The formal declaration of peace was less a signed treaty and more a palpable shift in the air of the shinobi world—a collective exhalation held for decades. In Kumogakure, that exhalation transformed into a focused, joyous whirlwind of activity as the wedding of Indra Uzumaki-Uchiha and Rias Uzumaki transitioned from a distant promise to an imminent, monumental event.
What began as a personal celebration between two sovereigns rapidly evolved into a global diplomatic project. The Storm Coalition, still fresh and delicate, saw in this union a perfect symbol: the marriage of Lightning's power (Indra, the Raikage's heir-in-all-but-name) with the restored legacy of Uzushio (Rias, the heart of the new Uzumaki clan). It was a narrative too potent to ignore.
Raikage A: (Booming in the Storm Council Chamber, addressing holograms of the other Kage) This isn't just a party! This is the first gathering of the Five Great Villages that isn't in a tent on a battlefield! It's a statement! We build together now! So, we'll build this wedding together! Everyone contributes!
Tsunade: (Via hologram, a smirk on her face) So you want us to fund your village's festival, A?
A: I want you to invest in the peace! Konoha! You handle the traditional floral arrangements—the stuff that doesn't wilt and has symbolic meaning! None of your weak, fire-country blossoms! Get the good ones!
Ōnoki: (Floating in his projection, grumbling) And what does Iwagakure provide? Rocks? We have excellent rocks.
Indra: (Standing beside A, his voice calm but carrying) Geological stability. The main ceremony will be held on the new Sky-Platform we've constructed over the Valley of the Singing Wind. Iwa's expertise in seismic anchoring and stone-shaping would ensure its perfection and safety. A collaborative project.
Ōnoki's grumble turned into a thoughtful hum. A project. Not a gift, but a shared task. It appealed to his practical nature. "Hmph. We can do that. Our stone masons are the finest."
Mei Terumī: (Leaning forward, her smile charming) Kiri would be honored to provide the aquatic elements. Illusory mist displays, water sculptures that hold their shape… and the finest pearls from the deepest trenches for the decoration.
Gaara: (His voice quiet but firm) Suna will weave the sands of memory. We can create temporary, intricate sand-paintings depicting the history of Uzushio and the founding of Kumo. They will be sealed to last the event.
The planning continued, a intricate dance of politics and patronage. Konoha's florists and botanists began working with Kumo's agriculturalists, cross-breeding Fire Country cherry blossoms with Lightning's hardy, electrically-charged storm lilies to create a new, vibrant hybrid—"Unity Blooms." Iwa's stone-shapers arrived in teams, working alongside Kumo engineers on the magnificent, floating Sky-Platform, a disc of white stone and gleaming metal that hovered serenely above the valley, anchored by invisible gravity seals and Iwa's flawless foundational work.
The personal preparations were a separate, equally intense theater of operations.
In a spacious fitting room in the Raikage's Tower, Naruto, Sasuke, and a flustered Sakura stood being measured and fitted for their attire. They were to be part of the formal procession—Naruto and Sasuke as representatives of Konoha's new generation and, unofficially, as Indra's cousins-by-blood and choice; Sakura as the leading kunoichi of her generation and Tsunade's heir.
Tailor Jiro: (A meticulous Kumo artisan, pins in his mouth) Uzumaki-san, please stand still. The cloak is not a blanket to fidget in.
Naruto: But it's itchy! And it's so… white! I'm gonna spill ramen broth on it for sure!
Sasuke: (Standing perfectly still as another tailor worked on his dark, Uchiha-style formal haori) Then don't eat ramen for the six hours of the ceremony, dobe.
Naruto: Six hours?! Is this a wedding or a siege?!
Sakura: (Staring at her reflection in a beautiful, mint-green kimono with Uzumaki spiral accents) It's… really beautiful. But are you sure I should be in these colors? It's very… Kumo.
Tailor Mei: (A severe-looking woman) The color palette is storm-and-leaf: Kumo's blues and silvers, Konoha's greens and whites, with Uzumaki crimson as the unifying thread. You represent the leaf, Haruno-san. Wear it with pride.
Sakura nodded, but her eyes were distant. The reality of the wedding was forcing other realities to the surface.
