"Eyes getting wet,

Don't be upset,

But my heart really wants to cry.

Don't go away yet."

-Ikanaide, JubyPhonic

I held a cloak up in front of me.

It was long and black, with a red line circling the collar and running down the middle. On the floor next to me was a piece that came with it, an armored pouch that was supposed to be tied around my stomach.

The outside felt rubbery and rough, made to resist the rain and hard to cut through. The inside was a soft gray.

I stared at the cloak, turning it back and forth, searching.

It was missing something, but I didn't know what.

Konan, standing closer to the door and Yahiko, eyed her own cloak skeptically. "Who did you rob for these and how fast will they be here?"

Yahiko, grinning, was already wearing his. "Your lack of faith cuts deep," he answered, but he was too happy to pretend he was upset.

"When they show up," Konan began. "I won't stop them from taking you."

Kota had shrugged hers on the moment after Yahiko handed it to her. She stood in front of the painting of the sun, fingers gently tracing shapes on the weathered paper.

Yahiko looked thoughtful. "How did I live with you for so long before Nagato and Oka?"

"I didn't live with you," Konan corrected. "You lived with me."

"That doesn't answer the question," Yahiko noted.

"It was a fair trade," Mamoru-sensei interrupted, and Konan stared at him.

"You helped him?" she asked.

Mamoru-sensei, sitting at the table, quietly sipped his tea and didn't answer.

Naga, across from him, tugged thoughtfully at the baggy sleeves of his own cloak. A lukewarm cup was in front of him.

"Maybe we should think about making Konan our backup. She's not so good with people..."

Konan spun towards Yahiko. "I'm fine with people. But you're not people. You're... you!"

"'You're you'," Yahiko repeated. "I should frame that."

"What did you do?" Osamu asked, looking at his cloak in bewilderment. "This material is expensive, especially now."

Yahiko's grinned, lacing his hands behind his head. "Let's just say that we shouldn't fish in the lake any time soon," he drawled. "It'll take a while for them to repopulate."

Konan's eyes widened. "How much fish did you trade?"

"Some secrets should stay secrets," he said airily.

Konan dropped down next to the table. "How much fish did he trade?" she asked Mamoru.

Mamoru-sensei took another long sip before he said, "Around sixty."

Konan pressed both hands on the table. "Isn't that all the adult fish?"

"Most," Mamoru agreed.

"I almost forgot what the bottom of the lake looked like," Yahiko said wistfully.

Joji, sitting in the space between the hallway and the main room, held his sword in his lap, polishing it with an old shirt. His own cloak was folded next to him.

Osamu's brows furrowed. "How much per cloak?"

"Five for Oka's. Four-and-a half for Kota. Seven-and-a half for Konan. Eight for me and Nagato," Yahiko paused, stroking his chin. "If only you knew how long it took to find someone willing to hear me out."

"Never mind that," Konan dismissed, turning to Naga. "How much fish do we have left?"

Naga peeked up from inspecting the inside of his cloak. "Enough for today and tomorrow."

Konan nodded, pushing away from the table. "I'm going to go set some traps."

"Since when do you know how to build traps?" Yahiko asked.

"Now," she said, stalking outside.

Mamoru-sensei sighed deeply, drank the last of his tea, and stood. "You're all ridiculously bullheaded," he announced, then followed Konan.

"I think he really likes us," Yahiko mused once he was gone.

I looked at my cloak again, crumpled and forgotten in my lap. "I know you," I murmured, as if it could hear me.

"What's our name?" it was Kota who asked, facing us.

Yahiko paused, hand frozen on his chin.

She pointed at the door. "The people out there jus' call us 'them' or 'you' or 'Hanzo's kids', but we—we're not with them," she said. "Hanzo's people—it's their fault there are so many people on the street."

I pulled the cloak on, stretching my arms through the sleeves. It was a little small, but that was okay. "It's 'cause of the war, Kota," I said. I blamed Hanzo the bastard for Mamoru-sensei's arm, for Osamu's eye, and for not stopping Root and Danzo, but I didn't blame him for this.

"You're wrong," Kota said, eyes bright. She took a step towards me. "You say that, but the shinobi are fed right so they can fight. The war's been goin' on my whole life, but I've never, ever seen a shinobi go hungry. They leave and don't come back, sure, but they go with food and rations while the rest of us starve. That's not the war."

When I tried to conjure the image of a starving shinobi—swearing, swearing I saw one—I came up blank. I couldn't think of a single person I saw with shinobi attire or scars that lived on the street.

