He still remembered everything.
Everything that had led up to this, all of his regrets and frustrations all encompassed into one long, painful memory that never ceased to replay itself over and over in his cursed head.
There was little to save him from insanity. But they existed anyhow, little silver linings streaked across the darkness.
A bitter chuckle rumbled in his chest, cut off when a pang of pain rippled down his arms and legs. All four of his limbs were chained so that he was suspended in a starfish position. The room was completely dark, and having his chakra sealed off prevented him from using his Byakugan, leaving him almost completely deprived of sensation. When did everything start anyway? Was it, perhaps, the day he died? Or was it before that?
In his mind's eye, white feathers drifted through the air, and a pale, chubby hand reached out, trying and failing to grab them. He saw himself—a young boy who thought the world was his oyster, that he could do anything and everything he wanted if he tried hard enough.
There was a taller man beside him—his father, who was the spitting image of the Hyuuga Clan Head.
Hyuuga Hizashi had always worn a dark bandanna over his forehead. For a while, Neji hadn't known why.
"I want to fly," he'd told his father back then, determination in his voice as he stretched his arms out in a stretch as if they were wings.
There'd been something in his father's eyes. Something undecipherable to the child he had been. "I'm sorry, Neji." And that had been it.
Those were not the words that Neji had wanted to hear.
He'd been yearning for something more like "You can do it." Or, maybe, "If you try hard enough, you'll fly one day."
But reality was not kind, and his father had been a perpetually tired, disillusioned man.
"A seal?" Neji had echoed as his father led him down a dim corridor, the two of them walking through a part of the compound that Neji had never been before. "A seal for what? Otou-san!"
His father had not given him a proper answer, but he had found out in the end.
I am destined for nothing but eternal servitude, he had told himself back then. Even with all my talents, I will always be chained by the fate that was chosen for me.
The only person that had ever treated him kindly after his father's death he had shunned. Her little sister had shunned him in return, slicing open his hand, and it was as if the entire clan, even the members of the Branch House, had turned their backs on him.
"Worthless!"
"Gouge out his eyes!"
"He doesn't deserve the name of Hyuuga!"
So before Tsuki came to Akatsuki, Neji had run.
At some point, he'd been attacked and bitten and changed. It was as if his coldness and resentment had finally manifested into physical form, and he'd worn it like a traveler would wear a heavy cloak in the winter.
For the gods knew how long, he was no longer Hyuuga Neji, but a mindless monster. Then came coherence in mild spurts and sputters, and he'd fought violently against the monster within in a wrestle for control.
When he'd finally come to once more, there'd been shouting.
"Don't kill him. Please." It'd been strange, hearing Hinata speak without stuttering over every single word. "I don't think he even k-knows what he did. I-I can see it…"
"Bullshit! Don't be an idiot, hm! He's not human, anymore, he's a demon!" She was blonde—her cheeks were flushed in anger—and she looked ready to explode at any moment.
"He isn't!" Hinata argued. "Karin-san didn't sense anything bad, did she? If anything happens, I-I'll take full responsibility for it."
"Oh? I don't see how you can, seeing as you'll be the one he kills first, hm. And even if that wasn't the case, that will just mean you'll be responsible for someone else's demise. Can your conscience handle that, Hinata-chan? Hm?"
For the first time in his life, someone fought for him. "Y-You really are a hypocrite, Deidara-san. 'How dare they kill him'. That was what you were thinking w-when Sasori was on the verge of d-death, wasn't it?" The blonde woman's furious chakra was permeating the air, and Hinata struggled to continue, feeling choked, "How… is this any different? In the end, they're b-both human."
"Kid," someone began in warning, only to be talked over by the blonde embodiment of rage and fury.
"Is that what you really think? You must be delusional. This is entirely different situation—your nii-san lived as a monster. He still is. Sasori has never been a monster, hm." Her words seemed to breathe some life into Kakashi again, who stiffened. "You wouldn't be saying these things if he wasn't a Hyuuga!"
"You're right!" Hinata straightened like a ramrod after being berated, shocking all of them, who had only ever registered her as a weak-willed wallflower. And perhaps she was, but there was more to her than that. "But that's the c-case for you, too, isn't it, Deidara-san? I'm defending Neji because he's my family—because I love him. I'm the same as you; you defended Sasori-san because he is someone you love and care about!"
Hinata loved him. Cherished him, thought of him as a brother even after the way he had despised her.
Neji was ashamed.
He still was.
"You thought I was running away?" Sasori chuckled darkly, raising his hand so that Neji's blood trickled down his Zetsu arm with agonizing slowness. "You are sorely mistaken, you insolent brat. But now that you're here, why don't I save them the trouble and kill you myself? Maybe I'll even take your arm." Neji got into a defensive stance, and Sasori's expression soured. "Why don't you fight as your true self? Stop hiding under that worthless skin, you worm!"
Hiding. Running away.
And wasn't that the truth? Convincing himself that the fates had it out for him, removing himself from the one person that had actually cared for him to wallow in his own misery.
I wish I could have made amends for it.
Maybe we could have started over.
Neji opened his eyes, seeing nothing but a black abyss.
Then light flooded in, blinding his vision for a few moments, and a tall figure stood at the entrance of the room.
"You must be Hyuuga Neji."
Monsters.
They were everywhere.
The sun beat down on their backs as they trudged through the desert. Shikamaru let out a disgruntled grunt, sweat dripping down his forehead and eyes squinted. He was wearing a straw hat with fringes but it did little to protect him from the heat.
"Are you sure we know where we're going?" he asked Ito Teppei, diplomat, tartly.
