I woke to sunlight stabbing through the paper screen, warm but soft. For a moment, I didn't move—my body felt heavy, but in a way that was pleasant. It had been months since I'd slept this deeply, uninterrupted. Noon already. No wonder—I had been running myself ragged.
I sat up slowly, stretching, letting the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. My mind, ever restless, drifted to Minato. He'll handle the rest. He can do more than me, so maybe I can finally relax a little…
But the thought didn't last long. Still, maybe an hour of training. You never know what could happen. There's only a month until Naruto's birthday… will Minato have enough time to prepare? Did I tell him too late?
I shook my head, scolding myself silently. Overthinking again. But it wasn't wrong to plan, to prepare. I swung my legs off the futon, feet brushing the tatami. Yeah. I should train decently. Just… a little. Focus. Make it count.
The day passed in a blur of motion, medical theory, and body exercises, sword training – no intense training just enough to wake my muscles without exhausting me. But even as I moved, part of my mind lingered on the little thought that wouldn't leave: What if I told him too late?
[Minato POV]
The night was quiet, the air heavy with anticipation. Kushina's labour had begun hours earlier, and I stayed by her side, calming my own rising anxiety as best I could.
Every precaution had been taken—the barrier, the wards, the seals I had layered around her, the Anbu positioned carefully. Yet, despite all the planning, I couldn't shake the memory of Kuroha's warning. I had doubled the number of seals, hidden traps, and chakra sensors throughout the chamber. I'd even stationed extra Anbu beyond what standard protocol dictated.
Naruto's cries filled the cave as I stabilized Kushina's chakra. The seal within her had weakened as expected during childbirth. Everything was as planned—until the air rippled.
Then, without warning, the masked figure appeared. He materialized in the middle of the chamber as if from thin air, holding Naruto in his arms. My stomach dropped. So Kuroha was right—but how did she know?
[Miyuki POV]
The world felt like it had split along invisible fault lines. Chakra hummed violently through the air, thick and metallic.
I focused, feeling the water beneath my feet, the gusts swirling through the trees, a living lattice of battlefield energy. My hands sliced through the air, forming signs faster than I could name them, shaping torrents of water, spiralling whorls of flame, blades of wind that whipped through the space between us and the enemy.
"Stop!"—as a massive beast bomb rose above the ranks. Its glow swallowed the horizon, pure destructive intent. My heart hammered. There were others, of course—shinobi trained for years, my friends—but nothing could stop this alone.
I tried. We all tried. Chakra layered, swirling with desperate precision, a web of water and fire meant to redirect, slow, blunt the impact. The bomb shuddered, a colossus slowed but not broken. And then it struck.
The explosion—no, not explosion—the rupture of energy hit, and I felt the searing, unyielding weight of it before it even touched the ground.
My body moved instinctively, shielding others, layering my chakra like a dam, pushing back the heat and force. But I could not hold it all. Not even close.
A part of the blast caught me, sharp and unrelenting, tearing through my defence.
Pain screamed through my chest. My vision fractured into pinpoints of light and shadow, then clouded red. The ground beneath me tilted, unsteady, betrayal in every limb.
I passed out. I don't know for how long–but he was there. Shin.
He knelt, hands pressed to my chest, pulling chakra in waves I did not think humanly possible. The glow of his own life spilling into mine. His eyes—wide, frantic—locked with mine.
"Stay with me!" he whispered, voice cracking, a tremor I had never heard in him. "Everything… everything will be fine!"
I tried to push him back, weakly, my hands trembling against his. "Shin… you—"
He ignored me, and I couldn't stop him.
And then, more strikes hit—physical, relentless. Not a tail, not a bomb, but debris, flying, crashing.
Shin did not leave. He could have dodged, could have saved himself, but he stayed. He held me upright refusing to let me die.
I forced my eyes open again—and then I saw her.
Kuroha.
My daughter. My miracle.
Her silhouette trembling between smoke and light, too small for this battlefield, too fragile for this nightmare.
My heart ached with all the things I would never see. I will never see how she becomes a real shinobi, the first time she'd stand on her own in battle, her laugh, her fury, her triumph. All of it. Gone. I will never see it again.
And then her eyes … her eyes changed.
A ripple, a sudden twist of chakra that burned itself into my fading vision.
Her Sharingan spun into existence—two Tomoe, bright and terrified, locking onto me.
Seeing me for the last time.
I tried to smile.
Then the world narrowed to a heartbeat.
Shin's eyes, wet, desperate. His voice, tearing at my heart. His hands, steady but draining him, holding me up against the impossible.
And then… silence.