Amaryllis
Chapter 16
A thousand years or more,
Where you and I once met
A thousand years or more,
When I'm left with my regret
Sakura opened her eyes to the singing woman's voice. The bittersweet taste of wine lingered on the tip of her tongue. She raised herself on her elbows, blinking against the unfamiliar slants of light across the ceiling.
There was a weight in her lap. She looked down.
Gaara slumbered there, his curls crowding boyishly into his face as he pressed his cheek to her thigh. Sakura reached out to trace the lingering dark circles of exhaustion under his eyes. She knew that her cousin had slept so little at home. Even with two of her guards posted at his door, he had lived in constant fear of his father lumbering his way in with a bottle of wine in one hand. His sleep had improved since she had banned Rasa from the island.
Sakura cupped Gaara's cheek, feeling the warmth against her skin. He frowned, but didn't wake.
She tilted her head back. This is Gaara's room, then, she surmised. A low grunt from the corner drew her gaze to Kankuro sprawled across a long couch. The front of his shirt was ripped wide open. A crude drawing of a horse was etched into his skin with what looked like charcoal.
Kankuro's room, Sakura corrected herself.
On the windowsill sat Temari. Her knees tucked against her chest, she still held onto her spear as she slept. She had obviously fallen asleep while trying to keep watch over what Sakura surmised had been a rather raucous affair. Temari's hands were stained with what suspiciously like the same charcoal on Kankuro. If she thought hard, Sakura could recall some vague flashes of snickering as Kankuro snored, blissfully unaware of the world around him.
It took some effort, but Sakura wormed her way out from under Gaara. Smoothing his hair back, she pulled the tasseled blanket up around his shoulders. Her bare feet touched the cool tile, sending a shiver rippling up her body. Her heels slapped against the floor as she made her way out into the hall.
She was suddenly struck with a memory. A sliver of a glimpse. Light hair whisking around a corner, translucent fabric whispering after it. The deep gold and burning crimson of the tapestries blurred together in her mind's eye. Slowly, she dredged up the afterimage of a long neck and a tender smile. She blinked. And it was just the hallway, bathed in morning light again.
It took her a minute or two of wandering before she could orient herself. The night came back to her slowly and then all at once. Wineskins that gave off a heavy, sweet scent were what she remembered first. Some famous traveling performers had played the night away. And Sakura remembered being convinced to drink more and more of that intoxicating wine. Somehow she had a vague memory of Kankuro murmuring that he smelled poppies. There had been dancing and laughter as they ran through the cold desert air, wrapped in richly embroidered blankets and rugs.
Side-stepping a line of women carrying jars of water to the kitchen, Sakura slipped into her room. To her surprise, the young servant girls had still been by to tidy the room. The unused bed had been remade and a fresh set of desert roses had been placed in the glass vase at her bedside.
Sakura washed her face in rough, slapping motions. And then, just for good measure, she washed her neck and her arms too. With some of the sweat and grime rinsed off, it was easier to think straight. While she considered what to do with the remainder of the wasted morning, her stomach let out a sad gurgle.
"Ah. Breakfast, then," she murmured to herself.
She changed quickly. It felt odd not to go through the motions of buckles and buttons that her clothes normally required. The shapeless purple and gold tunic simply slipped over her head. A short-sleeved outer jacket went on top- richly embroidered and adorned as always. For a brief moment, Sakura remembered the way silk and linen whispered over her skin.
It had been so long since she had seen her island. It would be the winter solstice in a few weeks' time. Though Plumeria, with its tropical weather, had never had reason to celebrate the winter, the festival on the mainland always meant that more merchants visited the island in search of special goods. It would be a lively time on the island during an otherwise quiet season.
Reality called Sakura back in the form of a growling, empty stomach. She let out a loud sigh. The beginnings of a biting headache gathered at her temples.
Though it was a little late to call it breakfast, she still wandered down the bright corridor. It wouldn't be difficult to ask a servant to find something for her to eat.
Pushing past heavy wooden doors, Sakura entered the room where she normally took her meals.
Prince Ebizo sat at the low table alone. He said nothing but gestured for her to sit to his right. There was only a pot of tea, along with one beautiful painted cup. His forehead wrinkled as he took her in. Sakura paused at the threshold as she awaited his reaction. Irritation, perhaps. Anger, even. It had been a given that she join him for breakfast each day since her arrival a few months ago.
But Ebizo only chuckled softly as he gestured for her usual spot to his right.
"Come, child. Your face tells me everything," he called out to her.
Ebizo listened to Sakura piece together the previous night while servants hurried to serve Sakura her breakfast. One servant was thoughtful enough to bring her a fresh cup for tea as well. The dark brew was bitter and herbal, but welcome.
"What confuses me is that there are always people smoking from pipes. How would the smoke have affected us so strongly this time?" Sakura wondered out loud. Because now that she was eating, her head was clearing up.
"I smell flowers," Kankuro had remarked as they sipped at the wine brought by their guests.
Last night, like many other nights before, some distant relative had visited to greet her. While it kept each day from becoming monotonous, Sakura couldn't help but feel at least a little concerned at how many men came to visit. They brought long caravans of camels. Their backs were heavy with wine, jewels, and decadent fabrics. The pile of gifts in her apartment had grown so large that Sakura had started telling the three servant girls to take whatever they liked.
But something was odd about that night. It was customary to pass around a pipe filled with the dried extracts of poppy flowers. As usual, Sakura had declined. She hated the sensation of smoke pouring into her lungs. She had experienced more than enough of that standing on the battlefield.
Ebizo was laughing.
