"I'm guessing things didn't go well," Obito said sympathetically, pushing his mask up over his head. Aiko didn't like being unable to see his face. Besides, it was easier to fake sincerity when he could use his facial expressions and not just his voice. "I'm sorry. Are you alright?"
Aiko had settled down on the grass with a contemplative expression almost as soon as she had returned to the safehouse. That was a good indication to him that all had played out at it was meant to. Otherwise she would have been happy at a successful mission.
Oddly, he was beginning to feel tinges of guilt when he should have felt satisfaction at a perfectly executed plan. It seemed unnecessarily disingenuous to trick Aiko. She had made no secret that she was taking direction from him. Taking the precaution of convincing her was a bit redundant, considering that she would probably do what he wanted if he just told her.
Her thin shoulders shrugged. "It wasn't so bad, until I realized that the client was a bad guy. By the way, I kept a piece of the loot as my pay. It'll look better on me than on Zetsu anyway. It would clash with his hair, but it's great with mine. I'll show you later."
Obito snorted involuntarily at the deflection, but recognized it for what it was. He didn't respond, forcing her to continue. After a moment, the tactic worked.
She twisted to look up at him, fine-boned features twisted in confusion. "Seriously, he was a jerk. I felt a little guilty about bringing back Koto and her gentleman friend. There was probably a good reason for them to leave.
Probably, but Obito didn't care about it.
"I mean," she continued, "He hired us, and then he was going to kill me to save some money?" Incredulous, her voice inched higher in register, approaching the lower soprano ranges. "That's so petty. I mean, money?"
Obito privately reflected that he would not introduce her to Kakuzu at this time. They wouldn't get on.
Aiko gave an odd little laugh, wiping at her mouth compulsively. "I feel strongly about this for some reason. Is that part of why I left Konoha?" She didn't give him time to answer. "That's what civilians do, right? They hire us to kill people they don't have the guts to face themselves." Bitterness twisted her face into something oddly ugly. She shook her head slowly. "It's despicable and small-minded. It's one thing to be violent and fight, for your life or because you want to because you're a vicious person. But hiding behind an intermediary to keep your hands clean is low. Posturing for false morality. Just- I don't mind being an awful person, but I don't lie about it."
He scrambled for words, taken off-guard by her preoccupation with that aspect of the mission. It wasn't that she was wrong, but she was terribly cavalier about the attempt made on her life. She hadn't even mentioned being in danger from other nin, or that Zetsu had stepped in.
'I can't bring that up,' Obito knew. 'Not without her knowing that I predicted something similar.'
So he went for the next best thing: improvisation. That had never been his strong suit.
"It is petty," he agreed. He was careful not to sit too close when he settled to the ground with crossed legs. It was important to be on her level for this conversation: he wanted her to feel like an equal, not a student. She had to think this was at least partly her idea and that meant this discussion had to feel like dialogue. "But it happens everywhere. No matter where you go, people are like that. It's not just civilians. Shinobi use and discard people for petty reasons as well."
The bitterness in his voice wasn't entirely feigned. You truly couldn't expect the best from people. It wasn't their fault, of course, it was a fault in the human brain somehow. That didn't change the fact that he'd trusted his best friend, and a year later Kakashi had pushed his fist through Rin's chest.
No, you couldn't trust a fickle human being at all.
Aiko made a dissatisfied sound, curling her toes in under her crossed legs. Moodily, she tangled her fingers around a cheerful looking tuft of grass and tugged, uprooting some.
'She could give me a little more to work with,' Obito thought, irritated. Still, he didn't have time to feel sorry for himself, so he tried again.
"You were right, actually. The commercialism of murder was one of the things you hated about Konoha. The pointless, stupid death," he all but growled, a bit of Madara bleeding through. "People like him only make the problems of the shinobi system worse. The only people who suffer are innocents. A lot of them are civilians, but there are also plenty of kids who get pushed out of the Academy far too young and into a world where they either die young or get used to hurt other people until they're too broken to go on. Then they're tossed like trash," Obito said softly.
No one had even looked for his body, they'd left him there for Madara to find. He had been very near to the cave-in that had nearly killed him for months afterward. If anyone had cared at all, he would have gladly gone back to Konoha with them. Bastards. And like a chump, he had still intended to go back until he realized that the two people he had sacrificed himself to protect had… had…
He tore himself away from that destructive line of thought with herculean effort and glanced over at his companion.
