Dear readers, the political conflicts in the following chapters are largely related to the geography of the Naruto world. Before reading on, I HIGHLY HIGHLY RECCOMEND you quickly look at a map to see the relative layout of the following nations: Wind, River, Rain, Grass and Fire. It will make the following arc much easier to understand. XOXO - VB

- Cinderella -

Sakura dips a rag into the standing wash basin, scrubbing at the sand that has somehow caked her skin. She's only been in Sunagakure for four hours, but the damn stuff is already everywhere. It doesn't seem to matter that their desert crossing had taken place mid air rather than on foot. There is grime between her fingers and clinging behind her ear lobes, and she feels like she'll never be clean again.

But the water in the wash basin is refreshingly cool and studded with fragrant citrus blossoms. There's something else to it that makes her skin feel soft. She wonders if she'll be able to take some dried flowers home with her on the way back to Konoha.

Across the room, Kiwa is rummaging through her pack, carelessly dumping her travel gear out onto the foot of her king size bed. Her own kingsize bed.

Apparently there were perks to knowing the Kazekage that Sakura had not anticipated.

The hotel suite the two girls were sharing was a major upgrade from the affordable inn they'd initially booked on the edge of town. The Embassy Royal was a sprawling complex right within the city center. It was clearly the sort of place that catered to foreign dignitaries and upscale traveling merchants.

Sakura takes in the room around her with ongoing awe. Against the backdrop of sumptuous finishes, her travel clothes and utilitarian knapsack look embarrassingly out of place.

Wall to wall cerulean blue floor tiles cool her bare feet. All along the exterior wall, three sets of tall glass doors let in dapples of Suna sunshine. Floor length curtains of billowy mosquito netting waft out onto the covered balcony, swaying in the breeze like sheets on a clothes line. Even with the balcony doors open, it doesn't feel like summer in their room. The thick stone walls are spackled with plaster, acting as a natural heat-sink.

"I could definitely get use to this." Kiwa says, taking another turn around the suite. She picks up a stained glass flower vase, turning it over in her hands. She eyes the thing like she's trying to guess its value, or determine if it's worth stealing.

"How much do you think we could get for this crap?" She jokes.

"You mean besides the jail time?" Sakura smiles playfully. She gives the washrag another pass down her bare arms.

Kiwa smiles sheepishly and puts the vase back down. "Sorry, I've just never stayed in a place like this. I'm use to slumming it in my mud shelters. Otherwise, I'm rooming with Ruya and Utsuho. Do you know what a pain it is to bunk with them? If my gear is even a little bit messy Utsuho won't shut up about it. And Ruya, God. I've never seen a man with so many skincare products."

Kiwa has proven to be unendingly chatty, but Sakura doesn't mind the company.

She remembers how surprised she'd been her first night traveling with Team Utsuho. Of all the things she could have anticipated, Ruya sitting on his sleeping bag working some unknown serum into his skin was not one of them. He'd even offered her a sheet masks from his personal stash.

With his pile of long dark hair, the convoy-nin almost reminded her of Neji Hyuga…If Neji knew how to smile, that is.

"Well, enjoy the luxury while we have it. I have a feeling this is a one time thing." She says.

"So…The Kazekage." Kiwa says, her voice heavy with implication. "What's really going on there? It's not every day I get shuttled across the desert via private air courier." She waggles her eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

"It's not like that at all-" Sakura rushes to say, "Back before he was running an entire village, we were just two people with a mutual friend in common." Sakura smiles, thinking of Naruto. "Then, when Gaara was attacked by the Akatsuki, I was part of his rescue mission. That's all."

Kiwa looks at her, shaking her head. "No way, I don't buy it. Sabaku no Gaara has a reputation. A man like that doesn't personally fly you in and set you up in digs like this just because you were part of a rescue team."

"I…might have also saved his life. And his brother's too, on a separate occasion."

Kiwa gives her an unblinking stare. Then all at once, she flips from mannequin to motion. "Dude. Are you kidding me? Why didn't you say something sooner!" She doesn't wait for Sakura to reply. All at once, she's up on her feet and slipping her sandals back on.

"What? What's happening?" Sakura asks.

"The Kazekage owes you his freaking life. Don't you know what that means?"

"I-"

"It means we're going down to the bar and charging everything to the room. Shit, I'm not paying for anything while I'm here-"

Before Sakura can talk her new friend down, a loud knock rattles their door.

"That must be the boys!" Kiwa says, rushing over to answer it. "Ruya, you're not going to believe our luck-"

But when she swings the door open, Ruya isn't standing there. Instead, a young man in formal red livery gives them a deep bow. "Summons for Haruno Sakura." He says, looking back and forth between them in question.

