Morning graced the village of Konoha with a soft reticent light, milling gently on the dew-lined roads. The sky was still a wash of reds and pinks, the sound of birdsong dominating the flushing haze. Silently imposing on the shadowy streets, the buildings seemed to sleep as soundly as their occupants, undisturbed save for the odd insect or a rustling piece of litter caught in a stray draft.

At least, most of Konoha's population was asleep. Her swollen stomach bulging out of her pea green maternity dress, Uzumaki Kushina careered forwards like a giant waddling tornado. Long crimson locks streaming out behind her, her worn slippers stomped over the damp ground with surprising force as she yelled and pumped her fists with a shameless grin.

Startling upright at the commotion, a slender woman of a similar age turned to stare at her sudden company. Dark tresses swaying slightly against the back of her sensible maroon jumper, she clutched her handbag against the waist of her navy-blue pencil skirt and seemed to take a moment to collect herself. "No, I'm alone today," she replied hesitantly, her pale fingers fiddling against the milky-white strap, "Itachi's babysitting at home."

"Ah," Kushina gushed happily as she drew closer. Her smile was contagious and Mikoto returned it, if a little more self-consciously, glancing down at the ninja-issue sandals at the bottom of her own slender legs.

"He's such good big brother," the red-head went on unperturbed, a dreamy expression on her soft oval features as she absent-mindedly patted her belly, "I hope our kids can all be good friends one day. Perhaps then he can babysit for me too…" There was something akin to a mischievous glee in her smile now.

Conversely a frown appeared over Mikoto's more pointed chin. "Babies need to be at home with their own family, you know?" she insisted, her dark angular eyes following the movement to the mound that dominated the other woman's middle, "Have you picked a good name yet?"

Kushina glanced away, embarrassed. "Minato and I just can't seem to agree on anything," she murmured, staring down the dusk-clad tarmac, "We thought perhaps it might be easier once we 'meet' the little one and see which name fits." She trailed off, her shoulders tensed up for the predicable reply.

"Oh, that's no good," her comrade-in-motherhood exclaimed, taking a step closer towards her and tugging on the strap of her bag, "You can't be complacent about these things. A baby needs a good name. It's important." Her voice raised slightly at the last sentence, as the dark eyes demanded acknowledgement from their rounder counterparts.

"We're trying!" the red-head whined, now staring up at the sky as her cheeks flushed slightly, "We're trying! We just…" She backed away, her stocky boyish figure somehow diminished in front of the more delicately-framed Uchiha.

"Kushina!" The sudden bark made both women jump. They turned, almost as one, to see Sarutobi Biwako, wife of the third Hokage, advancing towards them with a scowl. Faded brown hair pulled back into a large tight bun on the crown of her head, her expression was fierce as thunder as her plum-coloured robes fluttered in her wake. It was like a small middle-aged goblin had crawled out of a hole somewhere, ready to extract boundless reprisal upon the world of young mothers… and Uzumaki Kushina in particular.

The red-head visibly balked at the sight, inching backwards instinctively. "Gotta go!" she hissed, inclining her head towards the confused Mikoto, "Wish me luck, okay?"

Hurriedly the slender Uchiha bobbed a respectful greeting, before the older woman had snatched the red-head by the sleeve of her borrowed shirt and pulled her further along the quiet morning road. "Remember we are trying to keep this birth a secret," the stern lined face maintained, without turning around, "So please avoid talking to any more of your friends and acquaintances."

Kushina hobbled along rather awkwardly behind her, adjusting her clothes with some degree of difficulty. "Okay, okay…" Her shoes slipped on the dewy pavement and she hissed in frustration, yanking herself free of the older woman's grasp.

"And try not to scream too much now," Biwako added, shooting her a cursory glance over her shoulder, "Even if the labour pains become unbearable."

Dumbstruck, the red-head nearly faltered, but the white robed figure strode onwards as relentlessly as if she had not just said that. Kushina stuck out her tongue behind the safety of the other woman's turned back. "Easy for you to say," she whispered, rolling her eyes as she struggled to catch up.

