Enjoy!


Sasuke and Hinata were sitting together beneath a narrow tree, splitting one strip of shade between them. The sun was starting to go down, with the sky becoming orange and red. An excited Hinata whispered a few inches from Sasuke's ear, touching her hand to his left shoulder. "The fireworks are only a few hours away. Aren't you excited?" She was giddy, smiling, and honest.

The excitement pushed a heavy smile onto Sasuke's contemplative face, and he sighed with relaxed bliss. So much training, so much 'crime fighting,' and so much stress had been driving his emotions since his return to the village. Truth be told, he needed this day off at the festival even more than his partner did. His voice was tired, but soothed. "You're excited enough for both of us." His shoulder relaxed while Hinata's fingers tried to mimic Sasuke's from a while before, squeezing and needling. She was good at it, too, and Sasuke caught a moment where his throat tensed and he groaned softly.

Hinata smiled sheepishly after she encouraged such a sound, gently blushing while dropping the guilty hand to her lap. Her fingers folded together and she looked around. The mood was starting to shift. The wild, eager festivities were becoming a slower, softer revelry. Energy had been spent all day, and now that the heat was beginning to soften with the gradual sunset, the masses were slowing down to appreciate it.

"Where's Hanabi?" Sasuke inquired, prompted by the position of the dwindling sun above. His relaxed posture was the first clue that he had no intention of standing up to search—he had confidence that the heiress could handle herself, and so did Hinata. Still, they were supposed to have met up at the arena when the roster was revealed. An hour had already passed since then.

Hinata nestled herself back against the tree, sloped and supportive. "She'll be here soon," she guessed, murmuring lazily. A covered yawn escaped her, and she turned her body against the comfortably misshapen bark to sink into her relaxation. "Sorry...I'm exhausted."

Sasuke looked over Hinata as she rested, body curved and compressed by the urge to sleep. He exhaled through his nose. "All your hard work caught up to you." His gloved hand found its way to the crown of hair on her head, pleasantly stroking through the clean strands, tucking some of them behind her ear.

Hinata's hips wiggled slightly to deepen her rest, and her cheeks blazed red. She loved it when he touched her hair, so she didn't complain or stir. She enjoyed the moment, fully expecting it to be interrupted soon. Rather than have a voice call from the side as usual, she was allowed to rest beneath Sasuke's touch for a while. She cooed gently under a slow and methodical caress of her hair and skin, until the lazily repeated motion lulled her into a soft, soundless sleep.

With Hinata asleep against the tree, Sasuke exhaled a subtle sigh. His heart had slowed to a patient crawl, relaxed and calm. He was partially relieved that Hinata had drifted away—for her sake, and for his. She deserved the rest, and for his part, the longer she slept, the less likely he was to make a mistake. For better or worse, Sasuke took a break from the pressure of her companionship. She made for a sweet pressure, but it was a stress in its own way. He allowed her to sleep, watching protectively over her.

Meanwhile, Hanabi returned. She was more than an hour past when she had been expected, but she was all smiles with a bounce in her step. She had reapplied her make-up, mostly because she knew better than to give a guy like Sasuke any clues to what happened. The pattern of sweaty smears would have been as good as a confession.

As she got closer, she saw that Hinata was sleeping, so her approach was modified to accommodate: she began to tip-toe, making a game of her silence. Sasuke watched her with wary eyes, expecting shenanigans. The only difference he saw between her departure and her arrival was a pair of white bandages wrapped around her knuckles, palms, and wrists. The look reminded him a little bit of Lee's, though it complemented the summery yellow-orange of her dress.

"She fell asleep on you, huh?" Hanabi chimed when she got close enough, holding her voice down. Her foot lifted slightly as if ready to nudge her sister's hip with a heel, but she held back from being a pest.

Sasuke nodded, writing off the fresh bandages as a fashion statement. He didn't understand much about 'style,' but Hanabi reminded him of Ino: naturally able to pick up random accessories to build up a complementary look. "She's tired," he explained curtly.

Hanabi smirked, leering at Sasuke with a rare opportunity. "Out like a light," she murmured, rounding the tree to the third 'side,' opposite of Hinata and adjacent to Sasuke. She sat down where there wasn't any shade, but the sun was low enough that it felt good on her face. "You work her pretty hard, huh?"

"She asks me to," Sasuke responded. A yes, but one with a modifier to justify it. It surely must have seemed from the outside that he was pushing her too hard, but he knew she could endure.

"Father pushes me the same way," the teen girl sighed, settling in the soft green grass and setting the back of her head against a wedge in the bark of the tree, assuring her place was secure. "It's rough, but we Hyuuga are built for it."

"Some of them," Sasuke noted, raising a knee and draping his arm over it. "You two are the best they've got."

"Not quite, but I'd say we've both learned from the best." She looked high up, through the leaves overhead, to escape the possibility of eye contact. She was doing her best to forget what had just happened. The ache in her chest, the parasite leeching off her thoughts. She had betrayed Konoha by striking a deal with Nissho; even now, she should have told Sasuke everything. The robed man was far too strong for her, but for Sasuke he would have been a plaything. Hanabi was quiet, but it passed for calm rather than concern.

"You mean your father?" Sasuke broke the minor silence; his eyes were closed but his ears were always open.

"That's right. During the war, I hear he was able to fend off one of the Juubi's tails by himself..." Hanabi trailed off, imagining the magnitude of it. The tale was certainly true; she had heard it from Hinata and Naruto both. Hiashi never spoke of his own deeds, but he didn't need to. Others were eager to carry his torch for him. "He's the strongest shinobi that our clan has ever seen. All I've ever wanted is to be like him."

