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Chapter Text

Much to Sakura’s relief, neither Yuki nor Yoshiro denied the ‘tour’ of Oto Karin insisted on taking them on. The opportunity to walk around and see the Village before she was to officially become its leader helped settle her nerves, and it actually proved to be very informative, as well as reassuring.

Sakura was also more than pleased to find that, despite who her predecessor had been, the foundations for most of her plans for Oto’s future were already in place.

Oto, for all that its architecture was vastly different to Konoha’s, more like the stone of Ame or Kumo than the wood she was used to or the sandstone of Suna, was clearly inspired by Orochimaru’s experience in Leaf, albeit improved. The Village was built with a circular layout, and the main streets were paved, rather than dirt-track.

It was, however, considerably smaller than all of the other Great Nations, so the main library was rather pitiful in comparison to Konoha’s, more of a storage room with scrolls and books than a library.

(Sakura was disappointed but not surprised once she discovered all of the places the seal on her wrist gave her access to and found Orochimaru’s personal collection which was about triple that size.)

In the centre of the city was the – surprisingly large, considering the size of the Village itself – central market square, and in the centre of the square was the administrative building, the top floor of which was Orochimaru’s, and soon to be her, office.  

The biggest surprise was the large, expensive-looking science clinic Karin led them to. At first, Sakura was impressed; it was without a doubt bigger and better equipped than Konoha’s R&D office. Then, she was horrified, because as Karin led them inside, they quickly found out that the clinic was staffed almost entirely by shinobi who looked like monsters.

Some had scales growing on random parts of their bodies, others extra limbs, or tails or teeth, and they were all exuding the same malevolent chakra Sasuke had in the Forest of Death before he’d passed out. Yoshiro shuddered where he stood next to her, magenta eyes wide and scared, and Sakura reached out and pulled the boy to her side, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and squeezing tightly.

“The failed experiments.” Karin had murmured as they stood outside one of the labs, a sad, regretful glint passing through her eyes when they fell on an orange-haired young man without any obvious signs of the seal, but who nonetheless towered almost a head over the others.

“Orochimaru had freed the subjects of his Cursed Seal experiments when his own seal had been removed, but he hadn’t found a way to remove the seal itself. They’ve been trying to find a cure since.” She added bitterly, then schooled her expression to that neutral, sassy mask Sakura had seen on her before and hastened to inform them that the medical aspect of the clinic was also rather lacking.

Sakura mentally promised herself, and the remaining victims of Orochimaru’s ambition, that she would find a way to fix the seal. She’d removed Anko’s Cursed Seal, and she’d had no idea what she was really dealing with then. Here, she had access to the people who’d been living with and – if Karin was to be believed – researching the condition for years.

She would succeed. She had to.

All in all, barring the horror of the labs, the more Sakura walked through the Village, the more confident she felt about her future in Otogakure, and the more her plans felt feasible.

Not guaranteed yet, but more like concrete plans rather than the daydreams she’d entertained when she was still in Konoha, with only Karin’s letters to go off.

Her company also helped. Yuki was a constant, comforting presence at her side, and appeared thoughtful but optimistic as they made their way through Oto. He kept up a stream of light-hearted banter which Sakura reciprocated without a second’s thought, though he also gave more serious insights whenever she turned to him for counsel, and Sakura felt some of her stress wane with every sarcastic comment traded between them. Yoshiro, too, stuck to her side like glue after the labs, and took in his soon-to-be new home with wide-eyed curiosity and cautious enthusiasm, and Sakura couldn’t help but smile whenever she glanced at him.

Though, with Yoshiro so close, Sakura would’ve been an idiot not to notice that Oto was missing any form of an Academy, or schooling in general, for either civilian or shinobi children.

When she commented on the absence out-loud, Karin sent her a flat, somewhat disbelieving look.

“Most of the children who ended up here were either experimented on or ignored until they were old enough to be shinobi or take over civilian trade.” She informed them dryly, shooting Sakura a bitter, self-deprecating smile and something a little more apologetic to Yoshiro, though she looked at him like he was an explosive tag rather than a child. “Schooling wasn’t a worthwhile investment in Orochimaru’s eyes before the seal, and after it just wasn’t a priority.”

Sakura winced, then frowned, wondering how she’d go about fixing that. Because Karin had made it clear in her letters, and she’d have had to have been blind not to notice herself even after a single trip around the city, that children made up a good third of what remained of Otogakure’s civilian population.

“What’s your hierarchy system like here?” Yuki asked from Sakura’s other side, his eyes flickering over the shinobi out in the street with them, most either ignoring their presence or eyeing them with suspicion or distaste. “Do you have a rank system?”

“Yes and no.” Karin explained, turning into one of the side streets and absently pointing out the blacksmith and leatherworker shops. “There is a rank system, but, for obvious reasons, there aren’t any Exams as such. Mostly, it’s Kazuya-san who decides whether someone is ready for a ‘promotion’ – he’s the only one who ever got away with questioning Orochimaru, so people respect him. Plus, he’s probably older than the Village system itself, so it makes sense.”

“Kazuya-san?” Sakura echoed, thinking fast and sharing a look with Yuki. “Does that mean he more or less knows everyone’s skillset?”

“I suppose so.” Karin replied with a raised eyebrow, one which only rose higher at Sakura’s next words.

“I’d like to talk to him. Think you could arrange that?”

Karin was hesitant, but promised to do her best, though with the disclaimer that Kazuya would likely make his decision on whether or not he wanted to see her depending on her ‘swearing-in’ speech.

The very swearing-in speech which Karin had insisted on the moment Sakura had confirmed that she was serious about taking over Otogakure.

As the other kunoichi had explained, for shinobi who had been under Orochimaru’s rule, appearances were everything, and Sakura’s first few weeks in Oto would make or break the remainder of her time there.

Which made sense, Sakura knew, but it didn’t make standing in front of the crowd of a little over two hundred people the very next morning – her first proper morning in Otogakure – any less daunting.   

With a fleeting look at Yuki and Yoshiro for courage, she took a deep breath and began her first address of what was to be her Village.

The morning after their arrival in Oto, Yuki, with Yoshiro at his side, watched from a safe distance as Sakura stepped onto the makeshift stage, preparing to address the crowd of sixty-odd shinobi and about hundred civilians, all of whom had gathered to see what their ‘new leader’ had to say.

The previous evening, Karin had seen them off to their accommodation and quickly left them to settle in, a snappy promise to be back bright and early the next morning to prepare Sakura for her speech thrown over her shoulder.

Sakura had spent a few minutes helping Yoshiro unpack the few belongings he’d brought with him, then set about the process of tucking him in.

Neither Yuki nor Yoshiro had expected her to bother with that; Yoshiro was ten years old, and a genin in Kiri, which made him an adult in the eyes of the law. But then Yuki saw the look in the kid’s eyes when Sakura bent down to press a kiss to his forehead, and he understood.

Watching Sakura around Yoshiro occasionally threatened to make Yuki feel more than the absent amusement or schadenfreude he usually allowed himself.

It was obvious that the kid thought the world of Sakura, the light of hero-worship in his eyes not waning even after they arrived in Oto, and Yuki honestly wasn’t sure if it would ever fade. After all, Zabuza’s kid had followed him to death, all for simply giving him a purpose in life. Sakura had already given Yoshiro much more than that, and all without the ‘tool’ dynamic.

Personally, Yuki found the hero-worship hilarious.

For Sakura’s part, she was gentle. Whenever she touched or hugged the boy, she’d do so gently, carefully, as if afraid she’d hurt him if she wasn’t looking, and that, Yuki could understand.

Particularly for the two of them, assassins who’d started way too young and whose moral compass was more of a roulette wheel, the idea of touching someone weakfraildefenseless! without there being pain in the equation, either inflicted or experienced, was sometimes hard to grasp.  

He didn’t get the chance to examine the warm feeling too closely as, the moment Sakura straightened, she made a beeline for him, a familiar, if somewhat worrying expression in her eyes.

She took him by the sleeve and dragged him onto the couch, curling up in his lap much like he’d done to her after the final battle had ended. Then, she’d stilled, and if not for the fact that he could feel her breathe against him, slow but reassuringly regular, Yuki would’ve worried.

They didn’t speak for the first hour, and when the words finally came, they did so slowly, haltingly, but as they did, Yuki got to hear the full extent of Sakura’s thoughts on the legacy she’d been charged with upholding. Not the abridged version Sakura had told him and Anko in the hospital, not the few absentminded thoughts and wonderings she’d voiced on their way to Kiri, but the full, uncensored truth, and all the doubts, fears, questions and hopes that entailed.

When she’d tired herself out and fallen asleep where she lay, he was left in quiet awe of the unassuming young woman in his lap.

He wondered if the Snake had known, when he appointed her his successor, just how much Sakura saw.

But, stood as he is now, with a prime view of both, Sakura, and the crowd, Yuki could admit that, if he was being honest, most faces didn’t look particularly welcoming or optimistic.

More people had come than they had expected or dared hope in the dark of the previous night, but a lot were visibly hostile, while others appeared to be resigned and managing their expectations, and as a result, their faces betrayed little of their thoughts.

There were some murmurs though, when Sakura finally stepped onto the makeshift stage and the crowd got their first proper view of her.

Some of the murmurs came from shinobi who recognised Sakura from her Bingo Book page or the final battle, some from children who were marvelling at her hair, and some from people who scoffed at her very existence. The latter voices were few and far between, not many daring to voice the thoughts even if they shared them, but it didn’t make them any less damaging to Sakura’s potential reception and future as the leader of the remnants of Orochimaru’s social experiment.

It also didn’t help that Sakura had spent most of the pre-dawn hours, after they’d woken up in the middle of the night still tangled up on the sofa, stressing. Stressing over the speech, over how she would be received, over how Yoshiro would be welcomed, and that had been before Yuki had asked what she planned on wearing, at which point she’d whined and finally gone to her proper bed, if only to procrastinate dealing with that thought for a few more hours.

Though, he couldn’t honestly say that the stress hadn’t been worth it, because as she stood now, Sakura was undeniably a shinobi.

She was also, at least to Yuki’s eyes, an homage to all the people who had had a hand in shaping the person she’d become.

She wore a simple grey kimono top, very reminiscent of Yuki’s own hunter-nin garb, thrown over a reinforced lilac vest and charcoal hakama pants from her Konoha uniform, tucked into her steel-toed combat boots.

Her hair was, for once, free from its braid, long and loose over her back much like her predecessor’s, only her fringe held back from her face with the help of Chojuro’s bell-pin, and though Yuki knew the metal was twisted and rusted in some places, its function wasn’t inhibited in the slightest, but that was all secondary to the comfort Sakura drew from the small trinket.

Finally, she’d strapped a naginata to her back, newer and shinier than the one he remembered a still wet-behind-the-ears Konoha chunin wielding back when they’d first met, both ignorant to how influential they’d eventually become in each other’s lives.

Privately, Yuki wondered just how much of Sakura’s get-up was for show, and how much was a private comfort in the face of the unknown.

“People of Otogakure,” She spoke at last, a neutral expression on her face, though the look in her eyes was warm, “thank you for coming.”

A moment’s pause to let the last of the whispers die out, a deep breath to steady her nerves, then she continued. “I am sure you have many questions, both, about myself, and about the future of your Village. Allow me to try and answer some of them.”

Sakura’s gaze swept over the gathered crowd, though whether she was actually seeing it, Yuki couldn’t quite tell.

Despite her anxiety the previous night, to the uninitiated, Sakura looked largely unbothered to be speaking in front of a people she had never met yet had been tasked with leading, though Yuki knew her well enough to spot the few nervous ticks she still retained.

And he was glad for them, because they meant that whatever the Kiri shrink had done had worked, as the presence of nerves proved the absence of ‘Inner’.

“My name is Haruno Sakura.” That had been a cause of stress, too, until Yuki had pointed out that whatever legacy she built herself as the leader of Oto would also affect Shiranui if she kept using his name, and that had been enough for Sakura to make up her mind.

“Up until a fortnight ago, I was a jounin of Konohagakure. As it stands now, I am still a jounin-level kunoichi, but my loyalty, such as it is, belongs to you, and to the Village of Oto.” Yuki bit back a snort. Trust Sakura to find a diplomatic way to say ‘I renounced my Village to become kage’.

“I hope to be able to get to know you all better in the coming weeks, and, hopefully, should you allow it, the coming years, too, so I will keep my introduction brief.” Sakura paused, shooting the crowd an encouraging smile that rang true to Yuki, despite the nervousness he could see hidden beneath the pleasant mask.

“Instead,” Sakura continued, “I would like to talk about Oto; the Village, and you, its people.”

Her expression hardened then, the warm smile fading, in favour of a more serious look, one that Yuki knew meant business. “I was fortunate in earning the position of Ambassador when I was barely a teenager. As such, I was there for the process through which Kiri rose from a war-torn ruin to a nation that can now stand on equal footing with Konoha or Kumo.”

Another intentional pause, letting the crowd process what she was saying.

“I then watched Suna do the same, under the guidance of someone who became kage even younger than I am now. There are patterns, precedents that have been set, that will allow us to guide Otogakure down a similar path. However,” here, the look in Sakura’s eyes turned sympathetic, but unforgiving, “as much as it may displease you to hear it, Otogakure is not on the level that Kiri or Suna had been on before their current prosperity.”

Yuki frowned at the scowls and disgruntled mutters that swept through the crowds, but Sakura merely held up a hand, the expression in her eyes sharper now.

“Allow me to explain. Otogakure cannot be compared to Kiri or Suna from five years ago because Oto is still a young Village. It does not have the advantages that Kiri or Suna had, but due to its youth, it doesn’t have the disadvantages that come with restructuring an established nation, either. The experience of Kiri or Suna is simply not comparable to that of Oto.”

Then, Sakura smiled again, and the sharpness faded from her eyes as she continued.

“However, my experience with those two nations is comparable, and it is transferrable to Otogakure’s situation. I know what Otogakure needs in order to be able to stand on its own two feet, as a nation, not just a collection of nationless individuals. I can help you achieve it, should you allow it, or set you on the right path, at the very least, but I would like to make one thing clear before anything else.”

Yuki wondered just how much the regular reminders that her fate as Oto’s leader was in the hands of the people she was addressing was intentional, and how much it was down to Sakura’s own struggles with consent and autonomy.

Because he couldn’t deny that, looking at the crowd’s reaction, it was helping endear her to the civilians, and the few older-looking shinobi gathered.

Then, Sakura continued, and all thoughts of her linguistic choices were banished at her next words.

“What I need you to know is that I am not my predecessor. I am not Orochimaru. For better or for worse, I do not possess his genius, or his charisma."

At that declaration, Yuki stifled a sigh. 

As always, Sakura either didn't see or chose not to see the effect she had on people. While it couldn't quite be said that the people of Otogakure hung on her every word, as that would be a lie, the clear hostility of some of the crowd when she’d started had turned to quiet mistrust, but at least they were listening now.

Yuki shook his head fondly: 'Don't have his charisma' my ass.

But, luckily, Sakura wasn’t done.

"What I do have are his drive and his ambition. And I am the closest thing he left to a legacy. But I will not be a second Orochimaru, rest assured of that. I am a legacy to all the people who've taught me," Yuki didn't miss the way emerald eyes flashed to him at this part, and he couldn't help but smirk, proud and mischievous, because he knew just what his and Anko’s tutelage had entailed, "just as much as I am a legacy of all the cultures which have shaped me. I don't believe that Konoha's, or Suna’s, or Kiri’s way is the only correct way. Just as I don't believe that a military dictatorship is the best way to lead a country."

There were more murmurs now, some from people who weren't sure what they were hearing as well as those who seemed unable to believe what they were hearing. 

"So I'll be counting on you, the people of Otogakure, to tell me what you need. I have my own plans, because, before anything else, I am a paper ninja, and all that entails.” Sakura took a deep breath, and Yuki couldn’t help but compare the first instance where Sakura had used the term about herself when talking to him, to now.

He wondered what the scared little girl who’d stared at Zabuza’s grave and swore not to be a burden would think of the fierce woman and leader standing before him now.

“In the long term, I would like to establish the precedent for greater integration of shinobi and civilians.” Sakura began, and Yuki shifted to rest more comfortably against the pillar he’d leant against, because Sakura’s tone had entered lecture mode.

 “I believe in accessible healthcare, both, traditional, and chakra-based, and plan to transform a part of the science clinic into a functioning dual-model hospital.” She paused to let the words sink in, then continued. “Moreover, as an Ambassador, I have borne witness to the benefits of international alliances to bolster our trade, and international cooperation to strengthen a Village’s standing. That means that once the paperwork is out of the way, I will likely begin sending out teams to the countries we form agreements with to liaise and establish connections.”

There were some pessimistic mumbles and scoffs at the claim, likely doubtful of the success of such an endeavour or the likelihood of simply forming an alliance from those who weren’t aware just what Sakura, when she wasn’t a hired murderer, had spent most of the past half-decade doing on her missions outside of Konoha.  

"And that brings me to my final point: education. Children are Otogakure’s future, yet they are the group whose needs I have found to be the least represented within the Village. I therefore plan to establish schools, for shinobi children and civilians alike. If we wish to avoid Kiri’s fate from a decade ago, integration is key. And if we start from the children, it might help us understand how much we can both learn from each other.” Yuki didn’t miss the stress on ‘both’, and he saw some of the civilians look at Sakura in new light at her insistence.

