There was a time before the Shinobi Islands disappeared off the map. Once, they had been part of the Old World, and hidden deep in the earth are still mounds for funerals, charms for births, clay dolls that were so akin to those of neighboring lands.
Through time, this land blossomed a civilization, and with it came innovation that built and built until there stood an empire, with fifty thousand towers that speared the sky, a mixture of stone and timber and carried water to incredible heights, the song of fifty million dreams.
Edward was told it took a thousand years for the greatest empire of the west to fall. Sakura was told it took one night for the largest empire of the east to crumple.
War was global, but so was religion, and as the cross spread on one side of the planet, the circle found the other. The west recovered first, putting together their lost arts and sciences, while the islands were still struggling through chaos. By the time the first shinobi were unified, their fires turn from destruction to energy, the west had already entered their age of discovery, of expansion, of exchange.
The first contact in a millennia began with a man of hair the color of the sun, and eyes the the color of the ocean. He stood in a background of three grand ships that overwhelmed the native fishing boats. Blown into the harbor by the winds of a hurricane, he stepped onto the shore with boots of strapped leather and a caliver joined at the hip.
He shook hands with the leader of the shinobi. Behind the leader were not three ships, but three children: two sons, and one daughter, who would control the winds to guide the explorers home.
From then on, the islands flourished from new seeds and ways of agriculture. Scales and compasses were exchanged for boxes of tea and dusts of gold. A port thrived through a village that controlled the tides, allowing trading ships to land in safety. There was an era of reunion and peace.
That is, until the old rule was overturned by the new and all doors closed, every ship sunk into the whirlpools.
Time moved on. The New World came, and with it, the steam engine, gas lighting, typewriters. The British Empire rose and fell; thirteen colonies transformed into the next seats of power. By the time Konohagakure was founded in 1929, history had already forgotten them.
When Mito Uzumaki dispatched the first explorers outside the islands, their nights were lit by candles, their letters written by ink. Mailed back to her were photographs of clocks, trains, and the brightly lit streets of the city of Chicago. In one of these photographs was a smiling young woman in aviation goggles, smeared in mechanical oil, eyes burning with fire and lips curved in mischief.
This young woman would later come to their village, install the first wires of electricity, the poles for telephones, radio devices and printing machines. She would introduce the cans for meats and bottles for milk. She would give Konoha the first push into the future. Finally, she would give the village a son, who would in turn give children of his own.
As one final gesture of goodwill.
One final legacy.
Sakura finds them in honestly the first place she should have checked. Naruto is waving his chopsticks, while Edward is fighting the urge to dunk himself into his bowl of ramen.
Edward straightens when Sakura parts the noren.
"Oh thank god you're here. How do you say 'paradise' in your language?"
Sakura strokes her chin. "Hm, closest equivalent heaven or utopia. Why do you ask?"
"Your friend isn't get what I'm saying. He keeps talking about the moon, whenever I explain to him to Genesis."
Sakura looks befuddled, until her face lights in realization. "Ah, you refer to bestseller book." She pauses. "Not my favorite. Too long, scenes skip too much, characterization not consistent. "
"... Sakura. The Bible isn't fiction."
Edward sighs, though he can see how she made the mistake. It just means he has to try harder. It is unforgivable that he, as a good, white, morally-conscious vampire, ever step into an exotic, heathenic land and not spread the word of one true Lord and Savior. Esme would guilt-trip him into next eternity otherwise.
But if this whole starting-from-Genesis thing doesn't stick, maybe he'll do an abridged version. Jump right into good part, where they crucified a poor guy and then made him God… er, God's Son… Spirit… it's the same thing.
"Oh, course not. It is history. Origin story to be precise."
"Wait… you believe?"
Sakura nods. "You speak of woman who eat forbidden fruit, correct? It is our history too. Naruto trying to tell you he understands, hence reference to moon."
Huh. Maybe someone has already spread the message before Edward got here. He blinks. "Wait, how is the moon connected?"
"Because woman from moon," Sakura replies matter-of-factly.
Edward does not know how she managed to say that with a straight face. He opens his mouth. Then closes it. Then opens it again. "Did you just imply Eve is an alien?"
