Chapter Text
The night air over Konoha was heavy with the scent of damp earth and lingering smoke. The village still bore the scars of the recent attack—splintered trees, scorched walls, and the faint residue of the Kyūbi’s overwhelming chakra. Deep beneath the surface of the village, sealed within the newborn she had sworn to protect, the Nine-Tailed Fox stirred restlessly.
Kurami pressed against the walls of the infant’s mind, her crimson eyes flaring like dying embers. Something’s wrong. Her senses, sharper than any mortal’s, caught the faintest trace of foreign chakra creeping into the nursery where her little kit slept. Kurami bared her fangs in the mental darkness. Naruto!
Outside the nursery, two masked figures moved like shadows. Their footsteps were careful but sure, their movements reeking of cold purpose. The taller one scooped up the wailing infant from his crib, wrapping him in a thick blanket to muffle the sound.
“Quick,” the other hissed, glancing toward the Hokage Monument in the distance. “Before the ANBU realize.”
Inside the seal, Kurami’s claws raked against the barrier of ink and chakra, each strike sparking a hiss of crimson light. “No!” Her roar reverberated through Naruto’s tiny body, making the baby twitch and whimper in his captor’s arms. “Don’t you dare take him from me!” But the seal, Minato’s final act of love and desperation, held firm. She could only watch, helpless, as the figures slipped into the darkness beyond the village walls.
The kidnappers moved swiftly through the moonlit trees, their black cloaks melting into the shadows. Deeper and deeper they ran, until the familiar scent of pine gave way to the damp rot of the Forest of Death. The baby’s cries pierced the heavy silence like a knife.
“Shut it up,” the shorter kidnapper snapped. “If anyone follows, we’re done.”
The taller man scowled. “It doesn’t matter. The Hokage’s brat dies here. The bounty will be worth it.”
Naruto squirmed, his small hands clutching weakly at the air, his whiskered cheeks streaked with tears. Kurami could feel his fear—her fear—pulsing through their bond. She roared again, a sound of pure, primal fury that only her kit could hear. “Little one, hold on. I’m here. I will not let them harm you!”
The men stopped in a small clearing, lit only by a thin slice of moonlight. The forest around them was deathly still.
“This spot will do,” the taller one muttered, drawing a kunai. “Quick and clean.”
But before the blade could fall, the forest answered with a low, guttural growl.
Yellow eyes glimmered from the darkness.
The first wolf lunged without warning, a blur of gray fur and snapping teeth. The taller kidnapper barely had time to cry out before powerful jaws crushed his throat in a spray of crimson. The other turned to flee, but more shadows streaked from the underbrush—wolves, their coats bristling, their fangs wet with hunger. A scream echoed once, then was silenced beneath the sound of tearing flesh.
When the bloodied clearing fell quiet again, only the whimper of a child remained.
The pack circled the small bundle on the forest floor, hackles raised, their muzzles twitching at the strange scent. At their center stood a great she-wolf, her silver-gray coat streaked with faint scars, her amber eyes reflecting the moonlight. Her sides still carried the faint smell of milk and grief; only days ago, her litter had been lost to a starving boar.
The infant’s cry broke through her mourning.
The she-wolf stepped forward, her nose brushing the edge of the blanket. The scent was unlike any prey or predator she had known—human, yes, but something else as well. Power. Warmth. Life. Beneath it all was the faint tang of fox, sharp and wild. The child opened his blue eyes, shimmering like sky through leaves, and met her gaze with a raw, instinctive plea.
Something inside her chest ached.
Kurami, still thrashing against the seal, froze as she felt the wolf’s presence. Her senses brushed against the creature’s heart—a mother’s heart, battered but unbroken. A chance. Please… Kurami’s voice, laced with desperation, reached out through the faint trickle of chakra surrounding the baby. “Take him. Protect him. My kit… our kit.”
The wolf’s ears flicked, catching the faint pulse of power that wrapped the child like a warm breeze. She understood no words, but she felt the meaning as surely as a heartbeat.
The baby whimpered again, tiny fists clenching in the cold night.
The she-wolf lay down beside him and, with a gentle paw, pulled the blanket aside. Her teats were swollen with unused milk. Guided by instinct and hunger, the infant rooted against her belly, latching on with soft, desperate sounds. The wolf’s eyes softened as she felt the pull of life, the small warmth pressed against her fur.
Kurami’s power flowed like a silent river, subtle and careful. She shaped the flesh of the baby’s neck, loosening it just enough to bear the gentle grip of lupine fangs without harm. Carry him, Kurami whispered into the stillness. Carry him home.
When the child’s breathing slowed into the even rhythm of sleep, the she-wolf rose. With infinite care, she took the scruff of his neck between her teeth. Her pack parted silently, their yellow eyes gleaming in the moonlight as they fell into step behind her.
Through the tangled woods they went, the night air cool and sharp with the scent of blood and pine. The silver wolf moved with the grace of a shadow, each step sure and silent. Cradled in her jaws, the infant Naruto slept, his small foxlike ears twitching against her fur.
Above, the moonlight cut through the canopy, bathing them in silver. Kurami’s crimson eyes flickered faintly in the depths of the seal as she watched. Her heart, so long hardened by centuries of hatred, swelled with fierce, aching relief.
My little kit, she whispered, a vow threading through every syllable. Grow strong. Live. The forest will be your cradle, the pack your family. And when the time comes… I will be there.
The she-wolf slipped into the safety of her den, the warm earth swallowing them whole. Behind her, the forest fell silent once more, keeping its secret beneath the veil of stars.