Sakura, however, was either ignorant of the subtle fluctuations in how the crowd perceived her, or intentionally ignoring it in order to finish her first address as quickly as possible. She took another calming breath and aimed a reassuring smile at the group.

“These are just some of my plans, but I am not so arrogant as to believe that I'll be able to think of everything that you need. For all my travels and studies, I have not lived your lives. I do not know your struggles. I hope to learn of them, as we get to know each other, but for now, I trust you to guide me, as much as I ask you to trust me to guide you in the future." 

And then, Sakura unclasped her hands and bowed, and the murmurs that had been going through the crowds as she’d been speaking quietened immediately, silence falling over the crowd once again, though the atmosphere was far different.

Yuki wasn't sure whether awed was quite the right description, but there was respect in the eyes of some of the people now, especially the civilians, and Sakura hadn't even done anything yet beyond bare her heart.

"What if we don't want you to rule us?" A voice called out suddenly, and the sea of heads parted so Sakura – and Yuki – could clearly identify who had spoken, an action that spoke far more to the way she had been received than any grand proclamations of loyalty would have. “Nobody asked for another saviour from Leaf.”

[Yuki made sure to save the naysayer’s face in his mind, and he wondered absently whether Sakura would mind if his first official mission in Oto were to be an assassination.]

"Then I ask you for 100 days.” Sakura said lightly, having straightened from her bow, addressing the shinobi with a small smile playing around her lips despite the blatant challenge to her position. “Give me one hundred days to prove myself, and afterwards, if you still wish to contest my authority, you may do so through combat.”

Yuki only barely managed to stifle a laugh, turning his snickers into a cough. There was the reminder that she was very much a shinobi despite the last few minutes being a – in hindsight, genius – pandering to civilians.

When he turned to subtly glance at where Karin and Suigetsu stood, both of them just looked thrown, clearly not having expected the declaration, and Yuki couldn’t help but think of Anko in that moment, and how proud the woman would have been of her protégé.

Sakura must’ve been thinking` the same, because she offered the crowd the closest she’d come to a smirk so far.

“Just because I am not Orochimaru does not mean I will scrap all of his traditions.” When the scattering of startled laughter died out, Sakura’s humour waned as well, and she titled her head at the man who had spoken. “Are those terms acceptable to you, shinobi-san?”

The man made a sound that Sakura must’ve interpreted as agreeable, because she smiled again.

“That does not mean that I will force you to remain in the Village.” She told the crowd honestly, her eyes serious. “The War has brought about tentative peace between the Great Nations. If you do not find my rule to your satisfaction, you are free to leave Oto and try your luck elsewhere if you wish. You will not be pursued, nor judged if that is to be your decision.”

When the metaphorical dust from that declaration settled, Sakura continued.

“Moving on. As you may or may not have noticed, I did not come here alone.” At that, more than one pair of eyes suddenly turned in Yuki’s direction, and he realised that, once he saw the look on their faces, despite appearances to the contrary, most of the shinobi gathered were more than aware of him and just who he was.

“Some of you likely recognise Yuki of the Mist.” Sakura began, and Yuki bit back a smile at her abject refusal to use his moniker, raising a hand and waggling his fingers at the few still staring unabashedly. “I assure you, he is every bit as fearsome as his legend claims.”

If this was her way of endearing the people of Oto to him, Yuki mused that Sakura had a very odd way of going about it.

“However, he is a lot more than just his legend.” And here, Sakura’s face split into a smile, the most genuine expression so far, and the look in her eyes, when they sought him out, was undeniably fond, even from as far away as he was standing. Then, she flicked her gaze back to the crowd, and continued. “Yuki has been one of my closest and most trusted friends for the better part of five years. I ask that you accept his presence here, in Otogakure, just as I ask you to accept me and my charge, Yoshiro.”

Then, Sakura took a final deep breath, and with the exhale, the last of her nerves finally seemed to leave her, so when she next gazed at the crowd, it was with the cool confidence Yuki rarely saw from her outside of the training field.

It was the confidence of someone who knew who they were and what they could do, and was proud of it.

“And that brings me to my final point. I have told you that I am not my predecessor.” Yuki wasn’t the only one momentarily confused at the sudden non-sequitur, if the collective murmur that swept through the crowd was anything to go by. “However, should I catch wind of anyone mistreating my charge, or any of Otogakure’s children…”

Sakura’s already sharp smile gained a serrated edge, and the look in her eyes grew cold as she stared at the crowd, the emerald gaze jagged and cutting like broken glass. As they waited for her to continue, Sakura tilted her head, her eyes falling to half-lidded, her smile amused but dangerous, an expression that, for the first time since she started speaking, was completely genuine and purely hers.

“I will show you one of the lesser-known reasons why I was named Orochimaru’s legacy.”

After her speech, and upon starting her first official day in the office, Sakura understood precisely why Tsunade was always so grumpy.

Paperwork.

She hadn’t quite realised, no matter how much Karin had tried to warn her, or the amount of time she’d spent in Mei or Gaara’s offices over the years, just how much a ‘kage’ had to deal with.

“You look tense.” Yuki pointed out from where he was lounging on the chaise in the corner of her office, snorting when Sakura wordlessly flipped him off.

“I tried to tell you there’s a lot to get through.” Karin defended, shooting Yuki’s lounging form a judgemental look.

“There’s a slight difference between ‘a lot’, and this.” Sakura mumbled, pointing at the stack of papers that was almost bigger than her head. “And you’re telling me this is just from the last two months?”

“Rebuilding costs.” Karin explained with a shrug, eyeing the stack warily. “Want a hand?”

“Please.” Sakura sighed, waving at the empty chair in front of her desk absently. “It’s not like Yuki’s gonna be much help.”

“You know my strengths don’t lie in paperwork, pinky-chan.” Yuki shot back, sounding almost sleepy, and while Sakura hadn’t been serious in her ‘complaint’, more than aware that they both knew it was just friendly banter, Karin looked indignant.

“’Pinky-chan’? Have some respect, Kaijin.” She chastised, startling Sakura with her waspish tone to the point where she actually looked up from the report on the Land of Rice Fields’ socio-political relations with Hidden Hot Water she’d been trying to read for the last fifteen minutes.

“Ah, no, it’s, uh, it’s fine, Karin-san.” She reassured, almost stumbling over her words, shocked more by Karin’s indignation than Yuki’s quiet cackling she could hear behind her. “Yuki is- he doesn’t- it’s not demeaning. He’s called me that since we’ve known each other. I don’t mind.”

Karin shot her a measured look, not really looking like she believed her, but obligingly returned to her paperwork. “If you say so. But he needs to remember not to do it when other people can hear. You’re a leader now, and we should avoid sabotaging your reputation unnecessarily.”

“Noted, Karin-san.” Sakura agreed, not even jumping when she felt arms sneak around her shoulders and hair tickle her cheek, because she’d had Karin’s wide eyes to warn her Yuki was likely up to something. Instead, she reached up to where she thought she’d find Yuki’s face and flicked his nose. “You heard her? We need to learn some professionalism.”

“Aye-aye, captain.” Yuki replied, and Sakura could tell from his tone he was grinning at Karin even though she couldn’t see his face. “I promise to be on my best behaviour.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Sakura grumbled, feeling Yuki’s chest shake against her back as he laughed, though didn’t deny that she had a right to be doubtful.

Yuki’s craziness was comforting in its familiarity – a constant in her ever-changing universe. Grass was green, water was wet, and Yuki wouldn’t know how to take things seriously if his life depended on it.

And in the craziness around them, Yuki's predictable brand of crazy was a lifeline. 

Her meeting with Kazuya was the first real, painful hurdle in her leadership, and it happened three days after her swearing-in speech.

“I’ve been informed you wish to speak to me.” A man declared upon all but barging into her office, not so much as knocking to announce his presence.

And he was a hulking man. He reminded Sakura a little of Tsurugi, Yuki’s ANBU captain from her and Shikamaru’s first trip to Mist. The man was easily over six feet tall, his shoulders wider than Ibiki’s, and the look in his eyes demonstrated just why Karin had said that he was assumed to be older than the Village system – he had the most jaded gaze Sakura had ever seen on a shinobi.

Beyond his intimidating physique, the man had long, grey hair tied in a tight ponytail and sharp, green eyes with a red sclera. His mouth was covered with a cloth mask, but beyond that, his outfit was startingly basic, consisting of a simple kimono shirt and long grey pants.

“Ah, Kazuya-san-” Sakura began, but the man cut her off, and Sakura felt her irritation spike, even as she dropped a hand beneath the table and signed for Yuki to stand down because she could feel him tense and grow serious at the obvious disrespect and the low-level but nonetheless noticeable wave of KI that the man was emitting.

“-allow me to make one thing clear.” Kazuya interrupted, not even pretending to be apologetic for cutting her off. “I think your ‘plans’ for this Village are idealistic and financially-irresponsible. And they expose you, and the Leaf paradigm you’re operating from. Otogakure is not Leaf, little girl. Don’t try to turn it into Konohagakure because you will fail. I heard Karin has been trying to prepare you for taking over Orochimaru, but judging by your little speech, she didn’t do a good enough job of it.”

Sakura took a subtle breath to calm the surge of irritation she felt rise beneath her skin and made sure her genial smile never wavered as she gestured for Kazuya to take the seat in front of her desk.

“Explain.” She requested quietly, then tried not to lose her temper as the man scoffed and launched into an even longer, biting spiel where he proceeded to do just that.

She’d expected this, she tried to tell herself. She knew not everyone would welcome her, nor react positively to the changes she planned to make. She just hadn’t thought she’d meet resistance so soon, and from such a, if Karin was to be believed, influential party.

Still, she carefully dissected every one of the points Kazuya had raised with Yuki in the safety of their accommodation that night, and, a week later, when she felt like she had a solid defence for each of his reservations, she called him back into her office.

“Thank you for your candour.” She began once she got Yuki and Karin to leave the two of them alone and made sure her silencing seals were activated. She ignored the man’s dismissive snort at her words and carried on. “I’ve considered your reservations, and I’d be willing to consider a diarchy of sorts.”

Kazuya’s expression didn’t change, but it was because of how still he’d suddenly become that Sakura knew she’d surprised him. She let her genial smile turn slightly sharper and tilted her head.

“I told you that I don’t believe that a military dictatorship is the only way to lead, and I meant it. And while I cannot deny that my upbringing and personal experience has somewhat influenced my plans for Oto, I can also learn and adjust them accordingly.” She shrugged a shoulder, meeting the man’s eyes head-on. “They are merely plans, Kazuya-san, they aren’t set in stone. Give me a good enough reason to change them, and I will.”

“What are you suggesting?” he asked at last, his gaze comparably sharp and probing, though some of the hostility had waned somewhat.

“I’m inviting you to work with me.” Sakura explained, holding his gaze as she pushed a sheet with her most immediate plans between them. “You know Oto’s people; I know how to put a Village back on its feet. If you wish, you can oversee the missions our shinobi go on for the next few months, so you can make sure nobody is assigned something they’re unprepared or ill-suited for. Once the immediate financial and socio-political problems are solved, I’d like to restructure the administrative duties somewhat, but that’s more of a far-away goal at the moment.”

“What do you get out of this…diarchy?” he demanded, the word sounding like a curse when he said it, and Sakura’s sharp smile gained teeth.

“Peace of mind.” She shot back, and Kazuya appeared momentarily taken aback, before the earlier cold returned to his eyes.

“Restructuring?” he echoed instead, neither confirming or denying whether he’d be willing to work with her, and Sakura had to wrack her brain for a moment before she realised what he was referring to.

“Yes.” She confirmed, dropping eye contact in favour of shooting a meaningful look at her desks and the sheets of paper still scattered across it. “With the end goal of decentralising power.”

“Decentralising power weakens the kage.” Kazuya countered, seemingly believing that this was a monumental argument she hadn’t considered before, but Sakura just smiled wider.

“Only on the surface level.” She denied, feeling the man’s attention sharpen. “The final say in any big decision will still belong to me. But delegating and decentralising will lessen the administrative sludge I’ll have to trawl through, and it’ll also give people the chance to get involved in Village life, which, in turn, will give them the illusion of control without giving any real power.”

“’Illusion’ of control?” he echoed, considering her thoughtfully, and Sakura wondered why she wasn’t more afraid of that sharp gaze. “Genjutsu mistress, hm?”

“Indeed.” She agreed, too jaded herself to pretend she didn’t understand the reference or know precisely what she was talking about. She’d spent enough time in various kage’s offices to know that it only took one person getting greedy to turn a well-meaning initiative into the path to political ruin.

“And what is preventing me from telling everyone in the Village what you’ve just told me?” Kazuya asked, and Sakura had a moment of heart-stopping panic before she huffed a dismissive laugh.  

“Nothing.” She admitted, though she couldn’t quite bite back the sharp smile. “But, if I may, Kazuya-san, you appear to be operating under the misguided impression that I am determined to stay in power no matter what.”

Kazuya frowned, and Sakura wondered whether she’d finally managed to stump the man.

“You are a politician, are you not? Isn’t that any politician’s goal?”

Sakura couldn’t help but snort, feeling a wry sort of amusement at the implication that her taking over Orochimaru suddenly made her a politician.

“I am a shinobi.” She stressed, not even insulted when the man scoffed. “This – Oto – is but a project for me, Kazuya-san.”

When the man paused, as if unable to believe she’d admitted as much, she grinned, genuinely amused now. “I am here because Orochimaru saved my life, and I owe it to him to at least try to uphold the legacy he left me. But if you name someone who could do this better in my stead, I will step down without complaint.”

“A project.” Kazuya echoed dryly, and Sakura nodded, not in the least apologetic.

“Yes.”

Kazuya sighed, and he too appeared wryly amused, though the sharp look in his eyes hadn’t waned any. “I wondered what could make an accomplished, jounin-level kunoichi who could go toe to toe with Uchiha Obito leave her Village without so much as a backwards glance.”

When Sakura merely waited, letting him get to the point before she said anything, he almost seemed to smile, though it wasn’t a nice expression. “Karin said you left Konohagakure because it felt like a cage. Can you give me any guarantee that you won’t feel the same about Oto in a year or two?”

Sakura took a deep breath, then released it slowly and shook her head.

“No, I cannot.” She replied honestly, having decided that honesty seemed to be what Kazuya was least expecting from her, if his expression was anything to go by.

And indeed, the man appeared the most taken aback he had since he had first burst into her office the previous week, so she laugh humourlessly.

“I know myself enough to know that me eventually feeling stifled is more of a guarantee at this point than a possibility.” She confessed, her smile fading, memories of walking through Konoha’s gates after the War and feeling like she was walking to the gallows still too fresh to ignore.

She took a deep breath and shook the feeling off like a dog would shake off water and continued.

“But, if I can claim to be anything, I am a planning ninja, and I am not one to leave loose ends behind me.” She shot the man a measured look, not even pretending to smile anymore. “If you recall, I did not come here alone.”

Kazuya studied her, eyebrow raised, the look in his eyes contemplative.

“The child?” he checked, something sharp flickering across the visible part of his face. “I assume you do not plan to make the Terror of the Mist your heir.”

Sakura laughed, short and startled.

“Yes, the child.” She confirmed, cracking her neck idly as she delivered her next words. “Yoshiro-kun isn’t a Haruno, as you might’ve guessed.”

When Kazuya appeared to have taken her earlier strategy of ‘wait it out’ and remained silent, she grinned. “He’s a Karatachi.”

At that, the man stilled so completely she thought he must’ve stopped breathing. Then, almost as if needing to remind himself that normal humans breathed, he slowly relaxed and it was only then that Sakura realised how tense he’d been in those few seconds.

“You’re setting up the Yondaime Mizukage’s bastard as your heir?” he asked, tone torn between impressed and disbelieving, the most emotion he’d shown that wasn’t scorn or distaste, and Sakura could do little but shrug again in the face of that.

“Yagura under genjutsu was hardly worse than Orochimaru under his seal.” she explained honestly, a conclusion her and Yuki had reached in the quiet of the night before her swearing-in speech, and Kazuya actually looked thoughtful at that. “But that’s not why I think Yoshiro-kun is well-suited for leadership. While he is advanced for his age, and more than proficient in his father’s Water Mirror technique, he has what Yagura didn’t; he knows what it’s like to feel displaced, or made to feel like you don’t belong, and that, more than his heritage, will help him here.”

If anything, Kazuya’s attention on her sharpened. “What are you implying?”

“That’s what Otogakure started as, isn’t it?” Sakura asked, though it was rhetorical. “A place for those who don’t belong anywhere else.”

When Kazuya continued to simply stare at her, she elaborated, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“I’ve seen the Kaguya walking around, and the Ketsuryūgan is quite distinctive, as are the remains of the Fuma Clan. And, quite frankly, there are not many things which can drive people to willingly subject themselves to morally and scientifically dubious experimentation. The will to survive, or the desire for revival are high on that list, however.” Dropping her gaze to the papers on her desk, among which were the bullet-pointed profiles and skillsets of Oto’s remaining shinobi population Karin had managed to compile for her, she smiled sadly. “It makes sense that Oto would attract survivors.”

In the silence that fell at her declaration, she dared glance up at the man who had come the closest since Orochimaru to truly unsettling her. When he saw her looking, Kazuya met her eyes and reached up to pull down his cloth mask, and-

-Sakura’s breath caught for a moment. There were stitches extending all the way from the corners of his lips to his ears, and she finally realised why the eyes had felt important to her when she’d first seen him.

