In the corner of Chiyo's apartment was a wooden training dummy that sat in the corner of the living room, collecting dust. Deidara had not been home for a while now, so the dummy remained unused for the meantime.

Chiyo barely glanced at it before she put up a poster detailing what to do in the case of an air raid on the wall, smoothing it out against the surface. It was mostly common sense, such as hunkering down in your local bunker, but the movement into the age of planes and other sorts of infernal war machines had led to Konoha moving a portion of their budget into producing these sorts of instructions.

There hadn't been any sort of thing in the past wars Chiyo had lived through.

Even for a veteran like her, she wasn't entirely sure what to expect in this most recent, deadlier war, and that left an unsettling feeling in her stomach.

The hallway outside her apartment smelled like stale cabbage, and she grimaced and pinched her nose as she adjusted her hat with her other hand, the handle of her purse tucked in the crook of her elbow. Feeling pretty today, she had a small flower tucked into the ribbon of her otherwise plain-looking head-wear.

When she arrived at her local community center, some familiar faces were already there. Morbid approval surged through her when she spotted Hanabi and Moegi sitting in seiza and talking quietly as they waited for the military police officer to arrive.

"Chiyo-baa-sama," Hanabi greeted politely, and Chiyo lifted a hand in greeting before sitting elsewhere with people who were more in her age range. Among them were the old man who ran a fried chicken shop and his wife and son (who had brought along his wife and son), Irihata Mina—a woman in her seventies who ran the tai chi club a few blocks away—and some of the ladies from her club (most of them middle-aged or as old as Irihata herself), and a lonely, childless widower who Chiyo did not know the name of. All of them were people she had just seen in passing. Most of her social circle (which largely consisted of the ladies from mahjong) did not concern themselves with the war-related activities on the home front, all of them quite content with the city's defenses and unconcerned with what was happening outside the walls.

The old widower motioned to the board as he spoke to Irihata, "I suspect we are getting an update on new air raid shelters today."

"Oh, wonderful," Chiyo muttered to herself. "So the poster they gave us last week is already outdated." I'm guessing Shizune must have something to do with this. She knew something had went down between the Hyuuga sisters are Tsunade's black-haired student, and that said black-haired student had said something to the Hokage to convince her to put more effort into organization of the home front. The vaguely triumphant look on Hanabi's features told her all she needed to know. Despite her young age, Hyuuga Hanabi was not to be underestimated, and if she had recruited the help of Moegi, then neither was the older girl. Not to mention that both of them had survived the perilous journey to Konoha. They were kids, she thought absently, they bounced back quickly and weren't worn down as easily as the more world-weary adults.

The widower's hunch proved to be correct—when the military police officer arrived, accompanied by an ANBU soldier that was stationed in Konoha, they immediately went into discussing how new air raid shelters had been newly implemented.

As the hour wore on, Chiyo's apprehension grew when the leading officers of this meeting curtly announced new intelligence—that the enemy were in possession of chakra bombs that were designed to be more deadly and have wider range than their predecessors. How Deidara's eyes would widen in awe, Chiyo knew, if the blonde were here. She was scheduled to arrive today, but would not be back until later in the day.

When the meeting finally let out, Chiyo let out a sigh, lifting one hand to adjust her hat, which had become askew at some point.

As the old woman left to complete whatever business she had for the rest of the day, Hanabi and Moegi converged at a nearby food stall, both of them using their refugee stipend to purchase a stick of dango for each. Unlike Itachi, who had possessed his own fortune independent of the Uchiha family's back in Akatsuki was able to access it in Konoha, Hanabi and Hinata were not so lucky, having to slum it out like the rest of them.

"Well?" Moegi prompted after swallowing a pink dango.

