I had been prepared.
Kushina Uzumaki was fire in a woman's body—smart, impulsive, proud, honest to a fault. Unapologetically fierce. The sort who'd leap into battle without blinking and throw you straight through a wall if she even thought you looked at her wrong.
I never underestimated her. Treat her gently and she'd tear your throat out on principle. Treat her like the force of nature she was, and you might have a chance of surviving. Or not.
Nobody was confident in surviving a force of nature.
That was the key.
Since one could never be sure of the odds, why stress over them? It served nothing. Worry wouldn't slow her down, wouldn't make her hesitate. If anything, fear just made one clumsy. And clumsiness in front of something like her? Blood to a shark.
So you didn't think about survival. You didn't hope for mercy. You just moved, reacted, became part of the storm — because the only way to face a hurricane was to become the wind.
And even then, it might not be enough.
So yeah, I had been prepared.
Had the whole dance planned out in my head. A provocative challenge, a little glint of humor behind it.
These things never went as planned.
I'd watched her lips curl in frustration, seen her clench her fists and then let them go. That tight pout she gave me wasn't just anger. It was a conflict. Shame. Curiosity. Lust. Regret. I was decoding each flicker of her expression like it was the damned hidden village scroll.
But maybe I got too comfortable. Or too confident.
Or maybe I was just too fucking distracted imagining the heat of her panties sliding down those long, battle-hardened legs while she glared at me in like she wanted to gut me with her nails.
Because one second I was smiling—
And the next, pain exploded across the side of my face.
A thick, metallic taste bloomed in my mouth, and I stumbled backward, hand flying to my jaw with a grunt.
"You pervy, smug, ridiculous bastard!" Her voice cracked with fury, already halfway into war mode. "What the hell do you think you're doing?! What is wrong with you?!"
I blinked, still seeing stars.
Kushina was trembling. Wrapped in a storm of fury that radiated from her like heat from a furnace. Her ponytail untied and red hair had begun to fucking rise, floating around her head in nine distinct sections.
Her right hand still twitched as though it wasn't finished with me, knuckles white from how tightly she'd balled her fist. Her hair clung to the side of her flushed face, strands sticking to her cheekbone as she gritted her teeth and took half a step forward. Eyes wide, wild, violet irises practically glowing with indignation.
I lowered my palm from my jaw, working it with a little groan. Fuck. She wasn't even using chakra, and it still hurt like hell. That was probably the same punch that had sent grown shinobi running for cover back in the academy.
I finally got acquainted with the Red Hot-Blooded Habanero.
Worth it. Probably.
"... alright," I muttered with a crooked grin, tasting blood. "So that's a no."
Her fury didn't fade, it mounted, coiled hot and fast in her like a kettle about to boil. Her breath came quicker, shallow through her nose like she was holding back more words, or maybe just a scream. The rosiness of her cheeks deepened to a burning crimson.
Those clearly were not the right words to calm her down.
She advanced. I didn't back away. You don't back away from women like her. If you do, they crush you. Respect was resistance, when it came to Kushina. You wanted her to respect you, you stood your ground, teeth gritted and bare-chested, for whatever came next.
I smiled and licked my lips. I had awakened a beast, but...
Damn she was hot.
"You," she jabbed a finger into my chest hard enough to thunk against skin, "Complete moron."
I didn't respond. She looked like a housewife from hell.
She was not wearing her iconic green dress today.
Murder was in her eyes and fuck, I couldn't stop staring at her legs.
Pale, freckled, tight in black leggings that stopped just shy of her calves, fair with a subtle peach undertone, skin that begged for bite marks. Her apron, over an orange t-shirt, clung to her like it knew it was in the way. Thin, soft fabric pulled snug across tits that bounced with every furious step. The Uzumaki spiral sat right on her chest like a damn target. I'd hit it with my mouth first.
Her throat moved as she yelled—slim neck, veins popping beneath smooth skin, flushed pink and begging to be kissed, licked, bruised. I held back on that last time and I wondered where the fuck did I get that type of strength. Her pulse throbbed under that skin, and I wanted to suck on it until her voice cracked.
