After a long yawn, Terumi Mei opened her eyes and saw a can of iced green tea in front of her.
Logan was standing opposite her and said with a smile, "It's so late, why don't you go to bed?"
"I can't sleep, ha—"
Halfway through her sentence, she yawned again.
She took the green tea handed to her by Logan, murmured a sleepy thank-you, gulped down half the can, and let out a satisfied sigh like an old man tasting fine wine. Her sleepy eyes finally regained some clarity.
The night breeze blew gently, and Terumi Mei wrapped the blanket around herself a little tighter.
"Sorry," Logan said.
"What are you apologizing for?"
"On the day we arrived in Kyoto, I promised you we'd watch the fireworks display together at the Suien Festival."
"Yes, you did promise... but—"
Terumi Mei held the cold aluminum can between her thumb and middle finger, brought it to her lips, and took another sip.
"No one could have expected all that happened tonight, including the fireworks display."
She nodded toward Oda Ieyasu, who was leaving.
"Thanks to that guy, we still got to see a show, right?"
Logan realized she was talking about the cluster bombs that had detonated under Daming Mansion. In terms of brilliance, the explosion—white-hot from high temperature and pressure—was indeed a spectacular "firework."
It was also because of that explosion that the official fireworks display had been canceled. Officials feared someone might use the sound of fireworks to mask the beginning of new conflicts or battles.
Too much had happened that night; no one wanted the fragile peace to unravel again.
"I just feel a little bit... unwilling," Terumi Mei said.
"Unwilling?"
She loosened the blanket a bit, revealing she was no longer in her tight blue battle dress, but in a white yukata adorned with pink sakura blossoms.
Logan then noticed her makeup—softer than usual—with gentle eyeliner, bright red lips, and long hair pinned up with a golden hairpin. Hanging from the hairpin was her favorite strawberry bear charm.
He remembered what she had been hiding in the closet before they left for Kyoto—it had to be this yukata. Normally, she wouldn't wear it in public to maintain her dignity as Mizukage.
Terumi Mei wrapped herself in the blanket again, resting her chin on her knees.
"I carried my clothes and jewelry all the way here. I didn't expect so much to happen. Silly me thought—'We'll wait until the fireworks start.'"
"I got dressed, did my makeup... and then I heard the fireworks were canceled."
She sighed.
"Who knows when I'll come back to Kyoto. By then, I might be in my thirties—an old lady."
She looked up at Logan and puffed out her cheeks slightly.
"That's the kind of unwillingness I mean. Can you understand that?"
Logan nodded.
It was like making dumplings—kneading the dough, chopping the filling, cooking them—and realizing too late that you had no vinegar.
"So, I couldn't sleep," Terumi Mei added, pointing to her eyes. "If I lie down like this, I'll just stare at the ceiling."
"And once I hear birds chirping outside the window, I'll know the Water Garden Festival night is over. That would make me a very unwilling ghost."
Logan paused.
"Wait for me."
With that, he vanished. Ten seconds later, he reappeared carrying a bucket of water in one hand and a handful of fairy wands in the other.
"Make do with this?"
"I thought you'd get me real fireworks, but... let's make do."
Though Terumi Mei pretended to complain, she couldn't hide the smile creeping across her lips. She tossed the blanket aside, picked up a fairy wand, and lit it using the golden flame in Logan's palm.
Tiny golden sparks danced, reflecting in her smiling eyes—brighter than the stars above.
At that moment, the melancholic melody of a shakuhachi flute floated from the Daimyo's residence.
The tune was still "Wind." Logan felt the sorrow in every note—Oda Ieyasu's quiet grief.
Inside, Oda Ieyasu sat on the tatami, softly playing the flute.
Little Hideyoshi, previously trapped in a nightmare, gradually relaxed at the sound—the music reminding him of his mother. A tear rolled down his cheek.
When the song ended, all the fairy wands were burned and tossed into the bucket.
"By the way," Terumi Mei asked, pointing at the bucket, "you can hold flames with your bare hands. I'm Mizukage. Do we really need this bucket?"
Logan shrugged. "It's for the atmosphere. If I just wanted light and sound, I could use Hidan's ashes—blow them up. Might even look better than real fireworks."
"So..."
Terumi Mei rested her chin on her hand, tilted her head, and squinted at Logan.
"Does it look good?"
"Beautiful."
"Hehe."
She gave a sly smile. "I was talking about the fireworks."
Logan looked at her seriously.
"I was talking about you."
Bang—
Terumi Mei heard the sound of something explode—perhaps in her chest.
Logan pointed to her hairpin, makeup, and yukata. "They suit you perfectly."
She stood abruptly, face flushed, hands on her hips, and laughed:
"You've got good taste! My preparations weren't wasted. Remember my beauty well!"
Logan, smiling faintly, pulled out a Polaroid camera from his storage.
Terumi Mei's eyes sparkled. She nodded excitedly.
Click.
The camera snapped.
Logan wrote the date in the blank margin and handed her the photo.
"Next time we come back."
"Okay. I'll try a new look."
"What kind?"
Terumi Mei raised her chin proudly. "A woman's secret."
---
Meanwhile...
Akatsuki Base.
Nagato looked exhausted, coughing heavily.
He had just completed the sealing of the Three-Tails' Jinchūriki.
Though the Gedo Statue required the tailed beasts to be sealed in the order of One through Nine, it didn't mean they had to capture them in that order.
With Two-Tails and Three-Tails already killed by Logan, they had become wild beasts.
Nagato's plan was to capture them, seal them into new hosts, and recreate Jinchūriki—like living batteries.
He wanted to gather the One, Two, and Three-Tails and seal them into the Gedo Statue all at once.
If they went for the One-Tail too early, they'd draw too much attention from other ninja villages, making future plans harder.
As for finding compatible Jinchūriki? Easy.
The remnants of the Uzumaki Clan.
After the clan's fall, their sealing techniques and bloodlines had been divided among the major nations.
Today's tailed beast suppression methods and Jinchūriki programs were all built on Uzumaki heritage.
The great nations' conglomerates offered Nagato both money and manpower.
The poor soul now serving as the Three-Tails' Jinchūriki—doomed to die upon extraction—might even be Nagato's distant kin.
Not that it mattered.
Nagato was willing to die for his plan. He certainly wasn't going to spare a distant relative.
"Ahem..."
Nagato coughed again, his body trembling. It took him a moment to recover.
Konan handed him a glass of water.
"Thanks," he said, drinking it all in one go.
She looked at his gaunt profile. "Kakuzu and Hidan are both dead."
Nagato paused for a beat, then placed the empty glass down gently.
"I see. We're down two. I'll find more."
Konan moved in front of him.
"This isn't just about manpower, Nagato. What are you thinking?"
She looked at the notebook tucked in her pouch—a book she never parted from.
"Are you really planning to face Logan head-on?"
Nagato's Rinnegan eyes were like still water. He glanced at her pack.
"If so, Konan... who will you help?"
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