The wide-eyed look that Aiko gave him hinted that she had sensed something was wrong, so he hastily corrected with a rueful grimace to soften the effect of his mood. "I hate it too." The suspicion seemed to ebb after a few seconds—he all but sighed in relief, carefully calming himself. It wouldn't be helpful to introduce her to Madara or Tobi. She needed a sense of stability, to see him as her rock and protector. No one wanted to give that role to someone mentally unbalanced.
"Hmm." Her chin tilted down, and she stared thoughtfully at the grass. "Does that mean we were going to do something about it, or are we just abstaining from their system? It seems like we're still perpetuating that kind of crap by running missions like this," Aiko pointed out distastefully. "We didn't mean to play into it, but Atsushi was going to use and toss us the same way." She paused for a moment, and thoughtfully added, "Of course, he didn't get away with it."
Obito took a moment to wish she were a little less bright. It had taken him a long time to come to terms with that apparent contradiction.
"Sometimes you have to use the tools of a broken system to dismantle it," he deflected. "Yes, we have a plan. It does require us to sink to their level for a time."
They grimaced in unison. It wasn't like Obito particularly liked killing people. He didn't, whenever he could avoid it.
"It's convoluted, though. I don't know how well I can explain it."
That was a damned lie, he'd all but prepared notecards for the very practiced way he wanted to frame this discussion. He could feel her eyes on him, but that didn't stop him from sinking down into the grass and folding his hands behind his head. After a moment, the pressure of the mask pushing against the grass and then his head was vexing enough that he pulled the damn thing off entirely and lightly tossed it aside.
Taking off the mask was useful to create the illusion that he had nothing to hide, but it was still prudent to be sure that she couldn't look at his face while he talked. She wasn't as clueless as he had initially supposed, unfortunately.
As he had predicted, Aiko seemed to feel awkward staring down at him and mimicked his movement after a moment.
"What do you remember about genjutsu?"
It was very nearly a trick question—she shouldn't remember anything. Her answer was satisfying.
"Right then." Obito licked his lips, oddly nervous at giving this sales pitch. It hadn't convinced him at first. Not until he'd lost his reasons to go back to Konoha.
Then again, Aiko had no loyalties to anyone other than him. She should be much less resistant.
'Kami, I'm just as bad as Madara. I know it'll all work out in the end, but if she really knew what was going on, she wouldn't want to help me.'
"Obito?"
"Right, sorry." He let sheepishness color his tone. "You've got to understand, all the things that are wrong with people are mistakes. Aberrations. When someone is greedy and short-sighted like that, it's not really their fault. They can't help it. Either because they were raised that way, or because there's just something wrong in their head, or even because they live in such a broken system, people aren't intrinsically bad. They do bad things for other reasons."
The dubious silence that met his statement implied that she didn't see the obvious solution.
"So you remove all that," Obito said quietly. "Without the distraction of material greed and physical bodies, a lot of vices disappear altogether. The baseless traditions and myriad of little cruelties that enable the perpetuation of greed and senseless violence aren't anything real. They're not an army to be fought or out-maneuvered. They can't be crushed. In order to defeat them, you have to either kill or overpower every single person who buys into it." He shook his head, despite knowing that she couldn't see that. "and that would be one of their strategies," Obito spat, disgusted. "Crude and cruel. Remember, most people aren't bad at all. They just don't know any better, even the shinobi."
Aiko had sat up, and was watching him talk with steady teal eyes and a slightly tilted head.
At least she was paying attention, even if she wasn't nodding along. He carefully met her eyes and forged ahead, using his hands as he talked. He was gaining enthusiasm now, hoping that she would catch some of his energy.
"It's hard to accept that what you know is wrong, so most people wouldn't agree that those problems should be fixed. But an illness like that—a cancer like the governments that recruit child soldiers and send them out to kill other children—it needs to be fought, even if people don't like that at first. A doctor wouldn't let a child avoid getting medical care because she finds it frightening," he stressed pointedly. "It's the same thing! I don't want to hurt anyone, and I don't like that they won't work with me. If there was a way to talk people around and fix everything that's wrong with this world, then I would do that. But there isn't. What there is, is a way to-" he waved a hand irritably, as if struggling for the right word. "To treat everyone," Obito burst out, snapping his fingers. "I can stop them from hurting each other and anyone else! I just need… I need…"
"What?" Aiko burst out, leaning over him. She went back to biting her lower lip an instant later, clearly transfixed.
