Rated M for language and later content


GLORY


crescere


Senju Kingdom, Fire Country
March 29, 1311


Karin thinks the sun looks like a pinhole light punched into the sky—large in idea, miniscule in comparison. She wonders if it happens to be a part of a grander constellation but dismisses the thought. The sun thinks it's special but at the end of the day, it's like the others. It's just a star.

How funny, she decides, that labels are an awful lie that people believe just to feel different. Hilarious.

The cosmos pick the main characters. The rest are just afterthoughts, blank spaces, and postscripts.

Sipping from her tea, she kisses the rim and gazes at the village. Her inn room gives the perfect view of the gates down south, wide open and filtering people out. She contemplates forgoing plans and going back to bed but decides it's not worth returning to half cold sheets, partially unmade because her dear husband never returned in the night.

Then she figures that she should follow her schedule; people to see, money to spend. Smiling at the pouch of golden ryo, she tugs the thin rope and watches the coins twirl in the morning light. How sweet of her husband.

And what a shame.

Downing the rest of her drink, she sets the cup to the side and slides her robe off. Enjoying the feel of warmth on nude skin, she contemplates proceedings. Her entire party's absent judging by the lack of screaming (Naruto), which means that the group's gallivanting in the castle and probably gaining favors. It won't be long until they return with good news and she suspects her husband will send her back to his kingdom, perhaps to keep her safe, perhaps to warm his throne. Who knows.

But before then, there's business to tend to. She'll need a change of clothes, right after a nice shower. Simple but extravagant to feed her vanity some. The angle of light speaks close to high noon; she's going to have to leave within the next half hour to make it on time.

Gazing at the bright spot in the sky once more, she tosses her phoenix-winged hair back and gets to work.

Stupid ball of fire. What a joke—supposing it's special enough to have a unique name when the sky is filled with things just like it. Wearing the exact same masks, same lies. Parading in titles, great pretender.

The sun is also a star, and just like them, it can also die.


Senju Kingdom, Fire Country
April 6, 1311


Despite the cruelty of war, it happens to have certain rules. There are six—immutable, irrefutable, and going against them begs more than just immorality. You're just an asshole.

But of course, such rules hardly apply to a unique situation such as this—the successor of the Third World War, into the Fourth.

So sure, maybe you're an asshole. Or you're from Fire.

(To some, that may be synonymous).

For one, Fire is a country forged in brimstone and steel—their circumstances don't fit the clean cut mold of war and this is how Shikamaru decides that the whole thing will be messy, ugly. They'll fight honorably but more than that, they'll fight relentlessly. He isn't dumb enough to believe Pein will bother following the same rules.

It's that sixth one though—that's the one that their wars follow since the beginning of time, first in the form of warnings, then in the form of paper. A formal declaration, important because everyone wants to keep track of their wins.

This is the only idea convincing him of their time between now and the inevitable. He tells the others and is met with agreements but curiously, Lady Sakura shakes her head and wishes to draft the declaration herself.

"Are you sure?" Shikamaru asks, lashes lowered to hide his consternation. "Kakashi and I can handle putting something together. I assure you we're both more than qualified." Seeing as Kakashi is Commander White Fang and the Nara happen to have military strategy bound to their DNA.

"It's not that," she soothes like a balm, "I'm very confident in your abilities. It's just something I want to take care of."

He only reluctantly agrees at Kakashi's nod. Later, White Fang will tell him about how the Senju own no royal advisors, just that lady in waiting. The crowns happen to be all they need for strength and it's held up for many decades. It relaxes his concern.

The party spends their days outlining details, discussing their weaknesses, strengths, testing their fits to see how and where they can find a place in this jigsaw. Mistress Karin returns home three days after the alliance, traveling with Baki until he split off to reach Suna. Karin would help the Uchiha Council handle the kingdom in Sasuke's absence, Baki would inform Gaara's siblings and ask Temari to step in.

A messenger had gone off to Lady Hinata to inform Hyuuga's villages while several scouts were sent to track down and maintain connection with Master Jiraiya, hoping to establish communication and keep an eye on the Namikaze throne.

Slowly, the cloth sews itself together, red thread twining like shackles, chains, lifelines, and safety nets. It gets rougher as time passes and with every uncovering of information, more of the image is revealed.

Eventually, a tentative compilation of Pein's specialist division is put together. A poison specialist, a pyromanic, a former swordsman, a bounty hunter, a cultist, a cannibal, a masked man, the righthand woman, and the Uchiha. The pages are spread thin across the surface of a conference table in the west wing of Senju Castle.

Sakura stands over these pages, brows scrunched together. Dressed casually in a cotton peasant blouse and deep red trousers, she leans back to tie long, petal pink waves into a large, thick ponytail. Summer is approaching and the heat grows unbearable when it wants to be.

At a sudden knock, she hums in the affirmative and glances at arriving faces. With a slight smile, she notes Neji's ever present grim expression before sliding to Shikamaru, amused by the gleam in his eye. For all his lethargic tendencies, the man has a penchant for action and strategy and this must rattle his cage in the best way.

The specialist division consists of nine extremely skilled but extremely diverse people. Building nine separate tactics around each of them must get him going.

"Good morning, milady," Shikamaru greets. Neji echoes the sentiment; if his stare lingers, no one in the room acknowledges it. Unspoken, their decision to avoid certain topics is mutual. "Any luck?"

She laughs at his daily question; of course there's luck. Sliding a ream in his direction, she says, "This came in with a message from Baki. Had Genma decode it last night. It's a profile on the Suna defector."

Shikamaru hums, skimming the pages while Sakura gives him a verbal run down.

"His name's Sasori of the Red Sands. Nicknamed the Scorpion King in South Suna during the civil war, the guy's a medical genius. He's brilliant in poisons—so much that crafting antidotes against them is known to be near impossible."

