Chapter 538: Journey
It was over.
Jiraiya sat in the Hokage's office with a stack of documents towering in front of him -- taller than he was, at a conservative estimate -- wearing an expression that suggested he had received news of a personal bereavement.
The official statement had already gone out. This incident's resolution was credited entirely to Uchiha Satsuki, descendant of Konoha's Uchiha clan. She had deployed some manner of extraordinarily powerful genjutsu and brought the entire attacking force under simultaneous control. Through the power of one person alone, the village had been saved from disaster.
The statement made no mention of where the "disaster" had come from.
It also made no mention of what Satsuki's eyes were actually doing.
She was remarkable, she had rendered an extraordinary service, she had saved the village -- that covered it. Nothing else needed to be said.
What remained was an enormous amount of cleanup work.
Press statements. Civilian reassurance. Damage assessment. Formal attribution of credit. Diplomatic policy planning. Because a death-reversal technique had been deployed on a large scale, every other major nation needed to be carefully managed -- none of them would dare start a conflict with Konoha or Ember, but the required paperwork still had to exist. Diplomatic correspondence, official declarations, formal notifications to every relevant party, each in the proper format.
Jiraiya stared at the pile of documents and exhaled a long, long breath.
And Uchiha Satsuki herself, as the central figure in all of this --
Was paying absolutely none of it any attention.
That woman had zero interest in any of these matters. She was simply spending each day as close to Naruto as possible, immersed in her private world with him, living out her extended honeymoon. Cleanup work, diplomatic policy, formal credit -- what did any of that have to do with her?
So everything had fallen on Jiraiya.
Another all-nighter.
The worst part was not even the work itself. In order to have someone to suffer alongside him, he had refused to let Hiruzen go home -- had essentially thrown a fit until the Third Hokage agreed to stay. Hiruzen now sat across from him, holding a document, his face communicating very clearly that he had no idea why he was still here.
Jiraiya felt not a scrap of guilt about keeping a man approaching eighty awake through the night.
He was suffering. Someone else was going to suffer with him.
-- -- --
Two days later, figures appeared at Konoha's main gate.
Minato Namikaze walked at the front, with Kakashi Hatake, Rin Nohara, and Yamato following behind.
All four showed some degree of weariness, but none of them looked worse for the experience. Their spirits were intact.
Rin in particular. She had a butterfly with her.
An ordinary butterfly, indistinguishable from any other at first glance. But it had attached itself to her completely -- resting on her shoulder one moment, circling her in slow loops the next, landing on the back of her hand, refusing to be chased away by anything.
To anyone watching from outside, it looked like a pet.
Keeping insects as companions was not unusual in Konoha -- one particular clan had every member carrying more bugs on their person than most people encountered in a lifetime. A single butterfly was nothing remarkable by comparison.
Yamato, for his part, had also acquired company.
A white, featureless creature with a spiral pattern where its face should be was bouncing along at his heels, keeping up a running, completely unbroken monologue.
"Wow! So this is Konoha! It's so big! Way bigger than the cave! These houses are so nice! People are looking at us! They're looking at me! They must be looking at me! Of course they are, I'm this handsome!"
Yamato's eyelid twitched. He said nothing.
He had discovered something: when Tobi merged with him, his Wood Release grew in power by an extent he could not have predicted. The increase was frankly difficult to believe. And Tobi had saved his life. So when Tobi asked if he could follow him, Yamato had agreed.
Fine. Let him follow.
It was, at minimum, never quiet.
-- -- --
Among the village's regular population, a change had taken hold over the past few days.
The change was centered entirely on Uchiha Satsuki.
She had, after all, saved the village. Once that news had spread, her standing in the community went nearly vertical.
When she went out to buy groceries, the vendors pushed free vegetables into her arms.
When she and Naruto walked through the village, residents crowded around them, all trying to speak at once.
"Satsuki-sama! Thank you so much!"
"You're our great benefactor!"
"Anything you need, just say the word!"
Satsuki's expression throughout all of this remained its usual composed, unreadable self.
Her interior state was considerably less composed.
The worst of it was her own front door.