She was pissed. She was glowing. And she noticed my shameless leering.
My smile widened and inwardly braced for another hit. She did not, she only huffed through her nose and...
I saw the twitch in her thigh, the hitch in her breath, the way her eyes flicked down for a split second too long.
Maybe. I was hopeful.
Kushina might have been a jounin once, but that was fifteen years ago.
Now she was just a housewife. A housewife with the bloodline of Uzushiogakure royalty, a temper that could melt steel, enough raw strength to crack mountains, and a nine-tailed demon fox sealed in her gut.
….. which made her a dangerous housewife.
I wasn't stupid—just deeply committed to the art of dying via milf.
Some people climb mountains without ropes. I flirt with living natural disasters in aprons.
I inhaled quietly, prepared to use Devil's Whisper for the nth time on her this morning. To no avail.
I had been right. She was prepared now. Her walls were up. Her spirit coiled like a whip, her will tighter than her apron strings.
Still, a man had to try. That was the game.
"Careful, Kushina." I let my voice dip, just the right amount of rasp. Used her name for added impact. The spell wove into the space between us. "When you move like that, it makes me think of other ways I'd like to make you breathless."
Her breath caught. Just slightly.
Her hands clenched. Just slightly.
And for one brief, dangerous heartbeat, her anger paused.
Maybe it was working. Just maybe.
Then her hair, that started dropping, lifted again. Fury blooming in a sea of red light. Those gorgeous, wild red strands floated like serpents blinking awake.
Oh, fuck me.
I flexed my neck and squared my feet again.
But that's when the door slammed open.
"Yo! All dressed and handsome—wait—are you bleeding?"
Naruto blinked once, twice.
"What the hell's going on?" He tilted his head, mouth twisted in amused confusion. "Ma, you mad, and you—Eishin—man, you look like you got stomped. Did she beat you up?"
Wow, a real prodigy of the obvious, aren't we? I kept that particular gem locked firmly behind my teeth. No matter how tempting the sarcasm, I figured I owed my savior at least the courtesy of not voicing it.
Besides, I didn't fancy my chances against two Uzumaki. I subtly put the panties back in my pocket.
Kushina sucked in a breath so sharp her nostrils flared—and then, just like that, the chakra fell back into her skin like water receding from a cliff.
She huffed, huge and theatrical, hands on hips. "My kitchen," she snapped, "has rules! If someone breaks kitchen rules, they get hit. That's all!"
Naruto squinted. "What kitchen rules?"
"Special secret mama rules!" she hissed, waving the ladle like a judge passing sentence.
Where the fuck did she get that? I stayed silent; usually, things like this resolve on their own.
Naruto didn't look convinced. He turned to me with deadpan suspicion in his bright blue eyes. "...Were you being a pervert again?"
I should not have kept silent.
"Seriously?" I gaped. "That's the trust level now? After everything we've been through?"
That was an exaggeration, we haven't gone through much, but still…..
"I've literally caught you and that Anko chick naked, and you once told me Tsunade-sama had 'the chakra control of a goddess and tits to match,' which—dude."
Don't dude me! I was starting to wonder whether it was someone else in transformation jutsu and not the oblivious Naruto. Perhaps the Hokage decided it was time to finally put some Anbu to guard his wife?
It was an awful time to show that level of observation and awareness.
Before I could defend myself, Kushina sniffed—an elegant, dangerous little sound—her chakra still taut beneath her skin like wire. But her voice shifted, airy and sharp as a knife in silk.
"Oh?" she said. Just lightly. "And what exactly does my son mean by that? Being… a pervert, hmm?" Her eyes glittered. "Caught me up on something, did he?"
Naruto flinched slightly.
"...Not really," he said quickly. "Just stuff. Nothing big. Like the time he tripped and fell into Hanare's bathhouse — wait, I mean—" he stammered, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "I only know about that because I was, uh, passing by! And then there was that naked chick at his house."
The fucking backstabbing bastard. First, he rats me out, then, the second his bathhouse escapades might come to light, he throws me straight under the bus.
