Kurenai was surprised that her cup didn't shatter in her hands. A brief, selfish thought ran through her head that she wished it did so that its pieces would have embedded themselves into her palms and made her bleed, just to ground her down with further proof that everything she just heard was real.

Because it all started to make a lot more sense when they told her that Sakura wasn't just a Sakura, but a Hoshigaki Sakura.

There hadn't been a thunderclap in the distance upon her admission nor an explosion of emotion that brought Kurenai to her knees. Instead, it came quietly around the dining table in her kids' unit, all of them settled in the seats that had enough room around them that their elbows didn't have to touch but chose to practically squish into the same seat anyways. Sakura spoke in low tones from between Kiba's and Shino's bodies, eyes red-rimmed and downcast as they traced over the prosthetic laid out to dry on the table. Akamaru laid across three pairs of feet, attentive as he always was.

She spoke about a mother she only knew as a gravestone, a young father half-gone on missions, a somber angel who taught her what it meant to be exemplary, a leader she couldn't mention without fear. All she'd known was rain and streets under the cover of cold nights when there were less people out to see her so no one could know of her; she spent her days in her room, the training grounds, the library in the Pillar—always the Pillar—and not much else. She never made any friends but she always had Dad or Konan-san so it hadn't bothered her then, and she'd known a Kakuzu, Orochimaru, Sasori.

"He told me Leader-sama would find me," she said. "He'd laugh if he saw that I was the one to seek him out before he had the chance."

Sakura's story ended at the warehouse the day she met those Konoha-nin who took her away. No need to be redundant, right? Except now Kurenai was left with the knowledge that Hoshigaki Kisame hadn't kidnapped her, no, he was a father who tried to keep her safe when the enemy came swooping down from above.

A hand came up to unconsciously brush against her stomach. She'd drink something stronger than tea if she could.

"I know it's a lot, sensei," she said. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Kurenai said, eyes softening further when the teen hunched her shoulders a bit and turned her eyes away.

"I know it's not."

"Sakura—"

"This isn't something you can just forgive me for. None of you." Sakura clenched her jaw. "I was young when I was taught about the Tailed Beasts, their last known locations, their assumed hosts. I'd known about the Kyuubi before I knew of the laws that forbid speaking of it."

(If it weren't for her, the first stone would have never been cast.)

"And how is that your fault if you couldn't have known?"

"I have been, am, and always will be Akatsuki's." She was sagged and defeated, a pillar crumbling, a foundation cracked. "If they don't do good, how could I?"

A couple moments passed and then she straightened in her seat, letting go a deep breath as she wiped the remnants of tears off her cheeks. Kiba opened his mouth and closed it the next second, pursing his lips and tugging the prosthesis toward himself to no doubt poke around the seals he etched in when Kankuro first gave it to her. Shino turned his head slightly to the side, eyes still dead ahead, and Kurenai knew this conversation was over.

Her kids have always had this sort of cohesion, and maybe now it was easier to see where they'd been melted down and stitched back together. Secrets, sabotage, prisons, prices—sometimes it was hard to see where one of them started and another one of them ended. Kurenai knew this couldn't be good for them; they were one person split into three and a half bodies because the world failed them and they had no one else to rely on but themselves.

"Tuesday and Wednesday evenings I'm required to report to Leader-sama. All my other responsibilities are whatever Konan-san deems fit," Sakura said.

"What is it you've been doing these past few days?" Shino asked as he knocked his knuckles against hers. "Granted, we've yet to venture away from the west side of the village, but we haven't heard anything about you."

She shifted. "Konan-san is... a very public figure in Ame. She has the final say in legislative processes, leads the council, works on events like ceremonies, festivals, and village-wide celebrations."

"A Kage all but in name."

"Someone has to do it, and Leader-sama tends to keep to the Pillar." She tried not to think about the burn of fresh piercings in her right ear, but the chakra that hummed through was heavy and hard to ignore. "But I've been sorting through the non-classified paperwork for the council, attending meetings with Konan-san, accompanying her on public visits, and with the spare time I was given I spent re-familiarizing myself with the layout of the village. I'll make a detailed map for you all to memorize and burn."

"Alright. In the meantime, I will apply for a position at the hospital," Shino said, much to Sakura's quiet dismay. Her brow furrowed just so and she knew her team couldn't just wallow around with the rain over their heads, but the thought of the people she loved working under the people that raised her didn't sit very well in her chest. "Why? I may as well learn new skills and build upon my current ones; perhaps here I won't be spurned for practices that may be the deciding factor of a life saved or lost."