"Not me." Kiwa says, pointing to Sakura at the back of the suite.

The two girls exchange curious glances. "I'm Haruno Sakura. What is this about?"

"Greetings miss. I was instructed to deliver this to you directly." With another bow, the messenger presents her with a formal red scroll tied together with a golden tassel. "Once you've finished getting ready, I'm here to take you upstairs."

Sakura's skin prickles with sudden understanding.

She recognizes the scrolls exterior from the dozens of others she's received over the previous year. Even though she knows who it's from, it's still a shock to see the official crest of the Fire Daimyo staring up at her from this note. The handwriting is unmistakeable...

"What…was that you said about going upstairs?" She asks, trying to read the scroll while processing everything.

"What's going on?" Kiwa asks over her shoulder. She eyeballs the expensive looking scroll like she's contemplating stealing it too.

"I'm not completely sure," Sakura says, looking up to the messenger for conformation. His silk robes are richly dyed, and of extremely high quality. She's losing hope that this is all some elaborate prank. "…but I think I've just been summoned for an audience with the Daimyo."

This could mean nothing good.

- Hitoshi -

When Sakura arrives upstairs, the Daimyo's quarters are in utter chaos. Servants speed from room to room, unpacking trunks and various personal belongings. If she'd thought her suite a beacon of luxury, it was nothing compared to the sprawling penthouse reserved for the Fire Daimyo and his entourage.

The messenger hadn't just taken her up, he'd taken her all the way up to the top floor. Beyond the foyer where she waits, a series of interconnected rooms meander on like a twisting labyrinth. This wasn't a hotel room, it was practically an estate! Good lord, was that a swimming pool?

"I thought the summit was only a few days long?" Sakura asks, in awe at the quantity of the furniture being unloaded. Had the penthouse not already been furnished? How does anyone travel with so much stuff?

Two servants bump against her in succession, rushing through the narrow hallway.

"You're correct miss. We are only here until next Wednesday." The messenger answers with a smile.

With a gesture, he leads her through the mayhem towards a set of back rooms. "That's why we're operating with a skeleton crew. The majority of his Lords entourage is still back in Fire country."

Sakura trips over a woman unfurling an ornate rug across the living room floor.

"There you are!" A new voice calls, rushing up to Sakura. A man appears magically at her side, dressed like some sort of royal advisor. She's never seen this person in her life, but he seems to recognize her. "You're late! Follow me this way. There's only so much time to get you ready, and we still need to debrief you before dinner."

The messenger leaves her with a formal bow, and Sakura is taken by the elbow. This new stranger leads her through a series of twists and turns, and she can't remember which direction she came from. The river of servants part like water around them. It's as if he possesses some kind of magic barrier that keeps them both from being squashed.

At last, she's dragged into a sitting room that has been converted into a makeshift closet. Luscious fabrics are draped over ever surface. Even the upholstered chairs act as a display for shoes and accessories. Everything her eyes touch is a masterwork of stitchery. She's never seen such beautiful robes in her life…

What in the hell was going on here?

As soon as they enter the makeshift dressing room, the advisory is joined by two female assistants. Together they begin draping various colors of silk across Sakura's arms, discussing which pattern suits her best. "I- What is going on? What dinner are you talking about?" She asks, drowning in a sea of fabric.

"The Daimyo dinner tonight, of course," He says. "Didn't you read the scroll?"

"I think there's been some mistake." Sakura insists, arms trembling under her growing cloth burden. "I was told to present myself to the Daimyo. I'm the doctor whose bill he is sponsoring tomorrow, not one of his dining companions."

The shadow of grey dusting this man's temples tells Sakura he's midway through his forties at least. Despite his obvious middle age, he moves with the agility of an athlete. His gestures are decisive and energetic, and he gives Sakura a mischievous smile.

"I know exactly who you are, Miss Haruno. How could I not, after our years of correspondence." His familiar tone sets off warning bells in her body. That's when she really looks at the man. "You're exactly as I pictured you." He says.

He gives her a knowing look, and the gears in her head start spinning. "No." She says in incredulity. Her voice is suddenly high pitched and thin, like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room.

"I hope you'll forgive my casual appearance." He says, holding up a swath of pumpkin gold fabric. The silk glows with a rusty red sheen. "But I wanted to wait until you were here before I dressed for dinner. I need to make sure our robes properly match."

"No. No way." She gasps again. "You're-"

Because this, she realizes, feeling like a total idiot, is the Fire Daimyo.

"Not what you were expecting?" He asks with a knowing smile. "Not enough gray hairs or liver spots?"

