Chương 124: The Expectant and the Emerging

The mothers of Zhen Dongye and Yugao Uzuki were not of the frontline, combatant variety; instead, they occupied administrative roles within Konoha. Sakura Uzuki, in particular, enjoyed a fair amount of leisure. Ever since Minato and Kushina had made their rounds of the neighborhood after the New Year, Kushina had become a frequent guest at Sakura's home, ostensibly to refine her culinary prowess. Occasionally, Megumi Dongye would join the fray.

The bond between the households had flourished, providing Kushina with a precious commodity: genuine friendship. Minato viewed this development with immense relief; as a Jinchuriki, his wife's movements were strictly curtailed, and these social tethers were her only respite from isolation. By now, the fiery redhead had essentially adopted the trio from the Personal Guard as her own juniors. The moment they stepped over the threshold, she barked, "Honestly! Why are you still wearing those masks?

You're far too young to be playing at being Anbu. Doff them at once and sit down to eat!" Zhen, possessing no sense of misplaced modesty, unmasked himself immediately.

"Senior Minato, you're witness to this. This doesn't count as dereliction of duty, does it?"

"Hahaha, certainly not," Minato chuckled.

"It's been ages since this house felt so spirited." Yugao was unbothered, but Hayate Gekko shifted uneasily.

"Will the Third... have an opinion on this?" Kushina, brandishing a soup ladle like a scepter, declared, "Let him. If that old man dares to grumble, I'll singe his beard off and torch his house for good measure. Hmph!" Yugao watched her with sparkling eyes. Incredible. She's as fierce as the legendary Lady Tsunade! I want to be exactly like that when I grow up. Zhen sighed inwardly. Well, if the boss's wife has spoken, who am I to argue? To the victors go the spoils—and to the hungry, the rice.

However, the moment his teeth sank into a piece of fried fish, he shot a look of profound pity toward Minato. Lord Fourth, your sacrifice does not go unnoticed. Minato coughed into his hand, looking sheepish. Kushina's cooking was, to put it delicately, a work in progress. It had improved significantly under Sakura Uzuki's mentorship—at least to the point of being biologically safe—but the early days of their marriage had been a gauntlet of "dark cuisine."

The experience had been so harrowing it had effectively forced Minato, an elite Jonin, to master the culinary arts out of pure survival instinct. Hayate and Yugao had tasted the discrepancy as well. They remained stony-faced, stoically chewing and resolving to hydrate heavily once they were off-duty. The salt content alone was enough to preserve a corpse. Sensing the sudden, heavy silence, Kushina asked with suspicious narrowed eyes, "Why the quiet? Is my cooking not to your liking?" No one dared speak.

Zhen decided that someone had to break the deadlock.

"Senior Kushina, would you prefer the unvarnished truth or a comforting deception?"

"You wouldn't dare lie to me! What is the deception, then?"

"That this is a symphony of flavor, a culinary masterpiece of the highest order—one so divine it should be marched straight to the Root headquarters and served to Lord Danzo himself." Minato fought a valiant battle to maintain his composure. He was the Hokage; he could not afford to guffaw like a schoolboy.

"And the truth?" Kushina pressed.

"The truth is that exactly half of the deception is accurate. I'll leave you to discern which half." Kushina paused, the gears turning in her head... then the realization dawned. Her temper flared.

"Right then! I've decided. No leftovers today! Zhen, I'm making this your personal mission. If a single scrap remains on those plates, you're a dead man!" Zhen: "..." So you do have a modicum of self-awareness. I should have kept my mouth shut. What exactly has Auntie Sakura been teaching you? Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. After the meal, Minato moved with practiced urgency to set out the tea service.

Everyone needed a steady stream of water to recalibrate their palates. He took a long, revitalizing sip before speaking.

"Zhen, your hypothesis was correct. By tightening the containment of the new jutsu, the physical strain on my arm has diminished significantly."

"Is that so? As expected of you, Senior Minato. One hurdle cleared already." The kitchen was an open-concept design, allowing Kushina to follow the conversation easily.

"The completion of the technique is as much your achievement as his, Zhen," she called out warmly.

"I'm just glad to be of service. So... have you settled on a name?"

"I still feel that—" Minato began. Kushina cut him off without looking up.

"It's the Rasenshuriken. It looks like a shuriken, it spins like a vortex. There's no need for a title that reads like a grocery list." Minato offered an embarrassed laugh. He had named the Rasengan as well, but in the war of branding, the "Cool Faction" was perpetually trampled by the "Concise Faction." Hayate nodded in agreement.