Kiba perked up, wood and metal fingers in his hands. "Is there a Seals Division I can apply to? 'Cause I wanna see if they're gonna reject me or if Konoha was just tryna piss me off."

"There's a Division here, but there's not a lot of traffic. You're better off learning from Leader-sama's personal library," she sighed, relenting, and he leaned forward to bump into her, which made her bump into Shino, who grunted and tossed a stink eye to the side. Kurenai's lips quirked. "You're supplementary to my RA designation now. That grants you access to all their texts forbidden to the public."

Akamaru whuffed and stretched, his huge bulk poking out both sides of the dining table.

And Kurenai?

She hated to admit it, but she was the most out of her depth here. Konoha had been her blood and bones for all her life, and she wasn't that young anymore. She was a missing-nin of a village she used to love; a rogue, a criminal, a traitor.

But for her kids, she thought as she drew a feather-light touch over her stomach and gazed softly at the ones sitting across from her, the title was only a lesser burden.

"You have some options too, sensei," Sakura mentioned. "Though I think for the time being it's best that if you choose to continue as an active force, it should be something within the village."

"Right," Kurenai said. No doubt word had already circulated throughout the other villages and cities within Fire Country, and no doubt its allies also had some inkling to the newest updates to Fire's Bingo Book. It was, after all, so rarely that defectors came from Konoha. "I understand."

"I'll get some documents for you," Sakura offered, the thread of apology still clear in her eyes. "But I should show you all around the village first. It'll give you a better idea of the layout when I draw you the map." At the murmured agreement that flooded the room, she stood. "Okay. I brought cloaks better suited for our stay—let me get them, and we can leave."

She swept out of the room with little else as the dining table started to lose its occupants, the prosthesis left in pieces on the table.

:: ::

Sato Akemi had a crease in her brow as she wiped down the display case when someone stepped into her shop. She turned to give a half-hearted greeting, but stopped short when none other than Umino Iruka stepped in.

Akemi's heard. Of course she'd heard—her number one customer, who'd been lost somewhere he couldn't tell civilians and non-actives, had suddenly gone rogue, his and his team's faces plastered in warning articles with the words WANTED: ALIVE PREFERRED, DEAD TAKEN tacked onto the ends of their names. She'd seen the news after shinobi had come to question her; the Investigations Unit, she could see from the maple leaf insignia stitched into the collars of their flak jackets.

Inuzuka Kiba, implicated in murder and assault charges of his fellow shinobi. She couldn't believe it.

Ever since he first stepped into her shop as a green-nosed genin, she'd been charmed by his wide grins and explosive passion about the sealing arts. Before he went MIA he came into the shop religiously, Tuesday and Friday mornings, and after that almost year and a half he'd been gone he'd limited those visits to Wednesdays before closing, a darker glint in his eyes when they talked shop with Akamaru by the window on guard. Waiting. Watching.

Maybe something had always been wrong. She just didn't think anything of it because he was, well, Kiba. The rowdy second heir of the Inuzuka clan.

She offered a kind smile when Iruka stepped up to the counter. She didn't comment on his pallor or the bags under his eyes or the white plastic band that was still around his wrist.

"Sensei," she greeted softly. "What can I do for you today?"

"Just thought I'd stop by and see your new inventory," he tried to smile. It was a weak excuse at best, but she wasn't cruel to call him out on it.

The day she lost her daughter still ran through her sometimes, like a chronic pain. Losing a kid was losing part of your own heart—you carry them in your arms, tuck them in bed, love them and watch them grow until you can't do those first two things anymore while you'll always love them—should always love them.

Your kids were never supposed to die before you, but if they do, but if you lose them... it'll always kill you.

Maybe it wasn't quite like that between him and Kiba, and yet...

"We have new ink compositions that came in this morning," Akemi said as she moved over to the back drawers to check her shipment slips. "There was a compound some Konoha scientists found in Kumo seal paper remains brought in from a mission a few months back, and the preliminary tests from Materials Development were promising enough for production."

He winced at the mention of Kumo but moved to study the seal paper spread anyways, carefully reading through the descriptions that came with each one and channeling a bit of chakra through each to test their reactions. Normally he'd be more than interested—ecstatic, even—at the prospect of new types of seals he could develop, but.

But if Kiba were here, he'd be just as excited, poring over the possibilities as his mouth ran with the seemingly endless ideas pinging around in that head. But his absence left a cold feeling in his side and Iruka took a small step away from the counter.