"You're on your way," Sasuke assured. Hinata slept peacefully beside him, only occasionally stirring as familiar voices tickled her ears. She seemed to sleep all the deeper knowing that she was surrounded by people she trusted. "Keep training, keep fighting hard, and you'll grow to be even better than him."

Hanabi thought back to her father's fight with her sister. It was a spectacle she couldn't forget—the shape manipulation of Hinata's lightning was unlike anything she had ever seen. Rather, unlike anything she had seen until she had encountered Nissho's 'mirror release.' "You want Hinata to beat me, right? Is that why you're training her."

Sasuke turned his head at that. Hanabi was sulking a little, head down with her hair over her eyes. He thought for a moment, navigating treacherous waters. "I want what's best for her. She told me she's tired of being rescued."

"She also feels guilty about Neji," Hanabi added. "She thinks he would've lived if she had been stronger."

Sasuke nodded, gazing regretfully down at the sleeping princess. "She carries a lot of guilt she doesn't deserve."

"You both do." Hanabi reminded him. "I mean, you've done bad stuff to the village, but you shouldn't walk around like you expect to be stabbed in the back all the time. It's old news."

On the defensive now, Sasuke sought to justify his guilt. "You haven't seen their faces when they look at me. I can recognize hate when I see it." Not everyone, no, but enough of them. Kiba Inuzuka. Yoshino Nara. Random civilians here and there; it all came together as a weight on his back. It didn't feel so heavy anymore, but it remained. "Still...it's not as bad as it was. Hinata makes me feel..." He searched for the word.

"Loved?" Hanabi teased with an impish smirk.

Sasuke turned to hide the red on his cheeks behind his hair. "Forgiven." He stubbornly corrected. "Like I can finally put the evils behind me."

"Y'know, I always thought you were kind of a hard-ass, Sasuke. It's weird hearing you get all vulnerable." The teen was still teasing him, having paid enough attention to Hinata's stories to learn how best to do it.

"You're a brat," Sasuke stated flat. After a pause: "But that doesn't mean I don't like you."

It was Hanabi's turn to feel the stab of guilt. Would you like me if you knew I was a traitor? Expertly concealing her misgivings, she instead grinned in her favorite obnoxious manner. "Everybody likes me. I'm the favorite."

"You're lucky to be loved. Don't waste any of it." Life advice from a perpetual screw-up? He was doing his best.

Hanabi seemed to taste the notion by twisting her tongue around it. "I'm luckier than most...my family's rich, and Father gives me all the attention I could ever want—sometimes a little too much, but I'd rather have that than nothing." She frowned. "I know we don't, like...know each other...not really, but I'm sorry about what happened to your family. Must've been rough growing up alone."

"I made it work," he answered. "Almost."

"From here, it looks like you've done great." Hanabi picked a bit of dirt out from under fingernail. A tiny pellet of glass came out beside it, and her breath caught silently. "A-anyway, who are you fighting first? I haven't had a chance to look at the bracket."

"I'm with Rock Lee. You're going up against a woman from the Mist; someone I've never heard of." The idle chatter made a good backdrop for the scurry of people heading one direction or the other. The Donut of the festival was still lively, though the slow darkening of the sky had put a damper on the excitement. A crowd could only spend so much energy in a day.

"A woman from the Mist? I guess that's good. I don't have to worry about humiliating any friends of ours right away." Despite the bravado, Hanabi was being forced to breathe slowly, otherwise the thick bruise in her chest would respond and she'd give herself away. She had thought about avoiding Sasuke for the rest of the night—if anybody could spot her guilt, she figured it would be either him or Hinata. Thankfully, though it made Hanabi all the more jealous, both of their thoughts were focused strictly on one another. "How'd you guys do at lunch?"

"We ate it," Sasuke delivered plainly. "Seafood, like Ino suggested."

"Ino seems smart. Smart enough to make you look good." She snickered, as if it were a secret 'insult.' At that point, Hanabi took up a small cloth sack she had purchased to hold her winnings. She began to dig through the trinkets and knick-knacks—they had been left behind when she pursued the voice in her head, but she later returned to gather them. "I tried that ball-ring game you did, but I never came close. How the heck did you do it?"

Sasuke shrugged. The combat-ready material of his fine clothes held strong against the friction of the tree bark. "It's in the wrist."

Hanabi rolled her eyes privately, head turned away. "Yeah, I figured you'd say something like that. I'm not great with shuriken throwing, but the Uchiha were known for it, weren't they?"

"We still are," Sasuke corrected. "I'm not extinct yet."

"Sorry, bad phrasing," Hanabi sighed. She had grown up referring to the Uchiha in the past tense; sometimes it slipped her mind that Sasuke was alive, breathing, and one of them. When she was around him, he felt like a phantom. He was so deeply in control of his body and mind that he seemed spiritually silent, stone-like. Except, of course, for when he was around her big sister. "It takes a lot of practice, doesn't it? Throwing shuriken the way you do. Were you that good when you were just a kid?"

"I had to learn, but my brother had a gift. He practiced, but it seemed to me like he didn't have to. Like it was all for show. Everything seemed natural to him—like how your skills come naturally to you. Hinata tells me you're gifted." And the results spoke for themselves; two fully-grown men dead in an alley after crossing her. At the time, Sasuke had been concerned about the coldness in her heart—it would be a lie to say that his worries had dissipated since. When he looked at the carefree young heiress, he understood why being friendly on the surface wasn't quite enough to appease his doubters. Once a person's true nature had been glimpsed, it took quite a lot to overwrite it.

