what if tsunade wants naruto to get married with anko

# Chapter 1: The Hokage's Decree

Sunlight slashed through the half-drawn blinds of the Hokage's office, painting golden stripes across the mountain of paperwork threatening to devour Tsunade's massive desk. The Fifth Hokage pressed her fingertips against her temples, the faint throb of an impending headache pulsing beneath her skin. Three empty sake bottles stood like defeated soldiers at the edge of her workspace—evidence of last night's deliberations.

"He's here, Lady Tsunade," Shizune announced, sliding the door open with practiced efficiency.

Tsunade straightened, sweeping the sake bottles into her desk drawer with a fluid motion that betrayed years of practice. "Send him in."

The orange-clad figure that bounded through the doorway radiated energy that seemed to instantly brighten the stale office air. Naruto Uzumaki's grin stretched across his face, unchanged despite the three years he'd spent training with Jiraiya. Three months back in the village, and he still entered every room like he was announcing his presence to the world.

"Hey, Grandma Tsunade! Finally got a real mission for me?" Naruto's voice boomed as he planted himself in front of her desk, rocking back and forth on his heels with barely contained excitement.

Tsunade's honey-colored eyes narrowed at the "Grandma" comment but she let it slide. "Sit down, Naruto."

Something in her tone cut through his enthusiasm. The boy—no, the young man, she corrected herself mentally—tilted his head slightly before dropping into the chair facing her desk.

"What's up? You look serious." His voice lowered, blue eyes suddenly sharp with concern. "Is it the Akatsuki?"

"No," Tsunade folded her hands on the desk. "This is about your future in Konoha."

Outside, a cloud drifted across the sun, momentarily darkening the office as if on cue. Tsunade's face remained partially shadowed as she studied the young shinobi before her—the legacy of the Fourth Hokage, the village's jinchūriki, and arguably its greatest liability and asset wrapped into one loud, unpredictable package.

"My future?" Confusion furrowed Naruto's brow. "What about it? I'm going to be Hokage someday, believe it!"

"That's precisely what we need to discuss." Tsunade rose from her chair and moved to the window, gazing out at the sprawling village with its bustling streets and the stone faces watching over it all. "The path to that future isn't as straightforward as you might think."

She turned to face him, her expression grave. "The village council has been... vocal about certain concerns. Your three-year absence with Jiraiya, while necessary for your training, has only fueled speculation and distrust among some factions."

"Distrust?" Naruto's voice cracked with disbelief. "After everything I've done for the village? After Pain? After—"

"I know," Tsunade cut him off sharply, then softened her tone. "I know what you've sacrificed. But politics doesn't operate on fairness, Naruto. The Nine-Tails will always make you a target of fear for some people, no matter your actions."

His face hardened, jaw clenching as he absorbed her words. The whisker marks on his cheeks seemed to deepen as the muscles in his face tightened.

"So what am I supposed to do? Keep proving myself forever?" The edge in his voice couldn't quite mask the hurt beneath.

Tsunade returned to her desk and pulled a slim folder from beneath a stack of documents. "I've been considering a solution. One that would solidify your position in the village hierarchy and silence many of your critics."

"What kind of solution?" Suspicion laced his words.

Tsunade met his gaze directly. "A political marriage."

The words landed like explosive tags in the quiet office. Naruto blinked once, twice, then erupted from his chair, sending it crashing backward onto the floor.

"A WHAT?!" His voice echoed off the walls. "You can't be serious! I'm seventeen! I'm not—I don't—"

"Sit down," Tsunade commanded, her tone brooking no argument.

Naruto righted the chair with a violent jerk and dropped back into it, his entire body vibrating with tension. "This is crazy. Who would I even..." His words trailed off as horror dawned across his features. "Not Hinata? Everyone knows she's—"

"Not Hinata Hyūga," Tsunade interrupted. "The Hyūga clan would never permit it without exploiting the situation for political advantage."

Relief flooded his face, followed immediately by renewed confusion. "Then who?"

Tsunade took a deep breath. "Anko Mitarashi."

The name hung in the air between them. Naruto's expression cycled through confusion, shock, and finally landed on complete disbelief.

"The crazy snake lady from the Chūnin Exams?!" His voice reached a pitch that likely carried all the way to the Academy. "She's like... she's older than me! And she's—she's—" he gesticulated wildly, apparently unable to articulate exactly what Anko was.

"She's a respected jōnin with an exemplary service record," Tsunade finished for him, her tone crisp. "And she's twenty-four, not ancient. The age difference is not unprecedented for shinobi marriages."

"But—but—" Naruto sputtered, his hands gripping the edge of Tsunade's desk so hard his knuckles whitened. "Why her? Why me? Why this crazy idea at all?!"

Tsunade's expression softened marginally. "Perhaps I should explain how I reached this decision."

---

Three days earlier

Rain lashed against the windows of the Hokage's office, the late-night storm matching Tsunade's turbulent thoughts. Lightning briefly illuminated the room where she sat across from Shizune, sake cups between them, though Shizune's remained untouched.

"It's getting worse, not better," Tsunade murmured, swirling the clear liquid in her cup. "Danzō's faction is gaining support. The whispers about Naruto being a liability have only grown since his return."

"Surely his training with Lord Jiraiya has—" Shizune began.

"Made him stronger, yes. Which only frightens them more." Tsunade knocked back her sake in one swift motion. "They see his power growing and worry about the Nine-Tails. They see his independence and worry about his loyalty."

"That's absurd! Naruto has never shown anything but absolute dedication to Konoha."

"You know that. I know that." Tsunade refilled her cup. "But fear is rarely rational, and Danzō is skilled at cultivating it."

Shizune's brow furrowed as she gathered scrolls spread across the desk—personnel files of various shinobi. "These candidates you've been reviewing... you can't seriously be considering an arranged marriage for Naruto?"

"It's a tradition as old as the hidden villages," Tsunade replied, her fingers drumming against the worn wood of her desk. "Political marriages have stabilized many situations like this."

"But who would even be appropriate? The clan heirs are all too politically complicated. The Hyūga would demand concessions regarding the Nine-Tails' power. The Yamanaka girl is too deeply embedded in Intelligence. The civilian-born kunoichi lack the status to accomplish what you need."

Tsunade pulled a file from the bottom of the stack, sliding it across the desk. Shizune's eyes widened as she read the name.

"Anko Mitarashi? You can't be serious."

"Why not?" Tsunade challenged. "She's a respected jōnin without clan entanglements. She's proven her loyalty to Konoha repeatedly, despite her... complicated past."

"That's precisely the issue," Shizune protested. "Her connection to Orochimaru already makes her position precarious. Linking her to Naruto could damage his standing further, not improve it."

Tsunade leaned forward, her eyes sharp with sudden clarity. "Or it creates a powerful narrative—two of Konoha's most loyal shinobi, both carrying burdens not of their making, united in service to the village." She tapped the file. "Think about it. Both marked by powerful, feared shinobi. Both subjected to whispers and suspicion despite repeatedly proving themselves."

Shizune's expression remained doubtful. "Even if that logic holds, neither will agree to this."

Lightning flashed again, casting Tsunade's determined face in harsh relief. "They'll agree because they both understand sacrifice for the greater good. And because, ultimately, this protects them both."

---

Naruto sat stunned as Tsunade finished recounting her deliberations. Rain now pattered softly against the windows, as if the weather itself was echoing the storm from her memory.

"You can't do this," he finally said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "I'm not a political pawn. And neither is Anko-sensei."

"No, you're not pawns," Tsunade agreed. "You're shinobi of the Hidden Leaf. And sometimes that means making difficult choices for the village's stability."

"But I—" Naruto's fists clenched in his lap. "What about my feelings? What about Sakura?"

Tsunade's expression softened slightly. "Naruto... Sakura's feelings for Sasuke haven't changed. You know that."

The truth of her words struck like a physical blow. Naruto flinched, then rallied. "That doesn't matter! It should be my choice who I—who I—"

"In an ideal world, yes," Tsunade conceded. "But we live in the world we have, not the one we wish for."

She rose again, circling her desk to stand directly before him. "This arrangement would provide protection for both of you. For you, political standing to counter those who fear you as a jinchūriki. For Anko, support against those who still distrust her due to Orochimaru's influence."

Naruto's eyes flashed defiantly. "So we're just supposed to get married because we're both village outcasts? That's your big solution?"

"You're both valuable shinobi who deserve better than the suspicion you continue to face," Tsunade corrected sharply. "This gives you both legitimate political protection while neutralizing some of the most dangerous factions working against you."

She placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension vibrating through him. "The arrangement would have terms, Naruto. It wouldn't be a traditional marriage in all aspects. But it would create an alliance that protects you both."

Naruto shrugged her hand off and stood, his blue eyes blazing. "No way. I won't do it. I'm going to become Hokage on my own terms, not by playing political games I don't even understand."

He turned toward the door, his movements sharp with anger. "And what about Anko? Does she even know about this crazy plan?"

"She will soon," Tsunade replied calmly. "I've arranged for her to be informed today."

Naruto's hand froze on the doorknob. "So I'm the first to know? Lucky me." The bitterness in his voice was palpable.

"Naruto," Tsunade called as he began to pull the door open. "Consider this carefully before you make your final decision. The stakes are higher than you realize."

He paused, his back to her, shoulders rigid with tension. "I've spent my whole life fighting to be seen for who I am, not what's inside me. I'm not going to let you or anyone else turn my life into a political statement."

The door slammed behind him with enough force to rattle the windows, leaving Tsunade alone in her office. She sighed heavily, returning to her desk and retrieving a hidden sake bottle from a different drawer.

As she poured herself a measure, the shadows in the corner of the office shifted. An ANBU operative in a cat mask materialized from seemingly nowhere, kneeling before her desk.

"You heard everything?" Tsunade asked, not looking up from her drink.

"Yes, Lady Hokage."

"Find Anko Mitarashi. Deliver the same proposal." Tsunade's fingers tightened around her cup. "And Neko... observe her reaction carefully. I need to know exactly where she stands."

The ANBU vanished in a flicker of movement, leaving Tsunade alone with her sake and the weight of decisions that would shape not just two lives, but potentially the future of the village itself. Outside, the rain intensified, drumming against the glass like accusatory fingertips.

"Forgive me, Naruto," she whispered to the empty room. "Sometimes protection comes in forms we don't initially recognize."

She downed her sake in a single swallow, her gaze drifting to the stone face of the Fourth Hokage visible through the rain-streaked window. "I hope I'm doing right by your son, Minato."

The only answer was the steady rhythm of the rain and the distant rumble of thunder, rolling across Konoha like the ominous harbinger of storms yet to come.

# Chapter 3: Terms of Engagement

Dawn broke over Konoha in a riot of crimson and gold, painting the Hokage Monument in dramatic light that seemed to bring the stone faces to life. The village stirred beneath this fiery sky—shopkeepers raising shutters, shinobi departing for missions, and two particular figures making their separate ways toward the same destination.

Naruto arrived first, his usual orange ensemble replaced by more subdued attire—dark pants and a muted jacket over a mesh shirt. The scrolls tucked under his arm threatened to slip as he shifted nervously from foot to foot outside Tsunade's office. Three days of research had left dark circles under his eyes, but a determined fire burned within them.

The soft pad of footsteps made him turn. Anko approached from the opposite end of the hallway, her usual tan overcoat cinched tighter than normal, dark eyes sharp and calculating. She carried a single slim folder with precise military bearing.

They regarded each other with wary acknowledgment.

"You look like hell," Anko observed, her voice carrying in the empty corridor.

"Library hours," Naruto explained, adjusting his armful of scrolls. "Turns out there's a lot of fine print in political marriages."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Anko's face. "Never thought I'd see the day Naruto Uzumaki voluntarily buried himself in research."

"Never thought I'd be shopping for marriage terms before my eighteenth birthday," he countered.

The door to Tsunade's office swung open before Anko could reply. Shizune beckoned them in, her expression carefully neutral, though her eyes betrayed surprise at their changed appearances.

Inside, Tsunade sat behind her desk like a queen holding court, hands steepled before her. Kakashi lounged against the far wall, his posture deceptively casual even as his single visible eye assessed them both with razor precision.

"I see you've both had time to consider my proposal," Tsunade began, her honey-colored eyes moving between them. The faintest hint of approval flickered across her features. "And judging by your arrivals, you've come prepared with responses."

"Conditions," Anko corrected, placing her folder on the desk with a sharp snap. "Not responses."

"Same," Naruto added, dumping his collection of scrolls beside Anko's neat folder. One unraveled dramatically, cascading over the edge of the desk in a waterfall of parchment. Anko's eyebrow twitched in what might have been annoyance or amusement.

Tsunade's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I expected nothing less." She nodded to Shizune, who produced a teapot and cups from a side table, the gentle clink of porcelain punctuating the tense atmosphere. "Well then, let's hear them."

Naruto and Anko exchanged a glance, a silent battle of wills over who would speak first. Surprisingly, Naruto yielded with a small nod. Anko squared her shoulders and flipped open her folder.

"First, separate residences," she began without preamble. "I keep my apartment; he keeps his."

"Unacceptable," Tsunade countered immediately. "The whole point is public perception of unity. Separate residences undermine that entirely."

"Then a shared residence with separate private spaces," Anko fired back. "Two bedrooms minimum, with clear boundaries."

"Agreed," Naruto interjected, earning a surprised glance from both women. "What? I value privacy too."

Tsunade nodded once. "Acceptable. Continue."

"Professional autonomy," Anko said, tapping a manicured nail against her document. "This arrangement doesn't affect my mission assignments, rank considerations, or placement within specialized units. I'm not becoming a housewife."

