Afterwards

Minutes later, Tsunami , smoothing a stray lock of blonde hair from your forehead, breaks the silence. "Don't you have a meeting?" she asks, though she makes no move to let go.

"I already asked for a reschedule for a later time, since I know I will be late because of a breakfast fuck." You grin when you see the betrayed expression on her face.

"If I knew, I would have dragged the session even further," she huffed.

"I'm sure that's because you don't want them watching us doing it on the table."

"That too."

After a quick cleanup and a kiss, you step out into the brisk maritime air of the Land of Waves. You move toward the center of the village, where the skeleton of the new Konoha Liaison Office is already taking shape. A dozen of your shadow clones are swarming the site; some are hauling timber with superhuman efficiency, while others sit cross-legged on the ground, meticulously cross-referencing ledger books and architectural scrolls. As the original one, you absorb a few of the nearest clones, gaining an instant, dizzying update on the morning’s logistical progress.

You eventually make your way to the village council hall, a sturdy building overlooking the Great Naruto Bridge. The atmosphere inside is thick with the scent of old paper and tobacco. Tazuna is there, looking every bit the weary but proud leader, flanked by several local merchants and civil foremen. You take your seat at the head of the long oak table, spreading out a series of official mandates from the Hokage’s office. For the next several hours, your focus is entirely on the boring but essential work of nation-building: negotiating tax exemptions for Konoha-affiliated trade caravans, discussing the dredging of the northern harbor, and outlining the security protocols for the new permanent garrison.

Funny thing is, you're just a representative, but find yourself becoming a mediator. A dispute has broken out between two local fishing guilds over territorial rights near the bridge’s supports, and they look to you, the hero who gave the bridge its name, to settle it fairly. You listen with a patient, disciplined ear, your mind sharp despite the lack of sleep. You propose a rotating schedule that benefits both parties, using your reputation to ensure the agreement sticks without the need for threats. The numerous clones standing behind you are there just for decorations, even if a few of them are grinning while cracking their knuckles expectantly.

By the time the meeting adjourns, the sun is setting, and your official duties for the day are technically done. You walk back toward the construction site to dismiss your exhausted clones, your eyes scanning the crowd of villagers heading home for dinner. You eyes linger on several potential women.