Chapter 356: Drills and Discord
— Part 1: Karin's Trial
The glass dome that sheltered Anko's special training field had transformed dramatically in just two weeks. What once gleamed with the pristine reverence of a temple now carried the scars of relentless practice and battle.
The polished stone bore scuffs and gouges where blades had struck, while burns and cracks had been hastily sealed but still carried the damage from chakra, their faint glow still visible like veins of energy beneath the surface. One wall carried a blackened scorch mark that looked suspiciously like Sai's handiwork—a reminder of his tendency to push boundaries even in controlled exercises.
The air inside had shifted as well. Once heavy and stifling, it now carried a coolness, the dome's ceiling vented to allow thin streams of winter sunlight to filter through. The beams of light cut across the chamber in pale ribbons, illuminating dust motes that drifted lazily in the stillness. Around the edges of the field, shallow pools shimmered faintly, their surfaces rippling with residual chakra currents. The water seemed alive, echoing the traces of Isaribi's training from the day before, when her water release had surged through the arena like a tide.
It was no longer a sanctuary of untouched stone, metal, and glass, but a living record of struggle and growth—a place where every scar told a story, every ripple carried memory, and every breath of cool air reminded its occupants that even chaos could be shaped into discipline.
Anko stood near the center, her arms folded, a scroll tucked under one elbow. Her coat was open, her expression sharp but relaxed — the look of someone who knew exactly how to read what people hid when they fought.
Behind her, on the raised walkway, Sai and Isaribi stood side by side, watching in silence. The training for today wasn't a sparring match, not exactly. It was an evaluation — a "field drill," as Anko called it. Each member of the team would be tested alone, under different conditions, while the others observed.
"Observation's part of the job," Anko had said earlier that morning. "You don't get to hide from each other. You need to learn what the others look like when they're thinking and when they're breaking."
The Setup
Karin stood in the middle of the training field, arms crossed, her glasses glinting in the filtered light. She'd already shed her jacket, tying it around her waist to reveal the mesh shirt beneath. Her red hair flared out behind her like a banner of fire.
"Alright, Uzumaki," Anko said, unrolling the scroll in her hands. "Let's start with something simple."
"Simple for you or simple for me?" Karin shot back.
Anko smirked. "That depends on how much you like surprises."
Karin sighed dramatically but cracked her knuckles. "Let's just get this over with."
Anko bit her thumb lightly and tapped a seal on the scroll. A shimmer rippled through the air, and suddenly six paper serpents erupted from the ground around Karin — long, pale things that slithered and circled, forming a loose ring. They were infused with faint chakra signatures, moving unpredictably.
"First test," Anko said. "Detection. I've scrambled their chakra patterns. Some are mine, some are Sai's, and some are fakes. Tell me which is which. You've got thirty seconds."
Karin adjusted her glasses and closed her eyes, her crimson chakra flaring faintly like a mist. Her senses extended, delicate and sharp — her awareness spreading like a spiderweb across the room.
On the walkway, Sai leaned slightly forward. "She's fast," he murmured.
Isaribi nodded, her hands clasped in front of her. "It's… strange to watch," she said softly. "Like she's listening to something we can't hear."
"She is," Sai said. "Her Mind's Eye technique interprets chakra the way you might feel temperature or movement. She doesn't just sense power — she senses intent."
Anko called down from the floor, "Tick, tick, Uzumaki!"
Karin's eyes snapped open, glowing faintly red from her chakra focus. "There." She pointed at the two closest serpents. "Yours. That one's Sai's. The rest are dummies."
Anko didn't move, didn't speak. Then one by one, the paper serpents froze mid-slither and burned away, leaving only smoke.
"Well," Anko said, lowering the scroll. "Accuracy: one hundred percent. Time: twenty-eight seconds."
Karin brushed off her hands. "You doubted me?"
"I never doubt an Uzumaki," Anko said. "I just like watching you sweat a little."
