Rated M for language and later content


GLORY


densissima


Senju Kingdom, Fire Country
November 18, 1309


It's the oldest story in the book: the victims of affairs somehow find their way to one another, magnetized by similar circumstances and searching for validation and comfort.

A year and a half for her, one for him, and six months since meeting, a Lord and Lady lie tangled together in silk, satin, and sin, indulging in the moon, stars, and company.

He observes her, mercury eyes dim and low-lidded; she's folded up in his arms, breathing softly against his chest. Hair colored like dusk roam over the pillows, her shoulders, his stomach, and now around his knuckles. He rubs the texture absently, noting their likeness to the feel of her lips.

The lord enjoys silence save for heartbeats and the flicker of candle flames. His head doesn't talk and there are no voices and no important things to remember, upkeep, or note. It's just him and her, simply them.

Then she stirs; first the skin of her left cheek twitches, then her lower lip. Then a single eye opens, verdant and tinged blue in the lowlight. Her palm, splayed against his chest, curls softly into a fist before running over the firm muscle twined along his abdomen. His skin jumps at the borderline sensual contact and he hums to gain her attention.

When she looks at him, he forgets. His past, her past, their circumstances, their ex-lovers, the betrayals. He smiles slightly but sweetly when he looks down at her, tilts her chin further up so that he can align their lips.

Moving together, he murmurs a low greeting. She replies with a quiet laugh.

"How long was I gone?" she asks, tone saturated with satiation and content. He stamps down the want that's rising in him for now and turns to firmly embrace.

"An hour. You blacked out for a bit there."

"Wicked man," she snipes, nuzzling his chin with her nose and mouth. He can feel her smile. "Talented man."

"Vixen."

The Lady's eyes are his favorite part, he thinks. The quality, cadence, shade would all change according to subtle nuances - lighting or emotion or events.

So when they sharpen, go from a warm forest green to a bright, ungodly hemlock, he knows he's about to be taken to Venus' Temple again to offer worship: prayers in the name of lust.

He doesn't care; he lets her climb atop him like he's a throne and she's in power (she is, always is), lets her comb through his hair and down his chest and part the sheets that hide his desire until he's exposed like an easy meal for the greatest predator.

Oh, how positively devastating it is to be her prey.


Neji shoots awake in the present, tasting a bitter cocktail of frustration, sorrow, emptiness, desire; he's drenched in sweat, cursing and wishing, drowning in locked up memories that only ever greet him in the dark like demons waiting for him to be vulnerable to strike.


Senju Kingdom, Fire Country
March 29, 1311


The morning after sees Lady Haruno in her great library, perusing a novel and basking in the sun like a lazy cat.

The distant gates to the village are wide open for the exiting guests - groups of people, guilds, and drawn carriages form a long pathway down the main road, tired from the partying but giddy from the festivities. It makes the lady smile; whole barrels of her family's famed honey wine had warmed thousands of bellies last night and she isn't surprised to see that not all of her partygoers are leaving. Many must've chosen to stay for an extra day and wait out the hangovers. She's lucky that tolerance is something that runs in her veins.

But then she remembers the night before, why honey wine had settled in her stomach.

Senju's Queen has been stewing over the whole debacle; somewhere, she knows she acted out of impulse as a woman, not as a queen. Twice, she'd sat down wondering how to send apologies to the visiting kings. Twice, the messages were scrapped in favor of calling for a messenger to summon them instead.

And twice, she canceled the calls and found herself frustratedly back to square one.

Her ex-husband appearing alongside her ex-lover making sudden appearances flipped her little world on its axis. How the hell are you supposed to face the conglomeration of your shithole of a romantic life when they come from left field like that?

You just do it, her old friend's voice would say sassily if she were here, you strut your stuff because you're unbothered, powerful, beautiful, and they're on your territory, not the other way around.

It's always pleasant seeing Neji again, regardless of their brief history. They're comrades, good friends, and she sometimes feels a bit of guilt at using his body to forget (him using hers doesn't alleviate the little niggling much). It's Sasuke appearing beside him that fucks her up.