"As if anyone would mistake you for one," Kakashi murmured from his corner, eye crinkling with hidden amusement. Anko shot him a glare that could have stripped paint.

"Freedom from clan reproduction expectations," she continued, her voice taking on a harder edge. "I'm not a broodmare for producing little jinchūriki."

Naruto's face flamed scarlet. "I—that wasn't—I never—"

"Not saying it was your expectation," Anko clarified, sparing him a brief glance. "But it will be others'. I want it explicitly stated this marriage doesn't come with that obligation."

The room fell uncomfortably silent. Tsunade sipped her tea before responding. "Such terms can be arranged. However, should circumstances or feelings change—"

"They won't," Anko cut in firmly.

Tsunade inclined her head in acquiescence. "Your conditions are noted. Naruto?"

All eyes turned to the young shinobi, who straightened under the attention. He unrolled one of his scrolls with less finesse than Anko but with equal determination.

"This stays political," he stated, blue eyes fierce with conviction. "No pretending we're in love or anything. We're allies, not..." He gestured vaguely, words failing him.

"Lovers?" Kakashi supplied helpfully. Naruto's blush deepened to crimson.

"Yeah. That." He cleared his throat. "Also, this doesn't change my goal of becoming Hokage. If anything, it should help it—that's the whole point, right?"

"Indeed," Tsunade agreed, looking faintly impressed by his insight.

"And I keep my training schedule with Kakashi-sensei and the others," Naruto continued. "And my apartment—well, maybe not if we get a new place, but my stuff and my privacy."

He hesitated, then added more quietly, "And it's temporary. We try it for a while, and if it doesn't work, we can end it."

Tsunade's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "A trial period, then? How long would you propose?"

"One year," Anko answered before Naruto could speak. Their eyes met briefly across the desk, and something unspoken passed between them—not quite alliance, but a shared understanding.

"One year," Naruto echoed with a firm nod. "If it's not working for either of us after that, we call it off."

The Fifth Hokage leaned back in her chair, fingers drumming against the polished wood. "Your conditions are reasonable, if predictable." She glanced at Shizune, who nodded almost imperceptibly. "I believe we can accommodate these terms, with some adjustments to the presentation."

She rose and moved to the window, silhouetted against the morning light. "The official announcement will emphasize unity between two of Konoha's most loyal shinobi—both of whom have overcome connections to figures who threatened our village. The jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails and the former student of Orochimaru, united in service to the Leaf."

Anko's hand drifted unconsciously to her curse mark. "Using our burdens as a selling point. Charming."

"Using your triumphs over those burdens," Tsunade corrected sharply. "This narrative honors your loyalty despite the challenges you've both faced."

The door swung open with dramatic timing, admitting a tall figure with long white hair and distinctive red facial markings. Jiraiya strode in with his usual bombastic energy, only to freeze mid-step as he registered the gathering.

"Well, well," he drawled, recovering quickly. "I see the bride and groom are negotiating the prenuptials. Should I come back later?"

"You're late," Tsunade admonished, though without real heat. "What news?"

Jiraiya's expression shifted instantly from teasing to serious, the transformation startling in its completeness. "Akatsuki's on the move. My sources indicate they're accelerating their timetable for capturing the jinchūriki. Naruto's position is becoming more precarious by the day."

The atmosphere in the room chilled. Naruto's hands clenched into fists at his sides, while Anko's posture subtly shifted to something more alert, more predatory.

"Which is precisely why this arrangement has become necessary," Tsunade said, her gaze sweeping over them both. "Not merely for village politics, but for mutual protection."

Jiraiya moved further into the room, his presence somehow expanding to fill the space. "The political marriage has my endorsement. It creates a shield around Naruto—not just physical protection, but social and political insulation."

"And what does Anko get from this shield?" Naruto asked unexpectedly, his gaze sharp on his godfather.

Jiraiya's eyebrows rose slightly at the question. "Besides association with the future Hokage?" His teasing sobered when he met Anko's steely gaze. "Legitimacy beyond question. The village will see Tsunade's faith in you both. That carries weight that no amount of successful missions can equal."

A heavy silence descended as the reality of their situation crystallized. This wasn't merely political theater—it was survival strategy.

"So," Kakashi spoke into the stillness, pushing away from the wall with languid grace. "When's the happy day?"

---

The Jade Leaf teahouse stood as one of Konoha's oldest establishments, its weathered wooden beams and meticulously maintained garden speaking to generations of tradition. Located at the edge of the village's administrative district, it had witnessed countless political negotiations, clan meetings, and formal ceremonies over its storied history.

Today, it hosted perhaps its most unusual gathering yet.

Inside the private room, tatami mats cushioned the knees of village elders and clan representatives arranged in a precise semicircle. Fragrant incense curled toward the beamed ceiling, mingling with the delicate aroma of premium green tea prepared by the establishment's master.

Tsunade knelt at the head position, her formal Hokage robes a stark contrast to her usual attire. To her right sat Homura and Koharu, the village elders, their ancient faces impassive as carved stone. To her left, representatives from Konoha's major clans—Hyūga, Nara, Yamanaka, Akimichi, Inuzuka, and Aburame—maintained careful neutrality in their expressions.

The shoji screen slid open with a whisper, revealing Shizune in formal kimono. "They have arrived, Lady Hokage."

Tsunade inclined her head. "Send them in."

Naruto entered first, nearly unrecognizable in dark formal attire that emphasized the broadness of his shoulders and the striking blue of his eyes. His usual boundless energy seemed contained, channeled into a deliberate dignity that startled many present. Someone had managed to tame his wild blonde hair into something approaching neatness.

Anko followed, her transformation equally dramatic. Gone was the mesh armor and provocative styling. Instead, she wore a deep purple kimono patterned with subtle silver accents, her hair swept up to reveal the elegant line of her neck. Only the sharpness of her gaze remained unchanged, assessing the room with a predator's instinct.

Together, they created a striking image—young but powerful, their physical presence commanding attention even in silence.

"Esteemed councilors and clan representatives," Tsunade began, her voice carrying the weight of her office. "I present to you Naruto Uzumaki and Anko Mitarashi, whose union I have sanctioned for the benefit of Konoha."

Murmurs rippled through the assembly, quickly silenced by Tsunade's sharp glance.

"This match represents the union of two shinobi who have demonstrated unwavering loyalty to our village despite bearing burdens not of their own making." Her words echoed those used in their private meeting, now delivered with formal gravity. "Together, they symbolize Konoha's strength—our ability to transform challenge into victory."

The tea master moved forward in the practiced movements of centuries-old tradition, preparing the ceremonial tea with graceful precision. Naruto and Anko knelt opposite the assembly, their postures mirroring each other with eerie synchronicity that belied their brief association.

"The union will be formalized in three weeks' time," Tsunade continued, "with a ceremony befitting their status as distinguished shinobi of the Leaf."

Homura cleared his throat, rheumy eyes narrowing. "This is... unexpected, Lady Hokage. The jinchūriki's marriage has significant implications for village security and bloodline considerations."

"Implications which have been thoroughly considered," Tsunade countered smoothly. "Indeed, this union strengthens our security position considerably."

"And what of the Mitarashi woman's... connections?" Koharu asked, her voice thin but sharp as a blade.

Anko's expression didn't flicker, though Naruto, beside her, tensed visibly.

"Anko Mitarashi has proven her loyalty to Konoha repeatedly through exemplary service," Tsunade replied, steel underlying her measured tone. "Her insight into Orochimaru's methods has been invaluable to our village's security."

The tea master presented the first cup to Naruto, who accepted it with only the slightest hesitation. His hands, usually so confident wielding weapons, looked almost childlike cradling the delicate porcelain. He raised it in the traditional gesture before taking a careful sip.

Hiashi Hyūga spoke next, his pale eyes unreadable. "The Uzumaki clan, though diminished, carries significant heritage. This union creates no alliance with existing Konoha clans. What purpose does it serve?"

"It creates an alliance between two of our most capable shinobi," Shikaku Nara interjected before Tsunade could answer. His shrewd gaze moved between Naruto and Anko with calculating intelligence. "Sometimes strength comes not from bloodlines but from shared purpose."

The tea master presented the second cup to Anko, who received it with the fluid grace of a kunoichi trained in courtly arts as well as assassination. Her movements were precise, practiced—revealing more of her background than perhaps she intended.

"And what say the principals in this arrangement?" Shibi Aburame inquired, his high collar concealing most of his expression. "Do they enter this union willingly?"

All eyes turned to the couple. A heartbeat of silence stretched between them before Naruto spoke, his voice steadier than many expected.

"I serve the village," he said simply. "If this alliance strengthens Konoha and protects its people, then I accept it with honor."

The words were clearly rehearsed, yet delivered with a sincerity that was purely Naruto. Several elders exchanged surprised glances at his maturity.

Anko's response came with equal composure. "My loyalty is to the Leaf. This union reinforces that commitment and creates a stronger foundation for the village's future."

She passed her empty teacup to Naruto, who in turn handed his to her—the ritual exchange symbolic of their new connection. Their fingers brushed briefly in the transfer, the contact sending an almost imperceptible jolt through both of them, visible only to the most observant eyes in the room.

Kakashi, standing guard by the door, noticed. So did Shikaku Nara, whose lips curved in the ghost of a smile.

"The terms of this union have been established and formalized," Tsunade concluded, producing a scroll bearing her official seal. "Let it be recorded in the village register and honored by all present."

The formalities continued for another hour—ritual questions, ceremonial responses, the sharing of symbolic sake. Throughout it all, Naruto and Anko maintained their composed facades, betraying little of the internal turmoil that surely churned beneath the surface.

When they finally exited the teahouse into the late afternoon sunshine, a subtle release of tension passed between them—shoulders lowering fractionally, jaws unclenching, fingers flexing after being held so still for so long.

"That," Naruto muttered through barely moving lips, "was worse than an A-rank mission."

"Politics usually is," Anko replied, equally discreet while maintaining a public smile. "At least on missions, you can punch your problems."

A genuine laugh escaped him, quickly disguised as a cough when several passersby turned to look. The word had clearly spread—villagers paused in their activities to stare at the unlikely pair emerging from the formal tea ceremony.

"They're staring," Naruto observed uncomfortably.

"Get used to it," Anko advised, subtly guiding them toward less crowded streets. "We're going to be the main attraction for weeks."

"Great. Just what I always wanted." Despite his sarcasm, Naruto adjusted his pace to match hers, their steps falling into natural rhythm.

As they passed a busy market street, whispers followed in their wake like ripples in a pond:

"The Nine-Tails boy and Orochimaru's former student..."

"An arrangement by Lady Tsunade herself, I heard..."

"They look good together, don't they? So nervous, it's almost sweet..."

"Political, obviously, but still..."

Anko's hearing, sharp as any predator's, caught each whispered comment. Her expression remained carefully neutral, though her fingers twitched with the impulse to reach for weapons that weren't present in her formal attire.

"They think we're nervous because we're in love," she murmured, incredulity coloring her voice.

"Is that better or worse than them knowing the truth?" Naruto wondered.

Their eyes met briefly, a moment of genuine connection amid the performance they'd been maintaining all day. Something unspoken passed between them—not quite understanding, but perhaps the seed of it.

"Both," they said simultaneously, then blinked in surprise at the synchronicity.

A small, reluctant smile tugged at Anko's lips. "Maybe Tsunade knew what she was doing, pairing us. We're both outcasts in our own way."

"Former outcasts," Naruto corrected, with unexpected firmness. "Future Hokage, remember? And you're one of the village's top jōnin. We've both earned our places here."

Anko studied him with new appreciation, seeing beyond the loud, orange-clad genin she'd first encountered years ago. "When did you get so politically savvy, kid?"

"About three days ago, when I realized I needed to be." His grin flashed, bright and genuine. "Fast learner."

They turned a corner toward the Hokage Tower, where they were expected to report the outcome of the ceremony. The setting sun cast long shadows before them, stretching their silhouettes into elongated versions that seemed to reach toward some distant future.

"So," Naruto ventured after a comfortable silence, "what happens now?"

"Now?" Anko's voice took on a practical edge. "We find this shared residence Tsunade mentioned, establish those boundaries we negotiated, and figure out how to live alongside each other without causing mutual homicide."

"And learn to act like we don't hate this arrangement in public," Naruto added.

"I don't hate it," Anko said unexpectedly, her voice dropping to ensure only he could hear. "I resent the necessity, but the arrangement itself..." She shrugged one elegant shoulder. "There are worse political marriages in Konoha's history."

Naruto blinked in surprise. "Thanks... I think?"

"Don't let it go to your head," she warned, but without real heat. "We've got three weeks until the formal ceremony. Plenty of time for me to change my mind."

They climbed the steps to the Hokage Tower side by side, their formal attire catching the dying sunlight. To anyone watching—and many were—they appeared as a striking couple, their momentary hesitations easily mistaken for the natural uncertainty of a new relationship rather than the complex negotiation of a political arrangement.

Inside the Hokage's office, they found not only Tsunade but also Jiraiya, Kakashi, and Shizune, clearly awaiting their report.

"Well?" Tsunade prompted, amber eyes assessing them keenly.

Naruto and Anko exchanged a glance, another moment of unspoken communication passing between them with surprising ease.

"It's done," Anko answered for them both. "The council has received their performance."

"And they bought it," Naruto added, loosening the formal collar that had been strangling him all afternoon. "They think we're just nervous about getting married."

Jiraiya chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. "The best deceptions contain elements of truth. Your nervousness is genuine, just not for the reasons they assume."

"Your performance was convincing," Kakashi remarked, his visible eye crinkling. "Particularly that moment with the teacups. Nice touch."

Naruto and Anko both stiffened slightly, exchanging another glance—this one confused rather than complicit.