"Yesterday's guest was my nephew's son, Hirokazu. He and his family own land that is famous for its poppy fields. He must have brought a sample for you from over the mountains," explained the old man. Sakura pressed her palm to her throbbing forehead.
"And is there any possibility that it could have been-" she began.
"Oh, indeed. He most definitely added some to the wineskins. It adds a pleasant dimension of flavor…among other things," Ebizo confirmed. He continued to laugh.
"Great-Uncle, next time, if you aware that a guest has a proclivity for poisoning me, please feel free to warn me," she said with a sharp sigh.
The old man only laughed harder. He pulled a large wooden case across the table. When he popped the metal latches open, inside laid several drawstring pouches. He plucked one pouch out without hesitation.
"The job of the elderly should not be to rob the young of their joys," Ebizo quipped in response.
Inside the pouch were dried leaves with a familiar smell. The scowl slowly faded from her face as she watched his bony fingers sprinkle the leaves onto his open palm. With practiced movements, he picked up his pipe and swirled it upside down into the leaves. There was just the crinkling noises and Ebizo's tuneless humming as he worked. He patiently moved the pipe in little circles until almost all of the brown bits were packed inside.
It was oddly soothing to watch him work.
She found her stiff shoulders relaxing. Her hand moved to cup her chin. For the final touch, Ebizo flipped the pipe upright and patted down the remaining pieces inside. He reached into the wooden case again to retrieve a long, slender stick. One end of it was already blackened.
"Hold up that lantern for me, child," he instructed.
Sakura's back straightened. Her head turned in the direction he had vaguely gestured. In the center of the table was a rectangular black lantern standing on three little legs. The panels were made from thin glass and painted over with deep red roses and pointed leaves. Sakura lifted the lantern with both hands and set it down on the ground between them. She tugged the ring on top to lift the lid. With a practiced hand, Ebizo stuck the blackened end of the stick inside until a thread of white smoke rose up. A tiny flame bounced up together with the stick when he pulled it out.
"Great-Uncle," she began, choosing her words carefully. Ebizo hummed in response as he lit the end of his pipe. His lips closed around the mouthpiece, puffing softly as he waited for the tobacco at the end to light. Then a soft stream of smoke escaped from his mouth. He waved the stick to put out the flame.
"When I last asked you, you declined my request for soldiers," Sakura stated. Ebizo nodded like he already knew the answer to the question she had yet to ask. He exhaled, enveloping them in a cloud that quickly dispersed. The wisps curled into themselves until there was nothing left. Ebizo closed the wooden case, pressing the latches shut with two sharp clicks.
"I recall," he answered.
"And yet not soon after, Prince Baki arrived and offered me his troops. And then a few days later, a man named Gando arrived to sell me ships."
Slowly, the corner of Ebizo's mouth lifted. He puckered his lips around his pipe again. When he exhaled, he raised a grizzled eyebrow. He examined Sakura. She leaned forward towards him, her palms pressed to her thighs. Her shoulders were high and tense again.
"Why?" she questioned.
There was no fluff of flattering words. No beguiling looks. None of that was necessary with this man.
"Why did you say no, Great-Uncle, if you were just going to send aid anyway?"
"Did my rejection disappoint you?" he queried. He drew in a long breath from his pipe.
"Yes," Sakura answered, unsmiling.
Only then did Ebizo chuckle again. The brief tension between them dissolved as he leaned back on one hand.
"Of course it does. Since you have arrived, I have been saying nothing but 'family' to you. And why should family not extend its hand to you in a time of need such as this?" he commented. He glanced at her again.
Her eyebrows drew down low over her eyes. She despised rhetoric.
"But my answer is unchanged. I cannot, with a clear conscience, hand you tools of war. Bloodshed is not a burden I wish to pass down to you," Ebizo said, his voice softening. Sakura's lips thinned.
"You tell me that my reputation has reached you already. I'm the woman whose hair is painted with blood. If I'm already the Heartless, why does any of that matter?" demanded Sakura. Her hands fisted into her skirt.
Ebizo puffed on his pipe a few times as he considered her. His gaze was sharp even through the haze of smoke between them.
"How many men have you slain, my girl?" questioned Ebizo.
Sakura smiled with her teeth as she considered this.
"Is there a word for uncountable in your language?" she asked in return. Ebizo ran his fingers through his beard. The thin golden chain hanging from his neck tinkled lightly. Then, he uttered one fluid syllable.
"It means 'infinity'," he translated. But then he cocked his head slightly as he studied her.
"But I don't mean in the heat of battle. I mean in cold blood," he then clarified. Sakura frowned. Her pointer finger twisted a circle into the fabric of her skirt.
"Death does not discriminate, Great-Uncle. If a man's heart stops because of me, it cannot discern between murder and patriotism," retorted Sakura. When she blinked, she felt the hot slime of blood wetting her palms. Though she had done a great deal of good during the war, she couldn't block out the shrieks of widows. They screamed the names of their butchered sons, spitting in her face as she tried to have their bodies buried. Fields smoked, ash and salt souring the soil for generations to come. Vultures circling as the smell of decay rose high.
I'm not a monster, she had told herself countless times.
"If I am ever to be held accountable for the blood on my hands, it will certainly be a long list of accounts," Sakura sighed.
They fell silent for a long while. Then, Ebizo reached out to place his hand over hers. His skin was dry and cool.
"If you already bear the burden of the world, what use is there in adding to that weight on your shoulders? If I am truly your family, I cannot add to your suffering," he uttered in an incredibly heavy voice. Sakura squared her jaw as she looked into his eyes.
