“It was science,” Tobirama huffs, turning his glare on Madara. “You left your DNA all over me, Uchiha. I was hardly about to pass up the opportunity.” Obito debates clamping his hands over his ears and humming loudly. He did not need to know that in any shape or form, oh god.

“What,” Kakuzu says flatly. The redheaded witch who foiled his assassination sips her tea, for all the world like Kakuzu isn't trussed up like a sacrificial offering at her feet. “I said my husband thinks you're handsome,” she repeats, as if that will remove the sheer insanity from those five words. “I tried to kill him,” Kakuzu says incredulously. “I stabbed him in the chest.”

Kakashi has a lot of work ahead of him if he wants Tsuna to survive, but at least the company is agreeable. And cute.

“What is that?” Tobirama demands incredulously. “Your way out of this system,” Kushina says cheerfully, and Tobirama suddenly understands far better why she’s hanging on his arm like she’s going to physically pin him in place.

Kurenai looks thoughtful. “So you want help picking someone who will annoy him?” “I want help picking someone who will give him an aneurism,” Asuma corrects, because he’s always been a fan of go big or go home. “Pissing off the mayor seems like a bad idea,” Raidō ventures after a moment, but he’s already looking around the lunchroom, scanning for targets. Asuma snorts. “I'm not pissing off the mayor, I'm pissing off my father,” he says. “Despite what he wants to think, there is a difference.”

“You want me to what?” Hidan demands. “Meet my team,” Asuma repeats patiently, like that’s going to magically change it into a good idea.

Zabuza fishes a dying Konoha nin out of the Nakano. That one action is the falling stone that kicks off an avalanche.

The best revenge is living well. And maybe also spitefully staging a minor political coup to take over Konoha as payback for getting stuck in an arranged marriage.

Agen digs his fingers into the silver-veined bark, smiling a little. Pushes upright, flicking his hair back behind his shoulder, and pulls his outer robe off, draping it over a branch. “A trooper in distress,” he says, stepping forward. “I believe Jedi are supposed to rectify such things.” Two pairs of dark eyes snap to him, and Fives's widen with glee. He wriggles harder under Echo's pinning weight, like a landed fish, and cries, “General Kolar, help! I'm being overrun!”

Quinlan can’t take it anymore, and if he sticks around for one more minute, he’s going to have a reaction that’s entirely inappropriate given the discussion that’s happening above his head.

Everyone is whispering that a Jedi saved the Mand'alor’s aide.