Kushina was screaming. Each cry seemed to split her face in half, her tongue and teeth straining in an apogee of agony. She writhed against the cold stone table, clinging to the wooden handles either side of her head like a life-line. Sweat gathered in her hair as she tossed her face from side to side over the spilled crimson locks tangled beneath her. The muscles in her face spasmed and contorted with each new burst of torture. Tears stung in her eyes. She bit her lip and screamed again, gasping and panting between every shriek.

The usual gentle smile was gone from the broad, square face of Konoha's fourth Hokage; trademark messy half-long blonde hair framed instead an expression torn with an unusual display of panicked anxiety. He was dressed for duty in his Jounin uniform, but the man seemed diminished, uselessly inept at the side of the long oval surface on which Kushina lay. His rough worn hands traced the thick black markings on her stomach almost absently, as his solid fingers pulsed with disorganised chakra. He flinched at her continued cries, unable to help her in her pain, and felt his stomach twist with inevitable guilt. He had done this to her after all… and right at that moment he would have given anything to protect her from it.

"Are you sure she's okay?" he breathed, his eyes on the face of the wonderful women who he knew to be capable of facing down anything… except this.

Biwako barely glanced up from the 'business end' of the proceedings. The cavern was large and spacious, the soft yellowish bronze colour of the natural rock further burnished in the flickering torchlight.

"She's fine," the woman snapped, her arms folded as she continued to supervise the harassed-looking mid-wife, "Concentrate on your job, let her do hers."

Taji, the birthing attendant in question, tried to add an encouraging smile, glancing over the large birthing sheet that was preserving the expectant mother's dignity. "You're doing really well, Kushina-san," she crooned with a ridiculously cheery grin from beneath her bobbly medical hat, "Keep on breathing just like we talked about." Kushina stopped screaming long enough to shot her a look that could have withered lesser women at a hundred paces. Taji hurriedly ducked back beneath the sheet.

Minato flexed his fingers over the red-head's bare stomach, urging more chakra down into them. The seal was twisting violently over the swollen middle, but it stilled under the blonde man's concentrated frown. "Come on, baby, come on out… make this easy on your Mummy," he murmured, easing more chakra into the seal to hold it closed. Suddenly it gave a violent shudder and Kushina screeched in agony, forcing the two midwifes to hold her steady. "Whoa…" Minato hissed, instantly adjusting his grip and redoubling his chakra, "You stay in, Kyuubi. Stay in!"

Biwako patted Kushina's clothed knee absently, her eyes fixated on Taji's handiwork as she supervised the young midwife. "Easy now, easy… One last big push!" she hushed, tracing absent circles into the fabric. Her eyes widened as the young mother bawled loudly and gave a particularly violent shudder. "Ah, there we go," she cried in delight as a second pair of lungs joined in the cry, snatching up a towel she bent low to scoop the precious bundle from Taji, "What a baby. Well done, Kushina." She bounced the newborn in her arms to soothe it as she wrapped the ends of the towel tighter around its tiny frame, heading straight towards the waiting baby-bath as Taji hurried to fetch hot water.

As Kushina's voice dropped to a set of exhausted gasps, the little one too seemed to quiet down, recovering from the sudden trauma of being expelled into the world as it was washed and dried. Minato involuntarily took a step closer, but a glare from the wife of the Third Hokage stopped him in his tracks. "I get it. I get it," he sighed, holding his hands up in defeat as she marched passed him without a word, "Mothers first, right?" He watched a little nervously as Biwako laid the bundle gently beside the panting Kushina, guiding the exhausted woman's face so she could see the little treasure hidden inside.

"Are you done?" an almost equally tired voice called from the doorway, startling Taji who was eyeing up the dirty water with a frown on her face, "Can we bring in the guest of honour now? I'm having trouble restraining him."

"Oh," Biwako frowned, straitening and staring at the rabbit mask that peered around the doorway, "How's he been holding up?"

"Just really, really," the face disappeared from view, voice strained as he seemed to snatch at something on the floor, "Really excited. He couldn't hear much passed the barrier, thank goodness, but he's been a menace trying to get inside." The mask reappeared, what was visible of his torso seemed to be fighting a struggling something in his arms.