"Gifted's a word for it, but Father would say I'm disciplined." Hanabi produced a candy ball from her bag of prizes, unwrapping it and popping it in her mouth to suckle. "He's a great teacher, but sometimes I wish you had picked me as your pupil instead of Hinata."

Sasuke's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "He wouldn't allow that, I suspect."

Hanabi pouted slightly. "Yeah, I know he wouldn't. He hasn't taught Hinata anything in years, but she still hasn't told him about you. I think she's worried he might be upset." The candy bulging under her cheek swapped sides. "She's not wrong."

The subject was intriguing to Sasuke. Hinata had been vague about what happened between her and her father. "You saw their fight, didn't you?"

"I saw it," Hanabi nodded, trying to hide her irritation at the thought. "It was inspiring. I'd never seen Hinata move like that before. Father, either. I think he was actually trying his hardest to fend her off."

"She's strong," Sasuke concurred, watching Hinata sleep like an angel a few inches to the left of him. "Stronger than I thought she'd be."

"Yeah..." Hanabi drifted into her own thoughts. "She's gifted, too."

Sasuke hadn't missed the doubt and jealousy—he had gleaned them from the younger sister a half a dozen times before. Today it seemed more prevalent, as if something had changed. Despite everything, despite his very nature, Sasuke didn't want to hurt Hanabi's feelings. At some point, caring for Hinata had extended into caring for her family by proxy. Hanabi most of all. He softened his tone and offered some encouragement: "You both have the same blood. Your father knows that better than I do—and he's the only one who can teach you how to use your family's techniques. You're better off under him than you would be with me."

"That sounded kinda humble. You sure you're Sasuke?" Hanabi laughed softly. "Sometimes, even the Hyuuga's best techniques aren't strong enough." She was thinking of an hour or two prior—Nissho's attack had pierced straight through the Kaiten. She wondered if the same would have happened to her father; how strong was the stranger, really?

Sasuke, however, took a different meaning from her comment. "Not even Naruto could stand up to the Juubi alone—Neji didn't die because of weakness."

"I know, I know," Hanabi winced. It was an unexpected sore spot. Neji was much closer to Hinata than to Hanabi, but the younger one still loved him as family. "I couldn't have changed anything, especially not back then. I'd be dead, too."

"Protect your family, okay? Don't let them die, and don't let jealousy consume them." His dark eyes landed on Hanabi pointedly. The last remark was meant for her.

Hanabi gulped. How much had Sasuke figured out already? She felt stupid for trying to sit next to him and chat as if nothing had happened, but she wanted things to be normal. Why couldn't they just be normal? "I'll...do my best, Sasuke, thanks." She closed her eyes and pursed her lips, waiting for the accusation. It never came. Nissho's voice echoed: Stop worrying so much. Maybe he was right. Maybe things were going to be okay. Normal.

Sasuke's words had fallen inward, too. Two awake, one asleep, the trio silently occupied the bottom of the tree just off the path, all facing in different directions. The world kept moving, even while they were still.


The Sixth Hokage was busy at his desk, though one of his clones had just burst in the village—with its cancellation, Kakashi was given an update to what was occurring on the festival grounds. He hummed under his mask, one hand writing swiftly on a document, the other digging around in a drawer for some corresponding paperwork. "Everything's going well," he said aloud, for Shizune's sake.

She was digging around at another end of the office, gathering even more information. "You should take a break, Lord Hokage," she suggested for the thirtieth time that day. "The closing festivities are going to start soon. You promised you'd make time for them."

"I said I would if I could," he corrected smoothly. His current task-load came via sorting visitor forms. Though the festival was deemed 'open attendance,' and all peoples from all the nations were permitted, there was still a need to keep track of who had come and gone. Peaceful world or not, the goings-on in recent months had been cause for concern with the leadership of the villages. "The elders made it clear that we have to sign off on every visitor before the tournament begins."

Shizune sighed, rubbing her temple patiently. "So have the clerks do it. If they find anything strange with anybody, they can leave it on your desk for when you come back. Tomorrow morning." Under Tsunade's leadership, Shizune had been the one to advocate for more work, less play. Kakashi had proven to be the opposite—he was a man on a mission, instilled with a sense of duty. Perhaps the absence of open threats had compelled him to devote his every waking moment to the mundane. How else could he do his part to assure the future of the village?

Kakashi set his pen down flat on the desk, shoulders slumping and mask puffing lightly as he exhaled. He relaxed a bit too much, and his head teetered forward to land with a thump against the hardwood of the desk. Silence hung in the room for a moment, and his muffled voice slipped from between his masked lips and the wood. "I guess a break wouldn't hurt."

Shizune grinned and sidled up to him, patting him on the upper back. "Good. Be sure to dress nicely; the dance is starting soon, and I'll bet the Mizukage will be looking for you."

Kakashi sighed, sitting up and leaning back in his chair. He focused on a random spot on the ceiling. "On second thought, working myself to death sounds like a good idea."

Shizune puffed a laugh through her nose. "I know it's a lot to ask, but if you go to the dance, your guards can go, too. They deserve a break after a tough week, right?"

"Why do I get the feeling you're trying to play matchmaker?" Kakashi hummed, half-suspicious.

Shizune laughed nervously, waving a hand up and down trying to fan the notion away. "Oh you know, young love finds its way regardless. Why not encourage it?"

"Who do you have in mind?" The Hokage asked, now curious enough to question her.