"You said 'near,'" Shikamaru notes with amusement.

Her eyes twinkle secretively. "Hm," she hums noncommittally. "Regardless, there's a few things on there about his fighting style. He primarily works with blood routes of intoxication. Blades, for example. Not as common but known to be used are inhaled, ingested, and water-carried poisons. Most of his stuff is fast acting though."

"How are you handling that?" Neji asks, gazing at a picture of the cultist's wicked, smirking face and slicked back hair while Shikamaru is immersed in familiarizing himself with the new puzzle piece named 'Sasori.' Sakura gestures to a journal closer to her, worn with her name written across the leathered front.

"I'm still working on locating Countess Chiyo but I'm getting closer."

Her and the old woman had kept in touch all these years through letters dotted across many months, but Sakura thinks there's a way to track her. By the weight of the pencil on the pages, by the age of imprints on the paper, by the color of the sand staining the corners.

"Until then, I've asked Gaara to question the Suna medics on characteristics of Sasori's most common stuff. Maybe Shizune and I can whip up some basic antidotes. General mixtures that can at least slow down the poison."

Neji's half smile is hard to ignore. It's a common reaction of his these days, especially while witnessing Sakura in action and she returns the expression with a light laugh. He likes this dynamic—friendship, good allies. It makes it easy to ignore the screaming, bright purple elephant in the room.

And if, for just a few seconds, he can forget the way her skin tastes on his tongue, then it's a bonus. It means he's not completely hopeless.

"What are the others up to today?" she asks him now that Shikamaru's in his own time and space, scrawling notes on a new page. Neji slides the one with the cultist's face away—it's a little creepy.

"Naruto and Gaara are plotting individual kingdom strategies," he says. "There's word that Master Jiraiya's sending in longer messages once he gets closer to Namikaze mainland. Stuff specifically about Pein and Konan. Is Genma free later?"

"He should be." Writing on a corner, she notes the reminder and slides a file down with the face of a woman bearing periwinkle hair. "I'll send for a summons after dinner. Can you meet with them in the library?"

"Of course."

"Perfect." Shikamaru continues muttering to himself, sketching on a new paper. Sakura asks, "Anything else?"

"Kakashi and Sasuke are getting information on the others. Itachi, especially, along with the one that wears a mask. He's apparently been spotted in and out of Uchiha territory before. Orochimaru as well."

She raises a brow at him. "Why Orochimaru?"

"He's formerly affiliated with Pein and currently controls rogue Sound State," Neji explains. "Maybe he'll get involved in this, maybe he won't. I doubt he'd pass on the opportunity. It'd be good to keep track of him too."

Sakura frowns thoughtfully, gazing at a scratch in the middle of the table. "Then I think I can get information on him by asking my mother. She'd know his fighting style at the very least."

"Noted."

"Lady Sakura," Shikamaru cuts in, finally coming up for air. He leans back in his seat with a great exhale, like he'd just finished a particularly hard math problem. He glances at Neji, wondering if he'd intervened with an important conversation but seeing as his lord appears neutral, he continues. "I apologize—that earlier plan you had about poking around enemy lines. Can we discuss that further?"

"Find something in those pages of yours?" she asks teasingly. Shikamaru smiles at this, small and crooked but triumphant. The crowns pay him their full attentions.

"I think so. According to Gaara's reports on Sasori's movements, the guy's been zipping in and out of Snow, Waterfall, Hot Water, and River. Almost in a pattern—one month, then one month, then one, and so on."

"Sounds like he's keeping to a schedule," Neji comments, crossing his arms. Eyes flickering to the map, he notes the distinct lines and asks, "Why would he be just brushing against our outposts like that? These reports are from the past year."

—which is true. Rain wasn't even that big of a deal, just a thorn in Fire's side. Sasori would have every reason to avoid Wind outposts, obviously, but not Fire. Not when the conflict hadn't started until recently.

"What if he's not avoiding us?" Sakura frowns but the expression is less tight, more thoughtful. She retraces the travel pattern with her eyes. "What if he's circling us?"

"For what?"

"Many things. Sending missives comes to mind but Sasori's too skilled to play messenger. He'd be doing something big."

"Like?"

Why would he be making meticulous trips? Neji contemplates. One month in a country, one month back to base, repeat. Silent, just out of their reach, and without his partner, the pyro.

Then it dawns on him: "I think he's recruiting."

Neji's comment hangs thickly in the air.

"My lord?"

"He's recruiting rogues around the edges. Maybe even stationing them. Once the signal's sent, then they can coordinate an attack." Gesturing on the map with the tip of a pen, he explains, "First in Rain, then all the way east to Snow. Back home, then Hot Water. Repeat—to Waterfall, then south to River. He chose the furthest first in the earliest part of the last year."

Shikamaru and Sakura exchange a look, easily joining Neji's logical train of thought. So it seems that in the past year, they've steadily become surrounded. Sakura scrutinizes the map, plucking a spare page bearing Sasori's face with two fingers.

"They must've been planning something like this for years," Shikamaru breathes, hand twitching, mouth twisted. A joint would be fantastic right about now; the excitement has turned into anxious jitters. "We're already at a disadvantage. Rain's way more annoying than we thought."

"Not quite."

He openly frowns in Sakura's general direction. "They've got us on the north, west, and south sides and the rest of us is bordered by water. Even if they pushed us into the seas, Mist is across the way and they definitely don't like us."

She hums. Neji looks vaguely amused. "You're awfully laidback about this. They beat us out on that plan you had."

"Hm, but Shikamaru said they'd probably be waiting for a signal." She waves her hand towards Rain Country on the map. "Until then, they're sitting around, relatively harmless, so maybe we should do a little pre-empting too."