“I am almost a century old, yet the last time I thought of foresight as something to be wary of was when the Nidaime Hokage was still alive.” Kazuya intoned, and with his mask off, he looked even more intimidating, a factor which wasn’t helped any by his words. Then, the full weight of what he was saying hit, and Sakura felt…flattered, if somewhat discomfited by the comparison.

Then, Kazuya sighed, and with that simple action, Sakura could believe that he was as old as he claimed. When he spoke, his voice was devoid of the judgement and hostility that had saturated it until that point, and he merely sounded…tired.

“I am alone, Haruno-san. Even my brother has perished.” He told her frankly, and Sakura’s suspicion as to the identity of his brother was all but confirmed. “Otogakure, for the last two decades, has been, if not a home, then a haven. Forgive me if I am distrusting of those who would seek to change that.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Sakura told the man honestly, because now that he wasn’t hostile, she could sympathise. “It is understandable. But, Kazuya-san, that aspect of Oto doesn’t have to change. I, myself, am treating this place as a haven; I have nothing against it being the same for others. All I would seek to change would be the quality of life of those who do choose to come here, and I believe that could be accomplished at least partly by the plans I had made and mentioned.”

When he simply studied her, she tried for a more genuine smile than she’d aimed at him thus far.

“I have many complicated feelings about the legacy I have been entrusted with as well as Orochimaru himself.” She confessed, and Kazuya twitched, shooting her an almost amused look at the admission. “Yet the fact remains, Kazuya-san, that you have wisdom I could only dream of, while I have foresight. I don’t see why, between us, we cannot shape Oto into a Village which can stand on an equal footing with the other Great Nations.”

For a beat, there was only silence to follow her words, then Kazuya pulled his mask back on and pinned her with a contemplative look. “You were right about possessing Orochimaru’s ambition.”

At that, Sakura laughed, freer and more genuine since she'd managed in the last two days. 

“I stopped believing in the word ‘impossible’ years ago, Kazuya-san.” she confessed, thinking back to all the events which have made her into the person she now was. “Without ambition and a close group of people who supported and believed in me, I probably would’ve retired upon reaching chunin and become a housewife.”

Kazuya simply hummed at that, studying her again, and Sakura would never know what he saw beneath her mask. But whatever it was had him sighing, settling more comfortably in his chair and gesturing absently at the papers on her desk.

“Let’s hear those plans of yours again.”

Karin hadn’t intended to like Sakura.

Not from the brief mentions of her whenever Sasuke deigned to talk about his time in Leaf.

Not from Suigetsu when he’d been fascinated by this slip of a girl who’d found a way past his ultimate defence and matched his sheer viciousness in a fight, a fascination which morphed into nigh-hero worship when she’d gifted him Kubikiribocho with seemingly no strings attached.

Not even as the girl who’d gifted her a link to her culture and heritage, though she couldn’t deny that mastering the adamantine chains had come in useful a few times.

When Karin had healed her, one of the two survivors of the final battle, in the makeshift tents that had been set up around the fronts, and glimpsed the seal-tattoo on her wrist giving her access to Orochimaru’s most secure notes and seals, she’d been determined to help Sasuke’s old teammate only enough to ensure Oto’s survival, her Village’s survival, and nothing more.

And when Sakura had manipulated Suigetsu – not that Suigetsu had been aware of it, or that it had been done maliciously – but nonetheless manipulated Karin’s unfortunately-undeniable best friend into thinking that going to Kiri for a few months had been his decision, Karin was very close to hating the girl.

But then, they spent time together, all but moved in together with how much time Karin spent in Sakura’s office in those first few months of the other girl’s kageship, and Karin was forced to revaluate her impression.

Sakura was many things, but idiotic or incompetent she was not, and that boded well for Otogakure’s future.

But Karin still didn’t like her, because Sakura refused to be defined, and that was infuriating.

She’d learned early on in their acquaintance that, just like a snake shed skin, Sakura had masks she’d put on and discard at will, and those masks alone made her more terrifying than her A-Rank status or the barely controlled violence lurking beneath her and the Mist-nin’s skin that betrayed how she’d managed to keep pace with Suigetsu, of all people.

Because Sakura was a chameleon, and much like Orochimaru, she could play people like the fiddle.

“My parents were civilian; my father was a bureaucrat and my mother an actress. I learned early on the importance of appearances.” Sakura’d said when Karin had pressed her about her more manipulative, performative side, a complicated expression on her face as she talked about her parents.

And while the civilian upbringing and parents who were apparently very conscious of social mobility and underhanded politics might have explained how Sakura knew how to placate the civilian merchants and representatives, it didn’t explain all the other confusing facets of her personality and her reign.

“Why the focus on civilians, the pandering?” Karin had demanded after Sakura’s first month as leader of Oto, when the girl had finished yet another placating missive to yet another daimyo in order to secure yet another trading deal. “This is a shinobi Village, but apart from your meeting with Kazuya-san, you haven’t done anything for them.”

And that had been weird, too. Kazuya – who inspired a healthy dose of respect if not outright fear even in the most jaded of jounin purely for all that he had survived – had come to the office three days after Sakura’s swearing-in speech and all but laughed in the girl’s face at her ‘plans’ for Otogakure.

And Sakura, despite the way Karin felt her chakra spike irritably, and the way the Kiri-nin at her shoulder had lost his easy-going smile at the slight, Sakura never lost her politely-interested mask as she gestured for Kazuya to sit.

“Explain.” She’d ordered, soft and quiet and nonthreatening despite Kazuya’s hostile disposition, and listened as he did just that.

She’d allowed him to leave, after, then called him in to her office a week later. Karin didn’t know what had been decided there, as her and the Mist-nin had been asked to leave the two jounin alone, but it seemed as if an agreement had been reached between the two, if the quiet respect that marked their following interactions was anything to go by.

“The fact of the matter is,” Sakura had told her a few days after the second meeting, not in the slightest phased by Karin’s indirect accusation, “happy civilians bring more civilians. And more civilians bring more trade, which in turn helps revitalise the economy. Once there’s a steady source of income from trade, the money can be used to subsidise housing and gear for active shinobi, fund psychological treatments, physical therapy, career alternatives for retired or disabled shinobi – you name it, if you’ve got money, you’ve got it.”

“Missions earn the Village money, too.” Karin had defended with a frown, and Sakura had nodded, conceding the point.

“Yes, they do. But in order for them to be profitable, the missions have to be a high rank, which comes with a higher risk level. If I send out my shinobi in inferior gear, or with untreated mental illnesses, or simply starving because they can’t afford decent food, it can negatively impact their chance of survival, and the Village will end up losing money as a result. Civilian trade is a much lower-risk and much more long-term investment.”

“That’s all it is?” Karin had asked, somewhat disbelieving. “An investment?”

“That’s all it is.” There had been no warmth in Sakura’s eyes at that declaration, though she’d then hastened to add, as if hoping to save face, “Naturally, I want all of Oto’s citizens to be happy, but in terms of the ‘pandering’, as you called it, that’s where my reasoning begins and ends. Civilians bring trade, and trade brings money. And a Village cannot run on the Power of Friendship alone.”

“You’re cold.” Karin had concluded, an epiphany and a curse all in one. It made sense, in a twisted way; how else would a girl from Leaf with pink hair have found common ground with a man who shared blood with part of the Akatsuki’s infamous Zombi Combo?

Sakura had smiled, small and bittersweet, and said nothing at the remark, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, but her back had been straight and her gaze lacking any trace of regret.

If that had been it, that would’ve been easy. Because that would’ve confirmed that, beyond her apparent prowess in the field that earned her Suigetsu’s respect and the promotion to jounin, and the coincidence of being in the same place at the same time with the final battle, Orochimaru had named the unassuming, pink-haired Leaf-girl his successor for her business-like, goal-oriented approach to the lives of others, which they would’ve shared even after Orochimaru’s seal had been removed.

But then Karin caught Sakura buying sweet treats for her charge and his friends and teaching chakra-tricks to the genin-hopefuls, a soft, unguarded and unbearably fond expression on her face as she watched the children play, one which only grew when they managed to rope the Mist-nin into playing with them.

She caught her walking around the Village with Juugo, a thoughtful look in her eyes and not a hint of fear, even though Juugo’s forearm was the size of her neck.

She caught her interacting with the remnants of the Chinoike Clan and regarding their genjutsu not with fear but awe. She caught her working on the genjutsu around the Village, and, upon consulting Kazuya, found that Sakura had strengthened the illusions that kept Oto from prying eyes.

She would’ve had to have been blind and death not to catch the fact that Sakura had found a way to incorporate genjutsu sight into sealing and gifted every one of the civilians residing in Oto with a seal that allowed them to come and go from the Village at will, without shinobi escort.

She caught her in the labs on her day off, painting seals on the walls and lab desks to reinforce them, while the Mist-nin coached a group of half-transformed teens through how to set the barrier seal.

She caught her with civilians, exchanging recipes and stories from other Nations, patiently taking advice on Oto’s sartorial customs and cultural traditions.

Overall, she realised that Sakura outside of her office was soft, caring, almost motherly for all that she was still a teen, and the contrast between that and her cold eyes and business-like mien in the office baffled Karin.

And then, a month and a half into Sakura’s kageship, Karin saw another facet of the confusing assassin.

Kazuya was taking over Sakura’s duties for the day, one of the terms in their agreement apparently awarding him some degree of control over the Village he had seen built and destroyed and built again, and Sakura, on the insistence of her Mist lapdog, was on the training field.

Karin didn’t even know that was where Sakura planned to head, having taken the day off herself as well, not as keen to spend it in the office with Kazuya behind the desk as she was to do so with Sakura. But, when a giant containment barrier went up around one of the most remote training grounds, she didn’t bother fighting the urge to head over and investigate.

Nor did about half-a-dozen other shinobi, if the chakra bursts signifying multiple Shunshin were anything to go by.

When she got to the edges of the training grounds, it turned out that the chakra barrier was much like what Sakura had erected the first time she’d sparred against Suigetsu, only this time, her and the Mist-nin were the ones inside.

After watching for a few more seconds, Karin understood the reason for the barrier.

‘Sasuke’s darling teammate told him she doesn’t spar non-lethally anymore.’ Orochimaru had said when Karin had asked why Sasuke had lost both his Sharingan. ‘Sasuke chose not to heed the warning."

At first, the explanation hadn’t made sense – who in their right mind sparred using lethal force?

Watching the fight between Sakura and Yuki, Karin had realised that neither participant was in their right mind.

“You’ve gotten slower, pinky-chan.” the Mist-nin had taunted, even as he flexed his chakra to break the double-layered genjutsu and ducked under a swipe of Sakura’s naginata that would’ve decapitated him had he been milliseconds slower. “I’ll need to drag you away from that desk more often.”

“And you’ve gotten arrogant.” Sakura had cooed, and a moment later, a canyon split the training grounds, stopped at both ends by the chakra-barrier, a result of a series of explosive tags that must’ve somehow been planted underground, though Karin had no idea when.

For the next few seconds, only the ring of steel-on-steel could be heard as Karin waited anxiously for the dust to settle. Well, the clash of metal and laughter, light-hearted and breathless and not at all like what she expected to hear out of either shinobi currently fighting.

If that fight had done anything, it was prove that Sakura could throw dirt in someone’s eyes and stab her kunai into someone’s kidney and set her most venomous snake on her sparring partner without a moment’s hesitation, then kiss the man on the cheek and sit on his lap as she healed him, while still bleeding herself, mind, not five minutes later.  

It may have also proven how a Leaf-nin had been deemed worthy of wielding Kubikiribocho, because Sakura was undoubtedly a better swordsman than Sasuke, almost evenly matched with the Mist-nin.

After that fight, the few other shinobi who’d watched from the sides were ever so slightly more respectful towards Sakura when Karin saw them interact with the girl both in and out of the office.

What Karin still didn’t understand though, even after two months at Sakura’s side, was what had made Orochimaru deem her worthy.

And then, there came the day when she understood.

But, oh, she wished she hadn’t.

On the 98^th day of Sakura’s kageship, Otogakure’s first real genin team, one Sakura had personally put together and along with Kazuya-san had hand-picked their instructor and their maiden mission, came back.

They came back beaten and bruised and bleeding, ashen complexions and torn clothes and tear-tracks in the grime on their faces. The fact that they were missing their instructor was overshadowed by the fact that one of the boys missing his entire forearm.  

Sakura’s eyes had zeroed in on the bleeding stump hastily wrapped in what must have been one of the boys’ t-shirts, and her face had lost all colour and expression.

Then, between one blink and the next, she was on the other side of the desk, kneeling in front of the boy, her hands lit green and wrapped around his upper arm.

“I promise you,” she murmured, heartbreak in her voice even as she grasped the boy’s remaining hand and pressed a kiss to his bloodied knuckles, “I promise we’ll get you the best prosthetic Suna has to offer. For now though, I’ve burned out the infection and numbed the nerves, but please go with Yuki to the clinic and get it checked out, just in case.”

“Sakura-?” The Mist-nin asked, startled, but he must’ve read something Karin couldn’t see on Sakura’s face because his expression also grew more serious and he subsided with a simple nod and an inexplicable: “Be careful.”

Then, he turned to the boy – Kaoru, if Karin remembered correctly – the earlier severity wiped from his gaze in exchange for something softer than his usual sharp amusement and waggled his fingers. “C’mon, kid, let’s go get you checked out.”

When the door closed behind them, Sakura finally got up from her knees and turned to the oldest boy, one Karin vaguely recalled as having been in Yoshiro’s little group of friends the previous month.

“Akashi-kun.” Sakura sighed, her expression pinched and tired, and perched on her desk rather than behind it, pinning the boy with a weighted stare. “What happened.”

“Ambush.” The boy croaked, his voice hoarse and wet with unshed tears, and Sakura ghosted her hand over her forearm. A moment later, a water bottle came sailing at Akashi’s head and he only just caught it, absently nodding his thanks while his other hand came up to wipe at his eyes.

“A whole encampment of shinobi. Missing-nin, mostly, some Ame-nin. People who didn’t like the peace between the Nations. I think- I think they were trying to start a village of their own, because at first, one of the men offered us work.” Akashi reported after he’d drank some of the water and offered the remainder to his teammate, and his voice shook on every other word. “Then he saw our headbands and when he found out we were from Oto, he- he-!”

“There were civilians, too.” The third boy murmured when Akashi broke into loud sobs, and Karin felt a shiver go down her spine at the emptiness in his voice, something which Sakura appeared to take note of too judging by the way her focus sharpened. “But they didn’t look like they were there voluntarily.”

“Where was this…encampment?” Sakura asked flatly, a frown creasing her brows, and Karin’s focus switched to Sakura at her words because now it was undeniable that something beyond the obvious was wrong here.

“North of Hidden Hot Water, right by the border with Frost.” The third boy reported, his voice equally toneless to Sakura’s.

Sakura nodded, satisfied.

“I’ll be by to see you myself when I get back, but until then, stop by the clinic, rest, eat something, and talk to Kazuya-san.” Karin didn’t know what Sakura saw on the boys’ faces at that, because to her, they just looked tired and traumatised, but she must’ve seen something, because her next words were sharper. “That’s an order, Izuki-kun. Trust me, apathy is not a state you want to spend too much time in.”

Taking the dismissal for what it was, the boys nodded, bowed, and left, and when the door shut behind them, Sakura sighed again, the final mask crumbling, and unclasped her haori, draping it over the back of her desk chair. She was still studiously avoiding eye-contact as she headed for the window, but neither her chakra nor her face showed any hint of emotion.

“Where are you going?” Karin demanded, alarmed, and when Sakura spoke, still not meeting her eyes, her voice was the coldest Karin had ever heard it.

“I told you.” Sakura murmured, turning her back to Karin and pushing one of the windows open, hopping up until she was crouched on the sill. “Nobody harms Otogakure’s children and gets away with it.”

And then she was gone.

The rumours came first.

From travelling merchants to the few Oto shinobi who’d had their own missions in the area, it seemed like everyone who’d been in the vague vicinity had something to say.

A whole town massacred.

Nobody left alive.

All the bodies burned.

Nobody knows who did it.

And then, suddenly, everyone knew who had done it.

Because on the hundred and first day since Sakura took over Otogakure, the area-effect genjutsu that protected Oto’s borders was fully taken down for the first time since Sakura herself had arrived to the Village.

Alarmed, because the civilian merchants who came and went had all been tagged with Sakura’s seal while Oto’s shinobi knew better than to break the whole genjutsu when they were coming back, Karin ran to where she sensed the disturbance, Yuki and Kazuya hot on her heels.

The sight that greeted them – and the dozen Oto-nin who’d also sensed the genjutsu get broken – would be engraved in Karin’s mind for years to come.

Sakura walked into the Village, leading a group of about fifty people behind her, half of whom couldn’t have been older than twelve, while the other half seemed to mostly be in their mid-thirties onwards. Civilian, most likely, because shinobi rarely got to live that long and keep all their limbs.

Sakura herself looked…Karin wasn’t sure whether ‘regal’ was appropriate, but there was little else that came to mind when she saw Sakura’s posture and the grimly satisfied expression in her eyes.

And she looked unharmed, naginata slung carelessly across her back and her brown kimono shirt open, revealing the seldom-seen black vest beneath, which only added to the illusion of an emperor coming back from a conquest rather than a single shinobi returning from a revenge mission.

It was only when Sakura came within five metres of Karin, Yuki, and Kazuya, that the stench reached them.

Sakura reeked of death; of iron and sweat and excrement, and, as if triggered by the smell, Karin had the startling realisation that Sakura’s kimono wasn’t actually brown, but so liberally soaked with blood that the original lilac could barely be discerned beneath the layer of gore.  

