"Don't you dare

Look outside your window darling,

Everything's on fire,

The war outside our door,

Keeps raging on,"

Safe and Sound, Taylor Swift

"They won't respond if you address them like shinobi," Joji signed. He stood on the bank, just out of reach of the waves, half-facing us.

Enyo crouched in the water at his back, trying to sneak up on him. He held his breath and only splashed a little as he waded closer.

"Then how should I do it?" Naga asked, sitting higher up on the sand, Namekuji curled around his shoulders.

Maho was on his back in the shallows behind Joji, panting and soaked. He didn't move even as a wave washed over him.

Joji didn't immediately answer, expressionless. He disagreed with what we were doing, I knew, and he wanted nothing to do with the Land of Iron.

Yahiko watched Enyo thoughtfully, next to Naga, his sleeves rolled up.

Joji closed his eyes, "Address your message to Emperor Ohta, and only him. Jinsoku Hyousuke will read it, but that won't affect the decision made—"

Enyo grappled him from behind, feet pushing and sliding against the sand as he tried to move him, but Joji didn't budge, even as Enyo started punching his side.

"—State who you are and what you intend with no room to misinterpret. The fastest way to offend is to speak as if you are above the heavenly sovereign, but you are still a Kage. Don't speak below yourself."

Hidan tsk'ed, gaze shifting down. He only understood a few words in our code. He stretched his scythe's cable and released it experimentally.

"He's telling Naga how to talk to the leader of the Land of Iron," I translated.

Hidan paused. He looked at me, picked up his scythe as he stood, and walked in the opposite direction.

"Jinsoku Hyousuke?" Naga repeated.

Joji stepped fast to the side and Enyo tumbled and would've fell if Joji didn't snag the back of his collar. "Hyousuke the Swift, it means to us," he signed with one hand. "General. Military leader. Shogun to them."

Enyo twisted his head as much as he could, trying to bite his fingers, and Joji shoved him into the sand. He gazed over at Maho as Enyo whined and Maho groaned.

"Everything aches—" another wave rolled over him and he coughed but still didn't move.

"Why shouldn't I make it out to him, too?" Naga asked.

Enyo sat up and blew sand out of his nose.

"Doing so would only cause tension, as it says that you see the Shogun as the same as Emperor Ohta, who is supposed to be the absolute ruler of the land," Joji answered.

"Supposed to be?" he murmured.

Yahiko leaned back on his elbows. "Be honest with us here, sensei. How likely is it that Emperor Ohta will listen to him?"

Joji didn't answer him. He raised his hands at Maho. "You can spar, instead."

Maho shuddered. "Anything but that," he said and dragged himself up.

I waved as he trudged back into the water.

"It's like reliving my most traumatic memories," Yahiko said idly.

Joji turned to him. "A charismatic man is capable of anything if he tries," he finally answered.

Yahiko laid back on the sand and laced his hands behind his head "Nagato? Charismatic? We're doomed."

Naga wordlessly lifted Namekuji off his shoulders, didn't respond to his complaining, and dropped him on Yahiko's stomach.

I watched Yahiko's body jerk as he wheezed.

"Are you heavier than I remember, Namekuji?" he managed.

Namekuji only looked at him. "I could ask you the same, carrot-hair."

Yahiko closed his eyes, "Yep, that one hurt."

Enyo wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "When we goin' to fish, sensei?"

Joji ignored him. "Samurai are the highest class in Iron, ruled over by the Shogun," he explained, and Naga stopped to watch him. "They ensure the safety of roads, villages, and guard Emperor Ohta's palace. As the Shogun is the ruler of the samurai, he manages many of the regional laws the samurai enforce, and all of the country follow them."

"The balance of power is in his favor, but it's Emperor Ohta who decides who becomes Shogun, and could take that position away if provoked," Joji continued. "The Shogun is no fool and will not risk his place for shinobi."

Naga looked absently at his lap, lost in thought.

"Sounds a lot more complicated than Kage and Daimyo," Yahiko spoke. He couldn't see that well past Namekuji but didn't tell him to move.

Enyo huffed at Joji and looked away.

"Only the relationship between poor countries with poorer Daimyo can be called simple. You can afford to provoke. Bigger villages don't have that luxury," Joji signed in response. "Daimyo can, and will, choose to stop funding a village that pushes, or poach their merchants, craftsman, and redistribute them among smaller towns. It's Daimyo who receive mission requests from around the country and pass them to Kage. If pushed too far, Daimyo will turn to other Daimyo in allied nations and pressure their villages and towns to stop recognizing a disobedient Kage's power. There is a reason Kage obey Daimyo."