'Gotcha.'
He looked away slightly to break eye contact, letting his eyes soften and his face settle into a sorrowful sort of seriousness. The expression was not at all natural to him.
"There are nine people that have to die in order for that to happen," he said quietly. After a moment, he grimaced and sucked in air through his teeth. "Well, sort of."
"How can people sort of die?" Aiko asked curiously, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.
Odd… she didn't seem like she was going to judge at all that it would be necessary to hunt nine targets.
"They're already dead, in a way," Obito said solemnly. "It's the most monstrous thing that shinobi villages do, actually. They make infants into human sacrifices so that they can use demonic power as superweapons. The resulting mixture of human and demonic energy in the child's body is called a jinchuuriki."
There was a pause.
"That's almost cartoonishly evil. Like, if I was going to write examples of things that are evil, I might have come up with that on my own."
"But it's true," he countered. "Make no mistake, the person is already lost the instant that the bargain is made, despite being unable to consent. It works by sealing one of the most powerful demons in the world into the child's body. The person is… sort of alive," Obito added grudgingly. "If you can call that living. But they're just a tool for their village. They don't have rights or agency. If they were to run or try to choose a different lifestyle, their village would just kill them and put the demon in a new host."
Aiko looked awfully adorable with her chin propped on her knees and her big blue-green eyes all but popping against the color of her dirty, messy hair. It took some effort to merely blink up at her with a furrowed brow and sad eyes.
Her coppery ponytail slipped over a dirty shoulder when she cocked her head to the side. "Why does that mean they have to die? Because they would be used by the villages to stop us?"
"That too," Obito said honestly. Or they would try, at least. "But not exactly. You see, in order to change everyone's minds without hurting them, we need an enormous amount of power. We have to take all nine of those parasitic demons from their hosts and trap them where no one else can get to them. That means the villages won't be killing any more infants. It would also allow me to use them to cast the biggest genjutsu that there has ever been." She was staring, transfixed, when he reached up and tapped at the side of his head. "I have a bloodline limit called the Sharingan." He didn't even blink as he seamlessly activated the dojutsu.
Aiko recoiled in mild surprise as she saw his red eyes for the first time. She seemed more fascinated than frightened, however, when she leaned back in and let her lips part slightly as she admired the change.
"It can do a fair few things," Obito added fairly. She would find that out anyway. "But the most important thing about the Sharingan is that it can control the bijuu. Which would be why Konoha killed all the Uchiha they could get their hands on," he added in a tone of disgust.
Technically, that wasn't a lie at all. He loved when that worked out. Lying to Aiko was surprisingly hard, because of his conscience moreso than because she was particularly alert.
"The Uchiha clan was actually one of Konoha's founding villages. But it was a threat to their control of jinchuuriki, so it had to go," Obito added quietly. It was sad, when he really thought about it. "But you don't want to hear about that. Anyway. Because I have the Sharingan, I can siphon the energy I need from the demons without having to make a deal with them. The technique that I want to use was invented by my ancestor, Uchiha Madara. He managed to use it to a smaller scale for a time, but he didn't have the energy to affect nearly enough people. When he was chased out of Konoha, he had to give up on it for himself."
"If he gave up, how do you know about this?" Aiko asked skeptically. "How well did the technique work when Madara did it?"
She had an inconvenient habit of asking the wrong questions. Madara hadn't gone into much detail as to how he knew the ultimate genjutsu would work as it should. Obito suspected that the older man was trying to make himself invaluable to the plan precisely so that Obito didn't do what he was contemplating.
"When Konoha left me to die, Madara saved me."
The words felt like an ugly lie, even though they were true. Madara had kept Obito from dying, but that had been against Obito's will. His body had been so very broken. The genetic material that Madara had fused into his bones and flesh had been painful beyond words to meld with, and Obito suspected that it had changed him in more ways than the obvious. He had seemed older than he should have after the fusing was completed, as though the material had aged him closer to his prime, and he felt too young for a 32 year old man. It really would have been kinder to let Obito die in peace, thinking he had accomplished something.
Then again, if Madara had been interested in kindness, he wouldn't have taken Obito's crushed and ruptured chest cavity as an invitation to brand his broken body with a loyalty seal before Madara had set to attempting to fix Obito.
