Hi readers! I got all your amazing reviews and yes, I love them all super a lot and everything! As promised, here is chapter 29 after the tail end of it got a look-through by my beta BossladyRiver. There's not much to say about this chapter, it's another one of those filler-my-style chapters so there's that. The plot is moving really quickly (for me at least) right now because all of the subplots that I wrote out over the last year are finally coming to fruition, so I hope you like it!

Funfact: the mentor/mentee + eroticism relationship of shudo was supposed to end once the younger man had reached his majority of some sort. After that a lot of the relationship was supposed to stop, and people who didn't stop it were seen as clingy. You could go on to have other such relationships but at some point it was considered as quite shameful for one or both parties. So hence Anko's unease concerning her father's letter.

Funfact: I think I've mentioned this before, but the shogun's castle was actually damaged in the Meireki Fire and was restored/repaired/rebuilt last within the city of Edo. I haven't done much research into it (frankly I've been awake for far too long at the moment), but doesn't that seem like a massive PR move?

Funfact: I've tried to be fairly meticulous with the use of "-sama" with people's names if they're higher ranking than Kakashi or Sakura, because I felt and still feel like that matters with this story. There's no other Japanese words other than item-specific words such as shoji (rice paper door), ofuro (Japanese bathtub), butsudan (Buddhist shrine in the home), and a few others. This is also on purpose because I really hate stories which have "Gomen," (although I did use that with Naruto once, I remember now, but that was to illustrate a point) and "arigatou!," and others. They sort of infuriate me depending on how they're used.

With all of this in mind, I bring your attention to Gama Jiraiya, Lord Gama. Sticking with the previous notions of class and hierarchies, shouldn't this man be referred to in the story as…Gama…sama?

I've tried, readers. I've tried for months. I still can't type "Gama-sama," with a straight face and there is no way you'll likely ever see him referred to as such in Samurai. You can't make me! You can't make me put a beard on Kakashi, you can't make me take a beard off of Iruka, and you can't make me call Jiraiya "Gama-sama."

So without further ado,

Enjoy!

Jiraiya smiled grimly as he watched the litter-bearers leave the prison compound, all of them coughing and gagging at the smell rising up from the body they carried. It wasn't justice for Tsunade-hime, but at least it was something to use against Orochimaru. He had tried to have Orochimaru's fief taken from him all those years ago, but had had no case—Tsunade-hime had been a minor princess, only distantly related to the emperor, and so no heads were demanded after her suicide. Jiraiya had been beside himself with grief at the time—her family had said that her child had died, which was why she'd killed herself. Lies, just lies—ones he had found out about only recently in the last five years or so.

He would have to leave Edo soon if he wanted to beat Orochimaru out of town—the man would likely only sulk for a few days before deciding to collect Tsunade-hime's child. Jiraiya touched his kimono where, hidden in a pocket close to his heart, was a document he had gotten the other four regents as well as the young shogun to sign—Tsunade-hime's child should have been his own, and was it so hard to allow him to adopt what was rightfully his?

"Fetch me Iruka-san," he said as the smell cleared and the shouts of the litter-bearers grew dim as they made haste towards the Hebi clan compound. The man at his left elbow ghosted away towards the guest wing where Jiraiya had stationed the Sarutobi heir and his wife—although the wife had grated at him. Umino Anko was a wildcard, especially with her loyalties. Based on his interactions with her, Jiraiya hoped that she was more loyal to her husband than her father, but that was something he preferred to leave up in the air. He did not give his trust easily anymore, certainly not after what the woman's father had done to him.

Jiraiya gazed out at the city from the open gate. So many people had died, thousands upon thousands, but he would rebuild. He would rebuild the shogun's castle last—a goodwill measure for the people, to see the progress of reconstruction so stunted at the very top of government would warm their hearts towards how slowly the city recovered. The recovery would take a long time, he feared. They were still finding bodies occasionally under the rubble of houses which had collapsed and had other buildings fall on them.

He would leave tonight, with Iruka and Anko in tow behind him—far too soon for her to engineer a message to her father if she were inclined towards it, and he had already received some politely irate letters from Sarutobi Hiruzen about his continued detainment of the man's heir. There were days that he was truly glad to have only had a daughter—this business of sons could get so far out of hand. Thinking for a moment, Jiraiya also decided to bring his own daughter with him. One could never have too much protection, either of one's person or one's house.