Sighing, she wonders if it's not too late, if the kings are still in the village somewhere. Sasuke wouldn't come out here for no real reason, especially not with the other crowns accompanying him (willingly; she knows Neji isn't particularly fond of him). The least she can do is hear them out.

Three knocks bounce off the library entrance and Sakura flips a page without reading, making an affirmative noise. When the door swings open, she looks.

"Milady." Shizune's polished shoes make the faintest clicks when she enters. There's a beat of hesitance. "Lord Sabaku has requested an audience with you."

Sakura's attention shifts and takes in the man striding to stand before her, all creams, whites, beiges, striped in emerald green and topped with pristine golden thread and medals.

Lord Sabaku, in all his firestorm and turquoise glory, is remarkably handsome and immensely strong for being the youngest crowned prince in all the nations - eighteen, when everyone else was coronated at twenty-five. The job has not aged him, she notices, despite being at this longer than she has. He's all hard lines and grim edges, but soft, sweetened features.

Snapping the book shut, she sets the novel down on the table at her hip.

"I'm afraid," he begins, voice surprisingly smooth, like wet, warm sand when the tide pulls back into the ocean, "that I'm unwilling to take no for an answer." Then the ghost of a smile appears. "Forgive me," he adds.

She's silent for a moment, giving him a long look.

"You're persistent," she comments blandly.

"I've been told it's a common quality for fire folk," he says casually without missing a beat. Her lip twitches; his smile returns again.

"You blend in right well with us," she says, waving at Shizune in a common gesture for tea. The dark-haired woman sighs in relief and bows. Sakura's suspended hand moves vaguely towards her guest's head. "Hair's a bit garish."

"And pink isn't?"

"Exactly," she says with a faint smirk, posing her body inwards. She tilts her head in invitation, hand on the chair closest to her. "I don't suppose I can smooth over my poor manners from last night?"

"An hour," Gaara says instead. He comes closer until he's near enough to see the ruby-red threading on her pale gown. "Instead of an apology, I would like an hour of your time to explain."

"An hour," she promises after a moment. "Join me for tea, Your Highness?"


Sasuke wasn't able to sleep the night before.

Not even Karin could charm him into "thoroughly exploring" the inn's bed, much to her disappointment. While she nursed a bludgeoned ego, he nursed a bottle of whiskey in the inn's lobby, watching flames lick at the framework of the fireplace.

Naruto had come by once but thankfully the dense man chose to leave after it seemed his best friend needed space. Neither Neji nor Gaara and their advisors made an appearance.

He hadn't even gotten drunk. The stupor he'd sunk into felt like a middle place, in between Here and There. Time simply passed—quickly when ignored, sluggishly when noticed.

It's what happens when man gets lost in thought. Lost—thoroughly.

He thinks himself somewhat an idiot for once, ignoring the usual self assurance in his every step. Accepting Naruto's insistence at coming here, listening to the other lords, stepping into the castle—he knew exactly what he was getting himself into. But if he thought he'd been ready, he'd been sorely mistaken.

Wretched Lord Uchiha gazes into the amber liquid stirring in his cup, mesmerized by the shade, luster.

No regrets.

Sasuke regrets nothing those years ago, except maybe their downfall. He'd never thought she'd come looking for him that night; she'd never shown signs of caring before then anyways. Things hadn't been working—she was smart but she'd been too quiet, too withdrawn. Too apathetic. Too cold. And he was fire, passion, want.

He was familiar with the Sakura that channeled stone. That passivity—that was the visage he expected seeing yesterday but it wasn't it.

Gone were the neutral stares, the borderline indifferent looks. In their place were eyes of polished malachite, of spiced green thunder and jagged spears of verdigris. They were potent, vibrant, and as he fell in her sight, they only grew a thousand fold in fire.

That's a stranger in a familiar person's skin. A simulacrum.

He knew it before he was escorted out of the castle: he'd have nightmares of that stare should sleep claim him.