Neji raises a brow, folding his arms in interest. Shikamaru, hunched over the table, stares up at Sakura. There's a gleam in her eye.

"How about we rough up their little brigades?"

Shikamaru huffs. "We haven't declared war," he says pointedly. She hasn't shown a single hide nor hair of the draft and her responding smile is serene.

"It's unnecessary if these rogues aren't soldiers officially affiliated with Rain," she says with that intriguing tone of hers, like she's building up to a secret. "To anyone else, we look like we're just doing some general crowd control on bandits, as we usually do."

The image is blurring into clarity; it's enough to make Shikamaru's frown ease into a line. "So what's the plan?"

"Two points of attack" —said number of fingers are held up— "Senju's west front has walls and stationed knights, so seeing as I'm closest to Rain, I doubt they'd try anything with me. Same with the Uchiha. Itachi's kingdom is weakened but the security's elevated in the aftermath. That leaves Hyuuga and Namikaze."

Spreading a new page in between the three of them, Itachi's frozen, solemn face stares up at the ceiling.

"I think we should use the water to our advantage."

"Need I remind you about Mist?" Shikamaru prods. Sakura swats at him, strange smile in place.

"Funny that you mentioned Mist," she says, glancing at Neji. "Shangri La for the rogues. I'm almost certain Pein might've dipped into their numbers if Kisame's" —she nods to the shark-faced man on a paper— "travel patterns are anything to go by. He was last sighted there. But they shouldn't be a problem since we're not entering their land."

"So how are the seas to our advantage?" Neji asks, gazing at the shaded blue on the map.

"Without a formal declaration of war, they can't do anything that might suggest an international incident," she explains matter of factly. "So we take advantage of the open water. We strike the most concentrated areas, which are probably the furthest places from Rain since mobilizing troops quickly is much harder long distance. Their only hope for stopping the attack is if Mist comes out to form a barricade."

Then she traces the coasts.

"Barricading our waters is an act of war. But they can't do that since—"

"—we never declared." Shikamaru's astounded. He stares at Sakura's pleasant expression. "That's why you wanted to handle the draft."

She snorts. "What, you thought I was procrastinating?"

"I thought you were another Kakashi," he says, chuckling. "Lord knows you can laze around just as bad."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." She jams her elbow lightly into his arm. "What do we think of the plan?"

"Sound," Neji concedes, nodding. "Are there any specific places you have in mind?"

"I was thinking of sending word to Sir Jiraiya and Hinata," she says. "Dispatching the usual scouts to see if there's been any activity. Then we can plan routes."

"Excellent."

"I'll go get the others," Shikamaru says, "they'll want to hear about this." The excitement in his eye returns anew at the prospect of progress. Gathering a few pages of notes, he bows to both superiors and heads to the door. When he's gone, silence is left in the aftermath.

Absently, Sakura flips through her little notebook without actually reading any of the words. With a piece of her past across the way, the history she's kept sequestered in a pretty chest labeled 'Neji' plays back like a film reel.

Gazing at his elegant profile, she notices the little things that haven't changed, yet have. He's still insufferably pretty with a straight nose and strong jaw but feminine brows and cheeks. Aristocratic, almost artistic. He looks good dressed in his cotton blouse and dark trousers, collarbones sharp against the ties cinching the top together.

The jade green mark on his forehead noting Southern Hyuuga blood accents his ivory complexion, just slightly raised but smooth if memory serves well. It's the only real splash of color compared to his monotonous and neutral palette. They have that in common, a mark on their foreheads. Like her mother . grandmother, and great grandmother before her, there is a diamond tattooed above her brow bone indicative of position, since the tender age of ten.

They've spent nights face to face, foreheads touching and tattoos sealed together in intimacy. They'd separated on good terms, mutual grounds. It was because of situation, kingdoms that needed their rulers, duties without a relationship proper.

He'd simply smiled at her that day, sitting in her gardens and sipping her favorite tea. "You don't need to explain anything to me," he'd said with that warm, comforting tone of his. "I know what we were getting into."

They fucked unhurriedly that night—slow, deep, gentle. The morning after was their last as lovers, and then he'd departed. Every subsequent visit between them was as comrades or diplomats, doing business, being friends.

A fond note touches her chest; why she'd been hostile the night of the party is beyond her. She still feels immense guilt at the knee-jerk reaction.

But she supposes there isn't much to expect in those circumstances. Her and Sasuke, with Neji, Karin...

She sighs; being ruled by emotions is exhausting.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Neji asks without looking up, flipping through a manila.

Sakura flicks her eyes at him before feigning focus on the journal in her hands. "I was just thinking about the way I acted during the party." A beat. "I'm still sorry about that."

Neji finishes skimming, setting the file down without closing it. His stare skitters across her features in examination. She wonders what he always seems to be looking for.

"Don't be." He puts up a hand to stop her opening mouth. "I know it must've looked odd, and especially on your birthday, I'm certain we were the last thing to expect."

"True." She smiles slightly, tentative but an attempt. "How'd you manage to wrangle the invitation from Hinata anyways?"

"Legally, of course." He snorts derisively. "If you remember Kurenai...?"

"Sir Asuma's wife, right?"

He hums. "She fell pregnant. Hinata wanted to stay by her side after hearing the birth might have complications."

Concern contorts her face. "Complications?"

Neji's responding smile is faint. How so like her to be worried. "Whatever they might've been, it's behind them now. She gave birth to a healthy baby girl on the third."

"What'd they name her?"

"Mirai."

She laughs, soft as dandelions. 'The future.' How fitting.

"And Sakura? About what happened before."