Hanabi chewed on her lip. "This city is humongous. Even with one hundred air raid shelters, I'm not sure if they'll be accessible to everyone. Not to mention evacuation routes and drills. The Hokage is too focused defending what's outside instead of what's inside. I need to talk to Shizune-san again—"

"But what if they're doing the smart thing?" When Hanabi raised an eyebrow at the question, Moegi elaborated, "You saw what was out there. Maybe they're doing the smart thing by prioritizing the monsters and the enemy. We still don't know where those things came from. What if the enemy made them?"

"But they attacked Tsuki soldiers, too!"

Moegi shrugged. "It was just a thought. Geez."

Hanabi sighed. "Whatever. I'm going to meet my sister at the school. She's helping out with evacuation drills and procedures. At least one place is being productive."

"I'll go with you. I wanna see how Udon and Konohamaru are doing. Hopefully they're not messing around, though I can't really expect much from them, especially Konohamaru..."

A crow cawed as it lifted its wings and flew away, soaring overhead the two girls.

"You'll never catch me!" the thief screamed, the purse he had just snatched almost whacking him in the face as he dashed away from the middle-aged portly woman shrieking after him.

Too caught up in his escape, he failed to notice a taxi rolling up at a stand and letting out a female passenger.

"Thief!" the victim kept screeching. "Come back and—!"

"Whoops." Deidara let an impish grin draw the corner of her lips upward as she promptly tripped the fleeing man, said man skidding painfully across the pavement on his face.

"Everything alright out there?" the taxi driver asked in concern, not even fazed by the giant centipede that crawled out of his vehicle and proceeded to wrap itself around the fallen criminal.

"I've got it, yeah," Deidara reassured him, closing the door, and the driver shrugged and drove away.

"AHHHH! GET IT OFF ME! I SWEAR I WON'T DO IT AGAIN, JUST DON'T LET IT EAT ME!"

The grin the blonde wore turned devilish. "But what if he's hungry? You probably taste just like dango to him, un."

The man's eyes rolled back into his head until only the whites could be seen, Deidara shrugging and walking away, her briefcase thumping gently against the side of her thigh as she made her way down the street.

As the police officers the fat lady had summoned ran toward the thief, the centipede unfurled itself, scuttling up a building and out of sight before converging with Deidara around a corner. If she got any stares from the giant white centipede crawling into the small clay pouches she had on her belt in a manner that should have been impossible, she ignored them.

The first thing on her agenda today was to make a final version of Kurenai's story from the notes she had taken the the drafts she had composed on the way back to the city.

"Tadaima," she announced to an empty home, stepping into Chiyo's apartment. Oh? She's out? Secretly, she'd been hoping for a hot meal waiting for her when she got back, but she supposed that she shouldn't have expected much from the old woman. An excellent cook, Sasori's grandmother was, but not the type to go out of her way for someone when it came to little things like lunch. Toeing off her shoes, Deidara retreated into her bedroom, which doubled as a study room. Her worktable was positioned by the window, so that she could get a fresh breeze coming in during Konoha's hotter spring days.

Once she had cleaned up, she wore a comfortable green women's yukata as she typed away at her desk, papers which she had written on before her return strewn all over the table and floor.

More than once, Deidara would look up from her work at out the window, where she had an idyllic view of a playground.

By the time she had finished, it was almost night, and she yawned while reshuffling papers and stapling them together. It was the first day of May today, she absently noted, throwing on a loose-fitting haori and untying her hair. She brushed through it a few times before leaving the house, holding her papers against her chest so the evening wind would not blow them away.

Tonight, the market district was a curious sight—there were many food stalls open in the main street and lanterns hung about like glowing paper pumpkins; powerful smells of all sorts of foods wafted throughout the place, Deidara's stomach gurgling when she passed by a stand selling particularly delectable-smelling meat and vegetable kebabs.

"Deidara-san?" She heard a voice call her name, and when she turned, she could see Sakura making her way through the crowd to reach try to her. "Good evening!"

"Evening," Deidara echoed the greeting, giving her a half-smile. "Would you believe me if I told you that you're the first familiar face I've seen all day?"