As Sakura came to a stop in front of her, Karin could finally see the details that had initially escaped her, though she regretted it almost immediately.

Sakura’s face, barring the grim expression that adorned it, was spotless, not a scratch on her. But while her hands were clean, there was blood and gore under her nails. Dried blood also coated the blade of her naginata all the way to the wooden staff, and as she looked down, what Karin had first presumed to be mud on the toes of her boots was decidedly too shiny to be just mud.

The worst was the fact that Sakura looked unbothered at being the picture of carnage.

And then, as if snapping out of the same trance Karin had fallen into, Yuki stepped out from behind her and covered the distance between him and Sakura in a blink, one hand rising to her cheek, the other seeking out her wrist, his pointer and middle fingers subtly landing on her pulse point.

When Sakura accepted the touch, merely tilting her head and meeting his gaze, he pulled her into a short, bone-crushing hug, then stepped away and asked the question that seemed to be on everyone’s minds:

“What happened?”

And Sakura smiled, shrugging absently, and it was clear that she was speaking only to the Mist-nin, either ignoring the gathered crowd or blocking them out.

“A bunch of shinobi displeased by the new peace tried to start their own village happened.” She murmured, dropping the eye-contact, though she didn’t even try to dislodge Yuki’s hold on her wrist. “They stole some chakra-restricting cuffs when everyone was fighting Obito’s army and were kidnapping civilians and shinobi alike, ‘Warring States Period-style’, and using some kind of Yamanaka-offshoot to force them to work.”

A cold, cruel glint flashed through Sakura’s eyes, though her tone didn’t change when she added, “I killed that fucker first.”

Yuki though, Yuki still looked concerned, and there was an extra depth to his voice, one which Karin was sure was somehow significant but she didn’t have all the context and it infuriated her:

“How many?” Yuki asked then, and Sakura shrugged, her gaze straying again, and Karin’s weird sense of not-right returned.

“Around thirty? I didn’t keep count.” She replied, her voice completely flat, and for the first time since she’d met her, Karin saw Sakura fidget.

 “Forty-seven.” A quiet voice piped up from the back of the group, though Karin didn’t see the speaker. “Most were chunin-level, but…forty-seven.”

“You’re unharmed.” Kazuya pointed out, speaking for the first time since he followed Karin to the gates, and on anybody else, there would’ve been suspicion and surprise in his eyes judging by his tone, but if anything, he just looked as if he’d expected nothing less.

Sakura looked up then, meeting the man’s gaze, and her blank masked cracked with a wry, humourless smile, as if sharing an inside joke.

“I’m an assassin who favours Silent Kill, and a genjutsu mistress, Kazuya-san.” She murmured, a statement rather than a brag. “They never saw me coming.”

“Did you give them the chance to surrender?” Yuki asked, bringing Sakura’s wandering gaze back to his with the words, and she nodded, fatigue giving way to a flash of unexpected earnestness.  

“I did. I isolated the civilians first, then the shinobi who would fight from those who just wanted to leave. Most of them simply fled, but some tagged along.” She gestured absently to the back of the group, though she didn’t turn. “Those who chose to fight ended up choosing wrong.”

And then, in the ringing silence that followed that declaration, Sakura seemed to remember something, and her eyes scanned the small crowd that had gathered before settling on a specific face.

“Ah, Satori-san,” she addressed the man, and Karin felt his chakra jump, a note of apprehension in his signature. “My apologies for missing the hundredth day deadline. Do you still wish to challenge me?”

And for the first time since Karin had known him, Satori exhibited signs that he was in possession of some common sense and shook his head.

“N-no, Sakura-sama.” He denied, his voice cracking on the word, the honorific for once sounding genuine. “I rescind my complaint.”

“Fantastic.” Sakura breathed, sagging momentarily, visibly exhausted, before she firmed her stance and turned those dead eyes on Karin. “Would you mind showing them to the new apartment complex? I’ll be by first thing tomorrow to check on everyone, but I’m not…equipped to do that right now.”

Karin nodded, struck speechless, and Sakura smiled, small but genuine, and then she turned her hand in the hold Yuki still had on her wrist, lacing their fingers, and in the next breath, both were gone.

Karin studied the crowd that had followed Sakura to Otogakure, then switched her attention to the group of Oto shinobi who had witnessed the exchange. As she did that, she witnessed the exact moment the gathered Oto-nin realised what Sakura had meant by the thinly-veiled threat she’d given at her swearing-in speech.

“I will show you one of the lesser-known reasons why I was named Orochimaru’s legacy.”

No, there were no doubts left as to why the little Leaf girl had been named Orochimaru’s successor.

Nor, if she was reading their expressions right, did anyone harbour any reservations about Sakura’s right to the post.

That day, despite the tragedy that had caused it, Sakura was officially recognised as the rightful ruler of Oto in the minds of its people.

Two months later, during another one of her – now weekly – blissful 24 hours away from the desk, Sakura sighed and waddled over to Yuki, flopping down next to the assassin after she’d washed off most of the sweat and grime from their spar in a nearby stream.

Sakura would be eternally glad for the arrangement she’d reached with Kazuya - giving up the kage desk once a week and giving the man a modicum of control over his people and the sort of missions they took seemed like fair pay-off for the full day of free time she got as a result.

(The fact that it made him less likely to start his own faction and gave Sakura time to spend with Yuki and Yoshiro and the people she was in charge of leading was an added bonus and a luxury she knew better than to underestimate.)

"That's a heavy sigh." Yuki remarked quietly, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his arm to study her, though the ever-present glint of amusement in his eyes made Sakura snort rather than worry at the scrutiny.

"Just glad to be out of the office, really." She replied, stretching her arms over her head until her back popped with an audible crack and she felt a week’s worth of tension wash away.

"Kageship not all it's cracked up to be?" Yuki asked, shooting her a teasing smile, and Sakura rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at the man.

"You know damn well it isn't, you've been by my side every day." She shot back, then sighed again and voiced something that’s been on her mind for a good month. “They’re respectful now.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Yuki asked, following her thought process without fault despite the non-sequitur.

“Of course it’s not, but I’m worried for the reason behind the change.” She replied, frowning at the sky and adamantly ignoring the way she could feel Yuki’s expectant gaze on her skin. “If you recall, it changed after the Kaoru Situation.”

“Use your words, pinky-chan.” Yuki encouraged, only a touch sarcastic, the nickname he usually avoided using in her office coming out and causing Sakura to be hit by a wave of fondness for the assassin at her side.

She huffed and closed her eyes, resigning herself to naming the elephant in the room. She’s known Yuki for six years now. He’d earned her honesty. “I don’t want the respect to stem from fear.”

“Attagirl.” Yuki congratulated, and this time Sakura couldn’t help but snort, feeling her worry fade somewhat. “Now turn over and look at me, this is important.”

When Sakura did, she was surprised to note the unusually serious expression in his eyes, but she held his gaze regardless.

“I had to explain it to shadow-boy too when he was being an idiot over Ao’s death, but you gotta start using that big brain of yours when you’re dealing with different cultures.” Yuki told her, and though it didn’t sound like chastisement, it certainly felt like it. “These people, your people, they’re used to Orochimaru. Who, even after his seal was removed, was not what you’d call a good man. Their standard for fear is much higher than somebody’s in Leaf would be.”

Sakura opened her mouth, not really sure what she wanted to say, but wanting to give voice to the instinctive protest at the tip of her tongue, but Yuki pressed a finger against her lips and shot her a look.

“Not to mention,” he continued, as if she hadn’t tried to interrupt, “you’re looking at this from the civilian perspective, where single-handedly slaughtering fifty people in one night is abhorrent. But look at it from the shinobi perspective.”

When Sakura frowned, not following, he dropped his hand in favour of gesturing absently. “Orochimaru had a long life and he made many enemies. Inheriting his Village, taking up his legacy, you’re inheriting all those conflicts, too. Look at what happened to Kaoru and his sensei: just the fact that they were from Oto was enough to damn them. The respect you’re seeing now doesn’t stem from fear. Trust me. It comes from the fact that the shinobi saw that you can deal with the enemies Orochimaru had made.”

Sakura frowned. It made sense, but-

“I’m an A-Rank kunoichi.” She pointed out, because it felt important, but Yuki had an answer to that, too.

“Yes,” he agreed, rolling his eyes, “and you’ve spent the past four months sitting behind a desk and pandering to civilians.”

“A Village cannot run on shinobi alone.” Sakura defended, not having expected to have to have this conversation with Yuki, too. “You saw it with Mist.”

“I know that.” Yuki soothed, and Sakura felt some of her ruffled feathers smooth back down. “I reckon Kazuya has also learnt that by now. But not everyone has as much foresight as you, pinky-chan.”

When Sakura blinked, not following, Yuki sighed, fond but exasperated, but didn’t elaborate, so she dropped the matter for the moment and focused on what had set them on this conversation in the first place.   

“So the respect is…genuine? Because I wiped out a fledgling village?” she checked, almost unwilling to believe it, but Yuki just nodded.

“Because you showed you’re more than a desk shinobi and can deal with the problems Orochimaru left behind.” He confirmed. “Problems which didn’t magically disappear just because of his actions in the war.”

A few minutes passed in silence, then Sakura sighed, a tired smile pulling at her lips.

“…Thank you.” she murmured, closing her eyes for a beat. “And thank you for being here, by the way. I wish I could make you understand how much I appreciate it."

"I understand, pinky-chan.” he assured her, but there was something…unusual in his voice, not bad, but rarely heard.

He almost sounded…insecure.

“Use your words.” Sakura parroted, getting a fondly annoyed glare from Yuki when he realised what she’d done.

“Fine.” he grumbled, then appeared to steel himself before he met her gaze once again. “Why did you choose me for this? You know shadow-boy and Chojuro would've followed you to the ends of the earth if you'd asked."

Sakura blinked, not having expected that line of questioning, particularly since she thought the answer was rather obvious.

“Because I learned my lesson on the downfall of co-dependency with Genma.” She replied, not fully able to wipe the surprise from her face at the question. “And because Shika and Cho deserve to figure out what they want to do by themselves. If that turns out to be following me here, then I want it to be their choice, not some convoluted sense of loyalty.”

Yuki nodded, appearing to accept her explanation, but the look in his eyes was knowing when he said; “That’s noble, but don’t think I didn’t notice that you haven’t answered my question, pinky-chan.”

Sakura huffed, but obligingly elaborated, because, deep down, it was comforting to know that even Yuki needed reassurance once in a while.

“Because I meant what I told Mei: I trust you.” she began, grinning when Yuki appeared to reel back slightly at her vehemence. “You never hesitate to tell me I'm wrong, you always call me out on my bullshit even, and especially, when I don't want to acknowledge it.”

She paused, knowing without asking that they both could name at least three occurrences that proved her words, then continued, growing more serious.

“And, truth of the matter is, I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't have the first clue as to how to lead a village.” She confessed, smiling wryly when Yuki looked like he was going to protest, though she held up a hand to stall him. “I'm an assassin, Yuki. And a genjutsu mistress at that. I was never meant for the limelight. Having you here with me…helps. Makes it feel less surreal.”

“You not having a clue what you’re doing is bullshit and you know it.” Yuki huffed, though he was smiling, fond and amused. “You might not have started with this in mind, but nobody can deny you earned your right to be here and are doing the best you can to deal with the hand you’ve been dealt.”

Sakura couldn’t help but snort at the ‘not have started with this in mind’ part, though she was grateful for the reassurance nonetheless.

“When I started, all I had in mind was being able to pull my weight.” She replied, laughing now, and she dropped the eye-contact in favour of flopping on her back and gazing up at the cloudy sky above them. “And somehow, seven years later, I'm a kage.”

“Talk about character development.” Yuki mumbled, mirroring her, and they both broke into quiet snickers at the comment.

A few minutes passed in silence, both of them in their own heads, content to simply soak in the other’s company and bask in the temporary lack of responsibilities.

Then, after what could’ve been minutes or hours, Yuki spoke again, breaking the silence.

“So, I'm your reality check?” he asked, circling back to the question she still hasn’t given him a clear answer for, and Sakura sighed, letting her eyes slip shut.

“No.” She murmured, feeling her face warm as the first rays of sunshine broke through the clouds. “You're my anchor.”

She pretended not to hear the choked sound Yuki made at that, content to soak in the warmth from the sun and his company for the remainder of the day.

Six months into her term as the Nidaime Otokage, Sakura stepped into her office to the sight of a hawk tapping on her office window.

“That’s Sasuke’s.” Karin breathed, looking to Sakura for permission before she approached the window to let the messenger bird in.

Sakura watched as she unrolled the message from the bird’s leg and caught it as it was chucked at her, though she couldn’t help but sigh once she recognised who the penmanship belonged to.

Haruno,

I should’ve guessed you’d take up my teammate’s mantle as soon as I was no longer your kage. Instead, I got the news out of your teammate when the idiot decided to try to keep pace with me and forgot he can flush his liver out.

I know better than to think Orochimaru would’ve invested in a hospital, and I know you better than to assume you would’ve let that stand. So, I have a favour to ask.

Let my annoying student shadow your medics for a week. He won’t step foot in Konoha and I won’t subject myself to Kumo’s hospitality. You’re our best option. In turn, I will send you the Uzushio scrolls we found in the Uzu ruins. I’m sure both, you and your Uzumaki medic will find their contents useful.

Good luck with the kageship,
-S. T

“This was written by your Hokage?” Karin demanded, and Sakura startled, not having realised the girl had been reading over her shoulder.

“Ex-Hokage, technically.” Sakura clarified, bringing the letter – and one of the suspicious looking stains – closer to her nose, grimacing when her suspicion was confirmed. “I think she was drunk when she wrote it.”

“Are you going to reply?” Karin asked instead, a note in her voice that Sakura hadn’t heard before, and she paused, turning to the other girl with a thoughtful frown.

“Would you like to see Sasuke?” Sakura replied to her question with a question of her own, having a suspicion as to the reason behind the query.

Karin’s eyes widened, then she looked away before she seemingly firmed up her resolve and met Sakura’s gaze again, nodding mutely.

“Then I will.” Sakura announced, heading over to her desk, pulling out her special sealed paper and sitting down to draft a reply.

“That’s it?” Karin blurted, visibly taken aback, then collected herself and tried again, a frown on her face. “You hate Sasuke.”

“I’m indifferent to Sasuke.” Sakura corrected absently as she penned a response, chewing at the tip of her pen. “If you’d like to see him, and we gain some Uzushio scrolls out of it, I don’t see why we shouldn’t do it. An IOU with a Sannin is quite useful, I’ve found.”

“’We’?” Karin parroted, looking, if Sakura wasn’t reading her wrong, torn between touched and taken aback. “You’re…considering what I want. Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Sakura asked, putting down her pen and frowning at Karin, genuinely confused. “This is your Village as much as it is mine or Kazuya-san’s, and you’ve been in the office with me every day, advising me and helping me out with whatever I need. Giving you the opportunity to see Sasuke – while also gaining something from it, mind – is the least I can do.”

“…Thanks.”

I’ll host your student. But I will not be held responsible for my doctors’ reactions should my teammate insist on being his usual charming self.
-H.S

You have a deal. And the Uzu scrolls.

  Expect the headache to arrive in a week.

A week later, Sakura was in the office, Kazuya on the other side of her desk and the first ‘final draft’ of their new rank system between them. Yuki and Karin were off teaching a group of chunin-hopefuls the more subtle aspects of the ninja arts that they’d need for the exams the four of them had prepared for the next month.

The agreements with the other Villages were coming along, but not quickly enough for Sakura to feel confident sending a bunch of her genin into Kumo, especially given what had happened to Kaoru mere three months prior.

Then, she felt the first three layers of the genjutsu that protected Oto from prying eyes get broken in quick succession and she exchanged a look with Kazuya, both coming to the same conclusion. Sakura offered her hand to the man, cheered when he took it, then let the whirl of Hiraishin take them to the edge of the genjutsu barrier.

“That,” Kazuya grunted as he released her hand, taking a single unsteady step to the side before he squared his shoulders and cleared his throat, “takes some getting used to.”

“I threw up the first fifteen times I jumped, don’t worry.” Sakura grinned, then stepped through the genjutsu barrier where she’d felt it break and raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the Uchiha she found there.

“I assume this is you knocking, Sasuke?” she asked archly, somewhat baffled by the visible double-take Sasuke did at the sight of her before his face smoothed out again save for a matching raised eyebrow.

“Hn. You’re still paranoid.” He greeted, forgoing any form of social niceties as per. “The genjutsu was fine as it was before.”

“I am now in charge of a Village.” She reminded him, hating the mix of exasperation and amusement she always felt at her interactions with Sasuke. “A Village which comprises small children and civilians. Paranoia comes hand-in-hand with responsibility, though I doubt you’ve heard of the latter.”

“Ouch.” Sasuke drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “You were much nicer in your letters.”

“That’s because I didn’t get the full brunt of your charming personality in the letters.” Sakura replied, aware that Kazuya was standing mere inches behind her and witnessing their entire exchange, but she enjoyed messing with Sasuke like this. “Was there something you wanted, or did you just come to be a nuisance?”

“I am on a reconnaissance mission.” Sasuke grunted, adamantly not looking at either her or Kazuya now.

“Reconnaissance of…?” Sakura pressed, feeling vindictively satisfied when Sasuke scowled at her.

“Your hospital.”