"He was very old," Obito continued, hoping that she would forget he hadn't answered both of her questions. "Madara knew that he didn't have the ability to carry out his plan. So he entrusted me with that dream, as his protégé." The smile he managed felt awkward and damning. "And I guess you're my protégé now. You wanted to help make sure that no one had a chance to make another jinchuuriki. You have personal reasons," he added awkwardly. This part was a gamble, but…
"Your family, the Uzumaki, are famous because they have a special chakra that make them optimal jinchuuriki," Obito said gently. Disquiet registered on Aiko's face almost immediately. "There are very few Uzumaki left, because the village they came from was destroyed in order to hurt Konoha, who used Uzumaki for their jinchuuriki sacrifices."
A few inches from his head, Aiko's hand curled into a fist in the dirt. "That doesn't sound like you're leading anywhere good," she remarked bleakly.
Obito managed a huffing laugh. "No, I'm not," he agreed. "You came very close to being used that way. There were only two child Uzumaki in Konoha when they last needed a sacrifice."
Her face was very pale.
"Now that you've left, you're a very valuable target," he warned. "Even an adult Uzumaki is a better sacrifice than an infant from any other line. Worse, they could want to…" He coughed, genuinely uncomfortable with his next statement. It was true, though. "To use you to make more Uzumaki," Obito added awkwardly. He was sure his face was scarlet.
He was relatively certain that the family traits that made Uzumaki stellar jinchuuriki were passed down in the female line, and he probably wasn't the only one who made the supposition. He'd never heard of a male Uzumaki with chakra chains, after all, and Kumo had been pretty desperate to get their hands on Kushina until she made a name for herself.
Really, it seemed likely that he had inadvertently been the reason Aiko was safe from being used as a jinchuuriki. Snatching her brother had put the focus on him, and meant that the boy had been the infant close enough nearby when Obito ripped out the Kyuubi.
Funny how things like that worked out. He couldn't imagine the boy with Minato's face and a demon in his belly being as enjoyable to keep around as his sister was.
Aiko looked appropriately horrified. "Is that why you told me to use a false name?"
Obito nodded solemnly. "That's a large part of it, yes. No one cares about me," he pointed out depreciatingly. It was true, damnit all. "But lots of villages would want you. Not just Konoha. You have to be very, very careful. It's a good thing that you're fast. If anyone comes after you and I'm not with you…" Obito grimaced. "Well, it won't be good, that's all."
~~~
"I think that went well," Obito said mildly once Aiko had dragged herself inside the house.
Zetsu, who had been hovering nearby, seemed to sense that she had finally left and made a bee-line for his position. Obito met him calmly.
"Obito," White Zetsu began. "About the mission and preparing the-Aiko (he changed hastily, not wanting to know what Obito would think about calling his pet by an unflattering moniker) for your mission-"
"Don't worry about it."
Zetsu, who had in fact been worrying about telling Obito that he had failed to control the situation, stilled cautiously.
"Our little talk went really well," Obito waved his hand lazily. He pushed himself up, giving a stretch. "I assume you are ready to go with me to Kumo tomorrow?"
White Zetsu warred with avoiding Obito's irritation and the desire to be honest. Black Zetsu opened their mouth first. "Of course," he graveled out.
"Excellent."
~~~
Her head felt fit to burst when she crawled into the shower and finally washed off the blood caked under her fingernails. It was a lot to take in.
'I'm starting to think that Obito needs my help more than I need his.'
She didn't know that she believed that the jutsu Obito talked about would work. Aiko hadn't missed that he had avoided going into the mechanics of the trick. Besides, it didn't seem plausible to her that there was a way to quash all resistance and make a perfect world, even if it was moral to do so. She was a killer, not a philosopher, so Aiko didn't dwell on that very long. It wasn't her problem.
The worry that ate at her most was that Obito seemed so invested in the plan. The passion in his voice had bled into fanatical territory. Before that discussion, Aiko wouldn't have pegged him as an optimist, but it was clear that he was getting by on more faith and hope than facts.
'That can only lead to tears,' Aiko mused, lathering up her hair with a truly unnecessary amount of scentless shampoo. 'And…' she felt guilty for even thinking it, but, 'He doesn't seem that stable already.'