"Really?" Sakura brought a hand near her face to wave away the smoke that came from the grill. "Tsunade-shishou let me off early today so I could celebrate the festival." She sighed, sweatdropping. "Though I have to pull an extra early shift tomorrow to make up for it. Not to mention more people than usual get injured during the festivities... Where are you off to tonight, huh? Please make my job a little easier and not get alcohol poisoning."

She said the last part so seriously that Deidara couldn't help but laugh. "What do you take me for, hm, Sakura-chan? Mou, you doubt me so much, maybe I should land myself in the hospital just to spite you, un."

"Just be warned that on the operating table, your life is in my hands."

"Sheesh. Scary. But don't worry about me, yeah, I'm just heading to Fatso's to drop off my work, and then I'll be turning it." Deidara yawned. "I'm exhausted, yeah. And I have a crick in my neck from the taxi, too."

After saying goodbye to Sakura, she continued on her way down to the Gazette. When she arrived, there was a steady trickle of workers streaming out from the lobby that she had to dodge in order to get inside.

"Choji-kun, look!" Fumiko was saying as Deidara opened the door to the office that they all shared. Their coworker had some ink on her face as she twirled around for Fatso's nephew in a brand new red hakama. "My aunt from out of town sewed this for me! Isn't it pretty?"

"That's the latest style," Choji identified, eyes widening. "It suits you, Fumiko-san."

"Thank you! Oh! Deidara, you're back! You were gone for a while. How was your trip?"

"It was better than the first one," Deidara said honestly, unable to suppress a slight grin.

"I can tell," Choji remarked, glancing curiously at her. "You... look a lot more lively. And is that...?" He lifted his hand to point at his forehead, and it was only then that Deidara realized she had donned the headband Guitar Man had given her on the way out.

"A gift," she said, as if it explained everything.

"That's so cool!" Fumiko gushed before growing worried. "But won't wearing that get you in trouble?"

"Relax." Deidara tapped the metal, where there was a gash crossing the symbol of Iwagakure. "It's only illegal if it shows the full thing. The line means that I don't actually have allegiance to an enemy country, un. Anyway," she looked around, "where's Fatso? It's almost seven o'clock—normally, he'd be here rounding us up for yakiniku."

At that, Choji suddenly balked, his gaze so faraway that Deidara had to wonder if he was having unpleasant flashbacks back to the time they spent wandering in a forest infested with bloodthirsty Zetsu monsters. "Ah... About that."

"He ate too much and is getting his stomach pumped at the hospital," Fumiko explained in one breath, giving her a thumbs-up. "But don't worry, he'll be fine! You can hand in your work once he's discharged."

"So I came all the way out here for nothing?" Huffily, Deidara blew a strand of hair from her face.

"Aw, don't be like that." Fumiko slapped her back heartily. "Let's go eat at Tomoko-oba's! She serves the best fried rice! Right, Choji?"

"Yep. Deidara, we should celebrate your first night back. It's been weeks since we last saw you."

"I—" Deidara's protest morphed into a laugh as Fumiko linked arms with her and pulled her toward the door, Choji calmly ambling after them, occasionally nudging Deidara forward. "Fine, fine, you guys win, yeah." Fighting off a yawn, she added, "I've never eaten fried rice at Tomoko's before, un. It's an Uzushio thing, isn't it?" Growing up in Iwa, she was more accustomed to richly flavored foods with all sorts of hearty sauces and savory soups.

"That's right! But it's delish!"

Gleefully, Fumiko exited the building with her coworkers in tow, her new hakama draped over her other hand. The festival was in full swing, children running around everywhere with sparklers with their haggard mothers not far behind and old men getting drunk on sake or chewing on dried prunes. Tomoko's shop was tucked away on the corner of a less popular street, though there were still a moderate amount of people loitering about and enjoying themselves despite the war that waged outside.

Deidara's stomach started growling again when the delicious smell of what had to be the fried rice Choji and Fumiko seemed to fond of wafted past her nostrils. The windows of Tomoko's were open tonight, and the store itself was filled with the scent of the kitchen's best dishes.