"What moment?" Tsunade inquired, looking between them.

"Nothing," they answered in unison, then frowned at each other for the repeated synchronicity.

"Well, whatever it was, keep it up," Tsunade instructed, producing a small brass key from her desk drawer. She slid it across the polished surface. "Your new residence. Two bedrooms, as negotiated, in the eastern district. Close enough to the administrative center to be convenient, far enough from the main thoroughfares to offer some privacy."

Anko picked up the key, its weight suddenly significant between her fingers. "When do we move?"

"Tomorrow would be ideal," Tsunade replied. "The sooner you establish the appearance of shared domesticity, the better."

Reality crashed down on them both—the abstract negotiations suddenly concrete, the performance no longer confined to ceremonial spaces but extending into their daily lives.

"Tomorrow," Naruto echoed faintly. "Right."

As they left the tower a short while later, instructions and expectations ringing in their ears, dusk had fully settled over Konoha. Street lamps cast pools of golden light at regular intervals, illuminating their path toward separate homes that would, come tomorrow, be abandoned for their shared dwelling.

"I'll meet you there at noon," Anko said as they reached the point where their paths diverged. "Don't bring everything you own. Just essentials to start."

Naruto nodded, suddenly looking younger in the dim light, the weight of the day's events evident in the set of his shoulders. "This is really happening, isn't it?"

"It is." Anko's voice softened fractionally. "But remember our terms. One year. Separate spaces. No expectations beyond the political."

"Right." He straightened slightly, determination returning to his posture. "One year of playing a part. We can handle that."

"We're shinobi," Anko reminded him, her silhouette sharp against the gathering darkness. "Deception is what we do."

They parted ways, each heading toward a last night of familiar solitude. Behind them, whispers continued to ripple through the village—speculation about the unexpected match blossoming into elaborate theories and romantic fantasies that bore little resemblance to the carefully negotiated reality.

The gossip spread like wildfire through Konoha's streets and establishments, reaching the ears of friends and comrades who received the news with reactions ranging from disbelief to concern to grudging approval.

In the Yamanaka flower shop, Ino nearly dropped a vase when she heard, her shocked exclamation bringing Sakura running from the back room. Their wide-eyed exchange spoke volumes, questions multiplying faster than answers.

At the Hyūga compound, Hinata received the news with quiet dignity that masked the ache beneath, while her cousin Neji watched her with knowing concern.

In a training field at the village outskirts, Rock Lee and Might Guy proclaimed it a "MOST YOUTHFUL UNION!" at volumes that startled birds from trees half a mile away.

And in the shadows of ANBU headquarters, masked figures traded whispers about the unexpected alliance between the jinchūriki and Orochimaru's former protégé—some suspicious, others calculating, a few genuinely curious about what such a union might mean for the village's future.

All the while, the subjects of this speculation prepared in their separate dwellings for the morning that would bring them together under one roof—not as lovers, but as allies in a performance that would test their adaptability, patience, and ultimately, their understanding of what truly constituted strength in the face of vulnerability.

The moon rose over Konoha, full and watching, silent witness to the machinations below. In its cold light, two shinobi on opposite sides of the village stared at the same sky and wondered what tomorrow would bring.

# Chapter 4: Unexpected Allies

News traveled through Konoha like wildfire in dry brush—crackling, consuming, impossible to contain. By sunrise, whispers of the impending union between Naruto Uzumaki and Anko Mitarashi had reached every corner of the Hidden Leaf, transforming from mere information to elaborate speculation with each retelling.

Morning light spilled over the village marketplace in golden puddles, illuminating clusters of villagers whose hushed conversations ceased abruptly as Naruto passed. Their eyes tracked him—curious, judgmental, surprised—before resuming their fevered discussions in his wake.

Naruto hunched his shoulders against the scrutiny, hands shoved deep into pockets. The weight of their stares pressed against his skin like physical touch. He'd spent years being the village pariah, then years fighting for recognition. This new attention—neither hatred nor admiration but something uncomfortably between—itched like an ill-fitting jacket.

A flash of pink hair caught his peripheral vision. Sakura leaned against a fruit stall, arms crossed, clearly waiting. The tightness in her expression told him she'd already heard.

"So," she began, falling into step beside him. "Were you planning to tell me yourself, or was I supposed to hear it from Ino's mother's hairdresser like everyone else?"

Naruto winced. The sharp edge in her voice cut deeper than he'd expected. "It happened fast, Sakura-chan. I was going to tell you today, I swear."

"Anko Mitarashi." Sakura pronounced the name like she was testing an unfamiliar jutsu. "Of all people... Why?"

The marketplace's bustling sounds faded as they turned down a quieter street. Morning sunlight dappled through overhead branches, painting shifting patterns on Sakura's troubled face.

"It's complicated," Naruto replied, the rehearsed explanation suddenly inadequate beneath her piercing gaze.

"Uncomplicate it for me." She stopped, grabbing his arm to force him to face her. "Because last I checked, you two barely knew each other."

Something in her eyes—hurt mixed with confusion, and beneath it, a flicker of something else—made his chest tighten. "It's not—we're not—" He struggled, then sighed. "It's political, okay? Tsunade arranged it. For the village."

Sakura's grip loosened, her expression shifting from accusation to concern. "Political? Since when do you care about politics?"

"Since I decided I'm serious about becoming Hokage." The words emerged with unexpected conviction. "This helps stabilize my position in the village. And hers."

Understanding dawned slowly across Sakura's features. "An arranged marriage," she murmured. "That's... actually kind of sad, Naruto."

He shrugged, affecting nonchalance he didn't feel. "It's just for a year. Then we can dissolve it if it's not working."

"A year is a long time to pretend." Her voice softened, the earlier edge replaced by something warmer, almost protective. "Will you be okay?"

The genuine concern in her eyes loosened something in his chest—relief washing through him like cool water. "Yeah. It's weird, but... I think I will. Anko's not so bad, once you get past the whole 'might kill you for looking at her wrong' thing."

A reluctant smile tugged at Sakura's lips. "High praise indeed." She hesitated, then added quietly, "For what it's worth, I'm here if you need to talk. Even if it's about... her."

The weight of unspoken things hung between them—feelings unacknowledged, timing never quite right. For a moment, Naruto wondered what might have been, then pushed the thought away. This was his reality now.

"Thanks, Sakura-chan. That means a lot."

Their conversation was cut short by a commotion at the village gates. Villagers gathered, voices rising in a chorus of shock and speculation. Above the din, one name repeated like a drumbeat: "Uchiha."

Naruto and Sakura exchanged a stunned glance before breaking into a run toward the gathering crowd.

---

The crowd parted like water before a blade as they approached. At its center stood a figure Naruto had chased across continents—tall, lean, wrapped in a travel-worn cloak that couldn't disguise the distinctive Uchiha emblem on his back.

Sasuke Uchiha's return to Konoha couldn't have been timed more dramatically if he'd planned it.

"Sasuke," Naruto breathed, stopping short just as the dark-haired shinobi turned.

Time seemed to freeze. The three former teammates locked in a triangle of tense silence while the village held its collective breath around them.

Sasuke's eyes—one dark as night, one bearing the concentric ripples of the Rinnegan—surveyed them with cool detachment. "Naruto. Sakura." His gaze shifted between them, then focused on Naruto with unnerving intensity. "I heard an interesting rumor on my way into the village."

Naruto's spine stiffened. "Already? News travels fast."

"Hmm." Sasuke's lips curved in what might have been amusement or derision. "You and Orochimaru's former apprentice. An... unexpected development."

Before Naruto could respond, ANBU operatives materialized around them—a phalanx of masked figures maintaining careful distance from the returned Uchiha.

"Uchiha Sasuke," one called formally. "Lady Hokage requests your immediate presence."

Sasuke inclined his head slightly, the gesture neither submission nor defiance. To Naruto, he added quietly, "We'll discuss this later."

With that, he strode through the parting crowd toward the Hokage Tower, ANBU flanking him like shadow extensions. Naruto watched him go, emotions churning like a storm-tossed sea.

"That was..." Sakura began, then shook her head. "Of course he'd show up now."

"Yeah," Naruto agreed, a hollow laugh escaping him. "Perfect timing, as always."

---

The Yamanaka flower shop exploded in a riot of color and fragrance—blossoms from across the Fire Country arranged in meticulous displays that belied the chaos of conversation within.

"Married!" Ino's voice carried over the sweet scent of lilies. "To Anko Mitarashi! I can't even process this!"

Kiba lounged against a display of potted ferns, Akamaru sprawled at his feet. "Gotta say, never saw that coming. She's hot though, in that 'might-stab-you-during-sex' kind of way."

"Kiba!" Ino hurled a spray bottle at him, which he dodged with practiced ease.

"What? We're all thinking it!"

Shikamaru sighed from his position by the window, cloud-watching interrupted by the impromptu gathering. "Troublesome. The whole thing is obviously political."

"Political or not," Kiba continued, undeterred, "Naruto's gonna need some advice. That woman's way more experienced than him. He needs to know how to—"

The bell above the door jingled, cutting off Kiba's commentary as Naruto himself stepped into the fragrant chaos. Conversation halted abruptly, creating a silence so complete he could hear the gentle drip of water from freshly misted flowers.

"Hey guys," he offered awkwardly. "Guess you heard?"

The tension broke. Suddenly everyone was talking at once—questions, congratulations, thinly disguised concern pouring over him in a verbal deluge.

"When's the ceremony?"

"Was it arranged?"

"Does she treat you okay?"

"Do you need tips on how to—"

"ENOUGH!" Ino's commanding voice sliced through the cacophony. She approached Naruto, blue eyes sharp with assessment. "You look terrible. Come on, we're closing early."

Before he could protest, she flipped the shop's sign to 'CLOSED' and herded the group toward the back room where a small table and chairs awaited.

"Start from the beginning," she instructed, pressing a cup of tea into his hands. "And don't leave anything out."

---

Across the village, in the subdued lighting of a jōnin-frequented teahouse, Anko Mitarashi faced her own inquisition.

"So," Genma drawled around his ever-present senbon, "cradle-robbing, Mitarashi? Didn't think that was your style."

The dango skewer in Anko's hand embedded itself in the table a millimeter from his fingers, quivering with the force of her throw. "Care to rephrase that, Shiranui?"

Genma's grin widened, unperturbed by the near miss. "Just saying, he's what—seventeen? You're robbing the cradle so hard you're practically a missing-nin."

"He's legally an adult by shinobi standards," Kurenai interjected smoothly, placing a calming hand on Anko's arm before another projectile could fly. "And this is clearly a political arrangement." Her crimson eyes softened as she turned to Anko. "Though I am curious what led to it."

Anko slumped back in her seat, the brief flash of anger dissolving into weary resignation. The teahouse's hushed atmosphere wrapped around them like a security blanket, the scent of jasmine and green tea normally soothing. Today, it felt cloying.

"Tsunade's idea," she muttered, swirling the remnants of her tea. "Political protection for both of us. The whole 'two village pariahs united' narrative apparently makes for good politics."

"Smart," observed Aoba from across the table. "Unconventional, but effective."

"Thanks for the tactical assessment," Anko snapped. "Really helps with the whole 'my life is now a political theater production' situation."

"For what it's worth," Kurenai said quietly, "I think you'll handle this better than most would. You've always been adaptable."

"That's one word for it," Anko replied, bitter edge softening slightly at her friend's support. She reached for another dango stick, movements sharp with lingering tension. "I just wish—"

The teahouse door slid open, silencing her as heavy footsteps approached their table. Ibiki Morino's scarred face appeared, imposing even in the soft lighting.

"Mitarashi," he greeted, voice graveled from years of interrogation work. "A word."

Curious glances followed as Anko rose and followed Ibiki to a secluded corner booth. The hulking interrogation specialist settled opposite her, bulk seeming to shrink the space.

"Heard about your arrangement," he began without preamble. "Good move."

Anko blinked, surprise momentarily displacing her defensive posture. "That's... not the reaction I expected from you."

Ibiki's scarred lips twisted in what passed for a smile. "You think I don't know what's been happening? The surveillance, the 'tests,' the sabotaged missions?" His massive hand wrapped around a teacup that looked childlike in his grip. "Intelligence Division sees everything, Mitarashi. Including the faction that's been targeting you."

The revelation shouldn't have surprised her, yet hearing it confirmed sent a chill racing along her spine. "And you did nothing?"

"I did plenty," he countered, voice dropping to ensure privacy. "Why do you think you're still alive? Still assigned to high-level missions despite the whispers?"

Understanding dawned slowly. "You've been running interference."

A single, sharp nod confirmed it. "This marriage gives you protection beyond what I could provide. Makes you untouchable to certain elements." His eyes, usually cold as steel, conveyed something almost like approval. "The Uzumaki kid's got more support than either of you realize. This alliance strengthens both your positions."

For the first time since Tsunade's proposal, Anko felt something besides resentment—a flicker of hope, quickly tempered by ingrained caution. "Why tell me this now?"

"Because you need to know you have allies in Intelligence." Ibiki rose, looming over the table like a mountain given human form. "Not everyone thinks your connection to Orochimaru defines you."

He departed without another word, leaving Anko staring into her cooling tea, mind racing with implications. The teahouse's ambient chatter washed over her unheard as she processed this unexpected support from the most feared man in Konoha's Intelligence Division.

Kurenai slid into the seat Ibiki had vacated, curiosity evident in her crimson eyes. "Good news or bad?"

A slow, predatory smile spread across Anko's face. "Interesting news. Very interesting."

---

The training ground lay drenched in afternoon sunlight, the heat rising in visible waves from packed earth. Targets and training posts stood at various distances, some bearing the scars of thousands of previous impacts.