"Is there fish tonight? Please say there is fish tonight, Sakura-san!" Naruto's voice questioned her from the porch as he came outside, fiddling with his yukata—Tenzou's castoffs (which had become Sai's clothing briefly) had become Naruto's clothing, allowing him a few changes of clothes every week. Sakura looked up at him where he squatted on the porch, her hands grimy from weeding the garden. His big blue eyes pleaded with her, his tongue barely in check as he tried to make his case. The past weeks had been interesting as he ran into the problem that despite Ume and Sakura's appearances, they didn't speak whatever nonsense he'd hoped for.

"I don't know, Naruto, you should ask Tenzou."

"But Tenzou-san hates fishing, he'll say no!"

While Ume tried to corral him away from her daughter, Naruto routinely escaped and sat on his haunches near wherever Sakura was, talking lightning fast, often reverting to that gibberish he spoke. That first afternoon, nearly a month ago, had been awkward as Naruto had mostly stared at her—of course, that was probably because Kakashi had slapped his hands away from her initially. The yellow haired man had approached her with his arms outstretched, grinning as though he meant to embrace her. The days afterwards he kept his distance, wary of Kakashi who was never far from her side. They had him rooming with Tenzou and Sai in the rapidly filling house.

"Ask Sai, then, Naruto."

Sakura decided—upon seeing that Naruto would be staying with them for the time being—that hinting would get her nowhere and had told Kakashi in bold terms that they would have to change the layout of the house complex soon because they were running out of room. More rooms were required if he wanted to keep certain rooms designated as he wanted them to be. Sai chose that moment to make himself known, having ghosted out to the porch shortly after Naruto did.

"Sakura-san, you said yesterday that one of your commissions is completed—would you like me to deliver it to town?" Sakura sighed carefully so as not to start coughing—something which invariably had Kakashi coming into whatever room she was in and removing whatever was in her hands out of her hands. She needed that commission delivered sooner rather than later, just to make sure that she collected full-price on the small outfit. She also didn't want to have to watch Naruto pout for the rest of the night.

"Please deliver it for me, Sai, that would be wonderful. Naruto, I will ask Kakashi if he will go fishing for you." Which meant she was sentencing Tenzou to fishing duty because Kakashi hated fishing and foisted it onto Tenzou whenever possible.

The days began to warm towards summer and the illness residing in her lungs dissipated—both of these were welcome changes to the brisk weather of spring and the misery of her sickness. An even more welcome change was the evidence that her child had not been victim of the fevers and coughing. There had been no blood indicating a miscarriage, but she had feared she'd lost the baby nonetheless. The firming and eventual growth of her lower abdomen had been cause for celebration for herself and Kakashi, even though he insisted that he would have blamed himself if she had miscarried. Kurenai, who Sakura was finally well enough to see in person, visited often—bringing her little girl who was now a few weeks old. Little Ayame was a blessing from the gods to Kurenai, and she loved the little girl through any fuss the child could muster.

Kakashi's rice crop was growing well—Asuma had spared no expense on the help he'd hired so many weeks ago, after all it had been the first time the daimyo's nephew had been able to heap his considerable wealth onto his old friend. Kakashi and Tenzou spent their mornings out in the fields, making sure everything was as it should be, and then came back to the house at around midday. Tenzou would grab Naruto and have the young man help with the chores while Sai trailed behind them as was his habit. Sometimes he carried his small ink set and paper with him, sometimes he did not.

Kakashi meanwhile would come back into the house and speak with her father, the two of them being well educated in their youth and having much to talk about. Sakura and her mother worked as quickly as they could on the remaining commissions from the village women, sitting in the room where her parents slept at night and by day she did her sewing in.

Again it was the smell which had Orochimaru's complete attention. That morning had dawned early—summer would soon be upon them—and with it came a note from Lord Gama, Ietsuna's most trusted advisor of recent years, that later in the afternoon Sasuke would be arriving at the house. Orochimaru had taken the time to bathe, giving his skin and hair the proper attention so as to be flawless when the young man arrived. Hours ago he had idly wondered how he would know of Sasuke's arrival—a messenger accompanying him? Or perhaps a litter, showing the deference to be given the heir-to-be of a Kyoto lord? Now as he stood in the courtyard, awaiting Sasuke's arrival into it, Orochimaru knew what Gama had done.