"Table for three!" Fumiko cheered.

A harried waiter approached them. "Is it alright if you share a table with some other customers? We're running low on spaces tonight."

"That's fine," Choji said, and the waiter picked up three menus—they weren't anything fancy, merely a single, sticky laminated piece of paper—off the shelf and escorted them to their table.

As they all sat down, excusing themselves for intruding on the dinner of the customers they had to share a table with, the little red-haired girl next to Deidara ogled her in open surprise. "It's you."

Deidara glanced at her. Wearing a fine yellow and blue dress, she couldn't have been older than nine, and her face was vaguely familiar.

"Shikamaru's friend," continued the girl, uncertainly. "You're Shikamaru's friend."

"Oh." Deidara finally remembered her. "You're that kid who's always with him, right?"

"Ai Wei! My name's Ai Wei. We play shogi together. But he's not here right now, so..."

"Ai Wei," the woman sitting at their table started, curious. "Do you know this woman?"

"How do you not know her?" Ai Wei shot back, scowling. "I thought all of Konoha City knew who she was by now."

"Now, dear, you know your mother doesn't keep up with politics," the man who had to be her father scolded lightly. He was pointedly avoiding looking at Deidara.

"Well, otou-sama, she should."

Deidara quietly ejected herself from the conversation by poring over the menu. Choji was full of recommendations tonight, and deftly pointed out the best dish suited to her palette ("How the hell do you even know what I like to eat?") after claiming that he had tried every dish here at least once. Fumiko was not as enthusiastic about food, nor as much of a connoisseur, but interjected once in a while to give her own opinions, her arm brushing chastely against Choji's every time she leaned across the table to point at a labelled dish on Deidara's menu.

While they waited for their food to arrive, the family they were sharing the table with were making their own conversation. The mother and the father seemed more interested in each other than their daughter, though, who was picking at the peas on her plate with a scowl on her face.

"Hey," Ai Wei suddenly said, looking at Deidara. Fumiko and Choji were too busy chatting to notice. "Why would you defend such a guy, huh?"

Sasori. She had to mean Sasori. There was no one else. Deidara frowned. "Because even if he's done bad things in the past, he's trying to move on from that and become a better person."

"And who are you to know that? What if he's just pretending?"

"Pretending? He must be a very good actor then, un. But no. I know what acting looks like—the best kind, even—and that's not it." Of course, that was always a possibility, especially with someone of his background. But... Deidara couldn't quite put it in words, but no acting skill in the world could ever replicate the kind or raw and genuine emotion they had brought out within each other. They had faced life and death and fighting together—dire situations where only the realest sentiments would be able to prevail.

Ai Wei grumbled, poking through a pea with her fork. It was an unusual sight—a fork in an eastern city like Konoha. Only the countries toward the west and north-west—like Iwa and Kumo respectively—used these kinds of eating utensils. From the way the fork shone, it was brand new—and from the way her parents—both yellow-haired—dressed and acted, Deidara could guess that they probably brought their own utensils with them. Slowly, with the arrival of the rich and the thriving upper-class, Konoha was becoming influenced by the west. Fatso's newspaper company and the clothes Deidara and her coworkers wore was just one thing that had heavy western influence.

"Deidara," Fumiko said. "Where are you heading off next?"

"Oh?" Deidara smirked, turning away from Ai Wei. "Excited to see me gone so soon?"

"Ack! Nothing like that, you meanie!"

"It's nothing too exciting, Fumiko. I'll be heading to the north-east coast, to Uzushio City. Interviewee's a palace worker."

At the mention of Uzushio, Ai Wei perked up immensely. If Deidara noticed her staring intently at her side profile, she didn't show it.

"Oh, Uzushio," hummed Fumiko. "I've always wanted to go there. I hope you have fun."

"Of course it'll be fun!" Ai Wei suddenly snapped, hackles raised. Her parents gasped and looked at her small, ornery form. "The Dragon Boat Festival is coming up, and some people," she glared at her parents, "won't be attending!"