"Not interested in any wares today, I take it?" she prodded softly.

"I'm sorry, Sato-san," Iruka sighed. His whole upper body slumped and he rubbed a hand over his face. "It's not your fault, it's just..." He sighed again, and then, quietly, "Have you heard?"

Akemi channeled a smudge of chakra to a finger pad and ran it along the seal tag stuck to the underside of the counter top. From there, the several other tags hidden between shelves or under the first layer of wallpaper activated and locked down the shop. The small doodle on the corner of the sign on the door flickered briefly as the letters O-P-E-N shuttered to C-L-O-S-E-D.

She may not be a shinobi, but she did sell shinobi products and she did know a thing or two about the things she sold. She'd be a fool not to. It was easy enough to slip under the radar as a civilian, with the usual disconnect that came with the two populations. Shinobi always tended to look down on civilians even if they didn't mean to, and civilians always remembered that no matter how young or naive or kind a shinobi could be, they would always win.

(But that wasn't a discussion for now, just another truth to be skimmed over.)

"I don't know how much I believe it, to be honest," she admitted as she re-gathered the seal papers. Iruka's eyes rose to the joint between the wall and the ceiling, tilting his head almost appraisingly. "Even with how much he's changed..." She stashed the papers back in the drawer she pulled them out from. "Looking back, it almost seems too obvious that something was eating him away. I might not have known where he'd been or what he's done, but I know he's good. If you pardon my assumption," she added quickly, "I know he attacked you and you almost—"

"It's alright," he interrupted, waving it off. "I would've had a hard time believing any of it if I wasn't the one he—" He stopped, shaking his head slightly as he swallowed. "It's a lot to think about. And if I'm being honest, I'm... I'm still trying to convince myself that he's really gone."

Sensei, like many other active shinobi, was still young, but his exhaustion wore him and it broke her heart.

A sudden thought struck her head as her attention shifted to what she kept stored in the backroom. With a murmured one moment, she brushed past the curtained doorway behind the counter and approached the ink-ridden crate tucked along with the rest of the store's stock. She ran through the unlocking mechanism and popped the lid; inside were several scrolls all of different makes from all different makers, and she reached for the one hidden in the middle.

It was a fairly simple scroll an inch thick and two hands length with a dark red tassel dangling from each end. The paper was cream-colored and unblemished and well, it ought to be. This paper was of her own supply, and she would rather give up her shop than sell less-than-quality products. But the one thing that truly held this particular scroll aside from the rest was the tag that sealed it shut. It wasn't a sequence or a matrix or a lock or layered genius, but a picture.

One single picture of a white conch shell that coiled to the right.

She headed back to the counter where Iruka waited patiently, curiously, tiredly and she handed him the scroll.

He hesitated for a moment before reaching out to take it. "Is this another inventory...?"

"It was Kiba's," Akemi said, and everything about him froze. Then his head bent and he started to search every part of the scroll, and the longer he stared at the conch the paler he got. Every seals master had their hallmarks and quirks, and the shell could've only been drawn in Kiba's hand and no one else's. "A few weeks ago he and Akamaru came in just like every other Wednesday, and he always runs out of ink and not paper, or paper and not ink. It was an ink day, I think, so I had my best compositions prepared for him."

She brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear.

"He came in wild around the eyes, but I didn't think much of it. After coming back from that year and a half of being wherever he was, I knew he'd changed. Or maybe he grew up? I don't know, but there was something else about him that felt... heavier." She watched his fingers tightened around the scroll. "But then he handed me this, told me it was important that if anything were to happen, I should open it or find someone to open it if I couldn't. Paranoia's as common as breathing out there, so I figured I'd keep it safe for him until he swung back on another Wednesday and asked for it back." Her gaze lowered. "Then he defected, and every day since then I've tried everything to crack that scroll, but it's unlike anything I've seen before." She chuckled. "That little brat. He's been holding out on me."

Iruka's lips pulled up in the smallest of smiles, but it was the most genuine one she'd seen since he'd come in. "Maybe a bit."

"I haven't got a clue about it, but it must mean more than anything if he's developed a brand new seal type to hide whatever's in there." She thought of her little Aki. "It's something he left behind, sensei, and you might be the only person in Konoha who knew him well enough to figure out why this was so important that he couldn't take it with him."

He looked back up, still so utterly beaten and drained, but with a renewed glint in his eyes. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"Good," she sighed, a weight lifted off her weary shoulders.

Because how could Konoha bear to lose more of her children?

