Sakura hated the Shimura Clan.

Or, at least, she hated the way the Shimura Clan had never forgiven her for what had happened with Danzo.

He was the crazy one! She'd barely done anything; she hadn't been part of the investigative team that tracked the cemetery to him, not part of the team that had tracked him down, killed him. All she'd done was not hide the fact that he made her uneasy.

She didn't even know anything about the battle that took him down, except that it had been hard! Everything else had been kept secret!

…To be fair, the Shimura Head and elders had also never forgiven the Uchiha. So…

But it sucked, because so many other elders and Heads were already leery of her (too much change, too fast; too much power, too much control over the ear of the Hokage) and then she had the Shimura on top of them, who couldn't be convinced by logic, by ethos or pathos, by benefitting their clans enough that they just sort of backed off.

The Shimura just. Would. Not. Stop.

Sakura worked very hard not to show the stress on her face, but if this kept up then Hotaru would have to start doing these meetings instead.

"Clan Head Shimura—"

"I simply believe," Clan Head Shimura interrupted, "that we should discuss more often the increasingly unreasonable demands of the Research Department. We already outpace the rest of the continent in inventions; what possible reason could there be for more resources to be diverted from where they might be more necessary?"

Sakura did not glance on the Hokage. He'd been sort of out of it all day, in the middle of some deep thinking, and that was likely why the Shimura had decided to try, again, to push.

"I assure you, many of our inventions actually reduce the resources needed—"

The Shimura Clan Head scoffed. "The benefits are negligible at best."

Sakura turned to the Utilities Department Head. "Head Hagoromo, do you agree?" The Head, who had only been officially confirmed last month, swallowed. She was the best candidate, and very involved, but she also clearly wanted to stay out of politics. Nevertheless, she was a very honest woman, and that helped.

"The Research Department's inventions have vastly improved our sewage and water systems, created the communications systems… while the Utilities Department has not necessarily seen a large drop in costs," here the Shimura Clan Head grinned, clearly already aware of that fact, "it has also vastly expanded in scope and populous served. If we were limited to only the people we served and the utilities we had prior to the… explosion… of the Research Department, the reduction in costs would probably lead to our Department simply being consolidated into another."

The problem, Sakura thought, with the Shimura Clan, was that since Danzo's death they'd gotten into the habit of throwing everything at the 'problem' and seeing what sticks.

Very little stuck.

The Shimura Clan Head moved to speak again, but before he could Sakura turned to the next Department Head.

"Head Uchiha, how has the Services Department fared with the additional funding to the Research Department?"

The Uchiha grinned back. "Quite well, actually. The new tools to fight fires have allowed us to create a smaller, but more trained, permanent group of fire fighters, which has more than halved the time to control an uncontrolled fire. Admittedly, the Research inventions haven't done much for our childcare services, but that's mostly just funding daycares anyway. In terms of disability services—"

"Your Department is asking for more money, though, money which you have not yet received." The Shimura Head pointed out.

"Yes, and we could use the money, but that's only because all departments but War & Security and Research had major cuts during the war. Hokage Namikaze has already assured that we will receive increased funding, but other Departments such as Utilities, Justice, and Commerce, have understandably been prioritized."

"And Research," the Shimura Head needled.

Commerce Head Mitokado, who had so far remained silent, cleared his throat. "What I believe you are missing," he said, "is that the Research Department's developments help the whole of Konoha, including our individual departments. Of course, every department is utterly necessary, but the direct link between, say, Health and Commerce, isn't as obvious, as new medical inventions and the invention Inuzuka Erigami is currently working on. In addition, you are only here as a substitute for Finance Head Shimura, and yet your personal attacks have become increasingly… personal, rather than focusing on the subject of your department. I remind you that this is a Departments meeting."

That was surprising, but perhaps less than it would have been several years ago. Both the Utatane and Mitokado had not taken the Shimuras' increasing recklessness lightly, and for all that they had historic links that none wanted to ignore, they were also increasingly reluctant to play along with the Shimuras' fantasies.

It was a change Sakura welcomed with open arms.

.

She couldn't be pregnant.

It had to be a mistake.

All the pregnancy tests—four, now, because she knew where the Police Headquarters stored them and how to get there unseen—had to be a mistake.

(She knew they weren't.)