"Rasenshuriken... it's evocative and easy to remember. A solid choice." Yugao and Zhen concurred. Kushina beamed, triumphant.

"See, Minato? My names are far superior. Yours would have the enemy dying of laughter before the jutsu even touched them." The Fourth retreated in graceful defeat. Once they had rested, the trio prepared to return to their posts, but Kushina emerged from the study clutching an armful of scrolls.

"Actually, you three aren't going anywhere." Minato explained, "Starting today, your duty includes studying Fuinjutsu under Kushina's tutelage. Your progress will depend entirely on your own diligence. Good luck, everyone!" Study with a master instead of standing in a bush? Sign us up. With the commander's blessing secured, they took their seats like obedient pupils. Kushina immediately donned the persona of a stern academy instructor.

"I know you've all touched upon basic script and hand-drawn ink seals," she began.

"But those are the clumsy methods of the uninitiated. Do you know the advanced methods of array manifestation? How to use your own chakra to weave sealing patterns in an instant? How to condense chakra into physical, tangible seals?

"Do you understand the three grand archetypes of the art? What distinguishes a Suppression Seal from a Defensive Barrier, or the construction of an isolated Spatial Dimension?" Zhen knew a fragment of these truths, but Hayate and Yugao were utterly bewildered. To them, Fuinjutsu suddenly appeared as a vast, intimidating labyrinth of higher mathematics. They were experiencing a "rank suppression" from a true Grandmaster. And so, the Expectant Mother's Sealing Classroom was officially in session.

Indeed, she was expectant. Zhen and the others had long since noted the unmistakable swell beneath her robes; Kushina was nearly three months along. Two hours of theory later, Kushina assigned them a mountain of homework and prepared to head out. The trio instinctively donned their masks and rose to follow.

"What are you doing?" she asked, waving them off.

"I'm just going shopping, not leaving the village. Konoha is perfectly safe. Stay here and study."

"But Senior Kushina," Yugao protested, "our mission is your protection."

"Nonsense. I am a Konoha Jonin. I can more than handle myself." Zhen interjected, "I'll accompany her. You two stay here and finish the drills." Kushina knew Zhen's aptitude for seals far outstripped his peers, so she didn't argue. As she departed, Zhen followed—and, unseen by the common eye, three Root operatives mirrored his movements from the shadows. They arrived at a dango shop where Mikoto Uchiha was already waiting. A message delivered by that orange tabby earlier had set the date.

The Uchiha matriarch was also an expectant mother, though her bump was significantly more pronounced than Kushina's—likely five or six months along. As they traversed the village, Zhen noted a distinct demographic swell. The streets were teeming with pregnant women enjoying the afternoon sun. It seemed that when the men returned from the front lines after the war's end last year, they had been quite... industrious. The year 51 would see a massive baby boom in Konoha.

Kushina reached the table and immediately began to grumble.

"Already onto the sweets, Mikoto? Look at me—I'm losing my figure. What if I balloon into a glutton?" Mikoto smiled gently.

"Nonsense, Kushina. We are shinobi; we don't gain weight that easily. A little extra training will burn it right off. Look at me—I didn't change a bit after I had Itachi."

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely. Now eat, we have shopping to do. I heard the infant boutiques just received a new shipment of high-quality goods. It's best to be prepared." The two mothers-to-be finished their desserts and began their pilgrimage through the shopping district, whispering about the private, intimate mysteries of motherhood. Mikoto led the conversation, sharing her experience. She knew Kushina's status and carefully avoided asking for specific details, such as the due date.

She spoke only of her own journey—a surreptitious form of mentorship. Mikoto was a former kunoichi; she was well aware of the Anbu presence surrounding them. If she were to pry into state secrets, her husband would be answering to the village elders before sundown. Zhen watched them from the periphery. These two women carried the weight of the future. Within them rested the souls of Sasuke Uchiha and Naruto Uzumaki. A wild, transgressive thought crossed his mind.

If I were to strike now, the 'Saviors' would never be born. I wonder if the Sage of Six Paths would manifest just to settle the score with me? The idea was exhilarating, but he dismissed it. Since his arrival, he had only altered local skirmishes; he had neither the desire nor the power to derail the grand momentum of the world just yet. Theoretically, their births were set in stone.

In the years to come, Zhen thought with a smirk, I'll be able to pat those two rascals on the head and tell them: 'Your Uncle Zhen was guarding you before you were even a thought.' And if they ever step out of line? I'll just break their legs.