Sometimes, when everything was mundane and boring and peaceful, Deidara would seek Sasori out for a fight. He would gladly accept, and they'd both willingly partake in a dance of danger and, quite possibly, death. No one who didn't have a taijutsu master's understanding of the art of battle thrumming through their veins would understand—they relished in their weekly rituals, blades of chakra and metal flying toward her; the ever dangerous clay soaring for him. Sometimes, they liked to be tricky with each other—their tricks normally ended in them both being barely walking human bruises.

And afterward?

They'd make their peace, and help each other up. They'd review the progress they'd made; Deidara was always especially eager about this part, while Sasori was less enthused. But their hearts thrummed together in exhilaration and adrenaline, and they would both struggle not to smile wickedly.

Obito's house was always within walking distance as they always fought in his training grounds. They would pass by Sasuke instructing Daichi on how to properly use a katana. Shisui would be there, too, sometimes, twirling his tanto in his hand and ready to jump in at any time to take over Sasuke's teaching. On the days that they weren't busy, Rin and Obito would sit back and observe in the shade. At nights, he would whisk Daichi back to the courtyard without his mother's knowledge and train him on the ways of Uchiha taijutsu. He'd never known (or maybe he had), but occasionally, Sasori would be exploring the city under the cover of the dark, and he'd stop by Obito's rooftop to watch him train his oldest whelp, his brown eyes almost glowing amber under the star-sequined clouds.

Deidara had never known back then, not until he had told her after they had given themselves to one another, in that hopelessly void detention cell. She'd been putting on her shoes when she expressed her desire to join him one day, envisioning their shadows flitting through the night, guided by the stars and the moon. The imagery would haunt her in her dreams following that.

Even now, as she stirred her tea in her room in Kazebaba's home (how kind of Tamaki to bring a cup up for her), she thought of climbing out the single window and onto the roof, where Sasori would be standing and holding out a hand to her, even when he knew she didn't need it. It would serve more as an invitation than anything else.

But speaking of Tamaki, the girl knocked on Deidara's door.

"Come in," Deidara allowed, almost absently as she typed meticulously on her typewriter. She was in a better mood than this morning, having showered and was now clothed in clean and comfortable clothes—a green yukata, not unlike the one she had owned back in Akatsuki. When Tamaki did, Deidara turned around in her chair, smirking a little. "This isn't about your boyfriend, is it?"

Tamaki frowned, a little blush forming across her cheeks. "Kiba isn't my boyfriend. And let's please not talk about him—not when I know that our feelings about him are so different."

"You're right—I have no interest in scrawny mutts, hm."

A deeper frown this time. "Well then, just what are you interested in? Hm?" she tacked on at the end.

Deidara stared at her. Then her lips curled upward in an amused smile. She brought out her arm toward her, and Tamaki shrieked when a giant centipede emerged from her yukata sleeve, finding its footing on the fabric before scuttling up her arm and settling comfortably on her shoulder.

"Relax," Deidara laughed wickedly as the centipede clicked its largest set of pincers. "It won't attack unless I want it to, yeah."

"I..." Tamaki was quite pale by now. "I see..." How did it even fit in there?!

"Don't believe me?"

Tamaki shot the centipede a wary glance.

Deidara shrugged. "That's not unusual. People normally have little appreciation for my art."

"Art?"

"Well, sure. Having art means having vision." A ghost of a smile. "I almost lost it one day." I almost lost everything that day. "But someone helped me find it again." Her countenance grew more solemn. "Do you know what art is, Tamaki-chan? It's an explosion. There's nothing more beautiful that something that's here today, but gone tomorrow. There is no better representation of the lives we all live—nothing lasts forever; everything will disappear one day. And what better way is there than to go out with a bang, hm?"

"I... I get it. I understand what you mean. But I guess the war just doesn't feel real here."

The war? Of all the things she had expected Tamaki to say, this definitely wasn't one of them. Deidara leaned back in her chair, her typewriter and her correspondence with a certain someone forgotten for now. She supposed she must have let her bemusement show, as Tamaki elaborated her thought process.