Naruto arrived first, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot. Tsunade's instructions had been clear—start training together, develop teamwork, present a united front. Easier said than done with someone whose fighting style remained a mystery beyond "scary" and "snake-related."

A whisper of air behind him was his only warning. He ducked instinctively as three senbon needles embedded themselves in the training post where his head had been moments before.

"Reflexes aren't bad," Anko's voice drawled from above. He looked up to find her perched in a tree branch, legs dangling casually, a smirk playing at her lips. "But you telegraph your movements too much."

She dropped to the ground with predatory grace, landing soundlessly despite the distance. Her standard mesh armor and tan overcoat had been replaced by training gear—fitted black pants and a sleeveless purple top that left her arms bare, revealing toned muscle and the faint traces of old battle scars.

"I wasn't ready," Naruto protested, straightening indignantly. "And you could've actually hit me!"

"If I wanted to hit you, I would have." She retrieved her senbon with practiced efficiency. "First lesson: a real enemy won't announce their presence or wait for you to be 'ready.'"

The statement was punctuated by a sudden strike—her palm shooting toward his solar plexus with alarming speed. Naruto barely blocked in time, the impact jarring up his forearm.

"What the hell?!" he yelped, jumping back to create distance.

Anko didn't pursue, instead circling slowly, assessing. "Show me what you've got, future Hokage. Let's see if you're worth all this political trouble."

The challenge ignited something in him—competitive spirit flaring like a struck match. "Fine. You asked for it."

What followed was less a coordinated training session than a chaotic clash of wildly different styles. Naruto's approach—direct, power-heavy, reliant on overwhelming force and shadow clones—contrasted sharply with Anko's methodology: precise, venomous, exploiting openings with surgical strikes before melting away from counterattacks.

"Too straightforward," she critiqued, sliding under a clone's punch to tap a pressure point that dispersed it instantly. "You're all force, no finesse."

"And you're all tricks, no power," he countered, creating three more clones that surrounded her in a triangular formation. "What happens when you can't dodge?"

Her answering grin was all teeth. "That's what the snakes are for."

Serpents erupted from her sleeves, shooting toward the clones with deadly accuracy. The training ground filled with puffs of dispelled clone smoke as Naruto constantly created replacements, adapting his strategy on the fly.

Their movements accelerated, the spar evolving from assessment to genuine combat. Sweat trickled down temples, breaths came faster, muscles burned with exertion. Neither willing to yield, they pushed each other harder, unconsciously adjusting to counter the other's strengths.

From the treeline, hidden observers watched with calculating eyes.

"Interesting," murmured one Root operative to another. "They adapt quickly."

"Too quickly," came the response. "Danzō-sama will want to know."

"Shall we test them further?"

A brief nod was all the confirmation needed.

The attack came without warning—a barrage of kunai flying from multiple directions, each bearing an explosive tag. Naruto and Anko broke apart instantly, both registering the new threat simultaneously.

"Down!" Anko shouted, already moving.

Naruto didn't question—instinct and newfound trust propelling him to follow her lead as explosions rocked the training ground, sending dirt and debris skyward in violent plumes.

Through the chaos, figures in blank masks emerged—six attackers moving with the precise coordination that marked ANBU training. But something was off—the masks lacked Konoha's standard animal designs, instead bearing only a single red stripe.

"Root," Anko hissed, recognition flashing in her eyes as she pressed her back against Naruto's. "Danzō's personal army."

"Why are they attacking us?" Naruto whispered back, kunai already in hand.

"Questions later. Survival now." Anko's voice hardened with combat focus. "I'll take the three on the left. You handle the right. Watch for poison—they love that trick."

No time for further planning as the attackers converged. What followed was a deadly dance across the ruined training ground—Anko's serpents striking in tandem with Naruto's shadow clones, her precision complementing his raw power in ways neither had anticipated.

A Root operative lunged at Anko's blind spot, tantō blade gleaming with lethal purpose. Before it could connect, a Naruto clone intercepted, dispersing on impact but buying crucial seconds for Anko to counter with a poisoned senbon that found its mark in the attacker's shoulder.

Across the field, Naruto found himself cornered by two opponents using coordinated Earth Style jutsu to limit his mobility. A snake shot past his ear, wrapping around one attacker's ankle and yanking them off-balance—Anko's support without her even looking his way.

"Rasengan!" The swirling chakra sphere connected with the remaining opponent, sending them crashing through a training post into the forest beyond.

Their impromptu teamwork proved devastatingly effective. Within minutes, the attackers retreated, melting into the forest like shadows at noon—leaving behind only disturbed earth, scattered weapons, and questions.

Anko and Naruto stood in the center of the destruction, breathing hard, adrenaline still coursing through their systems. The unexpected coordination between them hung in the air like an unspoken revelation.

"That," Naruto panted, "was not a standard training accident."

"No," Anko agreed, wiping blood—not hers—from a senbon before returning it to her pouch. "That was a test. Or a message."

"From Danzō?" Naruto's brow furrowed. "Why would he target us?"

Anko's expression darkened. "Politics. Our marriage shifts power dynamics in ways he doesn't control." She surveyed the battlefield with calculating eyes. "He's showing us he can reach us whenever he wants."

"Great. Another enemy." Naruto kicked at a scorched patch of earth. "As if Akatsuki wasn't enough."

"Welcome to the political arena, kid." Anko's voice carried a bitter edge. "Where the knives in your back are metaphorical—until suddenly they aren't."

Their eyes met across the ruined training ground, a new understanding passing between them—the reality of their situation crystallizing in sharp relief. This wasn't merely a performance for village stability; it was a power play with potentially lethal consequences.

"We should report this to Tsunade-baachan," Naruto said, already turning toward the Hokage Tower.

Anko caught his arm, fingers wrapping firmly around his wrist. "Not yet. We need evidence beyond our word. Danzō's too careful—the attackers won't be traceable back to him."

"So what, we just wait for them to try again?"

"No." Her smile was sharp as a kunai edge. "We investigate. Quietly. Find proof of what he's doing."

Naruto studied her face, seeing the cunning strategist beneath the fierce exterior. "You've dealt with this kind of thing before."

"Survival in Konoha isn't just about combat skills." Her grip relaxed slightly, though she didn't release his wrist. "Sometimes it's about knowing which shadows hide enemies."

The sun dipped lower, casting long fingers of amber light across the devastated training ground. Without discussing it, they began gathering their scattered equipment, moving in the comfortable silence of those who've faced danger together.

"Not bad," Anko remarked eventually, gesturing vaguely to encompass their teamwork during the attack. "For a genin."

"I'm not a genin," Naruto protested automatically, then caught the teasing glint in her eye. "Oh. That was a joke."

"An attempt at one." She shrugged, but the earlier tension had dissipated somewhat. "You're not terrible in a fight. Your style's predictable, but effective."

Coming from Anko, this qualified as lavish praise. Naruto felt an unexpected warmth at the acknowledgment. "You're pretty amazing yourself. I've never seen anyone move that fast with senbon."

The compliment visibly surprised her, a brief flash of genuine response before her usual sardonic mask settled back into place. "Years of practice. And necessity."

They finished collecting their gear as the training ground fell into shadow, sunset painting the sky in dramatic strokes of crimson and gold.

"Hungry?" Naruto asked suddenly.

Anko raised an eyebrow. "Is that an invitation?"

"We should probably be seen together in public, right? That was part of the deal." He rubbed the back of his neck, the gesture boyishly uncertain despite the battle-hardened shinobi who'd fought beside her minutes earlier. "I know a place with great dango."

The mention of her favorite food wasn't lost on Anko. A small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "Lead the way, future husband. Just don't expect me to feed you across the table or any of that romantic garbage."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he assured her, falling into step beside her as they left the training ground. "I value my fingers too much."

---

Later, as the stars emerged like scattered diamonds across the velvet sky, they found themselves atop the Hokage Monument. The village sprawled below them—a tapestry of lights and shadows, secrets and stories.

"I used to come here to be alone," Naruto confessed, legs dangling over the edge of the Fourth Hokage's stone head. "When I was a kid and everyone... you know."

Anko sat beside him, a respectful distance maintained between them. Her usual sharp edges seemed softened in the moonlight, though no less dangerous.

"The Forest of Death was my spot," she replied after a moment. "Still is, sometimes. No one bothers you when they think you're crazy enough to vacation in a death trap."

A comfortable silence settled between them, the evening breeze carrying the mingled scents of the village—cooking fires, blooming night flowers, the faint tang of steel from the weapons district.

"They called me 'Snake Whore' after Orochimaru left," Anko said suddenly, voice matter-of-fact rather than self-pitying. "Like I'd chosen to be his student. Like the curse mark was something I wanted."

Naruto's head snapped toward her, blue eyes wide with surprise at the unexpected confidence. "That's—"

"People fear what they don't understand," she continued, gazing out over the village. "And they hate what they fear. You know that better than most."

His hand unconsciously drifted to his stomach, where the Nine-Tails' seal lay hidden. "Yeah."

"Difference is, you fought for their acceptance. Proved yourself over and over." She plucked a loose stone from the monument, rolling it between her fingers before flicking it into the void. "I just decided their opinions weren't worth my time."

"Is that better?" Naruto asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

Anko's laugh was soft, almost rueful. "Easier, maybe. Not better." She glanced at him sideways. "Your way took more courage."

The compliment hung in the air between them, unexpected and unacknowledged. Below, the village continued its nightly routines—oblivious to the conversation that marked a subtle shift between the reluctant allies perched above.

"Danzō's going to be a problem," Naruto said eventually, pulling the conversation back to practical matters.

"Danzō's always been a problem," Anko corrected. "He's just our problem now."

"Our problem," Naruto repeated, testing the phrase. "Guess that's what this whole marriage thing is about, huh? Sharing problems."

"Among other things." Anko rose in a fluid motion, brushing dust from her clothes. "It's late. We should head back."

Naruto followed her lead, climbing to his feet. For a moment, they stood side by side on the monument, silhouettes sharp against the star-filled sky—not quite friends, no longer strangers, reluctant allies facing a common enemy.

"Tomorrow we start investigating Danzō," Anko said as they descended the stone steps carved into the monument's back. "I'll work my Intelligence contacts; you use that inexplicable ability to make friends with everyone."

"It's called being nice," Naruto suggested, grinning. "You should try it sometime."

The barb held no malice, and remarkably, Anko's responding snort carried something close to amusement. "I'm plenty nice. To people who deserve it."

"And the rest?"

Her smile flashed white in the darkness, predatory and unrepentant. "They get to meet the snakes."

As they reached the base of the monument and prepared to part ways for the night—one final evening of separate dwellings before their forced cohabitation began—Naruto found himself strangely reluctant to end the conversation.

"Anko," he called as she turned to leave. When she paused, looking back with questioning eyes, he continued: "For what it's worth... I think we did good today. As a team."

Something flickered across her face—surprise, perhaps, or the ghost of approval. "Not terrible," she conceded, the highest praise he'd yet received. "Get some sleep, Uzumaki. Tomorrow the real work begins."

She vanished in a swirl of leaves, leaving Naruto alone with the realization that his arranged marriage, while still unwelcome in principle, might not be the disaster he'd feared. There was something to be said for allies who understood what it meant to be feared by the very village you were sworn to protect.

He gazed up at the stone faces watching over Konoha, wondering what the previous Hokages would make of his situation. What his father would think, if he knew.

"One day at a time," he murmured to himself, turning toward home—and whatever tomorrow might bring.

# Chapter 5: House and Home

Morning sunlight slashed through the trees like golden kunai, dappling the narrow street with shifting patterns as Tsunade led them toward what would become their shared residence. The Fifth Hokage strode ahead with purpose, sandals clicking against cobblestones still damp from an early morning mist. Behind her, Naruto and Anko followed with the reluctant shuffle of prisoners approaching execution.

"Here we are," Tsunade announced, stopping before a modest two-story structure nestled between larger apartment buildings. "Your new home."

The house stood apart from its neighbors in both style and age—traditional architecture with weathered wooden beams and a tiled roof that had seen better days. A small garden framed the entrance, wild and untamed as if long neglected. Wind chimes hanging from the eaves sang a melancholy tune in the morning breeze.

"It's..." Naruto searched for diplomatic phrasing.

"Small," Anko finished bluntly, crossing her arms over her mesh-covered chest.

Tsunade's honey-colored eyes narrowed dangerously. "It's perfectly adequate for two people who supposedly want to build a life together." She emphasized the last words with pointed sarcasm. "And considerably nicer than either of your current accommodations."

Neither could argue that point. Naruto's apartment was little more than a glorified closet with plumbing, while Anko's place served primarily as storage for weapons and the occasional place to crash between missions.

"What about our agreement?" Anko challenged, her voice dropping to ensure only the three of them could hear. "Separate residences were my first condition."

"And I rejected that condition immediately," Tsunade countered, unruffled. "You both agreed to shared quarters with separate spaces." She produced a key from her sleeve, its brass surface gleaming in the sunlight. "Two bedrooms, as promised. One upstairs, one down. Adequate privacy, but a united household."

She thrust the key into Anko's reluctant hand, fingers closing the jōnin's palm around the cool metal with surprising force. "The house belonged to a retired ANBU captain who died without heirs. It's been sitting empty for years. Consider it a wedding gift from the village."

Naruto peered through the garden toward the entrance, curiosity warring with resentment. "Does it have good water pressure? My apartment's shower is terrible."

Both women stared at him. Anko's eyebrow arched so high it nearly disappeared beneath her purple fringe.

"What?" he defended. "If I'm being forced to live somewhere new, it might as well have decent plumbing."

