Chapter Text
She was twenty one by the time she and Kakashi actually talked about the kiss they’d shared after the war, though the delay was only partly due to avoidance.
Time flew by after the war. Kakashi was inaugurated as the Rokudaime Hokage. Sakura became the director of Konoha hospital. Naruto traveled between the villages as the Ninja world’s first and most respected ambassador. After a lengthy probation period (and countless oaths sworn to the village), Sasuke was permitted to join ANBU and serve Konoha once more.
And Sakura had her heart broken.
Not that it was Sasuke’s fault. How was she to know he was gay? He hadn’t known—at least not until his and Naruto’s long reconciliatory talks in his prison cell beneath T&I resulted in a sloppy make out session and a heart-to-heart about the nature of their feelings for one another. Turned out there was a lot more to his defection from Konoha than just trying to enact his vengeance. He was running from himself, too.
She was happy for Naruto, of course, who she’s only a little surprised to learn knew he was bisexual all along and thought it was obvious to everyone else (it was not). She’s happy for Sasuke, too. She’s never seen him as grounded and emotionally stable as when he starts to date Naruto. But all that happiness did little to heal her broken heart or fill the hole left behind by her girlish fantasy of marrying him; though admittedly the fantasy only barely survived two years of war, limping along tattered and bruised. Perhaps that’s what made it easy to let go of, in the end.
She threw herself into work at the hospital, hoping that if she kept busy enough, she wouldn’t have time to dwell on the fractured remains of her once-perfect future. It worked in halves. She was happy and content when at work, but the moment she got home and had time to breathe, the loneliness and persistent feeling of a missing piece would strike her and leave her feeling low. Perhaps that’s why, despite the ensuing awkwardness between her and Kakashi after the war, she accepted his invitation to join him for the Daimyo’s gala celebrating the one year anniversary of the war’s end, and the treaty between the five great ninja villages and their nations.
Turned out, being stuck together in hiding for two years as the war dragged on made the Daimyo all good pals, and really they just wanted an excuse to get together again—in fancy dress this time.
The invitation technically comes from Shizune. After Tsunade’s retirement she stayed on as the Hokage’s advisor while she trained Shikamaru to take over the job. After almost a year she was finally leaving to join Tsunade on her travels—and that meant Kakashi was losing his go-to politically-neutral date.
“Please, Sakura-san… he has no one else!” Shizune pleaded, “He can’t risk taking someone from a clan lest it show favoritism, and no one else is available. Please?”
Sakura huffed, throwing her hands in the air and hoping her blush wasn’t visible. “Why can’t he go alone?”
Shizune cleared her throat. “The, uh… Mizukage developed a thing for him during the war, and he wants to avoid any political complications arising from—“
“He needs a meat shield to put her off, I got it.”
Sakura sighed, rubbing at her eyes. It wasn’t that she and Kakashi weren’t friendly, but things had never quite been the same since the victory celebrations the night the war was won. Their interactions were always just a little bit distant, always in a crowd—never one-on-one. But perhaps, after a year, it was time to be a big girl about it. It was just a kiss. They’d never break through the awkwardness if they kept avoiding each other.
“Alright,” she sighed, “I’ll go. Just… give me the details, and I’ll get a dress.”
“Thank you, Sakura-san!” Shizune gushed, pulling out an envelope from her pouch, “Here’s the formal invitation. You’ve saved us all from an international incident!”
Sakura rolled her eyes though she couldn’t help but smile.
“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
According to the invitation the event was to be held in two months time, on the exact date the war ended. She didn’t give it too much thought, assuming the gala would be not unlike the Fire Daimyo’s summer soirées (she’d attended a few of those with Tsunade during her training). She didn’t bother to go out to dress shop until a few weeks beforehand. She chose a poor day, though, as it proved to be the same day Ino also deemed ripe for a shopping spree. As she was fingering a simple red quipao, she heard the woman’s familiar voice floating through the racks.