The Next Test
"Alright," Anko continued, crossing her arms. "Next — reaction time."
Karin frowned. "Meaning?"
Anko didn't answer. Instead, she snapped her fingers.
From the walls, a dozen small mechanical seals lit up — Malik's handiwork, no doubt. In an instant, chakra pulses began firing across the room like tiny darts of energy. Some came from above, others from the floor itself, each one designed to sting like a wasp rather than wound.
Karin's eyes widened. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me—"
The first bolt shot toward her face. She ducked, rolled, and sprang to her feet, chakra flaring as she used her Mind's Eye to track the incoming waves. The next three she dodged cleanly, but the fourth grazed her side, sparking against her mesh shirt.
Anko called out lazily, "Don't think too hard. Move where the chakra isn't."
"I noticed!" Karin barked back, vaulting over a burst from below.
Up on the walkway, Isaribi winced every time one of the chakra bolts hit near Karin. "That looks brutal…"
Sai tilted his head slightly. "She's adapting. Her dodges are more efficient. She's mapping the rhythm of the strikes."
"Do you talk like that about everyone?" Isaribi asked, half teasing, half impressed.
"Yes," Sai said simply.
Isaribi smiled faintly. "You're weird."
"I've been told," he replied without irony.
Down below, Karin was breathing heavier now. Her chakra was a vivid flame around her body, flickering with strain and determination. Another barrage came, and this time, instead of dodging, she caught one of the bolts mid-flight — redirecting it with a sharp twist of her wrist. The spark exploded harmlessly against the ceiling.
Anko's eyes widened just slightly. "Well now," she murmured. "Didn't see that coming."
Karin landed lightly, brushing dust off her sleeve. "I learn fast," she said between breaths. "And I hate losing."
Observation
The barrage ceased. The dome returned to stillness, faint trails of smoke curling up toward the glass ceiling. Anko walked slowly toward her, hands on her hips.
"Good reflexes," she said. "You've got instincts and guts. But you rely on your senses too much."
Karin frowned. "Excuse me?"
"Your Mind's Eye makes you sharp," Anko said, circling her. "But it also makes you predictable. You're used to reading other people's intent before they move — not fighting someone who doesn't have intent. What happens when your opponent's a machine, or a genjutsu illusion?"
Karin's mouth twitched. "Then I adapt."
"Eventually," Anko said, stopping in front of her. "But in a fight, 'eventually' is too late."
Karin's lips parted for a retort, but she stopped herself. Instead, she looked to the side, at Sai and Isaribi still watching. "You think I did bad?"
Sai shook his head. "No. You did very well. You still have weaknesses. We all do."
Karin rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Captain Obvious."
Isaribi smiled. "He's right, though. You're strong. I've seen jōnin who can't sense chakra like that."
Karin looked down for a moment, brushing her bangs aside. "Yeah, well. It's the one thing I'm good at."
"Not the only thing," Anko said. "You've got presence. The others will follow your voice if you learn to use it right."
Karin blinked. "You mean… lead?"
Anko smirked. "Don't act surprised. You and I both know you like being the loudest person in the room."
Isaribi laughed softly from the walkway. "That's true."
"Watch it, fish girl," Karin said automatically, but her tone lacked heat.
Anko crossed her arms. "Alright, Uzumaki. That's enough ego for today. Go grab some water and write down what you felt during that last drill. The next test's in an hour."
Karin groaned. "Homework too?"
"Reflection," Anko corrected. "You don't get stronger by forgetting what you learned."
Karin muttered under her breath but still bowed slightly before heading toward the benches. As she passed Sai and Isaribi, she shot them both a look that was half irritation, half challenge. "You two better be ready when it's your turn. I'm setting the bar."
Sai nodded politely. "I'll bring a ruler."
Isaribi snickered, earning herself a glare from Karin that lasted all of three seconds before the redhead smirked. "You're alright, fish girl. Try not to drown when it's your turn."
