Fugaku felt another headache building, his preparatory pain pills insufficient against the weight of this council (stretching into its fifth hour already) and the one he anticipated attending tomorrow. He tried, once again, to cycle his chakra in the way the Health Research Office posited might help with migraines.

It didn't work.

"It is important," his great uncle said, "to keep in mind the ties our people have to Konoha. This has been our home for nearly fifty years—"

"—and if I remember correctly, you were quite against that when we moved here," Fugaku's second-great-grand-cousin-once-removed murmured.

"—and several of our more remote kin have married out to civilians who may be themselves reluctant to leave." Fugaku even agreed with his great uncle. Did that help his headache? No. "The time it would take to convince them would undoubtedly be too long, especially considering Suna's already waning interest—"

"Allegedly waning," Fugaku's cousin interjected. Fugaku glared at the man.

"—and that's without even taking into account the ninja spouses of some Uchiha. And then there is the Uchiha-Yamanaka child—"

"That thing?" Fugaku's cousin spat. He was about to say more when he stopped.

Closed his mouth.

Fugaku took a breath (in, out), and then carefully pulled in his killing intent. "Do not speak of a child of the Uchiha in that way," he said, his voice carefully controlled.

(In truth, he had been very displeased when Hibiki had gone and 'fallen in love' with a Yamanaka, had a child with the girl. Doing such a thing, given the risks involved, was one of the most abhorrent acts that Konoha refused to make illegal.

(The child, named after his father, was completely blind. So far, that was the only side effect. So far. Nobody could forget the Uchiha-Akimichi child who lived in unending pain the moment he activated his sharingan, who could barely understand the world around him, who could barely get out of bed.

(And that was without dealing with the child's mother gossiping about Fugaku's wife's pregnancy well before it was publicly announced.

(Shameful, the two of them, in every act Fugaku knew of.

(But he'd had his own son since then, had woken in the middle of the night to change the boy's diapers, had helped him soothe the inevitable pain of teething, had watched with no small amount of wonder as his boy gradually discovered the world around him from his playmat in Fugaku's office.

(So Fugaku would never, ever allow a rude word to be spoken about an Uchiha child, because he understood just how much of a miracle each was.)

"The Yuki-Uchiha child, too," Fugaku's great uncle said. Bringing back the topic without allowing the elders to focus on the boy who lacked what the Uchiha valued most. "Neither the Yamanaka nor the Yuki are liable to allow one of theirs elsewhere; the Yuki in particular are sure to be against a shift to somewhere where there is no water."

"Now you are being intentionally facetious," Fugaku's fourth great grand cousin said. "The Land of Wind has a very large coastline."

"And absolutely no arable land anywhere near it," Fugaku's great uncle retorted. "I know for a fact that their religion requires proximity to the sea, and not only is Suna far from the coast, but the father of the child, should he move with us, would also not be getting any missions that have to do with the coast at all."

"Not no missions, surely. Are you saying the coast is unprotected?" Fugaku's Aunt Eba asked.

"Yes," Fugaku put himself in the conversation. "Their coastline is quite rocky and includes many sandbars, and they rely on that difficulty as protection. And the desert, of course. It seems to work."

"What time is it?" Fugaku's great, great, great aunt (the oldest of all Uchiha) asked.

There was some shuffling.

"Three in the morning," Aunt Eba said.

"Then it is well past my bedtime. Fugaku, be a dear and tell us what the Hokage called the meeting for tomorrow night. I am ever so curious."

Fugaku watched the elders remember what the meeting was supposed to be about.

"We do need to discuss—"

"I am afraid," Fugaku said, because he was not going to let this opportunity pass, "that I must relieve my son's carers. Shall we adjourn?"

There were some murmurs, but no true disagreement—it was, after all, their own fault that they'd decided to focus on Suna's offer once more rather than the far more pressing matter.

And Fugaku, even his detractors believed, would be able to deal with whatever curveball the Hokage decided to throw.

(Of course, for Fugaku there would be no surprise. It was disappointing, how quickly his kin forgot that he was heir to the Hokage. It was disappointing, how quickly his kin forgot that he might have been informed of more than them.)

.

Sakura recognized Bokuso's chakra signature before she attacked him, but it was a very near thing,

A risky gamut, sneaking into a shinobi's house. Sakura straightened, taking the stairs at a more temperate pace to find out why.

…Although, now that she thought of it, it was actually very unlikely that Bokuso knew how much she trained. Certainly the general consensus—and the international consensus too, given how little the other nations knew—was that she'd earned her rank solely due to her use of fuinjutsu and her bureaucratic might.

"And what are you sneaking about for?"

Bokuso sighed. He looked… tired. No, not tired exactly—just done. Completely and utterly done. "You cannot spread this," he started and then—without waiting for her promise—"my clan head's been having an affair."

"Oh."

"Everyone now knows."

"Oh."

