holy tree.

TSeeing an Uzumaki in the Uchiha compound was undoubtedly a strange sight for the clan, but since her newly born daughter was half-Uchiha herself, Fuso's presence made more sense for them. Already several months old, she perched Honoka on her hip who grasped at the denim vest Fuso often wore. Already sporting a fuzzy head of red and owlish black eyes, she certainly looked more Uzumaki than Uchiha, but Fuso was gladder because of it; she'd missed seeing another Uzumaki aside from Kushina, even if she relished in the younger woman's presence greatly.

That day, helping around the Senbei shop had been the day's order, if because she wasn't in any rush to return home. Many Uchiha had welcomed her, and staying with her paramour's family had become something routine, so she did. At least until Honoka was old enough to make her own decision, at least. With women like Mikoto and Hazuki also expecting, it gladdened her to know that she'd have some peers.

ᒥ嫌いᒧ—         Oh, this mission was certainly because he’s an Uzumaki. If he finds anyone, his plan is to cut them down rather mercilessly and any superior of his would know that, but curse marks implied sealing techniques. He was not that kind of Uzumaki, unfortunately. “I’m all set,” he replies beginning to turn on his heels and walk. 

He was silent at first, however as toughened by war as he wanted to act, deep down his true young age would show through with his curiosity. “You’re an Uzumaki, too?” Zenjiro knew the answer, but wanted to ask to ease whatever nervous energy he felt pooling in his gut. Unknowingly, he’d be answering a question she had asked herself.

“Yeah, I am. Not from Uzushio, though,” Fuso explained with a shrug, knowing it would be a complicated story either way, and not one to elaborate when it didn’t feel wanted. That, and she tended to just keep to herself unless asked. Whether it began in the little island in the Eddy Country she’d been born and raised in, or continued into Amegakure and the time where her husband and son had died... well, it was a long story either way. 

It was kind of funny how the generations of women seemed to almost synchronize when it came to childbirth, and Fuso had amusingly made a bit of a roster: Hazuki Uchiha with Izumi, Mikoto with Itachi, Kohari Umino with Iruka, Tsume Inuzuka with Hana--among others. The Uzumaki wasn’t terribly familiar with most of them, as she often kept to herself--especially as one of the oldest in her late-30′s--but sometimes, it didn’t hurt to mingle. What perplexed her the most, though, was the state of a young woman who appeared to be Hana’s guardian... or caretaker? One of the two. All she really knew was that her condition had likely come in the aftermath of a mission or other, so that wasn’t so unusual in itself. 

Despite this, their numbers in Konoha were always pretty low, never getting more than 1-2 per generation, if that. I genuinely think Mito, outside of the child she’d come to have with Hashirama and Tsunade/Nawaki after that were the only Uzumaki until Kushina’s arrival. Then, after Mito’s death, Nawaki and his father were dead, Tsunade left, and Kushina was probably the only one until Naruto’s birth, and she died the night he was born. 

Even with Fuso and Honoka’s headcanoned inclusion, that would make 4 if you count Tsunade and Naruto (even then, Tsunade, Nawaki, and their parent were considered Senju, so even that might not cut it). 

Stealing from the dead, Kakuzu wonders what his younger self would think of it but it doesn’t matter, that version of himself is long gone. He sees it now as an opportunity and a means of getting by. It wasn’t like the dead had use of what they carried on them anymore. And Kakuzu wasn’t above taking from them. Why let it go to waste? He had learned early on that he often could find useful items, like weapons, food pills, an updated bingo book, a book or even a journal to read and scoff at, clothes and shoes if he were lucky to find someone of his size. And money of course. Sometimes loose change, other times a weeks worth of pay. But he wasn’t always after those sorts of things, sometimes those were extra. It was the bodies themselves he was looking through, to see if any of them had bounties on their heads. Those he took and cashed in at a collections office.

The decay doesn’t bother him, he’s so used to it by now and knows there’s probably something wrong with him for that to be the case. But what he’s not used to is another person rifling through the bodies. That’s something new and he looks her over, assessing whether or not she’s a threat. Her words seem like a warning but he’s not letting her get in his way. Move on? He snorts. There’s enough bodies to go around.

“I’m not after what they’re carrying so I don’t see why I should.”

Using his foot, and with little care, Kakuzu shoved the nearest body over onto its back so he could see the face and when it doesn’t match up with any of the faces in his bingo book, he bends down to check the pockets for anything useful, or any money, neither of which he finds, before moving on to the next.

There had to be at least one he could make a profit off of in this lot.

This was just one of the aftermaths that came with war. In places too remote to be retraced, any number of shinobi that were deployed could die; numbers as small as a single person to a large platoon could be found decaying, and for people like her, even a non-ninja still could know their way around. Though she’d hailed from a poor family of tradesmen, there was enough crossover between the tools shinobi used and those who created works sometimes implemented in shinobi warfare for the Uzumaki to be able to discern between them. As it was, she might not have been trained as a kunoichi, but a shuriken or kunai in her hands could be just as invaluable as reams of blank sealing scrolls or tags someone like her could instinctively use. That was aside from everything else, and a fuinjutsu expert could unseal just about anything for their advantage.

Fuso was doing such a thing, as the group of shinobi that had perished in one of Konoha and Iwa’s endless skirmishes through the smaller, powerless lands made her feel entitled to their losses. The one she’d found had likely been the walking cache of the group, discovering rolls of used scrolls filled to the brim with invaluables she could either pawn or use for herself. What the man wanted remained to be seen, but she hoped what she’d acquired wouldn’t look too tempting.

“Then I guess we don’t have any fight t’have,” Fuso replied with a shrug, quietly pocketing the scrolls she’d found. Still, if sharing would let her live another day, she could if it came down to it. Rifling for a patch scrawled with a seal, the Uzumaki deftly unsealed it and produced a sizable coin purse she didn’t have much use for. 