She raises an eyebrow in response. "No, she is rabbit-race. Fruit is alien."
"..."
Okay, nevermind, the holy message has not, repeat, has not been spread in this land. Alternatively, the person who tried to spread it was a crackjob, because even Lauren has better conspiracy theories than that. And how is Sakura still taking all of this with a straight face?
While Edward is trying to imagine an apple floating inside an UFO, Sakura exchanges a look with Naruto, both shrugging.
"Maa, Sakura-chan, he's been asking me about usa-obaa-chan for, like, an hour." Naruto stacks his empty bowl before furtively sliding in Edward's uneaten one. "I keep trying to tell him she's sleeping, but I think he really wants to meet her."
"Well, Edward can manage with his curiosities." They are not waking God Almighty again, for whatever reason. Great person, very powerful, very inspiring, may have tried to end humanity a few times, but you know, that's water under the bridge, all that matters is they're not screwing up the world anymore, or rather, they can haphazardly fix it before she wakes up each time. So it's all good.
The noren waves back once more.
Naruto beams, hurriedly beckoning Teuchi for another two orders of ramen. "Sasuke!" he greets.
Wordlessly, Sasuke takes the free stool to Naruto's right, secretly pleased when the bowl comes and it is his typical order, all the way down to the side of extra beef.
"How'd it go? How'd it go?" Naruto asks, bouncing in his seat.
"They've agreed to release my brother." Sasuke grabs a pair of chopsticks, but does not raise them just yet. Instead, he looks at Sakura with unspoken words. Too many unspoken words.
Not everything needs to be said. She returns his smile, giving a small nod.
"Edward?"
Edward raises his head. "Hm?"
"Come on, you do not eat." She beckons him to follow her out, leaving her teammates alone in the dining establishment, the noren closing behind them.
As they walk away, Edward glances back, catching sight of the legs of two footstools, and the feet that are close enough to just touch. It takes him a minute, before his back straightens in alarm, his head whipped in Sakura's direction. Oh. Oh.
After a few steps out, they start simultaneously, "So-"
"Oh sorry, go on."
"No no, after you."
After some dancing back and forth, Edward decided to just go for it. "So, I was speaking to your friend earlier, and he mentioned something called the obon festivals...?" Before Sakura can interject, he adds, "Now, I know you're insanely busy, with the fallout that is, um, us breaking the law and creating an immortal despite explicit orders not to, and by the way, thank you for getting me out of jail for that one, though you kinda were there too, but I probably would have been there longer, or beheaded, and also, while we're on this topic, can I possibly recommend a court, or trial by jury, or any sort of criminal justice system really, because how is it you guys don't have one yet, but that's besides the point, because what I'm really trying to say in my atrociously worded and ill-prepared ramble is-"
They stop in the middle of the street. Edward clears his throat. "Haruno Sakura, want you obon me?" he asks, extending a hand.
Sakura says nothing, just staring at his hand, then at him.
When an awkward minute passes and she still does not reply, Edward is scrambling his mind. He lowers his hand, then extends it again with renewed vigor. "Haruno Sakura, me want obon want?"
"..."
"Obon wanbo? Us obonbono… bo." Dammit, he swears he memorized that line correctly. Is it the intonations? Oh screw it. "I'm asking if you'd like to-"
Something slams on his chest.
"I understand you first time."
Confused, Edward looks down to see a packet of folded paper and bamboo, as well as candlesticks. Sakura is no longer looking at him, marching ahead. His confusion slowly changes to lightheaded joy, as he rushes to keep pace.
Together, they continue walking down the streets of the village, the smile never quite leaving his face and the blush never quite leaving hers. Everything would have been perfect until...
"Oh. My. GODS."
Ino has dropped her ice cream. Hinata bumps into Ino not a second later, several of their old classmates and colleagues halted in place as well.
"Is that Sakura? When did she get back?"
And the more pressing question, "Who. IS. HE?!"
"Edward?" Sakura whispers lowly.
"Yeah?"
"Run."
Kurenai stares out the window of the Hokage tower. "Should we get her, Hokage-sama?"