He wasn't even here anymore, had gone back to Uzu with the rest of his clan.

(She knew she needed to tell someone.)

It was almost like it hadn't happened, except that it had.

(She knew some of her friends already suspected, suspected the pregnancy or the fling or both.)

She couldn't be pregnant.

(She was.)

Uchiha Hono had a bright future. She'd awakened the sharingan; she'd excelled at everything she'd ever tried to do—

The plan was for her to marry some other, distantly related, Uchiha in a few years, maybe retire then, take care of a brood of Uchiha children.

(Her child would be Uchiha, because she was. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that the child, should they survive, would also be Yuki.)

She hadn't even minded the plan, had kind-of liked it, liked the idea of having a decade or so of adrenaline-filled days, and then get to take a break, raise some kids.

She'd even thought about how after her future children were in school, she could start a second career, work at the Headquarters' forensic division or something.

(She needed to tell him. He deserved to know.)

She stared at the pregnancy tests, lying side by side as if looking long enough might change the results.

She could hear her roommate in the hall, laughing with her boyfriend. The jingle as she fought through her unnecessarily large key ring to unlock the door.

She could hear her roommate realizing the door was unlocked, something Hono would never normally forget to do.

She could hear her roommate's raised voice, calling out, asking if she was home.

She just wished she couldn't.

.

The pox was spreading.

Ibiki frowned as they finished the day. By Sensei's count, Konoha had managed to vaccinate at least half the people in the southwestern plains.

It didn't feel like enough.

They weren't on any major trade routes, but the pox did seem to be transmissible through animals, so they'd been reassigned here to deal with the families that herded cattle.

It didn't feel like enough.

Sensei got a lot of mail, a lot of information. All of it said that the western half of the continent was all-but drowning in death.

And the Chuunin Exams were still coming.

And Konoha literally couldn't make vaccines fast enough to dose every single person in Fire.

And Ibiki—

"Why don't they just postpone the exams? Cut off the borders until we finish vaccinating everyone?"

Sensei snorted. "You're a diplomat's kid, you tell me."

It still felt like humans' lives should be worth more.

"Don't you agree, Misaki?"

Misaki shrugged. "I don't know. If we cut off trade, and don't have the exams, then we might end up in another war immediately. Maybe even a samurai war—I doubt other Daimyos would take being cut off well. This seems like the least deadly option."

Sadao, who was picking his nails with a kunai in complete defiance of the weapon handling classes they'd had at the Academy, grunted his agreement. "We won't be able to get everyone, yeah, but Konoha's basically all been treated, and we got just about everyone who was willing to take the shot on major trade routes, and now we're even treating the stupid animals. It's gonna be fine; we'll have a much lower death toll than the rest of the continent."

"But we will have a death toll," Ibiki emphasized.

"Yeah, and life sucks. Any other obvious statements?"

Sensei rolled her eyes when Ibiki lunged at Sadao, stepping over them to look at Misaki's latest stitchwork.

"Decent. You need to learn how to work faster, though. If you're stitching skin together instead of using a jutsu, it's going to be because you are overworked and need to use chakra sparingly, which means there's at least a half-dozen patients who will die if you don't get to them fast enough."

"Hai, Sensei."

"I'm going to… not drink. Um." Sensei stood, torn with indecision. She did that sometimes.

Ibiki grunted as Sadao shoved his knee into Ibiki's stomach. "Teach us jutsu?"

"…Yeah, I guess I can do that. Alright, stand up. Let's see where you're at."

.

You could smell the rain.

More than anything else, you could smell the rain.

Practically speaking, the rain was only a burden—it meant they had to rush in and out of the building, moving between the wagon and his newly rented apartment as quickly as possible.

But—

But he'd only arrived here yesterday, arrived after his father admitted that, with the new tools he'd purchased, he didn't really need all three of his sons to stay at the farm, arrived after he'd written to his uncle, who had written to his cousin, who had written to Takumi and invited him to work at his ramen shop, at least long enough to get an understanding of how business worked.

And now, after seventeen years of wanting nothing more than to own a business of his own, buy and sell and trade with the ease that old Fukaru did in their village—

Now he'd arrived.

At step one, at least.