:: ::

He didn't expect to get used to it with how short of a time they'd been here, but Shino couldn't stave off the feeling of displacement and wrongness that dug into his back as he returned to the brightest, greenest building in the village.

The hospital was fairly bustling with the quiet sway of nurses in the halls and the occasional person lingering in the lounge. As a criminal sanctuary, he supposed there wouldn't be many public appearances, but as a refugee safe-haven, there were quite a few civilians and low-ranking shinobi milling atop the dark tiles.

"Have you returned to visit four-twenty-nine, Aburame-san?" a receptionist questioned without a single glance upward, and Shino drifted to the counter with an uneasy rigidity to his shoulders and the lightest of buzzes under his skin. "You may enter the hall towards his room as long as you sign the visitation chart as you come and go."

"Yes. Thank you." Days. He'd been here for days. With the gravity of Tenshi-sama's announcement of another Hoshigaki, the receptionist must've spread the word like a lit match creeping down to scorch fingertips. He hadn't ventured farther into the village because he'd been too focused on Sakura's absence and Kiba's concerns and the fact that the Akatsuki...

The Akatsuki. Anything about them was like a shadow in Konoha and lived as a whispered phrase here and there. No one really knew about them, they were never explicitly warned of in documents or mission assignments, and the Hokage would dismiss any inquiry of the topic with a sneer and the order to keep the name out of your goddamn mouths.

Shino still didn't know what being an Akatsuki entailed, nor did he know their dreams or ambitions. What he did know, though, was that they scared Sakura enough to break and bow her head.

(She left again after showing them around the village because there were some things to do, and no, she wasn't lying, and yes, it was something she had to do and she promised it wasn't going to get her killed. But even then as they watched her depart they wondered which was heavier, the rain or their chests.)

"But before I pay my visit, I came to inquire about any available positions at the hospital. Why? I seek to apply and approve upon my medical skills," he said. The receptionist slowly lifted her head, wrinkled around her mouth and a small scar down one eye that blew her pupil milky white.

"You have trained as a med-nin in Konoha?"

"I refined most of my skill in Kumo."

A brow raised and she leaned forward. "We have note of the insect technique you used to sustain four-twenty-nine until he could receive off-field medical care. On that alone, you may be granted a trial period without prerequisite." She pulled out a notebook from her stacked files and papers and began to write. "Shall I book an appointment with the committee?"

How could this be so easy?

Shino nodded once. "Yes, please. If you would."

She wrote down a few lines—half in a dialect he should start learning soon—before glancing up at him with the scrutiny of a seasoned shinobi, probably retired, at least half-inactive. Carefully, he wound some of his kikai along his arms beneath the sleeves of his jacket the longer she stared, and right as he catalogued the quickest movements to dodge any attacks from any angle at this particular spot of the hospital lobby, the receptionist dropped a stack of documents into the 'out' pile on her desk.

"Your first weeks in Amegakure will be confusing," she said, casual but firm. "We are not the most traditional of villages and those immigrating, especially from the shinobi-dense populations, take an adjustment period to get used to their surroundings. Do you know the type of people who come here, Aburame-san?"

He slowly shook his head.

"Survivors. People who, despite the circumstances that chased them off from their homes and their families and their fondest memories if they have any, decided that they want a part in making their own futures." She laced her fingers together and set them atop her papers. "It always rains here in this vibrant village, many of us think that it is what it takes to wash away everything we run from." The already raised brow raised a tad higher. "And you are running, are you not?"

"... For the time being," Shino allowed. "Why? Because Konoha made their mistake."

And maybe this receptionist had sprouted from the same branch as them, because when she did smile, it was slight and full of honest empathy. "They all do, and they will never apologize for it no matter how many die." She tipped her head. "And for everything that Amegakure is, she welcomed all with open arms."

His forehead wrinkled and moved his gaze to the clean, disinfectant-smelling counter space. Konoha certainly preached their openness and he was now more than aware about how countless others regarded them as 'soft,' but he would have to admit to himself that Ame shared no such pretenses. They were cold and colorful and neutral, and they were giving him a chance.

"Here," the receptionist said, sliding a few forms across the counter. "I will need to document some of your basic information such as age, blood type, address of your current residence, and ID number." Her voice lowered. "If you were unaware, you are supplementary to RA-zero-zero-eight. The highest designation before Kami-sama and Tenshi-sama themselves."

Right. If the Akatsuki were going to have any standing here, they were going to be untouchable.

