Chapter 51: "Snake Diplomacy, Sky Jail, and Smitten Sandboys"
(In which Naruto meets a giant snake, two combatants end up grounded by cloud cops, and Gaara questions his love life—and his politics.)
From the personal journal of Uzumaki Naruto, age 16, future Hokage, accidental tourist:
You know how sometimes you walk into a café, order a smoothie, and end up in an interdimensional bug-vs-smoke showdown, complete with furniture casualties and a love story?
No?
Well, welcome to my life.
So just as everything finally calmed down—clouds settling, tourists reassembling their dignity, and hornets retreating like war veterans—the sky rumbled.
Like, "drums of war in a thunderstorm" rumbled.
I looked up from my still-intact mango cloud smoothie (pro tip: always hold your drink with both hands during ninja skirmishes) and saw a fleet of armored dudes on skybirds, spears pointed, feathers flying. And right behind them?
A 200-meter-long snake.
Two. Hundred. Meter. Long. Snake.
Her name was Nola. I know that now. At the time, I just said, "OH WOW WHO GAVE THAT ANACONDA A CLOUD THRONE?!"
But instead of slithering in all hissy and dramatic, she was surprisingly chill. Her giant gold eyes blinked at us like, "Why are you children always breaking my islands?"
Behind her, the Sky Knights landed like a cloud SWAT team. One of them pointed at the two people who had caused most of the damage (shockingly not me this time).
"You two," he said. "In violation of Skypiea Civil Code 308—Unregistered Combat in a Commercial Establishment—you are hereby placed under sky custody."
Smoker raised an eyebrow, literally smoking. "I'm with the Marines. I have diplomatic immunity."
"Yeah?" the knight deadpanned. "Tell that to the fifty people you scared into dropping their pies."
Even Tashigi stepped forward, glasses glinting like, Captain, please don't make this worse.
But nope. Smokey wasn't done.
"We were attacked."
"Technically," I said, sipping my smoothie, "you attacked us first because you thought Gaara was a sand-based war criminal. He's actually a sand-based heartthrob."
Gaara gave me the look that said, Say another word and I'll crush your mango cup.
Still, the guards didn't budge. Smoker and Shino got handcuffed with… cloud-cuffs? They looked like puffy bracelets but somehow still held Smoker back. Guy looked like he could punch through iron but was being held down by what I can only describe as angry whipped cream.
As they were dragged off, Shino just nodded like he'd planned all this for a vacation. Meanwhile, Smoker muttered, "I swear I'm putting this on my next evaluation report. 'Defeated by cotton candy law enforcement.'"
Then came the real plot twist.
Conis stepped forward, calm as a cucumber in a fruit salad.
"I'll speak to Gran Fall," she told Gaara gently, placing a hand on his arm. "Don't worry. I'll make sure everything gets cleared up."
And Gaara... froze.
No, emotionally combusted. I swear, his eyes did that soft sparkle thing like in those romance anime Hinata watches secretly.
"You know the leader?" he asked.
She nodded with the casual power of someone who definitely has diplomatic clearance, a bazooka under her counter, and the heart of a redheaded sand prince in her back pocket.
"Yes. I've worked with him since the liberation. I help coordinate local trade and safety procedures."
And Gaara just—stood there. Nodded. Said, "Impressive." Which, for him, is basically proposing marriage.
Kankuro was sobbing silently into a napkin behind me. "He's growing up, man," he whispered. "Look at him. My little war machine is becoming a romantic diplomat."
I patted his back. "You need therapy."
I went up to Nola, because, obviously, GIANT SKY SNAKE. She was snoozing peacefully in the shade of a billboard that read "Pumpkin Pie Tuesdays!"
"Hey big girl," I whispered. "You're actually really cool. I think my friend Sasuke would like you. He's super broody too."
Nola blinked once, slowly, like she agreed but wasn't sure how to respond to compliments from someone who smelled like mango sugar and ramen.
I gave her a thumbs-up. "If he ever stops being a flight risk, I'll introduce you."
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Shino:
The flying prison carriage glided through the sky like a judgmental swan—elegant, quiet, and very much not open to negotiation. Inside, Shino Aburame sat on the left bench, his coat ruffled but composed, his bugs tucked away neatly under his sleeves like good little soldiers.
Across from him sat Smoker—grumpy, bruised, slightly de-caffeinated, and mentally drafting his letter of resignation from the Marines. Again.
The silence in the carriage was thick enough to chew. For most people, it would've been awkward.
But not for Shino.
He thrived in silence like a beetle in mulch.
Smoker exhaled slowly, releasing a thin stream of smoke that curled toward the ceiling and lazily spelled out the word "Regret."
Below, the sea of clouds stretched endlessly, the distant spires of Skypiea drifting past like sleepy mountaintops.
