"I can finally say real and sincere words,

I dedicate this song to you,

Thank you so much,

Thank you so much,

For giving me the chance to live in this world with a heart."

-Kokoro, Lollia

"This is the saddest kunai I've ever seen," Etsudo said loudly, waving a dull, poorly maintained kunai at us. Her other hand was pressed against her side, and she flinched when she raised her arm too high.

The first thing she'd done upon deciding she was healed enough to get up was to take all our weapon pouches and make a pile of kunai and shuriken at the bottom of the stairs.

"This wouldn't be able to cut through melonpan, let alone a person," she chastised. Disgusted, she dropped it back in the pile.

She bent to grab a shuriken, slowly, biting on her lip so hard that I could see spots of red when she straightened.

I crossed my legs, on the floor next to the couch, watching her stare at the rust and the misshapen points with a disturbed sort of belief. It was more of a sharp, bumpy circle than a shuriken.

"How does this even happen?"

"Well," Yahiko drawled, sitting on the back of the couch. "Between all the battles we've fought and won, we barely have time to—"

Konan, pressing both hands against his back, shoved him forward and he tumbled down onto the cushions. "We fought one battle," she corrected. "And it barely counts."

"Still mad that Nagato did all the work while you watched?" he asked, upside-down.

Konan picked up an old, slime-covered shirt and whacked him with it. "And what did you do, huh? Stand back and wait for Nagato to save you?"

Yahiko, hands raised to protect his face, laughed. "I protected the Iwagakure shinobi. Did you see how fast Joji-sensei drew his nagamaki? He was out for blood!"

Etsudo blinked at them for a moment, shuriken half-lowered. Then, dismissing them, she hobbled over to where Mamoru-sensei, Osamu, and Joji sat in a circle, Yahiko's deck of cards in a messy pile between them.

"Fine, fine, they're kids. But what's your excuse for letting their weapons get like this, Mamo?" she asked, fighting to hide how hard she was breathing.

"Kids," Mamoru-sensei scoffed without looking. "Give it a few days and you won't think that."

Joji added a card to the pile. Osamu, after leaning down to look at it, grumbled and threw his hand down. He was still grumbling as he swept the pile closer to himself and began turning all the cards to face the right way.

"'Mamo?'" Konan asked, putting the shirt down.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?" Etsudo asked, a slow grin spreading across her face. She bent, and I saw how hard she was pressing against her side as she slung an arm around Mamoru-sensei's shoulders. "We go way back. Before the Second World War back."

Mamoru-sensei ignored her, surrendering his cards so Osamu could shuffle them. He didn't look up when she leaned close to him, her chin practically resting on his back.

Konan's eyes went wide. "You knew Mamoru-sensei before the war?" she asked. "You have to tell me what he was like. Did you know Osamu-sensei too?"

"No, she didn't," Osamu answered, giving Mamoru a curious look.

Etsudo laughed. "I've got plenty of embarrassing stories. Oh! What about the time in Tanzuku Town when—"

"You're a parasite," Mamoru-sensei grunted. "No matter how hard I try to get rid of you, you keep coming back."

"Is that why you've been ignoring me all week?" she asked. "Because you're embarrassed?

"We were only on one mission together," Mamoru-sensei corrected, ignoring her again.

"And it ended with all of us swearing never to go back," Etsudo said, throwing her head back to laugh. "We got so sick. Our sensei took us to this shady restaurant to celebrate and—"

Mamoru-sensei's sigh was long-suffering.

"—and we were practically babies back then, so we didn't know any better. I still don't know how something that tasted that good could put all of us out of commission like that. It had meat in it, I think? What was it again?"

Mamoru-sensei picked up the cards Osamu dealt to him and didn't answer.

"Well, anyway, we were lucky. It was a standard genin-delivery mission, so we finished it pretty fast. We had way too much time on our hands. But that also meant we had plenty to rest up in our inn rooms until we recovered enough to make the trip back. I still feel bad for whoever had to clean up after us."

Konan covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter. "That sounds awful," she said. "Was it really that memorable?"

Etsudo's easy smile cracked. "Yeah," she said, pulling her arm off Mamoru-sensei. "It was. I retired from active duty not long after that. I found out quickly that I wasn't cut out for shinobi life. But sometimes—" she stopped and closed her eyes.

