The woman's breath was ragged as she ran, bullets fired from behind narrowly missing her narrow, malnourished frame. There was already a bullet embedded in the soft flesh of her left shoulder, and it would do her no good to be wounded further. Saliva dribbled from her mouth as she panted, freezing in the chill before it hit the ground.

She let out a sob when a bullet grazed her leg, making her stumble. Boots clicked behind her—the soldiers were getting closer, and she was slowing from the wound in her calf.

But she had one advantage that they didn't have—she'd lived all her life in Akatsuki, while the invaders had spent less than a month getting themselves settled in. The woman took a detour, one that she was intimately familiar with. She pressed her back against the wall, tears staining her cheeks and her bladder threatening to loosen as the soldiers passed her, none the wiser.

"Dammit, where is she?!" the soldiers spoke a language that wasn't native to Amegakure, but the recently self-liberated female was sharp, and she'd spent her time in captivity picking up on the Tsukigakure people's tongue.

"I think she went this way. Hurry the hell up!"

"Right!"

Her legs shaking, the woman slid down the wall, making her spine—which visibly pressed against her pale skin and thin robes—ache. But it was nothing that she couldn't handle—the still-healing lashes running across her back were testimony of her torture.

"I'm so screwed," she sobbed quietly, wiping at her eyes and mouth with her dirty hands. "Goddammit...!"

Tears still streaming from her eyes, she tilted her head skyward to look at the grey sky before her. She had no sense of time left in her, though she suspected that it was nearly sunset. The skies had been perpetually grey since the invaders took hold of Akatsuki. Winters were always morose, but the cold season this time around was more sullen than usual.

There was no use in simply sitting there and waiting to be recaptured, she decided, and stood up on wobbly, too-thin legs. She made her way down the rest of the detour, limping thanks to the fresh, bleeding injury in her calf. Thank the gods that it hadn't started snowing yet—she didn't need to be sold out by her own trail of blood on the ice.

For the first time in three weeks, she was tasting fresh air. Her hair was once a beautiful blonde that was the envy of many of the city's women, but now...

She couldn't tell whether the majority of the dirt on her hands was already there to begin with or had come from passing her hands too many times through her hair in times of great stress.

I was cultured, she had thought bitterly. A true, fine lady. I had pride. Men twice my age were after my dowry. But my father is dead, and I have yet to see my sister again.

Her lip wobbled. What was pride in the face of what she had suffered? The indignities she had willingly put herself through just for a bite to eat. Nausea stirred in her gut, and she stopped to puke across the alleyway ground. There was hardly anything regurgitated—just mucus and water. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. She suspected that it was sometime last week.

The beautiful figure she had cultivated with dieting and exercise was ruined, but such trivial matters were the last thing on her mind. What she needed right now was safety and food.

A near-silent footfall reached her ears and she froze, pale blue eyes widened in fear. No, no, no! NO! She whipped her head around frantically to search for something sharp or heavy. There was nothing. Just the half-frozen puddle of vomit at her feet.

The footsteps came to a halt. Then a distinctly female voice called out gently into the night, "Ino? Is... is that you?"

Ino. Yes, that was her name. She'd almost forgotten. Had left it behind three weeks ago, in her father's glorious manor. The woman—no, teenager, felt something akin to electricity surge through her as she added her name to her identity again.

"Sa... Sakura?" Ino whispered, turning around to show the other woman the lines beneath her pale blue eyes.

The other woman pulled down the hood of her brown cloak, revealing black hair—black hair that was cut into the same hairstyle as Sakura's. She had brilliant green eyes, and a mouth that was used to being pursed thanks to all the insufferable martial artists she was used to healing.

Of course, Ino thought dazedly. She's Tsunade of the Sannin's apprentice. Her pink hair makes her too recognizable.

Sakura tentatively approached her, treating her like a scared animal. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "Ino. Ino-pig, it's okay. I've got you now."

Ino stared at her, expressionless. Then, choking down a sob, she leaped into Sakura's arms, releasing that sob with a violent half-cough half-snort.

"Shh... Shh, Ino... I'm going to bring you somewhere safe. I promise. It's not too far from where we are now. I can't believe you came all the way here on your own... I'm so proud of you, Ino," Sakura whispered soothingly into her ear. "You've always been a fighter."

A blonde woman meandered down the street, her posture tense despite the vicinity being mostly empty. She was wearing all black, from her tunic and pants to her cloak. It wasn't a color she preferred over every other hue, for she claimed it made her feel like she was about to go to someone's funeral, but she was left with little choice.