Sai was perched atop the massive arena, having swallowed enough sunlight throughout the day to cook a cart-full of eggs. The heat didn't bother him; he was conditioned for much worse than that. The day had actually been pleasantly uneventful. He was thankful that his assigned partner, Assana, was just as quiet as he was, watching rather than speaking. As the sun drooped down, the time of the dance approached. One problem remained: "Assana, I have a strange question for you."

Her expressionless mask managed to look confused as she turned her head his way. "A strange question?"

Sai nodded. "Do you know how to dance?"

The motionless silence told the truth of how strange the question actually was to her. The young girl contemplated her answer. "I've seen people dance. I don't know how to do it myself." She scanned the slowing bustle from her perch atop the arena itself, like studying ants in the number of thousands. "This is about Ino Yamanaka, isn't it?"

Sai flexed his lips under his mask, wriggling it against his face as he worried himself. "I think she expects me to dance with her tonight, but I've never learned how. The books I've read are helpful, but without a partner to practice with, I'm afraid I have no way of knowing whether or not I'm doing it correctly."

Assana's stare was unmoving. "...I'll pass."

Sai hummed in defeat. "I thought so."

Another minute passed in professional silence before Assana offered a compromise: "If you're worried about it, I can cover for you. Go find your girl and tell her you can't dance. Maybe she'll teach you."

"I can't abandon my post for a reason like that," Sai rationalized.

"Then send an ink clone."

The thought crossed Sai's mind, and he pictured a scenario where the ink that constituted the clone might find its way onto Ino's skin, into her hair, or onto her clothes. A nightmare if ever there had been one. "It would be better if I left the clone here and went to see her in person."

Assana didn't let on how she was amused by her flustered superior. She had been trained like him never to show emotions. His veil had cracked, though; she could see that he was antsy. "Just go. I can see to the observations for a while."

Sai was already signing to create a clone to leave behind as he stood. "I'll make it up to you." He stepped forward, leaving behind a glob of inky black that strongly resembled his basic shape. As he moved away, the ink took on the features of his clothes and mask, replicating him perfectly. While the real man leapt off the top of the massive structure, his clone idly perched beside Assana, hardly a difference from before. Silence above, revelry below.


Elsewhere, outside the festivities and planning, a prison was entered again. The recent visit from Sai, Ino, and Shikamaru had been a rare occurrence; the vicious men and women trapped in the sterile white passage were often held indefinitely. No trial, no release, no interaction but for the most necessary. So it was strange that the same prisoner was receiving another visitor—this time, though, it was not sanctioned by the office of the Hokage. This time, the visitor wore a blank white mask. She had been allowed inside without a fuss, having known the passwords and signs to permit access. Her cover ran deep; when necessary, she could act precisely as one who belonged.

Miotosa found and unlocked her target with the unique combination of seals, then took the scroll from within: Shell's scroll. Examination revealed the seal to be the work of Sai, as she had expected. Fortunately for her, Sai's methods were born of Root, and so had she been. With the scroll in hand, she requested access to the interview room, and by way of her written credentials—genuine, not forged—she was allowed to enter. When prompted to leave her metal objects behind, she gave a silent glance and a shrug of her shoulders. There were none in her possession.

As the door closed hard behind her, the wheel was turned and she was locked in a white room with a gray chair and shackles. She popped the cap off the end of the scroll case, unraveling it on the floor and performing the signs she assumed would break it open. At first, she failed—Sai had refined his technique, and it was no longer the version known by much of Root. "That's alright," she whispered to herself.

It took some time, but she was able to decode the patterns of the symbols upon the paper, deducing the matrices of the seal; it was similar enough to the old style that she could improvise, and on her second try she was able to crack the chakra lock and open the paper prison. In a puff of smoke, the pinkish, half-bare body of Shell manifested on the floor, laid out on his back and unconscious. She saw no reason for the chair, nor for the restraints. She had not come as a jailer.

Shell was visibly bruised and beaten, but ragged breaths proved he still lived. Miotosa sighed a soft relief; at least one soldier whose death had been avoided. For now; life was always 'for now.' "Shell..." she whispered, her soft voice echoing in the flat-walled chamber. It was soundproof to the outside; not even the station guard could hear the happenings. The sound of his name earned no reply, so Miotosa took a more direct approach with a set of hand signs: she sprayed a gurgle of water through the mouth-hole of her mask to splash the unconscious muscle-man's face—frigid water, at that.

He jolted awake, and his first instinct was to thrash his arms and roll into a defensive curl on his side. "Get away from me!" he bellowed, clawing at the top of his head as if to fend something off. It took him a moment—only a moment—to gather himself, though he was still trembling visibly from head to toe. He caught his breath and remembered his training—calm above all, stifle the fear, the pain, the impulses. After a moment, he looked to the robed and masked woman sharing the room with him and asked a skeptical question: "Who are you?"

"You don't remember me, but we've met before." Miotosa extended a hand down to him. "I'm Miotosa. You work for me."

Shell peered at her hand with disdain. Rather than take it, he abruptly batted it aside. "Not anymore."

Miotosa withdrew and rubbed her hand; he was strong, and the impact was sharp. "Change of heart? Don't worry, the master can repair your memories. He can remind you of who we are, and the gratitude you owe us."

Shell snarled with a grit to his teeth, and he stood up to his imposing height. He towered over the dainty Miotosa, but she did not flinch when he growled at her. "It doesn't matter what I owe you...If I ever worked for you, I quit."

"Don't be hasty," Miotosa very slowly curved her head to one side, eyes uneven while she sized him up. "I'm offering to break you out of here."

Shell shook his head frantically, raising a hand and wagging a finger at the woman. "No, never...I'm not going anywhere...I'm only safe if I'm where I'm supposed to be."