A laugh burst from Tsunade, unexpected and genuine. "Yes, Naruto. The plumbing is excellent. I had everything updated before your arrival." Her expression softened fractionally. "I'm not completely heartless, despite what you both might think."

She turned to leave, then paused, looking back over her shoulder. "Your belongings are being delivered as we speak. I suggest you spend today settling in and establishing your... boundaries." Her lips curved in a knowing smirk. "You have exactly two weeks until the ceremony. Best get comfortable with each other before then."

With that parting shot, she strode away, leaving them alone before their new shared residence.

"Well," Naruto broke the awkward silence, rocking back on his heels. "Want to rock-paper-scissors for who gets the upstairs bedroom?"

Anko's fingers tightened around the key until her knuckles whitened. "Upstairs is mine. Non-negotiable."

"What? Why do you automatically get—"

"Tactical advantage," she cut him off. "Higher ground, better sight lines, faster escape route through the upper windows." Her eyes locked with his, challenging him to argue the strategic logic.

Naruto opened his mouth, then closed it. "Fine. But I get first shower in the mornings."

"Acceptable." She strode forward, inserting the key with a swift, decisive movement. The lock clicked open with a sound that seemed to echo with finality. "Let's get this over with."

---

The interior of the house told a story of long abandonment—dust motes dancing in sunbeams that penetrated closed shutters, furniture draped in white sheets like silent ghosts. Despite Tsunade's assurances of updates, the air hung heavy with the musty scent of disuse and fading memories.

Anko moved through the space with the cautious precision of someone entering enemy territory, systematically checking corners, sightlines, potential traps. Naruto followed more haphazardly, pulling sheets off furniture with theatrical flourishes that sent dust billowing into sunlight.

"Not bad," he assessed, surveying the revealed living area. Simple but solid furniture—a low table, cushions, a bookshelf, and a surprisingly comfortable-looking couch. "Better than my place."

"Low bar," Anko muttered, but her posture had relaxed incrementally. She ran a finger along a wooden beam, inspecting the dust with a critical eye. "Needs cleaning."

A knock at the door interrupted their exploration. Outside stood a small convoy of genin carrying boxes and bags—their personal belongings, carefully labeled and organized with military precision.

"Delivery for Uzumaki-san and Mitarashi-san," announced a freckle-faced boy who couldn't be more than twelve. His eyes widened as he recognized Naruto. "You're really getting married? To her?" His gaze darted nervously to Anko, who responded with a predatory smile that sent him backpedaling several steps.

"Just leave everything in the entryway," Naruto directed, fighting the urge to correct the misunderstanding. This was their cover story now—his reality for the next year at least.

The genin deposited their cargo with relieved haste, clearly intimidated by Anko's reputation. When the last box was delivered, silence descended once more, broken only by the distant song of wind chimes and the soft settling of the old house around them.

"I'll take my things upstairs," Anko said, hoisting a duffel bag that clinked with the unmistakable sound of metal weaponry.

"Want help with the rest?" Naruto offered, gesturing to her remaining boxes.

She hesitated, suspicion flashing across her features before recognition settled in—this wasn't a trick or hidden agenda, just a genuine offer of assistance. "Fine. Don't touch anything that might bite back."

"Your stuff or mine?" he quipped, earning a reluctant twitch of her lips that almost qualified as amusement.

They worked in surprisingly companionable silence, transporting their respective possessions to their designated territories. Naruto discovered that Anko owned remarkably little beyond weapons, practical clothing, and a surprising collection of botany books. His own belongings—ramen cups, bright clothing, and mementos from missions—seemed childish by comparison.

As afternoon light slanted through newly opened windows, they converged in the kitchen, both drawn by the practical need for sustenance.

"Empty," Naruto observed, peering into barren cabinets. "Not even emergency ramen."

"Tsunade thinks of everything except food," Anko muttered, closing the refrigerator with more force than necessary. "Typical."

Their eyes met across the kitchen, mutual hunger creating unexpected common ground.

"Ichiraku?" Naruto suggested.

"Too public," Anko countered. "Everyone will stare and gossip."

"They're going to do that anyway. Might as well get free relationship points for being seen together." He shrugged, the logic surprisingly sound. "Besides, I'm starving, and you look like you might actually kill someone if you don't eat soon."

Anko's stomach chose that moment to growl audibly, undermining any potential argument. "Fine. But we're stopping for dango on the way back."

"Deal."

---

Night found them back in their new shared space, the house transformed by small touches of habitation—lights burning in previously dark rooms, shutters open to the evening breeze, the faint scent of cleaning products overlaying the mustiness. Separate territories had been established with unspoken boundaries—Anko's upstairs domain versus Naruto's ground floor kingdom, with the common areas existing as neutral zones governed by carefully negotiated schedules.

"Shower usage is limited to fifteen minutes maximum," Anko declared, writing it on a scroll with decisive strokes. "Water conservation is practical, not negotiable."

"Kitchen access is unrestricted," Naruto countered, "but whoever cooks doesn't clean. Fair division of labor."

They sat at opposite ends of the low table, the scroll between them growing with rules and boundaries—a peace treaty between reluctant cohabitants.

"No entering the other's bedroom without explicit permission," Anko added, the brush moving with precise calligraphy.

"No weapons on the couch," Naruto insisted, having already discovered this necessity the hard way via a hidden senbon.

"Exception for concealed backup weapons," Anko amended. "Non-negotiable."

"Fine, but they better be REALLY concealed. I sit there."

The candles burned lower as their constitution took shape, the process unexpectedly cathartic. When the final rule was inscribed ("No discussions of the arrangement with outsiders unless previously agreed upon"), they signed with matching blood thumbprints—a shinobi's oath.

"There," Naruto said, satisfaction evident as the scroll dried. "House rules established."

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," Anko remarked, but without her usual edge. "This is just the framework. The real test is daily coexistence."

As if summoned by her words, the awkwardness returned—two strangers suddenly aware they were alone together in a house they now shared. The night stretched before them, neither certain how to navigate this unfamiliar domestic territory.

"I'm going to bed," Anko announced abruptly, rising with fluid grace. "Early training tomorrow."

"Yeah, me too," Naruto agreed too quickly, relief evident in his voice. "Separate training. With Kakashi-sensei. Not with you. Obviously."

Her lips twitched at his awkward clarification. "Obviously."

They moved toward their respective territories, the moment hanging between them—unfamiliar, uncertain, unresolved.

"Goodnight, Uzumaki," Anko offered finally, pausing at the foot of the stairs.

"Goodnight, Anko," he returned, the use of her first name unconscious but noticeable.

She didn't correct him.

---

Days blurred into a week, then two, as they established an unexpected rhythm of cohabitation. Mornings featured a carefully choreographed dance of bathroom usage and breakfast preparation. Days separated them to their respective duties and training. Evenings brought them back to shared space and the gradual, reluctant discovery of coexistence.

Small surprises accumulated like dust motes in sunlight:

Anko discovering Naruto could cook more than just instant ramen—his miso soup surprisingly complex and satisfying.

Naruto learning that Anko's fearsome reputation concealed unexpected depths—finding her asleep on the couch surrounded by botany texts, a pencil still clutched in her fingers as she researched medicinal plants.

Both realizing that their loudly declared incompatibility contained surprising pockets of harmony—shared preference for open windows regardless of weather, mutual appreciation for efficient weapons storage, compatible tolerance for messiness in common areas.

The house transformed around them—no longer empty and abandoned but increasingly lived-in. Weapons mingled on wall-mounted racks, books shared shelf space, grocery lists featured both dango and ramen in equal measure.

If anyone noticed these domestic developments, neither acknowledged them aloud.

---

"Absolutely not." Anko's voice carried the flat finality of a death sentence as she stared at the elaborate kimono displayed in the Hokage's office. The traditional wedding garment—white silk embroidered with silver and pale lavender—seemed to mock her with its delicate beauty.

"It's traditional," Shizune insisted, hovering nearby with barely concealed excitement. "And it's been altered to allow for concealed weapons."

"I don't care if it has built-in explosive tags and a hidden arsenal," Anko countered, arms crossed firmly over her chest. "I'm not wearing that monstrosity."

Tsunade sipped sake, watching the standoff with thinly veiled amusement. "The ceremony has political implications, Anko. Certain formalities must be observed."

"I agreed to a marriage, not to being trussed up like a festival doll."

Across the room, Naruto tugged uncomfortably at the formal haori laid out for his inspection. "Do I really have to wear all this? It looks... itchy."

"Yes," chorused all three women simultaneously, their rare moment of unity startling him into submission.

"The ceremony takes place in three days," Tsunade continued, setting down her sake cup with a decisive click. "The formal announcement has already circulated to the daimyō and neighboring villages. This wedding will project strength and unity to our allies and enemies alike."

"And requires traditional attire," Shizune added firmly, running a reverent hand over the kimono's silk surface.

Anko's jaw tightened, the muscle pulsing visibly beneath her skin. "Fine. But I choose my own hairstyle and makeup. And I keep my own footwear."

"Your shinobi sandals with a wedding kimono?" Shizune looked horrified.

"Take it or leave it."

"Done," Tsunade interrupted before further negotiations could derail their timeline. "Now, regarding the guest list—"

A sharp knock interrupted as an ANBU operative materialized, kneeling with urgent posture. "Lady Hokage, intelligence reports require immediate attention. Eyes only."

Tsunade's expression shifted instantly from ceremonial planning to sharp focus. She dismissed Shizune with a gesture before turning to the ANBU. "Report."

"Surveillance outposts in the eastern region have detected unusual activity," the masked operative stated. "Patterns consistent with previous sightings of Orochimaru."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Anko's posture transformed from annoyed reluctance to predatory alertness, her entire body coiling with sudden tension.

"Confirmed sightings?" Tsunade demanded.

"Unconfirmed. Suspicious movement patterns and chakra signatures consistent with his known associates. Two villages reported unusual snake activity."

"I'll go," Anko said immediately, voice hard as tempered steel.

Tsunade's gaze snapped to her. "This wasn't a mission assignment, Anko."

"You know I'm the best tracker for this." Anko's fingers drifted unconsciously to her curse mark. "I can sense him in ways others can't."

"You're also three days from your wedding ceremony," Tsunade countered. "This could be deliberate timing—perhaps even a trap."

"Or it could be our best chance to locate him in months." Anko's eyes burned with intensity. "I can be there and back before the ceremony. Two days maximum."

Silence stretched as Tsunade weighed the options, her tactical assessment visible in the calculation behind her eyes. Finally, she nodded once. "Reconnaissance only. No engagement if confirmed. You observe and report back. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." Anko was already moving toward the door, mission parameters accepted without question.

"Anko," Tsunade called after her. "If you're not back in time..."

The unspoken implications hung in the air—political embarrassment, diplomatic complications, alliance advantages lost.

"I'll be back," Anko stated with absolute certainty. At the threshold, she paused, glancing back at Naruto with an expression he couldn't quite read. "Try not to burn the house down while I'm gone, Uzumaki."

Then she was gone, leaving behind only the lingering scent of forest and steel.

Naruto stared at the empty doorway, an unexpected knot of concern tightening in his chest. "Should someone go with her?"

"Anko works best alone," Tsunade replied, though her own expression betrayed similar concern. "Especially where Orochimaru is concerned."

"But if it's a trap—"

"Then additional personnel would only complicate extraction." Tsunade's tone brooked no argument. "This is her specialty, Naruto. Trust her skills."

He nodded reluctantly, but the unease remained, settling in his stomach like a cold stone.

---

Night fell over Konoha like a velvet curtain, stars emerging one by one in the clear autumn sky. In their shared house, Naruto moved restlessly from room to room, the emptiness amplified by Anko's absence. Her presence—abrasive, challenging, but increasingly familiar—had become part of the home's atmosphere. Without it, the walls seemed to echo with unnatural silence.

Thirty-six hours had passed since her departure. No word, no message, no update.

"She's fine," he muttered to himself, checking the window for the dozenth time. "She's a jōnin. An expert. She's handled worse."

Logic did little to quiet the persistent worry gnawing at his thoughts. He'd seen the look in her eyes when Orochimaru was mentioned—recognition, hatred, and something deeper, more vulnerable than he'd ever witnessed in her carefully maintained armor.

By midnight, restlessness crystallized into decision. He packed swiftly—weapons pouch, soldier pills, minimal supplies for rapid movement. A note left on the table for anyone who might come looking: "Gone to check on Anko. Back soon."

The journey east took him through the night, pushing his endurance with single-minded focus. Dawn broke as he reached the border region specified in the intelligence report, revealing mist-shrouded forests and rocky outcroppings scattered like giants' teeth across the landscape.

Finding her trail proved surprisingly simple—not because she'd been careless, but because he'd become attuned to her patterns, her chakra signature now familiar after weeks of shared space. He followed it with the instinctive certainty of a predator tracking its own kind.

The trail led to a seemingly abandoned structure half-buried in a hillside, its entrance disguised by undergrowth and genjutsu. A former hideout of Orochimaru's, judging by the faint traces of old chakra that made his skin crawl with instinctive revulsion.

Naruto approached cautiously, senses heightened for traps or guards. Finding none only increased his concern—either Anko had already neutralized any opposition, or there had never been any to begin with. Neither option explained her failure to return or report.

The entrance yielded to his cautious pressure, revealing a dark corridor stretching deep into the earth. Cold, stale air carried the lingering scent of chemicals and decay—Orochimaru's signature fragrance of abandoned experiments. Naruto created a shadow clone to secure the entrance before proceeding deeper, kunai held ready.

The hideout's layout revealed itself as a twisted labyrinth—laboratories, cells, storage areas, all bearing the sterile, methodical organization of a mind that valued research above humanity. Naruto moved through the spaces with growing unease, finding evidence of hasty abandonment but no signs of recent occupation.