She straightens, mouth twisted after smiling so sweetly. "Listen—"

"It's behind us too," he interrupts gently. "It's okay. It was a lot to ask for, barging into the castle without warning. And with an assembly like ours." He reaches out, nudges their knuckles together in a vaguely comforting gesture that feels a lot like a truce. "I don't fault you for reacting the way you did and whether or not that changes anything, well, apology accepted."

Sakura blooms then and there, just like a flower, right before his very eyes. It'd been gnawing at her, that banquet, the reaction, so it's easy to pick up on the way she relaxes. Her knuckle nudges back in acceptance and he smiles, small and meaningful.

Hooking his pinky with hers, he tightens once and waits for a response, then drops away altogether.

"Besides," he says good-naturedly, smile morphing into half a smirk, "it'll be nice seeing you fight again. Shikamaru's never up for a good spar."

"Believe me, I haven't had a decent one in a while." She groans at the memory of her last. "My mother's really the only one I can fight around here that won't baby me, and it feels more like she's trying to permanently introduce me to the ground."

"Shikamaru tries very hard to be the ground," Neji replies solemnly. Sakura snickers in reply. "We'll just have to remedy that."

"Indeed."

"It's very rude to gossip."

They pause in their banter when the door opens all the way and Shikamaru's disgruntled expressions greets them. Behind him is a yawning Naruto next to Gaara, an indifferent Sasuke and cheerful Kakashi trailing. They filter into the room, occupying various seats.

"You make it terribly easy," Sakura teases, shifting aside so that Naruto can cram elbows with her and take the neighboring spot. Sasuke takes a stiff seat beside him and Kakashi offers a light-hearted wave. Gaara sits across, Shikamaru wedged between him and Neji.

"You just like laughing at my expense," Shikamaru grumbles. Naruto's present enough to snort at the comment, ignoring the scowl sent his way.

"Meh, I've seen bricks run faster than you," he says, mouth opening wide to yawn again.

Sasuke huffs beside him, a mutter that suspiciously sounds like, "you're one to talk" spoken under his breath. Ignoring the bellow of indignance beside him, he glances between Sakura and Neji, something unreadable on his face but skated over with a, "Shikamaru said you have a plan."


Sasuke watches like a hawk, noting the subtleties. He wouldn't be general of an army nor such a highly regarded warrior for nothing.

Just like picking up on the slightest twitches of an opponent, he notices little things during the conference that he's got half a mind on. Naruto's not used to waking so early by the way his leg is shaking, keeping him alert enough to stay consicous. Shikamaru, for once, looks surprisingly energized for a usually lethargic man and Kakashi's in the same boat, his nose not pressed to some nameless romance novel. Gaara's much the same: difficult to read but physically still.

It's Sakura and Neji that seem to behave different. He'd been contemplating the nature of her relationships with everyone here—Kakashi and Naruto aren't hard to pick up on; they'd seen enough of her during their time together to warrant their closeness. She's friendly enough with Gaara, the kind that's associated with well-meaning, first-time acquaintances.

But he wonders how she knows Neji and Shikamaru so personally, enough for her to banter with the latter and exchange silent conversations with the former. They glance at each other so often, eyes familiar, that it makes his brows scrunch. It's not in his nature to not know.

Frowning slightly, he ignores Neji for now and zeroes in on Sakura explaining her idea. He's pleasantly surprised to find that her plan's good, almost brilliant. Not issuing a formal declaration gives them a little wiggle room, time that can be spent to gain some sort of upperhand. Better yet, she found the perfect way to do that.

She's calm when she talks, calculated and confidant in a way he recognizes. She'd been like this back then, over domestic affairs and against the Council early on. He knows she's smart but military strategy requires a different kind of genius; somehow, she fits the mold.

It's like looking at her through new eyes, he thinks, and for once he can swallow his pride enough to admit that indeed, the decision to come out here was perfect. With Sakura hashing out more of her moves, he finds little fault in the early but well-thought plan.

All except one.

"How are you so certain that specialists aren't stationed in these countries?" he asks, arms folded and face passive. He tilts his chin to the marked map, then the profiles with faces staring back. "If we send out scout parties, no matter how stealthy, we risk getting caught. If these small groups get caught, especially by a specialist, then unnecessary lives will be lost."

She stares at him while she contemplates, then nods her head. "That's why I want Namikaze scouts out in Namikaze, and Hyuuga scouts in Hyuuga. Routine patrols are normal and if they're not supposed to be acting out suspiciously, then they would be observing from afar."

"And if they choose not to follow the declaration bylaw?" Sasuke regards her coolly. "Pein doesn't strike as the type to follow rules."

"Maybe not most," she concedes, "but this one, he might."

"How would you know that?"

She purses her lips. She must not like his challenging tone.

"...I have a friend out there," she starts hesitantly, "who's keeping an eye out for me. She said he's searching for a formal historian."

"You've got a spy?" Naruto cuts in, eyes wide. "What the hell—when?"

Sakura laughs softly at his expression, waving her hand. "I sent her out the night after we signed the allyship. I wanted to see what was going on for myself."

"And you didn't tell us?" Kakashi says, feigning hurt. "I'm shocked. So deeply shocked. What else have you been doing behind our backs?"

"Reading your awful books," she deadpans, "Did you know that Hisoka actually ends up sleeping with—"

"I respect your decision to act independently," Kakashi solemnly cuts in, avoiding further spoilers. She smiles at him, looking much like a cat. "When were you planning on telling us though?"

Naruto's flabbergasted, "A spy?!" is ignored. "Eventually," she says, regarding Sasuke. He frowns softly, the expression pulling his lips. She looks apologetic though, so normal and casual of an emotion that his frown is remedied. "She's stationed in Rain and posing as a mercenary for hire. Her first message came this morning. That's how I know Pein's waiting to declare."

"So now it's a matter of who declares when," Gaara finally says. "Either them or us, but regardless it only takes one to reach the other to start."

