Kushina Uzumaki sat motionless on the couch, her violet eyes fixed on the framed photograph in her hands. Her fingers traced the outline of a young boy's face, his bright blue eyes and spiky blonde hair frozen in time.

"Naruto," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each passing second reminding her of the time that had passed since her son's disappearance. Her gaze drifted to the calendar hanging nearby, its days marked off with neat, red X's. Two months. It had been two long months since Naruto left.

A gentle knock on the door broke the silence. "Kushina?" Minato's voice called out softly.

She didn't respond, and the door creaked open. Minato stepped inside, his blue eyes filled with concern as he took in the sight of his wife. Her once-vibrant red hair hung limp around her face, and dark circles shadowed her eyes.

"Kushina, love," Minato said, approaching her slowly. "It's almost noon. Have you eaten anything today?"

Kushina shook her head slightly, her gaze never leaving the photograph.

Minato sighed and settled down beside her on the couch. He reached out, gently placing his hand over hers. "I know it's hard, but you need to take care of yourself. Naruto wouldn't want to see you like this."

At the mention of their son's name, Kushina's fingers tightened around the frame. "How can I eat when I don't know if he's even alive, Minato?" she asked, her voice cracking. "What if he's hungry? What if he's cold or scared or . . ."

"Shh," Minato soothed, pulling her close. "Naruto is smart, remember? He's capable of keeping himself out of trouble."

Kushina leaned into her husband's embrace, tears welling up in her eyes. "But he's just a child, Minato. Our child. How could we let this happen?"

Minato stroked her hair, his own heart heavy with guilt and worry. "I ask myself that every day," he admitted. "But dwelling on it won't bring him back. We need to stay strong, for him and for each other."

They sat quietly for a moment, the heavy silence between them thick with shared grief. Minato didn't show his pain; as a man and as her husband, he couldn't. Someone in the house needed to put up a front of strength; if both of them broke down, who would hold it together?

Finally, Kushina spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you really think he killed those shinobi? Six hundred of them?"

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Minato hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I . . . I don't know. It seems impossible, but with everything that has happened, I have come to accept that he might have really done it."

Kushina pulled away, her eyes meeting Minato's. "But why? Why would he not return?" she asked. She was incapable of thinking of anything else at the moment; she was not in the right mind to analyze her son's actions. She didn't care if those 600 shinobi died; she only wanted her son with her.

"Honestly, I think he realized the darkness present in our own village," Minato said, his voice tinged with regret. "After I became Hokage, I realized that the village isn't the same beacon of light that it portrays itself as to its people, Kushina."

Kushina nodded. She knew what he was talking about. After all, they both were shinobi. In their line of work, they had seen plenty of stomach-turning things, and to not expect their own village to do it would be utterly foolish.

"There are many factions within and outside of the village trying to gain some sort of advantage. Had Naruto returned, I'm afraid he would be in far greater danger than he is now. The elders would have left no stone unturned to turn him into a weapon, and you know how that experience is better than I do, don't you, Kushina?"

Remembering the days she had to spend alone and away from the people she wanted to be with, she felt a sharp pinch in her heart. Being stared at like a monster and being treated as one, the grand politics in play with her as the center of everything . . . as a mother, she never wanted her child to go through that.

"Why is this so hard? I want him here, but now that you say that . . . I also want him away. I-I don't know what to do!" cried Kushina.

Minato placed a hand on her cheek and softly said, "We've expanded our range for searching, but . . . there's still no sign of Naruto. I think it's best to let Naruto be and trust him."

Kushina buried her face in his chest. "I just hope he communicates with us somehow."

"We can only wait now, dear," said Minato, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "We can only hope that if not anyone else in the village, he can at least trust his parents, and I'm sure that he will understand that one day."

Kushina stayed silent but clenched Minato's blue shirt. Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths and prayed for Naruto's well-being. The reasons her son might have had for not returning were valid, but alas, she was a mother and she couldn't help but hope he might return.

"Come on, let's get you something to eat. Just a little, okay?" Minato stood up, extending his hand to her.

After taking a moment, Kushina took his hand, allowing him to lead her to the kitchen. As they walked, Minato couldn't help but notice how frail she felt, how much weight she had lost in the past months.

In the kitchen, Minato busied himself preparing a simple meal while Kushina sat at the table, her eyes distant. The silence between them was broken only by the sounds of cooking.

"Here," Minato said, placing a bowl of miso soup and some rice in front of her. "Try to eat a little, okay?"

Kushina nodded, picking up her chopsticks. She took a small bite of rice, chewing mechanically.

"I was thinking," Minato began, "maybe—"

Knock! Knock! Knock!

A sharp, distinctive knock on the window interrupted him mid-sentence. Both Minato and Kushina's heads snapped towards the sound. Through the glass, they could see the familiar silver hair and masked face of Kakashi, his visible eye wide with urgency.

Minato moved swiftly to the window, sliding it open. "What is it, Kakashi?"

Kakashi's usual laid-back demeanor was replaced by an air of barely contained shock. "Orochimaru is dead!"