She was no expert, but there was something truly disturbing about the way that his voice jumped registers as he talked. Obito didn't even seem aware of the tendency. Aiko had no idea what it meant, but it put her hackles up and made her wary. Not for herself—she didn't think there was a chance that he would hurt her—but for Obito himself.
'He needs someone to watch out for him,' she thought, feeling embarrassed for his sake. But she didn't want to see Obito disappointed.
There was no helping it. All she could do would be to hang around and keep Obito company to be sure she was available when he needed help. Of course, that didn't do anything about her sinking suspicion that he needed more help than she could give him. What else could she do?
Aiko mulled those thoughts over in the next months, as she trained both alone and with Obito in between occasional errands and tasks for him. He was too busy to spend much time with her, so she had to find other ways to keep entertained.
She chose finding her own work. Zetsu was still dismayed about being her babysitter, but he enabled her easily enough by putting her in contact with a few moderately shady characters who could pass work her way. Nothing she found that way was particularly stimulating, of course. There were always jobs convincing clients to pay, passing along blackmail, discreetly moving materials, and serving as inconspicuous protection on business deals that otherwise might go wrong.
The first job that she ever did on her own that way involved exchanging a package in one city for a great deal of money in another. Aiko came home with a fistful of cash and a grin. Obito met her at the door, absolutely furious.
"Where the hell have you been?" He grabbed her by the shoulders, not tightly enough to be painful but with enough force that it was clear he didn't want her to go.
Aiko felt a line between her eyebrows crease. "Is something wrong?"
Obito sputtered incoherently, but his grip loosened. Once his fingers stopped digging in, she could feel that they were shaking slightly. "I came back and you were gone," he finally managed. "You haven't been here for days, I checked."
Her eyebrows rose. "You leave all the time," she pointed out practically. "For weeks at a time. What am I supposed to do, write sad poetry?" Aiko cocked her head to the side.
That seemed to do the trick. Guiltily, he sighed, giving a gentle squeeze to one shoulder and using the other hand to tug lightly at a forelock of messy hair. "Alright, I'm a terrible housemate. I'm sure we can all agree on that. I've been really busy, it's just-"
"You don't have to apologize," Aiko interrupted. "I'm not mad. I just get bored." She stepped back just enough that she had room to dig around in her front pocket.
Obito blinked in mild confusion when her hand came into view with a wad of cash.
"I've been working," she explained proudly. "This week I learned about the transportation of illicit materials! Did you know that things like cigarettes and pornography are taxed really highly?" Aiko stuck her tongue out in mild disgust. "Which is dumb. So-"
By this point, Obito's eyes were already glazing over while the speed of her voice increased. He sort of tuned out, until the words-
"and they gave me my own copies, 'ttebane, and I don't see why this stuff is so restricted! Did you know it's banned in five countries?"
She sounded far too impressed by that.
"Wait, what's banned?" Obito asked a bit helplessly, having become very lost.
There was a pause, while Aiko realized he hadn't been listening, glared at him, and then shrugged it off in favor of removing her backpack and digging through it. A couple of seconds later, she made a triumphant sound and lifted a garish book high. "This!" Aiko said proudly, smiling at her prize as if it was a kitten or something similarly marvelous.
Icha Icha Paradise.
"Of course you brought home porn," Obito muttered, rubbing at his temple. "Why wouldn't you?"
"I can't believe he gave this to me for free," Aiko agreed, missing the point completely. "You know, it's actually pretty good, I was reading on the way over. That was why it took so long, I can't read and run, but I can read while walking."
"But you're too young to be reading that," Obito argued, feeling that was a relevant point.
The expression on Aiko's face indicated that was not an acceptable response.
Obito stared, considering his possible options. Tell her that pornography was inappropriate and ask her to get rid of it? It seemed like an overreaction, and not likely to sway her besides. Chide her for being so easily distracted and getting involved in possibly dangerous work? He couldn't blame her for getting bored.
"Just… tell me when you're leaving again," he decided tiredly. "Leave a note or something detailing where you've gone and why, so I don't come here and think you've been eaten by wolves." With that, he started for the stairs, already dreaming of the lumpy futon that was his when he slept here.
"Obito?" came the small voice.
"I'm going to bed," he said flatly. "I feel very old and tired."
After that, she got pretty good about remembering to leave notes. He didn't need the extra worry.