“Forehead? What in the world are you doing here? This place is much too fashionable for you.”
Sakura glanced up, only to see Ino peeking around a rack on the opposite side of the dress section, a few items draped over one arm. She sighed. So much for popping in and getting out quickly.
“Hi, Ino. I’m shopping, as you can see.”
Ino strode over, head cocked as she eyed the dress Sakura had been considering.
“For a party dress? You never go out. What’s the occasion?” She fingered the material of the quipao before tutting and murmuring under her breath, “The quality has really gone downhill.”
“I think it’s nice,” Sakura defended, plucking a dress in her size off the rack. “I got invited to the Daimyo’s peace gala. I didn’t think I owned anything fancy enough for that, so I—“
Ino cut her off with a shriek.
“You are going to the peace gala?!”
Sakura quirked a brow. “Uh… yeah. Why?”
Ino threw her hands up. “It’s only the talk of the entirety of high society right now! It’s supposed to be huge, and everyone who’s anyone is going to be there! How the hell did you get an invitation?!”
Sakura frowned. “Shizune asked me. She said Kakashi needed a date and I was the only clanless woman avail—“
“Oh my God, that is so unfair!” Ino cried, throwing up her hands again. “The plainest, most fashion-challenged Kunoichi in Konoha gets to go to the most fashionable event of the year on the Hokage’s arm. I think the Gods are playing a practical joke on me.”
“Ino—“
“No—I’m not letting you ruin this with a quipao,” She declared, deftly plucking the dress from Sakura’s hands and hanging it back on the rack. “We are getting you a proper dress. An impressive dress. We are going to make you look magnificent. If you’re going as the Hokage’s date, you’re representing all of Konoha, and I will not have you making us out to be slouches in front of the other villages.”
“I don’t—!”
“No buts!” she countered, looping her arm around Sakura’s own with no small amount of force. “Come on, I know a better place than this for something high class.”
As she was led bodily from the shop, Sakura sighed and resigned herself to the inevitable. At least with Ino’s help, she didn’t have to second-guess herself. She’d just do what Ino said and be home before lunch.
Of course, Sakura didn’t take into account how seriously Ino was taking this. She did not end up home before lunch. In fact she barely made it home in time for dinner. Ino had her try on a dozen dresses—each more elaborate and needlessly dramatic than the last, nitpicking until she found the ‘perfect piece’.
“Your name is Sakura and the dress makes you look like a flower—it’s literally perfect,” she said with an air of finality.
One look at the price tag nearly made Sakura keel over, but Ino assured her she could return it—and offered to help cover half in the meantime. If it meant finally going home, Sakura was game for anything, so she headed to the register with the massive gown in tow. She thought that would be the end of it—but of course Ino insisted she needed accessories to match, tacking on another hour of shopping. And after that—hair and makeup.
“Since you’ll be responsible for your own hair once you get to the Daimyo’s palace, we’re getting you professional guidance. I know you hate having to get done up, so the stylist will show you a few cute, easy hairstyles even you can do.”
By the time she got home the sun was setting, her hair was done up in a simple but elegant bun, and her features were lightly accentuated by subtle makeup. Her bank account was feeling the hit, even with Ino’s help (“Keep it clean and undamaged—because I want my money back, too.”), but Sakura at least felt gratified the whole ordeal was over. As she drifted off to sleep, thoughts floating in the liminal space between awareness and unconsciousness, she wondered briefly if Kakashi would think she looked pretty in it.
-:-:-:-
“Sakura?!”
“Naruto!”
Sakura grinned, running up to the blond who stood just beyond the village gates beside Kakashi, two horse-drawn carts and a phalanx of guards surrounding them.
“Are you coming to the party too?”
She grinned, giving him a hug. She supposed it made sense he would be coming, being a war hero and the five hidden villages’ most esteemed diplomat.
“Yeah! I’m Kakashi’s date.”