"You're a war orphan, aren't you? When... When Tsuki attacked Ame, you lost everything. And now you're here, just like the other refugees." Tamaki flushed again. "I'm sorry, was that insensitive?"

Deidara let out an exasperated sigh. You're full of assumptions, aren't you kid? You remind me of another little girl I once knew, only you're so much older than her. She liked to make assumptions, too. And those assumptions had gotten her killed. Not all of them. Most of it was me. "Close, but no biscuit. You're right—I am an orphan of war, but you're thinking of the wrong one, Tamaki-chan. And I didn't lose everything in Akatsuki," she added. I lost a lot of things, but it wasn't everything. I don't know how I would have lived if everybody had died. The thought sent a chill down her spine, and she tried to push it away.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

The words were so hollow, so meaningless, that Deidara was almost repulsed. "The nightmare's over now," she said, and she wasn't sure if she was talking to herself or Tamaki. "It's time to let sleeping dogs lie for good."

But could she really do that, when Sasori was out there fighting a war or possibly worse, when children had died and monsters had been born? When Shisui had been crushed by a literal boulder so Kakashi could live, when Izumi had received no mercy from a madman? When Ino had been used and thrown away like a toy, and when Obito had been murdered in cold blood? After everything, the war was still happening out there, and rumors were prominent—that Sunagakure was gathering its forces and possibly allies to fight alongside Tsukigakure, that Iwagakure could possibly get involved as well. Their deaths had changed nothing—the suffering of thousands upon thousands of people—collateral damage—had changed absolutely nothing. It was as if they had been so small, so insignificant—it made Deidara's blood boil: at her own weakness and how the continent's leaders had used their power to cause nothing but pain and destruction for what she was sure was a selfish gambit.

Deidara squashed her indignation down, even when she longed to cry out to the world in a heedless protest of her own suffering. There was no point. This was hardly the first war that she had happened in the duration of her life—she'd just happen to lose more than she had bargained for this time around. She would be long dead before the world ever changed—and even then, she doubted that it would.

Her hair had fallen from their clips now, slightly covering the left side of her face. "Why did you come here, Tamaki-chan?" she asked quietly. The centipede on her shoulder, previously light and airless, now felt as heavy as the world pressing down on her. It slid off her shoulder and curled around her waist like a belt from hell.

"Oh! Um, Kazebaba and I both agreed that I should head home so my parents don't become so worried. And I was wondering..."

"If I could walk you home?"

"Well, essentially, yeah. Kazebaba says you probably need a break anyway. It's not good to stay inside for too long."

"You should work in sales," Deidara snarked, stretching. Her bones popped satisfyingly.

Tamaki gave a tiny smile. "That would make my parents happy."

"I'll bet..."

Kazebaba was blowing bubbles of all things when Deidara and Tamaki climbed down the stairs, her white tomcat caterwauling and baring all of his fangs. The feline tried to pop the bubbles, but they seemed to be resistant to his claws.

"We're leaving!" Tamaki announced. "Please send Karasu over when Kiba comes back so I know he's safe."

Karasu? Deidara removed an umbrella from the stand, opening the door. She expected a chilly wind but none came. A pet crow, maybe? Kazebaba seemed like the type to have one, though she had yet to see hide nor hair of it. But why on earth would she willingly send it out in a literal storm?

"Alright, dear," Kazebaba agreed. "Travel safe." As she said the words, she tapped her bubble-blower a few times on the teapot, making it shake as if it were alive. Deidara blinked. How odd.

The door closed behind the girls just as the cat got caught in a particularly large bubble, meowing in annoyance (but not fear) as he floated up into the air. Then the bubble popped, and he landed back on the table on all fours.

Kazebaba ran her withered hand down his back, making him purr. "Sharp as ever, Shirogane."

The storm had calmed significantly, much to Deidara's surprise. It was now pouring lightly, no different than the airy summer rains in Akatsuki. Her umbrella was still up though—she'd rather not be soaked. The umbrella was big enough for two, and so Tamaki walked close to her, twirling a four-leafed clover that she had found on the way in her fingers.