"Hmm…" Kushina smiled, showing teeth. "Tripping, huh?" Her tone was sweet. Sickly sweet. The sweetness of poison berries, of cakes filled with nails.
I took a slow, strategic step back.
Kushina's smile widened at me, saccharine and low. "Don't worry, Eishin~. We'll pick this back up later. When it's… just the two of us."
Not…. sure that was a good idea. My blood warmed immediately anyway. Can't tell whatever this was, fear… or anticipation.
"… sure," I said, hesitantly, voice thick in my throat.
Kushina nodded back silently, something quieter clicking into her. Like she was pulling shut a door. The terrifying, radiant chakra was gone. Hidden under layers of warmth and maternal instinct. She stepped away and reached for the counter, retrieving a tied scroll bundle.
She smiled as she packed it into Naruto's open bag, her hands fussing with the straps like she didn't trust them.
"Okay," she said. "Scrolls have everything you need—food pills, rations, bandages, socks with your name stitched on them because I know you lose those things in the river, and extra of those, you know—questionable ramen packets that are probably poison—but you love them anyway—"
"Maaaa," Naruto groaned, grinning ear to ear as she fussed with the zip on his bag. "It's not like I'm five!"
She flicked his forehead with two fingers. It remind me of the orphanage matron; Kushina was nothing like that bitch.
"Ha! Not-Five Knucklehead, still can't use a sealing tag without burning your eyebrows off. You're lucky your mama loves you enough to make you indestructible."
"Yeah, yeah." Naruto laughed, full-bodied and sincere. "That's the goal, right? Dattebayo!"
She leaned in and kissed the crown of his head. "Don't you dare die too cool for me to scold later."
Must be nice, having someone who'd mourn you loud enough to wake the dead.
That's when her head turned again—to me.
The transition was seamless. From mother-wolf to scary mother-wolf.
"Eishin," she said softly. "You watch him. You take care of him. You're not just his Jonin Commander…" her voice lowered slightly. "You are….. his friend."
There was nothing flippant in her this time. No faux-cheer, no crackling temper. Just a mother asking a man to bring her son home alive.
I nodded, slower this time. Fully.
"I'll get him back to you," I said. "No matter what. Even if I have to crawl."
Those were not empty words. Surprisingly, I meant them more than expected.
She nodded. Turned.
And just like that, the housewife-turned-war-goddess ushered her knucklehead son to the door as if she hadn't tried to punch me through the floorboards ten minutes earlier.
The door shut behind us.
Silence soaked in, and for a moment, I stood there perfectly still.
"...What the hell did you do?" Naruto asked.
I sighed. I fucked your mom and now I can't get her out of my mind.
"Your mother's… she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
Shit. Almost—almost—the truth slipped out.
Naruto's jaw dropped, his whisker marks seeming to twitch with shock before his face scrunched up in a mix of confusion and horror. "EHH?! Are you seriously crushing on my MOM?!" He threw his hands up dramatically.
I blinked. "What? No! I didn't say that—"
"You totally just did!" He pointed an accusing finger at me, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. "Your face is all red!"
"I meant—like, objectively, your mom's hot. I say that as a wounded civilian casualty of the Uzumaki temper."
Naruto groaned loudly and stomped away, clutching his spiky blond hair. "Ugh! That's super gross, ya know! She's my MOM!"
"Oh really? And this coming from the guy who invented the Sexy Jutsu?"
"HEY! Don't change the subject! At least I don't go around checking out people's moms! That's a whole new level of perverted, dattebayo!" He paused, then his eyes lit up with mischief again. "Pervert Number Two just got upgraded to Super Pervert! Pervy Sage really should be worried."
I sighed once more. You guys are going to be the death of me. Literally.
— — — — — — —
Author's Note: Okay, okay, I know. Some of you were hoping things would get hot in this chapter, but....
That is Kushina! Not an easy woman. She's a legendary redhead with a temper. Eishin gotta earn it.
Thanks for reading! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought -- or just scream at me to stop teasing. I deserve it.