And as proud a man as Sasuke is, he deeply fears being pierced by that kind of look again, by those foreign green switchblades she calls eyes. They had history, at least on his part, and it makes him feel ill wondering whether or not the real version of her is that cold, apathetic girl or this- this steeled woman.

What the hell did that mean? About everything? About who he knows?

No regrets but plenty of guilt. Plenty of fucked up, suppressed guilt because sure, he never thought she'd come looking for him but he was the asshole that pretended nothing was amiss that night. He should've at least explained himself a little bit, told her that yes, it's what it looks like but it's not all it's been. Not in the beginning—if that counts for anything (it probably didn't but it's something).

Instead he'd clammed up, matched her ice for ice, then spent the rest of the night thinking about that flicker of hurt across her face, what her arrival had meant. But it was gone the next day, the ones after, and he decided it was a trick of the light.

Then yesterday happened; in the aftermath, he'd gotten to the inn, a storm of confusing emotions and the need to drink. At least maybe if he ended up thinking, it'd be from a detached perspective. Alcohol—the anesthetic for the soul.

He chuckles, the sound bone dry and hollow—yeah, the drunkenness is wearing off but fuck all.

Draining the rest just as the sun touches the sky, he rubs his head and gets back on track. Brother, Rain, war—there it is. There's that resolve, the renewed vigor, anger.

What a fucking mess his life is rapidly becoming.

"Lord Uchiha. Pardon the interruption."

Lifting his incredibly heavy and tired head, Sasuke addresses—who was it? Ah. Sabaku's advisor—the name, he couldn't really remember.

"Hn."

Baki seems generally unaffected by the standoffish behavior. "I would advise you to prepare for the day." There's nothing mocking about his tone; all the same, Sasuke sniffs and narrows his eyes at the man who cares about nothing more than getting back to his king. "Your party will be departing shortly."

Right. She kicked them out, didn't she?

"Then prepare the carriages for the long trip," he gruffly states, standing up to full height. He slouches the slightest bit against the brief vertigo but otherwise stays upright. Thankfully the lobby's been empty; what a sad thing it had been to be a traveling party of kings resorted to bunking in the town than in a castle. Feh.

When Baki shakes his head, Sasuke lifts one brow. "We will not being leaving," he says, "Lord Sabaku has requested an audience with Lady Haruno."

He stiffens. "...And?" Oh fuck, he's beginning to regret the night of no sleep and only drinking.

"She accepted."

Agh. Shit.


The trek to the castle feels almost like an eternity for Sasuke when it really was about fifteen minutes' worth of a walk.

After Baki had gone off to the castle ahead of them, Lord Uchiha was slow to move. Noise from upstairs meant that the others were getting ready, and by the squawks Naruto was making, he'd probably aggravated several of their party members this early in the morning.

Joy; at least he'd get to see the idiot cry first thing.

Shuffling past an open door, he'd seen Shikamaru and Kakashi speaking in hushed tones by the window, both ready to depart. Shikamaru gave him a little bow of the head and Kakashi wiggled his fingers in hello. With a nod and a short, common-courtesy glare at the silver-haired menace, he continued.

Karin was in his selected room, still fast asleep between the sheets. Her frame graced the center of the mattress, likely keeping both sides warm for when he returned. Small regret nagged at him for not turning up but he brushed it off in favor of a shower and fresh set of clothes.

Even after that routine, she lied unmoving on the bed, save for flipping over once. Without the heart to wake her, he touched her shoulder and set aside a pouch and note for her to "enjoy herself in town" and that he'd "be in a meeting with the others."

Satisfied and figuring he could make it up to her later, Sasuke stepped out.

He'd almost run into another person on the way down and instinctively moved back. Then the hairs on his neck stood to attention when he clashed eyes with frosty white.

Lord Hyuuga stood positively rigid at the top of the stairs, one grip on the sword sheathed at his side and the other clutching the railing. His lips had been pressed together in a tight frown, brow angled into an unhappy slant. Exceptionally sharp and icy, but even Sasuke could see darkness shading beneath his eyes.

So he too wasn't able to sleep much last night.