He glanced away at the last moment as the servants bearing the small stretcher entered the courtyard. He had seen and smelt death before, it was not something to be forgotten.

"The shogun extends his apologies, it would appear that one of the other prisoners strangled Uchiwa Sasuke a few days ago—they're not fed every day so it was only this morning that he was found. Lord Gama extracted a confession out of Uchiwa Itachi who claims he murdered his younger brother out of religious superstition shortly after Uchiwa Sasuke had a visitor."

Orochimaru held a sleeve against his nose, trying to keep the smell at bay. He didn't look at the body, he didn't need to know. His mind was turned towards Gama Jiraiya. The man had been his rival since he was a teenager—they practiced at the same dojo, often sparring against one another, as their mentors looked on. Gama had never been as elegant as himself, but there had been a certain finesse in the way he conducted the rest of his life—never forcing, never showing his hand too soon, and always seeming to throw his lot in with the victor. Orochimaru's own fortunes varied, but were usually good—and Gama was a good enough man back then to never shame him. They could have been considered friends, Orochimaru mused as he turned around so as not to accidentally glance at the body—the body of the man Gama had probably had killed out of spite. If not for that damned woman, we would be friends still.

He had seen her, in the months before she was to be married to Gama Jiraiya, and had wanted her. A sudden greed had possessed him one night in Kyoto, only hours after Gama had left for Edo. Orochimaru had done it, he told himself in later years, just to make sure that Gama for once would not win, in this case the woman's virtue—he had certainly not done it for that stupid princess to fall pregnant, to bear a child. He had refused to claim the infant as his own, and the reactions of Gama's family and that of hers were hardly his fault. If his sister or daughter had a child with no father to claim it, he would have drowned the baby. Certainly not himself. Silly woman.

People reacted in the strangest of ways, Orochimaru decided. He glanced once at the rotten mess that had been Uchiwa Sasuke just a week ago.

"Get rid of it. Burn it for all I care," he said as he started back inside to sulk at the loss of so willing a companion. The smell of the body followed him, however, and soon Orochimaru was back in the bathhouse trying to scrub the scent from his hair and skin.

Tenzou wanted to complain, he really did. He hated fishing, it was boring and tedious, and scaly and slimy and fish smelt awful—and that wasn't the half of it. The only things which made today's trip to the river bearable were Naruto's fascination with fish and the warm weather of almost-summer. The yellow-haired man took everything in his life in stride, only stumbling occasionally when he just didn't know what he was supposed to have done. Kakashi was comfortable around the foreigner, he mused to himself, settling down in the shade with his fishing pole. Kakashi's trust meant that Tenzou would trust him.

He was happy to be out of the house. Ume was spending the day across the fields with Kurenai, helping her around the house mostly, and Masaki was on a trip to Iimori to sign the last official documents concerning selling his business. This meant it was easy to get the last three guests out of the house and give Sakura and Kakashi some desperately needed time alone for the first time since Kakashi had come home—Tenzou had seen the longing for that privacy on Kakashi's face when he'd asked Tenzou to take Naruto fishing for their supper, and he'd heard it in Sakura's voice as she sent Sai on his way towards town.

For being married for such a dull reason as they had been, Kakashi and Sakura had endured a great deal more than either of them had probably ever expected out of life. It had been just over a year now since they'd married, lifting some burdens off of Tenzou's back while laying on others that Kakashi had once been obliged to do. For the first time in a long time, however, Tenzou felt contented in this life as it was. With so many people around the house the chores were reduced for each person, and he had become much more akin to a steward of the house than a servant of it.

It was not the life which Kakashi and Asuma enjoyed, but it now offered more options than it had a year ago. He could perhaps marry and build a small home a little away from the family house, continuing his life in service to the Hatake but carving out a little independence for himself. Although if Tenzou were very honest with himself, it was mostly to escape any further possibility of ever overhearing the lord and lady of the house engaging in anything privately.

If there was anything to hear, he didn't want to be around for it. Little did he know that this particular afternoon there was nothing to overhear.