The arrival of the fully resurrected Uchiha and Namikaze-Uzumaki families was the talk of the diplomatic corps. The official reveal was a carefully staged, intimate meeting in Tsunade's temporary Kumo offices.
Tsunade, Jiraiya, and a weary-but-hopeful Hiruzen Sarutobi stood as the doors opened. Fugaku and Mikoto Uchiha entered first, their posture proud but not hostile. Then, Minato and Kushina walked in.
The effect was electric. Tsunade's glass of sake halted halfway to her lips. Jiraiya's jaw went slack. Hiruzen's pipe slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor.
Tsunade: (Whispering) By the Sage…
Minato: (Offering a gentle, familiar smile) Tsunade-hime. Jiraiya-sensei. Lord Third. It's… good to see you.
Kushina: (Vibrating with barely contained energy, then bowing deeply) Thank you. For looking after Naruto. In your own ways.
The apology in her words was clear. Jiraiya was the first to move, crossing the room in two strides and pulling Minato into a back-slapping hug that was unusually tight, then holding Kushina at arm's length, his eyes wet.
Jiraiya: My two biggest regrets… walking themselves back into my life. Don't you ever do that again!
Hiruzen: (His voice old and thick with emotion) Minato… Kushina… this is… beyond miracle. The sins of my tenure… to see some of them literally undone…
Fugaku: (Nodding curtly) The past is a ledger. Some pages are closed with blood, others with ink. Our presence here is a new line. We write it together, or not at all.
It was a peace offering, blunt and Uchiha-pragmatic. Tsunade, regaining her composure, gestured to seats.
Tsunade: The political implications are… staggering. But frankly, seeing you two breathing makes the staggering worth it. Welcome back. Officially.
The news, of course, leaked instantly. The sight of the Fourth Hokage and his wife, not as ghostly Edo Tensei, but as living, breathing people in their prime, walking through Kumo's markets or sharing a meal with the Raikage, sent shockwaves through the assembled delegations. It was the ultimate proof of Indra's power, and of Kumo's new paradigm: death itself was not an immutable law here.
For Sakura Haruno, the wedding preparations became a slow-motion lesson in her own solitude. The day after the fitting, she and Ino were walking through the bustling "Artisans' Arcade," a temporary market set up for wedding vendors from all nations.
Ino: (Holding up a delicate hairpin shaped like a lightning bolt) This would look amazing on Temari! Don't you think?
Sakura: (Forcing a smile) Yeah. It's very… sharp. Like her.
Ino: I know, right? And Shika actually noticed it when I showed him! He said, and I quote, "Huh. Efficient design." That's practically a sonnet from him!
Sakura's smile strained. Shikamaru and Temari. It had been a slow-burn thing, obvious to everyone after their joint work during the war and the Coalition planning. The Princess of Suna and the Laziest Genius of Konoha. Somehow, it worked.
As they turned a corner, Sakura's breath hitched. Across the way, near a stall selling advanced sealing scrolls, stood Sasuke. And with him was Sona Uzumaki. They weren't touching. They were simply examining a scroll, their heads inclined towards each other. Sona pointed at a specific array, her lips moving in quick, precise explanation. Sasuke listened, then nodded and said something short. In response, Sona did something utterly unexpected: a small, swift, precise gesture. She tapped the back of her own hand twice with her index finger, then pointed minimally at the scroll.
It was a tiny thing. A coder's shorthand. A systems analyst's signal. And Sasuke understood. He gave a single, acknowledging nod.
The intimacy of it—a private language of the mind—struck Sakura like a physical blow. All her years of shouting her love, of desperate pleas, of trying to bridge the gap with raw emotion… and this woman connected with him through a silent tap of a finger on skin.
Ino: (Following her gaze, her voice softening) Oh. Sakura…
Sakura: I'm fine. It's… it's good. He needs someone who gets his… wavelength.
Ino: You deserve someone who gets your wavelength, Forehead. Someone who sees the amazing person you are, not the ghost of who he thought he wanted.