Very few people had decided to come out, even with the storm at a pause. She could see worried and wary faces occasionally peaking out of windows. On the other hand, the storm had brought out a lot of frogs that definitely weren't averse to being outside. Her centipede, which had reverted back to its original spot in her sleeve, occasionally poked out to make agitated clicking noises at the wet environment.

Tamaki eyed it. "Is it real?"

The centipede crawled down her arm a little more so she could scratch its head. "Sure, why not? Clay golems can be as real as anything people normally consider real, hm." Grinning, she brought up her arm, the centipede dangling precariously off her forearm. "Wanna pet it?"

"Ehehe, no thanks, I'm good..." Tamaki glanced to the side at a mossy stone wall with a puddle at the base, two frogs loitering in said puddle. Then she turned back to the front, a nervous little smile on her face. "I'm not really good with bugs and the like."

They walked in silence for a bit before Tamaki broke the quiet once more.

"Are you really from Iwa?"

Deidara almost dropped the umbrella. "Yeah, why?"

"What do you think of our town then?" Tamaki sounded almost eager. "It was founded under two Iwa pioneers, both fishermen who couldn't get good business due to Iwa being so far from the ocean. The then leader of Konoha, the First Hokage—Uchiha Izanami—allowed them to live on the eastern archipelago as part of Konohagakure as long as they provided good trade. And they did. They were soon joined by Iwa immigrants, and people from Konoha—including Kiba's ancestors!—who were sick of living on the mainland. And, well, here we are today. That's why this place looks like an Iwa town, like your home."

"Iwa, huh..." Deidara normally avoided all thoughts of Iwa. But then the time she had spent in Kabuto's dungeon had unlocked memories of her mother she hadn't even realized she still kept, and now the ties that she had tried so hard to sever were now strengthened and calling her back. "It hasn't been my home for a long time, hm. Too many memories there."

"Bad ones?"

A bitter smirk had the corners of her mouth twitching in almost morbid sort of amusement. "Not all of them were bad. But I try not to look back at it."

Tamaki quietened. Then she said, "It was the Civil War, wasn't it?"

The centipede climbed back up Deidara's sleeve. "My, you're a clever one, aren't you? How did you figure that one out, hm?"

She didn't sound mad, so the younger girl took it as a good sign.

"Just a bit of deduction, I guess," Tamaki explained gingerly. She fiddled with the clover she held. "When I mentioned the war, you said it was a different one. And I know you're from Iwa. I guessed you were pretty young when you lost your parents, and you're about my age—a bit older—so I just thought of the only war that makes sense—the Iwa Civil War."

Deidara chuckled humorlessly, and the hairs on the back of Tamaki's neck raised in alarm. "Your logic could get you in trouble one day, yeah."

"So... What happened?"

"Ever heard of curiosity killed the cat?"

"Satisfaction brought it back."

"And then curiosity killed it again in a fit of jealousy. There is no satisfaction on the part of the cat to bring it back."

Tamaki wrinkled her nose.

The rain poured a little harder.

In the end, Deidara caved. Slightly. "Iwa betrayed my mother. There's really nothing else to it. The day they killed her was the day I left and never looked back. That's all, yeah." I could smell nothing but fire and burning bodies that day.

"... Thank you for telling me," whispered Tamaki.

"Think nothing of it, kid."

"I'm fifteen going on sixteen."

"And I'm nineteen going on twenty. Point?"

They arrived at the front of the sweets shop then, and Tamaki paused as she stepped out of the umbrella and underneath the overhanging cloth above her parents' doorstep. "Thanks for walking me."

"Forget it." Deidara lifted a hand. "See you around, Tamaki-chan."

"Goodbye, Deidara-san. We'll see each other again soon, don't worry."

I wasn't worrying, but thanks for the thought. The door opened, then closed, and Deidara could hear Tamaki's parents shrieking with worry and relief from the inside. She didn't know exactly why, but she kept standing there, the umbrella the only thing keeping her from becoming soaked. It was as if her feet had been rooted to the ground. The shouting quickly turned into crying, and Deidara felt a pang of jealousy and regret in her heart. She knew what it was now.