All her other clothes besides the sleepwear she had worn that night had been burned along with her apartment when the Tsukigakure soldiers invaded. She had scrounged up this outfit with the meager savings that she had been able to take with her before her forced eviction.

Deidara lifted her cold hands to her mouth, expelling a breath of hot air. The lips on her palms were chapped and blue, preventing her from creating any clay. She kept her clay on her person at all times, and it had yet to run out.

It was used sparingly nowadays.

Compared to others, Deidara had relocated rather quickly, fleeing to the other side of the city, where the soldiers were less trigger-happy and more about serious marching and whatnot. She could tell apart the ones who gave their hearts to their duty and those who were corrupt—and being a woman in a district full of corrupt, armed soldiers was a death wish, so she'd turned tail as soon as she could.

She did not dare wander too close to the city's heart, where the Nohara-Uchiha cotton mill was located. At least, not on days like these, where it was foggy and she could barely see one-hundred feet in front of her nose.

Deidara was alone. Completely and utterly alone in the decrepit apartment she now lived in. She agreed with the self-suggested notion that she was going to lose her mind sooner or later, for all she could do all day was chop wood and toss them in her rickety furnace. It was either that or freezing to death.

Beneath her cloak, she hugged herself, shivering as the cold bit into her skin. Her attire was warm, but not warm enough for the wintry chill that had descended upon the once prosperous Akatsuki.

The folds of her cloak parted as she lifted her hands to her mouth once again to keep frostbite away.

Her belly growled—she'd been living on nothing but meager amounts of rations and rice for the past three weeks. Her food had run out yesterday, and there she forced herself to leave her new home in order to search for food.

Nothing was open. No restaurants, no shops.

Deidara gritted her teeth when her stomach complained again. She'd lost weight—not as much as others, but the weight loss was still there, and she briefly mourned the fit and powerful body she had traded for this shaking mess.

Sasori would have surely snarked her for it, for the deterioration of her body went against his view on art.

Sasori.

Deidara blinked, wiping dust from her right eye. I wonder how he's doing. Is he well? Or barely scraping through like me? Whatever it is, I hope he's surviving, un. Lost in her thoughts, she spluttered when she walked right into a rag hanging from one of the store signs. Stepping backward, she scowled immediately upon realizing just what it was.

A Tsukigakure flag.

As if the emblem of the Moon Country would summon soldiers, Deidara pulled the hood of her cloak forward, not liking how her field of vision was further narrowed. She raised her arm to the push the damned thing out of her way, continuing on her search for some kind of store, or perhaps someone to steal from.

Deidara circled the entire district in no time at all, and her belly remained empty. What I wouldn't do for some of Chiyo-baa's chicken rice... The thought of the mouthwatering, silky chicken did little to quell her hunger pangs, and only worked to sour her already sullen mood.

She returned to the flag hanging on the store sign by its metal pole. Feeling dirtier than she already was—her new apartment had no hot water, and since it was so cold, she refrained from bathing as much as she could to conserve body heat—she grabbed the flagpole and flooded her arms with chakra, yanking it out of its place.

It was surprisingly light, but the metalwork was of good quality. She felt no guilt when she smashed the end of the pole into a closed down store. Simply exploding it or punching it until it exploded would have attracted too much attention.

Not that smashing the hammered-up windows was subtle, either.

The wood gave way to glass, and the glass gave way to an empty space. Perfect.

Deidara wriggled through the window, careful not to cut herself on any stray shards. An infected wound was just about the last thing she needed right now. The shop was just as frigid as the weather outside, and Deidara rummaged through boxes of miscellaneous items before finally discovering some bags of rice in the very back of a shelf.

She left the store with two bags of rice over either shoulder, and her heart feeling lighter than it had been in days.

She had dropped off the rice at her apartment and was going back for more—what she wouldn't do right now to have Sasori's skill in chakra string manipulation—when a wailing reached her ears.

It was muffled, as if they didn't want to be heard.

Or were being prevented from being heard.

Nevertheless, someone had heard, and Deidara's natural curiosity reared its head. Her mind made up, she cautiously approached the noisemaker, her boots silent as she moved.

The fog cleared just enough for Deidara to catch sight of two Tsukigakure soldiers kicking a shivering form on the ground.

I should go, Deidara thought absently. I can't compromise my position for a stranger.

That would have been the logical thing to do, at any rate, but Deidara had been famed for her brazen and rash nature during her time as part of the Big 4.

Deidara glided toward them like a ghost in the wind, the winter breeze flapping her cloak around. In the fog, she looked like a shroud of vengeance. The soldiers would have certainly thought so had their backs not been faced toward her.