I watched Maho float on his back, gently paddling his hands to keep himself in place.

"Once, there was such a village that overstepped. Hoshigakure. There are few surviving books with records of them," Joji continued.

"When can we go fishing?" Enyo ground out. "Matsu doesen—does 'nt want to depend on you and your hideout, but I wanna—want to learn."

"Sun. Set," Joji signed at him, slowly.

Enyo frowned. "But I'm hungry now."

"What did they do, sensei?" Yahiko asked, half-sitting up, Namekuji laying across his legs.

"Hoshigakure formed themselves around a meteor that fell from beyond our world before the time of Madara Uchiha," Joji answered, turning back to him. He didn't seem to notice when Enyo punched his leg. "They studied it with the intent to make tools out of the material, but had to find another, faster, use for it with the arrival of the first world war. They found they could draw power from it and into themselves, letting them cheat the rules of chakra by manipulating their physical energy into ninjutsu without focusing signs."

"They were recognized as a powerful people and near equal to the nations with appointed Kage," he continued, then paused. "The scholars in Iron preserve the history of outsiders to observe and predict their movements, but they have a differing account of Hoshigakure. Shinobi texts say the power they drew from the meteor simultaneously poisoned them, and even when ordered to stop, the Uddokage had his people continue using it in his arrogance. The Daimyo of the Land of Bears took this as a sign of an inevitable coup and petitioned other Kage for sanctions—"

I leaned back on my elbows and looked up, trying to image what a meteor looked like. Something that fell from the sky. Something that came from a place past the clouds but wasn't a star.

"—other accounts say the power they drew out poisoned the earth, and eventually, the lakes and rivers around them," Joji was signing when I looked down. "The Uddokage was not warned by his Daimyo, but by Daimyo whose villages used the water that bordered the land. The Uddokage attempted to negotiate against all restrictions and was stripped of his title. The Daimyo then altered maps to dismiss Hoshikage to be a town of no importance or erased them entirely. No one seeks them out and risks being harmed by the unknown effects of the meteor, and the Third Uddokage was put in place to keep them isolated."

"Too little was known to risk destroying the meteor—" Joji stopped, shaking his head. "But that was many years ago. War caused bigger villages than them to fall."

It was always about power.

Being powerful, controlling power, using power to manipulate others.

Yahiko said nothing, but looked deep in thought.

"What's a meteor?" I asked, because it was kind compared to what Iwagakure did to Kusagakure or what Konohagakure did to us.

On a scale of cruelty, it was even polite.

I looked at Naga, but he only lifted his shoulders. I glanced at Joji again.

"A very big rock from space," he signed.

I looked at the sky again, but I couldn't see it, couldn't imagine how it would fall all the way to the ground and still be big.

"Even if this works, you know we don't have the shinobi for a transport mission, right?" Yahiko tiredly asked Naga.

"What about Shinnai? Or Kanae?" I asked.

"Nagato sent them to Suisai to help out," Yahiko answered. "They won't be back for months."

He told me he'd send someone, and he did, would've, even if Ren said no.

"They did a lot for us. They deserve the break," Naga defended.

"I didn't say anything. Not about this being step eleven of your master plan or—"

Naga cut him off, "I don't remember you asking me when you sent Chizue, Fuji, Haya, or Tora to Kusagakure."

Yahiko tilted his head toward him. "I think I deserve a little leeway after my equal very suddenly decided to be my better."

"Do I know them?" I asked.

Yahiko waved the question away. "You met them when I showed Nagato his birthday present."

I hummed.

Enyo was watching us, absently massaging his wrist. Joji had moved onto the water, watching Maho swim in slow circles, his head barely above the surface.

I sat up, looking at Enyo, and I thought about the twine around my wrist.

It was bleached by the sun, rotted by old rain, and it was only my stubbornness that kept it in place.

Enyo stilled as I stood and maneuvered down a slope of sand towards him. His expression didn't change, but I watched him roll his pant leg up, saw the casual way he slid a knife out from the black band holding it against his skin.

I earned that, I thought, and smiled.

If it were my brother that had been threatened, I'd never, ever forgive me either.

He turned the knife back and forth, pretending to inspect it until I crouched in front of him, and then I felt the cold, sharp side of it against my neck.