"Lord Uchiha," Neji addressed formally, blandly. Sasuke regarded him in much the same manner; neither moved to take the first step.

That is, until a moron in orange came flying out his door.

"Bastard!" he bellowed out in greeting—so loud that the birds beyond the window had fled at the sound. Naruto came up to his best friend, large hand coming to thump him hard on the back. "Woah, damn, you look like shit."

"Really, you're too kind," he'd replied humorlessly, irritated stare flicking to the amused Hyuuga. His warning look did nothing to shut his stupid face up.

"Well that's okay because we have good news, yeah?"

As cheerful as a sunflower at high noon, the imbecile slings his arm around Sasuke's neck, almost vibrating with glee. With several vulgar words and snorts of amusement, the trio head down the stairs. It's a sight to see; "Fire Breather" Uchiha being corralled by the neck like a lost show pony.

Thankfully, the lobby's still empty. Little blessings.

At the sound of laughter behind them, Sasuke decides to shove a rude gesture into the air at both Shikamaru and Kakashi, who look little more than amused rather than afraid (as if they ever would be). It makes him scowl even more, then shoot an acid glare at snickering little Hyuuga to the side.

Naruto cares about nothing but getting to the castle, arm happily around his best friend and in the best company—and the loud, snooty redhead's nowhere in sight. The day's looking up for them; it's amazing.

"Y'know, I was pretty surprised that Sakura would see us."

He starts his rambles on a random note, not seeing the way Sasuke and Neji stiffen, nor how their advisors glance at their respective kings with knowing looks. Sasuke's foul expression grows darker; Naruto's annoying habit of talking about others so familiarly is irritating, especially since they're walking around in public where prying ears litter every corner, curious about the lords. Bet they have their attention now by saying their Queen's name.

"Wonder what made her agree."

"Lord Sabaku," Kakashi quips from his place behind the duo, next to Neji. Shikamaru nods from his other side in confirmation. "Baki came by and informed us."

"Of course, you were too busy siphoning hot water from the shower to notice," Neji mutters with pure disdain. Naruto huffs at the jab.

"I left some for you, asshole."

A scoff responds to him. "Barely."

"Sakura's plumbing system is insane, okay?" He pouts; the Senju Kingdom's northwest side runs closely along the tight Ring of Fire around their country where thermal springs sprout as often as trees on this land. His town's by the sea—all he gets are the occasional whirlpools and sand in his pants. "My village doesn't have anything like this."

"If you bothered to show up at the last national meeting, you would know that the Uchiha are in the process of building industrial water heaters," Kakashi says.

Naruto's crestfallen expression tricks nobody. Neji shakes his head and Sasuke "affectionately" calls him a nimrod. Really—how Naruto gets anything done around his kingdom is an actual wonder. Fed up with the manhandling, Lord Uchiha wrestles himself out of the idiot's hold with an angry huff. Naruto isn't bothered, curiously taking in the sights and smells as they grow close to the castle.

"Sakura's really spruced this place up, huh?" he asks conversationally, hands in his pockets. He squints. "Was that fountain here last year?"

"No," Neji says. "It was installed over the winter holidays. Or was it during the family festivities in November?"

"Winter," Shikamaru inputs, lazily waving his hand. "For King Dan's birthday."

"You've been here before?" Kakashi asks, confirming suspicions from last night.

He almost misses Neji's sudden, slight tension, (almost) but listens as Shikamaru says, "A few times. Hyuuga's been pretty close to the Senju and Lady Haruno and Lady Hinata are friends." Then, "Have you, Kakashi?"

Nice save.

"A few times," he says vaguely, repeating after him, "in the past." Sasuke attempts to turn around, questions in his eyes but the blonde beside him bumps against his shoulder.

"We should try the anmitsu they sell around here," Naruto says good-naturedly. "Heard there's a grandma who makes the best."

"I'm partial to the anko dumplings," Shikamaru says instead. "There's a reason why Anko always wanted a package brought back in the past."

"The chestnut yokan from here are good," Neji adds in.

"Boring," Kakashi drawls. "The Senju are known for their honey. If you think anything's better than the dorayaki, you're sorely mistaken."