She jerked a thumb at the man beside them fidgeting uncomfortably in his Hokage robes. Naruto’s eyes bulged.
“You’re dating Kaka-sensei?!”
Sakura flushed and smacked him on the head.
“No, stupid, I’m his date for the gala! Shizune wasn’t able to make it and asked if I could take her place.”
“Ooooh…”
“So you’re my mystery date,” Kakashi hummed, one hand in the pocket of his robes and the other wiping away a bead of sweat beneath his hat. Sakura’s brow furrowed.
“What, Shizune didn’t tell you?”
Kakashi shook his head. “She said: ‘I got you a date. See you later, I’m off to the hot springs, here’s all the details’. And then she gave me a letter. Which… I lost.”
He scratched the side of his cheek awkwardly as Naruto laughed. “Well—I guess it’s good Sakura-chan was available! Mizukage-sama is scary when she flirts.” He shuddered, looking as though he’d just stepped in a steaming cow pie. Scary was a good word for it. To say she was aggressive in her pursuit of a man was a bit of an understatement. She was more like a rabid wolf on the hunt than anything else.
Beside her, Kakashi wiped away another bead of sweat.
“Hot in those robes?” Sakura queried.
“Quite,” he replied, then turned his gaze toward the lead cart. “Can’t I wear my fatigues?” he whined in a very un-Hokage-like fashion. From the driver’s seat Shikamaru’s head peered out from behind a towering pile of crates, a frown marring his features and a cigarette hanging between his lips.
“This is a formal caravan, so no.”
Kakashi frowned, but it seemed that was all Shikamaru had to say on the matter. He sighed and Naruto—dressed in standard issue cotton pants and a short sleeve tee shirt, laughed, slapping him on the back.
“Tough luck, Kaka-sensei!”
Kakashi’s frown deepened as Naruto took up position alongside the cart, and Sakura couldn’t help but laugh herself.
“Maybe you can ride beside Shikamaru?” she suggested, “That way you don’t have to walk.”
He sighed, looking entirely put-upon, and began trudging toward the lead cart to take her up on her suggestion. She only just heard him murmur under his breath: “…regret taking this job more and more every day…”
She laughed quietly behind her hand, taking a spot behind Naruto alongside the lead cart. Things were off to a good start, at least—no awkward orbiting or uncertain silences. As the ANBU guards took up position and the whip cracked to start the horses, she let herself hope that maybe things wouldn’t be as uncomfortable between them as she’d feared.
-:-:-:-
They stopped for the night halfway to the fire country capitol, making camp alongside a river. Their party numbered sixteen in total, mostly ANBU and Tokubetsu Jonin. Apparently each village was bringing a token number of guards to stand watch during the festivities, given the number of important personages in attendance. They were all people she knew, at least: Genma, Yugao, Raidou, and Tenzou made up the Hokage’s Jonin guard, with eight of the most highly ranked ANBU comprising the remaining company, including Sasuke and Sai.
With the summer in full swing and the days at their longest (and hottest) of the year, Naruto didn’t hesitate to strip down to his boxers and canonball into the cool river, attempting (and failing) to splash the ANBU guards. He was just as quick to get back out, though, and dance wetly in front of one particular dark-haired ANBU, shaking his rear near his crotch in a clear taunt. Sasuke remained impressively stoic in the face of Naruto’s ridiculous attempt at a seductive assault; at least until he began to drip water all over his uniform, at which point Sasuke deftly kicked the blond back into the river to a chorus of laughter.
It was good to know their relationship was going strong.
With camp set up, the sun setting, and ration bars handed out, everyone began to settle in, taking seats around the fire and carts to relax. Kakashi at last peeled off his Hokage robes, taking a seat on a log near the river where the breeze was strongest and the temperature lower as the cool air wafted up off the river.
Things had been going well, sure—but nonetheless she wanted the weight of the past off her chest; and she’d get no better chance to get him alone before they reached the Capitol.