Minato chuckled as a fond expression took over his face. To Biwako and Taji's surprise, he moved passed them, opening up his arms as he knelt down on one knee. "Come on in, Naruto," he called in a soft sing-song voice, "Meet your little sister with me."

The ANBU at the doorway gasped, keeling backwards with his arms clutched to his stomach as something careered out of his grasp, charging into the birthing chamber like a little orange lightning bolt. His father barely caught him in time, struggling to settle the hyperactive two-year old in his arms. The little boy stared back at him with a flushed face that might have been his own save for the dark whisker-like markings on each cheek. His chubby babyface puffed out in indignation, Naruto's little fists grabbed the dark blue fabric of his father's uniform and his tiny infant sandals dug themselves tightly into his parent's sides. The little torso was already heaving in indignation beneath the bright orange t-shirt and blue shorts. Pudgy little limbs squirmed in impatience as the child tried to hurry put its parent.

"Up you come," Minato murmured, holding his oldest child tightly as he rose and made his way towards the table. Naruto twisted predictably for a better view, but his father barely noticed. His breath caught in his throat as he stared down at the table. There lay Kushina, long red hair still sprawled over her shoulders and her flushed face turned towards a little pink bundle in a soft cotton towel, one hand gently hugging it against her cheek. Two tiny perfectly formed fists punched their way through the opening, revealing an oversized head with huge blue eyes – identical to her father's and brother's – and chubby pink cheeks trimmed with whisker marks. Soft blonde down peeking out from on top of the rumpled forehead suggested that this child too would end up yet another Minato clone, but the man himself just seemed enraptured by the tiny life he had helped create. Big blue eyes batted up at her father and brother, as her mother tenderly arranged the towel around the tiny rumpled body with a finger. "She's so cute, Kushina," Minato breathed softly, his eyes sparkling with wonder, "Just as beautiful as her mother."

"Coot," Naruto added, leaning down in fascination and reaching out with one pudgy little arm towards the baby's face.

"Gentle now," his father admonished, hurriedly adjusting his grip before his son slid out of his grasp entirely. Kushina reached out and stroked the little toddler's face with her free hand, catching her lover's eye as he gazed down at his little family together.

"Thank you," Minato whispered, gathering her hand and kissing it before returning his grip to Naruto's wriggling middle, "Thank you for both…"

"That's enough of that," Biwako declared, striding back towards the table and scooping up the newborn little girl, "I'm going to have to take her now." Her gaze softened abruptly as the neonate fussed in her arms, "There we go, little lady. Come on." Kushina sighed regretfully as she regarded the place where her newest child had been.

Naruto on the other hand exploded in his father's arms. "No! No! No!" he yelled, flailing against his father's jounin vest in protest.

"Easy now," Minato gasped, trying in vain to correct his grip, "She's just going to get weighed and checked over, Naruto."

"No!" the two-year old howled, slapping away his mother's hands as she tried to soothe him, "My iss-ta! Mine!"

Biwako raised an eyebrow at the tantruming toddler. "It's like that, is it?" she snapped, silencing the child with a single well-aimed glare, "Alright, young man, you can come and keep an eye on her while your parents finish up here – but don't you dare get under my feet." A glance at Minato reminded him exactly what kind of 'finishing up' she meant and he flushed a little guilty.

"My iss-ta," Naruto murmured weakly, as his father gratefully set him down. Instantly he was snatching at Biwako's medical overalls, his earlier shyness forgotten as he tried to get another glimpse of the baby she carried away.

Minato and Kushina both watched him go with identical fond expressions: a fact that made them laugh the minute they noticed. "Right then," Minato chuckled, still hiding a grin as he stroked his lover's exhausted face, "Let's get started on this seal…"

A strangled scream interrupted him. His head shot up, his eyes widened, his hands hung forgotten in mid-air, hovering in the beginnings of his jutsu. Kushina cried out beneath him, twisting herself up from the table in horror.