Half the kikai that rest atop his skin he sent back into his body, and the remaining half he kept on low guard. He plucked a pen from the little metal cup at the corner of the counter and started to fill in the blanks.

In Kumo, the hospitals were loud and always felt like the AC was turned down low, but never low enough. Break room chatter floated into the halls, nurses greeted each other with fist bumps and handshakes as they passed one another, medics yelled at each other from down the halls whether it be a teasing quip or a salute or an order—it was busy. Always. And maybe Shino fell a little bit in love with the chaos.

Here there were only soft footfalls and an entire staff that knew what it meant for a village to hate you.

He filled out the papers quickly.

:: ::

Aoba sat on a bench on the street where Shino killed his cousin.

Maybe it was a little morbid but he hadn't had trouble eating like the last time Shino disappeared, which was a plus, but comparing those two incidents was like comparing lightning and earth where the death of an Aburame was like a striking bolt against Konoha's shinobi foundation.

The noble clans were in an uproar.

Aburame, Akimichi, Hyuuga, Uchiha; four clans total, technically three clans now after the decimation of the Uchiha, and since then there had always been a precarious understanding between the remaining nobles. Something on that scale couldn't be allowed to happen again no matter how troubled in-fighting could become or how unhappy their members could grow. From there, clan children were raised with the understanding that they needed to maintain appearances and never stray from blood.

There hadn't even been an inkling of conflict that could go too far too fast.

Then the heir of the Aburame Clan murdered another member of his own without even trying to hide it, and left nothing but devastation.

Aoba's seen a string of Akimichi and Hyuuga going in and out of the Aburame Complex for the past several days and there had been a collection of Aburame and Inuzuka lingering around the Hokage Tower, yet no one had said anything about anyone since the initial announcement that four Konoha shinobi have defected at the same time for treason.

He sighed.

The higher-ups had done their best to keep the information in its most basic form, citing Team Eight's crimes as succinctly as possible before refusing to provide any other statements. Suna would make their inquiries eventually and it was only a matter of time before both the Aburame and the Inuzuka made enough noise about tracking down and hauling back their missing members. Regardless if they were going to be brought back to re-integrate or to imprison, there were clan secrets at stake that they couldn't afford to lose.

Maybe it wasn't on quite the same level as Uchiha Itachi and the sharingan or Kirigakure's acquisition of a byakugan, but there was the precedent of Konoha techniques falling into the wrong hands.

Aoba pushed up his glasses with a hand and rubbed his eyes.

"Shino," he whispered. "What have you done?"

He couldn't bring himself to be angry or betrayed like all the other shinobi that riot against those who turned their backs on the Will of the Fire, not when the only thing that welled up in him was worry, worry, worry. He was worried when he started hearing rumors about Shino's habitual disobedience at the hospital, when he saw all the scars running up Shino's arms, when Shibi-sama once approached him to ask about his son because he hadn't seen him in person for weeks.

The way that Shino had been changing, especially after coming back from Kumo, it was actually a lot like the way he'd seen Sakura grow up over the years. He didn't know what she was like before taking her from that warehouse he found her in, but she'd always been a bit of an anti-social bookworm. She was always planning and thinking and considering her next move even if her opposition had yet to make theirs, which—

He blinked.

Which would make no sense to why she panicked. That had to be the panic he saw before he got knocked out, right? She picked Shino up before shouting at him to stop and Aoba, don't—!

Shino was scared. Sakura was frantic. He hadn't seen Kiba that day, but he imagined that he can't have been too far off from his teammates.

Still, whatever plan unraveled that day didn't make any sense, not when that team didn't have any enemies in the village. Sure they were off-putting at times and others didn't tend to associate with them outside of assignments, as depressing as that sounded, but he couldn't think of anything they'd done that warranted that type of attack. Their mission record was flawless, and besides the whole behavior-problem thing Shino had going on and Kiba's constant rejection for the Seals Division, what reason did they have to do what they did?

Killing a person in the middle of a street didn't just happen; killing a reclusive shinobi no one saw much of didn't quite fit into the puzzle either.

He knew Shino. He knew Sakura.

At least, he hoped he knew them.

Aoba's gaze traced the length of the street, since cleaned of all traces of the murder spilt upon it.

He bit his lip as one of his legs started to bounce, his gaze trailing towards the direction of the Aburame Complex.

But what if there was more he just wasn't seeing?

