Hiruzen woke to a light flowery fragrance: a delicate, feminine scent. When he rolled over, he realized his nose had been right beneath Biwako's long chestnut hair. What he caught in the air was the smell of her shampoo. "Hey there, Hokage," she whispered at him teasingly. She moved her right hand to poke his nose.

"How long were you awake?"

"Don't worry," she replied, snuggling closer. "It's only been about five minutes. I figured you needed every minute of rest your body would allow."

Hiruzen fought back a snicker. "Not beauty sleep, Biwako?"

She rolled her dark eyes at that, as well as the rest of her body. When she did so, more of the covers moved. Her shoulders and collarbone were bare and visible to him, along with the matching faint pink love bites on either side of her neck. If he craned his neck even a little more, he'd be able to see the beginning of her small, girlish cleavage. "Naaaaah," she joked. "You're already the prettiest princess in Konoha."

For that, she braced herself, knowing he was going to roll over again and tickle her sides. Once she felt the fingers by her ribs, her legs began to flail about in abandon. Her laughs were loud enough that were anyone downstairs, they'd hear her. She was half sure Hiruzen's neighbors heard her squeals.

It all happened so quickly. Danzō blew his chance with her. Then the incident with Morirama happened. While Biwako felt bad that one of his first major decisions ended in the death of somebody so important, she saw for herself how badly the death had impacted Hiruzen. She'd been a shoulder to cry on at first: giving him a place to bare all his sadness and sorrow before someone he trusted.

Biwako had always wanted an honest partner: one who could tell her anything and be there to listen to her as well when an open ear and open heart were needed. It hadn't taken long for her to realize that Hiruzen was exactly that.

Neither one of them planned for this to happen, especially nowhere near as quickly. They'd moved toward each other like magnets: realizing that once they clashed, this was what they'd always wanted. Hiruzen would have a best friend by his side who didn't hold his position as Hokage against him. Biwako could have a man in her life who wasn't afraid to bare his heart to her. They already had that connection long before the relationship turned to love.

But within only a couple of weeks of a breakup: was that too soon? "Have you told Danzō yet? It's cruel, almost. This has been going on since the memorial service..."

"I haven't brought it up." And Hiruzen would continue to feel like garbage until he confronted Danzō about this like a man. "I'm not even sure I know how to. What do I say: that I'm dating his ex and I'm serious about it? Biwako…"

She tapped his leg, offering him a friendlier smile than the multitude of forced and fake ones his teammates offered. "It won't break into a fight," she reassured him. "I'm sure he'll be sad when you tell him; but Danzō has more grace and dignity than you give him credit for."

But Hiruzen didn't see it that way. All he could imagine was a shouting match complete with Danzō's furious, shaky fists reaching for his shirt collar and dragging him closer: livid, outraged, unforgiving…

"Besides…" Biwako sat upright, reaching for Hiruzen's pipe so she could smoke a little. She turned around to face him: looking so lovely in that early morning light. To be a tease, she blew a smoke ring. "I wasn't that important to him."

No. Just because Danzō kept Biwako at arm's length, that didn't necessarily mean she was unimportant to him. Danzō seldom confided in anyone; even a best friend or romantic partner. After the breakup, he'd seemed more melancholic than usual. Maybe Biwako didn't realize the impact she had, but Hiruzen did. It's why he'd dodged this for so long.

"Even so, the thought of hurting him…" Hiruzen sighed and reached for the pipe. Biwako handed it over without any argument. "I need to find a way to broach the subject without invoking his wrath. I was thinking about handling this logically."

"What do you mean?"

"It makes sense that I'd want to marry within my own clan," Hiruzen began. "If I fancied a woman in another clan enough to marry her—or worse: I chose somebody foreign—what would stop that clan from thinking they could get preferential treatment over the others? They'd suddenly have a Hokage son-in-law. And even if I stayed neutral on matters of state with them, the other clans wouldn't see it that way, would they?"