Until he reached the central chamber.

Anko knelt in the center of a vast circular room, surrounded by scattered scrolls and broken glass containers. Her head was bowed, hands pressed flat against a complex seal pattern etched into the stone floor. She remained perfectly still, not even acknowledging his arrival despite certainly sensing his presence.

"Anko?" he called softly, approaching with careful steps.

"You shouldn't be here, Uzumaki." Her voice emerged flat, emotionless, so unlike her usual sharp tones that alarm bells rang in his mind. "Go back to Konoha."

"Not without you." He moved closer, now able to see her profile—the tight line of her jaw, the unnatural pallor of her skin. "What happened? Was there any sign of him?"

"He was never here." She didn't look up, fingers tracing the seal pattern with mechanical precision. "It was old residual chakra triggering the sensors. A false alarm."

Something in her tone didn't match her words—a dissonance that raised the hairs on his neck. "Then why are you still here? Why didn't you report back?"

She finally raised her head, and the sight of her face shocked him to stillness. Her eyes were rimmed red, not from crying—Anko would sooner die than shed tears—but from exhaustion so profound it seemed to hollow her from within.

"This was where he gave me the curse mark," she said, the words emerging with such rawness they seemed torn from her throat. "This exact room. This exact spot."

Understanding crashed over Naruto like ice water. This wasn't a mission delay—it was a confrontation with ghosts.

He knelt opposite her, the seal pattern between them pulsing with faint, residual chakra. "You didn't expect to find him."

It wasn't a question.

"I hoped," she corrected, brutal honesty stripping away her usual defenses. "I always hope. To end it. To finish what he started." Her fingers curled against the stone, nails scraping with quiet violence. "But he's never there. Just... echoes. Memories. Reminders that I'll always be marked as his."

The curse mark on her neck seemed darker against her pale skin, the tomoe pattern a stark reminder of ownership she'd never consented to.

"The mark doesn't define you," Naruto said quietly.

A harsh laugh escaped her. "Easy for you to say. Your burden makes you special, chosen. Mine just makes me suspect."

"You think the Nine-Tails is a gift?" The question emerged sharper than intended, his own buried pain surfacing unexpectedly. "You think I don't know what it's like to be marked by something you never asked for? To have people look at you and see only the monster they associate you with?"

Her eyes snapped to his, really seeing him for the first time since he'd entered. "That's different."

"Is it?" He gestured to his stomach, where the seal containing the Nine-Tails lay hidden. "My whole life, people looked at me and saw the demon fox that killed their families. They hated me for something sealed inside me before I could even speak. Something I never chose."

The parallel hung between them, undeniable despite their different circumstances.

"At least your burden gives you power," she countered, but the argument sounded hollow even to her own ears.

"Power I can't always control. Power that makes people fear me." His blue eyes held hers, refusing to let her look away. "Just like your connection to him makes people fear you. But neither of us let it stop us from serving the village. From proving ourselves through our actions, not our marks."

Something shifted in her expression—recognition, perhaps, or the first fracturing of a wall maintained too long.

"When I was a kid," he continued, voice softening, "I used to scrub my skin raw in the shower. Thought maybe if I scrubbed hard enough, whatever made everyone hate me would wash away." He offered a small, sad smile. "Didn't work."

Anko's breath caught, the simple confession striking deeper than any elaborate empathy could have. "I used to fantasize about cutting it out," she admitted, one hand drifting to her curse mark. "Taking a kunai and just... removing it, along with whatever part of me he'd poisoned."

They sat in silence, the admission hanging between them—not comfortable, but honest in a way neither had expected to share.

"We should go back," Naruto finally said, extending his hand across the seal pattern that separated them. "The ceremony's tomorrow."

Anko stared at his outstretched hand as if it were a foreign object she couldn't quite identify. Then, with deliberate movement, she placed her palm against his. The contact sent an unexpected jolt through both of them—warmth against cold, strength meeting exhaustion.

"I need to finish something first," she said, withdrawing her hand and forming rapid seals. Chakra flared around her fingers, blue-white and crackling with purpose. "This place... it needs to be cleansed."

Understanding dawned in his eyes. He moved to her side, hands forming complementary seals. "Together, then."

Their combined chakra surged through the abandoned laboratory—his wild and powerful, hers precise and controlled. The seal pattern beneath them flared brilliant blue before cracking with a sound like breaking ice. Fissures spread through the stone floor, erasing the marks of ownership and corruption that had haunted Anko for so long.

When it was done, they stood in silence amid the destruction of one more piece of Orochimaru's legacy.

"Let's go home," Naruto said simply.

This time, she didn't argue.

---

They returned to find Konoha in a frenzy of last-minute wedding preparations. Tsunade's fury at their unauthorized absences dissolved into grudging relief at their safe return, though not without threats of future consequences. Shizune's panic about ceremony timelines reached new heights as she herded them toward separate preparations.

"The formal procession begins in three hours," she informed them, clipboard clutched like a lifeline. "Everything's behind schedule. The elders are already seated. The diplomatic contingent from Suna arrived early. And neither of you is dressed!"

"Breathe, Shizune," Tsunade advised dryly. "The bride and groom have arrived. The rest is just details."

Those "details" consumed the remaining hours in a whirlwind of activity. Naruto found himself scrubbed, dressed, and lectured by an increasingly frantic Iruka about proper ceremonial conduct. Across the village, Anko endured similar treatment at the hands of Kurenai and Yūgao, though with considerably more threats involved.

When they finally converged at the ceremony site—a traditional shrine on the outskirts of the village—neither had seen the other since their return from the hideout. The shared experience remained unacknowledged but present, an invisible thread connecting them amid the ceremonial chaos.

Sunset painted the shrine in amber and gold as guests assembled—a curious mixture of political necessities and genuine well-wishers. The Konoha elders and clan heads occupied positions of honor, their presence ensuring the political message was received. Foreign diplomats watched with calculating eyes, assessing the alliance on display. And scattered throughout were friends and comrades who had come despite knowing the arrangement's true nature.

Naruto waited at the shrine's entrance, formal attire transforming him from boisterous shinobi to solemn bridegroom. The traditional black haori and hakama lent him unexpected dignity, though he tugged at the collar with poorly concealed discomfort.

"Stop fidgeting," Kakashi murmured beside him, fulfilling his role as ceremonial attendant with surprising dedication. "You look fine."

"I feel like I'm being strangled by tradition," Naruto muttered back, earning a crinkle-eyed smile from his former sensei.

"Marriage often has that effect, I'm told."

Further commentary ceased as a hush fell over the gathering. At the path's end, Anko appeared, and Naruto's breath caught despite himself.

She wore the traditional kimono, though altered to her specifications—less restrictive in the shoulders, the obi modified to allow swifter movement if necessary. Her purple hair was styled simply, adorned with a single silver ornament. As promised, she wore her shinobi sandals, visible occasionally beneath the kimono's hem.

Yet it wasn't the garments that transformed her, but the expression she wore—not the expected resentment or resignation, but calm determination, the same focus she brought to any mission.

Their eyes met across the gathering, silent communication passing between them. This wasn't what either had chosen, but they would see it through with the dignity their positions demanded.

The ceremony proceeded with traditional precision—sake cups exchanged, vows spoken in clear voices that carried to the assembled witnesses, formal blessing bestowed by the village elders. Throughout, they moved through the rituals with the coordination they'd developed in combat and cohabitation, each anticipating the other's movements with surprising harmony.

Then came the moment for the exchange of tokens—not rings, as in civilian ceremonies, but small items of personal significance. This hadn't been discussed beforehand, an oversight in their careful negotiations that now loomed large in the ceremonial silence.

Naruto moved first, reaching into his formal attire to produce a small object that gleamed in the fading sunlight—a kunai, but not a standard-issue weapon. This one featured a distinctive three-pronged design with seal formulas inscribed along the handle.

A murmur rippled through the older shinobi present who recognized the significance.

"This belonged to my father," Naruto said, his voice carrying clearly despite the intimate nature of his words. "The Fourth Hokage's special kunai. It's one of the only things I have of his." He extended it toward Anko, the gesture transforming the weapon into something more profound than mere metal. "Someone I trust should have it."

Surprise flickered across Anko's features, quickly masked by ceremonial composure. She accepted the kunai with formal grace, though her fingers trembled slightly as they closed around the handle.

For a moment, it seemed she had nothing to offer in return—the oversight in their preparations creating an awkward pause in the ceremony. Then, with decisive movement, she reached for her neck, removing a simple silver chain that had remained hidden beneath her collar.

From it dangled a small vial containing what appeared to be a single fang.

"The first time I summoned a snake large enough to fight alongside me," she explained, voice pitched for Naruto alone despite the listening audience. "It shed this fang after the battle. A reminder that what others gave me as a curse, I made into strength."

She placed the necklace in his palm, closing his fingers around it with surprising gentleness. "Someone who understands transformation should have it."

The unplanned exchange, far more genuine than anything they'd rehearsed, cast a hush over the gathering. What had been political theater suddenly contained an unexpected thread of authenticity.

As the ceremony concluded with traditional blessings, their hands remained linked longer than protocol required—not a passionate grip of lovers, but the steady clasp of allies who had glimpsed each other's depths and found unexpected recognition.

The formal procession led them through the village at sunset, lanterns illuminating their path as they walked side by side through streets lined with curious onlookers. Neither smiled with false joy nor displayed the reluctance that had marked their initial agreement. Instead, they moved with matched strides and solemn purpose—a united front against whatever challenges awaited.

The reception that followed featured carefully orchestrated political interactions—formal greetings to visiting dignitaries, strategic conversations with clan heads, the subtle dance of alliance-building that Tsunade had orchestrated around their union.

"You clean up surprisingly well," Anko remarked during a rare moment alone, her voice carrying its usual sardonic edge though softened by something new.

"You too," Naruto returned, then added with unexpected boldness, "Though I think I prefer you in your regular clothes. Less likely to stab me for saying the wrong thing."

A genuine laugh escaped her—brief but real, startling nearby guests who knew her primarily by reputation. "Don't be too sure. I have at least three weapons concealed in this outfit."

"Only three? You're slipping."

Their easy banter, developed over weeks of shared space, provided unexpected comfort amid the performative aspects of the celebration. As formal requirements were satisfied and night deepened, they found themselves gravitating toward each other rather than apart—an unconscious seeking of the familiar amid diplomatic orchestration.

When they finally departed—formal procession escorting them back to their shared home—exhaustion had settled into both their frames. The house welcomed them with dark windows and silent rooms, a refuge from the public performance they'd maintained all day.

In the entryway, they stood facing each other in the dimness, formal attire now rumpled from hours of wear, ceremonial composure fraying at the edges.

"Well," Naruto broke the silence, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture of uncertainty that contrasted with his formal appearance. "I guess we're officially married."

"Officially," Anko agreed, reaching up to remove the ornament from her hair, purple locks falling loose around her shoulders. The simple action transformed her from ceremonial figure back to the kunoichi he'd come to know.

An awkward moment stretched between them—the unacknowledged question of what came next, how this new official status might change the careful boundaries they'd established.

"I'm going to change," Anko said finally, gesturing vaguely toward the stairs and her territory beyond. "These formal clothes are worse than ANBU restraints."

"Same," Naruto agreed too quickly. "I'll see you... tomorrow, I guess."

She nodded, already moving toward the stairs, then paused on the first step. Without turning, she spoke quietly, "Thank you. For coming after me. For understanding."

The words hung in the air between them—not romantic declaration or passionate sentiment, but something perhaps more valuable between shinobi: acknowledgment of shared understanding.

"Always," he replied simply.

She continued upstairs without looking back, disappearing into her domain. Naruto remained in the entryway a moment longer, fingers absently touching the fang vial now hanging around his neck. Not love, not yet friendship even, but something had shifted between them—reluctant alliance evolving into something with deeper roots.

Outside, the full moon rose over Konoha, casting silver light through windows they habitually left open regardless of weather. In separate rooms of a now-shared home, two shinobi removed the trappings of a ceremony neither had wanted but both had honored.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new boundaries to negotiate. But tonight, in the quiet aftermath of public performance, both found unexpected peace in the knowledge that the person under the same roof might actually understand the weight of the burdens they carried.

Not a traditional foundation for marriage, perhaps, but solid ground nonetheless.

# Chapter 6: Public Faces, Private Truths

Morning erupted across Konoha in a blaze of gold and amber, sunlight spilling through open windows to illuminate the curious dance that had become their daily routine. In the kitchen, Anko moved with predatory grace, bare feet silent against cool floorboards as she prepared tea with military precision. Steam curled upward like summoned serpents, fragrant and ephemeral. Three precise steps away, Naruto assembled breakfast—rice, fish, pickled vegetables—his movements less refined but no less purposeful.

They operated in parallel orbits, never colliding but perfectly aware of each other's presence. Like twin stars bound by invisible gravity, maintaining perfect distance.

"Training with Kakashi today?" Anko asked, voice still rough with sleep despite the hour.

Naruto nodded, chopsticks clicking against ceramic as he arranged food on plates. "Then ramen with Iruka-sensei. You?"

"Intelligence briefing. Border patrol rotation after." She accepted the plate he slid toward her, their fingers never quite touching in the exchange. "Back late."

Their conversation unfolded in these staccato bursts—efficient, minimal, carefully circumscribed. A week into their official marriage, they had established rhythms and rituals that preserved the boundaries negotiated in their domestic treaty.

What they hadn't planned for was how quickly these patterns became comfortable.

Anko sipped her tea, violet hair still damp from her shower, the curse mark on her neck exposed without concern in this private space. Naruto devoured his breakfast with characteristic enthusiasm, morning sunlight setting his blonde hair ablaze. Neither acknowledged the strange intimacy of these shared moments—the domestic quiet that had settled between them like an unspoken truce.