Miotosa fell silent for a moment. She watched his finger, tense and strong; his arms bulged with muscle and vein, his body a specimen of physical peak. To hear a coward's hesitation from him was unfitting. "Our master does not resent you for your failure. Actually, he doesn't know that I'm here. I've come to do you a personal favor, as thanks for your efforts."

"My failure," Shell scoffed, turning his back to her, dismissing the 'master' without hesitation. "As if it matters anymore that I failed."

Miotosa reached up to pull away her mask, dropping her hood and letting her curled white hair bounce free. She ran a hand through it, shaking her head to let it expand. "You don't belong in a prison. You're my brother in arms, a comrade who risked everything for the cause. You can go anywhere, do anything...I don't care what you do, but I won't let you rot here."

Shell assessed his surroundings, realizing where 'here' actually was. "How did you find me? This place isn't common knowledge." Shell asked. He recognized the room; when he worked for the Hokage, he had used it often. Difficult, dangerous prisoners were often brought to that place for long-term imprisonment, especially those with sensitive information to offer.

"I'm good at finding things," she answered cryptically. "All it takes is time."

Shell laughed, the depths of it bouncing off the walls. "What's your real aim, girl?" He rubbed his bald head with a calloused palm, grumbling with disorientation. "You sent me after the Hyuuga kid, but it wasn't going to stop there."

Miotosa observed him through ice-blue eyes, her pale face expressionless. Without the muffle of her mask, her voice was like a trickling stream fed by melting snow. "You want to know more? I thought you quit."

Shell huffed, then laughed again, arms crossing his chest. He was littered with old and fresh scars; bruises which hadn't yet healed, plus a misshapen wrist. It was broken still, but he did not seem to notice the pain. "I'd choose to go to hell before I'd walk out that door...you have no idea what's lurking out there. What's coming for you if you don't give up."

Miotosa felt herself seizing up in response to the tension in the man's voice. Her muscles momentarily paused with indecision. "You mean Sasuke Uchiha?" She took a pointed breath and relaxed, the initial wave passing. "We've accounted for his abilities."

Shell looked at her with a contorted grin, it was like a face that couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. His voice cracked slightly and he stomped toward her, practically pleading. "No, no, you don't get it...it doesn't matter what you do, or how you plan. You just don't know...I thought I knew, thought he couldn't surprise me. I was wrong."

Miotosa listened quietly. Her face was placid, but she could feel her heart slowing down. Freezing. "He broke you, didn't he?"

"He's gonna break you, too...and there's nothing you can do. I've never seen anything like him." Shell's cracked voice grew more distorted as he continued, escalating into something like a ranting lunatic. "Danzo's torture was a pin-prick. Agony's a soft breeze."

Miotosa shivered. Those words were coming from one of the most hardened fighters in the history of Root. He had never been frightened, never refused a dangerous task. His impeccable record of service under Danzo had been why the Lord had selected him to begin with. Miotosa was beginning to feel it, too. "I'm sorry. We...I...only wanted to help you. A prison doesn't suit you." She felt genuine remorse, which was perhaps her biggest flaw as an operative. "I won't force you to leave, but..."

Shell hunched abruptly forward, arms bent and flexed, fingers squeezing into tight fists as if trying to pull the emphasis he needed from the air. "There are no buts...It's over. You seem like a good woman; at least you're soft enough to put yourself at risk to break me out." He took two long breaths to focus. "I'm not just telling you to leave me here...I'm telling you to give it up. Stop whatever it is your lot's planning."

Miotosa shook her head, hair swaying silently. "That can't happen. The wheels are turning."

"Break the damn wheels...get out while you can." He reached a strong hand out to clasp her shoulder. His fingers were trembling. "Don't make him angry...don't let him get you..."

The hand wasn't brushed away, but blue eyes turned toward it with mild offense. "His genjutsu is strong, I know. We can handle it."

Shell's other hand fell onto the woman's opposite shoulder. He was face-to-face with her, eyes inches away from hers. His grip shook her gently, as if to instill sense into her. "It's not the genjutsu...not the tricks...you think I can't handle illusions?" His eyes were moist, beginning to well with tears of fear. Fear on her behalf? "You've never felt it...I know you haven't. If you had, you wouldn't be here. You wouldn't risk it."

"Risk...risk what?" She of a frozen heart stammered mildly.

"The Rinnegan. Five fingers on your scalp. The emptiness." He released her shoulders, and a wet tear fell down the right side of his hardened face. "Your soul in his hand. I could see it...see into the maw of the underworld. Nothing can prepare you for that. It's more than pain; more than fear. It's the absence of life."

Miotosa stepped backward from Shell, absently retreating from the concept. She repeated herself: "We can handle him."

"You can't..." Shell whispered, slumping down to the floor, his mass landing with a thud. He began clutching his face in his hands. His voice turned to a whimper, desperate and sorrowful. "You can't..."

"We'll see," Miotosa hissed firmly, reversing the signs she had used to break the seal. This man was of no use to anyone anymore, so she sealed him away. He accepted his fate, offering no resistance at all. A puff of smoke rose to replace him, and his disappearance was accompanied by one last echo: You can't...

Miotosa hurriedly wrapped the scroll again, closing the prisoner into his storage tube. She laid her mask over her face, taking some comfort in its hug. Her feet were heavier than they had been when she arrived. She was thirsty, too. Hungry. She knocked on the back of the heavy metal door, signaling to the guard on the other side that he should open up. The lock's opening made a sound that was soothing compared to Shell's traumatized babbling. She reveled in her escape from the room, slowly having come to feel as if she were the one being held prisoner.