She's right, I realized.

Why did anyone fight to protect Amegakure when all the people living inside would've starved to death when they came back?

I suddenly didn't understand anything about shinobi.

Why, why, why.

"We're not like that," Kota said firmly, catching her breath. "We feed the people, not those stupid shinobi. So, we need a name."

"They're not stupid," I said.

Kota bunched the cloak up in her fists. "This is their war. We starve 'cause of them. Everything that ever went wrong in this big, dumb world—"

"We're shinobi," I said thoughtfully, and Kota's words caught in her throat. "We're not Hanzo the Bastard's shinobi—"

Osamu choked.

"—but we're shinobi too. I don't think they're stupid, 'cause it's not their fault. They don't decide where food goes, and they don't decide where they go for a mission." I paused. "I don't think they know what they're fighting for anymore."

"Hanzo the Bastard is a shinobi too," Kota hissed.

"He is," I agreed. "But there are bad civilians too. The people who broke your nose—were they shinobi?"

Kota went very still.

I didn't think so.

"It must be really tough to be the leader of a place like this. I wouldn't wish it on anyone who isn't me," Yahiko mused, and we both turned. His hands were behind his head, eyes on the roof. "I think you're both right. There's not enough for everyone, so most of it go to the shinobi because without them Amegakure would've been destroyed a long time ago and none of us would've been born."

"The problem," Yahiko began. "Is that Hanzo doesn't realize that the Amegakure he's trying to protect is already dead. We need shinobi, but we need the civilians too. The people that are starving and miserable—they're not loyal to this crybaby village anymore. They only stay because there isn't anywhere else to go. What's a village without loyalty? Right now, Amegakure isn't a village. It's two groups of people suffering together. The shinobi fight a war without end, die for nothing, and come back to nothing. It's why if they don't die, they defect."

Joji made a poor attempt at a sound that was supposed to be clearing his throat to get our attention, and I caught a few of the signs as he spoke with his hands.

"What—you—about it?"

Kota frowned. "What did he say?"

"What would you do about it?" Osamu provided, but he was looking at Yahiko.

Yahiko's gaze returned to the roof. "I'd share it with everyone. It'd make things harder for shinobi, but I think Amegakure would start feeling like a village again. Knowing that everyone is feeling the same pain, knowing that I was choosing the people over the place. It would weaken our fighting force and defenses, but making a place people want to protect is more important to me."

I smiled as Joji and Osamu stared at him.

Kota nodded, exaggerated in a way that told me she didn't understand all that he said.

Yahiko looked down and laughed when he saw their faces. "I'll think of a name," he promised Kota.

夕暮れ

Five of us sat outside in the rain.

Yahiko, laying back on the grass, hands behind his head, a smile on his face.

I sat on his left, looking up at the dark clouds, Namekuji curled up and asleep in my lap.

Naga was on Yahiko's right. He was on his stomach, cheek squished against the wet grass, hair slick and shiny with baby slime goo.

I could hear his soft snores.

Konan was next to Naga, humming as she folded paper into flowers. She put a finished one on his back.

"Akatsuki," Yahiko spoke suddenly.

I looked at him. Konan paused mid-fold.

"That's what I'm naming us," he explained. "For the day we see dawn."

"'Akatsuki,'" I repeated, rolling the name around on my tongue as I glanced back at the sky. I felt a little closer to the day I would finally get to see the sun.

"Finally," Konan sighed. "You took so long I thought I would have to do it." She reached over and put a paper flower on his forehead.

Yahiko went cross-eyed looking at it. "I thought up a lot of names, but none of them felt right," he said, tilting his head slightly her way. "But then I thought of my friends, and what I said to all of you the first time we met, and it came to me."

Konan stared at him, half-leaning over Naga, forgetting she was supposed to be teasing him, bickering with him, or reprimanding him in the face of Yahiko being Yahiko.

Yahiko grinned and she finally, hastily drew back. His grin widened and Konan busied herself with her paper.

He tilted his head my way, somehow keeping the paper flower balanced. "What do you think of our new name?"

"Whatever it is, it's bad," Namekuji mumbled.

He was asleep again before I could poke him.

"It's..." I trailed off, searching for the right words. I thought of a boy with orange hair, a little kid himself, putting himself in danger so Naga and I could get away.

I looked at Konan, making her own happiness as she smiled and folded pieces together.

Naga, content and relaxed.

"...who we were always meant to be," I finished.