:: ::

When the girl was young and roamed the cold halls of the Divine's Pillar, her feet weren't quiet and she had yet to learn to mask her chakra so there would always be this fresh blip in this fortified tower, flitting from Pein's personal library to Pein's office to wherever Konan just happened to be at the moment. It made her easy to track, easy to predict, easy to keep an eye on during the hours he spent balancing books and writing up financial reports.

Then she died. Just one less concern.

Kakuzu's gaze tipped up to the Amegakure skyline as he and Hidan stride past the guards with nothing more than a flare of their chakra and a flash of their rings. Hidan was complaining about something again, about what he'd tuned out before they even reached Storm's border, and he almost didn't notice when that stream of blabber tapered off and they stopped by a cluster of empty benches beneath a black gazebo.

Rain resounded each time a drop pinged the metal overhead.

Pitter-pat, pitter-pat, pitter-pat.

"So?"

He turned toward his partner and saw the quiet suspicion on his face. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me, asshole. You've been thinkin' since we left that filthy fucking bounty station." Hidan raised a finger to point accusingly, and he very nearly brought it upon himself to cut it off. "Are you gonna spill, or is it another one of those things that you've shoved so far up your ass that I have to wait for you to deal with?"

"Stay out of my business, or I'll kill you."

"Like you ever could, dipshit."

Magenta eyes rolled—Kakuzu loathed it when he did that—and he raised a pale hand to adjust the conical hat atop his head, fingers brushing against white tassels and the red rosary beads that hung from its edges. He angled his body North towards the training grounds and the small, hidden temple he'd made for himself a few years ago when he'd first arrived.

"Whatever," Hidan dismissed with a careless flap of his head. "Just figure it the fuck out before we leave for our next mission, seriously."

And he sauntered out from under the gazebo and into the rain. Kakuzu watched him leave, half annoyed at having been read well enough, though he figured that having an unkillable partner proficient at being both an imbecile and an irritating pest was enough of a price to pay to not have a new replacement every handful of months. Still, the moron was lucky to have left before he'd lost his temper on his already frayed nerves as he went back to considering the new pages in his Bingo Book.

But just before Hidan disappeared from his line of sight, someone walked in the opposite direction, toward Kakuzu, nearly brushing shoulders with Hidan himself but kept pace without breaking their stride.

Ah.

That answered one question.

She wears a deep gray cloak, hoodless and buckled close to the neck to keep the rain from soaking past the collar bone. On her shoulders were rainbow holographic patches in the shape of moose antlers, one on each side, and with each step she took a flash of black sandals peeked out to the rain. The closer she got, the more apparent just how much time passed by that the little girl who roamed wasn't so little anymore, that her feet were silent, that her chakra was suppressed by highly advanced control.

Hoshigaki Sakura stepped under the gazebo and stopped a courteous distance away. She was tall enough that they quite literally saw eye to eye.

Pitter-pat, pitter-pat, pitter-pat.

"There's only a base two million to your name," he said in lieu of a greeting. The soaked hair that hadn't been cropped close to her head stuck to the sides of her face, but even then it didn't manage to hide the ragged scars that crawled up the right side of her neck and licked her jaw. "It's a pathetic amount for your projected progress and skill-set; has your worth been underestimated, or are you as insignificant as they've declared?"

Her lips twitched slightly and a small bubbling of mirth gathered around her eyes before it quickly dissipated. "Underestimated," she answered, and he heard echoes of Konan in her voice. "In my last meeting with Leader-sama, he read me the list of crimes attached to our names: two counts of assault, attempted murder of Konoha chuunin, two counts of first degree murder, one count of theft of the confidential level. Treason."

He ran the numbers though his head. Assuming the counts of assault were against more shinobi, he'd bump it up half a million. Attempted murder's another half. The first degree murders a little trickier with the factors the victims bring in, like strength, standing, if they already had Bingo Book entries as the general rule for offing other entries was that the bounty would be cut in half, divided by three, and a third of the cost would be added to the killer's own bounty. Assuming a generous ten million total for both victims and rounding up, that was two million more. Confidential-level theft, one million in the least but could multiply exponentially depending on the content of the stolen item. 'Treason' was the encompassing word, but the add-on itself added an extra million for the flair.

"That would make you seven million, at the very least," he said. "Chuunin rank does you no favors, but when word spreads that Kisame's your father, that adds twenty-three million."

Kisame was a Top Twenty with the 200 million cap. Applying the same rules as one Bingo book entry disposing of another was probably the best estimation for blood relation, but docking it down an extra ten million made it so it wasn't too absurd.