Biwako and Taji lay still and lifeless on the floor, blood still pooling beneath their prone bodies. Nearby the baby-sitting ANBU was curled in on himself in his last death throws. Like a spider smirking from the little of its web, a strange figure in a mask crouched half-way up the wall. His black robes billowed out with disused momentum, the red cloud design dancing against the burned golden rock. The stranger lifted his spikey black-haired head, but where there ought to have been a face a swirling orange mask regarded them expressionlessly. A single eye stared through the only opening, its depth tainted with the bloodied crimson of the sharingan.

None of that was what had Minato transfixed to the spot. His heart pounded, his breath caught in the depths of his chest, his own gaze was locked on the man's arms, laden as they were with a crying newborn and a screaming two year old, whose fists and feet pounded uselessly against his captor's chest.

"My iss-ta! Mine! Mine! Mine!"

She was aware of silence behind her. The sound of chopsticks had stilled, not that it had been very fierce to begin with. A small melancholy aura tripped alarms in her maternal senses from the long low dining table behind her. She frowned as she scrubbed out the ceramic interior of the bowl. Was her child sick? Upset? Had something happened? Uneasiness spreading through her, she waited patiently for him to tell her on his own.

A bowl returned to the low eating table with a thump. "Kaa-san…" a small voice offered.

The tap was turned off in an instant. "Huh?" She turned, her concerned eyes scrutinising the room's sole remaining occupant.

Little Sasuke was staring at his lunch with a lacklustre expression. It didn't look like he had touched a bite. His shoulders hung limp at his sides, his face was almost hidden by the high wide-set collar of his dark turtleneck sweater. He seemed a tiny figure, a small cloud of misery, lost in the towering kitchen. The pale green retro fridge loomed behind him; the tall glass fronted unit with the bowls rose up in front; even the unit with the TV and Mikoto's favourite toaster seemed to crowd out the young boy seated on the green-coloured floor mats. (1)

"What does Tou-san (2) really think of me and Nii-san (3)?"

The question surprised her, making her exhale loudly as her mind raced to process what he meant. "What's this all of a sudden?"

For a moment, Sasuke didn't answer. His chopsticks hung limply from his fingers and his young body cowed in unusual stillness. "A while ago, Tou-san said 'as expected of my child' to me," he explained, his eyes still downcast even as his mother dried her hands on her apron and came closer to listen, "He only used to say that to Nii-san, so I was really happy."

"Oh," Mikoto smiled encouragingly, "Isn't that good?"

"But lately," Sasuke continued, his tone unchanged, "Tou-san and Nii-san haven't been getting along."

They hit the heart of the matter and, in spite of herself, Mikoto gasped in quiet disappointment. Her head lifted, frowning, as she studied her youngest son in concern. Despite her best efforts it seemed he had picked up on the family squabbles from which he was still so innocent. Squabbles she had hoped to shield him from for as long as she could.

"And I thought…" the child went on, his body still unmoving, "Am I just a replacement for my brother?" The silence etched itself uncomfortably into the room, as Sasuke's statement hung in the air between them.

Mikoto's sigh was louder this time as she stilled herself to speak. "Your Nii-san is your Nii-san and you are you," she pronounced, her tone firm and encouraging, "Your Tou-san is always worried about both of you." She smiled tenderly at him, emphasising her point.

Sasuke snapped. He spun around, glaring at his mother. Suddenly the emotion he had been missing earlier bubbled up passed the surface, anger and hurt flashing in his dark sensitive eyes. "In that case, why is it always others?" he demanded, his tone irate as he dared her to disagree.

"Uh-uh," she shook her head softly, smiling reassuringly at him as she explained the truth he couldn't quite see, "No, that's not it. As the representative of the Uchiha, your father has to protect the whole clan."

The rage had died down to sulky confusion. "What do you mean?" Sasuke hesitated, his bright face locked onto his mother's with reluctant hope.

"It's just that's Itachi's bigger than you and your senpai in the clan, which means your father's responsibility will fall to him," she smiled affectionately, even as her little boy blinked in uncertainty, still frowning up at her, "Your father has to oversee that task, so that's probably why he's always focused on Itachi."

