Devil's Gold
Salem didn’t often think on the other jinchuuriki. She knew, distantly, that there were others, of course. She wasn’t living under a rock, she was living on the same damn continent as them! But she didn’t think on them. When Mito first captured Kurama, she knew he would be fine, he was Kurama. Eldest child of the God Of Darkness, the most powerful of the Bijuu, the great Kyuubi no Kitsune. What worried her more was Madara, that conniving snake with his sharingan. But with the Great War… disrupting her plans, she had to make adjustments.
She reconnected with Kurama, the foul old mange-pelt - and promptly got damn-near stonewalled, as Mito’s seal locked him down so much he could barely even see. But, still, she connected, with a promise of him filling her in. The only interesting thing was Mito dying, and then little Kushina being picked as the new jinchuuriki. Uzushio fell not long after - she was disappointed, ultimately, but it’s not like she was going to help, or that she could even if she wanted to, as ultimately she was one person, albeit immortal, and it did take her time to reform.
So life went on, and she watched curiously as Kushina eventually became pregnant. She knew (from shameless eavesdropping information gathering) that the father was the Fourth Hokage - ultimately unremarkable, except that his brother married one of the Branwen tribe (they were still around?), and was romantically involved with the silver-eyed warrior that tried to attack her two years ago bane of her fucking existence in the last decade. But when the child was born-
She was dimly aware in her peripheral that Tyrian had startled, and then rushed back in to catch her as she fell, and that the screaming, was, in fact, coming from her. She didn’t think it was possible, but the pain was worse than all those years ago. Godsdamn the Mangekyo Sharingan. It was almost worse than the silver eyes. She could feel the remains of Kurama’s chakra, siphoning into - two different places? Goddamn, damn, damn. But she could feel his chakra, siphoning into what is clearly the chakra coils of a newborn baby. “Godsdammit, you really had to replicate the stupidity I went through? Really? Gods damn you, Konoha.” She slapped away whoever was trying to get her to release her hands from her hair - Hazel, she judged after a second - then growled, stood, and stalked over to her quarters. She immediately, lacking any prying eyes on her, slammed the door, took out her hairpins and tossed them (she hoped) onto her vanity, and then flopped bonelessly onto her bed and screamed into the pillow. Such worthy behavior of a goddess.
She came upon her mindscape shared with Kurama, castle shattered like it was the site of a bomb, the only evidence that Kurama was ever sealed being chains linked to the floor. But she could feel the wisps of Kurama’s chakra, brushing up against her mind when she poked.
“Hello, little rascal.” She huffed out an amused breath, and then smiled at the tiny chakra apparition that floated near her head. It was just a disembodied head, but she cradled it against her head anyway.
“Oh, when did you become such a sap?” He rumbled in that deep baritone of his, and she felt him chuckle against her head, and manifest front limbs to curl around her shoulders.
“Kurama, it is such a crime I want to visit my oldest friend?” She asked rhetorically.
“Cut the shit, gaki. I know why you’re here.” She sighed, sitting down on a block of rubble near the throne and, as there were no prying eyes but the bijuu who had seen her do worse at much lower times, crossed her arms and pouted like she was eight instead of physically double that.
“Well damn, no hello for me, huh?” Upon being confronted with the patented Kyuubi Glare Of Terror (Version: Exhausted Parent), from the fox now off her shoulders and comfortably the size of a horse, she relented, growled, and threw her hands up in exasperation. “Ugh, fine, so what if I wanted to see how you were doing after being sealed into a fucking newborn?” She questioned.
“Kit, I’m doing fine, minus my Yin chakra. The brat is a fucking newborn.”
“And?” She raised a single immaculate eyebrow, wondering what it was now. Kurama, surprisingly, just sighed and sat down, dragging his paw-hands over his face.
“Listen, Kit. This kit… he’s not just any jinchuuriki. He’s going to be powerful.” He looked, somehow, indecisive, for all of half a second, before he spoke again, rushed as if he was trying to force the words out.
“He’s Kushina’s son.” She was ashamed to say she simply stood there for half a second, processing the news.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Vixen.”
“You know damn well what I mean!” She snarled, hopping off her sad rock and starting to pace angrily. “The world doesn’t need another me, and that’s what they’re getting if they’re not fucking careful!”
“I know, kit! That’s why I’m asking you-” He seemed to cut himself off from where he leapt up in frustration, but she could piece things together.
“You want me to train him, don’t you?” She asked. She was furious. Konoha had two of the four Great Eyes, all four lineages descended from them, and he wanted her to go there regularly?
“I know you don’t like what I’m asking-”
“Don’t.” She growled, whirling to face him. “Like you said, he’s a fucking newborn, and Konoha’s going to put him through the same thing I did, but instead of being pampered, they’re making him into a fucking weapon.” She groaned, yanking on her now-again-blonde bangs in a nervous habit she always needed to pin up her hair to curb. She turned to face Kurama again, now his muzzle alone tall as the full height of her body even laying against the floor, barely able to see over it. “At least tell me the kid has his parents.”
His guilty look away told her everything. “I-”
“At least tell me. Did you do it willingly.” She demanded over him, short and sharp.
“No.” His conviction told the rest of the story.
“Godsdamn the Mangekyo!” She cursed and started pacing again. Kurama huffed out a breathless laugh and replied, “Amen to that.”
She instinctively went back to playing with her bangs, coiling her bangs around her finger and then viciously yanking, as if the pain would help her focus. Then, she simply growled.
“Fine. Konoha starts the academy at six years old in peacetime? We’ll wait until then, and then I’ll train the brat.”