—Suna-nin—
The rooftop offered a decent view of the market district below.
Three figures stood in the shadow of a water tower, close enough to talk without raising their voices. Two of them had been there for a while. The third had just arrived, dropping down from a higher vantage point to join the other two.
"Status?" the captain asked without turning around. His eyes stayed on the streets below, tracking the flow of foot traffic.
"We've assigned tails to every shinobi that entered town today," the one on his left reported. "All of them are being monitored. So far nothing unusual, just some Iwa-nin, a few ronin looking for work. Nobody matching the target's known profile."
The third member of the group crossed his arms. "Are we sure this is a good idea, Taichou? Operating in Iwa territory like this... if one of our men gets spotted, it's going to cause problems."
The captain finally turned, just enough to glance at him. "I only sent our best trackers, and Iwa's sensor network in this region is thin. As long as our men don't do anything stupid, nobody's going to notice them."
"And if they do?"
"Then we deny everything and let the diplomats sort it out." The captain turned back to the view. "This target has been a thorn in our side for a while now. If we have a chance to eliminate him here, that's worth ruffling a few feathers."
The conversation might have continued, but footsteps interrupted it. Someone was approaching from the east side of the rooftop, moving too fast to be bringing good news.
A fourth shinobi landed on the rooftop, breathing hard. Not from exhaustion, but from urgency.
"Taichou."
The captain turned sharply. "Report."
"One of our trackers has gone dark. He was tailing a pair near the market district, a young man and a teenage girl in civilian clothing. Our sensors pinged the man as a shinobi, but he was dressed like a civilian, so we figured he might be a ronin passing through." The messenger paused, catching his breath. "But our tracker missed his last two check-ins, and when I went to his last known position, he wasn't there. No body, no signs of a struggle. Just gone."
The captain went very still.
"And the targets he was following?"
"That's the thing." The messenger's expression tightened. "A few minutes ago, our men spotted a shinobi leaving town at high speed, heading southeast. He was carrying something, or someone, on his shoulder. A girl with purple hair. The description matches one of the pair our man was tailing."
Silence stretched across the rooftop.
The captain's jaw tightened. A tracker going dark meant one of two things. Either he'd made a mistake and gotten himself killed, or the target had made him and decided to eliminate the threat. Their man was competent, if nothing else. He wouldn't have gone silent without a good reason.
Which meant their target wasn't just some random ronin passing through.
The captain's eyes narrowed. "Which direction did they go?"
"Southeast. If they keep that heading, they'll hit Takigakure territory before nightfall."
The captain turned to face his squad. "Wake everyone up. We're moving in five minutes."
The one on his left hesitated. "Should we contact the main squad for backup, Taichou?"
"No." The captain shook his head. "Tsunade and her squad managed to slip through our fingers. Konoha's going to be making moves soon in response, which means the main force needs to stay where they are. We can't afford to pull men away just to chase one shinobi."
The two subordinates exchanged uncertain looks.
"But Taichou," the third one spoke up, "this is the Black Death we're talking about. Lady Chiyo went after him with her Puppet Brigade and came back with half her forces destroyed. If even she couldn't take him down, what chance do we have?"
The captain allowed himself a small smile. "Lady Chiyo didn't walk away empty-handed. She put some serious wounds on him before he escaped."
That got their attention.
"He got hit by her poison?" The hope in the messenger's voice was obvious.
"Unfortunately, no." The captain's smile faded slightly. "Just ordinary injuries. But from what our intelligence gathered, they were serious. Serious enough that he's been staying in the nearby town instead of fleeing right away, probably waiting to recover." He turned toward the edge of the rooftop. "He's not at full strength right now. If we're ever going to have a chance to take him down, it's now, while he's still recovering."
The two subordinates glanced at each other again, but this time the uncertainty was gone. In its place was the look of men who'd just realized they might actually have a shot.
"We move in five," the captain repeated. "Don't let him get away."
....
—Shinji—
Running through Iwa's rocky wasteland while carrying a teenage girl on your shoulder was exactly as uncomfortable as it sounded.
Not for me, obviously. I got to be the one running, which meant I at least had something to do. Konan, on the other hand, was experiencing what I assumed was the least glamorous mode of transportation known to mankind.
"Sensei," she said, her voice bouncing with every step I took. "Can you, maybe, carry me a different way?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I need a hand free."
"For what?"
"For punching people."
She made an annoyed sound somewhere between a huff and a groan. Her legs kicked slightly against my chest, though whether that was deliberate or just the natural consequence of being hauled across rough terrain like a sack of rice, I couldn't tell.
"I feel like a piece of luggage," she complained.
"You're not heavy enough to be luggage. More like a very chatty sack of potatoes."
"That's not a compliment."
"It wasn't meant to be."
Another few hundred meters passed beneath my feet. The landscape was all rock and dust and scrubby vegetation that looked like it had given up on life years ago. Typical Earth Country scenery. If you've seen one barren wasteland, you've seen them all, but somehow Iwa had managed to find the most aggressively boring version possible.
"At least turn me around so I'm not staring at your back the whole time," Konan said. "The view is terrible."
"The view from my back is my back. What were you expecting?"
"Something with a bit more variety, maybe? I've memorized every crease in your shirt at this point and it's getting old."
"Feel free to close your eyes if it bothers you that much. I promise the scenery's not gonna change."