“What makes you think I have a hospital?” Sakura asked, aware she was being a bit mean, but watching Sasuke flounder brought her genuine joy. A taste of his own medicine wouldn’t hurt Sasuke. Much. “Orochimaru didn’t.”

“Tsunade was insistent you’d change that.” Sasuke huffed, though there was doubt in his gaze now, and Sakura was careful to keep her neutral mask as she shrugged.

“Tsunade isn’t always right.”

“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.” Sasuke glared, and Sakura felt a tiny spike of irritation get through her amusement.

“I remind you I am now a kage, Sasuke. One misstep and you will not be walking out of here.” She reminded her old teammate, somewhat validated when he flinched, more than aware she wasn’t bluffing. “Use your words, Uchiha. Ask me for what you need.”

“I need to shadow your medics.” Sasuke ground out, looking as if every word was costing him, then glared. “To work on my- my ‘bedside manner’. Will you, oh great Otokage-sama, allow me into your hospital?”

“Of course, Sasuke.” Sakura agreed jovially, smiling now, and Sasuke’s twitch at the change nearly made her break character. “But bear in mind, any funny business around the hospital staff, and they will not be held responsible for any body parts you may lose.”

“…Understood.”

And as Sakura flared her chakra and Juugo appeared, eyes widening when he spotted Sasuke before he smiled, small and wryly amused, clasping forearms with Sasuke before he led him away in the direction of the clinic.

In theory, Sasuke knew the Village probably better than she did. But if there was anyone she trusted to keep Sasuke in check, Juugo was it.

“Didn’t you receive a missive from Senju Tsunade about this visit a week ago?” Kazuya asked when Sasuke and Juugo were finally out of earshot, stepping up so he was standing at her side.

“Mm, I did.” Sakura confirmed absently, more of her focus on rebuilding the genjutsu layers Sasuke had ripped down than the conversation. 

“Why put him through the wringer then?”

And Sakura snorted, turning so she could grin at the man, genuine mirth in her eyes when she said, “Because it’s more fun.”

Kazuya studied her for a beat, snorted, and shook his head, visibly exasperated, and the uncharacteristic reaction drew more startled laughter out of Sakura, laughter she only managed to bring under control when they were back in her office.

Fifty-eight hours later saw Sakura stumbling down the street, her arm slung over Sasuke’s waist while his was around her shoulders, laughing at something neither of them remembered at that point.

“Y’are,” Sakura wheezed, “such a bastard, Sasuke.”

“So’re you.” Sasuke slurred, trying to turn his head and glare at her, though all he managed was going cross-eyed, which sent Sakura into another round of hysterics. “Sto’ laughin’. S’annoying.”

“Iss been seven fuckin’ years.” Sakura scowled, swinging an uncoordinated hand in the direction of Sasuke’s face and managing to clip his chin instead. “Find ‘notha ‘djective.”

“Nah.” Sasuke slurred, stubborn and petulant, and slapped her hand away from his chin. “It makes you mad. Y’re the most gen- genuine when y’re mad.”

“’m too tired to figure out whadda fuck that’s s’posed ta mean.” Sakura grumbled, reclaiming her hand and raising it to her own mouth to muffle a yawn. “Where’s yer bed?”

Sasuke paused, actually stopping in the middle of the street which nearly threatened to pull Sakura off balance, a puzzled frown on his face, before he shrugged in a decidedly uncoordinated manner. “Fuck iffa know.”

Sakura snorted, almost actually losing her balance if not for Sasuke’s arm around her shoulders. “If I could walk by maself righ’ now, I woulda left ya here.”

“Shuddup.” Sasuke grunted, reaching out with the apparent intention of slapping his hand over Sakura’s mouth but catching her nose instead, which resulted in Sakura using the hand she had around his shoulders to smack his cheek. “Bed. I wanna sleep.”

“Bed. I ‘gree.” Sakura mumbled, frowned at the street stretching before them, and set off in the vague direction of her quarters. “Leggo.”

[Unbeknownst to the two ex-Konoha-nin, Karin and Yuki had followed them to the bar, having worried for the damage their respective idiots could cause should they decide to have another one of their spats when inebriated. Karin had also, displaying phenomenal foresight, purchased a camera from one of the travelling merchants, and it was that camera she was currently pointing at where Sakura and Sasuke were determinedly stumbling back to Sakura’s accommodation, alternating between sighing at the snippets of slurred conversation that reached them and snickering at the two’s state.

The moment the photos were developed, Yuki and Karin kept one each for personal (blackmail) purposes, then sent one to Tsunade, one to Naruto, and one to Kakashi, with a handwritten, intentionally unhelpful note of:

‘Good news – they can get along! All it took was half the contents of the bar :)’

The morning after Sakura and Sasuke’s impromptu booze-fest bonding session, neither of them were surprised when the morning calm was broken by a shrill scream and a dull thud coming from the direction of Sakura’s room, followed by what was unmistakeably Sasuke’s cursing and the sound of a window shattering. The fact that the two couldn’t make eye-contact for the remainder of Sasuke’s stay in Oto was also a source of great amusement for most of Oto’s higher-ranking shinobi.]

A full year in Oto passed both, quicker and slower than Sakura expected.

The civilian-shinobi school for the early-years they’d established was in full swing, as was the more specialised shinobi training facility for the genin-hopefuls. More and more civilian businesses were opening up in Oto and offering apprenticeships for those who chose not to pursue the shinobi career or simply wanted to earn some money on the side. The rebuilding efforts had also mostly finished, with only some small, cosmetic works still left to add.

In general, life was good.

After Sasuke’s visit, Karin became more of a friend than a co-worker, and the weird antagonism she’d held towards Yuki had also waned. Kazuya also became more of a reluctant mentor than a potential mutineer, though she knew that if anyone dared to point that out, the man would turn them into a pincushion and refuse to talk to her for days afterwards.

She still sent letters to Naruto and Sasuke, though most of the time, the letters were a way for them to bitch about their respective mentors – finding out that Naruto had been taken under Hyuuga Hiashi’s wing of all people had nearly made Sakura bust a lung from laughing too hard. Apparently, in the face of his daughter’s challenge to the Clan Head position and his nephew’s appointment to the highest position of authority in the Village, Hiashi had applied all of his – not inconsiderable, according to Naruto – bullheadedness to fight the Elders in his daughter’s stead. Then, he proceeded to throw his weight behind Naruto and Tenten’s project afterwards, though not without disparaging their complete lack of political knowhow and promptly deciding to do something about it. 

Sasuke seemed to be despairing over Tsunade’s teaching style and inability to remain sober for longer than a few days at a time, and Sakura and Naruto had no sympathy to spare, regularly and mercilessly mocking Sasuke’s delicate sensibilities.

Every time she sent a Chairo to the Leaf with a letter for Naruto, she also made sure to sent a letter to Anko and Genma, and Chojuro and Shikamaru, updating them and getting updated on any Village drama.

Mei, despite the way they had left things off the last time Sakura was in Kiri, had accepted the preliminary terms of the treaty Sakura had sent out. She was aware it was going to be more advantageous to Kiri in the first few months, but Sakura was also unwilling to make an enemy out of the Mizukage; the woman had survived the culling of bloodline limits while possessing two herself, then rose out of the ashes Yagura had left to take his place. Sakura did not wish to find out what it would be like to find herself on the woman’s bad side.

Gaara, too, had accepted the treaty terms, though when he announced in his latest letter – and, in the back of her mind, Sakura still wasn’t over the fact that she wasn’t just exchanging regular correspondence with kage, but that she was a kage of sorts too, now – that he’d be sending an ambassador to Oto to discuss the details of the treaty, Sakura had been expecting the worst.

Then, she nearly busted a lung when it was Temari that turned up at Oto’s metaphorical doorstep, signature ponytails shaved in favour of a flattering undercut, and her cocky smirk that nonetheless showed how glad she was to see Sakura firmly in place.

Sakura couldn’t have resisted the impulse to throw herself at the blonde in a long-overdue hug if she’d tried, and she didn’t try too hard.

“When Gaara told me you took over Otogakure of all places, I didn’t believe him.” Temari greeted once Sakura had released her, nodding respectfully at Karin who had followed her out of the office to investigate the report of someone stalking out the borders. “Then I read the missive with the proposed treaty you’d sent, and all my doubts were erased. You’ve mellowed out a little, but that was still undeniably your particular brand of ‘persuasion’.”

Sakura snorted, looping her arm through Temari’s and leading the older girl – and Karin – back to her office.

“The mellowing out was Karin’s doing.” She confessed, gesturing to the redhead. “She insisted on proofreading anything I was planning to send out once she saw my first draft.”

“The proposition of a treaty implies you give the other party some wiggle room, not declare ‘we’re allies now’.” Karin grumbled, pushing her glasses up with a huff as she nonetheless fell into step with them. “If you’d been any more assertive, you’d have been bullying the Kazekage.”

Sakura scowled, but Temari threw her head back and laughed.

“Yeah, that’s accurate.” She wheezed, wiping at a non-existent tear then shooting Karin a sharp smile. “Be glad you didn’t see her with our Elders. In one of the early treaty discussions, Hanae-san asked her if she was listening, and this one straight up went ‘no’.”

Karin sighed, levelling Sakura with a fairly long-suffering expression, and Temari snickered, clearly pleased with herself.

“Anyway,” Sakura said, trying to bring the conversation back to a topic that was less damaging to her pride and reputation, though she, too, couldn’t quite bite back the smile pulling on her lips, “what’s new with you? I’m loving the new haircut, by the way, it really suits you.”

“Thanks.” Temari shot back, making the gesture as if to flip her hair and drawing a quiet snort from Karin. “And I’m only passing by – I’m heading to Iwa to try hammering out a treaty with them, this time.”

“Iwa?” Sakura demanded, not at all faking the surprise she felt. “Is it…safe?”

“I can take care of myself.” Temari huffed, hefting the massive war-fan on her back meaningfully.

“I don’t doubt that.” Sakura hastened to reassure, because she had first-hand experience with just how destructive Temari could be. “I just didn’t realise it was a relationship Gaara planned on pursuing.”

“Iwa lost most of their Bomber Squad in the War. I guess he felt it was a good time to suggest improving relations.” Karin pointed out thoughtfully, then a mischievous glint flashed through her eyes and she shot Temari a sly look. “Besides, Temari-san has a squish on the Tsuchikage.”

Sakura blinked, not catching the significance of the word but catching Temari’s flush in response, and-

-huh.

Still-

“Kurotsuchi?” she checked, curious and intrigued, and Temari recovered enough to roll her eyes.

“Do you know any other Tsuchikage?” she demanded, and Sakura blinked again then felt the mirror to Karin’s sly smile grow on her face.

“I mean, I hope to god it’s not Onoki.” She shot back, and Temari stared at her, disgusted and disbelieving, then snorted and shook her head ruefully.

“You’re awful.” She deadpanned, sounding like she was questioning all the decisions that led her to this moment. “Why are we friends.”

“I ask myself that daily.” Karin replied with a commiserating sigh, then turned back to Sakura, eyebrow raised in judgement. “But honestly, how did you not realise? I saw them together once and I knew.”

“Oh, Sakura’s awful with people.” Temari explained, and both girls ignored Sakura’s indignant hey! at that. “It’s been almost four years and she still hasn’t realised Gaara had a crush on her.”

“No kidding?” Karin asked, grin growing as she looked from Temari to Sakura, but Sakura’s brain was busy blue-screening.

“Gaara?” she echoed, stopping mid-step, eyes wide and disbelieving. “Your brother, Gaara? Kazekage Gaara?”

“I’m starting to see what you meant.” Karin stage-whispered to Temari, exchanging a meaningful look with the other kunoichi, at which the other girl snorted.

“Mm. Wanna give me a tour while your esteemed leader gets her brain back online?”

“Sure. You hungry?”

“Always.”

It took Sakura a moment, but as she saw her friends’ backs get further and further away from her, her brain did eventually get back with the programme, and-

“-Oi! Wait up!”

The week Temari had spent in Oto had been a lot of fun, and Sakura had made sure to introduce her to Yoshiro and Yuki, weathering the other kunoichi’s teasing with ill grace. Not quite as revenge but definitely as a form of payback, she made sure Temari got to fight her, Yuki, Karin, and Juugo while she was visiting, and in the end, Temari had been too tired to tease her too much.

It probably shouldn’t have surprised her, but Karin and Temari had hit it off incredibly well, and Sakura had quickly had to get used to her ego taking a beating whenever the girls decided to team up and chose her as the target for their particular brand of ‘tough love’.

Then, a few weeks short of a year and a half since Sakura'd assumed control of Oto, another unexpected presence made itself known just outside the Village’s borders.

“Konan-san.” Sakura greeted the other kunoichi cautiously, Karin and Kazuya opting to stay behind the barrier of the genjutsu for the moment, out of Konan’s sight. “This is a surprise.”

Ame’s Angel looked far better now than she had when she’d appeared in the teahouse they’d cornered Itachi in, though there was a weary slant to her shoulders and she looked…absently amused, if Sakura was reading her right.

“This, however, isn’t.” Konan replied quietly, daintily gesturing at Sakura and the Sound headband around her neck. “When I heard that Oto was making steps to become a legitimate Village, I’d wondered who had taken over Orochimaru’s project. I should’ve guessed it would be you.”

“I don’t see how.” Sakura objected evenly, studying the other woman just as closely as she herself was being scrutinised. “There wasn’t exactly a precedent, and when you met me, I was still a Leaf shinobi.”

Konan arched an eyebrow, her amber eyes betraying just how little she believed Sakura’s defence.

“A Leaf shinobi using snake summons and genjutsu, half-way across the country on an unauthorised mission to track an S-Rank mass murderer, all to investigate a hunch.” She corrected archly and Sakura huffed a laugh, amused despite herself. When the circumstances of their first meeting were phrased like that, she supposed there was indeed some degree of precedent.

“…Touché.” She conceded, and Konan seemed to relax, as if she wasn’t sure how her assessment would go over, but too proud to take it back. “Is there anything I can help you with, Konan-san?”

Konan’s sharp eyes studied her for a beat, then she nodded slowly.

“I was informed Otogakure has taken to welcoming those who have nowhere else to go.” She said quietly, a small, bitter smile twisting her lips. “Much like Ame used to do.”

“Your information is correct.” Sakura confirmed hesitantly, not sure where the other woman was going with this.

“It so happens that I...find myself in such a situation.” Konan confessed, dropping eye contact in favour of glaring at the ground, and Sakura considered all she knew of the woman, Amegakure, the splinter villages popping up around Grass and Stone, and-

“Ame banned shinobi?” she hedged, and Konan’s gaze shot to hers, a frown creasing her brows, a fragile sort of bitterness in her eyes.

“Too many were killed in Obito’s War.” She replied, not questioning how Sakura had gotten to the root of the problem. “And their fealty to their God hadn’t been enough to keep Pein alive, and the God’s Angel failed to protect them from the consequences of Obito’s greed.”

“Even if Ame had stayed a shinobi Village, you wouldn’t have been welcome.” Sakura concluded quietly, reading between the lines of what the kunoichi wasn’t saying. A hint of sympathy lodged itself under her skin though she kept her expression carefully neutral as Konan’s frown only deepened, though she tellingly didn’t deny the claim.

“It’s curious.” Konan mused as she stared past Sakura’s shoulder, at the place where her Village was hidden by multiple overlapping layers of genjutsu and sealwork that made what Sakura knew to be a sprawling metropolis look like nothing more than rolling hills, rice fields and low-lying shrubbery. “I can sense two people standing at your shoulder, but I don’t know how to even begin to unravel the genjutsu they’re hidden behind.”

Intelligent amber eyes flickered to Sakura for a moment before she looked away again, seemingly concentrating on the genjutsu. “I know you were the anchor for the genjutsu that time I came to warn Itachi, but keeping a whole Village hidden under illusion is…”

“Konan-san.” Sakura cut the woman off, not sure whether it was an attempt at misdirection or Konan’s own reluctance at voicing what she needed. “What do you want from me?”

Konan’s eyes slid to hers again, and if she was surprised at Sakura’s directness, she didn’t show it.

“The same thing you wanted from this place, I suppose.” She sighed, then firmed her stance and met Sakura’s gaze head-on. “A new beginning.”

At the confirmation, Sakura smiled, a small, albeit genuine thing.

“You noticed the genjutsu. To allow the civilians to travel without issue, every citizen is tagged with a seal.” Sakura held up her own wrist to show the small tattoo-like seal of a snake twinning around a musical note. “Everyone carries one to avoid having to take down and rebuild the illusion whenever someone wants to come or go. Will you consent to having one, too?”

Konan stilled at the mention of a seal, her guard going up so quickly Sakura almost didn’t catch the moment the little expression in her eyes disappeared.

“Will I be able to enter without it?” she asked, voice even despite the clear wariness at the idea.

“Enter, yes, though you’d have to tear down all the layers.” Sakura confirmed, understanding the unease at having someone else’s seal on her body. “Understandably, I’d prefer if you didn’t do that.”

“Understandably.” Konan echoed, her voice as flat as Sakura’s at her worst. “What’s in the seal? I am, understandably, hesitant about accepting a seal I know nothing about.”

“Understandably.” Sakura parroted, wondering whether she was looking at what she would be like in twenty years. “It’s just genjutsu sight. Here.”

With a pulse of chakra, the seal on her wrist unravelled into sigils and kanji, and Konan studied it intently for a few seconds, then sighed, appearing resigned, and held out her arm.

“I consent.” She gritted out, though her unease hadn’t waned any, and Sakura paused.