"—sometimes I wish I hadn't."

"You don't have to talk about it," Konan said quickly, all fake smiles. "I want to hear more about that mission with Mamoru-sensei."

Etsudo sighed. "No. You all saved my life. The least I could do is..." she trailed off. "I used to work under Hanzo and I-I know things. For all I know you're already aware of everything I'm about to say but—" she looked down, shoulders hunching.

Suddenly, she looked very small.

"—I became a blacksmith when I retired. Ran in the family. I won't say I was the best, but I was good at what I did. I was going to give my shop to my son when he was older," she whispered.

It felt like everything stopped. Osamu put down his cards. Mamoru-sensei closed his eyes. Konan winced.

Etsudo took in a deep, shuddering breath. "There aren't many blacksmiths left," she said. "Hanzo—he had me working with Root. Sharpening their blades, fixing the weapons they broke. He's got them running around, pretending to be shinobi of the village. All my other customers died or couldn't pay, so I didn't have much of a choice."

Etsudo's son. Another name to add to the ever-widening list in my head. I pushed myself up. "Why?" I asked.

Why did it lead back to Root, again?

Etsudo wiped her eyes. "There isn't enough of anything here. Money, materials, shinobi. So, Hanzo went and got outside help to fill the hole the dead left in our ranks. I don't know the details of the arrangement he's got with Danzo, but I thought you should know."

I took half a step back, like her words were a physical blow.

How long had Hanzo been working with...?

Did he know that Root was kidnapping orphans?

Neither Osamu nor Mamoru looked surprised.

Etsudo trembled, as strong and breakable as glass. "I want so badly to think that it was an accident. That my shop was caught in the crossfire, because the other option—the alternative is that it was done on purpose. And because I retired, because I chose to let my chakra dwindle and shrink, I couldn't do a damn thing but watch as my entire life fell on top of us."

I looked up at the ceiling. I could see a hole, where rain sometimes dripped down. I was tired.

Tired and sick of death.

How many more times would I have to hear a story like this before we finally had peace?

意図

Osamu blinked at the familiar boy approaching him.

His name, if he remembered right, was Maho.

Maho looked up at him nervously, shivering and rubbing his arms, his red sweater sagging on him. It took him back to a battle of paper wings and slugs, of Yahiko, determined that everyone should live.

A boy who was already proving himself to be a better leader than people twice his age.

Osamu glanced around the area, looking for his comrades, or others that might've followed him. But, as far as he could tell, Maho had come alone.

Though that didn't mean much when he couldn't sense worth a damn.

It was why Mamoru and Namekuji were hidden somewhere behind him under the cover of genjutsu. Osamu didn't quite understand how, but the slug could sense as well as Nagato.

Maho, teeth chattering, stopped in front of him.

Osamu felt for him. It must've been rough, adjusting from the dry, temperate climate of Iwagakure to the cold and the rain. He kept his face impassive, giving the boy his most intimidating stare.

Maho got down on his knees and bowed low. "Please," he managed. "Please let me join the Akatsuki."

Osamu hesitated, because for all the scenarios he'd mentally prepared for, this wasn't one of them. He was well-acquainted on how to deal with injured shinobi, and even how to turn away hostiles and those who begged him for food he didn't have. This was off-script, and he'd never been good with being put on the spot.

His first thought was to ask why.

Why abandon your village for Yahiko?

Mamoru beat him to it though. Melting out of the shadows, it looked like he'd appeared out of thin air next to him.

Maho gasped.

"Why shouldn't we think this is a trap?" he asked.

A different Osamu might have questioned why Namekuji chose to perch on Mamoru's head, or, even more importantly, why Mamoru allowed it.

A less jaded him, maybe.

Maho's head jerked up. "Because—" he stopped, grimacing. "I wasn't going to come back, but we ran into another group before we reached the border and..." he trailed off, eyes dark. "I had to wash the blood off, after. I scrubbed and scrubbed but it wouldn't come off and it felt like earthworms were rolling around in my stomach but no matter how much I threw up they wouldn't come out—"

"Quiet," Mamoru snapped, because Maho became progressively louder as he spoke.

Maho shuddered. "I don't want to fight anymore," he whispered. "Maybe that makes me a coward, I don't care. I never want to have to do that again. I want peace."