Ito huffed, his cheeks completely red. He was a squat little man who obviously wasn't used to much walking. They had driven up until a checkpoint, then they were forced to travel through the sandy desert by foot. Any military vehicles Konoha had were distributed to war efforts.
Shikamaru thought that was a little silly. After all, this was also a war effort, albeit a much more passive one.
"I'm sure of it," Ito replied eventually, breathing heavily.
They weren't the only two in the diplomacy party—others included diplomat Tanaka Eisen and his aide Aburame Shino. To their credit, they seemed to be doing better than Ito currently was. Then again, Shikamaru could have been a little wrong—the bottom half of Shino's face wasn't visible anyway, hidden away by a high collar.
Even in this heat, he seemed to be dedicated to his wardrobe. Shikamaru would have chucked that grey jacket aside hours ago and left it to burn to a crisp under the desert sun.
"Are you sure it's only spring?" Ito was muttering to himself as he dabbed at his temple with a soaked through handkerchief. "It seems more like the season of death to me."
"Death is not a season," Shikamaru told him, keeping his tone polite.
Ito snorted. "Hard to believe, Nara-san."
"I'm sure we'll get there soon," Tanaka reassured, a wobbly smile on his face. "If not, we'll encounter a border patrol."
Half an hour later, Ito inevitably called for a break and removed an umbrella and folding chair out of a scroll, flopping into the latter. Much to Shikamaru's annoyance, he was the one who had to hold the umbrella for him, the sand not compact enough for it to be kept upright.
It was then Shino spoke. "There's a wind now. It's blowing that direction. Why? I believe it might be leading us the way." He pointed toward the horizon, and Shikamaru stared at where he was pointing. There was nothing that Shikamaru could see but sand.
Tanaka frowned. "That sounds like superstition to me."
Shikamaru had to agree. But Shino... he didn't know why, but he trusted him on strange accounts like this. It was just the energy he gave off, Shikamaru supposed. Not to mention that it was logical, almost to the point of it being far-fetched.
So Shikamaru piped up, supporting Shino's claim, "Living in a country this hot can't be easy. If you want to build a city with a high concentration of people, the best place to do it is where the wind usually blows if you don't want to overheat."
Ito was impressed. "I see. Excellent! Let's keep moving then."
Once the umbrella and folding chair was put away, they kept going, their pace quickening slightly at the thought of the city—not the capital, but a neighboring city—being just a few miles more away.
Luck was on their side, it seemed, as almost immediately they were stopped by a patrol. A truck with the Suna insignia on its side roared as it rolled up to them, stopping short.
"Hello!" Ito greeted, fumbling for his travel papers and other official documents that declared their identity and intent.
Shikamaru and Shino stood back as their respective senpais took over, standing a good five feet apart from one another. Neither of them attempted to make any conversation, and Shikamaru was just fine with that.
However, it didn't stop him from occasionally eyeing the other teenager. The Aburame are a noble clan, aren't they? He wracked his brain for more, but found that he came up shorter than he would have liked. All I know about them is that they have an affiliation with bugs, were part of Konoha's founding clans, and have substantial political power because of that. I don't even know who the clan heir is... Could it be him? But that would make little sense for the Clan Head to send the heir to what almost qualified as a warzone due to the ongoing political unrest between Suna and Konoha.
Shino sneezed.
"Bless you," Shikamaru offered halfheartedly.
Finally, the diplomat party were approved, and the Suna patrol begrudgingly offered them a ride to Sunaarashi Toshi—or the not so creatively named Sandstorm City.
For the entire ride, Shino and Shikamaru were squashed together like tuna in a can thanks to Ito taking up most of the space in the back seat.
Stifling a miserable sigh, Shikamaru closed his eyes and attempted to nod off even with sweat uncomfortably sticking his back to his shirt. As he did, he could hear some of the whispers being hissed back and forth between the driver and the two guards in the front.
"I can't believe this is Konoha's backup party."
"I know. Two of 'em are still kids by the look of it."
"Fucking disrespectful is what I say."
Great. Shikamaru scowled. We've barely done anything and we've already made a bad impression. This must be some kind of record, huh? How troublesome...
He wasn't sure how much time had passed before the city finally came into sight and they passed through the gates practically unhindered. The buildings and architecture here were much different to Konoha's and Ame's—the houses and shops were much plainer and obviously designed to repel the heat during the day but keep it in during the cold desert nights. The clothing was different, too—everyone wore loose and light garments; some women wore headscarves to protect themselves from being baked alive, while some men wore wide hats for the same reason.
He wasn't at all sorry that the cultural clash had snagged his attention.
As they passed through the city, they got many wary glances from the citizens, but nothing more than that. Either the people were naturally suspicious of the army (as they should be) or they had some sixth sense that told them that some undesirable foreigners were stinking up the vehicle. Shikamaru guessed that it was probably the former.
When they arrived at a large, nondescript building, the Suna officials hopped out. "We're here," the driver said shortly. "Now get out."
Quietly, they obeyed.
The guards were kind enough to lead them inside.
"Representatives from the capital will be here soon," one of them informed the Konoha party with a shallow dip of the head. "Please wait here in the lobby. If you need anything, the receptionist is over there."
"Is there any water?" Ito couldn't help but ask, thinking of his empty canteen.
"I said ask the receptionist. Good day."
"How uncouth," Ito muttered when they were gone, slumping into a couch.
"There's a water dispenser over there," Tanaka pointed out kindly. "I'll get you some, Ito-san."
"Thank you."
Not even five minutes later, the double doors that they were facing (which led further inside) opened up dramatically, and a group of seven people stalked into the lobby, all of them looking dignified. Shikamaru stood and straightened, following the example of Ito, Tanaka, and Shino. Maybe if he had more energy he would have stretched a polite smile across his face, but a sullen stare with glazed over eyes would have to do for now.