Sasuke looked away, frowning as he stared at his food. Mikoto crept closer to the table, leaning over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear. "Between the two of us," she began, grinning as she caught her son's attention, "When he's with me, your Tou-san only talks about you." Still beaming affectionately, she pointed at herself as if to indicate that these were her private communiqués with her children's father. Sasuke's eyes widened. She laughed, standing up again. "That's why he acts awkwardly and always seems so angry."

Her son smiled, glancing down in embarrassment at his earlier outburst. He felt relieved, happy, a little silly at his mother's confidence…

Seemingly innocuous, the front door opened and closed further inside the house. Mikoto glanced up in surprise at the sound of her husband home early. Sasuke too seemed to recognise the sound of the heavy footsteps in the hallway, as his father discarded his boots and pulled on his sandals. The boy sat bolt upright in excitement, making Mikoto smile again, as the heavy thoughtful tread moved to the decking outside, closer to the kitchen.

Before either of them could acknowledge it, however, the weighty movements were interrupted by the awkward sound of a sliding door being unevenly wrenched along its track. A pattering of much smaller feet chased the larger ones over the decking, followed by a loud thump as that little someone fell over.

Uchiha Fugaku's laugh bellowed through the house, the deep throaty sound rumbling with the unusual mirth. "Ah, Miyu! Miyu! Miyu-chan!" came a deep affectionate chortle, almost a guffaw, "How is my little princess?"

The sound of that laugh made Sasuke go pale. He threw his chopsticks down on the table, disappointment coursing through him. "It's not true," he insisted, angrily rising to his feet, "None of it. It's always Nii-san, Nii-san or Miyu, Miyu. Miyu's the only one he spoils like baby. If he only prefers Nii-san because he's older, why is it that even pathetic Miyu can get him to look at her without trying? Am I just not good enough? Is that it?" His fists clenched and his torso shook as he scowled at his own bare feet, body shaking with betrayal.

"Sasuke…" Mikoto stretched out a hand, but before she could reach him, her child barged passed her, his arms covering his face as he charged out the back door. "Sasuke!" She raced after him, bracing herself on the frame as her youngest son disappeared around the back of the house.

"Ah, what's going on in here?" a familiar gruff voice demanded in surprise.

Mikoto turned to see her husband staring at her. A stern jaw with deep frown lines, heavy set eyes with their low straight eyebrows, Fugaku's features were nevertheless raised in surprise. His broad square shoulders hung stern and straight over his muscular torso, but there was a certain tension in his posture at the sight of his wife's concerned face, as if he was ready to spring into action at any moment. The Konoha police uniform seemed unusually ruffled, his blue ninja suit wrinkled and the collar of his flack slightly askance. That though was the fault of the large dead weight hanging by its thin little arms around his neck.

Although she was only two years younger than Sasuke, the baby of the Uchiha clan blinked silently up at her mother, stroppy dark hair hanging over her large eyes. Said hair was cropped short on the six year old (4), but it either stuck up in all sorts of odd directions or managed to hang low in over her small rounded face. A pacifier, for which she was much too old, bobbed up and down in her mouth as she clung limply against her father's side, the skirt of her dark blue dress fanning over his muscular arm, the Uchiha clan symbol displayed all over her back. Her skinny bare legs clamped around his toned waist, anchoring itself against the pockets of his jounin-green flak jacket. She rubbed her cheek against her father's shoulder, her expression bland and docile like the over-grown infant she was. Plump cherubim lips pushed the pacifier up and down in a vacant pout.

She looked like a living human doll, designed to be cute and cuddly, but not a substitute for the real thing. In six years Mikoto had yet to hear her daughter utter more than a few syllables. Miyu just watched people with those huge unfathomable black eyes and followed her father and brothers around like a small puppy. She was indefensibly cute and her simple ways won affection out of even the most repressed of strangers. Mikoto loved her, Fugaku adored her – and yet he probably had more actual respect for his sons. He certainly demanded far more from both of them than he ever did from the silent insubstantial voiceless little girl.

The woman gave them both an affectionate smile, slightly sadly, before turning back to the view behind the house. "I think Sasuke's having a bit of a bad day," she sighed, her eyes watching the spot where her son had disappeared.