Inside the carriage, silence reigned.
These two had perfected the ancient art of Not Talking™. Smoker sat in his corner, arms crossed, smoke lazily curling from his mouth like an angry incense stick. Shino sat directly opposite him, as still as a scarecrow at a chess tournament, his glasses faintly catching the sky's reflection.
About fifteen minutes passed.
Then, Shino spoke.
"You are less insufferable than expected."
Smoker blinked. That was probably the closest thing to a compliment he'd received all week. He exhaled smoke through his nose and nodded. "You don't yap about useless stuff. I can appreciate that."
Silence again. Peaceful. Meditative.
Shino tilted his head a few millimeters. "What brings you to Skypiea?"
Smoker grunted. "Orders. The higher-ups want the island to join the World Government. We're here to talk to their leader. You?"
Shino considered this, then replied, "Tourism."
Smoker snorted. "Bull."
"Partial tourism," Shino corrected. "Partial reconnaissance. Partial resource acquisition. Partial spiritual cleansing, depending on Kiba's mood."
Smoker narrowed his eyes, a little amused. "You people are worse than the Straw Hats."
Shino said nothing. Which was somehow his way of agreeing.
Smoker leaned back, letting a swirl of smoke form a lazy loop around the ceiling. "You've got that vibe. The kind of people who don't go looking for trouble—but find it anyway."
Shino nodded. "We are aware."
Smoker gave him a side glance. "You're gonna be on my radar. I'm not interested in playing hall monitor for the Grand Line, but if things go sideways, I'll be listening."
"Understood," Shino said calmly. "If things go sideways, I'd expect you to."
Another pause. Then, finally, a sigh from Smoker.
"This place has giant snakes, flying food carts, and teenage ninjas with more chakra than sense," he muttered. "And now I'm in sky jail with a human hive."
Shino adjusted his collar. "Statistically speaking, your day could have gone worse."
Smoker cracked a grin. "You really are a bug."
Shino blinked slowly behind his glasses. "Thank you."
The flying carriage dipped slightly as it approached a looming cloud fortress—Skypiea's version of a holding cell, all carved from cumulus and lined with shells that hummed with energy.
"Looks like we're here," Smoker said, standing.
Shino followed, coat billowing slightly in the updraft.
Neither man said anything more. But there was, somehow, the faintest glimmer of mutual respect.
Two weird, silent warriors, trapped in a jail cart in the sky—and somehow, for a minute or two, it hadn't been so bad.
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Naruto:
So here's the thing about ninja downtime: we don't do downtime. We say we do—like, "Oh yeah, we're just gonna chill and eat some cookies"—but somehow, in the middle of a peaceful tea break, we're three minutes away from storming a government facility.
Case in point: me, Kiba, and Lee, sitting at a fluffy cloud table with a tray of almond cookies and a teapot that smelled suspiciously like bubblegum. (Skypiea tea is weird. Don't ask.)
"So," Kiba said, licking crumbs from his fingers, "we agree. It's totally messed up that Shino's in sky-jail for winning a fight."
"And Smoker-san!" Lee added, clutching his teacup dramatically. "Though he was rude and mildly combustible, he fought with the heart of a true warrior!"
I leaned back in my chair, hands behind my head, grinning like an idiot. "Exactly. We're not gonna actually break them out. We're just… brainstorming. Y'know, in case the meeting with Gran Fall goes sideways."
"Operation: Sky Extraction," Kiba said, clearly way too into this. "We hijack a waver, coat it with stealth seals, launch from the western tower at sundown, and use a distraction—maybe Lee shirtless?"
Lee nodded solemnly. "I can flex with the burning passion of Youth and create an optical illusion of blazing fire."
"Perfect," I said, biting into a cookie. "Then I teleport us all out of there using my seal on Shino's jacket. Easy."
"I'm so proud of us," Kiba said, dabbing his eyes with a napkin.
That's when Shikamaru appeared like a sleep-deprived storm cloud, dragging Gai-sensei behind him by the wrist.
"Nope," Shikamaru said, arms crossed. "Nope nope nope. Whatever you three are plotting, shut it down."
"We're not plotting!" I said, feigning innocence so hard even the teapot rolled its eyes. "We're discussing hypothetical scenarios."
"That's worse," Shikamaru snapped. "Last time you said 'hypothetically, what if ramen exploded?' we ended up in a soup tidal wave that destroyed three vendor stalls and traumatized a flock of sky seagulls."
"In my defense, that was science," I muttered.
Gai stepped forward, eyes gleaming with sincerity. "Youthful warriors, I must remind you that prison is not a place for pranks! It is a place for reflection and growth!"
"Gai-sensei, I once saw you uppercut a shark into the stratosphere," Kiba muttered.
"Precisely!" Gai beamed.