The man leading Suna's supposed diplomatic party was thin-faced, lean, and had a rather large nose that made it look like he was constantly looking down at everyone. Which, to be fair, he probably was. The other members of the party were quite normal looking and unremarkable by comparison. Still, Shikamaru observed each and every one of them closely, his gaze lingering for a few moments longer on a blonde woman with a serious expression on her face. She had her hair tied into an unusual but not unheard of hairstyle—four spiky pigtails that reminded Shikamaru of shuriken.
There was a stiff handshake and some polite words exchanged between Ito and the thin man before the latter suggested that they make themselves comfortable in accommodation that Suna had provided for them.
It was less of a suggestion and more of an order, but they were all too tired and sweaty to care at this moment.
Honestly, Shikamaru could have killed for a shower and a nap at this point and he knew it. Or at least some time to clean out the sand from my clothes.
"Temari!" the thin-faced man abruptly said. "Please escort our guests to the hotel."
The blonde woman that Shikamaru had been staring at before stepped forward, bowing shallowly. "Of course, Chancellor Ono," she appeased, voice smooth and low. She acknowledged Ito and Tanaka briefly with a nod before walking off, expecting them to follow. Without wasting any more time, they scurried after her.
Temari was older than him, Shikamaru could tell that much, but it didn't seem like such a significant age difference. And yet she was on the diplomatic party of Suna. How interesting.
Then again, mused Shikamaru, she may be just like Shino and I. Mere aides in the grand scheme of things.
But the way she held herself... No, he decided in the end, this was a woman who wielded power, knew it, and wasn't afraid to exercise it.
"How was your journey?" she inquired.
It was Ito who answered. "Fine, fine. Quite tiresome, though."
She chuckled, and the Shikamaru felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end a little. "I'm sure. I apologize for that. In a few years from now, hopefully we'll have a better, easier to travel route."
"I'd like to see that happen," Tanaka opined, smiling.
"As would I," added Shikamaru, and Temari blinked in surprise as she turned, their gazes meeting. Yes, he said silently, his face schooled into neutrality, I exist, too. He knew that she had almost entirely written him off based on first impressions (looked like that sullen glare didn't work out too well after all, but Shikamaru blamed the sun and the unbearable heat), and he needed to correct that mistake if he wanted to have any sort of influence on the outcome of these tense relations.
"Is that so?" Temari hummed. "I'm glad we're on the same page then."
She wants peace, he quickly realized. Or at least she's giving us that impression.
Save for what bits and pieces she offered to them, it was almost impossible to deduce her true intentions. Could Shikamaru really take what she said and implied at face value?
For now, he decided to just try and pick up on any tells she had. He didn't have much faith though. Right now, he couldn't spot any chink in her armor.
The rest of the journey was filled with (seemingly) meaningless conversation that Shikamaru repeated in his head over and over again to try and pick up any hidden meaning. There were almost none. Perhaps she was simply playing the polite host and nothing more.
But no, there was a weight to her words.
Temari spoke her mind. She was blunt. She was not a liar unless she needed to be.
But does she need to be one right now? Shikamaru asked himself, mulling over the question.
The hotel that Suna provided them was quaint on the outside but lovely on the inside. Temari checked them in and escorted them to their rooms. Any conversation they might have been having had died down by now.
Ito and Tanaka got their own rooms, while Shikamaru had to share with Shino. He didn't mind it, truly, but it was a bit of an inconvenience. If he'd gotten a room with Ito, he would have an easier time prying information out of the man.
At least Shino was nice.
"You two must be assistants," Temari commented as she pushed open the door to their room, Ito and Tanaka already parted from them and settling into their own room.
"Aides," amended Shino.
"Glorified assistants then." She smirked. "Don't look so down," Shino's expression behind his dark glasses hadn't changed but Shikamaru wasn't about to put himself on her bad side (he was sure she had one; women like her always had one and it would be very troublesome if he found himself on it) by calling her out, "You guys are barely adults yet. You can't expect to be any more important than that. Will you be coming to the meetings?"
You have only a few years on us. What could possibly make you say that? Arrogance? Nepotism at play, maybe? "Yeah," Shikamaru answered for Shino, though he was well aware that there might be more secretive meetings that took place without them. "Will you?"
"Of course. The Chancellor may be in charge of foreign affairs, but I'm not exactly a bug on the political scale."
"Oh?" How interesting. "How so?"
That damned smirk of hers made a reappearance. "Where's the fun in telling you now? You seem like a smart guy. I'm sure you'll figure it out soon."
With that, she wished them a good day and left, disappearing down the hallway.
Ignoring Shino's penetrating stare, Shikamaru let out a frustrated sigh and turned away, closing the door and heading straight for the shower. When Shino continued to stare, he whirled back around, sighing and feeling that, somehow, he owed his fellow aide some sort of explanation. "It's the heat."
"Yes," said Shino, vaguely, obviously thinking of something else. "I could tell."
Everybody had their own stories to tell, no matter how unremarkable they were.
Kisame knew that.
As he bit into his watermelon, ignoring how the cold juices made his teeth ache, his trousers rolled up and his feet and calves submerged in a babbling brook, he took a moment to appreciate the blue skies that had emerged after the bloody storms of November and December.
If he had been born a little more normal, then his story would not have been interesting, but maybe it would have been easier to bear with. He remembered spending a good two hours crying in the middle of the woods, where he had ended up after escaping from the circus master his parents had sold him to, disgust and relief on their faces.
"It's the water," his mother had kept muttering to herself as she accepted the pouch of gold coins, practically throwing her five-year-old son into the waiting arms of the ringmaster. "The water made him like this."
