Wow, I'm actually tearing up a bit right now. Here is the very last chapter of Song of Aether. Thanks so much to all my wonderful readers for sticking with me all these years, for all 210,000 words. Your readership has meant the world to me. And now, please enjoy:

The Aether's song, play it soft and high,

Like an antler shedding, or a woman's sigh;

Play it with metal slapped on the thigh

For today we live, tomorrow we die.

~Final Verse of the Third Book of Akash

Chapter 50: Endless Song

By the time Yuki went out to meet her younger brother, the forest was colored purple and pink from the twilight, while the shadows were tinged cerulean. The air around her almost seemed to glow, to buzz with electricity. It was quiet—almost too quiet. As if every living thing in the forest was holding its breath in expectation. She shivered. Then she gave herself a shake and forced a chuckle. It was just another normal evening, she told herself. Still, the nagging sense of worry—that something wasn't quite right—would not leave her.

Tossing her head, she regarded the full moon rising like a bloated, awkward pregnant woman, she thought with some humor. Finally, as she rounded the final bend in the path, she spotted Kayato by their favorite training spot. She felt a shiver go down her spine again, but she chalked it up to the chill of dusk and proceeded forward.

"Eldest sister," Kayato began, his eyes dark like clouds before the rain, "I've given it a lot of thought."

"What have you thought about, Kayato-kun?" Yuki replied lightly, not liking his tone. Her body tensed.

Kayato's eyes awoke with the sharingan, three tomoes whirling on crimson irises. Yuki's sharingan activated as if of its own accord as she took a staggering step back. The look in his eyes frightened her.

"Eldest sister," he said, his voice devoid of inflection, "I'm going to kill you."

And just like that, he charged towards her, a katana clenched in his hands.

Yuki's ninja reflexes took over and she leapt out of the way, but her mind reeled with images: the glint of the silver scrying bowl. Scenes from her very first vision, when she had become one with her past life as Mukadori and had seen the possibilities of her future death unfolding before her like a bad play.

And here she was living out the vision she had seen so long ago, with the cold moonlight and the cerulean shadows, and her youngest brother lunging to slice her throat. She bit back a curse as she dodged again, but her mind was still spinning, and her movements were heavy and slow from her large belly. Though she twisted out the the way, the blade found purchase in her arm, drawing a deep gash.

Yuki jumped back and panted heavily, her eyes switching from the sharingan to the mangekyo in an instant. The jutsu felt alien after years of disuse. "Kayato," she breathed, staring at him in disbelief. "Why?" It was a simple question, but it contained within it was a world of meaning.

"I will be the strongest in this village," he stated simply, his voice even. "I will show the world the meaning of power. Those with power shape the future, and I intend to take that power." He stared back at her flatly, and Yuki saw it in his eyes—how had she missed it before?

The madness of greed that had possessed Tadashi, back at the chunin exams; the light that had twisted the irises of her father, all those many moons ago as he was possessed by Madara. She had known this day would come, and yet she had deluded herself—she had hid behind the curtain of her own fantasies until her future had become real.

Yuki strengthened her resolve. She knew that she would die here—she had already seen how battle this would end—but at least she would go down fighting. Like a true kunoichi.

She was not afraid.

She flew forward to attack, her teeth bared in a snarl. But in the moment when she hung in the air like a windblown leaf, she had a pang of regret for the child she held in her womb. Perhaps it would be saved, even though she would not be; she did not know. She had never seen that piece in her vision before.

She breathed fire and he drew lightning, until the whole of the clearing was cast in hellish relief from the light of their jutsu. The earth shook from Yuki's fists, while lighting crackled from Kayato's katana.

But it was no use. Even if Yuki hadn't been out of practice, she was too fat and ungainly to properly fight. And worst of all, she dared not use her teleport jutsu, lest the child she carried die from the journey. She didn't know why she bothered, really. In all probability, both she and the child were about to die. But she was foolish, and she had listened to the Hokage talk about hope and peace and the will of fire too many times. She would not do anything to jeopardize the baby if there was even the slightest chance it could be saved.