"Dear," Ai Wei's mother tried to placate her with a strained smile. "I'm afraid we'll be taking a business trip north-west during that time—"

"Your business trips can wait! This is my culture we're talking about, dammit—!"

"That's enough, Aiko!" her father roared, standing up. "We're leaving. It's already bad enough you've convinced to eat peasant Uzushio food. You're part of our family now, so you'll act like it, young lady!"

"Don't you dare call me that name!" Whatever obscenity Ai Wei screamed next when her parents dragged her out of the restaurant was in Chinese, and therefore completely unintelligible to the Japanese speakers in Konoha City.

At their table, Fumiko, Deidara, and Choji exchanged glances.

"Well, shit," Fumiko surmised, discomfort in her voice.

The guest quarters in the camp was a tent and not an actual solid structure, and had been spared for Kagami's use, Kakashi (as an honorary member of the family) staying in another hut not too far away.

Konan, along with her meager belongings, was sent there after she was treated. Sasori's things were already inside when she arrived, indicating that he had dropped by earlier. Choosing to ignore how Kagami was shamelessly rifling through his things, she dumped her pack to the side, removed her bedroll, and wriggled into it, wanting nothing more than to rest her weary bones.

"Security check," Kagami said when she felt Konan's tired gaze bore through the back of her head.

"I wouldn't recommend it," replied Konan. "He is a very private man."

"We're egalitarian here."

Konan shifted in her bedroll. "Real egalitarian societies do not exist."

"Of course not." Kagami looked at her. "I was just wondering if you would buy into that nonsense. Haha. It'd be nice to get along, you know, since we're going to be rooming together."

"That can wait."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you're tired. Oh," Kagami lifted her head when she glimpsed a body standing at the entrance, where the flaps of the vast tent were peeled back, "You're Nagaoka, right? Sanada-san's nephew."

"Yes," Nagaoka said, a little meekly. Ducking his head, he held out to her what was undoubtedly medicine and warm wet towels on a bamboo plate. "These are from Sanada-oba-san. A welcome gift for the guests."

Konan made an effort to sit up. "You can leave them on the table," she instructed, not unkindly. "Thank you, Nagaoka-kun."

The boy gave them one stiff nod before bounding off somewhere.

"He's a troublesome one," remarked Kagami, folding her arms and staring at the gift he had left them. Beside the bamboo plate of things was her purple mask, which had a long crack running through it. She would have to replace it soon, or simply live without it. "I caught him in a tree the other day, watching me spar with Kakashi. Had to rescue him when he fell off." She tapped her chin. "Perhaps he's just stupid." Without waiting for Konan's permission, she took one of the warm cloths and wiped her dusty face with it.

Slowly, Konan's brow arched. But she made no fuss out of it, and doubted Sasori would either when he returned to find that his warm towel had been stolen and used by the Uchiha woman. Closing her eyes, she tried to sleep.

When she awoke, it was night, and her throat was dry. Someone had left a lamp in the middle of the tent, and she used the light to fish out her canteen, which had been filled with the water from the tiny stream by Sanada's home.

On the peeled back flap of the tent, she could see orange flashing dimly, and the smell of a campfire reached her nostrils. It must have been around dinner time, judging by the rumble of her stomach and the scent of cooking meat mixed with smoke.

Once she hydrated herself, she stepped outside, looking both ways before spotting a small gathering of people sitting around a campfire. Rocky walls surrounded them, blocking out most of the mountain wind.

"Oh, you're awake, Konan-san."

Konan whipped her head to the side to see the sleepy-looking Hojo woman from this morning staring at her, the distant fire reflected in her inky black eyes. "Oh, you're..."

"Hojo Sonoko, pleased to meet you." She did a small bow, which Konan reciprocated. "I've been asked to look after you during your stay, so," she let out a short laugh, "here I am. Dinner started not long ago, so there should be plenty for you to eat. Would you prefer eating in the mess hall, or outside?" Sonoko gestured to the campfire, surrounded by both men and women. Most of them, the blue-haired woman noticed, were samurai based on their muscle mass, posture, or attire.

