A/N: The king finally learns of the massacre.


The next morning, after a fitful sleep, Fugaku awoke to his wife's back, rising and falling peacefully.

For a moment, his heart sank with relief. The past twenty-four hours had been a nightmare he didn't want to repeat. He'd thought his wife had been gone for good.

When he touched her shoulder, the rise of her body faltered for a moment, before she rolled over to smile endearingly at him.

"Morning," she sleepily whispered, pressing a kiss to his nose. "I'm sorry I didn't come back before you went to bed last night."

"I'm just happy you're all right," he responded, shakily pulling her to his chest. He kissed the top of her head and they lay there for a few moments more, basking in the relief of being in one another's arms again.

When she stretched and reminded him that they needed to be up, he reluctantly agreed. At the very least, he fondly watched as she went about to get ready for the day, happily helping her lace up the back of her dress and pecking kisses up her spine as he went.

She giggled and teased him for that, to which his cheeks lit up and he began sputtering. She simply shook her head in amusement and got him out of bed to bathe and dress.

The morning had gotten off to a wonderful start so far, and he was hoping that it would continue to stay that way.

He hummed a song popular in the capital as he made his way to the throne room, his wife at his side. A smile curled her painted lips and her slender fingers brushed against his knuckles.

They reached the big double-doors and, with eager looks to each other, just like they did every morning since their marriage first began, they reached out and each took a door handle, pulling them open in sync.

It was a small matter, but it was something that made his heart swell with pride. Through the war and the death, he still had his wife at his side. He still had a son. That was enough to make his chest warm.

As he finally strode up and settled down in his throne, however, a messenger burst into the room, eyes wide and pale, panting raggedly.

He stood, onyx eyes filled with concern. "What's the hurry, page?"

"Muh- message from Morino, your excellency," he shakily bowed at the waist, clutching at his chest as he stumbled forward, seemingly lightheaded. His neck was wrapped tightly with white bandages, and his eyes were wild with fear.

Fugaku stiffened, and he only barely caught Mikoto's face deepening in a frown for a few seconds before she regained her blank expression.

"What is it? Speak!" He demanded.

"I- It's gone, my king," the page stammered as he fell to his knees. "It was torched to the ground. The citizens are dead. Nothing remains in the area but smoldering charcoal. I... I have lost my dear father in the attack as well."

Fugaku's heart clenched, and he had to sit down as a heavy sigh escaped his lips.

He loved Morino. It was his favorite vacation spot, and the place he was planning to bequeath to his heir when they took the throne. His closest friends had been born and raised - and killed - there.

He straightened up on the throne as the guards appeared, helping the messenger to his feet.

The messenger - hardly more than a mere boy, a teenager his son's age - was still shaky, though he didn't clutch at his chest anymore. He appeared to be calming down slowly, but the moment he locked eyes with the queen, he blanched, taking a stunned step back into the arms of the guards... like he recognized her...?

Fugaku frowned, sparing a look at Mikoto. While her face was as passive as ever, there was a hidden gleam to her eyes, a secretive, troubled contemplation to seeing the boy's reaction. She recognized him.

He quickly put two and two together and sighed once more, waving his hand. "Guards, see to it that he gets a room at the inn and enough money and food for a trip to Yugakure. You will begin a new life there and take a sum of money for your troubles."

"Yes, my king," the two men saluted in unison.

"T- thank you, my king," the boy jerkily bowed again, with only the guards to make sure he didn't tumble forward. "You are too kind."

"I loved Morino as you have," he replied dismissively. "It is admirable that you escaped such a tragic event. It's the least I can do for a boy with your bravery and tenacity."

The guards tugged, not unkindly, at the boy's arms, leading him out of the throne room. The moment they were gone, Fugaku turned to his wife with a questioning frown.

"Mikoto, what have you done?" He asked, unable to stop the disappointment and hurt creeping into his voice. He couldn't even recognize the face that blatantly avoided meeting his. "You've torn a family asunder in the name of the Uchiha?"

"I have saved us from sure destruction," she answered simply, giving him a sharp glance for a moment before staring straight ahead. If he stared long enough, he could see the pain in her eyes. "I have done what you could not."


Later in the day, Shien was in the private gardens, singing quietly to herself as she plucked a cotton-topped dandelion from the grass.

She paused for a moment, closing her eyes to wish. "I wish for luck in my mission."

As she opened her eyes and blew the seeds away gently, she hardly noticed the woman standing behind her until a gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder.

She flinched at the contact, cursing herself for not realizing that someone else was there. The stem dropped from her hands as she looked up, meeting mellow black eyes.

Confusion, followed by relief flooded her as she recognized Sasuke's mother as she smiled gently at her.

"Good afternoon, dear," she greeted pleasantly. "Lovely day today. Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all, madam," she shook her head, scooting over on the bench. "By all means, please rest."

"Thank you." The middle-aged woman sat down, and all at once Shien was struck with how quickly she seemed to be aging. Though her hair was still a soft black and her face was relatively wrinkle-free, the bags under her eyes and the way her lips seemed to softly downturn made her give her a worried stare.