The masked man on the other side of the door nodded his head to her with passive compliance. As the door was locked tight, he asked: "Did he tell you what you needed to know?"

"N-not exactly," she weakly answered. Was her voice shaking? Hopefully not. She held the sealed tube out to the lone guardsman, tacking on a request. "Would you lock this away for me? I'm running late."

"Late?" he pondered, nonetheless accepting the task with a steady hand.

"Mhm," she hummed, traversing the lengthy white hall with a slight hurry. Not only to escape the scent of fear that hung in the air, but for a more mundane reason: "I have a date."


Hinata's eyes opened drearily, and the first thing she saw was a fuzzy field of green. She blinked hard to clear her sight, and the field came into focus as a sheet of grass just inches from her face. She yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand and rolling over to her opposite side. She saw black fabric and a gloved hand, and she followed the arm it was attached to until she found Sasuke's head up near his shoulder. He was still awake, and he was faintly smiling down at her. She stretched, groaned, and opened her mouth to speak—but she yawned again. Her hand rose to check that her flower was still tied into her hair, and sighed gratefully when it was.

"Hanabi told me to let you sleep," Sasuke softly told her. "Then she passed out." He looked over his opposite shoulder. Hanabi was asleep where she had been sitting, practically drooling out of one side of her mouth.

Hinata giggled softly when she noticed her sister. Her right hand lifted to Sasuke's shoulder, clutching gently and using him as leverage to pick herself up from the grass. "Nngh, how long was I sleeping?" She noticed that the sun had gone down, then she remembered: "The dance is at ten! We can't miss it!"

Sasuke nodded reassuringly. "I was about to wake you. It's around nine."

"Oh, good. Did you sleep any?" Hinata asked him while she rubbed her eyes.

"No, I've been watching." He looked serious. His brows were stiff, eyes unwavering as he analyzed the masses on the well-walked path.

Hinata frowned, gathering her legs under herself, sitting on her knees and resting her rear on her heels. "Thank you," she expressed warmly. She adjusted the sleeves of her thin jacket, freeing her hands. One last yawn to wake up completely. "I needed that," she confessed. "I don't think I'd have been able to make it to the fireworks without a nap."

Sasuke leaned forward, picking himself up from his casual lean against the tree. He reached behind his back to dust some of the tiny splinters off the back of his vest. Hinata's hand joined his, brushing away the bits she could find. Sasuke nodded with subtle gratitude, then stood up. "Should we wake her?" he asked about the younger sister.

Hinata nodded. "Here, let me." She crawled on her knees to round the tree, coming up on Hanabi's right side to shake her shoulder gently. "Hey, it's getting late."

Hanabi opened one eye at a time, then protested with a huff. "I'm tired," she mumbled, locking both eyes shut. "Lemme sleep."

Smiling softly, Hinata was tempted to let Hanabi rest. Deciding it was best not to let her oversleep, Hinata shook her shoulder a little harder. "You're going to miss the dance, Hanabi."

The heiress popped both eyes open with a start, springing to her feet and glancing left and right. The stars had come out overhead, twinkling with their eternal patience. "It's night!? I swear I only closed my eyes for a second!" She glared at Sasuke. "Why'd you let me fall asleep? Now we have to hurry!"

Hinata blinked with a puzzled look on her face. "Why do we have to hurry? There's still an hour left."

Hanabi put her palm to her own forehead with a smack. "An hour isn't enough! C'mon, Hinata, we need to get you changed!" She was clutching her elder sister's hand, trying to pick her up from the grass, met with mild resistance as the latter tried to stand on half-sleeping legs.

Sasuke watched with indifference on his face, but he felt a warmth as their sisterly bond opened up in front of him. "You two do what you need to do," he said uselessly from the side. Hanabi was already consulting the map, pushing Hinata toward one of the temporary changing rooms dotting the festival grounds for just such an occasion.

"I'll see you at the dance, Sasuke!" Hinata meekly 'yelled' over her shoulder, barely audible in her embarrassed hush. "Meet me by the east entrance!"

"Yeah...see you there," Sasuke answered quietly. As the siblings left him, he heaved a personal sigh, slumping over slightly and putting his hands on his knees. He was 'alone' again. Although he cherished Hinata's company, he had spent most of his life on his own. A part of him was glad to have a breather, accepting the chance to collect his thoughts. The dance was the big question mark of the evening—not only did he have no idea how to dance, but it was going to be the defining moment of their association with one another.

He had been pushing it off, trying to ignore the urge to speak without thinking. There were a hundred times off the top of his head that he could recall wanting to tell her the truth, but he always stopped himself. Similarly, even if he didn't say it, he dreaded that she would say it. Their companionship had worked just fine over the past months without dramatic changes, and it stood on a foundation of ambiguity. What were they? A master and a student? No; more. Friends? Sure, but that wasn't all.

Sasuke ran his right hand through his hair, coursing a current of low-level lightning through his fingers to add heat. Though Ino's provided haircut was essentially flawless, the wind and hot sun had taken their toll, so some maintenance was required. He checked his clothes for lingering dirt or grass, patting himself down with his left hand. Satisfied with his efforts, he tucked his hands into his pockets and started off to the east.


Hanabi practically shoved Hinata into the the sturdy wooden changing booth, closing the door at her back. "Alright, where's your dress?"

Hinata set her hand on the bag hanging off her shoulder, but before she could even say it, the bag was taken off her shoulder by quick little hands. The zipper was run down the line, and a few non-essential belongings were tossed to the nearby bench.