"My lands and my legacy have been stolen from me by vipers, Great-Uncle. If you truly love me, then you would feel this pain and know my suffering," she whispered.
Ebizo's face contorted. "My girl-"
"I have watched these men trample on the memory of my mother. Of my grandmother. Your sister. And to have you look me in the face and tell me that you would spare me a little more blood on my hands…" Sakura trailed off.
She hated how this was how so many of their conversations went. The old man just nodding and smiling while she lost her temper. She hated how childish she sounded in front of him.
Ebizo pulled the pipe from his mouth. He clasped both her hands between his. Raising them. And then pressing them to his chest.
"My girl, listen to me," he sighed. "You fight for a just cause. I respect it. But it is a selfish cause. And you must acknowledge this."
"That throne is my right," Sakura snapped. Ebizo held onto her with surprising strength. His stare sharpened.
"You think yourself a veteran of war. But a personal conquest is different from any war you've fought before. There will be no one to blame but yourself. Those screams and deaths will truly belong to you alone. It will poison you," Ebizo insisted. This time, he let her slip her hands out from his.
"Very well, Great-Uncle," was all she said with a shallow smile. Her back too straight. Eyes dry.
Ebizo leaned back as well. He recognized that expression.
"There's no need, then," Chiyo sniffed as she turned her head away from him.
Ebizo almost smiled. She was so like her grandmother, even if she had never met her. He picked up his pipe again. As he raised it to his lips, Sakura opened her mouth to speak again. His eyebrows rose as he waited.
"I… will do my best to understand your intentions, Great-Uncle. I apologize for my childish behavior," she said. But the rest of her thoughts trailed off as she noticed the way Ebizo stared at her.
The old man squinted, as if she were speaking an entirely different language from him. As the silence lingered, his expression sobered before it settled into what could only be described as a sad smile.
"Ah… do you think it simply a pet name when I call you 'child'?" he wondered.
"I'm 23, Great-Uncle. I came of age many years ago," she replied.
Still squinting, Ebizo retrieved his pipe. He raised it to his mouth to suck in a few breaths. He patted her knee a few times as he explained. "Here, when a son marries, he stays in his father's house. Even as he raises his own children, his family continues to watch over him. Just because you've come of age doesn't mean you know the world."
Sakura's forehead wrinkled as she considered this. It baffled her. Marriage was the symbol of a man leaving his parents to settle his own estate. And a woman left her father's house to join her husband's. She had seen girls as young as 14 marry to start their own families.
She didn't move when Ebizo placed his hand on top of her head. The weight was both comforting and stifling.
"You have been forced to undergo horrors that I would not wish on most adults. And yet, you are still young. Why not allow yourself to fumble like any other child?"
Ebizo's words lingered with her as she stood under the punishing rays of the desert sun later that day. The dry heat alone sapped the moisture from the inside of her mouth and nose.
She opened up her hands, clenching and unclenching her fists.
But then, as she let the warm rays of light bathe her face, she squinted toward the horizon. Over the swell of sand dunes, she saw a little figure, blurred by the heat. It moved steadily closer. As she waited, it became clear that it was a figure riding a horse.
Her arms folded across her chest. She took a deep breath to calm herself.
It took several minutes for the rider to reach her. It was a teenager. His clothes were coated in a thin film of sand. When he pulled down the cowl of his shirt, the clean skin around his mouth was a completely different color than the rest of his grit-covered face. He smiled, teeth startlingly white against his dark complexion.
"More letters for you, Your Royal Highness," he greeted her. The language they spoke in the Arids was beautiful. It was fluid, like a roiling river over stones. She knew it in her heart. It was just that when she spoke it, it wasn't as fluently as she would have liked.
"My thanks to you. Your journey has been tiring. Would you come inside to rest?" she answered. The words felt clumsy in her mouth. Karui and Samui had coached her on some of the subtleties in pronunciation. As time went on, she began to feel her tongue loosen up. Perhaps, with enough practice, she would speak it with some comfort.
The boy smiled, revealing a dimple in each cheek.
"Your hospitality honors me. I am not ungrateful, but I have other messages to deliver, Your Royal Highness," he answered.
Sakura took note of the way he rolled his vowels together while accenting the hard 't' at the end of certain words.
She nodded. Pulling the cowl back up over his face, the boy bowed his head.
Sakura watched the horse trot over the sands for a minute before she looked down at the envelopes in her hand. The servants had informed her that it was actually faster to have falcons sent to one of the large port cities on the western border. From there, special couriers took possession of such letters and delivered them into the desert. Birds were often disoriented or even killed by desert storms. Couriers knew the desert well enough not to have much trouble navigating the dunes. Sakura had discovered that, on average, her letters arrived about a week faster through using these messengers.
The stack this time was enormous. There were several of them piled together and secured with a length of twine. It took several seconds of tugging with her nails to loosen the knot enough to pull the twine off.
The first envelope was a little heavy. It was cream-colored and sealed with red wax. When she turned it over, she easily recognized Itachi's handwriting. She flipped through the other letters.
Two from Haku, several from Ino, a few from Lady Kurenai, and another few from Sasori. There was also an envelope in Shizune's careful hand, along with messages from her marquises. And an extra from a friend who called himself 'Sota'.
Sakura slipped the letter from the mysterious 'friend' into the folds of her dress. She ripped open Itachi's envelope as she walked back into the shade of the palace. The top of her head was beginning to feel baked by the sun. A smile immediately formed on her lips as she took in Itachi's familiar handwriting. The precise loops and slants of his writing reminded her so much of him.