And—

And he wasn't alone, was he? His uncle's cousin and his uncle's cousin's wife were helping, as well as two little ninja (far too young, in his mind, to really be ninja) who had seen them working and volunteered their assistance, and the work was being done quickly, and the furniture he'd carted all the way from home was already inside, and yeah, he'd slipped in the mud, but then while helping him up one of the genin slipped in too and then all of them were laughing, and—

"Come on, come on! Get up! The mud's just getting a chance to soak in now!" his uncle's cousin shouted.

"Yes, Uncle Teuchi! Sorry!" Takumi shouted back. And he got up, and smiled, and looked around, at the wonderful place he now lived in, and—

And you could smell the rain.

Practically speaking, the rain was only a burden.

But to him, it smelled like opportunity.

.

It wasn't hatred.

Hatred was the wrong word.

Hatred implied antipathy, loathing.

It wasn't hatred.

It was contempt. It was distaste. It was disapproval, and dissatisfaction, and dislike.

He didn't feel hatred, but what he did feel wasn't that far off.

The problem was, those feelings were directed at the Daimyo. Shin could dislike, disapprove of the Daimyo all he liked—he could work against him in a myriad of little and big ways—but actually removing the Daimyo from the power that he was abusing (his father, he always wanted to live up to his father. Well, his father left most decisions to his council. His father spent a few hours every day studying the forces and effects behind and resulting from laws, both proposed and enacted. His father was charismatic, in his own way, and did not need continuous help preventing a noble rebellion, a geographical rebellion, and a general rebellion. He would never be his father) was impossible.

Well, practically speaking, it wasn't.

Shin could just slit his throat.

That would immediately put the lives of all of his loved ones at risk, however, and the rest of the continent probably wouldn't stop until at least half of Konoha was dead and buried, including all of Ino-Shika-Cho, so…

Impossible.

Instead, Shin had written to the Hokage.

And the Hokage had written back, explained his extreme reluctance. So Shin had disguised himself, went to an inn less than an hour's run from Konoha. Hokage Namikaze joined as another down on his luck traveler, they'd booked a room together to save costs, and they'd spent the night talking.

Shin knew Hokage Minato was still reluctant, still very worried about how this could affect future generations—

But he felt very similarly about the current Daimyo, and anything that could prevent more of that had to be worth a try, side effects or no.

He didn't tell anyone.

They wouldn't approve, and it was a military dictatorship anyway.

And now, now that Shin had permission, it was time to make sure that any future diplomatic Emissary, particularly a semi-permanent one like him, didn't have as much to worry about.

There were, in total, sixteen people that he targeted. All were relatively adults, finished with the beginning of their samurai service and stationed more-or-less full time in and around the Capital.

All were also the sixteen with the biggest claims to the throne, assuming every possible order of death.

(Shin had been working on this for a while.)

He was already friends or at least friendly with all of them, had worked his way into their circles of trust over years. Even the ones who 'didn't like' shinobi liked Shin.

(Shin was often surprised at how quickly people could forget that he was a shinobi, when they wanted to. It was never something he had to try to accomplish; it was just automatic.)

He started by talking to them more, talking about various happenings across the Land of Fire, about international politics (because Fire politics always made people realize he was a shinobi again), about the technological revolution that all the scholars were so excited about, about science, and history, and economics.

That was step one.

Step two waited until a more opportune moment, which varied by man. For most, however, it came when they were betrayed, or passed over, or tricked. He did not force these—never mind the danger, he simply didn't need to.

When that happened, he reminded them that he was a shinobi. He did this by offering to teach them outright, by offering to help prevent such a thing from happening again.

So far, it had only happened thrice, but all three had agreed.

And so Shin taught them about emotions, and information, and manipulation, and how to parse through each. He taught them about Fire politics, and the media, and the forces at play overtly, covertly, and ambiguously.

He taught them, so that the next Daimyo would know.

He taught them, so that the next Daimyo's advisors would know.

He taught them, and it added hours to his plate each day, and Shin was never more relieved that he needed so little sleep, and it was worth it.

It was worth it, for even the slightest chance that this would work. For the slightest chance that the next Daimyo would be competent.

Because one day, maybe some day soon, Shin would fail to navigate this Daimyo through one social event or another, and a rebellion would come, and people would die.

And Shin might not be able to prevent that, not in all his many plans, but he could do his best to make sure it only needed to happen once.