ᒥ嫌いᒧ—         He couldn't dare look at her for too long, she looked just like...her Chakra was even similar, only much stronger he can feel a headache coming on. Zenjiro kept his eyes focused off somewhere else, fighting the nervous tightening of his chest. Though, if her Chakra was so purely Uzumaki, her hair must have been that signature red like his own. This couldn't be a coincidence, then. He was chosen for a stupid, low level mission because this lady is an Uzumaki! That had to be it! And it was not fun, Zenjiro standing with his shoulders firm and posture unmoving as they’re briefed on the miniscule details.

The elder woman speaks, and Zenjiro doesn't turn to even give her a glance. "....Then go home," his tone is dry, apathetic even. "Or stop whining." The younger Uzumaki certainly wasn't very delicate with his words, not that he was a delicate person in general. Zenjiro stood tall at 6'2 and was built to match such a stature, making him rather physically intimidating despite being in his early twenties. As any shinobi, his skin was covered in the scars left from being raised in battle. Not the typical looking guy to be on such a low rank assignment, for certain.

It didn’t totally escape her notice that the boy seemed slightly alarmed to see her, and it made something pang in her chest. Sure, they hadn’t spoken a word thus far since an arrangement by Lady Fifth to help with a juinjutsu matter demanded her expertise, and with Konoha repairing its frayed relationship with Suna, collaboration missions weren’t unusual. Just rare since Fuso only did them when called to do so, and with Tsunade being a technical kinswoman as an Uzumaki descendant, the Uzumaki was more than willing to pitch in. But, it made her wonder: was this child also an Uzumaki, or just another Suna-nin who were occasionally known for their red hair? Rasa’s boy was a redhead, and a missng-nin she’d heard of during the Third War, Sasori, also had red hair. So, it could’ve been a coincidence. 

"Y'know I get it, right? Don't forget, I'm from Ame, too. You can't really trust people bein' nice t'ya, but you can trust me. Honest."

Fuso knew what it was like, not being able to trust anyone but one's self. Places like Amegakure taught the hard lesson of self-resiliency, that there wasn't much of a thing called honor among thieves when everyone someone knew was as miserable as the next, subsisting on the bare minimum and not knowing where one's next meal would come; it was living out of your neighbors' abandoned home and switching between them. Stealing from ninja, from other civilians, just to silence your baby's famished cries for one night. She knew that terror, but it made her unafraid to try and help.

“Huh, guess this one ain’t too bad.”

With a few raccoons chittering and trailing her, Fuso felt a little triumphant at her find: a few misplaced pieces of costume jewelry and other personal items that likely belonged to some deceased shinobi. Hell, she only tended to find scraps as good from the morgue once they were done processing and about to cremate the bodies. Sure, maybe it was a bit sacrilegious, but the Uzumaki had to get by somehow. Technically, pilfering through other people’s trash was enough to get her in trouble with the KMPF, but most of the time she knew how to avoid them, except--

Some of the raccoons hissed, and Fuso sighed. Ah, shit. A Jonin. 

MANY AROUND THEM SEEM TO BREATHE A SIGH OF RELIEF that this Tobi-sama had chosen a victim other than they to suffer his antics for the evening. Madara, however, was rather pertubed at Fuso’s lack of a reaction towards his display. Unlike the others, this was the first time they have ever ❛met❜. Silence will not reign for long as he quickly planted himself on a seat and balled his gloves hands into fists, beating the table top and chanting in his signature squeaky voice, ❝ Menu !  Menu !  Menu !  Menu ! ❞ like the entitled man-child he was playing.

The Innkeep had expected Tobi making a lot of noise, but that did not stop the frustration from rising as the old man quickly shuffled over and placed the menu open in front of Tobi. ❝ Can’t ya be nicer ?!  Especially sharing a table with such a nice and quiet lady ! ❞

Madara pretended to contemplate those words, pretended to consider being more decent as he quiet down to turn his mask towards Fuso. Then, gloved hands took the menu with lightning speed and pushed them almost into Fuso’s nose, ❝ Favourites ?  Do you have any favourites ? ❞ he asked with urgency.

❝ Tobi ! ❞ the Innkeep scolded, himself even shocked at how rude Tobi was being. He snatched the menu and placed it back down on the table. Madara took the menu again and attempted to shove it into Fuso’s face. ❝ Favourites ? ❞ This back and forth repeats again because the Innkeep finally gave up, bowing apologetically at the woman, ❝ I’m so sorry for him. ❞ before he walked away to attend the other guests who had come in.

Under the mask, Madara was quite proud of himself !

If any implication should’ve been clear, it was the fact that the Uzumaki should’ve reacted in some way: outrage, annoyance, irritation... something. Was amusement allowable? Because Fuso did smirk rather openly while pretending to be considering the menu, even if there was the wonder who would be the one paying, exactly. If the masked man was familiar, did that mean he was wealthy enough to at least afford whatever was on the menu? Even if he wasn’t, well... not like Fuso hadn’t up and vanished from a place before without paying before. She could easily do it again, if need be.

“How about ya pick what ya want, and we can share? Potluck we can just serve ourselves in dishes, that kinda deal?” Fuso suggested, the amount of Ryo each item cost spooking her away from wanting to order herself. Besides, the guy probably just wanted what he wanted, right? She could go fish later if need be.

Unless... did the man know who she was? Not specifically, but her clan? Uzumaki were in rare supply since the fall of Uzushio, and many were commodities in some respect or another that too many were eager to exploit. Of course, even if the man was a sensor, she could use her Chakra Deflection to hide her chakra signature and excuse herself as a former Suna resident. They had plenty of redheads.