Biwako's cute little smile turned into a flat line, but she let him continue.

"The most controversial thing Morirama did was marry a Yamanaka. I'm a little surprised Hasu's clan didn't try to endorse him. All I can figure is Lord Osamu learned his lesson about dabbling in politics last time."

"Or maybe he remembered that having a Sarutobi in the seat was just as good as having a Yamanaka," Biwako countered. "Or an Akimichi or Nara, for that matter. Our four clans are close and always have been."

"But could you imagine what would have happened if I'd married a Yamanaka?" Hiruzen took another drag of the pipe. "I'd never hear the end of it from Osamu, Shikaru, or Chōmei. And that's nothing compared to the rest of the village! My only safe move is to keep it in the clan. And out of the Sarutobi girls, ha…well, you're certainly the best by a long shot. I wouldn't consider anyone else."

"All Danzō's going to hear from that is that you're marrying me out of necessity rather than what this actually is. You do love me, don't you?"

"Of course I do! And I'm going to do all I can to keep you happy and spoil you rotten!" Hiruzen handed the pipe back to her, but Biwako held up a hand to indicate she'd rather not. Instead, she got up and reached to dress herself. Hiruzen helped her tie the back of her dress and heard a small thanks leave her lips. "Would you rather I just told him the truth: that we simply ended up falling for each other?"

"I don't care how you broach the subject," Biwako grumbled, "but you need to do it before he leaves. Imagine what would happen if you chicken out and he finds out we're married by the time he gets back?"

"Oh god…" And as awful a friend as it made him feel for thinking it, Hiruzen couldn't help but believe the wedding would be a far more joyous occasion without Danzō there. "I haven't even held onto this position for a month, but I've already lost too many people. I can't stand to lose him, too."

"Well…" Biwako wrapped her arms around his shoulders, giving the scruff on his chin a kiss. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?"

"Hell yeah, I promise!" She beamed. "I plan on sticking around to nag your charming ass until you retire. But do be careful with Danzō, would you? He's a more delicate flower than he lets on. It only takes one cruel move to burn a bridge forever."

…

It was the warmest part of the day: near noon. The sun sat high atop the sky and cast its beams upon its subjects in maximum brightness. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, save for the waves of pollen coming from the nearby trees. Almost everything outside Kagami's home had the faint gold brush of plant pollen upon it, causing his wife's allergies to go into overdrive. Her lips were chapped from using her mouth to breathe exclusively.

Though as much as Kagami's wife hated the spring, Torifu typically liked it. It was like Hiruzen said in his inaugural speech: all the dead things came back to life. 'Not this time,' the Akimichi thought, glancing down at one of the few non-combat items he'd packed in his bag for the retrieval mission. There, remaining in his hand, was a rose pink handkerchief that still smelled like his wife's perfume.

He'd sat on the porch for nearly an hour as his Uchiha teammate scrambled to pack for the mission. In Torifu's opinion, he could have done this alone. If he died out there by himself, the only people who would mourn him would be his mother, Kagami, a couple of friends, and perhaps his clan head. His line was going to end, anyway, seeing as he had no plans to remarry. Who better to send for bullshit like this than a man with nothing left to lose?

Kagami still had a wife who loved him and two wonderful daughters. The baby on the way was a boy, according to the Hyūga physician who last checked the pregnancy. At long last, he'd have his son. Going on this mission meant he'd probably miss the birth.

'If anyone else has to go, let it be someone like Danzō,' Torifu thought. 'This is more suited for somebody without a wife and kids waiting for him at home.' The rushed, awkward pattering of Kagami's feet on the dark wood floor made the Akimichi man turn around. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Kind of," Kagami confessed, though his cheeks were a tad pink from frustration. "I just need a few more minutes. Something's wrong with my bag."

Torifu raised an eyebrow, wondering what Kagami meant, but silently nodded. He understood. There wasn't too much of a rush for this mission, seeing as the person they were retrieving was already deceased.