Dear Sakura,
It seems that I am constantly beginning my letters to you with 'I hope this finds you well'. But what more can be said? Your absence has left a gaping wound in all of our lives. I hope that you, at the very least, are sleeping well. I must admit that I sometimes find myself missing our midnight walks.
Our dear friend Sasori has been less than happy about what he calls his "dull incarceration". He threatens, about once a week, to abandon his post. But then resumes his work with such diligence that I can't help but laugh. He has also become a good source of conversation in these last few months. If I don't listen carefully, sometimes I hear you in his sarcasm.
He went on to talk about the weather, about how the winter harvest of moon tea had gone. The winter crop was always slightly more potent than the summer harvest. Apparently he had spent an afternoon in the kitchens with Shizune, watching how she soaked the dried flowers to be reconstituted into tea.
The envelope was particularly heavy because there were a dozen letters included. They were all from different days- some rambling and some short.
The shortest letter was only three sentences.
I miss you terribly today. All is well. And yet nothing is well without you here.
The longest one went into great detail about how he had accidentally stumbled upon Kisame and Ino locked in a fierce battle of cards. Though Sakura was glad to know that her friend had found something to occupy her on the island, she worried about the mischief that particular duo might get up to.
The most recent letter asked her if she remembered one day they had spent in the library at Goliaf perusing through various records of family trees and laughing at some of the awful names they had found. She remembered him, of course, wrapped up in his austere robes then. Conflict of any sort was just a distant memory. The tentative brush of her hand against his had been enough to set his cheeks and ears ablaze.
By the time she had finished reading all of Itachi's letters, Sakura was back in her room, sitting on the bed.
I am growing to despise the ocean that separates us.
Would it be too obscene to ask it to part? Can I ask the heavens to move more swiftly, that the spring would bring its touch more promptly?
Despite the headache pounding between her temples, Sakura couldn't help but smile at that. As verbose as some of his messages were, she smoothed her hand fondly over the stack. His quill and fingers had moved over these very letters. Her irritation over the sluggish morning quickly dissolved. And just in private, for that one moment, she closed her eyes and let out a real, soft laugh.
The rest of the letters she took in just as carefully.
Haku wrote to her of the island. Shizune had officially taken him under her wing as her protégée. He now assisted her in overseeing all of the palace's day-to-day activities. Even through written words, she could imagine the pride in his voice.
Perhaps, one day, I will have the honor of directly managing your household, My Lady. When that time comes, please continue to treat me kindly.
Ino described all the new people and things she did during her days and nights. She had become fast friends with many of the staff at the palace. They often took her out to the city where she snuck into taverns. She sipped at sweet fruit liquors and learned to sing bawdy songs with the merchants.
At the end of her letter, Ino also insisted that she had written to her parents and informed them that she was safe. She made no mention of her mother, or worse, her father arriving in the port, demanding to see his daughter. Which was odd.
She saved the letter from her mysterious friend for last. Perhaps out of a childish desire to heighten the excitement. Or perhaps because she already had an idea of who it was from.
The envelope was a more coarse material. It was sealed with plain white candlewax. But the pattern stamped into the wax was far from ordinary. It was the impression from one of her rings: a rose inside a circle. Infinity swallowing the most fickle of all flowers.
My dear friend,
I hope that you have been in good health. My travels had found me riding the high seas in search of the perfect present for you. I have been to many different cities and yet the proper gift for you eludes me still.
My brothers send you their greetings as well. The last I have heard, they were scattered along the countryside. No doubt they too are on their various journeys, searching for treasures of their own.
Though I may struggle to find you a sufficient gift, rest assured. I will return home in time to partake in your birthday festivities.
In the meantime, guard yourself fiercely. My thoughts are always with you with the rise and the fall of the moon and tides.
Fondly,
Sota
She had never expected a mercenary to have such decent handwriting. She had laughed out loud the first time she had seen him write something down.
"Kisame," she sighed.
"My thoughts are with you," she read out loud.
Suigetsu and Mangetsu are with you.
Cheek cupped in her hand, Sakura considered the letter for a long time. Though she had privately discussed these matters with Kisame, she wondered just how much she could trust the mercenaries to prove useful to her. Sasori distrusted them with just a touch more hatred than she deemed appropriate. Itachi seemed to have little issue with them. He had even struck up an odd friendship with Kisame.
For the time being, she was now aware that should the need arise, Suigetsu and Mangetsu were staying in the same city as her. Given the Diamond Oasis' security, she doubted there would be any need for them. She wondered why Kisame had deemed the brothers the most apt to serve as her protectors. She would have preferred Chojuro, who stood out the least with his mild smiles.
Ever since she had discovered Suigetsu's little stint spying on her, Sasori had urged her at least two more times to just have him killed. But the mercenary had sworn loyalty to her. He and his brother had gotten on their hands and knees to thank her for her mercy. She suspected from the way that Mangetsu glared at his brother that Suigetsu had been reluctant to do so.
She knew that the brothers would be stopping by in the next few days. She also knew that tomorrow would be yet another day that she still didn't have all the answers she wanted.
Sakura tossed the letter aside. She rolled onto her stomach, then onto her side. Staring out the window. As the countless stars swirled together in dizzying circles, she imagined falling upwards into the vast expanse of the cosmos, twisting and drifting with the heartbeats of life too.
"Are you certain this is safe?" Ino asked for the second time. Her hand hovered in the air.
There was a light touch at her elbow. She glanced over. Haku urged her to reach forward. And finally, she grasped the strange, prickly fruit. The spear-shaped leaves pricked lightly at the skin of her palm. She looked at Haku again. The boy mimed splitting it open with his thumbs. Ino hesitated again before she pressed her thumbs firmly against one side of the fruit and pulled it open.