Mamoru shook his head and sighed, and Osamu knew what he was thinking, because he was thinking it too.

If Yahiko was here, he already would've let Maho join.

"Welcome to the Akatsuki."

アクション

A map had been drawn on the wall in silver goo, all wiggly, uneven lines, villages and countries neatly labeled in red. Yahiko pointed at Amegakure with a red finger.

"This is where we are," he began, for Kota's benefit. "And the plan—" he traced a line to the right and up through the Land of Fire, stopping in the space between the marker for Konohagakure and Takigakure. "—is to take this path to Suisai."

Joji sat back against the wall nearest to the stairs, nagamaki propped up next to him. Mamoru-sensei was across from him, bent over a scroll unrolled on the floor between them. Parts of it were blotchy and smeared by rain, hard or impossible to read.

"What's 'Suisai'?" Kota asked sleepily. Her head was against my shoulder. It'd taken her all night to find a good chance to lift the scroll.

"It's a town," Yahiko answered, drawing a small circle. "It used to be a rest stop for shinobi going to Takigakure from Konohagakure, or from Kusagakure to Yugakure. The villages that are allied with Konohagakure avoid the area now to protect the people. If shinobi do go there, it almost always ends in a fight and innocent people dying."

"The thing is, Suisai's income mostly came from the shinobi that stayed at inns and resupplied as they passed through. They sold their wheat to Konohagakure, but that's stopped too."

I squinted at him. Kota's head drooped, and I could feel her drool. "Who told you all of that?"

Yahiko blinked. "It was in the scroll. The one you didn't read."

I sniffed daintily and looked away.

"We shouldn't make any plans until we know how much the pay will be," Osamu said.

"That doesn't matter," Yahiko responded, shaking his head. "What's important is the attention. Other than the people here and maybe those Iwagakure shinobi, no one knows who we are. I want more people to know we're out there, that there's a group still looking for peace."

"It would still be nice," Mamoru-sensei said, leaning back.

Yahiko looked up at the roof. "I'm taking Konan, Nagato and Oka with me," he decided.

Osamu's brows furrowed. "I should go with you," he said. "If you're set on this, Nagato should stay behind in case someone injured comes looking for him."

Konan was on the floor, helping Naga stack cards into towers of triangles. "No offense, but you're not exactly subtle, Osamu-sensei," she said with a smile.

Maho sat next to them, watching, legs pulled up to his chest.

Osamu blinked once. "Then Mamoru should go."

Yahiko shook his head. "Mamoru-sensei has to take over while I'm gone," he said. "The Akatsuki can't not have a leader."

Mamoru-sensei sighed, "And I'm assuming my consent is optional?"

"You can say no," Yahiko responded thoughtfully. "But then everything would fall apart."

Mamoru-sensei stared at him.

"What Yahiko is trying to say is that we trust you the most, Mamoru-sensei," Konan said. "The others are okay, but we've known you the longest."

Osamu frowned at that.

"And the reason why I can't accompany you?" Joji signed.

Yahiko pointed at Maho. "You need to watch him."

Maho stiffened.

Joji looked at him, then slowly up at Osamu.

Yahiko stroked his chin. "How do I say this without coming off as rude?"

"Maho might be able to trick Osamu-sensei into letting him go," Konan said with a half-shrug. "You won't, Joji-sensei."

Mamoru scoffed.

Osamu's frown deepened.

Joji stared at Osamu for a few seconds, then went back to trying to decipher the scroll without another word.

"I wouldn't do that," Maho murmured, stuffing his hands under his arms.

"Why Nagato?"

"That one doesn't have a reason," Konan answered without looking. "He just wants Nagato to come too."

Naga tried to add a fourth level to their tower of triangles and the entire thing collapsed. Konan shoved his shoulder, and Naga murmured an apology around a smile.

"Oka doesn't have to go," Osamu tried.

"True," Yahiko agreed, nodding. "But Nagato would throw a fit if I didn't let her. You should've seen how much he cried last time. I think he flooded the place all by himself—"

"I did not," Naga said, the tips of his ears red.

"—and even if I said no, I think most of us can agree that Oka would just follow us anyway."

I smiled, because I would. "Why can't Kota come?"