I think I always have. I just didn't want to admit it. The crying grew softer—the family had moved to a different room.

Deidara stood in the rain a little while longer before turning on her heel.

She had almost forgotten—there was nobody for her here.

"The bird sings at midnight, the bird sings at midnight, stuck in its roost, incapable of flight..."

The singing of the old lady Hirahara was instantly recognizable to Kiba's ears. She had the voice of what Kiba could only describe as of a gnarled tree's. It was creaky, stiff, and carried across as merely a whisper in the wind. But it was not entirely unpleasant.

"Good morning, Hirahara-baa-chan," Kiba greeted with a wave, even though he knew she couldn't see him.

"Oh, good morning, Kiba. Here to visit your mother?"

"Mmhm. I'll see you later, baa-chan. Come on, Akamaru."

They left Hirahara on the bench, humming to herself. The old lady was in hospice care, and caused much grief to the nurses whenever she magically disappeared from her hospital bed and reappeared on the garden bench outside. Magic, they said, it was surely magic.

There was a strict no dogs allowed rule, but Kiba managed to sneak Akamaru past without much trouble. It was strange, but lately the hospital workers had been giving him a wider berth.

This is it. Kiba stood in front of room 1408. Beside him, Akamaru whined, as if sensing his turbulent emotions. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he opened the door. This wasn't the first time he had visited his mother, and maybe he was crazy but it was more difficult each time, standing outside and wondering how much she had deteriorated.

"She will wake up," Kiba said aloud as he stepped inside. "She will, Akamaru." She has to. The door closed behind him as he made for the single bed in the room. It was there Inuzuka Tsume lay, completely cut off from the world. Kiba pulled a chair to the bed and sat, placing his arms on the side of the bed, where his mother's narrow body didn't obstruct. The morning turned into afternoon outside as Kiba stayed there for hours, Akamaru sleeping at his feet. He nodded off a few times, too, but never managed to sleep for more than ten minutes.

She will wake up, he kept telling himself.

But then that voice whispered tantalizingly in the back of his head, suggesting an idea that Kiba tried not to entertain. But what if she doesn't? What will you do then? You've been abandoned by everyone. Your sister. All of your relatives are dead. You have no one.

Tears started to form in the corners of his eyes, soaking the sleeve of his shirt. Then he growled, wiping them away. He hated tears. Tears solved nothing, they didn't, he swore they didn't...

You're all alone, Kiba.

Kiba glanced out the window to check where the sun was, his insides feeling hollow. Tamaki won't abandon me. She's still here. I just have to drop by at the sweets shop and she's there. With her parents, her cats... A jealousy he didn't know he harbored surged through him, almost knocking him out of his seat. Akamaru snapped awake, completely in tune with his master's feelings. He nudged Kiba's legs, and Kiba looked down.

"Sorry, pal. Did I scare you?"

The sun was hidden behind the clouds again when Kiba sat up, popping his back. It was going to start raining again soon—he could hear the wind howling outside, beating against the window and demanding entry.

Akamaru loyally padded after him as he bid his mother goodbye.

Before exiting the lobby, he went up to the receptionist, who was not much older than him. Kiba didn't particularly like her. She always had a sly look about her, from her pursed lips, arched brows, and narrow wide-set eyes. She was too much of a cat—not the innocent, fluffy kind like Tamaki, but the spiteful, manipulative type. He was willing to bet good money that if the woman ever met Kazebaba's annoying white tomcat, they would get along tremendously.

"Aika-san, can I get the billing history?" he requested, not really bothering with a polite tone. He didn't have time for niceties.

A shadow of a smirk was on the woman's face as she obliged. "Why, of course. See for yourself. You're lucky that it's all paid for for this month, otherwise your mother would be sleeping with the fishes." Akamaru growled at that, and Aika eyed the dog distastefully from over the counter.