After that, Kisame had dried his tears, picked himself up, and wandered off in a random direction, not caring where he ended up as long as it was far away from his parents and the man they had tried to sell him to.
"Kisame-sensei," Chihiro said tentatively, looking up at him. "What are you thinking about?"
Even as he grew up, tall and big and strong—taller and bigger and stronger than most people were—there were words that he could never escape.
Words like "monster", or "freak", or "unnatural". Over time, they became nothing more than what they were—a certain arrangement of sounds and characters. The derision that had stung so badly as a child turned into little more than mosquito bites.
But even then—
I think all I ever wanted was acceptance.
He'd finally gotten it after building a name for himself, even going so far as to start a dojo in Akatsuki, Ame's martial arts hub. It had been immensely popular, although it's popularity did lose traction when Uzumaki Naruto spread rather vicious rumors about his loss to Uchiha Itachi.
"Hoshigaki-sama." Itachi stood before removing his Akatsuki cloak and placing it on the chair he had been sitting on. "Shall we?"
Kisame took one last sip of his tea before straightening, his eyes gleaming at the prospect of a challenge. "Yes, let's."
He could not deny it, though.
Itachi was a good man.
And while Naruto was a cheeky little bastard, he had his good points, too, keeping the morale up with honest words and heart.
Then Chihiro had come unexpectedly, and Kisame's interest had been piqued enough for him to take her under his wing.
She never shirked from him. Never feared him.
Acceptance.
He had finally found it.
And she wasn't the only one who gave it to him.
But no matter what, he was glad for it.
"Heh." Chihiro blinked up at him when his hand landed gently on her head, ruffling her hair. Despite her status as a child, her muscles were firm now, and her hands calloused from handling weapons. The results of training with Kisame—training that she herself had requested. "Nothing for you to worry about, kid. Say, want to get some dango? I'm meeting Itachi later this afternoon, and he loves the stuff."
Chihiro beamed. "Of course, sensei!"
"You don't seem like the kind to believe in myths and legends, much less put your faith in them," Sasori remarked as they trekked through the forest. The trees were getting thinner and thinner, and they were starting to see more rocks and ice in the environment.
"Yes, well." Konan glanced skyward before focusing back on the path in front of her. "I wouldn't have made this decision without more substantial evidence. I'll admit, there was a lot of piecing together seemingly obscure and unrelated things, but..."
"It's a gamble."
"One I'm willing to take." Her voice was firm. "The moment I spoke with Danzo, my wings were clipped. If I go back to Ame, Nagato will be reluctant to let me on the field again. I'm effectively useless in this war now—the only thing I have to offer now is this."
Sasori nodded tersely, giving no verbal reply. Instead, he shirked in his travel cloak a little bit, feeling cold wind bite at his exposed skin. He'd have to put a glove on his flesh arm soon or risk frostbite; even circling chakra through his fingers would not totally save him from that. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but there was a certain wrongness permeating the air. The hairs on the back of his neck raised, he came to a halt.
Konan stilled, too, as did Sai.
Doubt overcame them at that moment, and any differences they all might have had were set aside as they assumed a formation that protected their backs, their weapons raised (in the case of Sai, he merely raised his arms, prepared to engage in taijutsu).
A snow hare raced out, and a split second later, Konan's kunai had flown through it.
"Dinner," she said dully as they waited for something else to happen.
Sasori let out a noncommittal grunt. "It's small, but it'll do."
Tense silence stretched between them as they stood still, prepared to attack. They did not ease up even once, the instincts that had been drilled into them since young coming into play.
Everything happened in a blur.
"Duck!" Konan shouted when a log came flying out of the trees, moldy ropes suspending them in the air. Her eyes widened briefly when Sasori chose to jump instead, cursing under her breath as she rolled out of the way, feeling Sai whisk past her. He's... running?! Now of all times?!
There. Sasori's eyes narrowed as he honed in on Sai's retreating figure, a kunai flying out of his sleeve and through the air. It penetrated through the boy's hand, pinning him to a nearby tree. In mid-air, he twisted his hips, landing on his feet on the suspended log, which was swinging back and forth like a pendulum. Without warning, he cut the ropes, and gravity took hold of the contraption. Konan rolled out of the way, paper wings quickly forming at her back as she withdrew two black and white war fans—representing yin and yang—and cut the log into three pieces.
Before they could catch their breaths, arrows came flying out of the canopy, and, both of them swearing, they were forced to take action, Konan shielding herself with her chakra-laced wings and Sasori doing his best to dodge them as he summoned one of his sturdier puppets to cover him.
"Left," he heard Konan breathe, and shuriken nearly cut his jugular, the red-haired man leaning to the right enough just to avoid a death blow.
Panting a little more heavily than he would have liked—the air was thinner up in the mountains—Sasori felt his bones rattle as he regathered his bearings, all of his muscles coiled as he prepared for a hostile encounter with the men who were responsible for the traps.
Wincing, Konan unfurled her wings, looking a little worse for wear as their attackers finally revealed themselves.
Twelve samurai, if the heavy, segmented plate armor covering their shoulders, chest, stomach, and lower back were any indication.
Sasori's hand reached for a sheathed tanto strapped around his thigh.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," one of them stated before he could do anything. He was an odd-looking fellow, Sasori decided, with his long grey hair and bandages wrapped around his head.
Sneering, Sasori reluctantly let his hand fall to the side. "Tch! I thought you people were supposed to be honorable." It was difficult keeping any bite out of his tone, so he didn't bother. "And here you are, avoiding direct confrontation by throwing weapons like cowards."
"That's enough," Konan said sharply, leading Sasori to glare at her. She met his gaze evenly. "We didn't come all the way here to antagonize them."