"That's why we have to do this as soon as possible," Neji concedes, nodding to Gaara. "We're thinking of sending out messages by the end of this meeting to get Namikaze and my kingdom moving."

"My operative used to work in the Senju Aviary," Sakura explains, "and she trains many of her birds for speed. If we send out a message now, it should reach Jiraiya and Hinata by tomorrow morning."

"How long do you think we have?" Naruto asks, leg still shaking wildly but following the conversation. His eyes are wide; Sasuke's only ever seen him so enthused when involved with food.

"A month," Neji supplies. "Pein has only started looking for a historian. Rain doesn't have a long history and it's quite industrial, so it won't have many recordkeepers. He might be looking for someone outside the country. A month minimum."

"Is that enough time?"

"It's perfect." Sakura smiles, confident, reassuring. "The thing that will take the longest time is our move after confirming where the concentrated rogues are, but we'll have things going in tandem to speed the process up."

"What's 'in ta—'"

"It means at the same time," Sasuke cuts in, rolling his eyes when Naruto mocks him with "I know what it means, I just needed a refresher."

Sakura laughs at this and it makes him smirk faintly. That's familiar; Sakura saying something smart, Naruto being an idiot, and Sasuke needing to explain.

Sakura and Sasuke exchange long-suffering looks when Naruto starts brambling at some teasing quip Kakashi makes and it's just like a long time ago, when she might've liked him, he might've loved her, and he had a brother.


Namikaze Kingdom, Fire Country
April 7, 1311


The first falcon touches down in Namikaze almost a day later, when the sun crawls up the sky. It lands directly beside Jiraiya's head, who'd been sleeping nestled in the leaves of several tall trees, their branches knotted enough to make him a comfortable, sturdy bed.

He'd been startled awake by it, drawing a dagger and clearing sleep and adrenaline from his eyes. When the epinephrine stops pumping long enough for him to squint through the pre-dawn darkness, beady eyes gaze back at him, the falcon wearing a little medallion with a familiar clan symbol.

Unfurling the paper stuck to its leg, he absently scratches the falcon—who preens at the attention and beautifully ruffles its feathers in return—and begins to read.

By the end, he smiles sharply at nothing. "Senju, huh?" he asks, the bird tilting its head at him. "So it's finally begun?"

Faint neighing and the crack of a whip followed by rattling carriage wheels scoot in the distance and he glances at his newest companion. He'll have to take the pretty bird for now so that he can send something back.

"Well," he says with a short grunt, easing out of his canopy bed, "shall we fetch a mighty stead to take us to the castle, Birdy?"

The falcon coos softly and he laughs, kicking at one branch and destabilizing the structure beneath him. He drops several meters from above, landing softly on a bed of moss beneath and in the way of the carriage. The driver curses in a foreign tongue, yanking on the reins to stop.

"What the hell are ya doin'?!" he shouts.

"Sorry," Jiraiya says without an ounce of guilt, patting the nose of the closest horse, "but I'll have to borrow this sweetheart. Hope you don't mind."

"What—"

He mounts the horse immediately and the falcon dives from between the trees, severing the leather that bound the ride to the carriage. With a call, Jiraiya sends the horse galloping into the forests, falcon coming to dig into his shoulder for the journey.

By the goddess; what a pain his former students are turning out to be.


Northern Hyuuga Kingdom, Fire Country
April 7, 1311


The second message reaches Hyuuga by noon, landing next to Hanabi at the practice archery fields. Startled and clutching Mirai, she tries shooing it before realizing it looks much too smart—if slightly bored at her waving motions—and happens to bear a royal symbol.

Scrunching her brow, she whistles, two high tones followed by something low and Hinata crests over the field, jogging towards her.

Wiping sweat off her face, Hinata straps a longbow to her person and hikes her quiver higher, expression concerned. "You called?" she asks once close enough, breathless.

"That bird came from somewhere. Senju, I think," Hanabi says, rocking Mirai slightly. She watches, curious, as her sister beckons the intelligent falcon closer and softly touches its feathers, untying the small paper.

She reads, progressively growing grim.

Hanabi worries over the foreign expression on her sister's face. "What's going on?"

"Remember what Neji mentioned about Lord Sasuke?" Hinata asks, turning sharply on her heel and walking towards the castle. Hanabi scrambles to catch up, clutching Mirai tighter.

"Yeah?"

"Related."

They come across Kurenai and Asuma in the hall, Hanabi forfeiting the baby to the former. Hinata greets her old mentor, then tilts her head in Asuma's direction.

"I have a favor to ask of you," she says. His eyebrows rise.

"Fire away."


Namikaze Kingdom, Fire Country
April 24, 1311


The first attack occurs a little over two weeks later. Scouts returning from regular patrol report back suspicious gatherings of rogues along the eastern coastlines, particularly in random towns south of Hot Water and just beyond Fire's Hacho and Tonika Villages.

Once confirmation returned to Jiraiya lounging in the Namikaze Castle, he began preparation.

The first order of business was alerting their harvesters, who would need to begin parsing provisions for the oncoming battles. Secondly came warning the villagers, who would no doubt panic at seeing smoke in the horizon. They were ushered inland, closer to the west side of the kingdom with a dozen soldiers nearby to protect and possibly start moving towards Senju if problems arose. It was done quietly, deliberately, under the guise of prep for Golden Week in remembrance of the last war and Konoha's founding.

Familiar with the various routes into and around Namikaze, Master Jiraiya led a small group of Namikaze soldiers upwards into the Whirlpool Mountains, betting on the idea that Rain's rogues would be on the other side in Hot Water territory. According to intel, they've been camping awfully close to the ranges, mapping the cave systems for possible future purpose.

They never saw them coming, especially from the sky.