Sweat drenched her shirt, and her arm ached painfully from where Kayato had slashed her. Her chakra reserves were dwindling. Her mind grappled with trying to formulate a battle plan, but she could do little but try to defend herself against her assailant.

"Give up, eldest sister," Kayato called in that too-cool voice. "I've been studying your techniques for years now. We both know you're no match for me in your present condition."

Yuki only growled in response. She knew that he was right. I'll have to try genjutsu. The gods help me…

But it seemed as though Kayato knew that she was going to try that. He steadfastly avoided her gaze and zoomed forward, his katana flashing silver in the moonlight.

In desperation, she pounded the earth, displacing enough dust to hide her movements, and sprinted back towards the village in an effort to escape. As she neared the edge of the cloud, however, his sword slashed through the air and caught her on the cheek. She cursed and leapt back, frustrated tears coursing down her face.

At last, as the dust settled, Kayato hurtled forward, his katana pointed straight towards her. Howling, she hurled her body to the side, but she was too slow. Kayato pivoted, and the point of his blade plunged into her heart with a wet thwack.

She sank to the ground, eyes wide as the moon overhead, hot blood gushing from her chest. This is the end, some rational part of Yuki's brain thought. Only let my child live. Somehow, gods, let it live…

The last thing she saw were the tears in Kayato's eyes, and then his long, bloody fingers reaching for her eyes. Darkness came and swallowed her whole.

#

As Yuki floated through empty space, she thought about what tea she would ask for when she arrived at Lady Death's tea parlor. But before she could choose, she saw a great light, and a pair of hands, and she was pulled through the thick moonlight. And then she couldn't see at all, and there was a terrible pain in her head and in her heart.

"Hush now, don't move."

Yuki couldn't see, but she would know that voice anywhere. She gasped. "Aya-sensei," she croaked, "am I…dead?" The words sounded stupid to her, and yet, she truly wasn't sure.

"Not yet, Yuki-chan. Not yet," she replied, her voice hoarse with tears. Yuki felt a great surge of healing chakra, and she floated off towards a thick cloud of oblivion once again. As her consciousness slipped away, she whispered, "Save my baby, Aya-sensei..."

#

It was three days later when Yuki finally woke, blind and groggy, but somehow alive.

"Yuki-chan," Aya intoned, in a voice that was older than her years, "you must take my eyes and fight your youngest brother."

Yuki did not respond right away. She sipped the bitter medicine Aya had given her and grimaced, though not from the taste. "Why can't you fight him, Aya-sensei? I'm half dead." She laughed mirthlessly.

"You must," Aya said, her tone suddenly going cold. "This is your destiny. Your fate."

Yuki cursed under her breath and tipped back her cup, taking the rest of the medicine in one gulp. "What about the child, Aya-sensei? I can't…" she trailed off, too choked up to speak. Somehow, the baby had survived the battle; she did not know if it would survive a fight a second time.

Aya sighed, then kissed Yuki on the forehead. "Come now. We don't have much time."

A few hours later, Yuki rose from her sick bed, Aya's eyes in her head. "We both know that I will not survive this battle, Aya-sensei," Yuki whispered. "Can't we deliver the baby first? Please." She made no effort to hide the pleading note in her voice.

Aya shook her head, her eyelids closed over empty sockets. "As I told you before, it is against the will of the spirits."

Yuki squeezed her eyes closed and tried to force down the feeling of cold dread in her stomach. She was certain she'd fight better without worrying about the baby, but she trusted Aya's judgement. Who knew what fate held for this child, if it was truly slated to survive the day, or…? She gritted her teeth and did not complete the thought.

"I'm ready, sensei. Please open the portal."

Aya drew her into a shaky hug, then stepped back quickly. With a flash of her hands, a silvery disk opened up in the middle of the air, humming like a hive of bees, rippling like water. Without stopping to think about what she was doing, Yuki leapt through.

