He’s not pouting. He’s not, really, peaceful revolutionary leaders don’t pout.

                       ❝Yosh! Let’s go Nagato, maybe we can even buy some ramen in our way back dattebane!❞

                   【 Indeed there was, and he was not a medical ninja by any means. At first, Jiraiya believed that Nagato was the one who was injured but after closer inspection it was not. But then, where did the blood come from? ❝Nᴀɢᴀᴛᴏ...ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴᴇᴅ﹖❞ 】

๑         Mito hummed softly, treading the broken landscape carefully, the ruins of of her home that used to lay beautifully here. Her heart ached seeing the ruins, the bodies of her people scattered about the plain. Although her features held no true emotions, the woman was dying once more on the inside. Just like when Hashirama had passed. She took a deep yet wavered breath, held it, then released it. Allowing few tears to fall before she had notice that one soul... That one soul that she had sensed..              Hope filled the woman some, she sense own of her own somewhere. But where? She followed the faint signature. Carefully calculating where this person would be. Calling out: “If you can hear me, say something, anything! I need to know where you are!” Her voice carried across the broke land, pleas were held in her voice as she scanned the area, “Please..”

“Thanks, Nagato.”

♪ ♫ ♪ ~         “Interesting.. I suppose..”

             “Sure, I’d love to.” she said candidly. Sakura had just about finished hooking the last couple ornaments from the box onto the pine tree. From her seated position she stretched an arm out to reach for another cardboard box and rummaged inside of it in search of the last piece. “Here, Nagato. Why don’t you place it on top?" she suggested upon standing. "You are taller than me, after all,” She held the shining golden star before them for him to see.