"Fuck off." Kiba snatched the receipt from her, scanning it. Everything really was accounted for. It was a miracle—so much so that he actually sighed in relief. Numbers had never been quite his strong suit, and with his new lifestyle—stray on the streets (he couldn't stand living in the abandoned compound; he'd tried to sell it but there were no buyers), no money of his own because it had all already been spent on war efforts and Tsume's recovery (mostly the former, Kiba recalled in disgust), little access to important information about the hospital's billing... He was never sure just how much he owed to them each month. And he certainly wasn't going to ask the shrew Aika. As long as he kept paying what he normally did, it would be fine.

"This coming from a scrawny mutt..." Aika muttered. "I could get you kicked out for good."

"I'll still keep sneaking in."

Aika rolled her eyes. "Not that I care, but be more careful, mutt. There are sharks around the quay now."

Kiba was not deaf. He had heard the rumors—rumors of a gang forming in the town. But no gang members had ever been outed, and they remained mostly silent. But people were starting to fear for their safety—it was not just the storm that had them huddled up at home. "Tch. Whatever. I'm outta here." He shoved the receipt in his pocket. I'm lucky that the hospital bill is so cheap, otherwise I wouldn't be able to pay for it.

If she were here it would have been so much easier—

But it isn't! Kiba walked out into the rain, sullen and without a care of becoming soaked. It isn't easier because she isn't here! She up and left! And for what? Her dreams? Medical school? Ha! That stupid, selfish, bitch... I hate you, Hana. I hope you're rotting in hell over there.

Fuming, Kiba wandered around town aimlessly, unwilling to return to Kazebaba just yet. He didn't want to be cooped up inside—he'd explode if he were. Not to mention that damn blonde cow was still there. He turned into an empty street. What was her name again? Deidara? It was Akamaru's alarmed bark that snapped him out of his funk, just in time to duck and not get his face chopped in half by a flying axe.

"What the hell?!"

"Inuzuka..."

He had a pretty face, that was for sure. Kiba grimaced, stepping backward when the speaker—a handsome man with darker hair and even darker eyes emerged from the shadows, a small smile on his face. His hair was kept in a low ponytail, black bangs falling over his face.

Kiba stepped backward, his heart pounding. Akamaru was growling at the man, his tail raised in alarm.

The man's smile grew a little wider, holding out one bandaged hand toward him. "I've been looking for you."

"Okaa-san, why do you fight, huh?" Kiba, seven years old, glared up at his mother. "You're always away at council meetings and stuff. S'not fair..."

Tsume chuckled. It was low and rumbling and came from the depths of her chest. It soothed him. "It's just a skirmish this time around. It's those damn Iwa supremacists acting up again. The Axe Gang. Don't worry—they're as weak as the basis of their ideals. We'll squash them like insects, pup."

His mother turned to leave, but Kiba sat up from his bed, calling after her, "W-wait! What about my question?"

Tsume paused. "Question?" she echoed.

"Yeah! My question! Why do you fight so hard?"

"Why...?" Tsume's lips curled up in a smirk as she turned, Kiba looking at her in awe as she said, "For the town, of course. I'll defend this town to my last breath. And one day, I expect you to do the same, understand? Sickleleaf Town is our home, and its people need to be protected. The Axe Gang are outsiders who seek to take advantage of this town's history to fuel their own agenda. I can't let them do that, or I'll be a traitor to the very place I swore to protect. Our loved ones and friends are here. If we don't fight, they'll get hurt."

"Wow..." Kiba took a deep breath. "You're really cool, okaa-san!"

The woman barked a laugh. "Should have known all that flew over your head. But what the heck—you're still a kid. You have plenty of time. At your age, you have all the time in the world..." She ruffled his hair one last time for goodnight, kissing his forehead after that. "Night, pup."

"Goodnight, okaa-san," whispered the boy, hugging his dog plush toy close to his chest.

But he didn't fall asleep that night. Not immediately. Tsume was wrong about one thing—everything she had said, not all of it had gone in one ear and out the other.

"That mutt still not back yet?" Deidara casually said as she brushed her hair, looking at Kazebaba through the mirror she faced.

"I'm afraid he isn't." The old woman closed her eyes.

"You're calm." Deidara narrowed her eyes. "Too calm, yeah, for someone who claims to care so much about it."

Kazebaba smiled. "Did I ever say such a thing?"