When she stumbled out of the portal, she landed on the outskirts of Konoha, which was bathed in sallow light from the waning moon. The sky was overcast with orange and red-lit clouds, and Yuki felt her heart racing at the sight of it. The hellish light was cast by a huge fire raging inside of the village, consuming countless buildings.

She sped forward, a silent shadow on the face of the night. As she approached the village, she saw hordes of bandits streaming through the breached walls. From a cursory glance with her sharingan, she could tell from their uniforms and headbands that they were a motley crew from all different villages. So this is what my youngest brother did when he traveled as a diplomat to other countries—he gathered recruits. She stifled the urge to spit in disgust and instead quickened her pace, anger coursing through her.

She leapt through one of the ruined walls and entered the village silently, avoiding any notice by virtue of genjutsu. She could not afford to linger here—not when he was in there somewhere.

She didn't have to look far to find her younger brother Kayato: he was at the center of the chaos, locked in battle with the Hokage's youngest son, Ushio. The village was ruined in a radius of a hundred feet in every direction from the force of their jutsu. Buildings had been completely flattened, and the earth was pockmarked with deep craters.

She glanced around quickly for the Hokage, but could not find him. For a moment, she wondered if she should find Saki, or her mother and father. But she shook her head. She had wasted enough time already. As quickly as she could, she darted forward, keeping low to the ground. The two nin were so intent on their own fight, they hardly noticed her. When a natural pause in the battle occurred, she lunged forward, shoved Ushio out of the way and threw up a barrier around herself and Kayato before either man could react.

"Little brother," she breathed, her eyes glowing red with the sharingan.

He blanched at the sight of her. Before he could react, Yuki dashed towards him, kunai in hand—she was not the one caught unawares this time. A shrill, wailing sound filled the air. Kayato braced himself for an attack, but none came. As he crouched in defense, he peered at his sister and saw that she had used her kunai to slash open her own palms. She slammed them down on the ground in front of him and cried:

"I call on the blood of the ancestors!"

He took a step back, eyes wide as he regarded the shifting shadows gathering around him.

"What is this?" he demanded. "What did you do?"

As if in answer, Yuki activated her susano. He bit off a curse—how could she not only be alive, but use a jutsu associated with the eyes he had stolen from her?—and he activated his own susano, his chakra roaring to life.

It did not matter, he assured himself. He had come this far, and nothing—not even the ghost of his dead sister—could stop him.

However, his lips parted in surprise when he met the gaze of the shinobi facing him: inside of the blazing susano was not Uchiha Yuki, or at least, not exactly. She was at the center of overlapping energies. He didn't know how else to explain it. It was like she was in the center of three different chakra systems, three different people. And her eyes—

One eye was a mangekyo, and the other—a rinnegan.

"This is the end, brother." He started at that. The voice seem multiplied, echoing, as if if came from more than one person.

He shook his head and prepared to block Yuki's fiery sword that she drew from a gourd-shaped jar. Then his mouth went dry when he recognized her weapon.

Is that—the Sword of Totsuka?!

The sword swung down, sparking wildly as it flew towards him. He braced his shield against its weight, but it was no use: the blinding sword sliced his shield neatly in two, found purchase in his susano's armor, and embedded itself in his flesh.

"NO!" he shouted as a vortex sucked him in to Itachi's legendary sword, his pitiful cry piercing the night.

When the barrier came crashing down a moment later, Yuki collapsed to the ground, utterly exhausted. Kayato, however, was no where to be found, nor would he ever return again.

There was a whirl of pink in front of her. "Yuki-chan! Oh, Yuki! Yuki!" Saki wailed her name over and over again, as if her cries could change fate.

"Saki," Yuki croaked, smiling faintly at the sight of her, "save the baby."

"But you—"

Yuki began coughing, but somehow, she managed to get out, "Saki-chan. I don't have much time. The baby will die if left in my body for much longer... You have to save the child—now." The fit of coughing returned, obscuring anything else she might have said.