The sticky pulp inside released a sweet fragrance. She sunk her teeth into the fruit, sucking the juices up. A giggle squeezed past her teeth. Wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist, she stared down at the wondrous fruit in her hands.
"Amazing! This is absolutely exquisite!" Ino exclaimed as Haku handed a few coins to the vendor.
"You say that about every new food you try, Lady Ino," Haku commented with a smile. Ino didn't even get irritated when he poked fun at her like that.
"True. But that's only because everything here is delicious and wonderful. No wonder Sakura prefers to spend her time here. This place is easily 10 times as pleasant as the capitol," she sniffed in return. Haku said nothing else as Ino filled the basket and paid the merchant, who was still laughing at how she had haggled the prices down.
"Young lady, you come back anytime now. You're too akamai to get cheated by some other vendor," the merchant instructed.
Face pinching, Ino looked back at Haku. "Intelligent," he translated for her.
Her face lit up. She was laughing and chatting with the merchant all over again. Somehow, she walked away with an extra free fruit in the basket Haku carried for her.
Lady Ino chattered merrily as they made their way back to the palace. Her golden hair trailed down her back in a loose braid. Delicate lines of pearls crisscrossed between sections of her hair. A few small flowers were tucked in here and there. Ino was immensely proud of the style and took every opportunity to boast about the wonderful skill it took to accomplish such a thing. It had been done by a few of the servant women's young daughters who fawned over the pretty lady with her blue eyes and hair the color of the sun.
At one point, Ino hooked her arm through Haku's and drew him close to her side. Haku flushed until he realized that Lady Ino most definitely did not see him as a boy, much less a young man. The forwardness of her actions was still somewhat flustering but he was learning to expect it from her more and more.
She's quite sweet. If anything she does piques you, remember that. She has a good heart, Sakura had warned him. Patting his cheek lightly, she had boarded that ship in her tall, tall boots and wandered off. She wrote back as frequently as she could. And once she sent back a small ring that fit on his thumb. It was a simple gold band with a triangular diamond set in the middle.
'To my diamond, who shines even in the dark,' was all she had written in the enclosed letter. Haku feared losing it as he worked. He twisted it round and round his finger whenever his hands were empty. And eventually, he began to fear losing it and stopped wearing it during the day. Only slipping it on and admiring it at night, just before he went to bed.
But less than a week later, he had received a little package wrapped in brown paper. Inside was a gold chain, by no means a cheap trinket. He slid the ring onto it and wore it around his neck at all times. Though no note came with the present, Haku had a suspicion as to who had sent it.
Because as he walked around the palace running his errands, he noticed one of Lady Sakura's mercenaries often staring at it. The tall man called Zabuza seemed to always be staring at him. And even when he was standing with his eyes closed, Haku could feel his dark eyes roving over him whenever he turned his back. The other servants, who had become like older sisters to him, always laughed.
"He fancies you, of course!" they exclaimed as clouds of flour puffed up between them. More giggled as they plopped down the risen mounds of dough onto the counter. Haku watched the older women, with their strong forearms, knead the dough into shapes. With practiced ease, they spun the dough into ribbons that they twisted together and braided like strands of hair. Other sections of dough were flattened and filled with sweet fruit spread. He helped them brush honey and flower nectar along the tops so that they glowed a crisp golden brown when they came out of the oven.
"Why would he not? Our Haku is so very charming," one of the girls closer to his age piped up as she swept the finished bread onto a plank of wood.
"But… I'm… I'm not a woman…" Haku sighed as he looked down at himself.
"Is that what worries you, little Haku? We're different from the mainland. Such things don't matter here," one of the other girls said as she pinched his cheek. Haku flapped his hands at her. Fresh laughter erupted from the rest of the staff.
"That wasn't what I was worried about," he huffed.
"Then have him sweep you up in those big, burly arms! Life is short, little brother! And wasted on one as beautiful as you!" someone else chimed in. With more laughter ringing around the kitchen, they opened up the doors to the blazing ovens to shove the loaves inside. As the sweet smell of bread swept around the room, Haku rubbed the flour on his hands off onto his apron.
"Little Haku. would you fetch us a jar of fresh water?" one of the older women instructed.
"Yes, Ma'am!" Haku responded, already moving. He hurried down the walkway, sandals slapping against the creaking wood.
As he walked, he pulled the tie out of his hair. His ponytail had loosened throughout the morning. While he struggled to gather all his hair into a manageable bunch, he failed to notice a tall figure standing directly in his path. He collided hard with a wall of muscle, teetering on one foot.
"Careful," Zabuza's deep voice rumbled. His huge hand closed around Haku's arm. Haku's eyes grew wise like twin saucers.
"Um…thank you…I mean- pardon me," he blurted out.
"Haku?"
Haku started at the sound of the woman's voice.
"…I am truly sorry. I wasn't listening, Miss Shizune," he admitted with what he hoped was the appropriate amount of contrition in his voice. But the older woman simply sighed without anger.
"I said that the preparations for Lady Kurenai and Lord Sasori's breakfast went very smoothly today. It seems that the kitchen has benefitted greatly from your presence," said Shizune.
She graciously ignored the blush spreading across the boy's cheeks. The child had been in an odd sort of daze all afternoon. It wasn't like him to be so inattentive. Although…
Shizune's gaze flickered to the glint of the gold chain around Haku's neck. Lately, Haku had developed a habit of fiddling with the jewelry whenever he was deep in thought. And everyone in the palace knew that nothing escaped Shizune's notice.