"Funny," Isaribi said. "I was going to say the same thing."
Anko's Thoughts
Down below, Anko watched the three of them with her arms folded. For all her teasing, there was a small, genuine spark of pride behind her smirk. Karin's performance had been better than she'd expected — chaotic, yes, but sharp. The Uzumaki's instincts were excellent, and her confidence (though often loud) could easily turn into leadership if honed properly.
Still, Anko could see the cracks beneath the bravado — the hesitation that came when Karin had to rely on herself instead of her senses, the flicker of doubt when someone else was watching. Those were things no chakra could hide.
"Not bad, red," she murmured under her breath. "You're a wildfire. Now we just have to make sure you don't burn the rest of the team down before spring."
She looked up toward the walkway, where Sai was sketching quietly and Isaribi was now stretching her arms, readying herself for whatever came next.
Anko smirked. "Alright," she muttered. "Next round's gonna be fun."
The sound of the wind pressed faintly against the glass ceiling, and the dome filled again with that quiet energy — the kind that came before the next test, the next spark, the next fight worth watching.
====
Chapter 356: Drills and Discord
Part 2 – Isaribi's Trial
By the time Karin had finished grumbling her way through stretches and note-taking, the training dome had shifted again.
Malik's seals built into the structure hummed, faint glyphs igniting along the edges of the floor. The shallow pools around the perimeter deepened, water rising in them as if pulled by an invisible tide. Subtle channels etched into the stone filled and linked, forming a looping system of streams and trenches that webbed the arena.
It looked less like a battlefield now and more like the skeleton of a harbor — dry docks suggested by raised platforms, narrow "piers" of stone jutting over water lanes, patches of open floor like decks waiting for ships that never came.
Anko had ordered these changes without a word, just a few taps of chakra into a control seal near the entrance. Now she stood at the center again, coat open, expression sharp and unreadable.
On the raised walkway, Sai closed his sketchbook and tucked it under his arm. Karin flopped down on the railing, arms folded, still a little winded but pretending not to be.
Anko turned her gaze upward. "Isaribi, don't be shy, girl," she called. "You're up."
Isaribi stiffened where she'd been quietly stretching in the corner of the balcony. She wore a simple, practical training outfit Malik and the clothiers had put together: fitted top with crossed straps that actually supported her frame without cutting into her, close-cut leggings that wouldn't snag in water, light boots. Over her heart, tucked under the fabric, the shell necklace rested against her skin — cool, steady, pulsing faintly in time with her chakra.
Karin cupped her hands around her mouth. "Don't trip on the way down! I set the bar high!"
Isaribi gave her a flat look but couldn't quite suppress a small smile. "I'll try not to drown in ankle-deep water, then."
Sai watched her carefully. "Her chakra feels calmer than last week," he observed. "Denser. Like the current under deep water."
Karin nudged him with her elbow. "You're getting poetic again."
"I'm just describing what I sense," he said mildly.
"Yeah, that's what worries me," she muttered.
Isaribi descended the stone steps, each footfall echoing in the dome. The closer she got to the water channels, the more she felt them — the way their surfaces tugged at her attention, the familiar whisper under her skin that said you belong here.
She stepped onto the main floor and stopped a few paces from Anko. "Reporting," she said formally, trying to keep her hands from fidgeting.
Anko looked her up and down. "How's the shell?"
Isaribi's fingers brushed her collarbone. "Stable. No flux since yesterday."
"Any unwanted shifts? Scales, gills, webbing?" Anko asked, as if asking about the weather.
"Only when I asked for them," Isaribi answered. "And they reversed cleanly."
Anko's lips twitched. "Good. Means Malik won't have a panic attack when I stress-test you."
Isaribi swallowed. "Stress-test?"
Anko turned, gesturing to the transformed arena. "This is your zone. Or it should be." Her voice lost some of its teasing, settling into something firmer. "You've got power in water. More than most. Malik and Tsunade gave you back control of your body. My job is to make sure you don't waste what they gave you."