I was the Wolf of Rain, but I wasn't the only one with sharp teeth.

There had to be one adult who cheered for us now but wouldn't open their door to my brother when he was little. Shinobi who don't want to believe their daughters or sons are viler and crueler than they are.

There was someone here who had less morals than me. Had to be.

Enyo and I grew up loved by someone after all. Not everyone had that.

So when I felt the edge of his knife dig into my skin, I didn't move. It wasn't sharpened as much as it could've been, done against a rock or metal by an inexperienced hand.

"Why shouldn't I?" Enyo hissed.

And I laughed quietly, near soundless, because I knew rage, too. He stared at me but didn't get up and leave like Hanako or turn it into a joke like Yahiko.

Enyo didn't bare his teeth either, but he leaned forward and smiled, small and cruel, and it was close enough. "You said sorry, but I don't forgive—"

I slowly raised my hand, showing him the twine around my wrist, and he faltered. "I don't want to throw it away," I said "But I wouldn't fix it right either, and I don't know anyone else."

His eyes went wide. I untied it, but it was tangled and took a few seconds. It was long enough for me to see the way his eyes stuck to my hands and how hard his fingers shook.

I felt him nick my skin, but I didn't look.

"Don't do that 'nymore," he muttered, looking away.

I paused. "Why?"

"It's stupid," he said, quieter. He lowered the knife. "Won't help in a fight."

It was useless.

"But you're not always in a fight," I responded. And no one ever sent him to war for it.

I watched Enyo grit his teeth, watched his fingers curl in the sand.

"I gotta be strong so nothin' happens to Ma—"

"You can be strong and still do other things when you're not fighting," I interrupted. I cupped the twine between my hands. "I like to look at the sun, and at night I look at the stars. Does that mean I'm not strong?"

Enyo's shoulders hunched. "Not the same," he said, too loud.

Naga and Yahiko went quiet behind me.

"You're right," I mused. "You make stuff. I don't do anything at all."

And he stared at me.

I moved the twine to one hand and slipped the other in my pouch. He sucked in when I showed him the shiny black rock he gave me.

"Remember when I promised they would all die?" I asked. He didn't stop me when I took his hand, turned his palm up, and placed the rock and the twine in it. "We did it, and I still watched the sun then too."

Enyo stared down at his palm. He held his breath and bit down hard on his lip, fingers slowly closing around them.

"The rock is yours, but I want the necklace back," I said.

His eyes looked watery. He gasped raggedly, pressing his knuckles to his forehead, twine sticking out between his fingers.

I didn't move, didn't comfort him as he cried, but it still stung.

鉄

Lying back in the sand, I blew hair out of my face, watching the sky through wild black strands.

It was almost clear of clouds. The full moon in the middle looked bigger, closer.

Naga called it a super moon.

Next to me, Maho raised an arm to ward off Kuu as he scampered up his body and looped around his neck. I heard his laugh.

I picked up a long, inky strand, slathered in sand, and held it up in the moonlight.

It was recently cut, but still too long. Looking at it made me think of Konan's voice behind me, of why I never tried to learn to put it in a braid. Something else I didn't want to be a reminder.

Maho ducked his head as Kuu pressed his nose to the back of his hair, sniffing, memorizing his scent. Maho dropped his hands helplessly to his lap, but he grinned.

"I didn't know ferrets could be summons," he said.

The strand slipped out of my grip and tickled my nose. I tilted my head.

"They lived wild around my ex-village," he continued. Kuu looked up over the back of his head at the sea and chittered at him. "But not this small. It was a game to see who could scale down the cliffside the fastest, and whoever made it first saw the ferrets before they were scared off. They wouldn't come out of their holes around us, even when we brought snacks."

His grin faded, like he bit into something expecting it to be sweet, but it was sour. "A challenge," he corrected. "Everything was always a challenge there."

"You and the rest of the corps?" I asked.

Maho raised a hand for Kuu to climb on. "It was made up of kids around my age," he said absently.

Kuu nipped lightly at his hand, admonishing, and instead hopped down to his lap and rolled over.

"We were all separated from our parents, but they thought if we stayed isolated we'd just turn out like the ninja in Kirigakure," he went on, patting Kuu's belly. "The matron made everything into a competition, but that only inspires loyalty in the winners."

I looked back at the stars. I thought of what he told me once about how rare explosion style was. "They sent you to war because they didn't want to lose anyone else, didn't they?"