Enthusiastic villagers had been delivering gifts in such volume that the entire entry of her house was buried under a substantial pile. Flowers, fruit, confections, decorative banners, letters of gratitude of every size and format -- stacked together into something that had to be navigated around.
Satsuki could have endured this alone.
The problem was that after delivering the gifts, people didn't leave. They stood around outside the house, murmuring to each other, pointing, watching -- as though observing some kind of rare exhibit.
The thought of what that meant for her private moments with Naruto made her temper spike instantly. To have the most intimate, most precious, least interruptible parts of her life witnessed by a rotating vigil of grateful villagers was intolerable.
One morning.
Sunlight came through the gaps in the curtains and laid thin lines of warmth across the bedroom. Satsuki rose as usual, dressed, walked to the front door, and pulled it open.
And saw what she had been expecting.
The gifts were stacked from the doorframe to the end of the courtyard, wall to wall, leaving almost no path to walk through. A small mountain of wrapped packages pressed together in layers, impossible to count.
Satsuki stood there without expression, looking at the mountain.
Then she bent down, picked up the top box, and opened it.
Inside: an extremely expensive-looking set of confections. A lacquered box, beautifully crafted, every piece inside arranged with the careful attention of a dedicated artisan.
A small card was nestled in the corner. Neat, deliberate handwriting: "In gratitude to Satsuki-sama for saving our village."
Satsuki's face moved into an expression she didn't bother to suppress.
These people had apparently decided that every girl loved sweet things.
They had no way of knowing that the food Uchiha Satsuki disliked most in the world was anything excessively sweet -- a preference she had developed as a direct consequence of spending her life around a certain Hokage-aspirant Uchiha who ate sugar like it was a food group.
Gifts given with "the thought that counts" and no actual thought for the recipient.
Satsuki's first instinct was to drop the box on the spot, to demonstrate that a gift being offered didn't obligate anyone to like it.
She didn't. Wasting food was wrong.
She set the box back down on top of the pile with a quiet exhale. She would sort through all of it later and send it to the orphanage. The children there would probably appreciate the sweets.
"Satsuki's popular," Naruto's voice came from behind her.
He was leaning against the doorframe, looking at the pile, then at the side of Satsuki's expressionless face, a note of gentle amusement in his voice. "At this rate I might get jealous."
Satsuki turned to look at him.
"Idiot," she said. "What are you talking about."
"Those people mean nothing to me. What they think of me, I don't care about at all."
Something warm settled into Naruto's chest at those words.
It occurred to him that Satsuki's yandere tendencies might actually be softening -- the constant security of his presence, the completeness of what they had, maybe gradually easing her away from the obsessive, possessive extremity she'd carried before.
He was still thinking this.
Then Satsuki spoke again.
Her voice had taken on a faint note of something that was almost vulnerable.
"What I'm actually worried about..." She lowered her eyes slightly. "Is whether any of this is making Naruto feel troubled."
He blinked.
"If Naruto ever frowned because of those people..." She raised her eyes. The light in them was something Naruto recognized -- familiar, and quietly alarming. "If those people ever made Naruto unhappy -- I would give them a lesson they wouldn't forget, one that would make sure they never dared appear in front of me again."
Naruto looked at her. At the serious face. At the completely serious eyes.
He wasn't sure what to say for a moment.
"...Is that so," he managed. A somewhat complicated smile appeared on his face. "Then Satsuki doesn't need to worry."
He stepped forward and reached up, gently ruffling her hair.
"I'm proud of you, you know."
Satsuki's eyes narrowed slightly, like a cat being petted in the right direction, settling into the affection.
Right.
Naruto thought to himself, quietly.
The yandere tendencies were still intact.
But -- he looked down at Satsuki's satisfied face, at the slight curve of her mouth, at the way her eyes had softened -- something in his chest couldn't help but smile.
Because a Satsuki who was yandere only for him was also, in its own way, extraordinarily endearing.
When his hand lowered, Satsuki spoke again. This time her voice had picked up a new energy, an eagerness she didn't try to contain.
"By the way, Naruto."
She looked up at him, eyes bright with something expectant.
"It's far too noisy here. So -- why don't we go somewhere? The two of us. A proper trip."
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