"You don't need to tell me anything. Your body language already gave that away, hm. How many more days are you giving him?"

It was only then that Kazebaba paused, the storm rumbling dangerously outside. "The question should be," she amended, "how many more days is he giving you?"

What? What the hell is she talking about? Deidara continued to eye the ancient woman through the mirror, more wary than before. "Don't mistake my questions for anything but mild concern about his safety," she growled accusingly. "I owe him nothing more than that." She ducked her head to tie her hair into its usual style.

"I wonder if you'll still say the same thing," mused Kazebaba, "When push comes to shove."

When Deidara looked up again, she was gone.

The first day without Kiba passed by quietly. Deidara went about doing her own things, planning her routes to her next clients as well as fitting downtime back in the city into her schedule. She'd go mad if she had to be by her lonesome for too long again, just like when the Tsuki soldiers had taken over Akatsuki. At least then she had had Hitomi—

Her pen cracked in her hand.

Letting out a shaky breath, she tossed it in the wastebasket and got out another one from her single case. She had only brought two pens, and she needed to be more careful with them.

It was then she remembered what else she had brought along aside from her work things. Almost hesitantly, she reached into her case again, pulling out the copy of Sarutobi Sasuke's diary that Fumiko had given her.

Then she began to read.

Kazebaba never once bothered her, except to offer her tea in the evening.

Kiba didn't come back. Neither did Tamaki. Deidara fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning, a small part of her expecting the dog-boy and his mutt to be back the next day.

The second day of Kiba's absence, Deidara spent it by pushing her work aside and reading Sarutobi's diary on her comfortable bed. His words—hastily written but packed full of emotions so raw and real that it was utterly indescribable—stayed in her mind, and she was vaguely aware of the sun peaking and setting behind the clouds outside.

Sarutobi Sasuke had been an orphan of war. That was not unusual. She was, too, as well as many others. He had existed in the time of the Warring Clans, the youngest brother from a family of five boys and a girl. It was an era where bloodshed and violence were even more prevalent than today, and Sarutobi had fought tooth and nail just to survive. Three of his four brothers had been murdered on the battlefield, the last brother living out his days wheelchair bound. He had committed suicide before Sarutobi had even turned twenty. And Mirai—she nearly choked when she saw that name—his only sister, had died from giving birth. The way he mourned her on the pages made her a little sick in the stomach, a reminder of her own grief, but she went on, unwilling to drop the book for such a simple, pathetic reason.

The man had wished for nothing but peace. What he had gotten instead was endless war that only ended when Uchiha Izanami and Senju Riku—two of the biggest instigators of the bloody skirmishes of that region during that time—declared peace and founded Konohagakure, the first nation. But even then, nothing was as it seemed. It appeared that Konoha had a long history of corruption, starting from when Senju Riku—stabbed quite literally in the back—was assassinated and Uchiha Izanami—curse her name! the diary spat—became the First Hokage. Sarutobi made it no secret in his diary that he strongly suspected that Izanami had been the perpetrator.

She read until the early hours of the morning once again.

On the third day without the Inuzuka boy, Deidara was sure that Kazebaba was going to approach her once and for all about this Kiba matter (whatever it was). Instead of letting the woman come up to her, Deidara went downstairs for the first time in two days that wasn't for food or water.

And what she saw—

Deidara cleared her throat. "Care to explain why exactly your cat is flying on a bubble?" The bubble itself was sustaining from a constant stream of tea that flowed upward and into said bubble. The fat white cat that usually sat on the table next to Kazebaba was looking quite flustered, trying to hold on to its ride with its claws.

Kazebaba didn't even look at her. "Shirogane enjoys playing. Come here, Deidara." She held out a note. "This is from my wind spirit, Karasu. The news... is quite dire. Oh, yes, quite dire indeed... This is turning out to be quite the gamble..."

Deidara took the note (the paper was as light as air, she noticed, and the words seemed to glow a faint, pulsing blue), skimming over it. "You cannot be serious."

"Deadly."

Deidara snarled, scrunching the paper in her hand. "What's this game of yours, old hag?!"