After a beat, with a quiet sigh of her own, Sakura shook her head and rifled through her pouch, producing a single-use tag with the seal scribbled on it.

“No, you don’t.” she denied quietly, offering the paper-seal to the woman. “This is a single-use one. You only need to channel chakra into it and it’ll work much the same.”

If anything, Konan’s gaze sharpened, her wariness not fading in the slightest. “We don’t know each other. You don’t owe me anything."

The 'why are you being considerate?' was silent, but Sakura nonetheless heard it beneath her words. 

Keeping her hand extended despite the fact the other woman had made no move to take the seal from her yet, Sakura smiled sadly.

“You’re not someone I want to make an enemy of, Konan-san.” She replied honestly, and Konan paused, as if surprised at her admittance to the fact. “I would much rather you chose the seal voluntarily than because you feel like you have no other option.”

And Sakura waited until Konan carefully took the seal-tag from her then turned on her heel and passed through the genjutsu barrier, shooting Karin and Kazuya a small smile as she waited for Konan to catch up. When the kunoichi stepped through the barrier, her eyes widened upon spotting Kazuya, though she kept quiet, taking in the bustling Village behind them instead.

“Welcome to Otogakure, Konan-san.” Sakura greeted, drawing a snort from Karin, though she ignored it in favour of watching as the wariness in Konan’s gaze turned to something more contemplative.

“I hope it’ll help you find what you seek.” She finished, and Konan turned away from admiring Oto’s architecture to shoot her one of the smallest, yet nonetheless most genuine off smiles she’d ever received.

“Thank you.” she murmured, and the earlier wariness had turned to something warmer. More…hopeful. “I think it might.”

Two years and three months since her arrival to Oto, the day she’d dreamed of but never dared hope for finally arrived.

A pulse of familiar chakra shot through the seal on her upper arm, one she’d kept more for nostalgia’s sake than any hope of ever using it again. It startled her so badly that her pen paused in mid-air, half-way to the page she was meant to be signing and she stared at her clothed arm in disbelief. Then, when she felt that chakra pulse again, though not through her seal but outside the borders of the genjutsu around the Village, she dropped the pen altogether and shot to her feet.

She ignored Karin’s surprised ‘Sakura?’ and reached for the tag she’d placed just outside the main gates, letting the whirl of Hiraishin take her away. When she landed and her eyes fell on the group waiting mere metres from her landing spot, almost all of whom jumped at her sudden appearance, she felt a smile pull on her lips and tears gather in her eyes, and she didn’t hesitate when she launched herself into Genma’s waiting arms.

He caught her without issue, swinging her around easily despite the fact that she was twenty now not thirteen, and Sakura laughed even as a few tears fell down her cheeks when he set her down.

The sight of Shikamaru and Chojuro waiting just behind Genma, and Anko, leaning heavily on a crutch but there, made her laugh again, though it was decidedly wet-sounding now.

“What are you doing here?” She managed to choke out even as she threw herself at Shikamaru, reaching out an arm to pull Chojuro towards them as well, though she was more careful as she touched him, not sure how well his back had healed despite the many letters they’d exchanged over the two years.

“Immigrating.” Shikamaru mumbled into her hair, pulling at one of her braids as she drew away, a fond smile on his face as he simply looked at her for a few seconds.

“Be less blunt about it, you goof.” Chojuro chastised as he unwound his arms from Sakura’s waist and cuffed Shikamaru on the back of his head, shooting him a fondly-exasperated look.

Sakura rolled her eyes at the banter even as she stepped over to Anko and let her senpai pull her in for a bone-crushing hug with her free arm, and Sakura pretended not to notice how Anko wobbled, clearly not as stable on her feet as she wanted to make it seem.

“Who gave you the right to be taller than me, you brat.” Anko grumbled, drawing a startled laugh from Sakura as she carefully wrapped her arms around Anko’s shoulders and hid her face in her senpai’s neck.

“Sorry, senpai.” She mumbled, laughing again, unable and unwilling to fight the joy she felt at seeing her friends again. “Should’ve chopped me at the kneecaps when you had the chance.”

“I can still do it, don’t test me.” Anko shot back, and Sakura could hear the grin in her voice. “Didn’t visit even once in two years.”

“I was kinda busy, senpai.” Sakura replied, drawing back and sticking her tongue out at the woman. “You know, setting up a Village and everything.”

“Sakura?” That was Konan’s voice, and Sakura felt the way Anko tensed when she spotted the woman over her shoulder. “Karin said you left rather abruptly.”

Sakura let Anko go and stepped away, turning around to face Konan, noting the surprise on Shikamaru and Chojuro’s faces at the sight of the kunoichi and the carefully-masked wariness on Genma’s.

“I’m fine, Konan, thank you for checking.” She replied, smiling at the other woman, then gestured at the gathered group. “I just felt Genma knock and got…excited.”

“’Knock’.” Konan repeated, one manicured eyebrow rising in question, though her lip quirked in a small smile. “Not a threat, then?”

“Could be a threat.” Anko snapped, eyeing the other kunoichi warily, and Sakura watched as surprise, then recognition flashed across Konan’s face.

“I don’t doubt that.” Konan replied honestly, and Sakura felt more than saw Anko still, likely not having expected the response, nor the respect in Konan’s voice.

“Alright, let’s not start a scene.” Sakura clapped, drawing all eyes to her. She reached into her pouch and offered the single-use seal tags to the group, then gestured for Konan to lead the way. “Channelling chakra into the paper will allow you to bypass the genjutsu.”

She saw the surprise on Genma’s face when he expanded the seal, and she sidled up to her old partner, nudging him with her elbow. “Yes?” she prompted, drawing a huffed laugh from the man as he held up the paper.

“Uzushio sealwork?” he checked, sending her a measured look. Sakura only grinned and winked, putting a finger to her lips, before a thought struck her and she turned, walking backwards, to address the rest of the group.

“Oh, please take off your headbands while you walk through the Village.” She instructed, and Chojuro and Shikamaru both shot her a sharp look, though Konan simply hummed, as if pleased. “It’s nothing personal; you’ll just have more anonymity that way and less scrutiny from the civilians without them.”

“Is giving foreign visitors anonymity really wise?” Chojuro questioned, more contemplative than challenging, and Sakura carefully kept her smile even as she felt it grow sharper.

“Having the headband off marks you as someone who’s been invited in rather than someone who’s tried to break in.” Yuki explained, appearing at Anko’s side and wrapping an arm around her waist in greeting, pulling her in for a half-hug even as he smirked at Chojuro’s startle. “So be a good boy and do what you’re told, Cho-chan.”

“I see you haven’t changed.” Shikamaru huffed, though his eyes were laughing even as he obediently reached up and began tugging at the knots that secured his headbands to his neck.

“Change is overrated.” Yuki shot back as he released Anko and ambled up to Sakura and tugged on one of her braids even though they'd seen each other that morning. Then, he flash-stepped to Konan’s side and Sakura stifled a laugh at the disbelief she felt radiate from Genma and Shikamaru when Yuki wrapped his arm around Konan’s waist much like he’d done to Anko, pressed an obnoxious kiss to the kunoichi’s cheek and didn’t get smited.

“This is why Kazuya-san doesn’t allow you in the office when he’s there.” Konan said, her voice perfectly deadpan even though Sakura had spent enough time around the woman by this point to hear the undertone of amusement in her words.

“Also because he’s got a stick up his ass the size of Wind Country.” Yuki added with a grin, pulling away enough to walk comfortably, though tellingly not removing his arm from Konan’s waist.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll tell him you want to spar again!” Sakura called from where she’d fallen into step with Shikamaru and Chojuro, and Yuki glanced back at her with a pout.

“I had nightmares after that, pinky-chan.” he mock-whined, and Sakura snorted, having been one of the few to witness the spar between the two. “Do you know how hard it is to give me nightmares?”

Sakura snickered, then, catching Shikamaru’s curious glance, felt some of her mirth leave her when she remembered Asuma. “Ah, Shika, uh, don’t freak out, but we strongly suspect Kazuya-san is related to Kakuzu.”

Shikamaru couldn’t quite hide his wince, though it was Genma who spoke.

“How many more missing-nin can we expect to find in this Village of yours, kid?” he asked, and when Sakura paused to actually think about it, he sighed. “This isn’t the confident ‘none’ I was expecting to hear!”

“I don’t wanna lie to you, Gen.” Sakura replied honestly, then mused, thoughtful. “Though, technically, none of them are missing-nin anymore?”

“See, it’s these kinds of ‘technically’s that made Tsunade hesitate between you and Naruto when asked who gave her the bigger headache.” Shikamaru declared, his earlier apprehension carefully masked, a lazy sort of amusement replacing it instead, and he laughed when Sakura laid her free hand over her heart and smiled proudly.

“Of course, you’d be proud of that.” Anko huffed, and when Sakura glanced back at her senpai, the woman rolled her eyes, visibly trying to bite back her own grin.

“You’re proud of that, so of course I am.” Sakura shot back, jumping when she felt Shikamaru wrap his arm around her hips and Chojuro loop his arm through hers.

She glanced between both boys – young men now, really, and that was a weird thought – confused, and Chojuro smiled, the corner of his lips quirking up and revealing a single sharp tooth. It was the same smile he’d flashed her during the second Chunin Exams, the ones her and Shikamaru had had a hand in organising, and it had been, in hindsight, the moment she’d first realised she found the swordsman attractive.

Now though, having it directed at her not from a shy sixteen-year-old but a much more confident, grown up twenty-two-year-old version, the expression was less endearing and more sly, and Sakura had to look away and fight a blush, valiantly ignoring Anko’s quiet cackles behind her.

“Did you mean it?” She asked instead, directing the question more at Shikamaru, since he felt somewhat safer to look at than Chojuro right at that moment. Though, when Shikamaru glanced down at her, eyebrow raised and a small smirk quirking his lips, Sakura had to rethink that assessment. Still, she didn’t let herself look away even as she felt her face warm and clarified. “That you’re ‘immigrating’?”

“I did, yeah.” Shikamaru replied quietly, glancing up at Chojuro, an expression Sakura wasn’t sure how to read on his face, though Chojuro simply nodded.

Huh. That would take some getting used to, too. The fact that she didn’t simply know what Shikamaru and Chojuro meant anymore, that they had inside jokes she wasn’t privy to now and a familiarity she had missed out on over the last two years – it didn’t hurt, exactly, but it was an odd thought nonetheless.

“Chojuro, too.” Shikamaru clarified, glancing down at her again, that same measured expression on his face, and Sakura blinked then smiled brightly, turning to Chojuro again.

“I’m glad.” She said honestly, and both boys seemed to relax, and that was a reaction she’d have to analyse later, without an audience, because she could feel Anko’s eyes on her back and she wasn’t too keen on the idea of giving her senpai more ammunition for teasing her.

Then, Yoshiro came barrelling out of the Academy building, his provisional genin teammates hot on his heels, both sporting neon-dyed clothes and smelling of very strong, artificial citrus.

“Hi nee-san, bye nee-san!” Yoshiro yelled as he ran past, giggling all the while, his teammates managing a breathless ‘hello, Sakura-sama!’ as they chased after him.

Sakura just laughed, fond and amused, though she cut off when she caught sight of Shikamaru and Chojuro’s wide-eyed expressions.

“Was that Yoshiro-kun?” Chojuro asked, looking dumbfounded, staring from the door the kids had ran out of to Sakura and back again.

Shikamaru though shook his head and sighed dramatically. “How many kids did you adopt, Sakura?” he asked rhetorically, sounding and looking beyond exasperated.

“Only the one.” Sakura swore, though she didn’t bother fighting back her grin. “And he’s had me, Karin, and Yuki as role-models for the last two years, so he’s a delight.”

It was silent for a few seconds as everyone absorbed her words and Sakura was trying as hard as she could not to burst out laughing. Then, Yuki’s cackles broke the silence, and with it, whatever remained of Sakura’s composure. Their laughter drowned out Shikamaru’s snort and whatever Chojuro’s response to her declaration would’ve been, and in the privacy of her own mind, Sakura could admit that the few tears that she let slip weren’t just because of mirth.

She was happy.

Two months later, however, she was crying for a different reason when Yuki stood in her office, bags packed and a small, sad smile on his face.

“That was the deal, pinky-chan.” He reminded her gently, and Sakura shook her head, not in the mood for reason. “Mei-sama gave me two years. I've already overstayed my welcome, and especially now that Cho-chan is here, I’ve gotta go.”

“Went too fast.” Sakura mumbled, hiding her face in his shoulder and refusing to release her white-knuckled grip from the back of his shirt. “What if I tell Mei I’m kidnapping you?”

“I think you told me once that you don't want to make an enemy out of Mei.” Yuki replied, laughter in his eyes though it was more muted than usual. “So, don't. And not over me, certainly.”

“I could take her.” Sakura grumbled, though even to her ears it sounded whiny and petulant. She took a deep breath and stepped back, releasing Yuki’s shirt and trying to hide the way she felt like a lost little girl again. “What about Konan?”

Yuki’s smile faded slightly and he lifted a shoulder in a carefully-nonchalant shrug. “She has options. If she chooses to go with me, I’ll be glad. But in the end, it’s like you and shadow-boy.”

“You want it to be her choice.” Sakura concluded, and Yuki nodded, a mutual understanding passing between them.

“Well,” Sakura mused, reaching out and grabbing Yuki’s hand and swinging it between them childishly, before she met his eyes, “whatever ends up happening, thank you for the last two years. I could not have done this without you.”

“Sure you could have.” Yuki denied, rolling his eyes, though they both knew it was for show. “You’re capable of so much more than you think, pinky-chan.”

Sakura hummed, neither agreeing nor denying the assertion, and Yuki used the grip she still had on his hand to squeeze her fingers and draw her attention back to him.

“Do me a favour, though?” He asked, unusually serious when she met his gaze, and he waited until she nodded before he continued. “Let people help you.”

When Sakura tilted her head, puzzled, he elaborated. “Otogakure doesn’t need as much constant attention now as it did at the beginning. You’ve successfully decentralised and delegated most responsibilities, and Kazuya and Karin can help around the office. Take breaks. Vacations. And remember to spend time with shadow-boy and Cho-chan, because they made a big commitment, following you here.”

“I know.” Sakura sighed, dropping eye-contact in favour of staring at the cuff of Yuki’s sleeve as she gave voice to the worries that had taken root in her mind since her boyfriends’ arrival. “But it’s been two years. We’ve grown up a lot in that time. There’s… there’s a chasm now.”

“You can close that chasm, Sakura.” Yuki replied, soft but stern. “But it will only grow if you continue avoiding them.”

Sakura pulled back, startled, accidentally pulling her hand out of Yuki’s grip. “We share an apartment; I can’t avoid them even if I wanted to.”

Yuki didn’t say anything, but his expression told her just how little he believed her claim. Sighing again, Sakura gave up the pretence and nodded, stepping close again and pulling Yuki in for one last desperate hug before she let him go and tried for a smile.

“Safe travels.” She bid, wiping at the tears that threatened to fall. “And I’ll talk to Konan; no matter how noble, you deserve to be happy, too.”

Yuki smiled, small but grateful, and then, before she tried to think of other ways to keep him in Oto, he was gone.

Sakura had always been stubborn. That was what first set her on her path to the library to research genjutsu after Wave. That was what contributed to her quick rise through the ranks. That was what also allowed her to take up Orochimaru’s legacy despite the various naysayers and her own better judgement.

But she could also take advice, particularly if it came from someone she trusted as implicitly as Yuki.

Which was what led her to take the day off, leaving Kazuya and Karin in the office and trusting them to keep the Village running as she sought out Shikamaru and Chojuro.

She found them sparring on one of the training grounds closest to the outskirts of the Village, and she masked her chakra and scent as she approached, opting to watch for a moment before she interrupted.

She’d been chagrined to find out that, although Chojuro’s spine injury had been mostly healed, it made him unable to wield Hiramekarei the way he used to. And while she’d missed out on his immediate reaction to the news, Chojuro hadn’t seemed to hold a grudge or any bitterness when he’d cheerfully explained that he’d traded the rights to the legendary sword for permission to follow her to Oto.

Watching him now, armed in only a katana against Shikamaru’s chakra blades he’d inherited from Asuma, Sakura wouldn’t have known he’d suffered a debilitating spinal injury if she hadn’t seen him bed-ridden and depressed immediately afterwards.

And then, as Shikamaru blocked a swipe from Chojuro’s katana with his chakra blade, twisting his wrist to keep Chojuro from withdrawing the blade, he grinned.

“Gotcha.”

And, as Sakura watched, the shadow beneath Chojuro’s feet extended, showing he was indeed caught in Shikamaru’s Shadow-Possession, and the point of origin was the underside of Shikamaru’s knuckle duster.

He did it, she thought distantly, mind flashing back to their first mission in Suna, the preliminary, hastily-scribbled notes for the theory of the jutsu she was now witnessing, as well as the immediate aftermath of Asuma’s death and the determination she’d seen in Shikamaru’s eyes then when he spoke of honouring his sensei.

Now, as she forced more chakra into her eyes, she realised that the black layer on the side of the chakra blade she’d thought to be paint or a new grip, was, in fact Shikamaru’s shadow. He finished the jutsu.

“Mm, no you didn’t.” Chojuro denied, smiling slyly, and then he spat a fist-sized water bullet straight at Shikamaru’s face.

With a curse, Shikamaru disengaged, only barely saving his face from the chakra-charged projectile, and his shadow lashed out again, though Chojuro had been quick to put distance between them, laughing all the while.