She'd shifted down and her head was on my leg, her body curled up.

"Because we're leaving at sundown," Yahiko said. "And..." he gestured wildly, and I looked down at her, at the deep shadows under her eyes, at the puddle she left on the ground, because she'd been too tired to change into something dry.

I understood.

I maneuvered out of my cloak as Osamu asked another question, folding it and carefully slipping it under Kota's head so I could stand. I stepped around the couch to where Namekuji was hidden, eating the fatty pieces of meat no one else wanted.

Etsudo was on the couch, curled up, her back to me.

Namekuji didn't stop me from lifting him up. "I never interrupt you when you're eating," he grumbled.

I shifted him in my arms. "You're getting heavy again," I murmured.

"Yet I'm the mean one."

"I'm taking Namekuji with us," I decided, raising my voice.

Mamoru-sensei looked over. "Leave the slug," he said. "We might need him."

"He wouldn't be able to help much. Not unless Naga stays."

"I haven't insulted you once all day," Namekuji went on.

I fought a smile.

"He can still spit acid, can't he?"

"Nope," I said, keeping a straight face. "He's useless."

I felt Namekuji's body expand and peel into two. The bigger half slipped out of my hold and plopped to the floor. It slithered around the couch and went to Mamoru-sensei, while the tiny part of himself he left with me climbed up my arm and sat on my shoulder.

"Consider yourself lucky that I'm letting any of me go with you," he said.

I smiled brightly at him.

Mamoru-sensei gave the scroll a final glance and stood. "The client's name is Haruto. Anything under that is a lost cause."

"How will you get out of the village without Hanzo knowing?" Osamu asked.

Yahiko grinned, "Just leave it to me."

反応

Water splashed over my ankles, covering my feet with black sand.

A few feet in front of us, a thin, rugged-looking man sat in a boat, bobbing gently in the water. He used two long pieces of wood called 'oars' to keep it steady.

I'd never seen a boat before.

Naga hadn't either, because he was staring at it too.

It was made of tightly packed planks of wood, but it didn't sink or rot. The sides were curved, two 'U' shapes that had been pushed together. I stepped closer, leaning over to look at the interior, and saw that the middle was made of wood too.

"Why doesn't it sink?" I asked Naga.

Naga ran his fingers along the side. "I don't know," he said, mystified.

The boatman held the oars so tightly his knuckles were white. He glanced nervously at the rocks and sand behind us.

Yahiko carefully climbed in the middle and sat, gripping the sides when it rocked.

Konan sat behind him.

Naga, with Konan giggling and holding his arms as he wobbled, got in behind her.

I planted a foot in the tiny space between Yahiko and the front and grabbed the side, clamoring in like a spider.

At the head of the boat, the boatman turned one of the oars and the whole boat moved, pointing away from the bank.

"Thanks for this, Noriko," Yahiko said, still holding the sides.

The boatman paused. "I never would've lived this long without the Akatsuki," he quietly admitted. "This barely chips that debt."

Yahiko didn't smile. He went tight and stiff as we went over a wave.

Konan leaned forward. "Don't tell me our fearless leader finally met his match?"

I leaned over the side and stretched a hand down, feeling the tickle of water as it crashed against my palm. The boat wobbled slightly, and I heard Yahiko's fingers digging into the wood.

"I'm not afraid of the boat," Yahiko said, voice spiking high at the end.

Konan shook her head. "We water-walk all the time—"

"It's not the same," Yahiko cut her off. "Water-walking never feels like this."

Konan snickered. "I'll beat the boat up for you when we get off," she promised.

I leaned back and Yahiko swore.

"Why are we taking a boat?"

"The same reason we're in civilian clothes," Konan answered. "If Hanzo knew we left, he might try and stop us. He might not care at all, but it's better not to take the chance. Even if someone alerts him to the boat, he'll just think we're another group of defectors."

I hummed. It made sense.

I stood and the boat tilted.

Yahiko squeezed his eyes shut. Even Naga looked pale.

"Careful," Konan warned. "Move slow. Sit back down."

I took the first half of her advice, but not the second. I climbed up onto the side, routing chakra to the bottom of my feet to make myself lighter and stick to the wood as I walked carefully to the bow.