“Hey… mind if I join you?” she asked, walking up to the log with a smile.
He glanced up at her, giving her that familiar eye squint smile, and nodded to the empty space beside him.
“Ah.”
She sat down, peeling back the wrapper on her bar as she joined him in staring out at the river, flowing smoothly along its course downstream. They ate in silence a while, and when at last he crinkled up his wrapper and stuffed it in his pocket, she forced the words from her mouth.
“Hey… Kakashi? There’s… something I wanted to talk to you about, before we get to the Capitol.”
He glanced over at her, his expression perfectly, pleasantly neutral.
“Water under the bridge, Sakura.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”
“You were going to ask about the night we won the war.”
Her mouth snapped shut and her brow furrowed.
“… is this another one of your nose things?” She asked dubiously, “Can you smell my thoughts?”
He laughed. “No. It’s one of those, ‘I’m not an idiot’ things.”
She frowned harder, but his smile only widened, stretching the fabric of his mask. After a moment though, his humor ebbed and he sighed.
“I am sorry, Sakura. We probably should have talked about this sooner.”
Sakura glanced away, feeling some embarrassment rise to her cheeks. “Yeah. It’s been a busy year, though.”
“Mmm.” He agreed.
“I just… I dunno. I wanted to clear the air, before the party. Things have been kind of awkward between us since then. At least when it’s just the two of us.”
He scratched his cheek, but said nothing. Fueled, perhaps, by her own need to air her thoughts, she kept going.
“I mean, I know we were both really drunk—I had the absolute worst hangover the next day and that’s saying something for a medic. But it was inappropriate and I know I started it, so I—“
“Sakura, it’s fine.”
Her mouth snapped shut again, and she turned to glance at him. He was still staring out at the river, elbows on his knees, brows faintly furrowed.
“You… weren’t the only one responsible,” he admitted after a time.
She frowned. “I’m pretty sure I kissed you.”
He turned to her with a cocked head, eying her thoughtfully. “…Have you ever seen a dog follow its nose straight into trouble?”
Her brows knit together, but she nonetheless answered with an uncertain, “… Yeah. When Akamaru had puppies, some of them would wander right off the Inuzuka property into the forest, nose to the ground the whole time. Drove Kiba mad.”
Kakashi huffed a laugh and returned his gaze to the water.
“It’s like that, sometimes, for me,” he admitted, a tad sheepish. “I told you once that the reason I wear a mask isn’t to hide my teeth but to limit smells. Well… without it—especially if I’m inebriated, I can get… carried away.”
The furrow in her brow deepened.
“And you were… what, carried away by me?”
He shrugged, giving her a sheepish look.
“You smelled nice.”
Not unlike that night, curiosity got the better of her. She turned on the log to face him, leaning close, staring with a penetrating gaze as though he were a particularly tricky puzzle to solve. She’d been exhausted and sweaty and half a bottle of moonshine deep. What about her could possibly have smelled nice?
“What exactly can you smell?”
He chuckled lowly at her wide-eyed curiosity and scratched the side of his cheek again.
“Tsunade-sama examined me, once, just as curious about it as you are. She said that my sense of smell was about 100 million times stronger, capable of detecting smells nine orders of magnitude fainter than the average human.”
Sakura’s eyes bulged. “…What is that like?”
“Hmm… Well. Imagine what it smells like to walk into Ichiraku first thing in the morning when Teuchi has just started preparing for the day—coking a fresh pork shoulder, simmering a fresh pot of broth… Even if you weren’t hungry, you might become hungry smelling it so fresh and potent. Right?”
Sakura smiled. “Naruto sure does whenever we walk by.”
He huffed a laugh. “Well… it’s a bit like that. Only, It smells that strong to me from down the street.”
Sakura sat back, astonished. She’d thought Tsunade had been exaggerating when she said he had the nose of a bloodhound. Apparently, it had been a rather precise description.
