Nothing But the Truth

Chapter 21: Kill the Guard

Author's Note: Oh my god, it's done.

Insert long list of apologies about how late this was here.

But this is the last chapter! There was supposed to be a chapter between this one and the last about the invasion, but I just couldn't write it (cue bitching about writers block). But this chapter had been mostly written for a while, so I finished it up, cleaned it up, and sent it on to Mary who did a bang up job of telling me that nothing made sense, ahahaha.

So, READ THIS BECAUSE IT'S SORT OF IMPORTANT, I added some stuff onto the previous chapter, chapter twenty. I suggest you go reread the chapter because 1) there's an added ending to that chapter so this will all make more sense, and 2) because it's been so pathetically long since my last update that you all probably forgot about this story.

ANYWAY, thank you all so much for your continued support of this story. I'm really so lucky to have you all.

So, without further ado, here is the final installment of Nothing but the Truth.

Nothing but the Truth

Chapter 21: Kill the Guard

"We must kill the guard before we can enter the palace."

― Evan Meekins, The Black Banner

The sun was cresting over the eastern hills, its light cascading on the morning dew – making the tiny droplets shine with an almost tender glow. A light breeze meandered through the forests almost lazily, bringing relief to the warmth permeating throughout the city. Shrill cries from the birds sang of a night filled with violence, their coarse voices coming to a crescendo that drowned out all thought.

And as eight ghostly figures stood in that clearing only miles away from what remained of their beloved home, they wondered how the world could turn so fast while their hearts dragged their feet.

No words were spoken and no glances exchanged; their minds struggled to swallow the bitter reality of what had occurred the night before. Their postures were slumped – defeated, and the silence that filled the clearing only allowed the deafening cries in their heads to echo much, much louder. All that could be heard was the occasional soft, strangled sob that escaped the blonde's lips. Ino tried so desperately to squash the whimpers before they became too loud; for now, all they could do was wait.

Sakura stood in the corner, fiddling compulsively with the necklace that Itachi had given her. She was completely and utterly alone now – the only one without her team. She should have been reassuring Kiba that Hinata would join them soon, that Shino should save his concern because the bug master, despite his apathetic façade, was worried about their absent teammate as well. She could have comforted Lee and Tenten who shared the same worry for Neji, who had yet to return.

They all knew where to go – where they would meet if this godforsaken day were to ever happen. They had promised each other weeks ago in advance – to meet in the large clearing north of Konoha holding the most ancient willow tree. They had been here before, and a crude carving of 13 stick figures at the base of the trunk showed it.

It was at that rare lunch where they had all come together one afternoon years ago, where each of them had engraved a small caricature of themselves into the tree. Sakura clearly recalled snickering with Naruto and nudging Sai while they created their own little team – each squad clumped together in threes. As she carefully etched her short hair in, Naruto quietly thrashed his kunai into the bark near Team 7. The spikey chicken-butt hair and the disgruntled frown on the face of the fourth figure made Sakura burst out with laughter.