She jerked her chin toward the nearest trench. "Today is simple: I want to see how you fight when you're not being ordered, not being manipulated, not being used as a weapon."
Isaribi's hands flexed at her sides.
"In other words," Anko said, "I want to see what you choose to do."
The First Current
Anko stepped back a few paces and bit her thumb, smearing a bit of blood on the back of her hand. She flared chakra, tapped a seal on the floor, and four wooden training dummies rose from hidden compartments in the stone — two on low platforms over water channels, two on dry ground.
Isaribi watched them emerge. "Targets?"
"Targets," Anko confirmed. "Phase one is straightforward: dismantle all four, using water-based techniques only. No throwing kunai, no running up and punching them like they owe you money."
Up on the balcony, Karin snorted. "Boo."
Isaribi nodded slowly. The old fear that used to hitch in her chest when someone mentioned "using her form" didn't come this time. She still felt tension, but it wasn't the suffocating panic Amachi had drilled into her.
She stepped closer to the nearest channel and inhaled.
The water answered immediately.
At her call, it rose like a living thing — not violently, but eagerly. It climbed in a smooth column, spiraling around her forearm like a transparent serpent. On the walkway above, Sai's eyes narrowed slightly in appreciation.
"She doesn't force it," he murmured. "It moves as if it's… happy."
Karin glanced at him. "You can feel if water is happy?"
"I can feel that she is," he said simply.
Isaribi pivoted her heel, arm sweeping in a careful arc. The water column stretched, thinned, braided into three precise threads that snapped outward like whips.
They struck the nearest dummy's joints — neck, elbow, knee — with surgical force. With a splintering crack, the dummy's arm flew off, then its head, then the main post broke, sending the wooden form collapsing onto the stones.
The water threads snapped back to her hand, coiling obediently again.
Anko raised her eyebrows. "Nice. Clean. No wasted motion. You've been practicing."
Isaribi's cheeks colored faintly. "Malik's pools are… convenient."
"Translation: she's been swimming instead of sleeping," Karin said under her breath.
"No," Sai corrected. "She trains after everyone else goes to bed. I've seen the light from the windows."
Karin turned her head sharply. "You spy on people now?"
"I take walks," Sai said calmly. "People happen to exist along my route."
"Creep," Karin muttered, but her eyes drifted back to the field, more thoughtful than annoyed.
Anko pointed to the next dummy — this one on a narrow platform over a trench. "Don't just break it. Control the battlefield. Show me you can think past 'hit thing until thing stops moving.'"
Isaribi flexed her fingers. The water was still wrapped around her arm, droplets clinging like scales. She flicked her wrist, and part of the stream peeled away, snaking along the floor toward the trench.
She closed her eyes for half a heartbeat, feeling the channels — the depth of each, the flow, the faint current Malik's seals maintained to keep the water fresh. Then she moved.
With a sweeping arm-circle and a twist of her hips, she invoked the new pattern she'd been practicing.
"Water Style—Furious Current Jutsu."
The channels answered like old friends.
Water burst from the trenches, not as a wild flood, but as a waist-high river spiraling from her feet. It hugged the terrain instead of flattening it, a swirling band that curled around the platform's supports. The torrent surged in a tight loop, catching the dummy's base.
The wooden form trembled, shuddered, then toppled as the current undercut its footing. It spilled into the trench, where the same water wrapped it, spinning it harmlessly before depositing it at Isaribi's feet like a retrieved log.
Up above, Karin actually whistled. "Okay, that was… cool."
Sai nodded once. "Her control has improved. The current obeyed the terrain layout instead of trying to erase it."
"Meaning?" Karin asked.
"Meaning," Sai said, "she didn't try to drown the field to solve a small problem."
Isaribi heard that, and the faint knot in her chest unwound just a bit.
Anko still didn't smile outright, but the corners of her eyes softened. "There it is," she said quietly. "The difference between a weapon and a shinobi."