“…How do you function?” she asked, aghast.
“You get used to it,” he chuckled, “And the mask does help a lot.”
She thought back to that night on the battlefield, hidden away in the tree line—to the way she’d pulled his mask down to pool around his neck.
“So… you got carried away by me,” she concluded, gears turning as she processed that statement; then quite suddenly, she realized what specifically he meant. Her face turned crimson. “Oh God, does that mean you could smell—?!“
He laughed, and ruffled the hair at the back of his head, the tips of his ears turning the slightest shade of pink. “…Ah, yeah. Among… other things.”
“…What other things?!”
“Hormones and pheromones mostly. Humans emit them just like animals, only ours aren’t as strong, nor do they dictate behavior the same way. They’re more like… chemical messages, sometimes subtle, but there all the same. And that night… I think the best way to describe you was ‘euphoric’.”
She stared at him. Uncertain what to say.
“…Huh.”
He gave her a sheepish look and shrugged his shoulders.
“You are fascinating.”
He laughed, loud and bright this time. “You know… Tsunade said the same thing.”
She smiled wryly. Like mentor like mentee, she supposed.
“Well… anyway,” she sighed, feeling a bit sheepish herself now, “I just… wanted to make sure we were good. Are we good?”
He smiled at her, cocking his head in a familiar, friendly way.
“Yeah. We’re good.”
“Okay,” she said on a breath, feeling relief course through her. She rose to stand and stretched. “I’m gonna get ready for bed. Night, Kakashi. Thanks for talking with me.”
She moved around the log just as Kakashi replied with a quiet, “Night,” and she waved over her shoulder, heading back towards camp and the warm glow of the fire at its center.
-:-:-
They arrived at the Fire Daimyo’s palace midday the following day, just as the other caravans from the other nations did. Greetings were cheerful and warm between parties, though groups were quickly led away by servants to different wings of the palace—a complex large enough to serve as a maze as easily as it did a place of residence. The Konoha delegation was led to the eastern wing, where the “important parties”—Kakashi, Sakura, Naruto, and Shikamaru—were given lavish individual rooms while the rest were thrown into servants quarters at the end of the hall, sharing bunks.
Each delegation was to share an informal dinner with their Daimyo, and so they spent the time after their arrival unpacking and cleaning up. Sakura hung the obscenely lavish dress Ino had selected for her up in the wardrobe, setting her makeup and accessories atop the vanity. She showered quickly, changed into simple Jonin fatigues, and headed to the sitting room with the others to await their invitation to dinner.
She was eager for a proper meal and a little calm and quiet after two day’s travel; but of course dinner didn’t go as expected. Much like the labyrinthine palace, the nobility never did make anything simple or straightforward.
“So,” the Daimyo said brightly from the head of the table as their plates were set before them, leaning forward with a conspiratorial glint, “I hope you all have an impressive display planned for tomorrow’s gala entrance. You are some of Konoha’s best and brightest, and we can’t let the other nations show us up—not when we’re hosting.”
Sakura’s brow furrowed, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Naruto and Kakashi sharing puzzled looks. Shikamaru was the only one who seemed unfazed by the question.
Kakashi cleared his throat. “I’m… not sure—“
Shikamaru’s leg brushed quickly past her own, and could feel more than hear the dull thump of his shoe hitting Kakashi’s shin. Kakashi did an admirable job of hiding his grimace, and instead quickly changed tact to finish his sentence with, “—if we should spoil the surprise.”
The Daimyo, utterly oblivious, eagerly clapped his hands. “Oh, splendid! I can’t wait to see what you have planned. The Daimyo of the land of Water tells me the Mizukage has a wonderful aquatic display planned—I hope you have something thematic planned as well?”
“I’m sure it will be to your satisfaction, Daimyo-dono,” Shikamaru replied smoothly.