Maho pulled a leg up, a barrier between him and my question. He didn't answer.

"That's okay," I added. I stared at the darker spots on the moon and wondered if it could fall. Would that make it a 'meteor' instead of a 'moon'?

He paused, lifting his head. "That's it?" he asked, surprised. "That's okay?"

"Should it not be?" I asked. "Hanzo saw us as expendable, too."

He thought the only use we had was to be examples, after all.

Maho looked back at Kuu and crossed his legs. He scratched under Kuu's chin. "The Tsuchikage would've taken a personal interest in you," he said.

I glanced at him.

"It's not an insult," he quickly added. "It's a compliment in my ex-village. A bad one, here. It means I see strength in you, and not just physically."

I hummed.

Kuu's tail went still. He slipped suddenly around Maho's hand and scampered up his arm, ignoring the way he half-drew back in surprise. Kuu stood on his shoulder and sniffed at something behind him.

I tilted my head back and saw Yahiko, upside-down. He stopped, the sand undisturbed under his sandals, and lifted an arm up to his nose, sniffing himself.

"I took a bath today," he told Kuu. He wasn't wearing his cloak.

Maho ducked again as Kuu leapt off him and ran across the sand.

Yahiko shook his head as Kuu scaled up his body. "This was supposed to be a surprise," he said, accusatory, but offered his arm for Kuu to climb on.

"A surprise for what?" I asked, sitting up.

Yahiko reached into his pouch and pulled out a scroll with his other hand. "I was supposed to unseal this before you saw me, but you didn't think I forgot your birthday, did you?"

My...?

Maho's eyes widened at me. "It's your birthday?"

Yahiko squinted at the sky. "Might be. Depends on the time," he said, then waved this away. "I'm going to say it is and as one-half of a Kage, my decision is final."

He tossed me the scroll and I unrolled it on the sand. It had a storage seal in the middle.

"Happy birthday," Maho said, a little lamely.

I pushed chakra into the seal and a messily folded shirt appeared on top of it. All black, with a pattern of red clouds. Holding it up, I saw that it wasn't a shirt, but a cloak. One with a high collar and lined red on the inside.

How long ago did I stop wearing my cloak?

Yahiko was grinning when I looked up at him.

"Everyone has one," he said, lacing his hands behind his head. "Well, not the villagers, or Hidan, because each one takes a lot of time..."

Maho stared at him. "Everyone?" he repeated.

"Yours is back at the hideout," he answered, and his grin widened. "But the birthday girl gets hers first."

I buried my face in the cloak. It was soft. "Thank you," I said, muffled.

"I was lucky to find Yuka still alive. I had the idea for a while, but there were other things that had to be taken care of first," he said.

He was looking at the moon when I glanced at him, Kuu laying around his neck.

"I felt like I owed everyone something for sticking by me. I didn't have to, I know, but I wanted to," he said, quieter. "Yuka didn't want payment, no matter how much I tried to insist. All I had to do was hand over old clothes to be reused for thread."

I traced a finger over a cloud on the front. "Why clouds?"

"That was Nagato's idea," he answered. "I came up with the design, but it was all black. He suggested clouds so that we'd be reminded of this place, no matter how far away we go. And it isn't as obvious as rain drops."

Maho stared at the sand. "I never said, but I felt excluded before Shido." he admitted. "I was part of the Akatsuki, but I didn't have a cloak. I didn't deserve one and it was stupid, but I couldn't help how I felt. That might be why I feel so surprised now."

Yahiko shook his head. "I wouldn't have blamed you if you ran away back then, but you didn't. I'll always be grateful for that, no matter how many times the local wolf tells me I shouldn't be."

I buried my face in the cloak again. "What happened to your old cloak?"

"Burned it," Yahiko said lightly. "After I heard about Suisai and experienced the joint-effort to retraumatize me, I realized that I was holding onto some things, too."

"How did you know it would be the right size?"

"I was pretty accurate with the last one, wasn't I?" he asked. "It's a little big, but I'll just have it adjusted if you don't grow into it."

I squeezed the cloak. "No, you won't."

He laughed.

.

.

.

I found Naga alone in the main shelter room, facing the wall, one hand holding down a corner of a slip of paper while he wrote on it with a brush.

It was to Emperor Ohta.

A cracked ink bottle next to his knee was almost empty, and there were ripped and crumpled balls of paper around him.

He paused. "Happy birthday, Oka."