Saki covered her mouth and fought back the urge to weep. Even without touching her sister, she could see that her chakra was fading fast. "Yuki-chan," she whispered, her face going as white as Yuki's own bloodless one. She forced herself to take a deep breath and steadied her hands.

Without delaying any longer, she cut two precise incisions on Yuki's belly. Yuki didn't feel any pain at all. Instead, she smiled, her black eyes reflecting the light of the silver moon.

With trembling hands, Saki placed the bloody, wailing infant in Yuki's weak arms. Yuki smiled down at it, and said in a small voice, "I will name this child Gin—'silver,' for the silver moonlight." Yuki shifted slightly, and the moonlight bathed the child's face. "Gin will walk the dream world just as I did—I'm sure of it." She smiled softly, lost in thought, her vision blurring. Then she shook her head and gritted her teeth, fighting to stay conscious just a moment longer. "Saki," she ordered, "remove my eyes."

"What? I can't!" she replied, horrified.

"You must. If you leave them in my body, they'll die with me, and they aren't mine to have. Saki-chan? Please…"

Yuki's pleading tone broke Saki's heart. It was clear that Yuki was dying—how could she deny her final wishes? She removed her sister's eyes, one by one, and placed them in a jar that Yuki had ready in her pocket, as if she had planed for this macabre ending all along.

Yuki's arms became too weak to hold the wailing infant, so Saki tenderly took the babe from her. "Yuki-chan, let me stop the bleeding. I can still save you!"

"No, Saki-chan. We both know it's too late." Her smile widened, and her vacant eyes seemed to scan the stars. "He's here to take me. I knew he'd come. Yes, I missed you too," she whispered, her empty eyes seeing things which no one else could. Saki spared a glance for her sister's poor body before activating her own sharingan. But she could not properly see, because tears blurred her vision.

"Yuki-chan," Saki whispered, knowing there was nothing left she could do.

"Ryuu-kun, I'm tired. Take me home," Yuki murmured, and then, the breath stilled in her chest. As she lay motionless, a silver light gathered around her in a blinding nimbus—and her body simply disappeared from sight. Saki blinked at the empty spot where Yuki had been, at the blood still staining the cold ground, and began to weep. Her sobs mingled with the sound of the infant crying in her arms.

At last, Saki took a deep breath, stilling her cries. She had a duty to Yuki's child now. Through her tears, she gazed at Gin's tiny face. Her sobs, too, had stilled. The baby drew in shuddering breaths, but she was alive. The last remnant of her sister. All at once, the baby's eyes snapped open, and Saki gasped: in her arms was the first baby born not only with the sharingan, but with the mangykyo.

Pain constricting her heart, so terrible that she thought she might explode. Saki looked away from the child, and for the first time, noticed that Sakura was sitting beside her, her face shinning with tears. Saki had no idea when she had arrived.

Her mother met her stricken gaze. "Saki-chan," she said, her voice rasping with sorrow, "you have the mangekyo, too."

Saki said nothing. The night air was still now; almost silent. The only noise was the low moan of the wind. She glanced away from her mother and looked up into the sky, where pale silver lights danced amid the stars. Her mouth parted in surprise: Uzumaki Ryuu and Uchiha Yuki glimmered high above, appearing as they were when they had been genin. They ran across the pathways of stars and space, retreating until nothing remained but a golden light gently shimmering in heavens.

Saki's mouth twisted in a bitter-sweet smile. She swore she could hear their laughter, even now, echoing distantly across the night sky.

#

When Saki gave her mission report, the Hokage hung his head. He was too old for this, damn it. Too old to fight crazed Uchihas and rag-tag armies. He had been wounded on the second day of the assault, so carefully planned by Uchiha Kayato. The betrayal made it all the more painful. How could something so sinister be planned by a boy he had known and helped raise since infancy?