Sakura glanced at the streets, and he noted the weapon grip poking out from her back. "Konoha didn't know, but I came upon possession of Kubikiribocho as a genin. It adds five million."

"Akatsuki association would add five more." He stared at her face and at the achingly familiar tattoo across her cheekbone, and kept staring until it clicked. "Blatant affiliation with the jinchuuriki of the Hachibi is another five."

Her gaze shot back to him.

Kakuzu wasn't the type of person to claim to know everything, but in order to accurately estimate costs that ranged from missions to bounties to things as mundane as groceries required a wide berth of knowledge. Seafood imported from the Water Country islands always carried a brand under the gills to refute false claims, face paint made in Wind Country could corrode a shinobi's visage upon their death and thus could nullify the facial recognition required at bounty stations, Lightning Country shinobi displayed their apprenticeships through matching tattoos.

"It was during my imprisonment in Kumo," she started, and he could unconsciously feel the weight of the ink on his own arms, "that I learned under him."

He was certainly curious about why she was captured, and she must have spent a long time on Kumo soil to get picked up as a student by one of the most infamous shinobi—a tailed beast container no less—but he chose the things he knew with a critical eye. He'd been alive for a long time and he'd seen and done far more than any person needed to, and he could see that these past eight years had left her a collection of story pickings. There was Konoha and Kumo and the fact that she wasn't dead to begin with, but if there was one thing he learned besides the cold truth of money, it was that there wasn't any use in getting caught up in the past. It changed for no one, and the only thing that mattered now was what she was capable of and what she could do with it for the foreseeable future.

"Forty-five million," Kakuzu corrected. "Better."

He couldn't shake the familiarity he felt, the two of them standing there in the rain. Dutiful little Sakura who always listened and never looked like she'd become anything, still with that mangled ear she suffered in his company. But all children were soft, he supposed, and Kisame loved her too much to raise her to be like them.

"I was also the one who killed Sasori-san."

He regarded her again with the shortest uptick of his brow. Her blank expression never wavered.

"The official story was that Chiyo-sama was able to hold off her grandson with the aid of an unnamed Konoha shinobi. I destroyed his heart with his own puppets." She sounded respectful but aloof, attentive but detached. There was an obvious care in bringing up his dead associate, but he also had the feeling that she would kill him again if there would ever be a time for it. "You've known him a long time. I figured you would've wanted to hear the truth."

"He went out the same way we all will, inevitably. You won, he lost, another thirty-three million should be added." He frowned behind his mask. "What a waste. You could have nearly doubled your bounty should you have been accredited where credit is due."

Her lips quirked again. "You flatter me, Kakuzu-san."

Cold, indifferent, a touch of humor in apathy.

It was disconcerting to see yourself in someone that should've taken nothing from you.

(The thought barely ran through his head before he snapped its neck and cast it out.)

This time it was him that guided his eyes toward the streets, as bright and vivid as they always were drowned in rainwater.

It was a shame, really. How all of Kisame's efforts made no difference when Sakura turned out just like them anyway.

Pitter-pat, pitter-pat, pitter-pat.

:: ::

The first thing Kiba wanted to do when he stepped into the Divine's library was to start walking through every single aisle to read every single book title at least once, if there was no title he'd pull out the book and skim the first few pages. It would take weeks—months if he didn't hole himself here for hours on end, but he was finally in a restricted section he didn't have to sneak into and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

"The seal section is near the back, right before finances," Akamaru informed as he padded up the widest walkway space in the middle of the library. "There are also entire sections on the main chakra natures and combination releases."

"All of us have an Earth nature, so that wouldn't be too bad of a side project ta' get into." Kiba weighed his options for a moment before spinning right and starting from the very end of the first length of shelves closest to the door. He'd work his way down the line and wind through all the books like a snake. Or, at least until the itch to get his hands on the available seal texts got him scratching too much. "Shino's secondary's Fire and Sakura's Water, right? Gives me more wiggle room t'work with, 'specially since I figured out ink implementation against a nature background. Any ideas 'bout what I could do with it, though?"

"Chakra storage?"

"Wouldn't need the nature specification." A finger traced over a title-less book and he pulled it out to open the cover. "Plus, ain't that already the Godaime's thing?"

"It doesn't mean it can't be altered."

"Yeah, I'd rather not get into that territory. Suppressors and silencers are gonna be my specialty, and I'm gonna make it work even if it kills me."

Akamaru's head popped around the other end of the row, jaw open and a retort on his tongue, but he froze. Then very, very slowly, dipped his front close to the ground and waited.