"Outside." Konan's answer was immediate. Though it was undoubtedly warmer inside, the raw and authentic way of eating meat cooked over a fire appealed to her in a strange way. Sonoko nodded, and the two women started toward the small gathering of folks. "Hojo-san, do you know where Sasori-san went?"

"Oh, your friend? The last I saw of him was in the afternoon, with Mifune-sama."

Greetings were exchanged as Konan and Hojo sat down among the others. They had begun to cut meat from the roast, and Hojo handed Konan a small bowl of rice and some freshly cooked meat before also taking some for herself.

"What stories are we sharing tonight?" asked Hojo to the crowd. "Since it's Konan-san's first night here, we should tell a memorable one."

"Let's ask old Storyteller," someone said, turning to a stooped, wizened man with brows almost as thick as his beard. They covered his eyes, in fact.

Storyteller cleared his throat. "The Samurai Who Could Not Love," he said, voice gravelly.

"Oh, I love that one!" Hojo said, clapping.

Storyteller began his tale, and Konan found herself so enraptured that she didn't even remember to eat until Hojo nudged the arm she was using to hold her rice bowl.

He told the story of a wandering rōnin who had abandoned the Bushido after he was unable to defend his extended family from the comrades who turned on him, believing him to be a traitor. In a fit of rage and grief, he avenged his family by killing those who had wronged them, and with his heart hardened, he traveled far and wide for many years, lost in his own grief and anger.

"And then he met a woman," Storyteller said, his words echoed by many around him with great amusement. It was clearly a story that had been repeated many times before. Hojo beamed at this part. "And the family she loved."

By the time the story was ending, Konan had finished her food and her eyelids were growing heavy, despite having slept for most of the afternoon.

"Because you see," concluded Storyteller, holding out his arthritic hands toward the fire and sighing in mild relief. "A new family could not make up for the loss of his old family, or make him feel like he had never lost them. However, it was not replacement he sought; the sentiments he held toward his new family were not the same as the ones he held for the old. He moved on, and—slowly—his new family became irreplaceable. And that is the nature of our lives—of the connections between the individual and the community."

It was late into the night when dinner finished. Konan requested leftovers from Hojo, who happily obliged. Carrying a lukewarm bowl of rice with a few slices of meat on top, Konan turned to Storyteller. "Thank you," she said warmly. "For your tale. I enjoyed it."

The old man nodded.

"Hojo-san," Konan rejoined Hojo. "Do you know where my companion, Sai-san, is?"

"Ah." Hojo smiled weakly, fidgeting with the collar of her fur-lined jumper. "It was decided that, due to the... nature of your companion and under Sasori-san's insistence, he would be under watch in... the caverns close to Mifune-sama's quarters."

"So he's been taken prisoner."

"Yes." Hojo glanced around. "Why do you ask? Do you want to see him?"

"Yes, if I'm allowed. Hojo-san?"

"I suppose it's fine. There are guards, and I'll be with you."

The clouds were covering the moon tonight as Hojo led Konan through the camp and to Sai's temporary home. Hojo talked the guards into letting them pass easily, and Konan almost shivered when she stepped foot into the cave, feeling goosebumps rise on her skin despite the warm clothing Sanada had provided her.

Curled up against the cave wall, Sai was trembling from the cold as he pretended to sleep, arms folded across his chest. He was without any of his weapons or scrolls. He was also without any sort of provider of warmth—whether it be a blanket or a torch.

Loose rock and pebbles crunched behind her, but she ignored the curious, probing chakra that Sasori was emanating as he stood at the mouth of the cave, watching Konan like a hawk would gaze upon a mouse as she knelt next to Sai, placing the rice bowl by his thigh.

Sai's eyes opened like a cat's would.

"Eat," Konan said simply.