As if summoned by the conversation, a figure approached them. He was a young man, probably their age, with the distinctive Uzumaki crimson hair cut short and practical. He wore Kumo jonin blues with a systems-analyst insignia, and his face was intelligent, open, and currently lit with a friendly, slightly awkward smile.
Ajuka Uzumaki: Excuse me? Yamanaka Ino, correct? From the Konoha Sensory Division?
Ino: (Blinking, shifting into professional mode) That's right. Can I help you?
Ajuka: I'm Ajuka, from Kumo's Thunderhead Analytics wing. I was reviewing the integrated sensory data from the war, and your work on the shared consciousness network to identify Zetsu clones… it was inspired. The way you used passive emotional resonance as a secondary filter… I had some questions, if you have a moment? Maybe over tea?
He was earnest, brilliant, and clearly impressed by her mind. Ino's eyes, ever-sharp, assessed him. A slow, flattered smile spread across her face.
Ino: I suppose I have a few minutes. The reports were a bit dense. I'd be happy to clarify. Sakura, you don't mind?
Sakura watched as Ino and Ajuka fell into immediate, deep technical conversation, their body language shifting from formal to engaged. She saw the flicker of interest in Ino's eyes, the way Ajuka leaned in to listen. Another connection, sparking over data streams and chakra frequencies.
Sakura: (Feeling a hollow ache) No. Go ahead. I'll… catch up with you later.
She wandered away, the vibrant market sounds fading into a dull roar. She passed a stall where Kiri kunoichi were laughing with Iwa shinobi over shared war stories, their hands loosely linked. She saw a young Suna puppeteer demonstrating a tiny, dancing sand-figure to a grinning Kumo engineer. Everywhere, connections.
Her feet carried her to a quieter garden terrace overlooking the valley. And there, she saw them. Naruto and Hinata. They were sitting on a bench, not speaking. Naruto was gesturing wildly, apparently recounting some story, his face alight. Hinata was watching him, her smile serene and full of such profound love it was almost painful to witness. Then, Naruto stopped mid-gesture, looked at her, and his expression softened into something tender and quiet. He reached over, not to hug or kiss, but to simply cover her hand with his own. Hinata's pale eyes closed for a second, a single, happy tear tracing down her cheek. She turned her hand under his to intertwine their fingers.
Engaged. The word echoed in Sakura's mind. Of course they were. It was as natural as the sunrise.
A profound loneliness, cold and clear, settled over her. She looked around at the gathering civilization, this new world being forged in unity and marriage. Everyone is finding their place. Their person. Shikamaru has Temari. Ino has… maybe Ajuka. Naruto has Hinata. Sasuke has Sona. Even Lee probably has some enthusiastic taijutsu partner somewhere. And I…
The image of Tsunade, magnificent, powerful, alone, flashed in her mind. The legendary sucker, the woman who loved and lost and built walls of strength and sarcasm so high no one could ever scale them again. Is that what awaited her? The greatest medic-nin of her age, surrounded by the happiness of others, forever the brilliant, single sensei?
The thought made her shudder violently.
Sakura: (Whispering to herself) No. I won't. I can't.
It wasn't bitterness towards Sasuke anymore. That fire had burned down to cold ash. This was fear. Fear of being left behind by life itself. She loved her work. She loved being strong. But she suddenly, desperately, did not want to be only that. The wedding, this celebration of union, was holding up a mirror, and she didn't like the future she saw reflected.
While Sakura wrestled with her epiphany, a different, louder conflict was reaching its peak in the Raikage's personal training hall. The issue: who would have the honor of giving Rias away during the ceremony.
Raikage A: (Arms crossed, lightning crackling in his beard) It's settled! She's a daughter of Kumo! She's my best commander's wife-to-be! I'm her Kage! I'm giving her away! It's tradition!
Zeoticus Uzumaki: (Standing his ground, impeccable in his merchant-prince robes, a ledger in hand) Tradition? The tradition is a father giving his daughter away. I am her father. She is my daughter. My blood. This is not a diplomatic treaty, Lord Raikage, this is a wedding!
A: She's a kunoichi of this village! I've watched her grow from a genin into a force of nature! I've signed her mission reports! I've promoted her! That counts for something!