The rest of the dinner passed uneventfully, with the Daimyo regaling them enthusiastically with details about the gala, Shikamaru and Kakashi replying to his small talk in turns. Naruto gamely interjected here and there, and she found herself consistently surprised by his mild, diplomatic persona. The past year of travel between the great ninja villages had shaped him in ways she wouldn’t have expected.
When dinner was finally over and they were released back to their rooms, the four of them gathered in Kakashi’s to discuss the pressing matter of the Daimyo’s cryptic request.
“What the heck was that about?” Naruto exclaimed, flopping onto Kakashi’s enormous four poster bed. “What display?”
Both Kakashi and Sakura’s eyes slid accusingly to Shikamaru who, as usual, looked entirely put-upon.
“Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t know either until we got here,” he defended, arms crossed. “It was probably something Shizune explained in that letter you lost.” he gave Kakashi a pointed look, and he had the good graces to appear abashed. “I do know what he’s talking about though,” Shikamaru continued, “I overheard the staff gossiping about it shortly before dinner.”
“And?” Kakashi prompted.
Shikamaru threw his hands up looking exasperated.
“The Daimyo want a show,” he huffed. “Now that we’re at peace through treaty, there’s no real reason to flex our muscles at each other, so instead they want us to entertain them and the nobility instead.”
Sakura’s brow furrowed. “And… they expect us to do this at the gala?”
“During the entrance, yes,” Shikamaru clarified. “They have a grand staircase for it and everything. The Daimyo of each nation will be introduced first, followed by the Kage’s entourage, then the Kage themselves. You’ll make a grand entrance at the top of the staircase, and they want you to be flashy about it—show off the strength and creativity of Konoha nin. I don’t know what everyone is planning, but I do know Gaara will be escorted by Temari. It doesn’t take much imagination to think of how impressive his sand and her wind could make an entrance.”
“Hey, this could be kinda fun!” Naruto piped up from the bed, sitting upright with a grin. “A chance to represent Konoha’s ninjutsu in a peaceful way. The Daimyo want to make this gala thing an annual event—it could be a new tradition!”
Naruto was practically bouncing on the bed with excitement. Shikamaru grumbled, muttering “troublesome” beneath his breath, but Sakura couldn’t help but smile. Even if it was unexpected, it was a nice notion—demonstrating Konoha’s strength through creativity for the sake of art and entertainment, rather than for death and domination.
“I agree with you Naruto,” Kakashi interjected smoothly, “But that does still leave us in the position of having to come up with something in under twelve hours.”
Sakura, however, was undeterred.
“Come on—we have some of Konoha’s most notorious ninja with us—Sai’s painting jutsu, Sasuke’s sharingan, we even have—oh my God,” Sakura gasped, hand covering her mouth. “That’s it—Yamato!”
Naruto eyed her curiously from the bed, but Kakashi and Shikamaru were quicker to catch on.
“The wood release?” Shikamaru murmured, stroking his chin in thought. “That’s certainly emblematic of Konoha. But how would we incorporate it into a grand entrance?”
Sakura grinned and gestured for them to come closer.
“Naruto—go grab Sasuke, Yamato, and Sai. I think I have the perfect idea.”
-:-:-:-
The following morning dawned to bustling activity among the palace. Servants ran to and fro carrying flower arrangements and carts filled with ceramic dishware and linens. Breakfast was buffet style in the smaller ball room, and the mood among the ninja was a friendly sort of combativeness as each Kage alluded to the superiority of their planned performance. Kakashi, in typical Kakashi fashion, kept tight-lipped, chatting genially with A and Korotsuchi, taking each tease and friendly barb in stride; at least until Mei entered the room, at which point he was quick to Sakura’s side.
“Ah, Sakura-chan,” he hummed enthusiastically, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a friendly, casual drape. “How are you doing this fine morning? Enjoying the buffet?”
She eyed him curiously, and was quick to notice Mei watching their interaction from across the room with what Sakura could only think to describe as predatory hunger. She smiled wryly up at him.