"Mifune-sama," one of the samurai turned to one who had spoken first, "What should we do with them?"
Sai tilted his head, unflinching as one samurai broke formation, stalked over to him, and removed him carefully from the tree. "If only you had died," he said, ignoring the samurai. "It would be much easier, Prickly and Angel."
Sasori stood his ground, even when Mifune's dark, piercing gaze seemed to bore right into his very soul, sweat beading at his temple. Then Mifune turned away. "The dark-haired one is injured, as is the woman. We'll take them back to camp first before deciding anything." He glanced at Konan, whose wings were hanging awkwardly in the air, broken and torn with weapons still embedded in them. "I cannot sense ill intent—merely desperation. The least we can do is hear them out."
There was no moon tonight.
In the house he shared with Itachi, Sasuke, wearing his pajamas, pored over the paperwork he had brought home with him.
The floor creaked, and Sasuke looked up from his desk to see Itachi lingering at the doorway to his room.
It was then Sakura's words came back to him.
"Sasuke. Or am I speaking to a ghost? It's hard to tell these days."
"Hn. I don't know what you mean." Sasuke frowned. "If you've come here to waste my time, then—"
"I didn't come here for any of the sort," she said coolly. Then she sighed. "Even back then you were a workaholic. I guess that's something we have in common, but you're stuck in there even more than I am at the hospital."
"What are you trying to say?"
"Where is Uchiha Sasuke?" she asked him, and he thought it was an idiotic question before mulling over her words. "Because I haven't seen him for ages, and neither has anyone else. Even your brother, I'm willing to bet."
"Sakura." He turned away. "You're annoying."
"Sasuke. Don't hole yourself away like this. Don't forget that you have a life, too, and that you're important to other people." If she said anything after that, he didn't hear it.
"Yes?" Sasuke said wearily. pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache creeping up on him.
"Otouto. You should sleep now."
"Can't. I have work."
"Then I'll do it for you."
Sasuke's brow lowered. "Don't. This is my redemption, Itachi."
Itachi raised his eyebrows at the notion.
"I've been a coward. I know that." A muscle in Sasuke's jaw twitched. "I have sullied the name of justice while trying to make it my own. So let me make amends."
"Sasuke..." There was a sadness in Itachi's eyes that Sasuke hated. "Whatever redemption you need, overworking yourself isn't the way to do it. Take a break."
"I'm fine," Sasuke snapped, a tad more irritable than he usually was. "You go to bed. Looking after Izuna must be exhausting."
"It is. But I wouldn't mind swapping roles with you. You love Izuna as much as I do, Sasuke. You should go spend more time with him. It'll make you less tired."
At first, Sasuke merely stared. Then he grunted, giving way. "Fine. Tomorrow, I'll take him out. It's been too long anyway." Sasuke picked up the candle on his desk and walked toward Itachi, startling. "Are... You're not usually this pale. Are you sick?"
"It's just a cold," Itachi reassured him.
"In that case, then rest already!" Sasuke let out an exasperated sigh, and Itachi couldn't help but smile at how quickly their roles had reversed. "I'll take care of Izuna—I'll get Asagi-san to help, too. Now will you please go to bed?"
"Yes, yes." Itachi chuckled. "Goodnight Sasuke."
Then he was gone, and Sasuke stared at the empty doorway. Itachi... if there was really something wrong, you would tell me, wouldn't you? Doubt crept into his mind and whispered sweet nothings into his ear, but he shook it away, crawling into bed and falling asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
It was a cloudy morning today, though patches of blue sky could be seen occasionally.
In a cafe near town square, Kurenai and Deidara sat, talking amicably. Mirai was at school today, finally well enough to return to her kindergarten. Deidara lifted her cup of hot milk tea to her mouth as Kurenai stirred sugar into her coffee, looking contemplative.
Deidara cleared her throat. "I'm glad we finally have a chance to talk," she began diplomatically. Kurenai's gaze shifted up to her face, eyes as red as the Sharingan looking troubled.
"Yes," Kurenai replied evenly. "Thank you for looking after my daughter during your stay. And for the present."
The blonde waved it off. "It's fine, yeah." It was from Asuma anyway, not me. I just happened to be here and there.
"I suppose the least I could do for you is this." Kurenai sighed. "Where to begin?"
On Deidara's lap was her bronze typewriter, the one Fatso had practically gifted her on her first day of the job. "Well," she offered her a tentative smile, "We have all afternoon, un. Take your time."
"I—oh!" Kurenai lifted her hand to her painted mouth when an owl swooped in suddenly and landed on Deidara's shoulder, the blonde unflinching at its arrival. "You...?"
"Ah, right!" Smirking, Deidara outstretched one arm, and the owl hopped from her shoulder onto her forearm, its clay talons wrinkling the white sleeve of her blouse. "You haven't been acquainted with my art now, have you? Don't worry," she added when Kurenai gave it a wary look, "it's harmless, un."
"It's well-trained."
"Of course. After all, it's essentially a part of me, un." She sighed, almost wistful. "It's fussy about the weather though. It'll melt if its too cold, too hot, or too rainy." Hence why she hadn't been able to use it much in the mountains, where the climate had crippled her abilities. To demonstrate, Deidara moved her chakra around her body, and before long, and owl had been reverted into a lump of clay.
Kurenai's eyes were wide. "Amazing. Is this your kekkei genkai?"
"Mm. Though I prefer to call it my art, un. The beauty lies in its transience—a reflection of the nature of everything to ever exist." Deidara cleared her throat, a small flush appearing on her cheeks. "We're getting off track."
"I don't mind going off on tangents—I'm still trying to gather my thoughts together... If you don't mind me asking, why exactly did you have it out to begin with?"
