She held her head up high as she walked, her kimono fluttering around her legs with each step that she took. Around her, people whispered and looked away, trying not to catch her eye for fear of letting her know that they'd been staring. As if Ino didn't know. She wasn't blind or deaf and she was well aware of their constants stares and mutterings.

They felt awkward being around her now. Not because they felt guilty, even though it was for them she had gotten those scars, but because they just didn't like looking at them. She'd been a beautiful girl once but now that she was marred, they'd rather just stay away from her.

Ino's hair had been done up special for the Cherry Blossom Festival. A thin lilac scrunchy had been pulled around her hair; the flaxen locks still pulled into a bun like it had been earlier that evening.

Her normal clothing had been retired to the closet too, just like they were every year at this time. But, unlike it usually was this time of year, her kimono wasn't a garb of vibrant colors and cheerful floral prints. Instead it was a light purple to match her hair-tie, thin white stripes ran across the hems of the sleeves and the bottom of the skirt.

Ino walked down the streets with a slight tilt to her step, a slight favoring of her right leg, but she was still moving at a brisk pace; it wouldn't go away entirely no matter how she walked. And yet she didn't seem to care.

Her face was a perfect mask of indifference as she walked. Uncaring and scarred eyes blinked off the dusting of snow that had settled on her face. A not quite smile, not quite frown (the one that she always seemed to have on her face these last few months) twitched slightly when a particulraly nasty comment reached her ears.

'Do you see those scars? Or the way that she's walking?'

'I think that it's just for attention. It's been such a long time since it happened, her leg should be healed just fine by now!'

'What sort of a kimono is that? Doesn't she know that this is supposed to be a festive event?'

And then a set of dark blue clad arms were wrapped around her shoulders and a glare, one eye brown and the other a misty grey, was sent towards the offending civilian. Ashmed, she turned her back on the scarred couple and returned to the group of women that she was walking along the streets with.

Shikamaru Nara frowned at them all; eyes showing a fierceness that no one was used to seeing there. He'd become very protective of the blonde kunouchi, the last living member of his original Genin team, and though there was nothing he could do about them, the stares bothered him more than it did her.

The Jounin tightened his grip around the blonde's shoulders for a moment, a muttered greeting was exchanged between the two, and then Shikamaru pulled himself away from her. The fierce anger, the one that had never been there in his younger days, was all but gone from his face as he moved to walk beside her (one arm still wrapped protectivly around her shoulders).

Both shinobii, though only one was still in active duty, had suffered since the rest of their team died; Asuma felled by the Akatsuki member Hidan, Choji by a Grass-nin that had caught him off gaurd. This was the one night that they were supposed to be celebrating a new-life though, a new leader for their village, a new beggining.

On the street across from them, half-hidden in the crowd of colorful robes and kimono's, another set of shinobii walked together. They were heading towards the scarred couple on the other side of the road though, unlike the other two, their pace was rather leisurely.

The taller of the two, Sabuku-no-Kankuro, was clad in a deep violet and fairly loose-fitting kimono. There was no kabuki paint on his face or cat-like hood covering the mop of brown hair like he normally wore but that didn't stop the villagers from giving him odd was, after all, a shinobii from Sunagakure at a celebration celebrated only in Konohagakure.

It wasn't even the type of event that someone like Kankuro would enjoy. Walking around and watching petals fall from the cherry blossom trees, paying to play stupid little games at the booths lining the street, shivering in the cold weather (even colder to him seeing as Kankuro lived in a desert most of the time) and sloshing through mounds of snow.

But he was grinning and laughing all the same. Not because he was enjoying the festival, Kami no, but because the boy beside him seemed to be having a good time. That was the only reason that he'd taken the long journey to Konoha, on his own vacation time (which after saving it up for almost four years equaled almost a week and a half) none the less.

He didn't know why but the boy beside him, Kiba Inuzuka, had become rather attached to him over the years. In fact, aside from the two shinobii that they were on their way to meet, Kankuro was the only person from Kiba's Genin days that he still spoke too.

It was actually a sight that granted more pity, a larger twist to the heart, then the scarred couple across the street. Kiba had been a boistrous, gung-hoe Genin with a heart of gold and the strength to back his promises up. And then he'd lost everything; Shino Aburame (team-mate and best friend) was killed in combat, Hinata Hyuuga (the girl that he loved enough to give his life for and to let her live her own life) had married the Hokage and left him behind, Kurenai-sensei (teacher and the reason he'd gone so far) just a shell of herself after her daughter and husband died, Tsume Inuzuka and Hana Inuzuka (his mother and sister) both died in battle. And he'd never quite been the same.

Kiba pulled the dark red kimono, standard syle for the leader of a clan at this sort of event, tighter around himself and gave the taller man beside him a shaky grin. He didn't speak much these days, not much to say and not many people to say it to, but the look on his face said it all.

Thanks for coming, Kanky. You must think I'm so pathetic acting like this here. I apreciate you humoring me though, I know you're bored as anything.

And Kankuro just wrapped his arm around the dog-warrior's shoulders and pointed towards the couple that was heading towards them, the crowds parting slightly around them. The two sets of shinobii met in the middle of the street, greetings were exchanged, and then all four of them headed off down another road together.

The four had come together since it happened, since Team Seven came back and became the stars of Konoha even though they'd done virtually nothing. And, even to someone like himself, it wad heart-wrnetching to watch. He didn't get how the others in his village couldn't see it (the pain and the misery that those four were living through and the love and friendship that they'd gotten from it) but then again, maybe it was because he was different from them that he could.

"Hey, Sai! What are you doing over there on your own?" The young artist tilted his head to the side as he looked over at the person calling him, Naruto Uzumaki (the currant hokage and Hinata's husband), and smiled slightly.

Of course. Naruto never understood the way that he worked; how he thought things out and picked apart the little details of everything. He didn't expect the blonde to understand this either. Just like he didn't understand why, how, or when the four shinobii (one from a different village, one from a team that they had hated) had joined together.

But Sai did.

None the less, Sai put the notebook that he'd been painting in away and stood up from his spot on the street corner. Naruto might have been just as obnoxious as he always was but now that he was Hokage, saying no was not something that he could do. So he put a smile on his face and followed Naruto to join Sasuke (a traitor) and Sakura (who was as pathetic as it came) at the local ramen stand.

Maybe later he'd go and wish the four shinobii, the real heroes of the village that had taken him in, a good night and a safe winter.