She disposed of them quickly and quietly. They were not dead, merely unconscious—it would be too dangerous if two soldiers in the Tsukigakure faction suddenly went missing in such a quiet place. The last thing Deidara needed was to be suspected to be a rogue taijutsu user and executed by firing squad.

Who would eat all the rice she had collected? The rats?

Deidara gazed impassively at the limp form curled on the ground before making sure that the two had massive bruises on their faces, courtesy of her fists. She had smelled the alcohol on their breaths the moment she neared them, and she knew that their superiors would not take kindly to them reappearing completely buzzed with their faces busted.

Alcohol was blamed for many things, and Deidara couldn't help but appreciate that, if only momentarily.

The person—child; no, girl—was still breathing, though the rise and fall of her chest was shallow. Her right cheek had boot-prints stamped on while her frail arms were beginning to bruise.

"Yare yare..." Deidara frowned at the girl, unable to make out her face thanks to the matted brown hair falling across her eyes and nose. "What a pain, un..." But I can't just leave her like this. So, cursing her soft heart, she picked up the girl and made her way home, the extra bags of rice forgotten for now.

She'd have to come back out later before curfew, especially since that she had an extra mouth to feed.

Sighing, Deidara looked heavenward, wondering when everything had gone so, so wrong.

The grey clouds stretched overhead in every part of the city—Deidara and Ino weren't the only ones who looked appealingly to the sky that day for some kind of sign.

Naruto didn't complain as he cranked the machine, spinning the cotton that the large metal bucket contained. The white fluff went up and down, up and down, like energy in a transversal wave.

Konohamaru, Moegi, and Udon were working in another part of the factory today, doing a job that put their small hands to use. When Udon went past Naruto to get a rag, the boy saw the black smudge on his face and concluded that his three kohais were doing some kind of repair on one of the other machines.

"You all can go home now!" their supervisor announced a few hours later, when the time was approaching eleven o'clock. "Excellent work, everyone."

Normally, such an announcement would excite Naruto, but that would only happen now if he had a proper place to sleep.

Konohamaru, Udon, and Moegi were in the same position. The apartments that the Nohara-Uchiha family had provided for their orphan workers free of charge had all been destroyed, or at least partly destroyed.

Their supervisor, Iruka, gave them a sympathetic look as he locked up for the night, a knowing look in his eye when the orphans remained behind.

"Make sure that you use the blankets over there," Iruka advised before the last non-orphan worker left and he had to lock up. "Goodnight, everyone. Keep warm and don't sleep near the equipment."

"Yes, Iruka-san," the orphans chorused. There was no returning to the orphanage for them—when they had left to work, the matron's parting words had ensured them that they would no longer have any place at the orphanage.

Iruka let out a deep sigh before smiling crookedly. "Goodnight, guys." Then the door slid shut and locked, leaving the children in total darkness, save for a sliver of moonlight from an open window.

There was a crack and a hiss, and Tenten's face appeared in the darkness, glowing orange from the match she held close. Someone pushed a short candle forward, stubby from many nights of use, and Tenten held the match near the wick of the candle until it finally caught fire.

The flame burned brightly in the dark, and the youngsters all huddled around it, sharing their body heat with one another.

"Tenten," an orphan wearing a green tunic said. His name was Rock Lee, and he hadn't much happiness in his life, being born without developed chakra coils. When he wasn't working, he was developing his own martial arts style, hoping to become as good as the Big 4 someday. He especially looked up to Gai, but they'd never exchanged a word to each other due to Lee's working times clashing with the hours Gai tended to show up during.

Nobody had seen Gai since the night of the attack. The same went for Kakashi.

"Yes, Lee?" Tenten whispered back, rolling her shoulder to get comfortable when a younger child clung onto her white-sleeved arm.

"It's very cold," Lee admitted to her, running a hand through his untamed, spiked hair. "Could you by any chance pass that blanket over there?"

Tenten nodded, eyes warm. "Of course, Lee. Here." She passed a brown blanket to him, which he then spread over his and Konohomaru's—the younger boy was sitting next to him—shoulders

"Anything happen today?" Moegi asked. "Any news on the outsiders and the war?"

She was talking to Naruto, who normally went outside during his break despite being advised not to. He was male, civilian enough, and young enough that the Tsukigakure soldiers paid him no heed.

"Nah, nothin'," Naruto said with the shake of his head. "But I'll be sure to let you know if something happens, dattebayo."

There were a total of seven orphans that worked in the factory. Tenten and Lee were the oldest, followed by Naruto, then Konohamaru and his friends, Moegi and Udon. The youngest was the little girl who was still attached to Tenten's arm, Chihiro. She was nine years old, while the rest were already in their double digits.