"Quick, quick, quick!" Hanabi urged, busily unwrapping Hinata's chosen dress from its secure place in the bag. There was a moment of pause for deliberation, then the teen grinned when she understood the selection. "Oooh, you've got a sense of romance after all."

Hinata looked aside, watching herself blush in the mirror that was mounted on the wall. "I can change by myself," she passively muttered.

"Sure, but I'm gonna help with your makeup," Hanabi pushed the dress into Hinata's hands. "Set that someplace safe, I'm gonna pick the right tones out."

"Right tones...?" Hinata meekly wondered while she set her garment on a short wooden table. The changing booths weren't terribly big, but they had enough room for two people with a few clean places to set things down. Somebody had designed the small shacks with comfort in mind. "What's wrong with the way I look now?"

"Augh...sis, we talked about this already. You wanna knock him so hard off his feet that you'll have to carry him home!" Hanabi dug through her own sack this time, drudging up the only prize she had specifically aimed for—a deluxe kit of lipstick, blush, mascara, and more. Some of it had already been used when she fixed her face after her time with Nissho, but that went unnoticed. "We've gotta line the colors up to your dress. It's called 'cohesion,' and it's super important."

As awkward as it was to share the changing room, Hinata was glad to have Hanabi in her corner. For a time, she had been worried that her sister would try to sabotage her like a schoolgirl with a competing crush. Coming to terms with the shared space, Hinata unzipped her jacket and shrugged it off, folding it beside her bag. "So you'll pick the same color as the dress?"

Hanabi shook her head 'no,' biting the middle knuckle of her left pointer finger. "Well, not exactly the same. That'd be tacky. You match the hue, but not the shade." Hanabi looked to Hinata; without the jacket, Hinata's sleeveless tank revealed her shoulders. Hanabi took that to heart and tapped her own chin. "You've got really pale skin, so I'd go with...hmm..." She searched over her supply of lipsticks. "Dark for the lips, light for the eyes..." She pulled up a small assortment of colors that fell in line with the theme.

Hinata blushed harder. Normally she didn't care much for heavy makeup, but she had been indecisive on her own. For that night, during that crucial moment when the worst thing imaginable was that she screwed something up, she was grateful to let her sister handle the complicated thinking. "I'm trusting you," Hinata acquiesced, sitting herself down on the short bench while filling her lungs with a preparatory breath.

"You won't regret it!" Hanabi belted with a smirk, showing one canine with sassy confidence.

"Shouldn't you change, too?" Hinata asked after closing her eyes, giving silent permission for Hanabi to begin.

The question was inevitable, but still caught Hanabi off balance. She didn't have an answer prepared. I can't change in front of you because you'll see my fresh bruises, she could have confessed. But confession would defeat the purpose of keeping secrets. She pumped out a convincing enough excuse: "Nah, I don't have anybody to impress. This is fine for a dance." She noted her look; it was simple. More for daytime than evening, but a good fit with a pleasing floral pattern around the skirt. Its pale orange coloration also went well with her white bandages, selling her illusion that she was wearing them for fashion rather than concealment. That claim wouldn't hold up under scrutiny, especially involving a Byakugan, so she worked to bypass suspicion by making it look good.

"You'd pass up the chance to impress a soulmate?" Hinata asked with a playful warble. "That's not like you."

Hanabi didn't gulp, but she could have. Her throat felt tense. She laughed it off, relying on Hinata's jittery nerves to supply some extra cover. "I've got a mission tonight, that's what it is. I can't waste time on myself when my big sister's got the opportunity of a lifetime in front of her."

"I wonder what Sasuke would say if he heard you calling him the opportunity of a lifetime," Hinata mused wistfully. Would he play it cool, like he usually did? Or would he blush the way he did when they were alone and in secret?

"He'd probably just grumble and wave me off," Hanabi wryly answered, beginning to apply Hinata's makeup with real effort. Despite what happened, she wasn't resentful of Hinata. Not the person, not her real sibling—she was indeed jealous and angry, but it was toward some hypothetical, future version of Hinata; one who had already stolen everything from her. When it came to the actual flesh and blood of her sister, Hanabi loved Hinata to pieces. "He doesn't like being complimented," Hanabi theorized.

"He'd rather be invisible." Hinata summarized the multi-layered matter in the simplest way she could.

"He's gonna be," Hanabi teased, "because everybody will be looking at you, not him." She finished the eye shadow. Twas a faint application, only enough to add mystique.

"I'd rather be invisible too," Hinata added with nervousness. Her face was riddled with thin lines of concern, which Hanabi promptly applied some coverage to.

"Not tonight. Tonight, you need to be the belle of the ball." Hanabi wasn't an expert with makeup, but she had learned a lot of things by reading. Some of it came from books she had been allowed to have, but there were also some which she most certainly hadn't been. "You've got to turn heads, get people talking—Sasuke's gonna be so protective and jealous that he's gonna beg you to be his one and only."

Hinata blushed, imagining it like a scene from a stage-play. Sasuke on his knee, kissing the back of her hand, declaring his undying love and loyalty. She dismissed it as absurd, but the essence of it remained in the back of her head. "I don't want to make him jealous," she said. "I want him to be..."

"Be what?" Hanabi zeroed in on the thought.

"Just...sure." Hinata tried to convey it as little more than an incomplete ramble. "I don't know."

"You can tell me. I won't say it to anybody else. What do you want him to be sure of?" Hanabi was being her nosy self.

"Sure that...he belongs." Hinata's voice went soft, softer even than usual.