A torrent of soldiers in light chainmail bearing swirling, polished copper symbols scaled the mountains and wreaked havoc from above. It was pure luck that this camp-out wasn't too populated or skilled, and with glory and cunning did the squadron annihilate this borderside's enemy count, no survivors.

Jiraiya gazes on after weaving through enemy lines as they fall like trees in a forest, booming with laughter at the clumsiness. Opportunity truly waited for no one, especially the unprepared.

At the mouth of a cave overlooking the damage, he grins and straps his little message with a single word onto his fellow falcon's leg, smoothing its feathers.

"Take this off to your superiors, Birdy. Safe travels."

With a broad, shrieking caw, the falcon soars and pierces through the clouds hanging above.

This attack is deemed a success.


Southern Hyuuga Kingdom, Fire Country
April 28, 1311


The second attack occurs within a week of the first, organized by Lady Hinata and led by Shikamaru. Scouts from regular patrol reported activity on the southmost order just before the land of Tea. Sightings of rogues from Mist were seen in the Fishing Village and Shikamaru made the unilateral decision to perform a little clean up on that end.

The trip from one corner of Fire Country to the next had taken him two weeks, spent on the road and filled with nothing but strategizing. By the time he'd passed through the north, taking an old friend for the ride, and into the south, he had approximately two days of reprieve.

On one of these days, he'd spent time gazing eastward from one of the castle's balconies, watching as the distant skies above the seas brewed—remnants of Whirlpool's constant storms. They're usually only visible northeast from where he stands except for twice a day when the hurricanes weaken close to Hyuuga.

They're beautiful, he thinks, because they bring copious amounts of furious clouds and the air becomes rich with seawater and freedom.

Taking a sweet, long drag of the cigarette offered to him from his mentor's tin, he flicks the ash against the breeze and glances at Asuma. For the better part of five minutes they've been silent, the older man contemplating the plan he'd just heard.

Then he eases back, corded muscles straining from their earlier spar. A soft, heavy grunt rattles with his exhale and he pulls the blunt from his mouth, blowing smoke.

"Surely you'd need a little strength in numbers," he finally says as an afterthought. "I could come."

Shikamaru shakes his head, lips around his roll. "This isn't mean to be a full-scale attack, Asuma. You stay here." A flick; smoke. "You could call it 'poking a sleeping bear.'"

His mentor makes a noise, crossed between understanding and disapproval. Of course, having the two of them on the field for an ambush is a bit overkill, so he simply warns, "You'll get bitten if you aren't careful." Asuma puts out his spent blunt, leaving it in the glass dish between them. He stares out into the horizon, watching the clouds tumble in like titans of the sky. "A seaside attack, hm."

"Genius, isn't it?" Shikamaru leans against the railing, inhaling one last time before punching his cigarette into the dish. "Lady Haruno came up with it."

"Lady Haruno? Lord Uchiha's ex-wife?"

"That's the one." Shikamaru chuckles softly, huffing a plume from his mouth. "A head on her shoulders, that one. She asked to draft the declaration, you know. I suspected she was delaying it though."

Asuma smirks softly at that. "That doesn't happen to have anything to do with the coast, does it?"

"The routes have no choice but to stay open. Forming a shore blockade on our water is an act of war."

Therefore they'd travel through the coasts, attack at the border between Fire and Tea. Tea, unlike the Whirlpool Mountains just before Hot Water, is an isolated country. There would be no room to run.

"Smart." Asuma looks thoughtful. Then his hand is on his old student's shoulder, the weight comforting. Shikamaru regards him in question. "But you should still be careful. Lord Pein's a former student of Master Jiraiya and the intel doesn't speak of an idiot, Shikamaru. We're not even sure he'll be playing by those rules."

Shikamaru nods. "We thought about that too. That's why this attack is happening now. If we sabotage their early camps in Tea then we regain mobility in the south. We should still have a few days in advance though; Lady Haruno has a mole planted in Rain."

"A mole?"

"Unnamed. Sent out the same night we raided her birthday party."

Asuma hums in amusement and no more. Of course; as much as Lady Tsunade has a penchant for liquor and gambling, the woman's astute, forward-thinking, practically terrifying. Conversely, Lord Dan had been calm, collected, level-headed. Intelligent, on par with Lord Minato. It's no surprise their daughter would be a culmination of both.

Side by side, the two watch as the distant storm disperses, the sky still grey with terror but the sea, still.

"Any reports on the veterans?"

"Gai and Hayate are preparing the Hyuuga cavalry as we speak. Retraining, you could say. A group of the ready are on standby for tomorrow," Asuma replies. "Kurenai and Yugao are heading down from Lady Hinata's lands."

"Will Kurenai be alright?" Shikamaru sees the woman as something of an aunt, if he could be so bold as to believe Asuma like an uncle. The complications prior to Mirai's birth had made him nervous, scared for the frail baby, and then relieved after hearing of no problems. But the child is barely a month and he has already called her father away.

As if hearing his mind, Asuma chuckles softly. "Trust me, it was her idea. Mirai is safest in the north and Lady Hanabi will care for her. Kurenai won't be frontlining."

"She won't?"

"No."

Shikamaru sees it as somewhat of a loss, but one with good reason. Kurenai is valuable in the art of manipulation, skilled in using tight spaces as a method of throwing off opponents. Half the battles will take place in Fire's many forests and the trees are her greatest battlegrounds. In the last war she was known to drive camped enemies insane and towards the brink of suicide, turning the isolation of the canopies against them. Mania, they would call her, goddess of Madness.

But Kurenai is also a mother, in the most important stages of her baby's birth. She will be missed in the coming war.

"So why is she coming down here then?"