"I can sense your curiosity," she chuckled, running her fingers along the polished wood. "I mean no harm to you. If there's something you want to ask me, then please do."

Her disarming smile didn't soothe Shien's worry, but she nodded and returned it with her own.

"I am..." the pinkette trailed off, "... well, honestly, I'm not quite sure about who I am."

"Oh?" The woman hummed. "Do tell."

"Well," Shien tucked a hair behind her ear with a soft sigh. "I'm here for a... special purpose. I need to help Sasuke and Naruto, but with Riot's activities, I'm not quite sure about what to do."

"Are you wishing to escape?" The woman asked, raising a delicate black eyebrow.

"No," she immediately replied. Then she hesitated. "I mean... yes? I mean, I just don't know. I want to be able to protect someone very important to me from death, but... I feel a horrible storm coming."

"Ah, I see," she chuckled, resting her hands atop her knee. "My my, what a dilemma for one so young. And this 'very important person', might it be...?"

Her cheeks burned, and she looked away with a frown. "I... admittedly, I have fallen in love with the prince."

"As have many before you," the woman added with a nod.

"But it is never to be," Shien continued, her shoulders falling. "He is the crown prince, and I... I am but a lady from a minor house. Even if he returned my feelings, and even if we ever eloped in secret, our union would never be blessed."

The woman nodded thoughtfully once more. "You are not the only one, dear. I, too, have felt the storm coming."

"So there is going to be war?" She looked up, almost fearfully, into the woman's dark, probing eyes. It seemed like she was looking straight through her. To call it perturbing would be an understatement.

"I am certain," the older woman clarified. "And, as it is now, I'm afraid you only have two choices."

Shien nodded slowly, looking down at her lap.

"Either you help protect your important one, or you leave him to die." The woman's voice seemed harsher now, as if she was displeased. When Shien looked back at her, she noted the woman's pretty face pulled into a frown.

"I would never leave him to die," she vowed, her chartreuse eyes hard. "I... I love him too much to let Riot kill him."

"And what of his friend, Namikaze?" The woman challenged, leaning forward.

Shien faltered. "He's... he's very dear to me too." She lost the wind from her sails as she sank against the back of the bench. "I love him as if he were my own flesh and blood. Of course I would not leave them."

The woman hummed once more, resting her hands against the armrest of the bench. "If you must choose between leaving with your life or laying it down to save theirs, would you sacrifice yourself?"

"I would not even need to choose," she immediately answered. "I... I know it seems concerning, but... I would never choose to escape with my life if it meant they would live."

"Ah, a vaguely concerning desire to sacrifice yourself for someone dear," the woman mused, a smile tugging at her rose-painted lips. "I recall wishing to do that, once."

"For someone you loved more than your own life?" She asked, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Of course," the woman chuckled. "He was my oldest son. I loved him more than anyone in the world - save for my husband and younger, of course. There came a day when I was forced to choose between sure destruction of our family and letting him go."

"And... you let him go," Shien exhaled.

"I wished to see my child live, regardless of where he went," the woman confirmed with a wistful frown at the bright sky. "While I wanted nothing more than to keep him safe with his brother, I had no choice but to let him leave. I was given no choice to give up my life for his; it was either all, or none."

A shaky sigh escaped her curled lips. "I was inconsolable for weeks. My husband - bless his soul - did his utmost to cheer us all up, but there was nothing to be done. We mourned the loss of our eldest for weeks - months."

"I'm... I'm so sorry, ma'am," Shien breathed, gazing at her in wonder. "You've been through so much..."

She chuckled, waving it off. "Merely an old fool's bitterness at her decisions, and nothing more."

"You are not," she shook her head.

"And now you flatter me," she teased with a soft chuckle. "I'm not as young as I used to be, Hayashi-chan. I'm a woman of forty-six now; quite old, I'm afraid."

As she went to stand up, Shien immediately got to her feet and helped her up. As the girl's warm, soft hands left her, she secretly smiled.

"I wish you luck in your pursuit of love, young miss," she stated as she leaned forward. "I must also extend a personal invitation to the king's chambers at sundown."

"T- the king?" Shien felt like she'd been punched. "Whatever for?"

"That is for you to find out, my dear." The woman smiled reticently at her before turning. "Alas, I must leave you. But make certain that you take care of my boy. Without someone like you, I fear for where his path in life will lead him. I cannot afford to bury my only remaining son while I still live."

"I- I will," Shien promised as she watched, dumbstruck, as the woman strode away with a certain weariness to her gait. Though her shoulders were squared and her posture was poised, the effects of time seemed to weigh her down just a bit more than usual… and it didn't seem to just be because she was middle-aged.


A/N: Because I neglected to mention it when we reached the halfway point, as soon as this book is completed here, I'll be deleting the AO3 version. I feel it's better-suited for this account rather than that one. I hope any readers of both will understand.

Please tell me what you thought.