"Oh." Deidara's voice was almost flippant in its nonchalance. "An extra pair of eyes would never hurt, un. Especially in times like these."
"Yes." Kurenai sounded a little stunned despite her agreement. "Yes, of course..."
They left it there, and for the next hour, Kurenai told her story.
Patient and hanging onto every word, Deidara was almost perfectly quiet as she tapped away expertly on the typewriter, Kurenai occasionally glancing down at how deftly her fingers moved across the keys.
"I didn't get a single ryo from my father," she told Deidara at some point. "Asuma had his inheritance, but it wasn't much since he's the second son. The spare to the Sarutobi Clan. The Third was a firm believer in fairness of all things, and, aside from a few favors, he treated my husband no differently than the average Konoha citizen. I suppose I should be grateful, though, or Asuma might be fighting in a war. Or even... dead."
"There's a fine line between the two," Deidara commented, speaking for the first time since Kurenai had began her tale.
"Aa. But we're lucky that way." Kurenai's eyes closed as peace washed over her features. "When Mirai was born, we were so happy. We got to watch her grow up for four years... then the war started, and Asuma had to leave. I won't lie to you—sometimes, his absence is almost crippling. Especially..." Her throat bobbed, and she shielded her face with one hand, exhaling sharply. "Mirai. She asks for him every day. And every day, I'm forced to disappoint her. I just want this war to be over already. It sounds selfish of me, but... Why should we have to suffer because of the whims of others? Why do I have to tell my daughter every single day that her daddy isn't back yet? Sometimes, the war doesn't feel real to me. But then I get reminded of who's still here and who isn't, and I..."
Deidara paused in her typing, looking up from the paper.
"I know it's out there," Kurenai finally finished. "And maybe I'm not out there fighting. Maybe nobody I love is facing death at every corner—"
Deidara's breath hitched in her throat, feeling her heart twist from his absence and the sore reminder.
"—but it's out there, and it's affected my life more than I would like." The black-haired woman's hands fidgeted nervously. "Deidara-san—can this be off the record from now on?"
The younger woman dropped her hands. "Sure. You've already given me plenty, un."
"I just need to know... How old are you?"
"Nineteen," Deidara answered promptly. "I'll be twenty this May, un. Why?"
"Nineteen..." She muttered the number under her breath as if it were of utmost importance, Deidara giving her a quizzical stare. When Kurenai finally stopped staring at her hands, she murmured, "You're much younger than I expected. You're barely an adult. And yet," her voice grew sad, "why do I get the feeling that you've seen much more than you should have? When I look at you, I don't see what I want to see."
She was almost afraid to ask. "Then," Deidara said cautiously. "What do you see, hm?"
"A girl who has been forced to grow up far too quickly." When Deidara didn't answer right away, Kurenai tacked on hurriedly, "I'm sorry if this is presumptuous of me—"
"Don't be," Deidara interrupted. "You're... not wrong, yeah."
"I wish I was."
"Maybe in another world." Deidara stretched, stifling a yawn. "Thanks for giving me your time, Kurenai-san."
"It's really no problem." Kurenai downed the last drop of her coffee before standing. "I'll treat you today."
"Oh, you don't have to—"
"No. Just let me do this for you, please. It's not every day I encounter someone like you."
Deidara raised an eyebrow, but didn't question it in the end. Kurenai meant no ill will toward her, and what laced her tone wasn't the sort of saccharine pity that she hated. "Thanks," she said eventually, packing up her things and draining the remainder of her milk tea, which was now lukewarm and bordering on cold.
They parted ways then, and Deidara went off to the next person she was going to see.
Ami was working behind the counter of the bakery and handing bread to a customer when Deidara walked in.
"Oh, hey." Ami's greeting was unenthusiastic. By now, Deidara's face was something she was used to seeing often. "Did you need something?"
"You said you wanted to hear the bell ring, didn't you?" Deidara crossed her arms. "If the bell rings again, maybe the prayers of the people will finally be heard, right?"
The purple-haired girl blinked, surprised. "How did you...?"
"Mirai-chan."
"Ah. Did you come all the way here to tell me that?" Ami scoffed. "In any case, you're wasting your time. That bell tower carried the town's hopes and dreams in its music. And now... I doubt it'll ever ring again."
"Awfully pessimistic, aren't you?" Deidara observed, voice wry. "Kindergarten should be letting out soon—if we hurry, we can meet Kurenai and Mirai there."
"What? What are you talking about? Hey! Don't just leave!"
Deidara, standing at the doorway, smirked. "Then get your ass into gear. I don't have all day, you know!"
Muttering curses, Ami shouted something to her father before throwing off her apron and tossing it across the counter. She ran after Deidara, who was walking at a fast pace. "You know," she said as she finally caught up. "You could have waited just a little longer for me."
"Kindergarten waits for no one," Deidara told her, and Ami couldn't help but think how odd the sentence was coming out of her mouth. But sure enough, when they arrived at Mirai's school, Kurenai was already standing at the gates, a stream of young students walking around her as they chattered and looked for their parents.
"Deidara!" Kurenai exclaimed when she saw them. "And Ami, too. What brings you two here?"
"Beats me." Ami gave Deidara a sharp glance. "She wouldn't tell me what's going on."
Deidara merely shrugged. "You'll find out soon enough, un."
"Okaa-chan!" Before Ami or Kurenai could reply, Mirai came running full speed out of the gates and launched herself at Kurenai, sending the woman stumbling backward a little.
"Musume-chan," Kurenai cooed, effectively distracted. "How was school, dear?"
"It was great!"
"Was it now?"
Mirai chirped on and on before Deidara finally cleared her throat, gaining all of their attention.