Shikamaru groaned, rubbing his temples. "Look, I get it. You're bored. Gaara and Conis are still at the meeting with Gran Fall, and your collective attention spans are… non-existent. But can we not cause an international incident?"
I raised my hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. No prison break. No shirtless diversions. No ninja sky-mission with cloud wavers."
"Hypothetically," Kiba whispered to Lee.
Lee nodded solemnly. "Hypothetically."
Shikamaru's eye twitched.
"Fine," he muttered, flopping into the seat next to me and grabbing a cookie. "But if one of you even thinks about building a battering ram out of dessert carts, I'm tying you to the tea table."
"We'd like that," I said, already planning a cookie catapult in my head.
Shikamaru stared at me.
"…I'm not kidding."
And just like that, we went back to sipping tea like responsible ninja.
(Well. Hypothetically.)
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Gaara and Conis:
If there was one thing Gaara didn't expect from Sky Islands, it was how absurdly picturesque they were.
The entire place looked like it had been designed by a hyperactive dream artist with too many cloud stencils and a deep emotional attachment to white and gold. Below him, vast fields of puffed cloud-lilies swayed with the breeze like they had absolutely no idea they weren't technically real plants. And above them? The sky was a watercolor masterpiece, and the sun had the decency to show up on time and not blind anyone. Shocking.
The only thing more surreal than the landscape was Conis sitting across from him.
She was not like the kunoichi Gaara was used to. She didn't have lethal chakra threads or summonable monster toads or eyes that could track a hummingbird mid-blink. She had a café, a bazooka, and the kind of smile that made it weirdly hard for him to breathe.
Which was probably fine. Oxygen was overrated anyway.
"Um…" Conis said, fidgeting slightly. "Do you always fly on sand?"
Gaara blinked. "Yes."
"Oh. That's very cool." She smiled again. "It feels kind of like a flying futon."
Gaara looked confused for a moment. "Would you prefer a denser grain composition?"
She giggled. "No, no. It's… nice."
And just like that, he had to look away because someone's cheeks were betraying them with the faintest tinge of red. Not naming names. But his name rhymed with Sahara.
Conis glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He wasn't glaring, which was good. But he also wasn't smiling. Or blinking. Or breathing, apparently?
Is he always like this? she wondered. Or is he secretly judging me for owning a fox-shaped sugar dispenser?
She cleared her throat. "Um… thank you. For the ride."
Gaara blinked. Once.
"You are welcome."
Another long pause.
Clouds passed. A bird squawked below them. Somewhere in the distance, a hornet dive-bombed a tourist.
Gaara, for his part, was internally having a very calm panic.
She is kind. She is strong. She wields a bazooka with discipline. What do I say? Compliment her fox? Mention my sand's mineral density?
He tried to imagine what Naruto would do.
Naruto would probably laugh, say something dumb but sincere, and somehow end up engaged by sunset.
I don't laugh.
Gaara cleared his throat, which sounded like sandpaper apologizing.
"You are… good with dials."
Conis blinked. "Oh! Thank you! I've been working with them since I was little."
Gaara nodded. "It shows. Your counter-attack precision during the café incident was… impressive."
Conis blushed a little. "You noticed?"
"I noticed everything about you—I mean… the attack."
Silence again.
Conis tucked a hair behind her ear. Gaara stared at a passing cloud like it had personally offended him.
They flew a little farther.
Eventually, Conis smiled shyly and said, "You're not very used to this, are you?"
Gaara looked at her, actually looked at her. "No."
"Me neither," she said, hugging her knees a little. "But… this is nice."
Gaara nodded once more. "Yes. It is."
He looked down at his hand, twitching just slightly, and let a single stream of sand curl into the shape of a small fox. It floated toward her.
Conis blinked, then caught it with both hands, giggling. "It's adorable."
Gaara looked away quickly. "It's made of iron sand. It bites."
She laughed. "Of course it does."
Conis was now gently petting the iron sand fox, which made tiny yipping noises and didn't bite. Yet.
"I think he likes me," she said.
"So do I," Gaara muttered, and then realized what he just said.
Pause.
Conis looked at him. "Wait, what?"
"I mean the fox," he corrected quickly, but even his sand seemed to ripple in protest at the lie.
She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Instead, she leaned slightly forward and whispered to the fox, "It's okay. I like him too."
The fox made a tiny heart shape with its tail.
Gaara blinked.
Okay, Naruto definitely programmed that into the sand. Treacherous blonde menace.
But even then—when the Grand Palace rose ahead like a castle built from moonlight and hope, and Gaara started lowering their sand cloud to land—he felt something shift in his chest. Not heavy. Not painful.
Just… warm.
Like maybe something soft and golden could grow in the middle of a desert.
Maybe even two somethings.