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The last firework had bloomed and vanished, leaving only trails of silver dust in the indigo sky. The crowd was thinning now, laughter fading into the murmur of crickets and the quiet slap of water against the river stones.
Sakura and Minato made their way down the hill, still hand in hand without noticing. The world felt hushed, like the space after a heartbeat, when the air still carried the echo of something bright.
Then—
“Sakura-neesan! Minato-nii!”
A blur of pink and white barreled straight into Sakura’s legs. She staggered, laughing, as small arms wrapped tight around her knees.
“Shizune!” Sakura bent down, smiling at the familiar face. “You nearly knocked me into the river.”
The little girl tilted her chin up, cheeks glowing with excitement. “Look! Kinoe-kun made me this!”
She held out her wrist proudly—a tiny woven bracelet of red and gold thread, the knots uneven but shining in the lamplight.
Behind her stood Kinoe, small and serious as ever, his dark hair neatly combed, his expression solemn in a way that always seemed older than his years. He lived at the Senju estate, part of a family that had served the Senju for generations—tending the gardens, keeping the ponds clear, watching over the forested grounds as carefully as others guarded gates. He was a year older than Shizune, though among all the children scattered across the estate, he was the closest to her in age.
“It’s supposed to be lucky,” he said. “For good dreams.”
“It’s beautiful,” Sakura said warmly, brushing a finger over the bracelet.
Kinoe flushed, ducking his head. Shizune, utterly oblivious to his bashfulness, announced, “When I grow up, I’m going to marry him!”
Sakura blinked, caught somewhere between amusement and delight. Beside her, Minato made a valiant effort not to laugh. “That’s a very big promise,” he said.
“Mm-hmm! But don’t tell Papa yet—oh! There he is!”
Dan and Tsunade were crossing the square toward them—no great distance to cover, but enough for it to look like a small chase. Dan’s expression was torn between pride and exasperation, while Tsunade’s mouth was already twitching at the corners.
“Shizune,” Dan said, catching his breath, “I thought you promised not to run off.”
“I didn’t run off,” Shizune said with perfect innocence. “I ran to Sakura-neesan.”
“And brought news,” Tsunade said dryly, folding her arms. “About a wedding, apparently.”
Kinoe straightened, puffing his chest. “I’m going to build her a house. With a big garden.”
“And little piggies!” Shizune added excitedly.
Dan blinked, then chuckled helplessly. “You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?”
“I live at the Senju compound,” Kinoe said proudly. “There’s a pond there, so I already know where to plant the lotus, too.”
Tsunade glanced between them—the little pair plotting their future, and the taller pair still standing very close, their hands brushing as if the movement were muscle memory.
Her lips curved into a smirk. “Seems like romance is catching tonight.”
Sakura flushed scarlet, pulling her hand back a heartbeat too late. Minato only smiled faintly, eyes soft, as if the night itself had shared some quiet secret with them both.
Below, the river shimmered with floating lanterns, tiny lights drifting in pairs, finding each other and drifting on together.
Dan slipped an arm around Tsunade’s shoulders, eyes creasing as he watched Shizune show off her bunny-patterned sleeves.
Just then, Shizune spotted the photographer still lingering near the riverside stall. “Papa! Can we take a picture? Pleeease?”
Dan blinked, half-tempted to refuse, but Tsunade was already smiling. “Why not? It’ll make a good souvenir.”
Sakura started to step back, not wanting to intrude, but Tsunade’s sharp eyes caught her hesitation. “You too, Sakura. Minato. Come on, make it a proper group shot.”
Minato’s answering smile was mild but certain. “We’d be honored.”
The photographer fussed with his tripod as they arranged themselves near the water’s edge, the glow of lanterns flickering gold and amber around them. Tsunade and Dan stood slightly apart on one side—Tsunade’s ivory-and-gold yukata perfectly echoing the dark olive of Dan’s. In the center, Shizune and Kinoe posed solemnly, their white and pink outfits bright as sweets.
And on the other side, Sakura and Minato.
Her yukata was a soft baby blue patterned with cranes in flight, the silk catching the lamplight like rippling water. His was a deeper blue—indigo brushed with silver threads that mirrored her colors so naturally it seemed intentional.
Sakura noticed the symmetry and felt warmth rise in her cheeks. Before she could think to comment, the photographer called, “Hold still!”
Shizune grinned wide, showing every tooth. Kinoe puffed his chest out, visibly determined to look brave. Dan laughed under his breath. Tsunade tilted her head just enough to flash a knowing look toward Sakura, who, in turning, met Minato’s gaze instead.
The shutter clicked.
For a heartbeat afterward, none of them moved. The night hung still, all silver riverlight and laughter.