Pushing the Depths
"Phase one complete," Anko announced. "Phase two: stress."
That word made Isaribi's shoulders tense again. "What kind of stress?"
"The kind you can't solve by knocking over pieces of wood," Anko said.
She dragged a thumb across her fang pendant and flared chakra. More seals in the floor ignited — this time in a wider ring. Four new figures rose from the stone, but these weren't wooden dummies. They were humanoid constructs of compacted earth, etched with faint glowing lines of Malik's scripting.
Their shapes were crude but solid, arms thick like clubs, torsos bulky. Two stood in water channels, two on dry stone.
And then a fifth shape rose — a simple, blank training mannequin bound with glowing ropes of chakra, positioned on a small "dock" of stone near the far side. Its presence changed the mood of the room immediately.
"Hostage," Anko said.
Isaribi's breath caught.
Anko's voice stayed even. "Scenario: You're alone at a harbor outpost. Smugglers are trying to take a hostage. You know nothing else. Your job is to disable or repel threats without killing, secure the hostage, and stay mobile. You know your own strengths and limits better than anyone. Use them."
Isaribi's fingers curled tightly. The old memories tried to rise — burning docks, screams, foaming water red-streaked. Amachi's cold promises.
Attack the ships. Do as I say. When you're useful, I'll fix you.
Her hand moved unconsciously to the shell at her throat.
Anko watched that, eyes narrowing slightly, but she didn't cut in.
"Ready?" she asked.
Isaribi inhaled slowly. The water in the channels swelled around her ankles like a comforting embrace.
"Ready," she said.
"Begin."
The earth constructs moved all at once.
The two in the water surged forward with surprising speed, their heavy steps sending waves crashing up against the stone. The two on land spread out, one veering toward the mannequin "hostage," the other angling to flank Isaribi.
Up on the balcony, Karin leaned forward, hands gripping the railing. "Come on, come on…"
Sai watched without fidgeting, but his chakra was more active than usual — small flickers of awareness reaching out, unconsciously tracking every movement.
Isaribi's first movement was not to attack but to retreat — backward, deeper into the channels' crossroads, where she had more water at her command. It might've looked like cowardice to someone who didn't understand, but Anko's eyes glinted with approval.
"Good," Anko murmured. "Don't fight on ground that doesn't belong to you."
The first water-bound construct raised an arm to swing. Before it could bring the heavy limb down, Isaribi flicked both hands upward.
Water surged — but instead of blasting outward, it coalesced into a sphere around the construct's torso.
"Water Style—Water Prison!"
The spinning globe formed in an instant, suspended between the trenches. The construct's movements slowed, then stopped entirely, trapped in the dense whirl. Isaribi's shell pulsed against her chest as it anchored the technique for her, allowing her to step away instead of remaining rooted in place.
"Modified," Sai noted. "She doesn't have to keep a hand on it now. The seal ring Malik added is maintaining the chakra loop."
Karin squinted. "So she can move and hold a prison at the same time? That's… actually pretty nasty."
Isaribi didn't hear them. The second water construct was already almost on her.
She dropped low, plunging one arm into the channel. With a sharp twist of her body, she invoked Furious Current again — but this time on a smaller scale, a tight band that whipped around the construct's legs.
The torrent spiraled once, twice, then dragged the earth figure off-balance. It crashed into the channel, half submerged, where Isaribi sent a short, sharp burst of high-pressure flow into its "face." The sigils etched into its head flickered, sputtered, then went dark as the clay crumbled.
She turned immediately—
Too late.
The landbound construct going for the hostage had used the distraction to sprint. It reached the mannequin, raising its thick arm as if to grab and hurl it.
Isaribi's chest clenched.
Her body moved before her brain did.
She drew water up in a sharp column from the nearest trench and snapped it outward like a lance. The jet struck the construct's elbow joint with enough force to crack the clay. The limb shattered, breaking its grip before it could seize the mannequin.