Kakashi does not look up from his book. "After everything, the girl deserves a bit of a break, no?"
Tsunade looks through one paper after the next on her desk, before putting them all down with a heavy sigh. "I think these pictures speak for themselves."
Digital music. Lasers. Fiberoptics. Global positioning system. Genetic modification. Magnetic resonance imaging. Clones. Wireless. Spacecrafts flying to edges of the solar system.
Thermonuclear weapons. A shockwave strong enough to obliterate the earth, a fireball hot enough to incinerate the ocean, an afterglow lethal enough to end all life, one that will haunt you to the opposite side of the globe.
This isn't the power of a biju. This isn't the power of a god. This is the power of people. Ordinary, undistinguished people, who came together and created something not even gods would dare oppose.
"How did this happen."
How did they miss this. How did their calculations of the outside world become so far off. How did a bunch of plain people get to where they are from nothing but a few metal gears and hot coal.
"Because we have been basing their progress off ours," Kurenai whispers.
And progress in the Shinobi Island is linear. But that is not the case with theirs. Theirs starts slow, far slower than those of any of their rivals. But over time, it grows, it expands, it compounds. Everyone miscalculated because...
"They're moving on an exponential curve." Kakashi closes his book. "Sakura predicts their power will overtake ours within the next hundred years, if not sooner."
Tsunade says nothing, only laces her fingers together under her chin, in deep thought. She is well-versed in history, and it is not merciful on the weak. Any civilization that lags behind will eventually pay its penalty, in one form or another. She can only pray that it is not too late already.
With a final sigh, she stands up. Sending Sakura out had been the right move, even if for the wrong reasons. Her old council, who have remained silent throughout the meeting, whose advice has all but lost relevance in these new times, can only concede when she opens the door and gives her command.
"Order a summit of all Kage."
The ANBU bow and disappear.
No more petty wars and conflicts. No more sabotage and secrets, the cycle of vicious backstab and competition. From now on, all shinobi nations will cooperate. They will share the knowledge they have, and they will adapt, and they will advance.
Most of all, they will survive. They will not perish from the hubris of others. They will not be made the victims of genocide.
She pushes one last set of doors.
He sits on an open windowsill, his body framed by bright light. Outside, the weather is changing the skies, blending the colors and stirring the wind. It blows through his hair, the loose folds of his clothes.
Slowly he turns to greet his visitor.
Tsunade only needs a glance to know. His eyes are clear and lucid, the color of liquid gold. They are eyes that are freed of the darkness that shrouded him in his youth, eyes that tell Tsunade this is not the same man they once knew, despite what Sasuke hopes and Sakura believes.
After all, this is the first time that Uchiha Itachi can see.
It is the first time that he can see everything.
Mozart, Requiem in D minor, K. 626, Lacrimosa. The night is black, the gloves are white. Hand in hand, step in step, guests enter in pairs, feathering coattails and dragging gowns.
It is under the glow of a million jewels, the spiral of marble and architecture ascending endlessly into the heavens, that Carlisle makes his bow with an old acquaintance.
"Aro, it has been a long time."
"Too long, dear friend."
Aro's smile never breaks as he turns to the guest by Carlisle's side. "And who might be this beautiful lady?"
"My adopted daughter, Alice."
His lips press against her gloved hand. "A pleasure."
The violins pull, trembles, notes hanging like ghosts through the grand ballroom.
"May I have you for a dance, my lovely Alice?"
Alice smiles behind widow's lace. "I could ask for nothing better."
She extends her hand, and she is gone, off her feet and across the floor, the world reduced to nothing but the blurs of motion, the spinning ecstasy of the waltz. Her gown sweeps, a daring combination of red and black, hearts and crosses, the single dahlia amidst rows of daisies.
His voice is dark with seduction, his teeth sharp. "Is this your first time in Vienna, my Alice?"
"Second. It has not changed much."
He laughs. "An endearing trait, no? Everything is always as you left it."
"Not always. Not forever."
A fond look. "Indeed Carlisle's daughter."