They stepped down the wooden path together, Haku still immersed in his thoughts.
"You know, they say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach," she remarked.
"I beg your pardon?"
Chuckling, she put her hand on his shoulder. "You heard me, little bird."
Elsewhere, far across the seas, the smells of a roasting pig drifted up from the lower levels of the castle. The biting chill in the air had settled in long before the frost. But now the kingdom was covered in a layer of snow. Each morning brought a faint hint of sunlight before the grey skies settled in for the day.
Kushina smiled sadly as she watched her son pace back and forth at the window.
"Do you think she received it? Was it lost at sea? Did bandits steal it?" Naruto fretted aloud. Slowly, Kushina rose from her seat. The heavy folds of her dress settled around her as she took steps toward him. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she stopped Naruto.
"Naruto, you've been there yourself. The islands are a long way from here. It is possible that she hasn't even received them yet," she slowly said. Naruto's gaze darted from the window to her. Finally, he took a deep breath.
"Yes. And…she could have written me back and the letter is on its way, right?" he said. As he looked back at his mother, she quietly avoided his gaze as she searched for the right words. At the silence, Naruto looked past her to his father. Minato smiled brightly, crinkling the lines near his eyes.
"Of course, Naruto. Now your mother and I have matters to discuss," Minato told him.
Expression brightening, Naruto nodded. He squeezed Kushina's upper arm before he exited the room. Kushina stood frozen in place, her hand still hovering where Naruto had been moments ago. Heaving a deep sigh, Minato lowered his body into a chair. He rubbed his face with his palm before raking his fingers through his hair.
It took a long moment before Minato could gather his thoughts.
"Why did you tell him that? Rumors say that she's not even on that island," he sighed.
"At least he can have something to hope for! He's been worried sick," Kushina snapped.
Minato rubbed his temples.
"Alright. Fine. But that aside, the fall harvest was smaller than anticipated. Marquess Shimura tells me that we must raise taxes to purchase more grain from the Mountain Kingdom. But if the peasants are already hungry, I doubt that they can afford to pay more," Minato began. Kushina only crossed her arms over her chest as she listened.
"Duke Hyuuga has been discouraging me from proceeding with almsgiving as we discussed. With the discontent among the poor, why doesn't he understand how important charity is?" Minato wondered.
"Perhaps he doesn't see merit in helping the poor? Duke Hyuuga has always had a low opinion of everyone other than himself," remarked Kushina. If he were in a better mood, Minato would have laughed at that. Kushina's smile faded too.
"Thankfully, Marquess Shimura managed to convince him. That should keep the citizens quiet for a little while."
Minato didn't sound so relieved.
The reason why he discouraged Naruto from walking around the city was that the animosity towards his family had only grown in recent years. He had hired Sir Sai last year to keep watch over Naruto as public opinion continued to sour.
After the war, his advisors had assured him that people were easy to please. In the end, neither the nobles nor the people were so easily handled.
The nobles had split into two contentious factions. The nobles that supported the Namikaze family, led by Marquess Shimura and Duke Hyuuga called themselves the Aristocratic Faction. The nobles that supported the Haruno family, led by Countess Inuzuka called themselves the Loyalist Faction. The various noble houses of the kingdom had aligned themselves in secret. A few oddball families such as the Akimichi's had chosen to remain neutral.
The clear split in the kingdom had, no doubt, become obvious to their neighbors. Thankfully, Naruto and Sakura's visit to the Mountain Kingdom had produced favorable results. And Sakura had made quick work of the conflict in the south, although Marquess Shimura seemed less than pleased by the outcome.
"And now Count Yamanaka's daughter has gone missing and he is accusing Sakura of holding her captive. Even though Lady Ino herself assures us that she is there of her own volition, the Count comes barging in every week to demand action. But how can I even begin to accuse my…my…" Minato trailed off as he struggled to come up with the proper word for her. Not-quite-daughter? Niece?
"We could send some ships… just to confirm," suggested Kushina.
"I doubt the navy would be willing. The Admiral is her cousin."
"We have some ships of our own. They're small enough that we could slip in as merchants. We'd be in and out before anyone even noticed." Kushina laid out the plan. Admittedly, Marquess Shimura had mentioned this to her the other day. About how he envied that the Namikaze family had a port of their own.
"It would make communication and travel so much more convenient," he had sighed into his tea.
Minato gave a tired smile. He nodded as he thought.
"That could work. Thank you," he uttered, his shoulders too heavy.
"I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, husband, but the noble ladies have been pushing that we begin grooming Naruto as a proper prince," Kushina informed him. Minato wracked his exhausted brain for the right answer. Some days he felt so tired that it seemed good enough to tell Marquess Shimura to handle things.
"I…" Minato found himself rubbing his head again as he thought. "But Naruto isn't the heir."
"Then who is?" Kushina asked.
Minato slowly raised his head. His tired eyes took in Kushina standing by the window. Her willowy silhouette looked sharp against the soft grey and white of the landscape. She had started to look so washed out since they had moved here. He could have sworn that her hair had been more red. Perhaps it was the gray light playing tricks on his eyes.
At that ball, when they had first met, his chest puffed out with excitement, her ribcage squeezed into a corset. Lightheaded and irritated all at once, they had exchanged barbs and then sly looks. She remembered the joy that had lit up his expression when she allowed him to take her hand.
And she remembered, off in the background, Minato's older brother sweeping up a gorgeous lady in his arms. The entire world had seemed to glitter around them. The way their heads lightly tilted toward each other made her heart squeeze. And she could imagine the secrets, the laughter that flowed between them as they swept around the dance floor. Even the wispy fabric of her train, soft and transparent had made it obvious that she was from a different world.