Unease rippled across Kiba's shoulders. Smell, touch, sound—in the split second he extended his senses he felt nothing, noticed nothing, couldn't pinpoint anyone or anything in the room with them besides the accumulation of books stored on their dust-free shelves. When he turned it was with the same slowness as his partner, so filled with dread that he didn't think anything would surprise him.

He took in the bars that pierced the newcomer's face, the unhealthy pale of skin, the saturated orange hair, the high collared cloak, the Amegakure hitai-ate with a defined slash through the center.

Ringed purple eyes stared him down.

"Inuzuka Kiba." They flicked briefly over his shoulder. "Akamaru." They settled back on the teen. "I trust you've been indulging well in what this library has to offer?"

Kiba's knuckles grew white as he clutched at the book. It wasn't that hard to piece together just who this was, not when the statues all around the Pillar had the same eyes and the bars in his skin looked just like the ones Sakura came back with, her ear bloodied and raw. This wasn't a physically imposing man nor was he trying to be one, and he hadn't even been able to tell that someone was standing directly behind him until he'd seen it for himself. But the moment they met eye to eye, there was this pressure against his head he couldn't shake off and a strain in his muscles that wanted him to sink.

Whenever Sakura mentioned him, terror rattled in her throat.

He was starting to see why.

"I, uh—I just got here, sir. I was going to spend the next couple of weeks cataloguing everything before researching."

"Yes, your seals," The Leader mentioned, ignoring the way Kiba's eyes widen. "I overheard. Is Seals Master your aim?"

"So-Something like that, yeah."

"Seals are a complicated branch of jutsu. They require creativity, innovation, a certain ingenuity to prevent your enemies from dissecting your work and leaving the pieces out to fizzle and burn." The overhead lights glinted off each metal bar through his nose bridge and one half of his snake bites. There were even more pieces in his ears, one, two, three, four, five, six on each outer shell. "You must be very talented."

"I..." Kiba swallowed, his gut flopping restlessly. "I'm good, but I'm getting better. Sir."

The Leader hummed shortly before raising an arm. And Kiba, rooted to the floor and lead in his bones, held himself taut as a hand brushed past his face just enough that they didn't touch and claimed a spine on the shelf right by his head. In the short breeze, he strained to catch the near imperceptible scent of something chemical.

He pulled his arm back, red-painted nails stark against the navy cover of his chosen book.

"Your progress will be noted," the man said. "But otherwise, feel free to peruse any text that draws your interest. Knowledge is meant to be shared, after all."

Without much else, he strode past Kiba and Akamaru and straight out of the library. It was another moment before the pressure against his head eased and all the weight siphoned out of his limbs as he slumped onto the ground. A damp nose pressed against the back of his neck and he tossed a hand back to anchor his fingers into white fur.

:: ::

"Kotetsu?"

Kotetsu's head jerked up and there, silhouetted by the sun, was one Uzumaki Naruto devoid of the usual bounce in his step with a nervous frown in place of the grin he usually wore. Traffic at the gates was slow and Izumo had just left to make a delivery for Tsunade-sama and aside from the passing caw and the gnats bothering patches of grass, no one else was around.

"Oh, hey. What's up?"

Naruto bit his lip and thought for a bit before he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a white envelope that he handed over with the utmost of care. When Kotetsu peered closer, he saw his name written on the back.

He blanched. "Is that—?"

"Yeah." Naruto's expression wobbled and his eyes began to shine. "Yeah, it's from her. She, uh, I've been her person for this for a while and 'cause she's gone—" His voice cracked— "I gotta do my job. I think it'll be a while before I can bring her back, so."

An overwhelming wave of grief and pity slammed into his chest. He wanted to be the one to tell this kid that he couldn't think like this, that he couldn't hold on to this same hope he held out for Sasuke because—

Kotetsu took the envelope and ran a thumb over dried ink.

(Because he didn't want to hope, too.)

"Thanks."

Naruto gave a jerky nod before he turned around to head towards wherever he was going before making this detour. As he walked away, a cherry blossom keychain swung from his hip pouch.

:: ::

And here we end with amazing fanart by 

joyful.otters on instagram!

and clowncunt on tumblr!

And we end with a new story announcement!

Snow Storms & Snake Wine

Four strangers get trapped in a cabin, and it's the start of something beautiful.

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Commissioned Cover by frostmarris on tumblr

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BETA: OfCloves

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Out Now. 

Also available on Archive of Our Own and fanfiction.net