One last note and they bow, her hand escorted back to her father's side. "She is most charming, Carlisle, I could not be happier for your find." He accepts a drink from the server, deep, deep red, almost black, thick and viscous, dragging down the edges of the glass where it is once tilted. His smile has returned, full and wider than ever. "Now, did you come to reminisce, or to ask me of something?"
Carlisle takes seat, one leg folded over the other. "I cannot do both?"
Aro is rejoiced to see the centuries have not worn down the other's arrogance, such mighty arrogance, the man who sought to play God and pull humans like puppets in a theatre. The man who turned anatomy to art, carved them open layer by layer in the deepest chambers of his dungeons, skins unfolded like the wings of a deranged butterfly, his fingers stained with as much ink as it was blood.
Never before and never after had Aro met any man of such brilliance, such intellect, to arouse so much fascination and fire within him. Every circle and line, sketch and number, languages both old and new... Aro kept the entire collection, each one of his friend's notebooks carefully bounded and preserved in his personal library, books he still reads every blue moon, just to hear that beautiful voice once more.
Disagreements, they have so many. Too many of those horrible, uncompromising disagreements. But never once has Aro lost his fondness. Never once has he not desired of Carlisle's return, the return of his one true equal.
And so, with wide arms, "Anything you desire."
Tonight, Aro will indulge him.
"I am blessed you still see me a friend as I do you," Carlisle says, his hand guiding Alice back to the ancient vampire. "Which is why I will present to you a gift."
"My. And what might that be?"
Here, Alice smiles, opening her palms for his hand.
"A glimpse," Carlisle tells him.
And a glimpse Aro has received, the second Alice brings that same hand up for a kiss.
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Her lips leave, but not before instilling one more image. It is of three women, Alice in the middle, holding up a device that the other two peers into. Reflected in the device is a mirror image, that with a tap, saves their smiles.
A single moment in time perfectly captured, every micro-expression, every nuance in movement, all contained in one moving picture.
Aro does not know when a wine glass has found its way into Carlisle's hand, lifted in a toast.
"To our past."
It takes a moment for Aro to recover, but when he does, he comes back with no loss of charisma.
"To our future."
Alice skips to the balcony, inhaling the first breath she has had since the ball.
"Carlisle, did I ever tell you some of your old friends are real creeps?" she says, pouting. And this coming from a girl delighted by all things creepy and macabre.
Carlisle places a hand in her shoulder. "Sorry Alice. I won't ask you to endure such an uncomfortable situation again."
"But the Volturi is on our side?"
"That is what it would appear."
He and Aro do not agree on everything, but if there is one thing they have for each other, it is mutual respect. Aro will not dismiss the warning Carlisle has provided him, and Carlisle can rely on the Volturi leader to keep their kind protected and unified, to be prepared for these changing times. Hopefully, it will also keep him too occupied to meddle with Carlisle's family affairs. Esme and Emmett have only just de-escalated the situation with the Quileutes. Then there is Sakura's notebook, the promise of a breakthrough that Rosalie is thoroughly testing alongside Jasper.
The cure for vampiric thirst... Carlisle almost would not believe it had Alice not seen it with her own eyes, finally seen it after eluding her visions for so long, seen Edward return a changed man. Carlisle will need a long conversation with the woman responsible for bringing it to them, for shedding the light into the dark, for persevering despite all his attempts to deter her. And for that, from one scientist to another, he owes her both his deepest apology and his deepest gratitude.
"Sakura… were you able to keep her hidden from Aro's eyes?"
"Difficult to say, I'm not sure how much he extracted from me, past or future." Alice pauses. She is thinking of Sakura too, but for different reasons. Thoughts of Sakura simply always leave Alice in delight. She cannot help but want another dance, to celebrate the future when her newly-found friend comes back to her. The days when they can shop to their heart's content. When they can game, and cosplay, and Tweet, and exchange endless selfies on Instagram.
"And Edward? You checked again that he is okay?"
At this, Alice has to giggle. If only Carlisle knew.
Her feet lands on top of the baluster, her fingers laced behind her back. She thinks of her brother, who has finally freed himself of his cordages and unlocked his own chains.
"Edward," she says, looking dreamily at the stars. "Edward will end up in the best place of all."