How—how do Aburame even have affairs? She'd been under the impression that their bugs—you know what, never mind. Not the point.

"And this led to you sneaking in…?"

"It's… home has become unlivable: there are too many emotions. It is… bad."

"Ah. Like, new Head bad?"

Bokuso ducked his head. "Yes: Shijin's younger brother Shibi is now Head."

Sakura squinted at Bokuso. "Apologies…? Congratulations…?"

He smiled. It was thin, but there. "More congratulations than not: I converse more easily with Shibi."

…This still didn't explain why he was—

"Oh, you're here because of the summons."

Bokuso's hard work with the summons—three successes, four contracts—had propelled him into the spotlight, and Sakura had no doubt that intraclan Aburame politics were not so different from her own clan's; his prominence made him valuable, and value made it very hard to avoid the spotlight.

"And… your wife? Kids?"

"They have escaped to her non-clan mother's house. She… does not like me."

"Ah. Well, you're welcome to stay the night."

Bokuso bowed shallowly, and Sakura went back upstairs.

She… hadn't had any idea that the Aburame were having issues.

Of course, the issues could be new, but in truth it had been some time since she'd taken interest in intra-clan functions.

And when she'd talked to Bokuso, it tended to be about summons or his children (they were apparently creeping out their classmates with their eerie—and identical—behavior. He was very proud of them).

Not clan stuff.

The next morning Ibiki eyed Bokuso suspiciously, but didn't ask; generally, when a shinobi didn't volunteer information, it wasn't good to pester.

Sakura cleared her throat instead.

"So the last summoning attempt was a success?"

Bokuso ducked his head in agreement. "A very delayed success: it took sixty-three hours for him to come back. But he has."

"With…"

"Bears."

A smile flitted across Ibiki's face; Sakura nodded. "I thought it would be something like that."

"Why?" Ibiki asked. "I didn't give anything away, did I?"

"Not really. Or, I knew you were happy about it, but you'd also been happy about the Pika." Bokuso made a face; he hadn't managed to hide his pain over their apparent uselessness, even after Konoha found a very effective use for them. "It was more—the gossip has made it very clear that it was something powerful."

"How would they even know?"

"We're a city of ninja, Ibiki," Sakura said. "It would be weirder if they didn't have any idea. Are the bears cooperating, then?"

"With a necessary addendum about not being made to fight against their Iwa summoners."

"You know… I'd really thought that was a bloodline." Because the bears that Sakura had heard of on the frontline had been vicious things, tearing into any who came across them with a sort of innate sadism that felt disparate from her own internal understanding of summons. More to the point, she couldn't remember anybody ever talking about them escaping to their world, which tended to be one of the most noticeable behaviors of any summons, primarily because most couldn't help but do it instinctively after suffering any amount of damage.

"So had I," Bokuso agreed. "It is why we are so pleased."

"Because they can get hurt?" Ibiki asked. "Or, I mean, are willing to?"

"Yes."

"Huh."

It was odd, wasn't it? That such a thing—the willingness to suffer—was one of the most powerful thing a summoning contract could contain.

"What was it like?" Ibiki asked then. "Seeing the bear?"

Bokuso looked at her godson. Smiled. "Awe inspiring."

.

The Aburame clan issues worried Hyuuga Mawaru. Not—he was faithful to his wife, of course, even if there was no love lost between them; but they had two children to remain in good standing for, and neither were likely to ruin that.

It was more that—

It was more that his descendants would have to worry about that.

If he were to head a new clan, and he would, then he would need to factor in risks such as these in the future.

The Aburame were visibly upset with each other, visibly sniping back and forth when even a day ago there hadn't been even a furrowed brow to notice, and Mawaru's brother said that the Hokage was even sending messages to the frontlines, having the Aburame pulled back before they could learn the scandal on their own and make any mistakes.

In hours the clan had gone from one of the most stable, solid clans in Konoha to—this.

And Mawaru worried.

He wanted to know how to prevent it, how to magic up a solution that would work not only for his generation but for every generation after, how to keep his family from suffering as he could see the Aburame do.

He strongly suspected that such a solution did not exist.

Regardless, the Aburame and the new problems they had brought forward would have to wait; the Hokage had called a meeting with each council, and because he allowed two Hyuuga representatives, Mawaru needed to finish getting dressed to make it in time.

The meeting couldn't be about the Aburame; perhaps a new clan had decided to join Konoha?

.

Shikaku frowned as an ANBU—was that a deer mask?—dropped sealed packages in front of each clan representative. And two for the Hyuuga, of course. He glanced at the new Aburame representative—the new Head, Shibi, because the Aburame strongly believed their Head should be the chief representative of their clan—and wondered what that decision had been like, rushed as it was.

He tried to unseal the package.

Nothing happened.