"Bringing her personal project for show and tell." Asuma snorts softly. "She's been training a group of soldiers in similar deception tactics. Said she's hoping to drill them a little more before handing them off to Lord Uchiha to be polished in the battles against Itachi."

Seeing as the Uchiha are known for their piercing, sharpshooter's eyes, this would be valuable. "How long until they're ready?"

"As long as you can give them."

"Hm." Shikamaru mentally notes the extra piece on the board. While able to make counters for almost every possible attack their way, this war would skim very, very close between victors. Each counter has another, each side has a sleeve full of tricks and the uncertainty makes him frown.

Asuma slides his eyes away from the expressions on his student's face. "Any specialists we should be aware of that might frontline?"

"Genma, Iwashi, and Raido from Senju," Shikamaru replies, remembering the faces of the three blademasters. They'd once been citizens of Namikaze, guards for Naruto's father in the past but choosing to follow Tsunade after Lord Minato's death, their positions relieved by Jiraiya, then most recently, Asuma's nephew and his two eccentric friends. "Kakashi from Uchiha."

Asuma grumbles deep in his chest, remembering his old friend and the esteemed veteran. All those years ago, despite fighting the same fight, Kakashi outranked them all. He was different then, cold, machine-like, a terror on the fields. Commander White Fang, who unhinged his jaw and filled his belly with the meat and bones of the enemy.

The years have tempered him but not softened him—Asuma knows this. War is hard to erase when it's assimilated with you.

"Kakashi mentioned some mercenaries," Shikamaru continues, "A Senju-born duo that works for Uchiha now. They were dispatched at the end of last year for another assignment so now it's a matter of getting in touch with them. There are a few other veterans we're still waiting on."

"What about Anko?"

"Anko Mitarashi?" Shikamaru pauses on that thought, then shrugs. "Still AWOL."

The sky is clear now but not really. The clouds have spread so thin that they're almost a fog, hazy above the seas, grey and diffusing the sunlight until it's nothing more than an eerie glow.

"You know," the older man says faintly, the air salty and still, "Shikaku would have killed to be a part of this war council." The words are fond and Shikamaru's mouth tilts upwards sadly at the truth. "Rather than that sword, a heart attack would've sent him into the grave instead after learning his own son managed to get into Senju. Orochimaru ruined it for all of us. You know we thought we'd ever reenter that place after the walls were built?"

"I can imagine," Shikamaru says, smiling.


The following day, the attack is carried out. Long after the sun has set, Shikamaru leads a band of twenty between the trees, then alongside the coast hugging Hyuuga's land. Their cloaks are beige and grey, matched to the white sands underfoot to hide movement against the moon's reflection alighting the seas.

Underneath their garbs are clothes made of reinforced mesh and lightweight armor, impenetrable by arrows and strong enough against the swing of a sword. Dull green to blend with the humid plains of Tea Country.

Shikamaru gazes sharply through the haze of darkness, aided only by the overhead light. The beaches are empty, the waters sloshing softly back and forth with the high tide. Calculating the distance to the border, he catches a thicket of tall trees in the distance, mounted on the humped back of land.

Since when was there an island on this side?

But the thought is violently interrupted by a series of trills, high, rapid, and suddenly the beaches are moving.

The waters part and from within do more than double the size of their party crawl out, dumpling their primitive breathing gear with practiced ease. Mist rogues, he thinks in panic, drawing his sword and shouting orders to defend. Only the Mist-born own gear and lungs like that.

Their intel had been wrong.

And damn it all, Asuma had been right. Lord Pein is acting out of war without regard for the unwritten rules.

Changing thought, he pitches one high whistle, two lows, and another high. Their laughable numbers turn and head back into the trees, gritting teeth against the necessary retreat. Some are not so fortunate, having to wield their swords in defense and Shikamaru jumps into the fray, countering as many fights as possible to buy his soldiers time to run.

Once the last is safely in the treeline, he turns to make a run for it when a sharp, piercing pain blooms in his left shoulder. Caught off guard by the hit, he turns and jabs his sword in a punishing plunge. A spray of blood follows, his blade punching a hole into the enemy soldier's throat.

Ignoring the choked off sound of someone drowning, he pushes the body away and is immediately met with another swinging set of daggers. He deflects as best as he can, parries with a lunge but oversteps the arch with a shorter blade and gets caught, sleeve ripping with the force of a heavy slice cutting skin and muscle open.

Hissing, he flips his blade in a reverse grip and stabs down, getting the rogue in the foot. The man yowls, center of gravity curling and he leans forward to grip the injury but Shikamaru is already wedging the sword out, butting the hilt against the man's jaw and crunching teeth with teeth.

He's caught again in the side by a set of throwing knives wedged into his armor, and an arrow skims the skin of his neck.. He's quickly becoming overwhelmed and his arm is beginning to throb, the joint drilled.

"Shikamaru!"

Galloping hooves and the metallic song of a heavy broadsword sweeps through the enemies around him, widening the circle. A hand takes him by the collar of his undershirt, pulls him up and he regains his bearings enough to flex his thighs and hold on.

Arrows follow after them but the trees thicken and the canopy of their home gives them cover. Other horses convene, treading side by side like spirits of the forest.

"I thought I—ugh—told you not to come," he struggles to say, coughing wetly. The cuff of his shirt comes away with blood and Asuma steers his stead into a lighter, smoother run, careful not to jostle his injured student.

"Idiot boy," Asuma says without turning around. Shikamaru squints through the pain, gazes at the broad, reassuring back of his old mentor, one of his greatest friends. His voice is thick with reprimand but coated in relief. "You're stupid if you think you don't need me."

And so, injured, the second attack is a failure.


Senju Kingdom, Fire Country
May 5, 1311


Shikamaru is brought into Southern Hyuuga's castle to recuperate while Asuma strengthens their defense. With Lord Pein blatantly disregarding the unwritten rules and a swarm on the lowest front, the kingdom would need to be tightened down. Evacuations of the most in danger have begun.