Sakura's manners hit her like an asteroid.

She drops into a clumsy formal bow, spilling half of the clothes onto the floor between them. "My Lord." She chokes, trying to process everything around her. Tiny details click into place as she takes in his appearance again.

His robes are of a casual cut, but made of the highest quality fabric. His ceremonial hair-stick is likewise simple, but there's no mistaking the rare ash wood and real gold inlayed down the side. His status is visible in the way the servants moved about him, always near at hand but careful not to touch him accidentally. She thinks of the way the servants parted, repelled by his apparent magic.

"It's good to finally meet you." He says warmly, smiling at the recognition on her face. She doesn't remember her own name, much less how to speak properly. She wonders if he pulls this trick on everyone.

He takes the pile of fabric from her arms, handing them off to a female servant dressed in saffron robes. "Let me see the red one." He tells her in passing, before turning back to face Sakura again.

"It seems you've caught me on the back foot, My Lord." She says. Her words have become stiff with formality.

"You can drop with all of that My Lord business, at least while here in my quarters. Please, call me Hitoshi and I will call you Sakura."

She remembers his name as an afterthought, spelled out in elegant kanji at the bottom of their letters.

"I'm sorry if I seem taken aback." She says. "I wasn't expecting you to be so…"

"Young?" He asks. She nods her head side to side in a 'Yeah, maybe' gesture.

"It's ok. I've heard that a lot since inheriting my title." He gestures to an upholstered chair in the corner. In a flash, the chair is cleared of the various brick-a-brack, and he takes a regal seat into it. His body is relaxed, yet he somehow still appears dangerous. His whole air reminds her absently of Kakashi…

The twinge in her heart at her absent Sensei lasts only a moment before she'd distracted again.

"Before I became what I am now," Hitoshi begins, "I was a civil servant practicing law. I was very good at what I did. I had a wife I loved, a profession I enjoyed… and then two years ago, a sickness spread through my village that robbed me of the love of my life. That same sickness would ravage my fathers compound soon after, killing off his entire family."

At Sakura's look of confusion, he elaborated. "I was born to one of the late Daimyo's mistresses, you see. I was not acknowledged as a blood relation until just before my father died. If I have a different way of approaching things, it's because I never believed I would ever be in line for the title. For any title, really."

She wonders at how Hitoshi's rise to power hasn't become common knowledge yet. Had his advisors kept the truth of his lineage a secret? Or was her ignorance the result of her being married to the hospital and barely having a social life?

"Im…sorry for your loss." Sakura says gently, giving him her full attention.

"Thank you for that. I like to think I've taken up my fathers mantel admirably, but I will never forget the cost that was paid so that I might do so. I even lost a little brother to the sickness that took him. We'd never met, but I still regret not knowing him."

Hitoshi pauses here. She expects the scars of his loss to show in his eyes, but when he looks at her, he is determination and calm. "But. That's why I've been so involved in this project of yours, Sakura. Before I was squirreled away behind luxurious palace walls, I saw many of the problems your satellite clinics aim to address."

Realization dawns on her. "That's why you wrote Tsunade back…I can't tell you how shocked she was to actually get that first reply from you. She only passed my bill proposal along in hopes of placating me. Never did we dream you would actually consider a project of this scale."

Here, he stands from his seat and approaches her once more. Out in the hall, servants pass by with trays of dishes rattling together like music bells.

"Believe it or not, your proposal was the third scroll I picked up on my very first day in office. It was exactly the sort of thing my father would have rejected outright, from what I knew of him. It was also exactly the project I think I needed to help heal, after my wife passed away."

Sakura was overwhelmed, to say the least. His ready openness has surprised her, but it still left so many questions unanswered.

"I'm honored that you would share your story with me, Hitoshi. But…I'm still not sure what I'm doing here."

Sakura gestures around at the opulent luxury, to the swaths of silk that cost more than her annual paycheck.

"I figured you would have guessed by now." He says, picking two sets of robes from the infinite pile behind him. One is a deep ruby red color that matches the Fire Daimyo crest. The second is a muted blue and white affair that reminds her of clouds, or frothing water. "Tonight is the formal welcome dinner. It will be attended by all five Daimyo, their guests of honor, and the Kazekage if I'm not mistaken. If we are to be successful tomorrow, I need you to attend tonight."

Sakura goes pale with anxiety. She almost drops the robes in her arms. "You've got to be joking."

Sakura was not an introvert by nature. She loved being around people, and seeing new places. But there was a big difference between attending a birthday party with friends she'd known since she was a child and being introduced to the five most powerful people on the continent.