But the construct didn't stop. It shoulder-checked the dummy instead, sending it tumbling toward the edge of the "dock," toward the water.
Isaribi's heart stopped.
In that moment, she wasn't in a training dome. She was back in the Land of the Sea. Back on broken docks. Back watching helpless villagers fall screaming into dark water while she hovered above, ordered only to destroy.
Not again.
The terror surged — and with it, something older, deeper. That ancient, alien whisper in her blood: We can reach. We can hold. We can save.
Her pupils thinned for an instant. The shell burned hot against her skin.
Scales prickled along her forearms, shimmering under the training lights. Her lungs felt… bigger. The air tasted different. Her toes curled inside her boots.
On the balcony, Sai's eyes widened. "Partial transformation," he said quietly. "Triggered by an emotional stimulus."
Karin stiffened. "Is that safe?"
"If she keeps control," Sai said. "If she believes she can."
Down below, Isaribi didn't have time to think about any of that.
She dived.
Not into the water — into the current itself.
Her Furious Current sprang to life beneath her feet, forming a spiraling band that hurled her forward. It wasn't like running. It was like being flung by a tide that understood exactly where she wanted to go.
She reached the "dock" just as the mannequin rolled off.
For a second, she saw a child instead — wide eyes, flailing arms, an open mouth gulping seawater.
She didn't hesitate.
She thrust both hands forward, and the channel below erupted in a vertical surge. A column of water shot up, cushioning the mannequin, cradling it. Instead of plunging, the dummy bobbed in midair, held in a liquid cradle.
Isaribi landed on one knee beside it, fingers spread, breathing hard. Her scales glowed faintly along her cheeks and neck, webbing visible between her fingers.
"Good," Anko said softly under her breath. "You caught it."
A shadow moved in the corner of Isaribi's vision.
The last construct—forgotten for a heartbeat—charged from behind, arm raised to hammer her into the stone.
Karin shouted, "Behind you!"
Isaribi spun, but she knew she wouldn't be fast enough to block fully. There was no time to form a shield, no spare focus with the water cradle still active.
She made a choice.
Instead of trying to stop the blow, she redirected the current.
The water holding the mannequin spilled sideways, leaving the dummy suspended for half an instant, just long enough to splash across the floor and under the charging construct's feet. The stone went slick.
The construct's step slipped. Its heavy weight pitched forward past its center of gravity.
Isaribi rolled sideways, narrowly avoiding the crashing mass. The construct slammed into the stone where she'd been, the impact cracking its already-flawed torso. Seals flickered. The torso collapsed.
Silence fell.
The water remaining in the channels calmed. The Water Prison sphere slowly unraveled into harmless mist, the first construct tumbling out as nothing more than broken clay and half-erased sigils.
Isaribi stayed there for a moment, on one knee, chest heaving. Her gills—half-formed slits along her neck—flared once, twice, then smoothed back into skin as the shell at her throat pulsed, helping her body normalize.
Up above, Karin exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "That… was not boring."
Sai nodded. "She prioritized the hostage over her own safety."
"Yeah," Karin said quietly. "That was the point, wasn't it?"
The Debrief
Anko walked over slowly, boots splashing through the thin film of water on the stone. She stopped a few paces from Isaribi, letting the girl catch her breath.
Isaribi looked up, uncertain. "Did I… do it wrong?"
Anko snorted. "You're standing, they're all broken, and the hostage's head is still attached. I'd call that 'not wrong.'"
Isaribi's shoulders sagged a little, relief loosening her spine.
"Let's talk strengths first," Anko said, folding her arms. "You controlled the field. You didn't panic when the water moved fast. You used your new tools — that shell, the modified Water Prison, the Furious Current — without letting them use you."
Isaribi glanced down at her hands, still damp, fingers trembling faintly. "I… thought I lost control when I changed."