She was slowly nodding off, her head on Tenten's shoulder.

"I miss Daichi," Udon said suddenly, looking a little embarrassed. "He was kinda full of himself, but he wasn't bad or anything..."

"He was a good kid," Naruto agreed. "I wonder how he's doing?"

"Last time I heard, he was training in kenjutsu with the Chief of Police's son," Moegi put in, thoughtful.

"Hah? Sasuke-teme?!" Naruto shouted.

Tenten shushed him sharply, jerking her chin at the girl fast asleep on her shoulder. "Not so loud, you idiot."

"Sorry," Naruto muttered, having the grace to at least look a little ashamed. Kakashi's Thousand Years of Death had certainly humbled him.

They made idle chat after that, dropping off to sleep one by one, until Naruto was the only one still awake.

Naruto rolled to his side, careful not to jostle Udon, who he was sharing his blanket with. It was barely big enough for the both of them, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

The sound of gunshots outside did not bother his jaded ears.

Instead, it lulled him to sleep, his last thoughts for the night being his pondering on when he started hating the sight of the moon so much.

Deidara's fireplace burned brightly and hotly as the woman lay on her couch, sculpting the most random things. It was late at night that she got time to herself—the rest of the day she normally spent looking after herself and her home.

On her bed was the girl she had picked up. The girl's clothes—the remnants of a Once beautiful kimono—was drying on a chair near the fireplace, leaving the child naked underneath the woollen blanket, a rare item that Deidara had stole from another without them even knowing that it'd been her.

Her face was familiar, though Deidara couldn't put her finger on it. Perhaps when the girl woke up, she would speak of her identity.

Deidara was ready to fall asleep and wake up the next morning with a stiff neck when the girl stirred, groaning softly.

"Mrrghh... Onee-chan?" She blearily blinked sleep out of her eyes, sitting up with a wince. "Owww..."

"Oh, you're awake, un," Deidara spoke from the couch, causing the girl to startle and try to scramble out of the bed. "Hey, don't move around so much. I'm not going to hurt you."

The girl stared at her, wide-eyed and chest heaving. Then she blurted, "It's you! The lady who keeps making explosions...!"

"Hm?" Deidara lifted an eyebrow, her lips quirking upward in a soft smile. "So you've heard of me, un. Then you must know that I don't blow up little kids. Just annoying cats" un."

"I... dunno." Biting her lip, the girl lowered her gaze to stare at her hands, which were placed cupped on the blanket covering her legs. "What the?! Where are my clothes?!" Her voice was hoarse from disuse, but the shriek still got through.

Deidara used her thumb to gesture at the drying kimono. "Over here. You won't be wearing that anytime soon, unless you want to catch a cold."

"Don't you have anything else for me to wear?"

"Mm... My pyjamas, but I'm not sure if they'd fit you." Deidara shrugged, making a move for her miniature closet. "Then again, I'll bet that anything's better than naked with you. How old are you, anyway?"

"... Six."

"Tsk. I knew a kid that was still clinging to his mother's breast when he was six, un."

"Umm..."

"That was supposed to be funny," Deidara said as she tossed the girl her pyjamas. "At least laugh a little, un."

When it became clear that the girl wasn't going to lighten up anytime soon, Deidara stopped her poking fun. She'd probably been through a lot in the past three weeks, just like everyone else. And from what Deidara had observed, the child was used to being pampered and living a spoiled life.

It must have come as a shock to her, to have everything she took for granted ripped away from her all at once.

"What's your name kid?" Deidara eventually asked, handing her a warm cup of water.

"Hi... Hitomi."

"Holy shit. The Yamanaka?"

"Uh, yeah."

Deidara reached for her hair, finding the strands to be clumpy. "It's mud. Your entire head is muddy. You owe me a new pillow when this is all over, un."

"I didn't ask for you to bring me here!" Hitomi snapped, her eyes welling up with frustrated tears. She balled up her tiny fists, shaking. "I shouldn't be here! I want my onee-chan!"

Her annoyance was building up far too quickly than she would have liked, but Deidara quelled her irritation. "You'd be dead without me. A six-year-old spoiled brat isn't going to make it far out in the cold."

Hitomi was flabbergasted at Deidara's seemingly unflappable attitude. "I-I..."

"Go to sleep, you brat," Deidara ordered, pushing her back onto the bed. Great, now I sound like Danna. "And I'm washing your hair tomorrow, whether you like it or not, un. You're filthy."

"I must look so ugly," Hitomi sniffled as she laid her head on Deidara's pillow.