"Deidara-nee-san!" Mirai had finally noticed her. "Ami-nee, you're here, too?! Wow!"
Ami affectionately pinched the girl's cheek. "Yep. Although I don't really know why? Care to explain, Deidara-san?"
"I was about to, yeah." The blonde tucked a strand of hair behind her air. "It's about the bell tower. This town needs it back, or it'll be destined to be hopeless forever. I... spoke to a friend the other day. I think I know what to do."
"Tell me," Guitar Man said as they sat together by the fountain, holding warm mugs of creamy soup. It was a cold, crisp spring morning, one that would have been unusual anywhere else in the world. But in the lonely little town that sat atop a high plateau surrounded by forest-capped mountains, it was merely the norm. "What was your father like?"
"My father?" Deidara halted her drinking, giving the question some thought. "He was... childish, un. Petty and childish and hot-tempered." She pushed some of her hair out of the way, huffing. "I think," she added dryly, "I probably take after him more than I like, yeah."
Guitar Man hummed. "How odd. Do you despise your father?"
She let out a noncommittal grunt. "No. He wasn't the most virtuous man in the world, but who am I to judge? I've done worse things than him, un. Honestly, I'm more surprised that my mother married him than anything else. Although," she hesitated, "it wasn't like he was a bad father to me. I took after him more than my mother, and I considered him my best friend at some point. Anyway," Deidara shook her head, "Why are you asking, hm?"
"No particular reason. I just remembered, is all, that your mother had many a suitor in her youth."
"I'm not surprised. She was beautiful, un."
"Not only that," Guitar Man told her. "But there was a certain magnetism she possessed—a certain something, a certain quality, that drew many toward her, including me. My affections toward her are nothing more than deep admiration, but I had a friend who was quite romantically interested in her."
At that, Deidara's brow lifted. "Yeah?"
"His name was Kuboki Yasuji," Guitar Man pointed up at the tower, "and before he died, he was responsible for the bell tower's music."
"What? Seriously? Wasn't he old? As in much older than her?"
"Indeed. Almost twenty years her senior, I do believe."
"Hm..." Well, it's not like I have room to judge, she reminded herself with a wry smile. After all, the wide age gap between her and Sasori was nothing to sniff at, and that wasn't exactly stopping them.
"She was already married by then, Kuboki-san told me. He accepted that she would never return his feelings, but he never stopped loving her. He told me, before he died, that it was she who encouraged him to pursue his art, even when his parents relied on him to make money at the book store." Guitar Man drank the rest of his soup. "She only came here once for a few days. But it was enough for him. Before she left, she sang for him. She sang to him Mirai. Gave him hope for the future."
Deidara was silent, staring into the lukewarm contents of her cup. Then she looked up, eyes fixed on the tip of the bell tower, which twisted around itself as each vine of silver metal wrestled for the sky. "What are you not telling me?" she asked in the end.
"He never saw her again. But his love for her was undying and genuine. It took him months, but he finally managed to recompose Mirai for the tower. But he never played it. Told me he would only play it when the world was ending. Because from despair, hope is born." He stood, feeling his bones crack. "To make sure nobody ever got their hands on it, he hid it away in the tower. I've never been able to find it. The music I play helps people forget their despair. But it is not enough." Though he could not see, he managed to follow her gaze anyway, tilting his chin heavenward so that, if circumstances were different, he would have been able to see the bell tower standing tall, proud, and alone. "She gave us hope.
"Why don't we see... if she can give them hope, too?"
It was a long way up to the control room. Ami was panting by the time they got up there, wiping sweat off her forehead and without any energy left to grumble and groan about her situation.
Mirai had gotten too tired to walk halfway up, and had to be carried by Kurenai. She was still in her mother's arms, although demanding to be put down so that she could help look.
"Kuboki-san left the track here somewhere, un," Deidara, wholly unfazed by the long walk up, insisted as she went through old bookshelves and scoured the metal walls for any clue or trace of Mirai.
"Are you sure?" Kurenai sounded skeptical, and rightly so. She pulled out a book from one of the shelves, thumbing through it with a thoughtful frown on her face.
"What is it, okaa-chan?" Mirai pulled at Kurenai's dress.
"A diary?" Ami was peering over Kurenai's shoulder, having gotten her breath back. "Is it Kuboki-san's?"
"Tell me if you find anything!" Deidara called over her shoulder as she continued to examine the wall art.
It was nearing two o'clock in the afternoon when Kurenai—who was sitting in a circle with Ami and Mirai—finally found something. "Deidara?"
"Hm? What is it? Find anything?" Blonde hair obscured Kurenai's vision for a second as Deidara squatted behind her.
"What does the 'Golden Lighting Flower' look like?" Kurenai passed the book to Deidara, whose eyes had widened slightly at the reference. The black-haired woman watched as Deidara skimmed through the contents of the page, mouth slightly parted.
"It was a lotus flower," she said in the end, slowly. "It looked like any ordinary one, except that it glowed golden in the dark, un." It'd been the first play of her mother's that Deidara had ever attended. It told the story of a lost princess in a dystopian world, wandering the world until she was discovered by a knight who was eager to return her to her rightful place on the throne. It was quite a childish one compared to some of her other plays, but it was one that Deidara had never let herself forget, even after she buried all other memories of Iwa away. 'Tis an old man's fantasy, hm? Looking up from the leather-bound book, she glanced around, taking in the wall art as a whole rather than in parts for the first time. "Of course."
Ami lifted an eyebrow. "Of course what?"
"How did I not see it before?!" Deidara laughed, the sound caught between mirthless, amused, and pained as she stood once more. If she'd heard Ami's inquiry, she chose to ignore it. "This entire room... it's just an old man's fantasy. Kurenai, what are the other books about?"