The news of the ambush was sent on Senju's fastest messenger bird and within a day of receiving, Neji departed for Hyuuga to reclaim crownhood and stand by his fallen advisor. Sasuke and the remaining crowns would follow after him several days later to reconvene.

While preparing for the journey, Sakura speaks with her mother in her study, lips twisted in thought. She'd just told her of their newest plan and Tsunade has yet to say anything about it. Instead, Sakura is subjected to a scrutinizing, unreadable stare, reminiscent of her tween days when her mother started training her in the art of battle.

Although she supposes it's to be expected—that look. The very thought of what's to come even has Sakura wary.

The only other time she'd left the walls was for marriage and look at how that had turned out. All her life had been lived solely for and within these walls—and that's said without bitterness, but with factuality. Truth.

She's far from stupid but the world is a scary thing, cruel for the naïve and the unaware.

Her mother's unwavering, honey-wine stare is beginning to grow uncomfortably intense and she opens her mouth to speak.

"Sakura."

Her mouth clamps shut.

She hopes it won't be refutation that will meet her. This is necessary for the betterment of their people, she resolutely thinks. Just like that marriage. Tsunade is protective, strong, terrifying, but just like letting her go to marry a stranger, she'll have to let her go for this, too.

She has to. They have lives to protect.

"You're a ruler. Your word is law."

Yes, it—what—

Tsunade's laugh is dry, humorless. Sakura embarrassingly closes her mouth, jaw unhinged in bewilderment. "Don't give me that look," Tsunade says with a scoff, setting her half-finished cup of honey wine down. "You thought I'd try to stop you?"

"You've never been open to the idea of me leaving," Sakura points out. The woman hums noncommittally.

"Every bird needs to leave the nest someday, whether or not their mother wants them to." She smiles, the expression almost sad. "Sakura, you're all I have."

And like every single conversation they've ever had since the day she was born, Sakura understands her mother. Always. She reaches out and knits their fingers together and in a rare show of physical affection, Tsunade's hand is the one to strengthen their hold.

"Every day," the former queen says with bittersweet fondness, "you become more and more like your father." With her free hand, she pokes at Sakura's forehead, right at the diamond tattoo, and says, "This part of you might be mine, but this," she points at her chest, the space that beats, "this is his."

Dan Haruno, with eyes like darkened silver and a heart of polished gold.

"Unlike your father, I'm selfish," Tsunade continues. "I'm scared of the world and what it could do to you, but I know I'm wrong. My Sakura, you have so much to offer it."

She reaches out to kiss her daughter's forehead, smiles into the action and brushes her hair away like she used to do. Sakura revels in the touch, the comfort, feels small and young in her mother's hands.

"You're a gift. If you need to go and protect your people, you go do it. Whether it's inside these walls or not, it's your decision and yours alone." Leaning away, undoing their holds, Tsunade looks down at her happiness, the symbol of her and Dan's love. She flicks the gathering tears away. "It has been an honor calling you mine, but your life is yours. Do what must be done."

"Mother," Sakura says reverently. She misses her touch. "I..."

"Expected more of a fight?" The woman's smile is joking but the firelight morphs it into something wistful. "My mistakes are your stepping stones, Sakura."

Sakura knows this story. She's heard it from the point of view of a child hearing a fairytale, told by Shizune in her pre-teen years but as time passed, the characters began taking shape, their names clearer and clearer until the mains are those of her mother and father.

Tsunade Senju, one of three Legendary Sages, Hygieia, the goddess of healing, wellness, medicine. Her skill with a broadsword is hailed as one of the greatest, strength even greater. She would decimate whole squads by the swing of her blade alone.

But in the war, it had been fear that tapered her momentum into something thin and breakable at the end. In the thick of things, she'd lost her brother to a sword she could've blocked if she hadn't asked him to stop and take a knee, rest his arm. His head had been sawed off his neck before her. Since then, her stomach lost itself at the sight of blood.

She feared this so heavily—loss was her kryptonite. It made her terrified some days, paranoid on the worst of it. It only proved to give her more heartache on the day she lost Dan. She retired shortly before then from the frontlines but Dan insisted on going out there, on helping the other soldiers, Minato, Fugaku, the Hyuuga twins. He insisted but she was so scared.

So she stayed and he kissed her, told her with an affectionate smile that he loved her, loved little Sakura and that he would be home soon.

He did make it home.

Wrapped up in a tarp and their banner, like the rest of the corpses.

She regrets that day heavily, knew that if she'd gone out on the field with him that her healing hand would have pulled out the sword that missed his heart by inches, then pulled out the poison that finished him off. She might've even saved Fugaku, who died bleeding out after having his arm shorn off at the shoulder. Minato, who died to daggers buried in his back, left in Frost to rot in the cold.

She could have but she didn't, and she carries the burden in her heart. When will they all stop being orphans from so young?

"Don't make my mistake. Don't let this war reach the world. End it here in Fire," she says solemnly, gazing at her greatest love, sweetest gift. "Don't hesitate. Follow your heart, Sakura, it was your father's once and he's never been wrong."

They cry, mother and daughter. Mourn the loss of the man they love and later that night when Sakura retires before their departure in the morning, she returns to her room and sees a gift at the end of her bed.

Pushing the red and gold silks aside, her eyes burn like thunderstorms—all-consuming, powerful.

Her father had been a gladiator, she likes to think. A might on the field, a terror, championed by the gods. She would make him proud, make the earths shake, make the titans stir in their sleep.

And this sword—Dan Haruno's sword—will be the thing she uses to slay them.


This chapter's huge, holy crap. Revised 01/24/21.

- burrblefish