"No one here cares whether you're ugly or not," Deidara said frostily. "Just be grateful that you're still alive, un. What's appearances in the face of death?"

Despite everything, Hitomi's temper flared. "This is why okaa-san always says that you're never gonna get married!"

"Sleep before I throw something deadly and explosive at you."

With a squeak, Hitomi pulled the blanket over her head.

Wonderful. Now her blanket was going to be dirtied as well.

Rotten girl, that Yamanaka.

"Sakura!"

Shizune, Sakura's assistant, burst in as Sakura was disinfecting Ino's wounds with her bountiful medical supplies.

They were currently living in the city's underground, where there were abandoned buildings abound for the taking. The makeshift medical hut was where everyone that had fled to the Underground went to when they needed healing.

"Shizune, what's the matter?" Sakura demanded, standing up. "Ino-pig, I'm going to wrap that for you in a moment." In peaceful times, when she had chakra to spare, she would have used her chakra to knit Ino's flesh together. But now, Sakura had no such liberties with her chakra reserves.

"We've got a newcomer," Shizune informed her, her voice urgent. "And he's badly hurt. You must come right away. Itachi's with him now."

The Underground Faction, as somebody had dubbed it, was led by Uchiha Itachi, whose home had been seized in the attack and was now used as an army base. It wasn't the cleanest place, but everyone living down here had all did their best to make it more suitable for living. It was the safest place down here—not many knew that Akatsuki was built on top of an older city, and there was no way foreigners would ever know such a thing.

"Am I also a newcomer?" Ino asked hesitantly. "Billboard-brow?"

"Hell, yeah, and you're not going anywhere. We're safe down here, Ino."

"Are we really?"

"As safe as we can possibly get. I'll be right back—don't move!"

A large man was being held up by two shorter men, and Itachi was standing over him, examining his injuries.

"Hoshigaki-sama," Sakura gasped quietly. "I can't believe it..."

Kisame lifted his eyes, giving her a sharp, but crooked, pained grin. "Hey, girly. Are you just gonna stand here, or heal me?"

Itachi gave her a nod. "Sakura."

"On it, Itachi. Is Izumi okay? I haven't had the chance to check up on her this week."

"She is fine." Itachi sighed heavily. "I wish that our child won't have to be born during such difficult times. I wish that this war would end soon."

Kisame coughed, "Wishful thinking, Itachi-sama... I have a feeling that this war isn't stopping anytime soon... Kaguya's a ruthless bitch. And Pein won't back down to the likes of her, either."

Kisame had seemed so polite before, if not very strained. It seemed that it took a war and an invasion as well as losing half a gallon of blood to loosen his tongue.

"Careful," Kisame warned when Sakura got too close to Samehada.

"And what on earth is that?" Sakura asked brusquely.

"My crazy lover. Who else? Anyway, just don't get too close, for your own sake. She bites."

Sakura gave the wrapped sword a single glance before working her magic on Kisame's brutal injuries. It was cases like this that Sakura saved her chakra for. Just last week, she had been forced to amputate on the dirty sewer floor. It was only thanks to the healing properties of her chakra that the patient didn't die from infection or blood loss.

"Shizune, get the scalpel. He has a lump of metal in his arm."

"On it, Sakura."

Itachi frowned. "A bullet?"

"I do remember getting shot there," Kisame slurred, woozy from blood loss. "Dammit, Itachi, you're a genius..."

"His body healed over the bullet, most likely," Sakura explained. "I'll have to reopen the wound to remove the lump, or else it'll be infected."

"Geniuses, both of you."

"I can't tell whether he's being sarcastic or not," one of the men holding up Kisame whispered to the other.

"Me neither, Izumo."

As Itachi and Sakura worked with Kisame, Ino's mind was racing as she sat in the medical room, chewing on her lip until it was on the verge of bleeding.

Tears were streaming down her face, as she remembered what her captors had done to her.

She felt dirty.

"Ino?" A white-eyed girl stepped into the room.

Ino blinked slowly. "Ha... Hanabi-chan?"

Sasori glanced outside his window, watching soldiers march through the streets, enforcing curfew.

He rolled the blinds down.

A/N: It begins. Pretty much everyone is in their own unique situation. Itachi p, Izumi, and Sakura are running the Underground hideout, Deidara is by herself (though not anymore), the orphans still work at the cotton mill and sleep there too, Ino just returned from hell, Kisame looks like he just went through hell, and Kakashi and Gai are nowhere to be found, Sasori is still living with his grandmother, and Hanabi seems to be living with the Underground Faction due to some unknown circumstances.

And where did Sasuke, Obito, and Shisui get off to?

If you're out there reading, please review, as they really make my day ^^