"We're expected at the main gate at noon," Anko reminded him, sliding a mission scroll across the table. "Diplomatic welcome committee."

Naruto groaned, chopsticks pausing mid-journey. "I forgot about the Sand delegation."

"Hence the reminder." A ghost of a smile flickered across her face, there and gone like lightning. "Wear your formal blacks. Tsunade's orders."

"Politics," he muttered, the word emerging like a curse.

"Welcome to married life, Uzumaki." Anko rose in a fluid motion, depositing her empty cup in the sink. "All performance, all the time."

Their eyes met briefly across the kitchen—shared understanding passing between them like electric current. This was their reality now—public unity, private distance. A performance for political gain that grew more convincing with each passing day.

What neither would admit was how the lines between performance and reality had begun to blur at the edges, like watercolors bleeding into one another.

---

Noon found them assembled at Konoha's imposing main gate, standing shoulder to shoulder amid a reception line of village officials. The formal black attire of Konoha shinobi transformed them both—lending Naruto unexpected gravitas, highlighting Anko's dangerous elegance. Sunlight beat down mercilessly, heat rising in visible waves from the packed earth as they awaited the approaching delegation.

"Stop fidgeting," Anko murmured, lips barely moving.

"It's hot," Naruto complained under his breath. "And this collar is trying to strangle me."

"Better the collar than me if you embarrass us in front of the Kazekage."

The threat carried no real heat—another evolution in their strange relationship. What had once been razor-edged warnings had softened into something almost playful, though neither would acknowledge the shift.

A ripple of attention swept through the assembled officials as dust clouds appeared on the horizon. The Sunagakure delegation approached, distinctive in their desert garb—sand-colored robes billowing around them like earthbound clouds.

At their center walked a slight figure whose presence belied his physical stature. Even at a distance, Gaara of the Desert commanded attention—his shock of crimson hair vivid against the muted palette of his entourage, the massive gourd on his back a silent reminder of his lethal abilities.

"Gaara," Naruto breathed, genuine pleasure breaking through his diplomatic facade. Despite everything, the sight of his fellow jinchūriki—once enemy, now cherished ally—sparked real joy.

Tsunade stepped forward as the delegation halted, arms spread in formal welcome. "Konoha welcomes the Kazekage and his honored representatives." Her voice carried across the clearing with practiced authority. "May our continued alliance bring prosperity to both our villages."

Gaara inclined his head slightly, pale eyes scanning the assembled greeting party until they landed on Naruto. Something subtle shifted in his expression—not quite a smile, but a softening around the eyes that those who knew him would recognize as warmth.

"The Sand appreciates Konoha's hospitality," he replied, voice still carrying that distinctive rasp despite the years since his demonic possession. "We look forward to strengthening the bonds between our villages."

Formalities exchanged, the delegation began moving toward the village proper. As they passed the receiving line, Gaara paused before Naruto and Anko, pale eyes assessing them with unnerving intensity.

"Naruto," he acknowledged, then shifted his gaze. "Mitarashi-san. I understand congratulations are in order."

Heat crept up Naruto's neck that had nothing to do with the punishing sun. "Yeah, thanks! We, uh—"

"Thank you, Lord Kazekage," Anko interjected smoothly, her hand finding Naruto's in a practiced gesture. Her fingers laced through his with convincing intimacy, though he felt the warning squeeze that accompanied the touch. "Your presence honors our union."

Gaara's gaze dropped to their linked hands, then rose to study their faces with the penetrating focus of someone accustomed to searching for truth beneath layers of deception. After a moment that stretched uncomfortably long, he simply nodded.

"We will speak later, Naruto," he said quietly. Not a request, but a statement of fact.

As the delegation continued toward their accommodations, Anko released Naruto's hand with subtle haste. "He suspects something," she murmured, maintaining her diplomatic smile.

"He's Gaara," Naruto replied, flexing fingers that still tingled from her touch. "He sees more than most people."

"Then you'd better be convincing when he inevitably corners you." Her eyes flicked toward him, sharp with warning. "Stick to the script."

Before he could respond, Tsunade appeared beside them, honey-colored eyes calculating. "Anko, you'll escort the Kazekage and his advisory team throughout their stay. Security and protocol."

Surprise flickered across Anko's features before her professional mask reasserted itself. "With respect, Lady Hokage, I'm not typically assigned to diplomatic—"

"This assignment reflects your new position," Tsunade cut her off smoothly. "The Kazekage's protection is a matter of highest priority, and your skills are uniquely suited to the task." Her gaze slid meaningfully to Naruto. "Besides, it reinforces the narrative we're establishing."

Understanding dawned in Anko's eyes. This wasn't just about security—it was another layer of their political performance. The recently married couple, both assigned to honor and protect their most important ally.

"Of course, Lady Hokage," she acquiesced, though Naruto caught the brief tightening of her jaw. "I'll begin immediately."

As Anko departed to assume her escort duties, Tsunade turned to Naruto with unexpected gravity. "This visit isn't merely diplomatic, Naruto. There are whispers of unrest in both our villages—factions unhappy with the alliance between Leaf and Sand."

"Danzō," Naruto guessed, voice dropping to ensure privacy.

"Among others." Tsunade's gaze swept the dispersing welcome committee with subtle wariness. "Keep your eyes open. Your marriage to Anko has altered the political landscape in ways we're still understanding."

With that cryptic warning, she strode away, leaving Naruto to contemplate the invisible currents of power flowing beneath the surface of village politics—and his newly central role within them.

---

The diplomatic reception transformed the normally austere Hokage Tower into a showcase of Konoha's prosperity. Lanterns cast warm golden light across polished floors, illuminating elaborate flower arrangements and tables laden with delicacies from across the Fire Country. Musicians played traditional melodies in a corner, their notes floating above the murmur of political conversation like birds riding thermal currents.

Naruto tugged at his formal collar for the hundredth time, scanning the crowded reception hall. His eyes continually sought two figures—Anko, who moved through the gathering with surprising diplomatic grace as she attended the Sand delegation, and Gaara, whose distinctive appearance made him easy to track despite the crowd.

"You keep watching her," observed a quiet, raspy voice beside him.

Naruto startled, turning to find Gaara standing at his elbow, having approached with the silent stealth that made him so lethal in combat. The Kazekage sipped from a cup of ceremonial sake, pale eyes studying Naruto over the rim with disconcerting intensity.

"I was just making sure everything's running smoothly," Naruto deflected, forcing a grin that felt brittle at the edges. "Diplomatic stuff, you know?"

"Hmm." Gaara's noncommittal hum spoke volumes. "Walk with me."

It wasn't a request. Together they drifted toward the balcony, slipping away from the reception's orchestrated chaos into the relative quiet of the night air. Stars scattered across the velvet sky like diamond dust, the crescent moon casting silvery light across Konoha's rooftops.

"Your marriage was unexpected," Gaara said without preamble once they were alone.

Naruto leaned against the balcony railing, buying time by watching the village lights below. "Yeah, well... happened pretty fast."

"Indeed." Gaara set his cup aside, turning to face his friend fully. "Almost as if it were... arranged."

The word hung between them, precise and unavoidable. Naruto felt the carefully constructed narrative crumbling beneath that pale, knowing gaze. He'd never been able to lie to Gaara—their shared experiences as jinchūriki created a bond that transcended ordinary friendship.

"Is it that obvious?" he asked finally, voice dropping to ensure they weren't overheard.

"To most, no." Gaara's expression remained impassive, though something like sympathy flickered in his eyes. "You both perform convincingly. But I know what it looks like when someone wears a mask of necessity."

The simple truth of the observation struck deeper than Naruto expected. He sighed, shoulders slumping as the diplomatic persona fell away like a discarded cloak.

"It's political," he confirmed, trusting Gaara implicitly despite the sensitive nature of the admission. "Tsunade's idea. Something about stabilizing my position in the village and protecting Anko from people who still distrust her because of Orochimaru."

Gaara nodded slowly, unsurprised. "Political marriages are common practice, particularly for those in positions of power or controversy." His gaze drifted back toward the reception, where Anko could be glimpsed conversing with a Sand official, her posture alert despite her social smile. "Though typically between clans or villages, not individuals within the same village."

"Nothing about my life has ever been typical," Naruto replied with a hollow laugh.

"And how do you feel about this arrangement?" Gaara asked, the directness of the question striking like a physical blow.

Naruto opened his mouth to deliver the practiced response—duty to the village, acceptance of political necessity—but found different words emerging instead. "Confused," he admitted, surprising himself with the honesty. "At first I hated it. Felt trapped. But now..."

He trailed off, unable to articulate the complex evolution of his feelings. How initial resentment had given way to reluctant respect, then unexpected moments of genuine connection. How living alongside Anko had revealed layers to her he'd never suspected—fierce loyalty, razor-sharp intelligence, dry humor that occasionally made him laugh despite himself.

"Now it's complicated," he finished lamely.

Gaara studied him with the patience of someone who had spent a lifetime observing humanity from the outside. "The line between performance and reality often blurs," he offered quietly. "Especially when the performance contains elements of truth."

The insight landed with uncomfortable precision. Before Naruto could respond, a commotion erupted inside the reception hall—raised voices, the crash of breaking glass, movement suddenly sharp with alarm rather than celebration.

Both shinobi spun toward the disturbance, instincts flaring. Through the open balcony doors, they glimpsed a server collapsing, foam bubbling from his lips as Anko kicked aside the tray he'd been carrying toward the Kazekage's seat.

"Poison," Gaara observed, already moving.

They burst back into the reception hall as chaos bloomed—diplomatic pretense shattering as shinobi from both villages shifted to defensive positions. In the center of the disturbance, Anko stood over the convulsing server, her ceremonial appearance transformed by the kunai now gleaming in her hand.

"Nobody touch the ceremonial sake," she commanded, voice cutting through the panic with authority that belied her specialized jōnin rank. "It's been contaminated."

Tsunade appeared beside the fallen server, medical chakra already gathering around her hands as she assessed the rapidly deteriorating man. "Compound toxin," she confirmed grimly. "Sophisticated."

Security protocols engaged with well-rehearsed efficiency. ANBU materialized from concealed positions, forming protective formations around key dignitaries. The reception hall's exits sealed, trapping everyone inside until the threat could be assessed.

Naruto pushed through the crowd toward Anko, reading the subtle tension in her posture that others might miss. "What happened?" he demanded, positioning himself automatically at her back, their bodies aligning with combat-ready precision.

"Targeted the Kazekage," she replied tersely, eyes never ceasing their scan of the surrounding crowd. "Server approached with ceremonial sake tray. Something in his movements felt wrong."

"Good catch," Naruto murmured, genuine admiration coloring his voice.

A flicker of surprise crossed her face at the praise before her professional focus reasserted itself. "Too convenient to be random. Someone knew exactly when the ceremonial toast would occur."

Their eyes met in shared understanding—this wasn't merely an assassination attempt but something more calculated. A direct challenge to the alliance their marriage symbolized.

Gaara joined them, apparently unconcerned by the attempt on his life. "This was expected," he stated, voice pitched for their ears alone. "There have been three previous attempts in the past month. All utilizing different methods, all traceable to neither Sand nor Leaf officially."

"A third party wanting to disrupt the alliance?" Anko suggested, gaze sharp with analytical focus.

"Or elements within both our villages cooperating against their Kage's wishes," Gaara countered. "The methods suggest high-level shinobi involvement disguised to implicate others."

Tsunade appeared beside them, hands stained with the failed assassin's blood. "He's dead," she announced grimly. "Suicide capsule in a hollow tooth. Activated when he was discovered."

"Trained operative," Anko concluded, exchanging a meaningful glance with Naruto. "Not a random extremist."

"Ibiki's already en route to examine the body," Tsunade confirmed. "In the meantime, we're relocating the Kazekage to secure accommodations." Her gaze fixed on Naruto and Anko with iron authority. "You two will remain with him at all times. No exceptions."

As the reception dissolved into controlled evacuation, security protocols engaging throughout the village, Naruto and Anko fell into step on either side of Gaara. Their movements synchronized without conscious thought—her precise vigilance complementing his alert power, creating a defensive formation that flowed through the chaos with deadly efficiency.

"Your teamwork has improved considerably," Gaara observed as they escorted him through secured corridors toward a safehouse deep within Konoha's administrative district.

Naruto and Anko exchanged a surprised glance over his head, neither having consciously recognized how naturally they'd begun to operate in tandem.

"Practice," Anko replied tersely, though something like uncertainty flickered in her eyes.

"Necessity," Naruto added simultaneously.

Gaara's expression remained impassive, though something knowing lingered in his pale gaze. "Indeed."

---

Dawn broke over a village on high alert. Konoha's normal bustle had been replaced by the controlled tension of security lockdown—additional patrols visible on rooftops, ANBU shadows more numerous than usual, civilians moving with the cautious awareness of those who understood their village had shifted to war footing, if only temporarily.

In a secure room deep within the Intelligence Division, Naruto and Anko stood before a wall covered in reports, maps, and photographs. Across from them, Ibiki Morino's scarred face remained impassive as he outlined the preliminary findings of his investigation.

"The poison was Classified compound NK-17," he explained, voice graveled from years of interrogation work. "Developed by our own Research Division. Access restricted to ANBU and select jōnin."

"An inside job," Anko concluded, arms crossed over her chest as she studied the chemical composition displayed on a nearby chart. "Konoha-sourced toxin."

"That's what someone wants us to believe," Ibiki countered, tapping a separate document. "The delivery method—poisoned ceremonial sake—mirrors a Sand assassination technique from the Second Shinobi War. Deliberately evocative."