Noriko stopped rowing when I stepped in front of him. "Listen to your friends and sit down," he said sternly. "This isn't a toy."

"But I want to see..." I trailed off. There was water in every direction I looked. It seemed like it would never end. Wind and rain lashed at my clothes, but I was rooted in place.

"You feel like ice," Namekuji complained at me, burrowing in the folds of my cloak.

The boat shook, tipping forward. It wasn't enough to move me, but I couldn't catch my flower crown before it hit the water. I watched it bob away, bumping against the mossy wreckage of a tower.

I wondered if I could catch back up with the boat if I went after it.

"You have to come down," Noriko insisted. "You're unbalancing the boat, and these waters are dangerous—"

"She's fine," Naga interrupted him. I watched him scoot to the very back of the boat, and that seemed to settle it, somewhat. He swallowed. "As long as you can see around her, she's fine."

I glanced back at Noriko, at the disapproval in his eyes, and I smiled.

Because it was funny that he thought falling off the boat was the worst thing that could happen to me.

ユリ

Noriko didn't have much faith in us.

I knew by the way he stared back at us. It was a few seconds too long, like he thought he wouldn't see us again. He reminded me of Mamoru-sensei asking Yahiko to prove himself; Osamu, treating us like little kids.

I didn't smile when he looked at me. I didn't wave.

He quickly turned away and lifted the oars, rowing away from us. I watched him until he was a shadowy figure in the distance.

The rain was lighter, a soft patter instead of a downpour, and there were more trees than I'd ever seen in the village. Some sprouted of out the water, wide, dark gray trunks that shot up into the sky, the leaves dangling down like fur. Others were planted haphazardly, away from the white sand and in the tall grass beyond.

When I looked up, I saw slivers of pink through the clouds. Not quite the sun, but closer than I'd ever been.

Yahiko was bent over on the sand, hands on his knees, coughing and wiping his mouth.

Konan patted his back, even as she teased him.

Naga was on the grass on his knees, bent over something.

I looked out at the water again, but I couldn't see Noriko anymore.

The grass was wet and squishy, and my feet sunk down with every step. I stopped beside Naga. He'd uprooted a patch of grass and dug a small hole in the mud underneath.

A white flower with curled, droopy petals sat on the grass next to him. It had a long stem, the roots light brown and spindly.

"Whatcha' doin'?" I asked.

Naga stopped. Mud was under his nails. "I thought this would be a good place for it," he said sheepishly. "I picked it before we left for Etsudo's son. I know she wouldn't want anything to do with it right now, but I wanted to remember him in some way."

"Why?" I skirted around the hole, standing opposite of him. "We never did anything for anyone else who died."

Naga scooped another handful of mud out. "Maybe we should."

Maybe we...?

"It's... not for them anyway," he admitted. "It's so the people that were left behind have a place to come and remember them. Or cry." He carefully picked up the flower and gently placed it in the hole, angling the roots down.

"If I did this right, it'll grow and make more lilies. So he'll live on in some way. I wish I could do this for everyone that died in the war, but there aren't enough lilies in the village for that." He patted mud down on top of the roots and I wondered...

Could a flower really mean that much?

I clenched my fists. "I wish we planted flowers for Chibi," I said, sudden and quiet.

I looked at the flower, so white and full of life, and I wondered what Chibi would be like now if he was still alive.

It had been... a long time since I thought about him like this.

Naga faltered, looking up. "We still can," he told me. "When we get back, you can help me find some. We'll plant them around the hideout."

My eyes widened.

Naga smiled and I felt a strange, wet sensation down my cheek.

I was... crying?

Surprised, I slapped the tear away, rubbing a hand hard against my eyes.

When was the last time I cried?

"You made me sad," I accused. His smile was softer when I looked at him again.

"A good sad," Naga explained. "It's okay to feel sad about the people who are gone sometimes."

I shivered. Then I got down on my hands and knees and helped him fill the hole.

If my eyes were red, he didn't say.

A/N: 意図 - Intent, アクション - Action, 反応 - Reaction, ユリ - Lily

Specifically, Nagato planted a Swamp Lily.

*melonpan - sweet bun covered in a thin layer of crisp cookie dough.

Yahiko - 14-15

Nagato/Konan - 13-14

Oka - 10-11

Kota - 9-10