Bemused, Kurenai sifted through some of them. "Stories," she informed the blonde. "Most of them are stories. Adventure ones, fairy tales..."
"Kuboki-san was a dreamer," concluded Deidara, folding her arms as her gaze followed the snaking tree branches of metal. No wonder he fell in love with her. Anyone anything like him would. Walking forward, she gingerly placed one hand—the one with its mouth sewn shut—on a random branch, following its path. "Mirai!"
The girl in question skipped over to her. "Yes?"
"The Golden Lighting Flower was located in a tree-covered swamp. These are the trees," she motioned around the room, "and so the swamp must be on the floor, un. Can you help me find it?"
Mirai beamed. "Of course! Ami-nee-chan, come help!"
"Alright, alright!"
From despair, hope is born. For the first time in a long time, hope began to flutter in Deidara's chest. It was a dangerous thing, she knew, one that could certainly lead her to death if the situation was dire enough. But she took the leap, and kept the gift called hope beating alongside her heart as she searched the floor for the flower that was certainly there. Hope. Hope for the future, because there is one.
They swept books aside (Kurenai exasperatedly but also excitedly putting them back into their rightful places) and tossed the rug into a pile, uncovering the stone floor. Then, stepping back, they admired the view.
A lotus flower greeted them, its depicted glow repelling the vines and tree branches that reached for it, that wished to cause it harm. Even through the deepest, darkest mud, it bloomed, unrelenting and stubborn in its beauty.
Finally, Deidara walked up to the centre of the flower, crouching and tapping the stone with her knuckles. It was hollow. Mirai. Excitement sent shivers down her spine, and she wasted no time in digging her nails into gaps in the stone and pulling it aside—it slid open with some resistance.
Inside sat a smooth, heavy metal disc, an elaborate design streaking across it.
Ami breathed out, "Is that...?"
"Un." Deidara held it up toward the skylight. "It is. Kuboki-san... made this for my mother. For the town." Ami's eyes lit up in surprise, but Deidara went on, "Maybe Mirai only existed in a fantasy, but it was a symbol of hope. Just like this tower, before the war began."
Pensive, they all four of them marched up to the contraption in the front of the room, facing north. The shape of it reminded Deidara of her typewriter, only it had a recess in the centre that was clearly meant for the disc she held. Slowly, she brought the metal plate toward it, but before it could reach, Mirai tugged on her sleeve.
"Could I..." The little girl hesitated. "Can I put it in? Please?"
At first, Deidara said nothing, considering her. Then she nodded, giving the girl the disc. "It's heavy, yeah," she warned.
"Mhm." Mirai had to stand on her toes, but she managed to slide it in. It fit perfectly, a clicking sound echoing through the room.
"There's a book of instructions here," Kurenai, having gone back to the bookshelves, notified them. "After putting it in, you have to pull the lever."
"I got it." It was Ami who answered, walking over to the lever on the side of the machine and trying to push it down. When she continued to struggle, the contraption obviously stiff with age, Mirai and Kurenai went over to help, and the combined strength of all three of them finally did it in. The lever dropped, almost touching the ground, and Deidara's breath got caught in her throat when the cogs embedded in the skeletal metal walls around them began to move. At first, they merely creaked, a metallic whine piercing their ears, but then the movement grew more fluid, more natural.
The chime of a bell shattered the desolate silence of the town, echoing in their ears.
Mirai. Deidara was vaguely aware of Mirai shrieking in delight and Ami gasping and bringing her hands to her mouth, the latter trying to pretend that tears—of shame, of self-pity, of whatever—weren't welling up in her dark eyes. Hope for the future. Is this what I'm finally seeing... okaa-chan?
She turned around, where the sun shone brightly behind the clouds, which were slowly beginning to part, and was almost blinded. A wind blew through the gaps in the metal, vine-like walls, sending ripples throughout their loose, flowing clothing.
From despair, Guitar Man had said, hope is born.
The weight she hadn't known was still there started to rise from her shoulders.
They'd been through hell and back. All of them.
If she closed her eyes, she could see Sasori's back as he left Konoha, the image etched on the back of her eyelids. He'll return safely. He has to. But now—
Shikamaru resisted the urge to steeple his fingers as he sat through the first meeting with Suna diplomats, staring anywhere but at Temari's teal eyes.
Some two or three seats away, Shino was scribbling away on a scroll.
Putting his paperwork into a drawer, Sasuke tended to Izuna, listening closely as Asagi instructed him on how to burp a baby, Shogo occupying himself by playing with Daichi and Hikari, both of whom had come over while their mother worked.
In another room, Itachi prepared, hand moving fluidly across paper.
Sasori glared in the distant peak of White Fang Mountain as the samurai surrounded them in their escort, two of them helping Konan along and another keeping Sai from bleeding out too much.
A cold chill bit into his cheeks, but he kept going.
Gai's voice rose into a roar as he encouraged his student—a fourteen-year-old boy—in his spar against Tenten, who wielded her bo staff with tenacity that most could only dream of. Not too far away, Lee had engaged another student in a fierce but friendly fight.
Sakura moved deftly in her rounds, while Shizune discussed with Tsunade about turning the former's many properties into makeshift hospitals if the war ever came to head.
Konohamaru, Moegi, and Udon exchanged barbed words with Hanabi as she dragged them and Hinata to one of the community meetings about how to bunker down during air raids, only shutting up when they arrived into a solemn room.
We can't stop moving forward.
Guitar Man looked up at the bell tower as his back was warmed by sunlight. Content, his shoulders sagged. "Look's like the sun's finally out."
A/N: If anyone is curious as to why Konan is injured, it's because her paper wings are part of her body, even in this AU.