When he didn't reply, she stood and began to make her leave.

"Why?"

She stilled, and Sasori narrowed his eyes at Sai's question.

Yes, why? she could almost hear Sasori ask scathingly. After all, this boy has done nothing for you. He spat in your face by running off back to his master at the first sign of danger, his repayment for your kindness. So why?

Wordlessly, Konan left the cave and returned to her quarters.

Sasori glanced at Sai's stooped figure once before turning away, too.

The next morning, the bowl was empty.

Mariko hastily dusted Hashirama's shoes as the man himself was putting them on.

"I can't believe you, brother!" bellowed Tobirama, who was helping Hashirama with his official robes. He was already fully dressed in his own formal kimono. "A council meeting today, and you've just awoken?!"

"Well, why didn't you wake me up then?!" Hashirama wailed, the stress of being potentially late making his voice pitch.

"What am I—your nurse?!" Tobirama snarled. "You are a grown man, yet all you seem to do is laze around writing obscene love letters!"

"They are not obscene!"

"Please!" begged Mariko. "Hashirama-dono, Tobirama-dono, I'm finished with his shoes, and his robes look fine!"

"Go, go, go, already!" Itama urged from his room—the walls were thin enough for him to be heard clearly. "Don't wanna embarrass the Senju, do you?!"

"That was directed at you," Tobirama muttered fervently as he all but dragged Hashirama out to the courtyard. They were escorted by four members of their personal army down the street and to the council room. Five kamon on the shoulders, back, and chest of their black silken kimonos, the two brothers looked the part of being scions of the most noble family in Tsukigakure.

When they arrived, their faces were schooled into neutrality.

"Forgive our tardiness," Hashirama said as he bowed low to the head of the council—none other than Empress Kaguya herself. With her long white hair, pale face, and horned headgear, she made for an imposing figure. On her forehead was an artificial third eye that glowed redder than the reddest ruby. "My Empress."

"The Senju," Kaguya mused, her voice echoing throughout the chamber like splintering ice. "Take a seat."

They obeyed, filling the two seats next to the heads of the Yamazaki Clan—a dark-haired young woman with an eye-patch and her father. Both had tattoos running down one side of their face.

This meeting was undoubtedly one for war. All gathered representatives of the twelve noble clans in their small (but powerful) island country wore their most solemn faces and grimmest expressions. Hashirama and his brother were no exception. As per usual, Tobirama did most of the talking. He always did when it came to battle and strategy—it was what he was best at.

"—if we cut them off at this impasse, we can raid their ships and down their numbers. Send in a small platoon first, and we can—"

Throughout it all, Hashirama paid close attention to his brother's words, though it was difficult at times.

At some point during the meeting, the Yamazaki Clan's female head spoke up crisply. "Your Majesty, I've received word that the negotiations with Suna appear to be going well. Chancellor Ono seems to be quite convinced that it is in their country's best interest to side with us. I've also received word that the Emperor of Suna's youngest son, Sabaku no Gaara, is to join the diplomatic delegation in Sunaarashi Toshi."

"Excellent." The faintest smile appeared on her crimson lips. "And what about Iwa and Kumo?"

"Both are currently firm in their stance of neutrality."

"No matter. Sooner or later, they'll come around." Kaguya narrowed her eyes. "Allies are imperative, however. I expect more good news on Suna's allegiance."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty, if I may." All eyes turned to Hashirama, who had spoken demurely. Tobirama's eyes widened ever so slightly, but he otherwise remained dutifully expressionless. "I might have solution to our lack of solid allies."

Kaguya leaned forward from her seat on the horse-shoe-shaped table. "Oh? Continue."

"Within the borders of Konohagakure," Hashirama started. "Lies a large city—big enough to rival, if not surpass, Konoha's capital city—known as Uzushio. They are the remnants of the once mighty Uzushiogakure, and despite being part of Konoha, there has been social and cultural tension for decades between the city's populace and the rest of the nation. They are determined to identify as an independent nation, but Konoha refuses this. With the right sort of persuasion, we could coax them into being our allies."