Kagami first noticed something was amiss when he reached for a kunai and instead of being able to open a box, the blade curled. Upon further inspection, the weapons were dull instead of glossy and no light reflected off them. Curious, he squeezed the handle, only to realize what was going on when the weapon squished, then bounced back into place. Once he realized what was amiss, he grumbled a few choice profanities.

"What's the matter?"

Kagami moved closer and offered the kunai to Torifu. "Azami swapped my weapons for her toys."

"How do you know it was Azami?"

"I'm her father. I just know." Azami was five years old: his firstborn and definitely the craftier of his two daughters.

His little one, Kaede, had already followed him from room to room, dragging her giant stuffed rabbit with her. The plush toy's legs were now covered in dust and pollen from being used as a makeshift broom across the floor. Every once in a while, Kagami asked her if she wanted to come closer and give him a goodbye kiss. Kaede then tottered off and disappeared…at least until Kagami made it to the next room. Then she'd come back and stare at him again.

Azami, though? Azami had voiced her displeasure over this mission so loudly that she spent most of yesterday evening in time out. "She's not taking this very well. She's convinced she'll end up like Tsunade if I take this mission."

"That's a valid fear, Kagami. She could," Torifu warned. "I don't think the Hidden Cloud will give up Morirama's corpse so easily. If I die out there, the only people who are going to mourn me are friends and extended family. Amai's dead and I don't have any children. You have a lovely wife, two adorable little girls, and a third baby on the way. A son, no less! You should re—"

"I'm still going, okay? You can't talk me out of this!" Kagami patted his friend's knee as they continued sitting on the porch. "And Azami won't be successful in making me stay, either. She'll get over it." Although the words came out so easily, Kagami didn't fully believe them. That little girl could hold a grudge better than most adults he knew; Danzō included.

"May I interrupt?" Kagami's wife came to the porch with a small bag in her arms. "I heard you two, and…" She sounded so weak: so resigned to the fact no sweet words would convince her husband to abandon the mission. "Here." She held out his fully packed weapons bag. "I checked them myself. They're the real thing and everything's accounted for. I also added a first aid kit for good measure. Just promise me something?"

"I promise," Kagami vowed. "I'll come home."

"Don't worry about him," Torifu called out. "I'm more interested in keeping Kagami safe than I am in finding what's left of Morirama."

"You two…" His face was red. "You make it sound like I can't do anything on my own." He pulled the toy weapon kit out of his bag and reached for the real kit. For a moment, his hand touched his wife's.

Hiruzen bought the toys for Kagami's daughters as a Rinne Festival gift. It felt like an eternity ago, even though only four months had passed. The Nidaime was still alive. Team Tobirama still lorded themselves around as the lucky squad with the best mentor. The only crime Danzō was guilty of was an occasional bout of behaving like an asshole. Even then, it was never so bad that his team refused to forgive him.

Now, here they were. Within Hiruzen's first month in charge, the Nidaime's nephew was dead, the Shodaime's only grandchild lost her father, and Torifu was doomed to spend the rest of his days as a mourning widower. It felt less like reality and more like a bad dream.

Kagami wished the world would slow down, if only a little. That would give him a chance to breathe and figure out what to do next, but that didn't happen. The storm kept coming: striking down the innocent and destroying their fortitude. And there, sniffling behind her mother, was his firstborn. "Azami…"

Azami's lip began to quiver, so she bit it in the hopes of holding it in place. "You…figured it out?"

"Of course I did—and it's a good thing that I did. What if I made it all the way to the battlefield with these?"

"I thought…" The five-year-old still refused to look him in the eye, so she glanced out the window. "I thought you'd figure out by the gate or something. Then you'd change your mind and come back."

"Do you at least understand why I have to go?" To him, it was important that she understand the reason behind the mission. Azami was his eldest. She'd have to be a big girl for her mother and her little sister, not to mention the baby. That baby could be born any day now.