"Where's Mamoru-sensei, Joji, or Namekuji?" I asked, wearing my birthday present. The sleeves were too big, like Yahiko said.

Naga sat back with a sigh and put the brush down in the inkpot. "Mamoru-sensei took Namekuji with him. He didn't say where was going, but I lost track him northwest of the village."

He left to visit Etsudo, I mused.

"Joji-sensei is watching over Matsu and Enyo. Around that apartment building where you met them," he continued.

Yahiko would've laughed and said he was going soft.

"Hidan?" I asked.

Naga shook his head. "He wouldn't have told me even if I asked. I made the mistake of asking him to train away from a group of civilians once, and now he stays out of my range."

I shifted closer. "Where's your cloak?"

He pulled a scroll out from his pouch and put it down. "I don't have anything to give you like that," he murmured. "Or anything at all."

I sat next to him. "I don't want anything. I didn't even know it was today."

"Still," he said.

I rolled the sleeves up. "I didn't give you anything for your birthday."

He rolled the scroll back and forth. "Still."

I looked at him, shook my head, and leaned back against his arm. "Tell me a story, Naga."

Naga looked at me.

"That's what I want."

He was quiet for a few seconds. "A long time ago there was a monk who lived alone," he began. "He lived in a little house at the edge of the sea, but it was before the moon or stars existed, so there were no waves."

"The moon and the stars make the waves?" I asked.

"The moon does. It has to do with tidal forces, but this isn't a science story," he said, and I smiled. "The monk only knew the light of the sun during the day, and a night so dark it swallowed everything bright. It was when the wild animals would come out and hunt. People back then knew better than to be out at night, but sometimes someone would be out too long and couldn't find their way back once the sun was gone. Their families would only find their bones or clothes when the sun came up."

"The monk heard the cries of families of lost loved ones, but never went out to see what happened. But people were killed often enough that he became worn down by their grief and saw no point in living if it would keep going," Naga continued. "He took all the wooden furniture in his house and carved them down to curves. He wanted to make a big ball of light so no one would get lost ever again, and he fit the furniture pieces together until he had a ball, but it didn't shine. The monk went out each night and threw his wooden ball into the sky, but it would only fall down and break into pieces."

"But he didn't stop. He kept fixing the ball and throwing it at the sky every day, until one night it didn't come back down. He was rewarded for his persistence by the god who made the world and it became the moon. Then he went back inside, and he never heard the cries of grief ever again," he finished.

I closed my eyes. "Did they ever thank him?"

Naga went still, then he made a sound that was half-sigh, half-laugh. "No, I guess they didn't."

.

.

.

Hidan strolled into the room later, his left arm severed at the elbow.

His detached limb was tucked under his right arm and slowly dripped blood down his side. His eyes slide to my brother, "Do me a solid and put this back on, will you?"

I sat up as Naga scrambled to his feet. "What happened?"

Yahiko blinked once at his blood-soaked sleeve, sitting opposite of me. "You know, I know I said I believed you were immortal, but it feels a lot more real seeing it in action."

Hidan didn't acknowledge him. "Some dumbass that wouldn't know a trap if it hit her in the face," he answered.

And Naga paused, steps away from him, wondering who he killed. But a civilian wasn't strong enough to do that to him.

What if it wasn't an ex-shinobi or Root? What if it was someone on our side?

"Your fingers are blue," Maho said, in a state of shock, half-sitting up from the corner he'd been sleeping in.

If Hidan noticed Naga's hesitation, he didn't let it show. He ignored Maho, too. "That heathen might've cut off my arm, but damn if it didn't bite her in the ass. If only she listened when I tried to explain the ritual."

Maho laid back down and tugged his cloak up over his head.

Naga sighed, but tied his hair back as he moved closer to look at the wound.

He said he wanted to kill everyone, but if he had, why would he come back?

A/N: 鉄 - Iron

Oka - 14

fun fact: I thought Oka was turning 15, then looked at my own timeline and went 'oh'

'Show, don't tell' is bad writing advice. The limits of words on a page means there are some things you can't show and as a former impressionable kid being told that in every English/writing class messed me up. If you find it hard to imagine what the group Oka fought in 'A Man Named Kamabara' looked like, that's why. Excessive telling is bad, sure, but not telling at all is just as bad.

How do you show the height of a character with a personality like Joji? Can't see him reaching for shelves or being looked down at.

Did you know Maho has freckles?

Joji's got Ackerman eyes. If you know, you know.