That night, Kushina had looked at Minato and known that they weren't from the same world as those two. At best, she knew that she was pretty. And he was good-looking. But that was more than enough for her. Feeling his sweaty palm in hers, she had known in that instant that her slice of happiness was here.
"You hate this," he whispered, not for the first time.
"I just want our family to be happy," she replied, her voice tight, her face even tighter.
Minato almost answered: "But we are happy." He couldn't say that one lie. Not when his wife stared at him that way. Not when he understood the danger they all were in.
Because if he vacated the throne, there would be war. The nobles would bite and claw their way for power. Sakura would be forced to take up arms and slay her own countrymen.
And if he stayed… he had no idea what would happen if he stayed.
"…I hate this too, Kushina. Just… a little while longer," was all he could say as he reached for her hand. Kushina let him take it. Her fingers felt too cold as she squeezed his tight.
The night was usually a calm time in Sami. Though the occasional feast or festival filled the air with drumbeats, for the most part, when the sun set, so did the noise.
Sakura believed that once the evening meal had been served and cleaned up, the servants deserved some time to themselves. This was, at times, inconvenient. Such as when they wanted tea right away. But it did afford a unique calm to the labyrinth of walkways and water.
Of course, just because the palace was quiet didn't mean that the rest of the city was.
During winter, the seas became unpredictable. Sudden storms often struck merchants and their cargo. As a result, winter was a quiet time in their trade-dependent city. Only the most necessary goods were shipped through the tumultuous waters. And only the most experienced mariners dared to try.
Empty boats. A full city. It was the busiest time of the year for the taverns and inns. Each night, faint strains of music and swells of laughter floated into the island from these establishments.
Kurenai herself had been in these places many times. They were often filled with the island's sun-baked workers and the soldiers that had followed Sakura over from the mainland. They served as guards and patrols, sometimes even taking the time to pick up a new trade from one of Plumeria's many skilled craftsmen. Over drinks and music, they attempted to make conversation. It was a patchwork quilt of words. Often each side replaced a word he did not know with a word from his own tongue. Hand gestures and facial expressions filled in whatever gaps remained.
Because Sami sat just above the city, the lights from these buildings were still visible from the palace. And sometimes the rowdier taverns could even be heard at a distance. This night, although a little windy, would have been the perfect night to sit and overhear the noises of the city.
For the first time in a while, however, Kurenai was not lounging in a pavilion in Sami. Instead, there was a villa on the northern coast of the island. Her sister had given it to her as a coming-of-age present. It was humble compared to her usual residence, but it was a good place to get some peace and quiet. She had sent word in the morning. The servants had been prepared for her by the time she had arrived after sundown.
Eyelids drooping, Kurenai pulled off a piece of bread to throw into the water. The white scrap bobbed on the surface for a few moments. Then it sank slowly into the depths. There was a flash of silver as a fish below snatched it up with a jerk of its head.
It had been months since Sakura had sailed off to the Arids. Sasori was hard at work each day, fulfilling the work Sakura had left behind.
"It's incredible," Sasori had remarked over supper one day, "how Gaara manages all this without losing his mind. Administration is no easy task."
A deep sigh blew out past her lips. Reclining on her side, she tossed the rest of the bread in at once. Hungry fish rose, disturbing the surface with their greedy mouths. Her eyes returned to the letter.
It had been a long time since he had arranged the meeting place like this. Usually, he left it up to her. Crumpling the letter in her hand, she let it fall into the water. Where the ink would run. And the paper would dissolve into nothing. Just as everything else did.
It wasn't so bad, she supposed, to let him take charge every once in a while.
"And what is a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" a voice interrupted her thoughts.
Before she turned to look, she knew who it was. A scowl settled over her face. She continued reclining, her cheek resting heavily in her palm.
"The better question is, what is a thing like you doing in a pretty place like this?" she jibed in return. But she kept her back turned to him to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks. In all her musings, she hadn't heard the creak of his little boat or the splash of his oars in the water.
Chuckling, Asuma slipped the length of rope over the metal peg on the walkway. With a grunt, he heaved himself up onto the dock. The boat drifted with the current, sliding underneath the platform and bumping lightly against one of the wooden posts. Even when the clomp of his boats stopped directly behind her, Kurenai refused to move.
She felt his fingertips skim over her bare arm. They were fleeting touches, whispers of a slight tickle. Then the backs of his fingers stroked her temple. The touches pushed her hair out of her face. And then his lips pressed against her shoulder. His breath was warm against her cool skin.
"Cruel as always. You seem to be well," murmured Asuma.
Kurenai finally turned her head to meet his lips. His beard scratched her face. She complained about it, for the millionth time. His smile didn't change.
"I think it makes me look dangerous," he insisted.
"I've always hated it," Kurenai grumbled.
"And I've always ignored that you hated it. Why change now?" came his cheerful reply.
"That's true. People like us don't need to change," laughed Kurenai, her hands linking behind his neck. She pulled herself up to meet him when he bent down for another kiss.
"Now, Count Sarutobi, care to share why we're meeting here?" she inquired.
"Tell me. Were you this cold with all your suitors?" he questioned, his hands sliding down her back. Asuma's beard was prickly against her throat as he nuzzled against her. His weight settled over her, powerful but not overbearing.
"Yes. A lady should be consistent in all things," she remarked. Asuma laughed again. The sound of it vibrated through her in a pleasant sort of way. It had deepened over the years, but she could still hear the past in that sound. Like if she rubbed her eyes hard enough, they would both look the way they had when he had first stumbled upon this villa all those years ago.