But all she did was shake her head. "Don't," she pleaded. "Just stay. Someone else can go. Torifu-oji's strong. He doesn't need—"

'Was it this hard for Morirama to leave his baby girl behind?' Azami wasn't able to hide her tears, but Kagami could. Even in front of his wife, best friend, and child, he could hold it in. "You're wrong, love. He does need me. I'm gonna watch his back and make sure he comes home. And don't worry, alright? He'll do the same for me. You heard him promise your mother that."

But pretty words weren't what Uchiha Azami wished to hear. She just wanted her father to stay; fate of the village be damned. Some things simply didn't make sense to small children. "You don't have to go!" she insisted. "You can choose to stay if you want! He'll…he'll be…"

His wife sighed. "You should probably leave now. I'll hold her."

But the pleas turned into full sobs as the girl's face turned red and puffy from all the tears. She reached desperately, screaming and begging him not to go. "IT'S NOT FAIR!" she bawled. "YOU LOVE OJI-SAN MORE THAN YOU LOVE US!"

"No, he doesn't."

Everyone turned around to see the final member of the retrieval party had arrived. Since his argument with Kagami at the memorial service, Danzō said very little to either of his teammates. Despite that, here he stood in his battle garb: ready to leave. "Your father loves you very much, but he has to think about the village first and foremost."

Azami stared at him as if he'd uttered a blasphemy. She reached in her pocket for a shuriken and threw it with surprisingly good aim. Torifu caught it, realizing a bit too late that while Kagami had the toys, Azami managed to get her hands on the real deal.

…

Perhaps the world was ready to move on, but a grieving mother never could. Every morning, Mito vowed to wake up at the crack of dawn, replace the offerings at the family shrine, and burn her incense until the whole of her home smelled the way it did when it wasn't full of hungry ghosts.

If it smelled familiar, then maybe she could call Morirama's spirit home. If he couldn't be given proper funeral rites and his body put to rest, then at least he could haunt her. Maybe then she'd feel a little less lonely. With a spirit inside herself already, Mito could serve as a vessel for her son's unfinished life.

Her entire existence felt empty, save for her granddaughter. In a few more months, Hasu would bring the second grandchild into the world. Maybe then she'd have another prince to shower with love and attention, but this had almost been the final blow to Mito's fortitude. It didn't feel fair, knowing she'd live long enough to hold Morirama's son when he'd never see that baby: not through any eyes other than a ghost's eyes.

But through her, he could still see his children grow. He would see what kind of a son he and Hasu brought into this world. And if Mito could will herself to live this long, Morirama would see one of his children take the Hokage seat.

She'd tried to take it when Hashirama died, only to be brought down by her own brother-in-law. Morirama tried to go for the seat, but conceded his loss like a gentleman. But within a year's time, Hiruzen would be training Tsunade. If this passed from teacher to student someday, then maybe…maybe…

'But that's not as important as Tsunade's happiness. I need to do all I can to ensure she's safe and happy.' Even as Hasu fell into a deep depression and couldn't be coaxed out of bed. Even when the Yamanaka Clan made matters far from easy for the poor dear…

Morirama's photo stood just left of the center of the mantelpiece: adjacent to his father in the family shrine. 'I'll find a way to send you home,' Mito thought, giving her son's photo a kiss on the cheek. 'I don't know how, but—'

The reverie would have continued indefinitely, had Biwako not sneezed and startled Mito. The Uzumaki woman's heart fluttered in surprise. "Sorry, sensei! Should I come back later?"

"It's alright, Biwako," Mito insisted. "I was just leaving an offering and trying to appease my son's wandering spirit." He'd remain trapped between this world and the next: unable to let his troubles go. Whether he decided to fade into nothing or come back as someone (or something) else, he couldn't do it if the Hidden Cloud continued to dissect and study him like a laboratory specimen.