~~~
"Tsunade-dono," Terumi Mei greeted levelly. Damn her, she was perfectly polished despite the situation.
The Hokage managed a smile without any real emotion behind it. Why would anyone else be as ragged as the Konoha delegation? They hadn't been invaded. Tsunade could hardly complain about that either. Perhaps when the blow had been fresh, but now that months had passed since Nagato had come to Konoha it would be impolitic and unwise to remind the others of her country's lingering weakness.
"Mei-dono," she reciprocated. It was an odd mix of familiarity and formality, but it would work. It would be better to have allies going into this mess. "Shall we?"
The two Kage found their seats at the mediation table. All but one of the main Kage were assembled for the first time in kami knows how long. The lone 'Kage' of a minor village was very out of place.
Pity that it was about something like this.
"Ame has recognized one Konan as their representative," the Kazekage began calmly, nodding towards the blue-haired woman seated serenely alone. Her two bodyguards had been left outside of the room. Everyone else's were present, which was why Sabaku no Temari was gracing the Ame representative with a decidedly predatory smile. (and Tsunade was uneasy about what her hostility might mean for her brother's decision-making) "The deliberations of this meeting will be her responsibility."
"I don't think that Ame needs a Kage," A objected in what passed for his 'indoor' voice. "It wouldn't be a first time that a village paid for their war crimes by dissolution."
"In past, that has always come when a village was too battered to maintain functioning," Gaara rebutted. "There is no historical or legal precedent for a council being empowered to dissolve the sovereignty of another shinobi nation."
"I am sure that we possess the military strength to make that happen," Mei added thoughtfully. "Strength does not make a wise course of action, however. It would create a dangerous precedent."
Tsunade relaxed ever so slightly. She couldn't make that argument easily without her personal interests being pointed out. The Raikage had come into this meeting already simmering on a low boil. When he lost his temper, Konoha couldn't afford to be the focus of his anger. Not now, at least. Not while they were so weakened.
Her aim going into this was to defuse as much of the tension as possible, pacify the Raikage, strengthen her ties with her allies, and hopefully end up with aid in reconstruction efforts. Not physical aid, of course—monetary and material. Tsunade couldn't afford any more breaches in security.
Ame was almost an afterthought for her. She was almost certain that Nagato was dead and therefore unable to pay for his crimes. Tsunade was far too old to put revenge over human welfare.
Her weariness was not the common feeling. The Raikage wasn't the only country who (rather reasonably) felt disinclined to trust Ame to their own devices. They wouldn't escape punishment, but views on what that should be differed.
It was common practice that the loser of a conflict had to financially reimburse the victors in exchange for mercy. Somewhat despicably, Tsunade found that her only real ally for that possibility was Konan.
The other leaders were in favor of a more permanent solution to defang Ame. Mei was clearly tempted by the Raikage's desire to dissolve Ame, but too prudent to go through with such a rash action. She brought up a more permanent occupation as an option, as well as parceling out bits of the country to diminish the area of Ame's influence. Not coincidentally, farmland far superior to what Mist owned would be part of what was carved out.
Tsunade realized with mounting trepidation that the Raikage was warming to that idea, once it became clear that no one would support his crusade.
That was the worst possible outcome, for her interests. If Kumo gained a base so close to Fire Country, it would only be a matter of time until they began to creep along the border and encroach on their most despised enemies. Besides, Ame had once been an ally, and could be again one day if the country wasn't carved into pitifully small chunks.
Through it all, Gaara remained quietly neutral.
'At least there's no possible way to come to a consensus on this for a very long time,' Tsunade consoled herself. 'Even if the majority desires to carve up Ame, arguments over the choicest bits of land will take years.'
"What we need," Tsunade interjected once the room had become quiet, "is to put aside this and focus on tracking down the rest of Akatsuki. We know that at least three members have escaped."
She tried very hard not to hate the thin smile that creased Konan's lips.
"This is a distraction," A said dismissively. He slapped a hand down on the table and glared around the room. "Three missing nin are no threat to the orderly operations of the great nations. An entire country getting away with allying themselves with a terrorist organization, on the other hand," he sneered, "sets a dangerous precedent, as the Mizukage would say."
Mei visibly hesitated before responding, eyes darting between Tsunade and the Raikage. "I, too, feel that most of the danger presented by Akatsuki has passed," she admitted carefully.
'Oh, hell.'