For a brief moment, the only sound that could be heard was the clicking of Kaguya's long nails on the armrest of her chair. Then she said, "And what sorts of persuasion do you have in mind, Senju Hashirama-san?"

"A political alliance through marriage, between myself and the reigning Princess Uzumaki Mito."

Murmurs erupted throughout the assembly, and even Tobirama couldn't hold down a surprised choke. He glared at his brother, hissing, "Are you mad?"

But Hashirama refused to answer, looking only at his ruler.

"This princess," Kaguya said slowly, "Is only a princess by name, is she not? She has no real power."

"Quite the contrary," Hashirama countered, "Your Majesty. She is in control of a substantial army, and her influence is nothing to sniff at. The only reason why they have yet to revolt and continue to bow to the will of Konoha is a matter of Konoha's overall firepower being greater than theirs. Perhaps," he ventured, "if things go well enough, we could achieve even an alliance with Konoha themselves."

After all, their war was with Ame, not Konoha. Konoha just chose to interfere on behalf of the former.

Kaguya stared down her noble. Then she laughed, shrill and icy. "My dear Senju Hashirama, I am not ignorant to your desires, but I applaud you for your bravery and your cunning. I have known for quite some time that she has not once responded to your advances with anything but rejection and resentment." When his face fell slightly, she scoffed. "Do not fear. I have shown your family much favor throughout these years, and I don't intend to stop now. The Senju House is responsible for the way our great country has flourished for the past seventy years." Her nails tapped. "Send your beloved another letter informing her about potential allegiance and your wish to meet with her. If she will not come to her, you will go to her instead."

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, isn't this too much of a gamble?" Tobirama urged. "If my brother is to travel during wartime, it will surely be too dangerous to be worth the risk."

"What is life if not a gamble in itself? Though, Senju Hashirama," her gaze flicked back to the eldest Senju brother, "You will return with a bride and an alliance between our country and both Konoha and Uzushio. Fail, and your family's livelihood will be forfeit. Do you understand?"

Tobirama swelled like a bullfrog, furious, but Hashirama merely bowed his head. "Of course. Thank you, Your Majesty."

Kaguya smiled—

—and called for a ceasefire.

A/N: Alright. Big thing sorta happened at the end there, but things are all going to plan.

I didn't update for two months and we only get a ~6000 word chapter? Damn right. I had a lot of things to sort out for this final arc, the most troublesome things being where events fit into the timeline I've mentally constructed. Additionally, I've also found myself becoming more and more immersed into Haikyuu! (it's like a repeat of my 15-year-old phase HAHA), and my interest in Naruto has waned quite a bit. But I'm determined to see this into completion, and not even my volleyball boys are gonna stop me from doing this. One more thing: I finished my HSC and am waiting for more uni offers/sorting out my preferences (plus trying to find a job). So that has taken up a lot of my time, too.

Some notes I should put out now:

1. Depending on how this final part goes, we may or may not get to see Kiba again. I fully intend on writing his arc conclusion, but it might not make it into the actual story and instead be posted as a side story/gaiden at the end. The same can go for multiple side characters, such as the Hyuuga sisters (plus Neji), and Gai.

2. Tsukigakure is an island country, meaning it is separate from the mainland, where all the other nations are. The mainland 'standard' is Japanese, though each nation has its own dialect. Similar to how Mandarin is China's official language, but you'll find different provinces have their own dialects (e.g. Hokkien, Hakka, Teochew, Cantonese etc.). Tsukigakure's language, however, is entirely it's own, and NOT a dialect, hence why nobody spoke Tsuki's language during Part I. This is also why native/more traditional Uzushio people, who once occupied Tsuki's island, speak Chinese and not Japanese. Two entirely different languages.

3. The map is quite different from the Elemental Nation's map in the actual Narutoverse. If you find that descriptions are not accurate, they are meant to be this way.

See ya'll next time.