At first light, people already crowded the bridgehead.
The bridge was new, its planks were new, and they still creaked underfoot.
The paint on the railings had not quite dried. Up close, you could smell the wood. People had come from both ends.
A group stood on this side, and another stood on the other.
The middle stretch of the bridge remained empty. No one stepped onto it first.
The dust on the deck had been swept, but unevenly. A man set his load down beside his feet.
He rested a hand on his carrying pole.
Tazuna squeezed through the crowd to the bridgehead, spread the plans on the planks, and crouched down.
The sheet was old, its corners worn and frayed. A small patch on it was blank.
That blank patch could neither be traced nor revised.
He pressed a finger to it and traced it once.
Then he traced it again.
On the third pass, he raised his head.
"This bridge..." he said, "will be called the Great Naruto Bridge."
His voice was quiet.
The bridgehead fell silent for a moment.
Wind swept in from the piers and lifted a corner of the paper. Tazuna pinned it down with his elbow.
He had crouched too long, and his knee cracked. He wrote the name very slowly.
His hands were callused, and his hand was steady as he set it down.
Naruto stood at the front of the crowd, stunned. He opened his mouth but made no sound.
His neck slowly reddened, the color spreading to his ears. Sasuke stood beside him and poked him.
"What are you blushing for?"
Naruto stiffened his neck and shuffled half a step away. Then he shuffled half a step back.
Sasuke slipped his hand back into his pocket and looked toward the