She had hoped that it would be easy to remind the alliance of their original goals. The danger of Akatsuki certainly was not past. But how could she possibly convince her allies of that?
The most compelling piece of information she had to support her claim that the Akatsuki were still a threat was the theory that their leader had been Uchiha Madara. However, that claim was based on flimsy evidence at best.
There was zero possibility that she would tell the other nations about Aiko's apparent visions (hell, she hadn't even told Naruto and Sasuke), and Itachi's suppositions would not hold up as hard evidence.
The only thing that 'Tobi' had done that made Konoha recognize him as a dangerous enemy was break into Konoha at least twice, kill an ANBU operative while stalking a Jounin, and then come back later to kidnap that Jounin and all the documentation on her career.
Tsunade absolutely could not tell the other nations that her country was so weak that her personal apprentice hadn't been able to stop one person from kidnapping the Yondaime's daughter from her sickbed. The symbolism was nearly painful—it wasn't Shizune's fault, tired, overworked, and unwittingly up against a master of his craft; but it would still be a hell of a rhetorical coup.
Sasuke had already made the tactical error of telling the Raikage that Aiko was missing in action. Due to the timing of that poorly-planned decision, however, the Raikage would almost certainly have assumed that Aiko had been misplaced during the attack on Konoha and not independently kidnapped.
No, the truth of that situation would have to stay buried. For now, she would keep her lips pressed together and if anyone happened to ask about Aiko, she was unavailable. She was a good Jounin, yes, but she was far more important for what she represented as one of Konoha's rising youth and the Yondaime's oldest child.
'And she's still alive,' Tsunade reminded herself. 'She could come back on her own, or Tobi will make a mistake and we'll find her.' At least, if you asked Kakashi she was undoubtedly alive. Jiraiya had been skeptical of the Hiraishin seal as evidence, pointing out that it seemed more likely that Aiko had found a way to make it independent rather than that it had magically survived her first death but would still reliably indicate if she were to die again. Tsunade preferred Kakashi's theory for now. Seeing her teammate be on the skeptical side of an argument left a bitter taste in her mouth. Jiraiya was always the optimist.
Having important but unconfirmed information about the remainder of Akatsuki proved to be even more frustrating than expected. Her colleagues engaged in subtle sniping and power plays while the Ame representative watched quietly.
It was certainly in her favor to allow this process to be drawn out as long as possible. The more time she had to prepare before sanctions were leveled, the more preparation her people could do to ensure the blood-money drawn from them wouldn't leave Ame citizens starving in the streets. Tsunade could hardly begrudge her that.
In the end, after five days of deliberation, nothing was decided and the great leaders left in disgust. Their business wasn't resolved, but they could hardly afford to yell at each other until they came to agreement—their villages needed them. That didn't mean the issue was ended, of course, but it meant that there was time before they met again, and time before a decision was reached. Time for Konoha to grow strong once more.
With that in mind…
'It's time to start training Naruto and Sasuke as my successors,' Tsunade decided grimly as she slowed to a walk, relaxing now that she was within the forested lands of her ancient homeland.
She guiltily didn't think about Aiko. It had been over two months since she'd gone missing, without so much as a whisper or sighting. If she had been back in the village or came back soon, Aiko had the same blood claim as Naruto, and a good deal more viciousness that might make her better suited for the hokageship during a time of war.
Whoever had the hat in ten or perhaps even five years, it wouldn't be Tsunade.
She was old, and not as powerful as she had been twenty years ago. It would be pure foolishness to act as though she could maintain internal control and international respect indefinitely. Either one of the boys would be powerful enough to do the job, but it was best not to put all her eggs in one basket when war was so obviously wavering on the horizon. Optimally power wasn't the only requirement: but as of now, neither of them was mature enough to take over her job. Hopefully it wouldn't be much longer until they got their shit together.
"But if they're not ready in time," she said out loud, "You'll have to hold down the fort."
Kakashi looked up, mildly confused about what he'd missed but somehow experiencing a sinking feeling. "Pardon?" He had probably gotten distracted with thoughts of his current project—tracking down records of Uchiha to see if there were any suspiciously missing corpses that might be Madara's current vehicle.
Tsunade jumped a little, having forgotten that her bodyguard wasn't privy to the conversation in her head. She waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, nothing. You might have to be Hokage."
He walked into a tree.