Later, when the photographer showed them the finished print, Shizune bounced with delight. “Look! We all match!”
Dan chuckled softly. “Seems we do.”
Tsunade folded her arms, amused. “Even down to the colors.” Her gaze slid sideways, just briefly, to the pair still standing in blue.
Sakura pretended not to notice, but she smiled anyway.
Shizune, still buoyant with excitement between Tsunade and Dan, suddenly leaned forward, her sharp little eyes narrowing as if she’d uncovered something important.
She leaned toward Dan, rising on her toes and cupping her hands around her mouth. “Papa,” she whispered conspiratorially—at a volume that carried very clearly across the lantern-lit riverbank. “Sakura-neesan and Minato-nii match the most.”
Dan blinked. “Hm?”
Shizune nodded vigorously. “Their hands!”
And only then did Dan properly look.
Their fingers were still loosely intertwined, almost absentmindedly so. Beneath the fall of silk sleeves—baby blue and indigo—something glinted when the lanternlight caught it. A thread of red. A small golden pendant resting against each of their wrists.
Dan stilled.
Ah.
He recognized it at once.
His mouth curved, slow and knowing.
“Well now,” he said, far too loudly, drawing Kinoe and Shizune’s full attention. “Legend has it that anyone who wears that kind of bracelet is bound together by fate.”
Shizune gasped.
Kinoe straightened instinctively.
“True love,” Dan continued solemnly, though his eyes were sparkling, “soulmates, destined to walk the same path. That sort of thing.”
Sakura made a small, strangled sound.
Minato, to his credit, did not let go.
Dan lifted his own wrist, pushing back his sleeve. A familiar red thread circled it, the gold charm worn smooth with time. “See? Mama has one too.”
Tsunade snorted softly but rolled back her sleeve all the same. The matching bracelet gleamed against her skin. “It’s true,” she said, entirely unbothered. “We do.”
Shizune’s eyes went round as festival lanterns. “Wow! So it’s real?”
“Oh, very real,” Dan said gravely.
Sakura was scarlet now, heat rising all the way to the tips of her ears. “D-Dan-oji—”
“So does that mean Sakura-neesan and Minato-nii are going to get married too?” Shizune asked in one breath.
Sakura made a sound that might have been a protest. Minato, beside her, only smiled faintly, though the tips of his ears had turned pink.
Kinoe frowned thoughtfully. “If that bracelet means you promise to stay together…” He looked down at Shizune’s wrist, then back up at Dan. “Does Shizune-chan need one like that too?”
Shizune gasped. “Kinoe-kun!”
Kinoe straightened, resolve settling into his small frame. “Ojisan,” he said seriously to Dan, “where do you get a pair?”
Dan choked.
“A pair?” he repeated weakly.
“For when we’re older,” Kinoe clarified. “If that’s how you promise properly.”
Tsunade pressed her lips together, shoulders beginning to shake.
Dan slowly crouched down to Kinoe’s eye level, hands braced on his knees like a man preparing for impact.
“Kinoe-kun,” he said carefully, “do you understand that the person you are speaking about is my only daughter?”
“Yes, sir,” Kinoe replied without hesitation.
Dan inhaled.
“She is five.”
“Yes, sir.”
Another inhale.
“And you are currently discussing acquiring a matched set of symbolic commitment bracelets.”
“Yes, sir.”
There was a brief silence in which Dan appeared to reconsider every life choice that had led him to this riverbank.
“I see,” he said at last.
“I may be young,” Kinoe replied firmly, not backing down an inch, “but I’m telling the truth. I just want Shizune-chan to be happy.”
A short, dangerous silence followed.
Then Tsunade laughed outright.
Dan looked up at her in betrayal. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely,” she said.
He sighed, resigned to fate. “The Senju entrust generations of their gardens to your family, and this is your repayment.”
Kinoe looked alarmed. “I would never neglect the trees and lotus pond, sir.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Dan muttered.
Shizune tugged on his sleeve. “Papa?”
Dan straightened slowly, then pointed a solemn finger at Kinoe. “Not too soon. Any weddings will occur strictly after Minato and Sakura’s.”
All eyes snapped back to the pair in blue.
“And preferably,” Dan added gravely, “after they’ve celebrated at least thirty years of marriage.”
“Dan,” Tsunade said, elbowing him. “As if you haven’t already approved of him.”
Dan didn’t deny it.
Sakura looked moments away from dissolving into the river out of sheer embarrassment.
Minato, however, still hadn’t let go of her hand. If anything, his grip had grown just a little steadier.
Down by the river, the last few lanterns floated out into the current, small glowing pairs drifting quietly together into the dark.