Yahiko beamed. I couldn't help matching his grin. "Learn how to set up traps yet? Or is Mamoru-sensei still doing it for you?"

Konan stiffened. "He wasn't—he only gave me a few tips."

"I see, so setting up the traps, hiding them, and bringing back what was caught is a 'few tips'?" Yahiko asked.

"On second thought, Akatsuki is a bad name."

Yahiko laughed.

.

.

.

I was half-asleep, laying on my side with Namekuji curled against my chest when Yahiko spoke again, eyes closed,

"I love you guys," it was a sleepy murmur, a quiet admission in the dark.

I pulled Namekuji into my arms (ignoring his whines), and shifted closer, using Yahiko's stomach as a pillow as I laid back down. Namekuji made himself comfortable on the new warm, squishy body and I knew his shirt would be ruined by morning.

Yahiko didn't seem to mind though. He didn't even twitch.

Konan shifted closer, with the same idea, except she used Naga's back.

"I... love you too," Konan admitted. I watched her eyes widen, her hands shoot up to cover her face.

I couldn't see if it was red in the dark.

"I didn't mean—I meant everyone," she sputtered. "Not just..." she trailed off, because Yahiko was already asleep.

She sighed, and I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore.

.

.

.

A few minutes later Nagato woke up at the bottom of an impromptu dog-pile, extremely confused.

夜明け

I twisted my plank to the red side, carefully lowering it back between Naga's and Konan's.

Kota's plank was next to Yahiko's, covered with swirls of red and silver. Osamu's was beside hers, a doughy figure made of red circles, colored silver by an unsteady hand. Joji's was on the opposite end, a small red stick figure with a silver cloak and a silver sword twice its size.

Kota turned hers next to me and it clattered against the wall when she let go.

"Why does sword-man get a plank, but I don't?" Namekuji asked, half over my shoulder.

"It's a Nagamaki," I corrected. That's what Joji called it, anyway.

Namekuji blew hot air at my cheek.

I twisted to avoid the spray, wiping the area clean with my sleeve. "You said they were stupid."

"I did," Namekuji agreed. "What's your point?"

I didn't answer right away, walking around to the front of the hideout. "Would you change it like you're supposed to?"

"No."

I paused. "Then why do you want one?"

Behind me, Kota inspected a bruise near her elbow. The bottom of her cloak was muddy.

"Because everyone else has one," Namekuji answered, leaning on the top of my head.

I pushed open the door. "Not everyone."

"The people who matter."

Yahiko sat at the table, a half-eaten fish in his mouth. He waved without turning around. Joji stood against the wall near the door, arms crossed, sword strapped to his side—

I blinked. We ran out of fish days ago.

My eyes snapped back to Yahiko.

He didn't ask for the password. Scanning the room, I didn't see Konan or Mamoru-sensei. I reached for a kunai in the pouch tied to my front.

Kota stepped around me. She didn't notice at first, still looking at her arm. Then her head snapped up and she fumbled her hands together. "Kai!" she shouted.

"She's almost as bad as you were," Namekuji noted.

I shushed him.

Though she didn't use chakra, the genjutsu still fell apart. Everything shifted. Joji stood against the wall closer to the window, flipping through the book Jiraya left us. He didn't look up. Konan, at the table, lowering her hands to her lap. She smiled.

"Faster," she praised. "But still too slow."

Kota huffed.

"That goes for both of you," Konan said, catching my eye. "You noticed first, Oka, but it still took a second longer than it should've. It's been a while since you've practiced, hasn't it? Maybe you should come with me and Kota next time."

I looked around the room as she spoke.

Mamoru-sensei, opposite of Yahiko at the table, legs folded beneath him.

Osamu, trying to take up as little space as possible in the corner.

Naga and Etsudo in the middle of the room. Etsudo was stretched out on her back, expression pinched. A blood-soaked blanket was pressed to her side, and Naga picked out tiny shards of glass and metal in her stomach with his other hand.

She was tanned and muscled, with slick black hair tied in a messy ponytail.

Naga was wearing my scarf, but not his cloak. His hair was tied back, fingers stained red.

I pulsed my chakra once, just in case, but nothing changed.

Konan smiled. "Maybe you're not as rusty as I thought."

"Password?" Yahiko asked.

"Nagato and I are sensors," Konan reminded him, deadpan.

"Zero," I answered anyway.

Yahiko blinked.

"Nothing," I said, daring him to correct me.

Yahiko blinked again. He turned to Naga. "Is that Oka?"