"You mean that he belongs in the village, or...?" Hanabi pressed onward, squeezing as much juice as she could from the moment.

"I don't want him to worry," Hinata sidestepped the question. "I want him to feel safe."

"I think he's plenty safe," Hanabi whistled slightly. "Can you think of anybody who can hurt him?"

Hinata pursed her lips, which interfered briefly with Hanabi's application of lipstick. "That's not how I mean it." She sighed through her nose. "I don't want him to be jealous, and I don't want other people looking at me..." She shyly began to rub her knees with her palms. "Sasuke's been hurt like I have, so I want him to know for sure that..." The butterflies came back to her stomach. "That he doesn't have to get hurt again. He needs to know that I..." She trembled saying the words out loud. "...that I'm already his, and only his, and he doesn't have to worry."

Hanabi's mouth hung open slightly, and she blushed by proxy. "Wow, that's freaking romantic. You could just say that to him, you know."

Under the makeup, Hinata's cheeks were flooded with red tint. "I can't just say it to him! I'd be too embarrassed. I could barely say it to you, and you already knew!"

"Just be natural, I think he already knows you're head-over-heels for him," Hanabi helpfully observed, making Hinata all the more flustered. "You're sure he feels the same?" Even if Hinata wasn't, Hanabi was pretty sure of it.

"I hope so..." Hinata mumbled, tempering her expectations. She had gotten caught up in Hanabi's hype, and might have convinced herself prematurely. "How do I find out?"

Hanabi picked up a brush to even out Hinata's hair, catching the stray blades of grass that had been tucked in the thick layers of the blue-black sea. "I get the feeling you'll know one way or the other by the time the fireworks are over. Don't be nervous, just follow your heart!" Hanabi put her hand on her own chest, covering her heart. "Even if your head's telling you something different, listen to your heart. Promise me you'll only obey your heart, even if it's just for tonight."

Hinata nodded her head slowly, already taking the advice. "I promise," she agreed unequivocally. There it was. She had made a promise. It wasn't in her nature to break a promise, so from there on she was locked into her course. No more excuses, no rationalizing—tonight was a night for the heart, for better or worse. She had been hiding her feelings for a long time, or at least trying to hide them. Not this time.

Around the time of Hinata's promise, Hanabi had finished applying the new layer of makeup. "Aaaaaand done. Get into that dress, I'll zip you up."

Hinata looked in the mirror, and she was timidly impressed. "I...I look..."

"Gorgeous, as promised." Hanabi clapped her hands together. "Hurry, though! We don't have time to dawdle."

"We still have more than a half hour, right?" Hinata asked while finishing her transition from day clothes to evening knockout, pulling the neck of her gown together and closing the buttons.

"Yeah, but you need time to make your entrance. We both know you're gonna spend like twenty minutes fretting around the corner before you work up the nerve to show yourself." Hanabi winked, amused by her own snark.

"I...you're probably right," Hinata said through a guilty smile. "This is a big moment for me."

Hanabi helped Hinata zip the dress in the back, patting her sister between the shoulder blades. "Big for both of us, just don't screw it up by thinking too hard."

Hinata nodded, putting on the focused war-face she had memorized while training with Sasuke. "Right. Follow my heart." She was already starting to get cold feet, but her sister's encouragement gave her the confidence to move forward. Tonight was the night, for better or worse. No more hesitation, no more excuses. No more nothing. Tonight. Is. The. Night. She told herself ten times, pausing in her thoughts for emphasis after each word. She locked eyes with Hanabi, nodding. "Thanks, Hanabi. You've been a big help. I really think I'd be lost without you."

Hanabi felt a sudden welling up of guilt. Roiling, uncontrollable. She had only just begun to process the possible consequences of the afternoon. There was no turning back; her decision had been made. Still, the queasiness in her stomach turned into tears in the corners of her eyes. She sniffled, wiped her nose, and whimpered an answer: "It's nothing, I'm just happy to be here for you." She pulled a quivering breath through her nose, and she stepped in to throw her arms around Hinata's midsection. She hugged her sister from the side, rubbing her cheek against a pale, sleeveless arm. "...I love you."

Hinata felt tears forming in her ducts, and the wetness puddled against her lower lids. "I love you, too," she said shakily. A tear fell from her left eye, taking a little bit of her fresh makeup with it. She sniffled, but then she tried to laugh the tears away. "You made me cry," she quivered, fighting back another drop.

Hanabi swallowed a storm of uncertainty, saving her regret for another day. Come what may, she owed Hinata her best for tonight. "I'm sorry, I just..." She righted herself with a slow, meditative breath. "C'mere, let me fix that."

Hinata nodded, making sure that her cry spell had passed by squeezing her lids tightly shut. She smiled and reached her thumb out to touch Hanabi's face gently, tracing the path of one of her tears. She wordlessly picked up a cloth and began to wipe her younger sister's face, drying her skin to prepare it for a touch-up. She took it upon herself to return Hanabi's favor.

Quiet with focus, the sisters worked to mutually repair one another's surface imperfections.


What's this? Two chapters in one week? It's sorcery, I tell you. Actually, I just happened to have some time off, and what better way to spend it than by writing? I hope you all liked this chapter (and the previous one). Let me know with a review, or if you prefer to send a private message, you can do that instead! Or both! I never get tired of receiving reviews and other messages, so keep them coming. Your support means worlds to me.

The infamous dance begins next chapter. I hope you're all prepared for it.

Edit: Just wanted to thank EunoiaWrites for pointing out that I accidentally called Kakashi the Seventh Hokage; he is in fact the Sixth. If you can see this note, the error has been corrected.