Naruto: I'm Nine-Tails and My Host is Kushina
Chapter 270 : Warmth

Chapter 270: Chapter 270 : Warmth

Good guy, this is definitely one way to mess with the Third Hokage.

After all, the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, had a father named Sarutobi Sasuke.

Now, Fugaku goes and names his newborn son... Uchiha Sasuke.

One word: legendary.

Fugaku’s a genius at naming. It’s like he picked up some of that naming flair from Minato himself.

But clearly, he had to get Sarutobi Hiruzen’s approval for this.

I mean, who else would have the guts to recycle the name of the Hokage’s father?

Generally, Fugaku and Minato are on the same level when it comes to insight.

But strangely, this time, Kurama didn’t see Minato.

"Fugaku, where’s Minato?"

Kurama asked, brow slightly raised.

The corner of Fugaku’s mouth twitched, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

"Ah... Lord Kurama, don’t even bring it up. I haven’t had time to meet with him since the birth."

Kurama blinked. "Let your wife handle it, then."

Fugaku’s wife, Uchiha Rika, wasn’t particularly known among the clan. Just another civilian kunoichi with Uchiha blood.

Honestly, if it weren’t for the clan’s goal of strengthening the bloodline, Fugaku wouldn’t have bothered.

"Rika’s been sick, so I’ve been looking after everything myself lately."

Should he call Itachi to help?

Nope. Not necessary.

At seven years old, Itachi already had the calm, calculated mind of a Hokage.

He’d often ponder questions like, "Where does life come from, and where does it go?"

Tch. Someone else’s kid, alright.

Kurama looked over at the thin, stoic Itachi.

Itachi blinked his large, deep-set eyes, quietly observing Kurama.

In his heart, Kurama was a hero. The hero who saved the world.

Infinite Tsukuyomi—the world-consuming genjutsu.

And yet, it was Kurama who shattered it.

He’d gone toe-to-toe with Uchiha Madara wielding the Rinnegan, and Senju Hashirama, the God of Shinobi.

Most thought this would be the end.

But then came Kurama—no, Lord Kurama.

He punched Madara across the sky and kicked Hashirama through a mountain.

In front of him, even those two titans were nothing.

That’s why Itachi admired him.

Kurama glanced over Itachi again, amused.

The boy shifted uncomfortably under Kurama’s gaze, cheeks slightly flushed.

"Lord Kurama?"

Itachi asked in a tiny voice.

Kurama grinned and turned to Fugaku.

"Fugaku, with a kid like this, what more could you want?"

And just like that, with a sudden whoosh, he vanished from sight.

Fugaku stood blinking, bewildered.

"What does Lord Kurama even mean...?"

In the original timeline, Itachi was a loyal son.

He executed the entire Uchiha clan, sparing only his younger brother Sasuke.

Awakened Sharingan or not, old or young, he slaughtered them all.

Even his own parents.

Among all the characters in the Naruto world, Itachi still holds the top spot for the most twisted version of filial piety.

Ōtsutsuki Hagoromo and Hamura? Filial too—sealed their own mother, Kaguya.

But now, the timeline had completely changed.

All thanks to Kurama.

Would the Uchiha still dare rebel?

Impossible.

Why? Because Uchiha Mikoto was now the head of the clan—and Kurama’s woman.

Itachi’s biological mother? Just a background character.

Obito? Gone.

This world... it had been rewritten by Kurama himself.

"Itachi, let’s go. From now on, remember to honor your father."

Fugaku sighed, brushing dust off his robe.

"Don’t worry, Father. I promise."

Itachi’s voice was serious, filled with resolve.

Kurama didn’t go to the Hokage’s office this time.

At this hour, Tsunade and the others had probably clocked out anyway.

So, he returned home—Kushina’s place, to be exact.

"Lord Kurama, welcome back."

The voice came from Karura, the ever-loyal maid.

Kurama gave her a nod. "Hey, Karura. You’re alone?"

"Yes, Kushina-sama and Mikoto-sama should be returning soon."

Ah, "they."

Kushina and Mikoto must be out together.

Tsunade? A wild card. She might show, she might not.

Soon enough, laughter echoed from the hallway.

Kushina and Mikoto entered, talking and giggling.

Upon seeing Kurama, they blinked in surprise.

"Lord Kurama, when did you get back?"

"Been a while," Kurama said, grinning.

"Did you take care of the Kara matter?"

Kushina raised an eyebrow.

Kurama smirked. "Is there anything I can’t solve?"

Kushina:

Mikoto:

This was the first time they’d seen Kurama straight-up boast like that.

With a smooth motion, Kurama stepped forward, wrapping an arm around each of them.

He leaned in and whispered, "Miss me?"

The air popped.

Mikoto’s cheeks flushed bright red, and her body trembled lightly.

Kushina folded her arms, rolled her eyes, and huffed.

"Miss you? Pfft. Life was peaceful while you were gone, right Mikoto?"

Clearly, Kushina had been spending too much time around Tsunade.

But Kurama wasn’t letting her off so easily.

Mikoto couldn’t even register Kushina’s words.

Her head spun 560 degrees—figuratively, of course—her face crimson.

"Hey, Mikoto, don’t fall for Lord Kurama’s sweet talk."

"Ah—!"

Kushina pinched Mikoto’s waist.

The jolt brought her back to earth.

"Kurama-sama, Kushina, what were you just saying?"

Kushina: "..."

That evening, Karura laid out a feast worthy of the Daimyō.

Fish, grilled meats, onigiri, handmade meatballs, fresh sushi—everything looked delicious.

Kurama, Mikoto, Kushina, and Karura all dug in heartily.

"Karura, you haven’t cooked in days, but this is next-level!"

Kurama praised generously.

"Lord Kurama, do you think Karura-nee is beautiful too?"

Kushina shot him a look.

And that was it. She was pouting.

Tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

Kurama calmly picked up a tender piece of grilled meat and placed it in Mikoto’s bowl.

"Eat more, Mikoto. You look like you’ve lost weight again."

"T-thank you, Kurama-sama..."

Mikoto’s heart practically melted.

Kurama’s concern was like warm honey.

"I want some too!"

Kushina shouted, refusing to be outdone.

Kurama smiled.

And plopped a fat, juicy slab of pork belly into Kushina’s bowl.

Kushina:

"You’re playing favorites!"

The room filled with light laughter, warmth, and just a pinch of jealousy.

The house felt alive.

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