Zeoticus: I changed her diapers! I taught her her first sealing formula! I funded her first spear! That counts for everything!
The two titans stood nose-to-nose, one a mountain of muscle and lightning, the other a pillar of aristocratic will and economic power. Darui, tasked with mediating, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.
Darui: (Sighing) This is… troublesome. Sirs, perhaps we could consider a compromise—
Both A & Zeoticus: NO COMPROMISE!
The door slid open, and Rias walked in, dressed in a simple training gi. She looked from her fuming father to her sputtering Kage.
Rias: The decibel level is interfering with the bat summons' nap cycles. What is the problem?
A: This pompous merchant thinks he can just waltz in and take the spotlight!
Zeoticus: This overgrown lightning rod thinks military rank supersedes paternal authority!
Rias blinked, processing. A slow smile touched her lips.
Rias: So. The point of contention is who escorts me to the ceremonial arch.
A: Yes!
Zeoticus: Precisely!
Rias: And the core of the dispute is that both of you see yourselves as a primary father figure in my life.
The two men grunted, which was an affirmative.
Rias: Then the solution is obvious. You will both do it.
The hall went silent.
A: …Both?
Zeoticus: …Simultaneously?
Rias: Is the concept of shared responsibility foreign to you? Lord Raikage, you represent my chosen path, my duty, and the village that is my home and fortress. Father, you represent my heritage, my bloodline, and the family that is my foundation. I would not be the woman Indra is marrying without both. Therefore, you will both walk me down the aisle. One on each arm.
She said it with such finality, such serene logic, that all argument died. A looked at Zeoticus. Zeoticus looked at A. They saw the stubborn love for Rias in each other's eyes, mirrored by their own.
A: (Grunts, a reluctant smirk forming) Hmph. Fine. But I'm on the right. It's the dominant tactical position.
Zeoticus: (Smoothing his robes, a triumphant gleam in his eye) Very well. The right side is traditionally where the sun is during the ceremony, offering better lighting for the crowd to see my daughter's radiance. I accept the left.
It was as close to accord as they would get. Rias nodded, satisfied.
Rias: Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a final fitting for a wedding gown that may or may not be capable of withstanding a tailed beast bomb. Do try not to break the training hall before then.
As she left, A and Zeoticus stood in the aftermath.
Zeoticus: She gets her poise from her mother.
A: She gets her spine from Kumo.
They shared a look that was no longer purely combative, but held a sliver of mutual, grudging respect.
The final days were a crescendo of activity. The Sky-Platform was finished, a masterpiece of stone and light. Iwa's anchors held it steadfast. Kiri's mist-weavers created ever-changing, beautiful clouds that drifted beneath it. Suna's sand-artists completed a breathtaking, sprawling mural on the platform floor depicting the journey of the Uzumaki from Uzushio's fall to Kumo's sanctuary. Konoha's Unity Blooms were everywhere, their petals shimmering with a faint, hybrid glow.
Guests poured into the village: Daimyos and their courts, minor village leaders, clan heads from every nation. The atmosphere was electric, a festival of peace.
On the eve of the wedding, Sakura found herself on a quiet balcony. She wasn't crying. She was thinking. Planning. She was a medic, a strategist. She identified a problem: isolation. The treatment? To open herself up. To look beyond the ghost of a childhood crush. To define what she wanted in a partner. Strength of character? Intelligence? Shared purpose? Someone who would see Sakura Haruno, not just Tsunade's apprentice or Sasuke's failed obsession.
It was scary. But the alternative—the lonely, powerful figure of Tsunade—was scarier. She made a decision. She would let go. Not with a dramatic shout, but with a quiet, internal release. She would be happy for her friends. And she would, starting tomorrow, start looking for her own happiness.
Below her, the village glittered, ready for the dawn of a new union. Above, the stars shone, cold and clear. Sakura Haruno took a deep breath of the charged, mountain air. The wedding of the century was tomorrow. And for the first time in a long time, she was looking forward to it, not as a bystander to others' love, but as a witness to new beginnings—including, perhaps, her own. The fortress was built. The storms were over. Now, it was time to learn how to live in the sunshine.
End of Chapter – 126.