Uchiha Akai stood over the dying man.
Once the Demon Fox entered the seal on Yurime's stomach, gravity remembered the Fourth Hokage who'd been pinned in the air. He had nowhere to go, collapsing with a hollow thud and a crumpled groan, into his own pool of warm and endless blood. It splashed across Kushina, whose once-lustrous hair had dulled to a lifeless gray, as if it sought to restore their crimson red one last time.
He stood over the dying man and wondered if he'd see regret before he died.
"Please... don't hurt... Naruto," Minato mumbled.
He didn't have any thoughts of that sort. The children born of this catastrophe, both Yurime and Naruto, were innocent... but the Fourth Hokage hadn't seemed to see it the same way.
"... you wanted to make him Jinchuuriki," Akai said, looking down at Yurime. "Did you really think that... that wouldn't hurt... your son?"
He didn't know why he bothered with his words with a dying man.
Was it out of respect? The Fourth Hokage was a ninja, after all. A great embodiment of one at that. They'd lived polar opposite lives: a civilian genius, touted with glory, respect, and the title of Hokage to he, an incompetent noble who wanted to scurry the streets with the commoners.
But no, it wasn't. It was because the Fourth Hokage had become Konohagakure's next hero after the White Fang, whom committed suicide after the village retaliated against his choice of comrades over mission.
Akai never accepted the rumors then. He'd seen and heard similar stories many times before. The White Fang's was the most extreme. He never overlooked the sharpness under Minato's sunny smile, even back in their days in the Academy. How many comrades had the Fourth Hokage sacrificed to get where he was today?
Akai was hollow inside, as if Death God had taken his soul to the Underworld instead of Hers. Why did his dear Yumeka, ever-so kind and understanding, make the same ruthless choice?
He was seeking answers.
"Sorry... Akai-san... for... not trusting you... did Yumeka-san... see me... rejecting you...?"
The words weren't what he was looking for, but they did make his embrace around Yurime tighten.
"… would you have blamed the Attack tonight on me? On the Uchiha clan?"
Namikaze Minato shut his eyes. He seemed to have understood the reason behind his defensiveness.
Akai wasn't going to hide it. He never wanted Yurime to be the next Jinchuuriki. He'd hold him partly accountable for that, for forcing Yumeka to make such a horrifying, difficult decision.
"So... she did... no wonder... she offered... to seal..."
Then they opened firmly in his direction.
"No... Akai-san... I wouldn't... I was... too consumed... by fear... and hate... for losing them... you can understand... can't you?"
"..."
Akai didn't agree explicitly because a sudden realization struck him.
He moved slowly, one palm covering his eye, as the surge of coldness bit from behind. He didn't see it himself, but he knew the teardrops of his Sharingan were rotating.
No wonder these eyes are said to be cursed.
A great power reciprocated by the witness of an equally powerful death of a loved one—that was likely the awakening conditions. But he wasn't certain of it because he seemed to have awakened something further...
... Akai shook his head. His Sharingan reminded him of the answer he'd been seeking.
"The Nine-Tailed Demon Fox was seen as the embodiment of hate," he began.
"Why? For centuries, it was subject to the hypocrisy of Humans, ninjas and civilians alike. They feared its power but treated it as a weapon of war. Genjutsu, Chakra chains, seals. Humans did everything to deprive its own free will. Everything to remind it that it was nothing more than a bitter, mindless monster."
He glanced towards the bare stomach of Yurime and continued.
"The power of the Fox that Naruto needed, for the great calamity in the Prophecy... that power it doesn't come from nothing."
"You didn't fear dying... but did you ever fear that Naruto... would be seen as the embodiment of the Fox, to bear all that hate from the village?"
Akai didn't want to intentionally harm Namikaze Minato, but the thought that the guilt and burden when reflecting would kill him did pass in his mind. He hadn't expected him to respond almost instantly at all.
"... not once... if power... comes with sacrifice... then hate... comes with love... love that is trust..."
"I will trust Naruto... to gain the Fox's power... to understand the Fox... when I... and Kushina... couldn't... because he is my son!"
<>
Uchiha Akai stood behind the prison with his arms crossed.
The thick iron bars were part of a cage-like gate in a sewer-like space. A damp mist filled the vastness along with a menacing hum and heaviness that obscured everything but a pair of faint glowing eyes.
"... was that an acceptable answer for you, Kurama?" he asked.
The miasma laced with hatred and despair seemed to disappear as the outline of Nine-Tailed Demon Fox appeared. It hung its head low, claws retracted, and eyes shut, as if it was a stray animal gone another day without a meal.
Then it suddenly bared its teeth. "How much have you seen?!"
Akai had been surprised, too—not from the Fox's attitude, but the Sharingan's abilities. The Uchiha clan had exiled him at a young age and while his parents were elite Jounin, they had never awakened the Sharingan. He'd never properly learned about it.
But in addition to genjutsu and perception, he could enter the sealed space of the Eight Trigrams Seal at will. When he hypnotized the Demon Fox earlier during the sealing process, he had also unknowingly gained access to its memories.
"Only what you've allowed me to."
Of course, not everything. It was only a large portion of its memories that he saw without any restrictions, most of them subconscious. It was also the reason why he spoke for the Fox in front of the Fourth Hokage. It was what propelled his questioning in the first place.
The Demon Fox was misunderstood and wanted to be heard by this world.
"..."
He watched its eyes shut. His Sharingan also faded. He could understand it, somehow. Its defensiveness strangely reminded him of Yumeka, whenever he pointed out that she was angry or jealous or wanted to exchange Chakras beneath the sheets, anything she couldn't admit. He'd always joke then that she was like a cat—or a fox—with its fur ruffled.
Ironic, because the Fox had taken part of you away, Yumeka, Akai thought.
But the Fox too had likely gazed into the nightfall, searching for the Moon's pity from this imperfect world...
"... my offer still stands. Let me know when you accept."
<>
"... was that... an acceptable answer... for you... Akai-san?"
Akai's gaze shifted to Kushina, who had curled protectively around Naruto. Her arms remained firm, shielding her trembling child and tucking him closer to the dissipating warmth of her chest. She was not conscious and barely breathing—every gasp was not drawn not for herself, but for her child she refused to abandon.
She was the splitting image of Yumeka, and in a way, she and him were alike.
Their loved ones had made a difficult choice out of love, trust, hope and they couldn't refuse out of love, trust, hope.
Then he remembered how she'd saved Yumeka's life earlier. Yumeka had repaid the favour, but he hadn't... and if she were still here, he knew she'd be urging him, so...
"... it's acceptable. Show me that trust, both of you. You won't have to die... yet."
Akai spun and spun his Sharingan until blood trickled down his left eye and six curling petals adorned around a starburst bloomed in his pupils once more.
If my Sharingan... really did awaken for a second time... then I can access that ability...
"Shijimanagare—"
But Kurama's roar split the air.
"—wait, Uchiha scum! Your body can't handle an ocular dojutsu of that calibre!"
It was too late.
Akai glanced down at his daughter, still fast asleep in his arms, still safe and unaware. His vision blurred, and his legs gave out beneath him. He fell to his knees, tightening his grip around her as he dropped. His body curled instinctively to shield her, even as the world dimmed and the cold pressed in.
Darkness crept in from the edges, but the last thing he felt was her warmth, tucked in his arms.