“Mei coming for you?” She queried.
“Ah… I’m afraid she’ll leap across the room and eat me at any moment. Save me?” he begged quietly, outwardly smiling and appearing for all intents and purposes attentively engaged in friendly conversation. Sakura would laugh if it didn’t risk giving him away. Instead she leaned closer and gesticulated enthusiastically, hooking his arm and leading him out to the balcony.
“Breakfast has been fantastic. The eggs are perfectly cooked and seasoned with just the right amount of salt. The rice is a bit on th dry side, though it’s great with the eggs. The fruit is to die for—I want to know where they got the melon because I have never had a melon as flavorful and juicy as…” she trailed off as she noticed the Water Daimyo ensnare the Mizukage in conversation, diverting her attention and moving her out of sight.
“Thank you,” Kakashi whispered, pulling himself away.
“Any time,” she murmured with a grin.
He plucked a piece of melon from her plate, pulling his mask down quickly to pop it in his mouth.
“Hm. This is good…”
She laughed as she watched him sunshin away, reaching for a slice of melon herself.
She didn’t have long to enjoy breakfast before she had to go start getting ready. She had originally planned to keep her hair and makeup simple, but after their conversation last night and the lofty expectations of the Daimyo, those plans were officially out the window. She counted herself exceedingly lucky Ino happened to run into her while dress shopping or she may have picked that simple red quipao after all, and then she’d really have been screwed.
She recruited Yugao, the only other woman in their entourage, to help her. While Sakura bathed, the clever ANBU tracked down some of the younger, more impressionable serving girls and convinced them to part with a few of the flowers set aside for arrangements, insisting the need to impress with the Hokage’s grand entrance exceeded the need to beautify the bathrooms. And once she returned, the beautifying of Sakura began.
Sakura was by no means an adept stylist, but Ino taught her the basics when they were kids and with Yugao’s assistance they were able to cobble together a look of greater complexity and aesthetic quality than Sakura could have manged on her own—even if it took four hours to complete. She left most of her hair up in the simple bun she and Ino had planned—but pulled a few strands free, giving them a loose curl which hung down her neck and back like the vines which hung from the boughs of fire country’s many trees; and this impression was only emphasized when Yugao tucked several bright peonies and loose greenery into her hair. She kept her makeup light, emphasizing her eyes and dusting her cheeks pink to affect a warm, dewy look.
Last but not least, she slipped into her dress, arranging the ample folds of fabric with attentive care. It was a unique design hand-picked by Ino from one of the most expensive dress shops in Konoha. The skirt had the look of a formal uchikake, trailing behind her in a short train; but it cinched at the waist over several layers of colored fabric which bunched and folded over one another like petals. The top hugged her waist and bust, curving in a sweetheart neckline, with more layers of fabric curling around her torso as though the outermost layer of a kimono had fallen off her shoulders to rest about her arms. Long belts of red silk trim draped down from her waist, looping over her hips and thigh. Taken in sum, she looked like some kind of exotic flower—an elegant, blooming orchid in hues of pale pink and lavender, trimmed in vibrant red.
“You look stunning, Sakura-san,” Yugao murmured with a smile, stepping back to admire her. “You truly do look like a flower. The Daimyo will be speechless when they see your entrance.”
“I hope so,” Sakura breathed out, observing herself in the full length mirror. It was strange how little she cared for things like this—fancy dresses and elaborate hair-do’s and who-wore-it-betters; at least until it suddenly became a competition between ninja. “Like the Daimyo said—we can’t have a lackluster performance when we’re the country hosting, right?”
Yugao’s grin widened. “Absolutely not.”
They finished with time to spare—enough to relax, then feel anxious, then relax again before anxiety struck anew; but in a way, this was a mission just like any other—she had to trust her team, and trust in her own skills. Despite how little notice they’d had, she knew they could do this. She could do this.
They’d blow the Daimyo away.