Out of the frying pan of the bullshit festival and into the fire of the meeting after. Kankurou had never been the type to like meetings, especially ones at the scale of this one, so he sat at the end of the table designated for himself and his siblings and generally tried not to meet anyone's direct gaze. The purpose of this meeting, in the simplest terms possible, was to recap the past four months---to discuss the aid that Suna had lent them and the things they would expect in return in the future (reciprocation, for the most part), the current state of Konoha, and how the two villages planned to rebuild and restructure themselves over the next couple of years.
All in all, boring shit. Kankurou would be the first to point out that a lot had happened in the past four months and that Konoha had sprung back out from the ashes with an elasticity and strength he'd learned to expect from the Fire Country's people, but thinking of the last four months inevitably led to thinking about where he'd ended up, and that was depressing at the very best. If anything, he'd weakened. He'd been struck down by the Akatsuki, he'd been poisoned, he'd been overworked, and he'd realized that there were unexpected soft spots in what he'd assumed was an amazingly controlled emotional drive. Something in him had broken down, and he didn't even dare give those walls and boundaries names.
Kankurou didn't know what the span of time had done to the other jounin present in the meeting, and their neatly folded hands and carefully blank expressions betrayed little of what the significance of this anniversary was to them. Despite the festival, the shinobi of Konoha seemed to be a more somber group now, still remarkably whole in light of their losses but nonetheless teetering on the edge of breaking down at any time. They were still fragile.