"I'm trying to concentrate," Naga said, fighting off a smile.

"You're not even using chakra—"

"Why didn't you ask me?" Konan interrupted, poking his chest.

I crept closer to the table, stepping over Osamu's legs and skirting around Kota. "We have a password, but no one likes using it," I declared.

Yahiko slowly shook his head, "Many clans have fallen from not taking the password system seriously."

Konan leaned forward. "Name one."

Yahiko looked at her, then at Namekuji. "What do I have to give you to reverse-summon Konan to Shikkotsu and leave her there?"

Konan rolled her eyes. "Just because I expose your lies—"

"One of those meaty things you ate yesterday," Namekuji answered, still on my head.

"A binturong?"

"I'm worth more than one binturong," Konan protested.

"Just the back legs," Namekuji added.

Yahiko rubbed his chin. "How will you trick her into standing on a summoning circle?"

"Oka will tell her I'm eating her paper."

"You can't make plans about me like I'm not here—"

"I won't," I sniffed.

Namekuji looked down at me.

"I'll do it," Kota offered. "But only if I get more silver paint. I ran out."

"At least someone here is reliable," Namekuji said.

Konan sighed, "I thought we were supposed to be moving, Yahiko."

Yahiko turned towards her. "We were waiting for Oka and Kota."

Konan gestured wildly at us.

"You'll pull a muscle like that."

Konan dropped her hands. "You're so annoying."

Yahiko grinned. "And yet you stuck with me this whole time."

Konan looked at him, then quickly away. "Someone has to keep you in check," she muttered, but without any heat.

Kota had moved away from them, gently peeling the painting of the sun off the wall. She carefully folded it and tucked it under her cloak.

Yahiko's grin grew. He laced his hands behind his head, looking around the hideout. "This place has been good to us, but we've outgrown it. It's time to move on."

"By that you mean we can't walk a foot without tripping over someone else?"

"Konan the Moment-Ruiner," Yahiko said wistfully.

"What's the new hideout like?" I asked.

"Bigger," Yahiko answered. "Emptier. It used to be used as a place to store food out of the rain, but it was abandoned in the last war."

I tilted my head. "The 'last war'?"

"The Second Shinobi World War," it was Mamoru-sensei who answered. "That was what they called the last war. This is the Third Shinobi World War."

"What's the difference?"

Konan winced.

It was all still war, wasn't it?

"There is none," Yahiko said. "They can call it by different names, say it isn't that bad or tell us that it stopped for a while, but we know it never did. Not for us. That's why we have to make them stop. To make sure they never start again."

My eyes lit up. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to hear one of his speeches. He made me believe we could all over again. "Promise?"

Yahiko made a 'x' over his chest. "Cross my heart."

"I checked the place myself," Mamoru-sensei assured Konan. "It's safe. But it was the anomaly who found it in the first place."

Yahiko shot me a quick grin and stood. "Can she be moved?" he asked Naga.

Naga sat back. Shards were piled on an old, ripped pair of blue pants next to him. "I already took care of the damage to the abdominal wall and lower intestines," he explained, peeling back the blanket to look at a red, angry-looking scar.

Yahiko nodded. "And that means..."

"She can," Naga said, smiling. "But be careful."

Yahiko looked to Osamu.

Dipping his head in acknowledgement, Osamu pushed himself up and lumbered over to Etsudo. He knelt, murmuring a quiet apology as he pulled her into his arms as gently as he could.

Etsudo still bit back a scream, biting her lip so hard that blood dribbled down her chin.

Naga inspected her scar-line again and nodded at Yahiko.

"Time to go," Yahiko said. He picked up his practice swords, gave the room one last, quick look and then stepped out.

I followed him, walking backwards once I was outside. Kota came out behind me, then Konan and Mamoru-sensei.

I never noticed how small the hideout looked from the outside.

Naga carefully tucked his medical book deep within his cloak before he stepped out.

I remembered the gratitude in his eyes when Tsunade gave it to him, how happy I was when we ate fish with Jiraya, the anger when Naga folded in on himself when she left.

Good and bad memories, all mixed up in my head.

Joji was next, then Osamu ducked out, hunched over, trying his hardest to protect Etsudo from the rain.

All the planks were flipped to the red side, except the toad and the slug.

I held up my arms and grinned, "Goodbye!"

A/N: 夕暮れ - Dusk, 夜明け - Dawn

I wanted to get to this chapter for a long time. There's only one other chapter I've waited this long for, and I think you all know what it is.