"Setting both villages against each other," Naruto realized, blue eyes narrowing as he connected the implications. "Make each side suspect the other."

"Precisely." Ibiki's scarred lips twisted in what might have been approval. "Someone wants the Sand-Leaf alliance to fracture. The timing is... significant."

His gaze moved meaningfully between Naruto and Anko, the unspoken connection clear. Their marriage had been arranged to stabilize political factions within Konoha. An attack on the Sand delegation attacked that stability by extension.

"The assassin," Anko prompted, professional focus unwavering. "Identification?"

"None officially." Ibiki turned to a sealed folder, voice dropping further. "Unofficially, I recognized certain physical markers consistent with Root conditioning."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Naruto and Anko exchanged sharp glances, the name neither needed to speak hanging between them: Danzō.

"You're certain?" Anko pressed, tension vibrating through her slight frame.

"As certain as possible without official confirmation, which we will never get." Ibiki's massive shoulders rose in a minimal shrug. "Root operatives are ghosts. This one followed protocol—death before capture, body designed to reveal nothing."

"But you have suspicions," Naruto pressed, reading between the lines of the veteran interrogator's careful phrasing.

Ibiki studied them both for a long moment, calculation visible in his deep-set eyes. Finally, he reached into his coat and produced a small scroll, unmarked and sealed with wax bearing no insignia.

"This doesn't exist," he stated flatly, placing it on the table between them. "You never saw it. I never gave it to you."

Anko picked up the scroll with careful fingers, breaking the seal with practiced precision. Her eyes scanned the contents, expression hardening into something dangerous before she passed it to Naruto.

The scroll contained a single page of information—a partial list of operatives suspected of Root affiliation, their known movements, and something more damning: financial transactions linking several Council members to suspicious activities immediately preceding the assassination attempt.

"This implicates Council Elder Fumiko," Naruto observed, recognizing the coded references to the elderly woman who had served as advisor to three successive Hokages.

"Among others," Ibiki confirmed grimly. "All with connections to one man."

"Danzō," Anko concluded, jaw tight with barely contained anger. "He's making a move against both Tsunade and the Sand alliance."

"Conjecture," Ibiki cautioned, though his expression suggested agreement. "Unprovable conjecture."

"For now," Naruto interjected, determination hardening his usually open features into something more reminiscent of his father. "But if we follow these connections—"

A sharp knock interrupted their discussion. The door opened to reveal a masked ANBU operative, posture radiating urgency despite their controlled movements.

"Intelligence report, sir," they addressed Ibiki, extending a sealed document. "Priority one."

Ibiki scanned the contents, his scarred face remaining impassive though something flickered in his eyes—surprise, concern, calculation in rapid succession.

"What is it?" Anko demanded once the messenger had departed.

"There's been an incident at your residence," Ibiki informed them, handing over the report. "Signs of entry, evidence of search. Nothing taken according to preliminary assessment."

The news hit with unexpected impact. Their house—the space that had transformed from assigned quarters to something approaching home—violated while they performed their duties elsewhere.

"A message," Anko concluded, voice flat with cold fury. "Showing us they can reach us even in private spaces."

"Or a search for evidence of what we know," Naruto suggested, mind racing through the implications. "We should—"

"You should maintain your current assignment," Ibiki interrupted firmly. "The Kazekage's security remains paramount. I've already dispatched a team to secure and investigate your residence."

They departed the Intelligence Division with renewed vigilance, the weight of conspiracy pressing against them like physical force. Sunlight seemed too bright after hours in the windowless briefing room, the village's apparent normalcy a thin veneer over dangerous undercurrents.

"They're escalating," Anko observed as they made their way toward the safehouse where Gaara awaited their return. "First the training ground attack, now this."

"Because we're getting closer to something," Naruto replied, instinctively matching his stride to hers. "Or because we represent something they can't control."

Their eyes met briefly—shared determination passing between them like electric current. Whatever game Danzō was playing, they had unwittingly become central pieces on his board. The realization should have been frightening, but instead kindled something defiant in both their expressions.

"We maintain the facade," Anko decided, voice pitched for his ears alone despite the seemingly empty street. "Let them think we're merely what we appear to be—a political marriage, nothing more."

"While we investigate from the inside," Naruto completed the thought, the strategy unfolding between them with natural synchronicity. "Using the very positions they're targeting against them."

"Exactly." A predatory smile curved Anko's lips, brief but genuine. "They expect the jinchūriki and the snake's former apprentice. They don't expect us to work together effectively."

The simple observation carried unexpected weight. Whatever their initial reluctance, they had indeed become a team—their different approaches and abilities meshing with increasing effectiveness. The performance that had begun as political theater had evolved into something more substantial: genuine partnership.

Neither acknowledged aloud how that evolution complicated their carefully negotiated boundaries.

---

Night settled over Konoha like a protective cloak, stars emerging one by one in the clear autumn sky. Security remained heightened throughout the village, additional patrols visible as silent shadows crossing moonlit rooftops. In the safehouse where Gaara had been relocated, layers of protection surrounded the Kazekage—ANBU guards, sand shinobi, detection barriers, and at the center, two reluctant spouses maintaining constant vigilance.

The elegant room had been transformed into an improvised command center—reports scattered across low tables, communication scrolls stacked in ordered piles, weapons positioned for easy access. Gaara sat cross-legged on a cushion, reviewing diplomatic correspondence with characteristic focus despite the assassination attempt hours earlier.

"You should rest," Naruto suggested, suppressing a yawn as he completed another circuit of the room's perimeter. "We've got this covered."

"Sleep has never come easily to me," Gaara replied without looking up, the simple statement loaded with the history they shared as jinchūriki. "And there is much to consider."

Across the room, Anko returned from checking exterior security positions, moving with the liquid grace that never quite abandoned her even after hours of vigilance. "Perimeter secure. ANBU rotations on schedule. No suspicious movement detected."

She dropped into a chair with controlled exhaustion, pushing purple hair back from her face in a gesture Naruto had come to recognize as one of her few tells of fatigue. Without comment, he poured tea from the ever-present pot and placed it within her reach—not directly handing it to her, respecting the physical boundaries they maintained even now, but close enough for easy access.

The small courtesy didn't go unnoticed. Anko's eyes flicked to his, brief surprise followed by something warmer that vanished before it could be properly identified. She took the cup with a slight nod, the gesture containing more genuine thanks than any words might have.

Gaara observed this exchange with quiet interest, pale eyes moving between them as they continued their security routines with unconscious coordination. When Anko rose to check communication scrolls, Naruto automatically shifted to cover the sightline she abandoned. When he moved toward the window, she adjusted her position to maintain optimal defensive coverage.

"Your marriage may be politically arranged," Gaara observed after a long silence, "but your partnership appears genuine."

Both froze momentarily, caught off-guard by the direct assessment. Naruto recovered first, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture of discomfort that felt suddenly performative rather than natural.

"We've been training together," he offered by way of explanation. "Tsunade's orders."

"Practical necessity," Anko added, her tone professional though something uncertain flickered in her eyes. "Effective teamwork requires practice."

"Indeed." Gaara set aside his correspondence, studying them both with the penetrating focus that made him so formidable despite his youth. "Yet there is a difference between trained coordination and intuitive understanding. You appear to have developed both."

The observation hung in the air between them, uncomfortable in its accuracy. Before either could formulate a response, a soft chime sounded—the security seal alerting them to an approaching messenger. Tension instantly replaced awkwardness, both shifting to combat readiness with fluid precision.

The messenger proved legitimate—an ANBU operative bearing updates from Ibiki's investigation. As Anko reviewed the sealed documents, Naruto maintained security positions, their earlier discomfort subsumed beneath professional focus.

"Preliminary findings on the break-in at our residence," Anko summarized once the messenger had departed. "Targeted search pattern, professional methodology. Nothing obvious taken, but they suspect information gathering rather than sabotage."

"Looking for what we know about Danzō," Naruto concluded, the pieces aligning with disturbing clarity.

"Or planting surveillance," Anko countered, lips pressing into a thin line. "Either way, our home is compromised."

The simple phrase—"our home"—hung between them, neither acknowledging how naturally it had emerged. What had begun as "the house" or "the assigned residence" had transformed in their thinking to something more personal, more shared.

"You suspect Danzō Shimura," Gaara observed, the name emerging with the neutral tone of someone stating facts rather than making accusations. "The Council Elder who has long opposed the Hokage's policies."

Naruto and Anko exchanged cautious glances, weighing how much to reveal even to a trusted ally. Finally, Anko nodded slightly—permission to proceed.

"We have reason to believe he's working against both Tsunade and the Sand alliance," Naruto confirmed, keeping his voice low despite the safehouse's security measures. "The assassination attempt connects to other incidents targeting us specifically."

"Because your union represents Tsunade's political strategy," Gaara reasoned, connecting implications with characteristic sharpness. "Attacking you undermines her power base."

"And attacking you damages the alliance she's cultivated with Sand," Anko added, violet eyes hard with analytical focus. "One stone, multiple targets."

Gaara absorbed this information with impassive calm, only the slight narrowing of his pale eyes betraying his assessment of its significance. "Such conspiracy would require substantial resources and multiple agents within both villages."

"Resources a Council Elder with his own private ANBU division could access," Anko pointed out, the bitter edge in her voice revealing personal history with Root operations that she rarely discussed.

They continued deep into the night, comparing intelligence and theory, the initial awkwardness forgotten as they focused on the conspiracy unfolding around them. Reports and timelines spread across the floor in expanding patterns as they constructed a picture of Danzō's possible movements and motivations.

Hours blurred together, exhaustion tugging at the edges of consciousness as they worked. At some point, they migrated to the more comfortable seating area, reports spread across the low table between them as they traced connections between seemingly unrelated incidents.

"These resource allocations," Anko murmured, finger tracing a pattern across financial records Ibiki had covertly provided. "They don't align with official mission parameters. Funds disappearing into administrative black holes."

"Like the ones here," Naruto added, pushing forward a separate document. "Training exercises that never appeared in any official schedule but consumed significant resources."

They leaned toward each other unconsciously, focus narrowed to the documents between them, previous physical boundaries temporarily forgotten in their shared purpose. Shoulders nearly touching, heads bent together over damning evidence, they built their case piece by methodical piece.

Gaara watched silently from his meditation cushion, observing more than just the conspiracy they uncovered. When exhaustion finally claimed him—a rare occurrence for the former insomniac—he withdrew to his sleeping quarters, leaving them absorbed in their investigation.

Neither noticed his departure, too engrossed in connecting fragments of evidence into a coherent picture of Danzō's operations. Midnight came and went, then the deepest hours of night when even shinobi villages grow quiet. Still they worked, driven by shared purpose and the growing certainty that they were uncovering something far more dangerous than initially suspected.

"His reach extends further than we realized," Anko murmured, voice rough with fatigue as she sorted another set of reports. "These Council meeting minutes show systematic obstruction of Tsunade's initiatives, always through proxies, never directly traceable."

"Classic Danzō," Naruto agreed, rubbing eyes gritty with exhaustion. "Never leaves fingerprints, just influence."

They had migrated to the couch as the night deepened, documents spread around them in organized chaos. The formal distance they typically maintained had eroded gradually with fatigue and focus—shoulders occasionally brushing as they compared notes, hands sometimes overlapping as they reached for the same report.

"We need to compile this for Tsunade," Anko said, stifling a yawn that momentarily softened her predatory features. "But carefully. If Danzō has penetrated regular ANBU, standard channels aren't secure."

"We'll use Sage Mode to detect surveillances, create a secure path," Naruto suggested, determination battling exhaustion in his voice. "Tomorrow, after we've had some rest."

"Mmm," Anko agreed, already sorting documents into ordered piles despite her drooping eyelids. "Just need to organize these first..."

Her voice trailed off as she leaned back against the couch, intending only to rest her eyes for a moment. Beside her, Naruto continued reviewing a particularly complex financial record, body gradually surrendering to the comfort of the cushions as his own exhaustion mounted.

Neither noticed when consciousness slipped away, the transition from focused work to sleep occurring with the same synchronicity that had begun to characterize their partnership.

Later—much later—Gaara emerged briefly to check on his protectors. What he found brought a rare, subtle smile to his normally impassive features.

On the couch, surrounded by evidence of their investigation, Naruto and Anko had succumbed to exhaustion in a tableau that belied their carefully maintained boundaries. Her head had come to rest against his shoulder, purple hair spilling across the dark fabric of his sleeve. His cheek pressed against the top of her head, one arm draped across the back of the couch in an almost-embrace. Intelligence reports lay scattered across their laps and the floor around them, forgotten in the deep, vulnerable sleep of those who had fought to remain vigilant beyond their limits.

In sleep, the masks fell away—no performance, no political calculation, no carefully negotiated distance. Just two people who had found unexpected comfort in each other's presence.

Gaara observed them silently, recognizing something neither had yet acknowledged to themselves. Then, with the silent movement that made him lethal in combat, he gathered a light blanket and draped it over them both—a small kindness from someone who understood the rarity of peaceful rest.

He returned to his meditation cushion, maintaining the vigilance they had temporarily surrendered to exhaustion. Outside, dawn approached—the sky lightening incrementally toward a new day that would bring fresh challenges and conspiracies to navigate.

But for this moment, in the quiet sanctuary they had created through shared purpose, Naruto and Anko slept. Their breathing synchronized unconsciously, bodies curved toward each other despite all protocols and boundaries established in waking hours. Intelligence reports documenting conspiracy surrounded them like fallen leaves, temporarily forgotten as their carefully constructed walls yielded to something neither had anticipated when their arrangement began:

The simple, dangerous comfort of genuine connection.