Several disagreeing snorts meet him. "Feh," Naruto mumbles, elbowing his best friend. "What about you, bastard? I know you're not a sweets guy so gimme any street food you like around here and we can pick it up and judge for ourselves later."

Sasuke's expression twists into something unfamiliar, almost frustrated. Naruto stares for a moment longer before the silence clicks.

"...you've never been here before, have you?"

The admission is irritating so he holds his tongue. With the atmosphere tense and Kakashi's eyes drilling into his back, he nearly snaps in anger. Unspoken judgments pass between their party members.

No, he's never been here, he almost says. There was never a reason to. She came to his castle, wedded into his family, took his name. There was never a point; his parents did the cross-country thing for him back when he was eight and they were already talking about marrying him off. She was the one who'd leave their castle to visit her mother, never asked him to tag along, never asked him for much of anything really.

Not that he'd ever verbally admit to such a thing. But that's okay, they get the hint anyways.

"...well you might like the manju then," Kakashi carries on, breaking the uncomfortable air. "They're usually sweet but there are some savory versions for you."


Closer to the castle is when their party meets the guard crew. Two cavalier in polished bronze armor stand side by side, the profiles of their helmets carved into proud, powerful lions. Scarlet red cloth winds around their breast plates, attached at the shoulders and draped as a cowl like the manes of their kin.

One introduces himself as Kotetsu Hagane, an upper division knight with two battle axes strapped to his back and a metal beam running across the bridge of his nose. The other is his partner, Izumo Kamizuki, carrying around an unwieldy spiked mace with surprising dexterity.

They seem to be old friends of Kakashi; the twin soldiers clap terrible Commander White Fang on the back and talk like school buddies. As a single group their party moves across the bridge, through the wicket gate, into the main castle.

Sasuke takes in the new sights with deceptive ease. It's not surprising to be in such a lavish place when his own home is similarly made; it's more or less seeing his ex-wife's home that is a little jarring. It'd been done up for last night's festivities and with their single-minded need to find her, there hadn't been time to admire.

Sakura has always had a particular style that she dressed and pampered herself to. Specific patterns, certain silks, and the everpresent white circlet around the Senju flame, deep jewel tones and broad strokes of imperial brocade. She used to wear gowns of similar design, sleek, satin with panels of rich, golden embellishments that are different from his family's. She's bright and bold, decadent and lush.

It's bizarre, almost, to see pieces of her on a bigger scale, images blown big enough to span across an entire village.

Gazing at the many tall windows letting streams of light in, heavy curtains lined with glimmering halcyon cord are drawn back to display the spring sun at its brightest and hottest. He sees large, thick banners draping over the castle main-rooms, with stretching corridors lined in bronze, and white columns mounted with fine spider lilies and fire blooms. And, he notes with some mild amusement, there's this warm smell that Sakura's always carried with her, a mix of chamomile and vanilla against a bedspread of berries.

Naruto manages to sound like a jabbering parrot up at the head of the party, standing flanked by the two soldiers and right next to Kakashi. He's yodeling about this or that, asking about foods in particular and does Senju have any good noodle places?

"Sure does," Kotetsu says, hands folded behind his head that's vaguely reminiscent of the Namikaze crown. "Northwest from the center plaza, off the fifth side street. There's a bar down there that makes killer ramen."

"Opened by an Akimichi, actually," Izumo inputs. "Choza Akimichi founded it back in the day before he moved east after the war. It's manned by Teuchi, the best in town."

Naruto's practically vibrating with excitement at telling them Choza's son works as the royal chef in his castle, which has the two cavalier whistling in envy. Behind Sasuke, Shikamaru sighs and comments, "Was there ever a time when Naruto wasn't food driven?"

"No," Neji replies solemnly.

Sasuke refrains from snorting. He'll tell them later about how the idiot needed snacks on a stick to learn how to horseback ride in their youth. Just to smirk at his expense.

In the upper parlors by a joint set of stairs does the décor change, going from sleek and vibrant to something from the battleborn days. The two soldiers pause by a display, bowing their heads briefly before continuing and Sasuke sees Kakashi linger with similar respects.