"My only intention is to help Kiba. If I must do so in this roundabout manner, than so be it. He will never let go if I don't take this chance."

"And where do you get off roping me into this?" Deidara said, her voice low and dangerous. "Hm? I didn't come all the way here for you to mess around with my life as if I'm some puppet! Well?! Answer me!"

"I'm not playing games, Deidara. You and I—we will both benefit from the outcome. Witch's honor. But if you don't help him, he will die. Surely, Deidara, you would not allow his string to be cut?"

Deidara glowered at her with all the hatred she could summon, Kazebaba meeting her gaze evenly. "Honor?" she said in the end. "Don't make me laugh, yeah." She turned on her heel. "I'll save your precious dog-boy," she added, her tone venomous. "But not for you, hm. Only because nobody needs to die from this. You knew everything that was happening from the start, didn't you? Witch."

Kazebaba watched her disappear upstairs and not come back down. When she went up, she saw that the belt with her clay and weapons pouch had been taken from their usual place on the end of her bed, the rest of her belongings still where they were the last time she came up here. The woman glanced out the window, which was opened, and saw her dark figure jumping across rooftops, nimble as a cat. Her cloak's hood was pulled over her head. Kazebaba shut the window, even when her magic prevented rain and wind from coming inside.

Shirogane meowed. He had followed her up.

Her old knees bending, Kazebaba squatted to pet her beloved cat. "Good luck, Deidara-san. His life depends on you now. Karasu." Her wind companion appeared beside her. "Send a message to Tamaki. She deserves to know what I truly intended. Sometimes, drastic measures must be taken. Perhaps she might never forgive me..."

Far away from the house, Deidara flitted through the rain like a bird in the wind, words of Sarutobi burned into her brain. In the thunderstorm, she steered toward the direction of one place far away from the town—the place where Kiba's troubles had started.

In the distance, the Inuzuka Clan compound cast a shadow on the hill it sat upon.

Dear Rin,

The boy, Kiba, he disappeared today. He left in the morning and hasn't been back since. It's almost midnight when I'm writing this. That old woman—Kazebaba—she's planning something. I can feel it in my bones.

Nothing else to report back to you. Hope Daichi and Hikari are doing good.

Yours,

Deidara

Hey Rin,

Kiba's still not back. I don't like him very much, but I think this should be a cause for concern. I'm also more than halfway through Sarutobi Sasuke's diary. It's... just as I expected it to be. Better, even. I think you should read it sometime—there's bound to be some copies in the city library.

Kazebaba is suspicious. She knows what's happened to Kiba, but she's waiting for something. I don't know what.

The storm should clear up soon, hopefully.

Yours,

Deidara

Kazebaba-sama,

Inuzuka-kun is currently being held in his clan compound, north-west from our base. They are hurting him. Why? Because they want to be Inuzuka Tsume's inheritors. Once she passes away, it will fall to Kiba regardless of his age. They want him to officially give up his position as heir to the leader of the Axe Gang, contract and all.

Karasu

Blood dripped onto the floor, forming a pool. Kiba looked up, his entire face feeling like it was on fire.

His tormentor stood before him, looking bored.

"Still haven't caved?" The handsome man pushed his chin up with one rough thumb. "Tough one, aren't you?"

Despite the pain in his face, Kiba spat a glob of blood and mucus at the man. It landed on his cheek. "Fuck you, you bastard. I-I'll never give you the clan... the Inuzuka... we're protectors of this city!" Okaa-san... I've been a traitor, stealing from the people we loved so much... "I'LL NEVER LET IT FALL INTO RUINS!"

"Keep spouting your utter tripe." The man wiped his face. "Nobody's coming for you, Kiba. You've been abandoned."

No... Tears sprung up in his eyes, even when blood dripped from his mouth. No, that's not true...

"Kid." He whispered in Kiba's ear. "I'm going to ask you nicely one last time—"

And then there was an explosion, and Kiba's world tilted and darkened.

A/N: Alright, update!

The Axe Gang are to my knowledge a real gang formed in 1921, but they are often used as cinematic characters in Hong Kong.