Maybe it was the world of ninja, destined to never know peace. Ninja were abominations, aberrations of chakra, and as long as they lived, war was inevitable and peace a dream for senile old men.

He couldn't believe that two of Sasuke's children were now dead—dead, because Naruto had been a fool blinded by trust. The sadness he felt was worse for knowing how Sasuke and Sakura were suffering.

But there was nothing for it, nothing to do now but to clean up the village and move on as best as they could. He stayed up through the night despite his wounds, taking reports, giving orders, and trying to make sense of what had happened. When dawn finally bleached the horizon, the light gave him little comfort.

The air was heavy in Konoha the next day, as if a smothering fog had settled on the village. The ANBU interrogated their prisoners, the nin rebuilt the village walls, while everything was pervaded by a stark silence. Sasuke sat with Sakura, their tiny grandchild in Sasuke's arms, unable to speak. Here was a death and here was a birth, the price of life; two children were gone, but here was this strange creature, this grandchild who blinked up at them with sharingan eyes, and sometimes, a six pointed star. It would seem like the child could look into your soul and smile, as if she were very old, and not newly born.

It was decided that Sasuke would raise the child himself; for one, the aging shinobi wanted to. But the most pressing reason was that only he could handle the babe: since he was blind, her random usage of the mangekyo had no effect on him. And if sometimes, while he lulled the crying child to sleep— because it seemed the infant cried often, more so than a normal child—if he accidentally called her "Yuki" instead of her given name, no one had the heart to correct his mistake.

#

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. When a placid melancholy took the place of the fervor of war and the emptiness its aftermath, Naruto decided to build a monument. He had been inspired by Saki's report, that Yuki had whispered Ryuu's name and danced away with him on a highway of stars. Sasuke agreed with Naruto, and he wanted to help. It would do them good, to externalize this grief. To build it with stone. Somehow, it would make this unbearable sadness less oppressive.

Yamato offered to help, long since retired from the forces. Takeo also volunteered, since he was talented in earth jutsu as well. Naruto outlined family pictures with chakra ink so Sasuke could trace them to choose the images they would use. Yamato made a model out of wood first, and it was so lovely that Takeo had very little to improve on.

By the gates of the Uchiha compound, across from the memorial to Itachi, they built an arch out of the bending forms of Uzumaki Ryuu and Uchiha Yuki, their fingers touching to form a bridge, their faces smiling, appearing as they were in their genin days. Sasuke explored it with his chakra and nodded solemnly, Yuki's child in his arms. Sakura trembled as she gazed at it, tears in her eyes. They had a dedication ceremony, and Sasuke played Yuki's old silver flute, a lilting tune, reminiscent of the piece Yuki herself had played, so many moons ago, at Ryuu-kun's funeral.

As he played the mournful song, Saki looked up, up over the silver music. She swore she saw spirits dancing, and Yuki herself, smiling, stars in her eyes.

The nin of Konoha, gazing on, felt content. Now that the statue was here, things would be all right; at least, that is what it seemed. It was almost as if the figures would watch over them.

Naruto read the inscription below to the assembled:

All who walk under this gate, let them remember those who died for peace, and set forth to live in peace.

And it was so for many years.

Long, long after Konoha was but a faded memory, and her buildings, houses, and walls all lay in ruin and rubble, the only structure that seemed to have escaped destruction were the smiling statues of Yuki and Ryuu. They stood in a field covered with wildflowers where houses had once stood. The paint on the monument had long since worn away, making the stark white marble sparkle in the sun, and it was no longer possible to differentiate the features on the faces, except for the hint of two pale smiles.

In winter, snow would pile up on their heads and shoulders. In summer, birds would roost on their arms, drying their wings in the sun and singing sweetly.

And every so often, though there was not a soul to hear it except for, perhaps, the birds, flute music would ring out in the desolate glade, and the sound of children's laughter could be heard, floating on the breeze like a joyful, lilting song.

THE END

Thanks so much for reading;) I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!