Naruto gazes at the glass box in wonder before coming to some understanding, smiling softly. Both Shikamaru and Neji walk past him to give gestures of gratitude.

And Sasuke reaches it last—the late King Dan Haruno's armor is nestled in a coveted crystal case. Worn and war-torn, singed with fire, brimstone, coppery with blood or rust; it still bears the pierced chest plate where a sword had taken his life—right there in the middle of the Haruno circlet surrounding the Senju insignia.

Then flashes come before him; his father with a similar injury, similar armor, superimposed on the corpse he'd buried at the funeral where his brother wasn't present. The memory is old but the hurt still feels new.

He gives his breath of silent words before continuing on.


Sakura's library is a lot bigger than his own, he admits somewhat grumpily. Then again, Itachi's always been the reader of the two, so it's not really his fault. Plus, he's far better with talking in fists than in words.

The furthest wall is made entirely of glass, letting in large bars of sunlight stamped across pages of fiction and nonfiction alike. The place is open-planned and two floors high, the second reachable primarily by a moving ladder wheeled off into the corner. It's opulent, even suits her.

And in the center by a reading chaise is his ex-wife—a thought that strikes him weird to think considering their circumstances.

The first thing he notices is how similar she is to the image he has from the past. Hair colored like the wing of a rosefinch from Dagarashi Port in Tea Country, eyes the color of shamrocks from River. She's dressed impeccably in kahlua cream silk and flat ballerina's slippers, hair braided loosely at her back.

At the same time, she's so remarkably different that if it weren't for her notable palette, he might as well be looking at a stranger.

There's a new set in her shoulders, self-assured but relaxed, like she knows the world and knows how to tame it, make it eat fire and cry lightning. It's new and somewhere, lingering in the back of his mind, he thinks this had been a good choice, regardless of semantics. Sakura's always been dependable and this new version tells of great strength, endurance.

Oddities aside, he feels comfortable, even somehow hopeful that at the very least there's the possibility of having her kingdom's support. It would be good, he thinks. They would be adults and they would be good, and afterwards maybe they can be decent allies.

"Sakura!" Naruto exclaims, his smile so blinding that the stars pale in comparison. She's amused by this, a grin alighting her face in an expression Sasuke's only ever seen washed-out imitations of.

"Naruto," she greets fondly. "And I see Kakashi's with you. No Jiraiya?"

"Eh, old man's frolicking around Hot Water probably," he replies with a disgruntled shrug. Naruto takes most of his monarchial advice from Jiraiya along with a small triad of his most closest confidants.

"Still a lecher," she says agreeably, then winks at Kakashi, "as if you're any better. How are you these days, Kakashi? Still lonely?"

"You wound me, milady," the commander sniffs in mock hurt. "But I've been well, thank you very much."

She hums, then glances at Neji and Shikamaru, eyes softening a degree. "Neji," she says with affection, "Shikamaru. How are my smartest friends?"

Ignoring Naruto's yodel of, "Booooring," Shikamaru gives an endeared smirk. "My days have been spent, although I could do with a bit more vacation time."

"Your vacation and work times bleed so perfectly together that I have difficulty believing you're not dipping into both daily," Neji snarks dryly. Then he looks at Sakura with something unreadable, warm. "But we've also been well."

"Good." Finally, her inquisitive stare settles on him—Sasuke. She looks at him for several seconds in pure silence, before coming to some kind of conclusion. He wonders what she sees. "Lord Uchiha," she addresses and he notices how he's the only one she calls formally.

"Sasuke," he corrects before he can stop himself, but he figures he hadn't wanted to anyways. It'd just be weird being the only one pegged with a title. He hesitates; there's a gaze drilling into his back but he's not sure who it's from. Glancing at Gaara oddly docile by her side, he continues with a safe, "So I'm sure you've heard."

She frowns slightly, maybe at his lack of small talk but it's gone before he can contemplate. Turning to nod at the redhead sharing her space, she says, "Yes, Gaara's brought me up to date with everything. I can't say I've completely processed everything, sorry."