"You didn't," Anko said firmly. "You shifted because you needed more reach and more breath. That's not losing control. That's using everything you've got."
Isaribi swallowed, eyes stinging. "It still feels… wrong, sometimes. Turning into that. Even by choice."
Anko's voice softened in a way most people never heard. "You know what the difference is between what Amachi did to you and what you just did?"
Isaribi blinked. "He… ordered me?"
"He ordered and lied," Anko said. "He told you your form made you a monster, and that your only value was in hurting people. Out there, just now? You shifted because you wanted to save someone. Same power. Different heart behind it."
On the balcony, Karin's face went oddly still. She glanced at Sai, but he was just watching quietly, sketchbook open again, capturing the posture Isaribi had taken over the "hostage."
After a moment, Sai murmured, "She's heavier than she looks."
Karin squinted. "What?"
"In her chakra," he said. "There's a lot of weight there. Guilt. Fear. But it moves toward others instead of away from them."
Karin rolled her eyes. "You sound like a poet again."
Sai smiled faintly. "You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true," she said, but there was less bite in it now.
Down on the floor, Anko took a step closer to Isaribi. "Now the weaknesses," she said. "Because there are some, and I'm not doing my job if I ignore them."
Isaribi straightened, bracing.
"You tunnel-visioned hard the second the hostage was in danger," Anko said. "Good instinct, bad habit. You forgot about the last construct until it was right on top of you."
"I know," Isaribi said quietly. "When I saw it fall, all I could think about was… people drowning. Again."
"Yeah," Anko said. "Trauma's like that. Pops up right when you don't have time for it. But here's the thing—" Her tone sharpened. "You still moved. You didn't freeze. You didn't let the fear decide for you."
Isaribi's throat tightened. "I still almost got smashed."
"'Almost' is an important word, kid," Anko said. "You re-routed the water cradle instead of trying to hold everything at once. That's creative under pressure. We can train out the tunnel vision. But I can't train someone to care about saving people. That part's already in you."
Silence hung for a moment.
Then Anko jerked her chin toward the balcony. "Go take ten. Water, notes, whatever Malik drilled into you for 'recovery ritual.' Then come back and we'll run a smaller scenario with someone else on the field with you."
Isaribi frowned. "Someone else?"
Anko's smirk returned. "Yeah. You're all stars when you're alone. Time to start seeing how you move when someone's at your side instead of on your conscience."
Isaribi followed her gaze upward and saw Karin and Sai watching. Karin quickly schooled her face into a smirk and lifted a hand.
"You didn't suck," Karin called down.
Isaribi blinked. "That's… good?"
"It's Karin-speak for 'nice work,'" Sai supplied.
Karin elbowed him. "I can say 'nice work' if I want to."
"Then say it," Sai said.
Karin looked down, cheeks faintly pink. "...Nice work, fish girl."
Isaribi smiled — a small, startled thing that still managed to light her whole face. "Thanks," she called back. "I'll try not to drown you later."
Karin snorted. "You can try."
Sai scribbled something in his sketchbook. "I think they're bonding."
Anko rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Gods help me, they are."
She watched Isaribi head toward the benches, water dripping from her boots, scales already fading from her skin. For a moment, Anko's expression flickered — the barest shadow of an old memory: rivers of blood, a white coat, a cold smile.
We're both cleaning up Orochimaru's messes, she thought. One kid at a time.
Then she straightened, rolling her shoulders.
"Alright," Anko said aloud, voice snapping back to its usual sharpness. "Break time's nine minutes, not ten. Sai, you're next. Hope you told your ink you loved it, because it's about to suffer."
Sai smiled politely. "Understood, Anko-sensei."
Karin groaned. "Oh, this I have to see."
The dome hummed with quiet again — but it wasn't the silence of emptiness anymore. It was the silence of breath drawn before the next wave.
The training field held new scars.
The team held new cracks… and new beginnings.
And somewhere in the stone and water and glass, the idea of together began to take root.