Interesting… sealing wasn't something he excelled in, and the seal itself was intentionally convoluted. Based on this being a meeting with the Hokage, however… perhaps a requirement that Namikaze's chakra be in the vicinity? That would be a new sort of lock-seal, but Shikaku knew that creating protected seals was now the final test of the Academy class, during the third year, and at least some of those had to introduce novel ideas.

(His second cousin had failed the test, exploding half his face in the process. It had taken two months for the boy to get out of the hospital, and his mother had caught him sneaking out to try to remedy his failure the very next day.)

Shibi, Shikaku noticed, was not attempting to talk to anyone. Inoichi hadn't yet stopped talking—something about his fiancée's nephew, and Shikaku knew he really should be paying more attention, but in his defense he'd had to deal with a Ryoku popping up on the battlefield yesterday (he had, unfortunately, escaped) and then rush home, so…

Fugaku looked dead.

He always looked dead.

And—

There was the Yellow Flash.

Right on time, as always.

"Hello, Clan Heads!" the Hokage said. His smile was frustratingly infectious; Shikaku didn't even know why the man was happy, and yet he could still feel himself relaxing, ignoring his headache for the moment. "I have some very, very good news!"

Shikaku really wished he would just get to it. He tried to open the seal again. It failed. Again.

"Are you ready?"

Really. It was like they were watching a children's puppet show, the way the Hokage was drawing things out.

The Hokage's smile got, if anything, even wider. "I have negotiated peace with Iwa!"

The room erupted. Shikaku felt—happy, anxious, relieved, apprehensive, confused, thrilled—

Shikaku felt everything.

"What are the terms?" Hyuuga Hiashi asked.

Fugaku, Shikaku noted, certainly already knew.

Fair enough.

"They are in the seals in front of you," Namikaze Minato said, and, of course, that was when Shikaku was finally able to open the package.

He had so many questions about the seal.

He'd have to harass the Nara researchers later.

"I strongly suggest you review the peace treaty quickly; I am going to announce to the Department Heads next, then to the non-clan representatives in the Elders' Council—who will be given modified information for security reasons—and then the People's Council—who will not be getting the package at all, to be clear. Also, you will not be allowed to leave the room with your copies; they must be burnt first. After that I will be receiving one representative from this group to ask questions, so think fast.

"Oh, and the peace treaty is an alliance too. Have fun!"

And then the Hokage left.

Well, that was one way to assert his authority. Everyone would want to stick their nib in to make sure that they thought the treaty and alliance were both satisfactory, both sufficiently in Konoha's favor, but by making it clear that the treaty already happened, not even mentioning the alliance until the end, and diverting their attention to who would be allowed to ask questions while imposing a time limit even before that—

Smart.

Shikaku glanced at his copy, sighed, and started to read.

Around him already other Heads were arguing over who got to ask the questions, over whether the treaty was acceptable based only on their supposition over what was inside.

…Interestingly, Fugaku wasn't participating.

.

Yamanaka Sayuri hated that Sakura was her sister.

Not really, of course, but in times like these—when Sayuri had to read the Yamanaka missives just in case there were hidden messages (because clearly she would know; after all, her sister was Yamanaka Sakura), Sayuri found herself unusually short-tempered.

She wasn't Sakura, was the thing.

Didn't have the same 'sense'.

She was more of a think-on-your-feet kind of person, not a think-ahead kind of person.

And the missives were always think-ahead kind of notes.

"Here," Yamanaka Ren (not her brother, but the Yamanaka certainly liked their flora theme) handed her the latest note.

He looked—odd.

Sayuri grabbed the note.

Skimmed.

Skimmed again.

Actually read it.

"Shit," Sayuri said, and then all the Yamanaka were staring at her, wanting to know what she and Ren had clearly noticed.

"I know nothing, promise!" Sayuri lied. "Just that a big message is coming today!"

Ren nodded in agreement. Of course, he wasn't lying.

Sayuri hated that Sakura was her sister sometimes (not really), but sometimes the bond had its benefits; no one else knew this 'squabble' was about to be over.

But—

Why had Sakura told her?

And why just her, in coded language that really only she and their siblings would understand, because Sakura came up with so many different codes that she'd gone the extra step of creating ones for each group in her life?

Sayuri smirked.

It took an hour to leave without rousing suspicion, but then it was little effort to volunteer to take one of her bunkmate's shifts, make her way away from her typical route (tracking possible infiltrators, possible dangers) and closer to Kumo's frontlines.

She stayed out of sight, stayed quiet, watched.

Who seemed ready for what would be announced tomorrow?

Who didn't?

(Both parties wouldn't want peace to get out before it was certain, but both would also tell those in power, those that it would be otherwise problematic not to tell.

(And who those people were—who those clans were—that was valuable information. Sayuri was sure Kumo had their own spies, but she had no doubt that both were focused on the frontlines.

(That, Sayuri thought, was why Sakura told her. To watch those that weren't thought to be important enough to be watched.

(It didn't take long for Sayuri's effort to see results.)