He kind of understands. It'd taken him some time to get over the initial shock, and even then his head felt screwed on incorrectly. He remembers his wedding; Itachi had been his best man, helped him dress the way his father would have had he still been alive. He remembers the gala afterwards and how his wife and brother had danced, genial, friendly, like they've shared some private jokes in the space of five minutes.

They found good company in one another. Not close—they didn't know each other's deepest secrets or anything but whenever Sasuke was off sparring or training, Itachi and Sakura were having tea in the gardens or library. They had been comrades once.

His betrayal, while not personal, must be difficult for Sakura to grasp. She must not liken the pacifistic man to this belligerent defector and Sasuke can't fault her for that.

"It's heavy," Kakashi readily agrees, "but we still shouldn't have come unannounced last night. We should've at least sent something ahead, or informed one of your messengers to tell you privately."

She snorts elegantly. "No kidding. But this is important and maybe even time-sensitive. I'm sorry for not giving you a chance."

"You're giving us a chance now," Naruto points out with a shrug, ever the forgivable one. "That's what matters."

"True." She turns to Gaara, whispers something softly to him before stepping away. "So you need my help."

"We do," Shikamaru confirms. He glances around the room, the library, and says, "I'm sorry—should this be taken somewhere else?"

"No need. I'm going to make my decision right after you talk."

"Ah." Shikamaru crosses his arms thoughtfully. "Well, as you know with Itachi, he's gone off to join Lord Pein. Senju's medical skills are unrivaled and since we're practically getting involved in a war, we're asking for medicine and aid."

She nods as if already knowing that but there's a look on her face. This time, she regards Kakashi. "What do you really want?"

The advisors glance at one another; Naruto shifts, hovering near a stoic Sasuke that continues to swim between thoughts. He's impossible to read.

"Solace," Neji says. "Your kingdom's a fortress, Sakura. Rain Country's barely the size of a lacrosse ball compared to Fire so it's almost certain the fight will be brought to us. That puts our people at risk."

She considers all of them with composure, stopping to gaze at Sasuke's face. He makes eye contact and again, he feels his expression being probed. Searched.

"You know what Pein's after," she asks after a moment, "don't you?"

He's not sure if she's asking him in particular but he answers anyways: "Yes."

"It's why we came straight here," Kakashi continues, although the pair of exes have yet to look away from one another. "We're certain Itachi's the last recruit and if Pein's propaganda mean anything, he's looking to dismantle the monarch system."

Then it'd make sense for him to target the tightest, strongest string of nobility: Fire Country. Once it falls, the Elemental Nations would soon follow. It's not just a single man's battle, but their entire country. All countries.

So Sakura makes her decision then and there, with a simple nod and the graceful swish of her dress. "I accept your allyship," she says, "and what's mine is yours." Then she looks to Sasuke, guarded yet amused and asks, "You've never been the half-assed type. Did you bring something for me to sign?"

He exhales, this little huff that's almost a surprised laugh at her light jab. He wonders if she's remembering the same thing as him: the month after they'd gotten married, she mentioned loving a horse from back home, white with tabby-mottled furs and he'd asked around the stables at his brother's kingdom for a stead with a matching description. They'd spent the afternoon galloping in the meadows, stomping on wildflowers and dandelions.

(How beautiful life was long ago, when Sakura might've liked him and he might've loved her and Itachi was his brother.)

Then he's back here, seeing her wait for his answer and nods. He gestures for Kakashi to present the official document, dubbed Four Seasons for the four corners of Fire. The fifth line stays blank for six more seconds until her pen touches it, inscribing her name in elegant, wispy cursive.

And then it's talk—about Pein's army, Shikamaru's intel, information Jiraiya had told Naruto to bring. Gaara mentions his kingdom's specialties, Neji adds in his two cents while standing closely to the queen, eyes soft.

For the first time in two months, Sasuke breathes easy, watching a smile curve Sakura's lips.


Revised 01/24/21. Yay.

- burrblefish