Hitoshi takes in her apparent anxiety. He's use to people being afraid of his title. "I learned one thing from practicing law- "know your opponent." Control information, and you control the battlefield. I want you to know what to expect tomorrow. This is my way or preparing you. Though…in truth, there's only one player who holds my concern."

Sakura knows immediately who he mean.

The River General.

"But, I'm just a Doctor. I don't know anything about politics. My teammate Shikamaru has come with me to Suna. He should be the one to attend this dinner, not me."

"Thats funny, because you attending this dinner was actually your teammates idea."

Hitoshi's words hit her like a bomb. This whole thing was Shikamaru's idea?

She's so preoccupied trying to wrap her head around the thought, she doesn't resist when two female attendants lead her behind a privacy screen, helping her to undress. One tucks her stunned limbs into the sleeves of the Ruby kimono while the other starts pinning her hair up into place. The red fabric itches dreadfully against the side of her neck, and she feels like she's being trussed up like a pig for slaughter.

When she finally comes out from behind the privacy screen, her tongue unsticks itself from the roof of her mouth. "I still don't think this is a good idea," She says.

The Fire Daimyo looks her up and down. He doesn't seem to like what he sees.

"You're absolutely right." He says.

For a second, relief douses her like a cool shower.

"This is not your color at all." He makes a gesture, and once more Sakura is thrust behind the privacy screen. This time, the attendants fold her into the pale blue robes, manipulating her limbs like she's a complicated piece of origami.

They keep the red Obi from the last ensemble, wrapping it around her waist. The second the pale blue fabric touches her skin, something in her posture changes. It's like a magic spell has been cast over her body, every nerve sings against soft drape of silk.

She's never touched such luxurious fabric in her life.

When she comes out a second time, even she can tell something is different. The cut of the robes conform comfortably to her shape. The length of the sleeves feels just right, like everything has been tailored to her exact measurements. It feels like she's worn these robes for years. She feels empowered rather than uncomfortable.

The Fire Daimyo gives her a nod of approval, proud of his good taste.

"Listen. We have worked too hard over the last year for things to come undone now. When we first started corresponding, I asked you a question. Do you remember what it was?"

Sakura looks up at him, pulling her attention from the slippers being placed at her feet. "You asked me if I trusted you to act in the best interest of your people." She repeats. She knew where he was going with this…

He hold her gaze in silence. Though it, she reads his intentions.

He was right, she was over reacting. "I don't know what dinner has to do with my clinics… but yes. I trust you."

"You'll understand once we're at the table. Or, as I call it, the War Room. I'll be with you every step of the way." He gestures to a full length mirror in the corner.

"So how do you feel. Ready to face the firing squad?"

Sakura turns, observing her reflection. Her heart rattles wildly against her ribs.

"As I'll ever be." She allows.

Down the hall, a grandfather clock chimes 4pm. When it rings, it seems to shatter the comfortable ease that has settled over Hitoshi. He is Cinderella realizing it's midnight. Time to leave the ball…

"Okay. Time to get you ready." He says.

Sakura looks at him in plain confusion. "Ready? But, I thought I was ready." She makes a sweeping gesture to her full regalia of ceremonial dinner robes. There's even a drawstring bag that dangles from her wrist.

"False. You are dressed, there's a difference." With that, he takes her arm in his.

Once more they are rushing down corridor after corridor. They are salmon fighting their way up stream. The onslaught of servants part effortlessly in the face of Hitoshi's royal magic.

He leads her into a formal dining room where several servants are laying out platters and dishes and cups in multitudes. She's surprised, when she sits down, to find that all of them are empty.

"You're lucky lucky to have me." Hitoshi smiles, sitting down beside her. "I've only been the Fire Daimyo for a few years, but I've become a quick study in the secret political language of Kimono colors and Obi knots.

"What's the rest of this for?" Sakura asks, picking up a piece of silverware that could probably pay her rent. "Are you going to teach me the secret political language of spoons next?"

She'd meant it as a joke. But then Hitoshi looks at her with a knowing, fatherly look.

"Close." He smirks, wickedness in his eyes. "Time to learn the secret language of cups."

Sakura thinks back to Shikamaru, who will probably spend the rest of the day sleeping comfortably in his luxury suite.

She was absolutely going to kill him.

- Authors Note -

I know this was a long one, but I absolutely love political plots like this. Thank you so much for stopping by!

In summary: Ruya is skincare goals, Utsuho is a Virgo, Kiwa is a trouble maker, and Hitoshi is Political Dad. As for Shikamaru…. My dude is sleeping on 1000 thread-count sheets tonight while Sakura does all the heavy lifting. Lazy ass.

XOXO - VB