Sitting outside on the porch with Sakura was Kakashi's favorite thing to do since he'd come home. He spent at least some of each afternoon holding her in some way, either dozing or reading or talking about the future. He told her small stories now and then about his trip to Edo, such as how he'd found Naruto and how Iruka had found him. Sakura would smile even with her eyes closed, leaning against him safely.

Today was different as their house was quiet around them, only the occasional birdsong breaking the silence. Sitting behind her allowed Kakashi to rest his chin on her shoulder, one arm looped around her while the other held her hand. Sakura breathed easily, no longer so strained or rasping.

"My mother says that our little one will come with the rice crop," her voice drifted out, not stating anything directly and not asking for a response. Kakashi hugged her closer to him. He wanted so badly to tell her that her worth to him was not what she could do but who she was—but the last time he had tried to explain it to her she hadn't understood. It was enough to accept her excitement.

"I had wondered, but I wasn't sure how to ask," he said, allowing her to tug his hand towards her abdomen and rest it there. Hopefully there would be no major disasters to herald the birth of their child as there had been at its conception.

Anko was feeling distinctively apathetic about her recent embroidery project. Her father had had her trained in it at a young age—it was a good skill to have to appeal to the most possible marriage prospects. He'd been unable to marry her to anyone higher ranking than a country daimyo, but he had been correct that the skill had appealed to her father-in-law and her husband. It gave her a certain quaintness, her father had said when telling her about the husband he'd found for her. Around her it was quiet in the rooms Lord Gama had given them—an hour ago her husband had been summoned suddenly by the man, and while he had grimaced as he left, Anko hadn't felt the least bit sorry for him. Gama had rescued them from the fire two months ago and had had them living here ever since—living at his beck and call was the least they could do to repay him for his unusual kindness.

She set aside the cloth and needle finally, deciding she would look to that craft again when Iruka was around to see her being particularly wifely. Instead Anko stood and padded over to her private writing desk, an elegant little thing her brother had made for her when she turned ten. Anko's father had given it to her a few months after he had sent her brother away. The carvings on the sides were simple, but she loved it and tried to keep it as nice as possible. Inside it she kept her diaries and letters, as well as plans for various eventualities. Such as the possibility that she couldn't give Iruka the heirs he needed—and the women she approved or disapproved of doing the job for her and her husband.

Also inside was a letter she'd gotten yesterday from her father. He wanted to host her at his home and have her meet the man he was going to make his heir, and was planning on having her visit tomorrow or the next day. Anko was not looking forward to it, since he said he required her presence and it meant she would have to tell Iruka where she was going and why he could not come with her. Not to mention Lord Gama would probably have her followed. It was going to be unpleasant all around—her father had been pretending for years about certain things involving his relationship with the young man he'd mentored. Anko thought it was more than sick, and was glad that she had been married out of the family.

"Anko! Anko, we have to pack!" Iruka's voice called out from the hallway, his feet almost carrying him through the rice paper of the shoji when he skidded to a stop just outside of their rooms.

"Why?" she said, her eyebrows drawing close together as she set aside the letters she had been looking through. Her hands rested protectively on her little writing desk as she waited for Iruka to catch his breath and bearing a little.

"Lord Gama is taking us with him to Fujimi! We leave tonight—well, within the hour he will summon us and we must have bags to travel with. He says that the rest of our belongings will be sent along afterwards, but that we have to leave as soon as possible," Iruka's voice rose with excitement in such a way that Anko barely kept herself from batting a hand at him to quiet him. Didn't he know that anyone could overhear him and that castles in particular were good at having ears in the rafters and eyes in the walls? There was a reason, she reminded herself, that she'd decided for the last three years that Iruka was not fit to be a parent.

Anko glanced at her desk, boxed up prettily with all of her important papers inside. She had never actually been to Fujimi—she and Iruka had been married here in Edo, she had always lived in Edo aside from a few weeks each year in her childhood where she had been in Kyoto with her father. It worried her, to travel with everything she had—all of her secrets—to a place where she knew no one save for Iruka. But this trip to Fujimi was a great deal easier to look forward to than the visit her father had wanted, so she decided to let his letter slip her mind. After all, Iruka's wishes would always be more important than her father's.

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