And as much respect as she carried for the Sarutobi Clan, Mito felt as though Hiruzen had failed her by agreeing to let her son go on that mission. Everyone died. There were no survivors. Was there something malicious going on, or was he just incompetent: too young and inexperienced to effectively rule?

"Does that actually work?" Biwako seemed skeptical. "Burning incense and leaving food for ghosts?"

"I don't know." Mito put out one of the burners and fanned the fragrant air through the room with a fan. "But it makes me feel like less of a failure to my children. There's that, at least." She gestured toward all three photographs, plus her late husband's. "It's the only way I can still talk to them."

"Do they ever talk back?" And for this, all the redhead could do was slowly shake her head. "Mito-sensei, I can come back later."

"Why?" Mito gestured for Biwako to take a seat across from her in the parlor. "You already made the trip here. We may as well talk. What's on your mind, Biwako?"

They'd had such a warm relationship throughout Biwako's girlhood and adolescence. Now, as a young adult, she was starting to fear that this warmness had turned glacial. Mito kept her at a distance. "Firstly, I wanted to tell you that Hiruzen's agreed to send a squad to bring your son's body home for a proper burial. Danzō's team volunteered for the mission. I'm really sorry for your loss, and I know that nobody in Konoha could bring Morirama back to life, but maybe—"

Mito's eyes narrowed. It felt like too little too late. Tobirama had seen this side of her countless times as he turned friend after friend against her: driving her deeper and deeper into social exile. Maybe she'd been wrong; maybe Hiruzen was more Tobirama's student than Hashirama's after all. "You're taking his side, then? I shouldn't be too surprised, seeing as you're going to marry him."

"I was going to tell you. It's why I—"

"Considering how much of a lover your future husband is, children are inevitable…whether they're yours or not. My greatest prayer for you, my dear, is that neither you nor Hiruzen outlive them." Mito knew her words had pierced her pupil's heart, judging from how pale Biwako's skin turned. Good. These were ugly truths she would need to hear as someone about to marry a Hokage. "And you're wrong about something. There was once a person who could have brought my son back."

Not that Mito would ever wish for it. By this point, Tobirama was so badly decomposed that even if she were to bribe Hasu to read his brain and glean whatever jutsu she could from his memories, she'd get nothing. The brain was one of the first things to rot. And how long would it be before her son's brain did the same? Why did such horrible thoughts keep coming back to her?

"Sensei…" Biwako bit her lip. "I didn't mean to upset you with this. I thought you'd feel some relief in knowing Hiruzen won't stand for letting your son stay with the Hidden Cloud. He deserves to be put to rest."

"He deserved to live," Mito growled, nails scratching the sleek finish of her chair until the pale phylum became apparent. Just as she'd felt the pangs of the kyūbi within her before, she felt it again. The energy caused her stomach to twist into knots: eating away at her sanity and ability to control it. One part of her was tempted to break the seal on purpose and destroy everything. Had the grandchildren died, too, she certainly would have. "But you had nothing to do with that. I'm taking my anger out on the wrong person, aren't I? Forgive me."

Biwako bowed to indicate she understood and forgave her teacher, but it wasn't so simple. What she heard was more than just a mother's grief. 'Hiruzen said Morirama's death was a result of choosing the wrong village based off limited intel. He made an honest mistake, and it wasn't like he went on his own. The fact Danzō's team, the best team Hiruzen can send, is going to collect the body means he thought highly of sensei's son.'

"Sensei? You don't blame Hiruzen for this, do you?" For a brief moment, Biwako saw a flash of something hateful and feral in Mito's rust-colored eyes: something that could barely be classified as human. It flickered away as quickly as it came and Mito's expression softened, albeit in a sad, defeated way.

"No. Sometimes, these things happen. I understand that." Mito placed a hand to her face and sighed. "I've been left alone with my thoughts as I grieve, with only the thing inside me to talk to. The things it says, Biwako dear. You'd start to wonder, too."