Sakura felt a smile pulling at her lips, unbidden, and quietly unsealed her own naginata and crouched, waiting for the opportune moment.

And then, as Shikamaru and Chojuro drew closer again, Chojuro lifting the katana and making a swipe that would’ve likely ended the match in his favour, Sakura flash-stepped between them and caught the blade on the staff of her naginata.

“Surprise.” She grinned, delighting in Chojuro’s shocked expression and Shikamaru’s startle she could see out of the corner of her eye. Then, she reversed her grip and drove the butt of her naginata into Chojuro’s side, making him release a startled ‘oof’ as he staggered away. “Let’s dance!”

“You ready to talk now?” Shikamaru mumbled as they lay sprawled on their backs on the ground a few hours later, all three of them covered in bruises and with the pleasant ache in their muscles that came from a really good workout, though they'd managed to wash the grime away in the nearby stream.

“Yeah.” Sakura murmured, her head resting on Chojuro’s extended arm, one hand holding Shikamaru’s, the other idly tracing the scar on her abdomen over her shirt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to avoid you. I think I just needed time to adjust.”

“I think we all did.” Chojuro mused, and he curled his arm so he could gently pet her hair. “Did you realise you were unconsciously avoiding us, or did Karin-san or Konan-san talk to you?”

“Yuki did, actually.” Sakura admitted with a sheepish chuckle, drawing a snort from Shikamaru. “And I am sorry.”

“It’s fine, Sakura, you’re here now.” Shikamaru assured her quietly, squeezing her fingers lightly.

“How are you finding Oto?” She asked after a beat, closing her eyes and simply enjoying Chojuro’s fingers gently carding through her hair.

“You did something incredible.” Chojuro said immediately, and Sakura could tell he meant it. “The Village is simultaneously like a mix of Suna, Kiri, and Konoha, yet nothing like them at the same time.”

“What inspired the combined shinobi-civilian school?” Shikamaru asked before she could reply, and he sounded thoughtful. “And the later graduation age?”

“Were you ready for what being chunin entailed when you were twelve?” Sakura shot back, more rhetorical than genuinely curious. She knew he hadn’t been – none of them were. “It might be controversial to keep them from the Chunin Exams till they’re fifteen, but if it keeps them alive, I don’t care.”

“You were a jounin at fourteen.” Chojuro pointed out, and Sakura wasn’t sure whether he was playing devil’s advocate or actually arguing, but, still-

“I was. But not everyone has a Genma to keep them tethered.” She sighed, then voiced the thought that had prompted the decision, and one she’d used to convince Kazuya when he’d understandably questioned the wisdom of her choice. “In hindsight, I can recognise that I was a brat at fourteen. I may have had the skills, but imagine if I had been given a genin team? I was barely mature enough to be trusted with my own wellbeing, much less that of a team depending on me.”

“You got the mission requirement though.” Shikamaru mused, and Sakura relaxed when she realised they were digging because they were simply curious, and she let go of the last traces of her defensiveness.

“Mm, through loopholes and bent rules.” She hummed, then sighed, releasing Shikamaru’s hand to stretch her arms over her head and crack her back. “The thing nobody tells you about the mission requirement is that it’s there as a safeguard. It’s for you to gain experience. To earn the promotion outside of the Exams. The Exams should be a simple formality, not the basis upon which you earn the promotion.”

“I see you’ve been doing some introspection.” Chojuro laughed quietly, but he too sounded contemplative.

“Kazuya-san, once you get past his charming personality, is an incredible resource, and he doesn’t tolerate hypocrisy.” She admitted, smiling wryly. “The reality check was rather quick and fairly brutal. And I’m glad for it, because afterwards, even if we fought on everything else, there was always one thing we agreed on.”

When Shikamaru hummed, inquisitive, she pushed herself into a sitting position and turned so she could look at both boys more easily.

“Rather than the number of child prodigies, we will mark our Village’s success by the number of shinobi who get to grow old and retire.” She revealed, torn between amusement and regret when both Shikamaru and Chojuro startled visibly. Then, she grew more serious, a vicious edge in her voice when she added, “And I don’t care if A or Kurotsuchi think that makes us weak – I have three dozen of Orochimaru’s old experiments who would literally kill for the chance at life that these genin will get, and I am not against unleashing them on naysayers.”

“Maybe don’t word it like that when you speak to Kurotsuchi.” Shikamaru advised, though he sounded like he was biting back laughter.

“And what role do you see us in?” Chojuro asked when Shikamaru lost the battle with his laughter and dissolved into quiet chuckles, much to Sakura’s confusion.

She switched her focus to Chojuro at his question, feeling a frown pull at her brows as she thought it over, wondering whether it was too soon to voice what she’d briefly discussed with Kazuya.

“We know you better than to assume you wouldn’t have thought of something, so tell us.” Shikamaru encouraged once he got his laughter under control and caught whatever was on her face, and Sakura rolled her eyes, but obliged.

“I would like Cho as a kenjutsu tutor for shinobi who want to specialise or brush up on skills, and a full-time jounin-sensei once the current batch graduates.” She explained, cheered when, instead of immediately opposing, Chojuro looked surprised but thoughtful. “And Shika, I want you to start shadowing Kentarou-san, the current Chunin Commander; his wife’s pregnant so he’ll be going on paternity soon. Then, I’d like you both to coordinate with Juugo; I think I’m close to figuring out how to undo the Cursed Seals on the failed experiments, and I’ll need a concrete plan for how to smoothly integrate them back into Village life.”

When she tuned back in and realised she’d unconsciously entered lecture-mode, she blinked at having two blank faces directed at her.

“…You can always say no.” she told them slowly, unsure what had prompted the reaction. “But you asked for my thoughts, so…” she ended with a shrug, looking away, somewhat embarrassed.

“I think it’s on us that we’re still surprised.” Chojuro muttered, clearly an aside meant for Shikamaru, though he wasn’t making any effort to keep her from hearing it.

“Sakura,” Shikamaru called, and when she looked at him, he was smiling, though there was still that weird glint of wonder in his eyes, “that sounds great.”

When she simply stared at them, not sure how genuine the claim was, Chojuro leaned up to grab her arm and pulled her back down so she was lying between them once more.

“We thought you might’ve been avoiding us partly because you didn’t have a place for us here.” He murmured, his mouth much closer to her ear than before and Sakura shivered when his breath puffed over her neck. “We should’ve known better.”

“You...don’t sound mad.” Sakura posited hesitantly, and Shikamaru snorted, turning on his side so he could see at her better.

“I can’t speak from Chojuro, but I’m the furthest from mad I could be.” Shikamaru grinned, still boyishly attractive despite the two years that had passed, and something that felt a bit like a lightbulb lit up in Sakura’s mind.

“I’m glad.” She managed, feeling the way Chojuro’s chest shook against her back as he laughed, his hand sliding to her hip seemingly to steady himself, and she was suddenly made aware of the fact that the three of them were lying very close to each other on one of the furthest fields from the Village.

Over the years, she’d been reliably informed she was slow on the uptake when it came to these things, and she supposed, most times, that was fairly accurate. Now, however, with a fond heart after two years’ absence, mere inches separating her and her boys, and nothing as overwhelming as an imminent war to worry about, was not one of those times.

“Can I kiss you?” she blurted out, startling Shikamaru if the way his eyes widened was anything to go by, but then his earlier grin morphed into something softer, more private, and she didn’t even have it in herself to feel embarrassed at her bluntness.

“I would definitely not be mad about that, either.” Shikamaru replied, his voice considerably lower than she was used to, and between that and Chojuro’s fingers burning five points of heat into her hip, Sakura finally realised the other, more subconscious reason she’d been avoiding the boys.

Well. Time to remedy that, she supposed.

What could’ve been five or fifty minutes later, Sakura couldn’t tell, she’d lost track somewhere around Shikamaru losing his Clan jacket and Chojuro taking off her yukata, she watched as Chojuro finally pulled away from Shikamaru, cheeks flushed and glasses skewed. She snickered when Shikamaru whined as Chojuro’s sharp tooth caught his lip, and Shikamaru didn’t even look at her when he raised a hand to flip her off, which only made her laugh harder and lose her balance, falling into the brunet and burying her face in his shoulder.

“I think,” Chojuro managed, breathless and hoarse, and he cleared his throat before he continued, “that we should stop or move this elsewhere if we don’t want to get accused of public indecency.”

“Goddamn voice of reason.” Shikamaru groaned, thumping his head back against the grass, and Sakura didn’t remember whether it was her or Chojuro who’d pulled off his hairband, but she was grateful, because Shikamaru with his hair splayed around his head and jacket off definitely looked the least put-together of the three of them.

“As much as I second the sentiment,” Sakura got out between her giggles, voice muffled against Shikamaru’s shoulder before she followed Chojuro’s lead and raised herself up and into a somewhat more sat-up position, “I’m afraid he has a point.”

Shikamaru glared at them both from where he was still stubbornly lying with his back on the ground, and Sakura was pretty sure that if he were any less proud, he’d have been pouting. Then, in a voice which was just a touch too breathless to be petulant, he declared: “You both suck.”

“I mean,” Sakura hedged as she pushed herself to her feet, stumbling slightly when her knees proved to be more jelly than bone than she’d expected. She considered biting her tongue, but she’d been all-but raised by Anko and Yuki, and for all that innuendo rarely affected her, she still knew them.

“I could.” She finished, and waited for the fallout.

From where she stood, she had a prime view of the way Shikamaru’s lightly pink face turned scarlet and Chojuro choked and staggered where he, too, had been trying to get up.

In the face of their shock, Sakura could only laugh, buoyed by this unexpected power and the joy of finally, finally having her boys with her.

“Catch up!” she called, letting the whirl of Hiraishin take her to her apartment, her laughter drowning out Shikamaru’s indignant call of her name and Chojuro’s spluttering.

“Wow.”

“Seconded.”

“No, I mean, wow.”

“Cho, I think you managed the impossible.”

“Made him speechless?”

“Mm. And- ha!”

“Why are you laughing?!”

“You- you literally m-managed to fuck his brai-!”

“-Don’t be crude!”

“I think now’s a little late for worrying about being crass, hm?”

“You’re awful.”

“I’m right.”

“…Yeah, you are.”

“Ha! I knew you’re proud of it!”

“…You both still suck.”

If Sakura had thought that her first two years in Oto had passed quickly, the next three went by in a blur.

Suddenly, she was staring down her twenty-third birthday and at an invitation to attend a multinational Chunin Exam as the Otokage.

“When did this happen?” she asked confusedly, tracing over the words ‘Otokage’ with her eyes, unable to believe what she was seeing.

“Probably around the time you established treaties with all major Villages?” Karin offered absently, too busy reviewing the lists of potential genin they could send to pay Sakura’s mini crisis too much attention.

“And made Oto into one of the biggest hotspots for international trade despite physically not existing on the map?” Kazuya added, flipping through the rest of the missive which detailed where exactly the various stages of the Exams would be held. “Did you even read this?”

“No, she read ‘Otokage’ and freaked out.” Karin replied, pulling out genin profiles and mission and progress reports. “Why? Anything of interest?”

“They want Oto to host the final combat section.” Kazuya informed flatly, and that was enough to pull Sakura out of her silent contemplation of the invitation from Mei and pay attention to what was happening around her.

“What?”

“’Should the Otokage be willing, it was deemed to be to everyone’s benefit if the third stage of the Exams were to be hosted in Otogakure’.” Kazuya read out, and Karin snorted even as Sakura was once again reeling.

“Deemed by whom?” the redhead demanded, stepping up to read over Kazuya’s shoulder. “That penmanship is too nice to be A’s or the Tsuchikage’s, though not nice enough to be Terumi’s. Recognise it?”

And Sakura only had to glance at the paper to spot Gaara’s careful writing, even and somewhat boxy, and always reading more like prose than simple letters.

“That’s Gaara’s.” she confirmed, then brought her hands up to her face and patted her cheeks roughly, trying to snap out of the weird daze she’d fallen into. “Alright, so. They want us to host it, but we have wiggle room. What do you think? Should we do it?”

“I don’t see why not.” Karin replied thoughfully, studying the profiles intently. “Most of them are between fifteen and seventeen; if the competition is like during your Chunin Exams, they’ll destroy everyone. Not to mention your kid will be participating.”

“You’ll have a good showing.” Kazuya agreed, glancing at the profiles absently. “The final stage usually brings merchants, too, so that’ll boost trade.”

“Post-War stability likely means bigger than usual numbers, so we’ll get a good look at what the other Villages have to offer.” Karin added, glancing at Kazuya as she spoke, and he nodded his agreement.

“Alright.” Sakura sighed, scrubbing her hands down her face one final time, then pulling out a blank sheet of paper with Oto’s insignia. “We have a month until the first stage. Let’s prep.”

“Are we going for a theme?” Karin pressed, and Sakura reflected that this was why the girl got along with her and Shikamaru so well. “What’s our angle?”

At that, Sakura allowed her hesitation to fade to the background and smirked.

“To make everyone who ever doubted Oto eat their words.”

"No guards, Otokage-sama?"

Three months to the day Sakura had received the missive requesting that Oto host the final stage of the Chunin Exams, she was surrounded by other kage, in the tallest row of the viewing gallery Sakura had had constructed once she’d accepted the responsibility of hosting the final stage waiting for the first match to begin.

She’d been surprised upon finding out that all of the kage would be arriving for the day of the fights, guards in tow, but Kazuya had been quick to explain.

“They’re casing you out.” He’d informed her, sounding amused and almost exasperated, as if disappointed that she hadn’t figured it out herself. “There hasn’t been a ‘new’ established Village in fifty years.”

“Orochimaru established Oto.” Sakura reminded the man, and he was definitely exasperated at that.

“As a village, yes, but not as a Village.” He stressed, and though the distinction amused her, it made sense, in a way.

Focusing back on the present, she smiled at Gaara’s mild question, noticing but ignoring the wave of intrigue that passed through the other kage and their guards once the question registered, and lightly tapped the arm of her chair, just the barest drop of chakra in her finger.

As if summoned, Shikamaru melted out of her shadow, coming to stand at her left side, Asuma’s chakra blade held loosely in his hand. 

"You called?" He inquired, perfectly bland, eyebrow arched, the very picture of nonchalance, but Sakura could see the edge of amusement in his eyes that told her he was enjoying himself. 

Wordlessly, Sakura turned to Gaara, ignoring Shikamaru’s question for the time being.

"Does this answer your question?" She replied, equally mildly, though she let her mirth show just for a moment.

Though they'd all seen a lot of weird shit over their lives, Gaara's eyes were ever so slightly wider than before, and Sakura was certain she'd heard Kurotsuchi let out a quiet curse at Shikamaru’s appearance.

Seeing Shikamaru materialise out of her shadow that first time had been jarring, but she’d gotten used to it. Now, seeing the reactions of the other kage, she belatedly realised just how truly unnerving it looked. 

"Quite." Gaara confirmed with only the slightest delay and Sakura allowed herself satisfied smile. 

A quick glance to her right revealed Neji's eyes were still wide, while the Raikage was staring at Shikamaru with visible wariness. 

Good enough, she decided, looking down at the arena where Yoshiro was warming up.

The real show was about to begin, after all.

Watching Yoshiro smash his Iwagakure opponent using a combination of his kusarigama, his father’s Water Mirrors, and genjutsu, had made Sakura almost unbearably proud and vindictively satisfied.

“That felt familiar.” Neji mused, eyes trained on the Water Mirror that still remained while Karin called the match.

“My sister would likely agree.” Gaara nodded, and it was only then that Sakura realised that Yoshiro’s match had accidentally ended up looking a lot like her own Chunin Exams match in the final round.

“Completely incidental, I assure you.” She laughed, then chanced a glance Mei, who was watching Yoshiro with a bittersweet expression. “Although it might have something to do with Yoshiro being my ward.”

“You let one of your kids be adopted by a foreign kage?” A demanded, and it took Sakura a moment to realise that he was speaking to Mei.

“She wasn’t a kage yet.” Mei replied, short and to the point and mercilessly cutting off any further questions.

“Did you change the graduation age?” Neji asked after a beat, his eyes flickering over all of Oto’s candidates.

“No.” Sakura denied with a shake of her head and wondered whether Kazuya had expected how smug she’d feel, which was why he’d refused to act as her ‘guard’. “The graduation age’s still twelve. But all my genin have a three-year period where they’re not allowed to advance, no matter how good they are.”

“Why?” Kurotsuchi blurted, leaning across A’s not inconsiderable bulk to all-but gawk at her. “It’s peacetime.”

“Precisely.” Sakura smiled, trying not to let her bitterness seep into her voice too much. “So they have the time to be kids. And get to know the people who make up the Village they’re serving.”

“You may have left Leaf, but you’re still a tree-hugger at heart.” Kurotsuchi sneered, and, yeah, Sakura could see why Temari would like the girl. “You’re weakening your Village for no reason.”

“You don’t have to agree with my decisions, Tsuchikage.” She replied, and her refusal to rise to the jab made Kurotsuchi frown. “But I became jounin at fourteen. In hindsight, I was not ready for that promotion, and would have benefitted from more time to enjoy not being an adult. If I can give that time to my genin, then I will, even if they might grump at me a bit.”

“As is your right as kage.” Mei declared, and Sakura did her best not to jump at the show of support; while their relations had considerably improved after Yuki’s return to Kiri and the fact that Mist had gained Suigetsu and Konan as permanent residents, Sakura didn’t think that her stunt with Yoshiro and Chojuro would be so easily forgotten. “Kiri has also been thinking of abolishing early graduation.”