Clearing his throat, Asuma put his hand over hers. Patted it a few times. "Alright, alright. I wanted to talk to you about the grain crisis in the kingdom."
The smile evaporated from her face. "There is no crisis. We should have more than enough to last us through the rest of the winter." Her voice whipped out sharp as she sat up. Asuma rolled off her with a smug look. The silk strap of her dress slipped off her shoulder.
"Exactly," he replied. Propping up his chin in his hand, he watched as the thoughts raced through Kurenai's head. He slowly reached out to hike the strap of her dress back into place. She didn't even seem to notice.
Eyes narrowing, she snapped her head toward him. "What do you know?" she demanded. And then, casting a furtive look over her shoulder, she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket.
"Who else have you told?" Kurenai hissed.
Asuma raised both his hands in surrender. "No one. Just you," he assured her.
Only after she measured his expression did Kurenai release him. "Then continue to keep this a secret."
Asuma blinked a few times. "Even from the little lady?"
"Especially from my niece. She has enough to worry about as is."
Samui's lips thinned. She held out the letter pinched between just her pointer finger and her thumb, as if the very envelope would sully her skin. This was how she had walked into the room. Karui followed, her face twisted in a similarly sour expression.
A goblet of wine raised to her lips, Sakura turned her head to regard the guests. She nodded at them.
Temari sat across from her, her fingers busy peeling the rind off an orange in an even spiral. Kankuro's head lay in her lap. A towel lay across his face to block out the light, which, he claimed, worsened his migraine. It was rare for him to act so spoiled, but Temari tolerated it given his suffering.
Though it was now night, it seemed that Kankuro, in particular, was still struggling to recover from his groggy awakening that morning. It had taken him nearly half an hour of scrubbing in the baths to remove the crude drawing from his chest. Though Temari swore that they had no idea who the culprit was, her smile made it quite obvious who.
Gaara sat between the two women. His gaze was bright and clear. If anything, it seemed as if the deep sleep had refreshed him. The only hint at the previous night was the light bruise on the side of his forehead. It matched perfectly with the one on Kankuro's forehead. The brothers did a good job of hiding them with their curling hair.
Sakura sipped her wine before she spoke.
"Is it a summons from the lord of pestilence that you must hold the letter so dramatically?" remarked Sakura. She cradled the goblet in her palms.
"No. An invitation from…her," Samui commented with a curl of her lips. Sakura looked over at Temari who simply shrugged one shoulder.
"You must forgive me. That pronoun does little to explain," Sakura answered.
"The eldest daughter of the Terumi family. To be precise, she is the daughter of your Grandmother's nephew," Samui clarified. Temari's forehead wrinkled as she attempted to connect the twisting lines of the family tree in her head.
Sakura didn't even bother to try. All those extra words in the relation meant little to her. If she was descended from the original Haruno line, then she was a relative in some way, distant or not. If she was a great deal older, she would be an aunt. If they were similar enough in age, they were cousins.
"And she is…summoning me?" Sakura inferred based on Samui's scowl. The blond woman nodded once, blunt bangs swishing against her forehead.
"The precise word she uses is invite, but you can assume her meaning," added Karui. Samui clicked her tongue.
"Regardless. The audacity of it all is staggering. To invite a foreign guest? Why does she not make the journey across the sands herself?" Samui went on. Karui nodded furiously throughout the rant. Sakura only listened with as neutral an expression as she could muster. Occasionally Temari nodded beside her, her mouth also settling into a grim line.
"Tell me about her, please," Sakura interjected. At this, Karui and Samui turned to exchange strange looks. Karui shook her head. Samui sighed heavily.
"Well… Mei is… well known around these parts. She is…" Samui began. But Karui cut in by miming tracing the shape of a woman's breasts.
"She is very well-endowed. And she dresses in a manner to make this obvious. Her lovers number into the dozens," listed Karui.
"Oh," was all Sakura could say to that.
"Her city lacks steady supplies of food, so she's been known to make… deals to secure supplies," Karui added, making a face. Samui went a little green just at the thought.
"What exactly does her family do?" Sakura interrupted, already bored by such petty gossip. Samui blinked a few times.
"Ah…the Terumi family works with metals from the earth. Their family produces some of the finest blades on this side of the sea," she informed.
Temari's eyebrows rose. Gaara nudged Sakura's leg under the table. But even without these cues, Sakura was already considering the possibilities in her head. She reached out for the letter, which Samui gladly handed over.
My dearest cousin,
I apologize for my delay in extending a warm welcome to you. Your journey to the Land of Wind must have been exhausting. Therefore, I wanted to provide enough time for you to rest before writing to you.
I am aware that courtesy would have me come to see you in person. However, I would like to break with tradition and invite you to my home instead. We have a great many wonders in the east that I believe you would enjoy. The stories of Plumeria have reached me even here. Still, I'd imagine a woman of culture such as yourself would appreciate seeing something new.
Terumi Mei
The letter ended there.
Sakura felt Gaara lean over her shoulder as he read along.
When Temari nudged his knee, Gaara began reading out loud.
By the end of the message, Temari wore the same expression as Samui.
"She's quite… eccentric," was all Gaara could say.
"Rude," Temari corrected him.
"Rude or not, it sounds like she could be of use to My Lady," Kankuro spoke up in a coherent sentence for the first time that night. He even nudged the towel aside to meet Sakura's gaze.
"Perhaps we should pay her a visit then. It would be rude not to accept such a show of hospitality," murmured Sakura as she folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope.
Act One [End]