Sakura smiled at the other woman, tentative but warm, and felt her smile grow when Mei smiled back, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

“Matsukawa Ai of Team Chojuro and Tanaka Seijuuro of Team Geode, enter the barrier, please!” Karin called, gesturing for the two kunoichi to come into the centre of the barrier that kept all chakra and physical attacks from reaching the audience.

At the mention of Chojuro’s name, Mei’s smile grew, and Sakura looked away, smiling encouragingly at Ai when she glanced up at the kage’s balcony.

“Little Cho-chan all grown up.” Mei mused quietly, and Sakura wondered whether she was aware she’d spoken. “Clever move, making him a sensei.”

“He’s got the temperament for it.” Sakura replied, because really, Chojuro had taken to the role of sensei like a fish to water. “And he spent the last eight years keeping me and Shikamaru in line – looking after three genin is a paid vacation in comparison.”

“Yes, I suppose it would be.” Mei laughed, a familiar glint of mischief in her eyes that Sakura hadn’t realised how much she’d missed from her interactions with the woman until it was back. “You always were a handful.”

“Between you and me, Mei-sama,” Shikamaru murmured, speaking up for the first time since he’d appeared from her shadow, “she still is.”

Mei’s bell-like laughter and Sakura’s sigh of relief at the sound were drowned out by Karin’s announcement of Ai’s victory.

“Nee-san.”

Sakura looked up from the papers strewn on her desk, a smile growing on her face at the sight of Yoshiro standing in the doorway. 

To her great amusement and Shikamaru and Chojuro’s incomprehension, the letters between her, Sasuke, and Naruto had continued over the years, despite Naruto’s awful penmanship, her generally busy schedule and Sasuke’s overall charming disposition. Which was how she knew that Sasuke was currently in Suna, bemoaning the sweltering heat and the apparent incompetence of Suna’s medics, while Naruto – and she even considered attending – would be getting married to Tenten at the end of the summer.

Genma, Anko, and Yuki had also made a point of regularly updating her on what was going on in their lives, especially as it’d been over a year since she’d seen any of them face-to-face. Genma and Aoba’s adopted son was not only finally of Academy age, but also would be getting Anko as his class sensei, something both Anko and Genma had found a mix of hilarious and horrifying, though Sakura could only laugh as she imagined the contents of the future letters she’d be receiving. The letter from Mist, informing her that Yuki and Konan were not only still together, but also that Konan was pregnant had made her happy beyond belief. Though the letter from Mei, tagged onto the end of the one from Yuki, where the Mizukage blamed her for being the indirect cause of the headache she’d be experiencing as soon as the yet-unnamed kid would be old enough to live up to his father’s reputation, had made her burst out laughing to the point that her stomach had begun to hurt.

Shikamaru had also maintained contact with his old genin team. He’d been so happy he’d cried at the news that Choji, who hadn’t been able to take over the Akimichi Clan after his father due to the career-ending injury he’d suffered after the fight with Kisame, would instead be taking over the restaurant businesses the Akimichi Clan was also famed for, and expanding to other Nations. Ino, however, had done precisely what she’d told Sakura she was going to do almost a decade previous – despite being half-blind after the fight with Kisame, she’d found a way to make the Yamanaka jutsu work, and quietly took over the Yamanaka Clan. Then, Hinata had taken over the Hyuuga, dissolved the ‘Main’ and ‘Branch’ Houses, coordinated with Neji and Genma to remove the Caged Bird seal and replace it with something that sealed the dojutsu on all Clan members and lacked the torture trigger, then promptly stepped down and nominated her sister to the post. Once Hinata’s Head-ship had been deemed the shortest yet most impactful rule of any Hyuuga Clan Head, Ino had swooped in, whisked Hinata away for a ‘mission’, secretly eloped, then came back with matching rings and Hinata introducing herself as Yamanaka Hinata.

Shikamaru had laughed when he’d read them Ino’s thanks for the inspiration, and her proud gloating at the fact that the gossip didn’t die down for almost three months after that.

All in all, it soothed the ache in her chest caused by missing the last eight years of her friends’ lives, and quieted the little voice in her head that called her selfish for leaving.

“Yes, Yoshiro-kun?” She asked, focusing on the present and smiling apologetically at the teen. Yoshiro, more than used to her spacing out at this point, simply smiled and stepped into her office, closing the door behind him.

“My eighteenth birthday is tomorrow.” He said quietly, evenly, no longer the rambunctious twelve-year-old pranking his teammates every other week, but the product of being raised by some truly terrifying people, herself included, over the last eight years.

“It is.” Sakura agreed, in that same quiet, unassuming tone they’d both learned from Chojuro. “Have you finally decided what you’d like?”

Yoshiro shrugged carefully, slipping into the seat opposite her desk. “You always give good gifts.” He deflected, and Sakura huffed. “Always things I never would’ve thought to ask for, too.”

“I’m glad.” She replied, meaning it. “Is there something you wanted, or just stopped by to say hi?”

“Chojuro and Shikamaru have been acting weird around me.” Yoshiro blurted, then flushed, as if embarrassed by his outburst, and Sakura couldn’t help but laugh and reach over her desk to ruffle his hair.

“Weird, how?” she checked once she got herself under control, and Yoshiro was clearly reigning in a pout.

“Like they know something I don’t.” he explained, running a frustrated hand through his hair and only succeeding in messing it up further.

Sakura contemplated the boy for a second, then sighed, getting up and walking around her desk to perch on it instead, closer to Yoshiro.

Now or never.

“That’s probably because they do.” She confessed, and Yoshiro’s head jerked to look at her, his eyes wide before they narrowed as he studied her.

“Quit that.” Sakura laughed, cuffing him lightly on the head. “You won’t figure it out.”

“Stop being cryptic then, nee-san.” He huffed, standing obligingly when Sakura gestured for him to do so. “What do they know?”

“I already have a birthday present for you.” Sakura admitted, and Yoshiro startled, then tilted his head, likely realising that wasn’t all. “It’s something that should’ve always been yours, so in a way, it’s been a long time coming.”

Yoshiro didn’t say anything, simply looked at her, and Sakura held out her hand, waiting until he put his own in hers. Then, she channelled chakra to her wrist and concentrated, and as they watched, the snake-seal around her wrist moved and slithered until it curled around Yoshiro’s wrist instead.

“Otogakure is yours.” She murmured, echoing the words that had been spoken to her eight years previous. “Do with it what I couldn’t.”

Yoshiro simply gawked for a moment, seemingly incapable of speech, his eyes flickering from his wrist to her face and back again. Then-

“I- but- you- nee-san, what?!” he spluttered, and Sakura almost laughed, because Yoshiro was rarely so unrestrained anymore. “You only just unsealed the last Cursed Seal experiment! The treaties are sorted! Oto is on the map now! Why are you- I don’t understand?”

Instead of immediately replying, Sakura pulled Yoshiro in for a hug, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as she recovered her composure.

“This was never my dream.” She murmured, speaking into his hair because she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t start crying. “My dreams were always altogether smaller. This, kageship? I did it because it was entrusted to me, but it’s not me.”

“And it is me?”

“You’re the youngest jounin-sensei in the Village, aren’t you?” She asked, though it was rhetorical. “Even ignoring the fact that your father was a good kage before the genjutsu, you’ve more than proven that you’re suited to the role.”

“And what will you do?” Yoshiro frowned, and though the question was fair, Sakura just shrugged.

“I don’t know yet. Travel, probably. Work on strengthening those treaties you mentioned. And, eventually, Chojuro will probably get nabbed for Mizukage, so we’ll likely end up there.”

“Chojuro and Shikamaru will leave with you?” The teen asked, something fragile in his voice, and Sakura nodded, smiling wryly.

“That’s the plan.”

“Nee-san, I… can you stay, at least for the first few weeks? Genin team is one thing, but a Village…” he hedged, and Sakura softened, reaching out and pulling him in for another hug, unable to resist the urge to muss his hair.

“Oh, obviously. You have the seal now, but I’m not stepping down until you beat me in a fight, Yoshi-chan.” she teased, using the nickname his genin teammates had coined to annoy him. “But now, whenever you’re not running missions with your genin, you’ll be shadowing me or Karin, so you better pay attention.”

“You’re crazy, nee-san.” he huffed, but he cuddled closer to her side nonetheless. “Thank you.”

Three months after Yoshiro’s birthday, Sakura was officially stepping down, eight and a half years to the day since she took over.

A peaceful transition of power was so rarely seen that she almost wasn’t sure how to arrange the event, because she didn’t want anything as grand as Neji’s inauguration, but she also wanted official recognition of Yoshiro’s appointment. Luckily, Karin handled that for her, and Sakura would forever be grateful for the other girl, even if Karin had grumbled at her for her decision.

“You’re good.” She’d huffed when they’d both abandoned Kazuya in the office in favour of heading to an onsen. “In everybody’s standards but your own, you’re a great kage. Nobody would complain if you stayed in power longer.”

“Cho and Shika might.” Sakura had denied, smiling slyly when Karin shot her a questioning look. “I’ve been putting off our honeymoon for almost two years at this point.”

“Don’t you need to be married to go on a honeymoon?” Karin asked rhetorically, rolling her eyes dismissively. But when Sakura reached into her hammerspace seal and withdrew a necklace, holding it up in the light and letting the afternoon sun catch on the single silver band hanging from the chain, she blinked.

Then-

“You bitch!” Karin shrieked, slapping some water so it splashed Sakura in the face, eyes wide and mouth agape. “How could you not tell me?! When?!”

“That holiday we took to Tanzaku-Gai after the Chunin Exams.” Sakura confessed, grinning in the face of Karin’s shock. “Tsunade officiated, too.”

“I can’t believe you fucking eloped and didn’t tell me! How long were you going to keep it a secret?!”

Sakura laughed, though she ended up choking when Karin splashed her again. Instead of replying, she splashed back, and before they knew it, an entire splash battle had broken out.

Karin’s outburst had been very similar to Anko’s when Sakura had informed her senpai of that particular development during one of her quick visits to the Land of Fire a few months back.

Though, luckily, unlike Anko, Karin didn’t have a summoning contract full of grumpy snakes she could sic on her.

“Ready?” Shikamaru asked a fortnight after Sakura had officially stepped down, his pack slung over his back and hip leant against the main gate out of Oto.

“She better be.” Chojuro grouched, hefting his own pack and picking up his head from Shikamaru’s shoulder. Over the years, Chojuro had become the very opposite of a morning person, and Sakura suspected it was due to having had a genin team and the chaos that had brought into his normal routine. “I could’ve had half an hour longer in bed.”

“You’re sounding too much like Shika, Cho-dear.” Sakura chirped, looping her arm through Shikamaru’s and pulling them through the gate, resolutely refusing to look back at the Village she was leaving behind. “Next thing we know, you’ll also be covered in tattoos.”

Chojuro’s nose scrunched up at that, his eyes sliding to Shikamaru’s sleeve tattoo with distaste, and if not for the fact that Sakura knew he spent many a night tracing the intricate designs on Shikamaru’s skin with quiet awe, she’d have almost believed the front.

“Where to?” Shikamaru asked instead, getting their conversation back on track even as they seamlessly fell into step together, making their way through the endless fields of Rice Country with the ease of long practice.

“I was thinking Kumo.” Sakura suggested, glancing up at the sky and wondering whether they’d manage to make it to Hidden Hot Water by nightfall at their leisurely pace. “Darui-san’s inauguration is meant to be soon, and I’ve never had a chance to properly visit.”

“Plus, A might have an aneurysm if he sees you there.” Shikamaru added, shooting her a knowing look, and Sakura only grinned, completely unrepentant. Though her and A’s open hostility had waned somewhat over the years, they were still barely able to manage civil in the few interactions they’ve had since.

“Added bonus.” She agreed, drawing a snort from Chojuro. “Though realistically, I think we’ve got maybe a year, potentially two, before we’ll have to head to Mist, so I’m down to explore as much as we can in the meantime.”

“Mm, I was thinking that, too.” Shikamaru agreed around a yawn, leaning into the arm Chojuro had around his shoulders. “So explore as much as we can, then maybe head for Uzushio so we’re closer when the summon comes? I know you want to take a look at their seals.”

Sakura nodded, liking that plan, but Chojuro appeared to have somewhat woken up and was glancing between the two of them confusedly. “Summon? Mist? What do you know that I don’t?”

Shikamaru actually stopped walking, staring at Chojuro in disbelief, and Sakura was little better, both eyebrows arched as she waited for Chojuro’s brain to get back on track and realise how silly his question was.

When the light of comprehension refused to dawn in Chojuro’s eyes, Shikamaru sighed.

“How. How are you two so clever but so clueless?” he whined, hanging his head and laughing breathlessly, then he stepped up and laid both hands on Chojuro’s shoulders, while Chojuro kept glancing between the two of them, still baffled.

“Cho, you’re Mei’s best pick for successor.” Sakura divulged, taking mercy on the man before Shikamaru could start shaking him. “It’s very, very likely she’ll call you to the Village soon and offer you the position of Rokudaime.”

Chojuro snorted, turning to Shikamaru with a ‘get a load of this, huh?’ look, but when he saw that Shikamaru wasn’t laughing, he blinked.

“…You’re being serious.” He realised, eyes wide, and when Shikamaru simply nodded slowly, Chojuro swayed then dropped to the ground, landing hard on his bum as he stared sightlessly ahead.

“Mei’s been all-but grooming you to take over since you were a chunin.” Shikamaru added, exchanging a look with Sakura, who just shrugged and also sat down, nudging her knee against Chojuro’s thigh. “We honestly thought you knew, especially after she recruited Sakura to help.”

“Recruited?” Chojuro echoed, turning to Sakura with a suspicious frown. “How?”

“What, you think that all the ambassadorial missions I’ve been sending you and your team on have been, what, paid vacations?” Sakura laughed, only laughing harder when Chojuro gaped, realisation hitting with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. “Now I owe Yuki babysitting hours, because he was the only one who bet that you hadn’t realised yet.”

“Did everyone know?” Chojuro groaned, dropping his head against Shikamaru’s shoulder and getting a patronising ‘there-there’ pat from the brunet.

“Apart from you it seems, yeah.” Shikamaru replied, getting a mumble that sounded suspiciously like ‘fuck you’ from Chojuro in response, which sent Sakura into another round of hysterics.

“C’mon, Cho, it’s not that bad.” She consoled, though she couldn’t help but trade amused glances with Shikamaru. “We’ve got about two years before you even need to think about it, and if you really don’t want to do it, you can always say no. Mei can’t force you to take over from her, so you’re really borrowing trouble right now.”

“You’ve been complaining about being stuck in the office for the last five years.” Chojuro shot back, pulling away from Shikamaru’s shoulder to shoot her the stink eye. “Why are you so optimistic all of a sudden?”

“Because it won’t be me in the office, will it?” Sakura said, a shit-eating grin on her face, not even having to look at Shikamaru to meet his high-five.

Chojuro looked like he couldn’t believe his ears, then he huffed. “Just for that, I’m making you my Karin.”

“Aww,” Sakura teased, reaching over to pinch Chojuro’s cheek obnoxiously. “I knew you loved me!”

But Chojuro deviated from the script, catching her wrist and interlacing their fingers, then turned to smile at Shikamaru too.

“I do.” He said, more serious than the teasing declaration called for, startling both Sakura and Shikamaru into silence. “Both of you. The only reason I’m not running for the hills right now is because I know you’ll be right by my side through it all.”

Sakura blinked, fighting the happy tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes, and Shikamaru looked comparably thrown.

“How dare you make me emotional.” She managed, voice breaking half-way through, and Chojuro laughed, bright and startled, and used the grip he had on her wrist to pull her closer, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Sakura used the opportunity to bury her face in his shoulder and get a grip, while Shikamaru huffed a laugh.

“We said forever.” He reminded Chojuro, and Sakura had a flashback to Pein and the first realisation that, miraculously, they were all on the same page when it came to who they were to each other. Then, she shook the memory off and focused on the much more recent reaffirmation of those vows in peacetime and with good company and plenty of alcohol. “In this life and any that follow. We’re not going to bail just because you’ve also got a crazy legacy to uphold.”

“Alright, that’s it.” Sakura ordered, sniffling even as she pushed to her feet and held out a hand for Chojuro. “No way you’re making me cry before 8am. Let’s get a move on.”

“You’ve been talking to Sasuke too much.” Shikamaru sighed, though he still obligingly got up when they did. “Emotions won’t give you hives, Sakura.”

“No, but I might give you a bruise if you make me cry, Shika-dear.” Sakura replied sweetly, batting her eyelashes at the man.

“Calm down, children.” Chojuro ordered, and Sakura and Shikamaru simultaneously quietened and turned to face him before realising just what they’d done and snorting. “So, Kumo?”

“Kumo.” Sakura confirmed, stretching, then looped her arms through theirs again. “I wanna see A lose it.”

“And then?” Shikamaru asked around another yawn, huffing when Sakura smacked his chest.

“Then, I don’t know.” She confirmed, and it was almost…liberating.

She’d known precisely what she was going to do and where and for how long since she was thirteen. At twenty-six, finally being able to say she didn’t know what she was going to do next was novel.

She rather liked it.

“But I guess we’ll find out.” She concluded with a smile, one which Chojuro mirrored, moving his hand so instead of their arms being laced, their fingers were.

“Together?”

“Together.”