"Closing my eyes doesn't help when there's this much dirt practically rubbing off on me."
I shifted my grip slightly, adjusting her weight so she wasn't sliding down. "Trust me, this is nothing compared to how bad it gets on longer missions."
"I don't even wanna know what that looks like." She paused. "You still smell like river water, by the way."
"I was literally floating down one this morning. If anything, I'm probably the cleanest I've been in days."
"That's not the flex you think it is, Sensei."
"You're very critical for someone getting a free ride."
"I'll be grateful when my stomach stops getting jabbed by your shoulder." She let out a long-suffering sigh. "And what if someone sees us like this? It's embarrassing."
"Who's going to see us? We're in the middle of nowhere."
"There could be farmers. Or travelers. Or bandits."
"If there are bandits, I'll put you down and deal with them."
"And if there are farmers?"
"Then they'll see a dashingly handsome shinobi carrying his adorable student to safety. Very heartwarming. They'll probably write songs about it."
"I regret asking."
"Most people do eventually."
I took her silence as acceptance of my wisdom. She shifted her weight and tried to find a more comfortable position, which just resulted in her elbow digging into my kidney.
"Stop squirming."
She did, thankfully. Then, quieter: "Sensei?"
"Hm?"
"Where are we going?"
Ah, the question I'd been avoiding thinking about for the past several kilometers.
Where were we going?
I ran through the options in my head as I ran through the landscape with my feet. Konoha was out. Taking a foreign national into the village during wartime would raise questions I didn't want to answer, and explaining why I'd adopted an Ame orphan while technically being a missing shinobi myself would be a bureaucratic nightmare at best and a treason accusation at worst.
Any of the major hidden villages were similarly problematic. Suna was actively trying to kill me. Iwa would ask uncomfortable questions about why a Konoha shinobi was wandering around their territory. Kiri was Kiri, which meant it was terrible. Kumo would probably try to recruit me or kill me, possibly both at the same time.
Smaller nations had their own problems. The hidden villages themselves might be fine, but the civilian towns and villages? They got caught in the crossfire more often than not. Torched, raided, used as bargaining chips by whatever major power happened to be passing through that week. Ame was proof enough of that. I needed somewhere that wouldn't crumble the moment a big nation decided to flex.
Somewhere like...
Actually, wait. I had clones in Tanzaku Quarters, didn't I?
Why hadn't I thought of that sooner? The gambling town in Fire Country, famous for its casinos and loose morals and general atmosphere of "we don't ask questions as long as you're spending money." It was technically Konoha territory, sure, but Tanzaku had always been more loyal to commerce than to any village. People came there to gamble, drink, and forget their problems, not to check travel papers or report suspicious foreigners.
Plus, I had clones stationed there. Had been for a while now, working on a little side project I'd been meaning to check up on. It had been almost a week since I'd gotten any update from them, and I was genuinely curious how the whole operation was going.
"Sensei?" Konan's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. She'd been talking, I realized. Something about the weather, or the rocks, or how uncomfortable her position was. I'd tuned most of it out while my brain figured out where we were going.
"Hm?"
"You weren't listening to me at all, were you?"
"I was absolutely listening."
"What did I just say?"
"Something about rocks."
"I asked if we could take a break soon. I've been bouncing on your shoulder for hours and everything is starting to hurt. I'm also starving."
"Oh. That's a lot more serious than rocks."
"It really is, sensei."
I scanned the area as I ran, checking the position of the sun. Late afternoon, maybe four or five hours until dark. The landscape was already changing around us, Iwa's endless rocks were finally thinning out, replaced by rolling hills and the occasional cluster of trees. We were close to the border now. Another few hours and we'd be crossing into Takigakure territory.
I kept running for a few more minutes, looking for the right spot. Found it in a clearing with grass that actually looked comfortable to sit on, surrounded by trees that blocked most of the wind. A stream bubbled somewhere off to the left. As far as wilderness camping went, this was pretty close to ideal.
"Alright," I said, finally setting Konan down on her feet. "This'll do."
She wobbled for a second, legs probably half-asleep from being in that position for so long. Her hands went to her lower back and she stretched with a groan that sounded like it came from somewhere deep in her soul.
"Please never carry me like that again," she said.
"No promises. Now come help me set up camp."
What followed was less setting up camp and more Shinji does things while explaining them to a curious teenager who keeps asking questions. I had her gather kindling while I cleared a space for the fire, then walked her through how to arrange it so the flames would catch properly. She messed it up twice before getting it right, but that was fine. Everyone messed it up their first few times.
"Why does it matter which way the sticks go?" she asked, watching me strike a flint to light the pile.
"It's all about airflow. Fire needs to breathe, so if you pack everything too tight and block off the air, it'll just suffocate itself."
"Huh." She watched the flames catch and spread, looking genuinely fascinated. "I never thought about it like that."
"Most people don't, which is why they end up sitting around a sad little pile of smoke wondering why their campfire keeps dying on them."
Once the fire was going strong, I pulled out the cooking supplies I'd grabbed back in Iwa. Steak, vegetables, butter, herbs. Konan watched me prep everything like it was going to be on a test later, asking questions every few seconds until I just told her to come over and help instead of narrating from the sidelines.
"You're mixing butter with... is that garlic? And those green things?"
"Rosemary and thyme. It's called compound butter, basically just makes everything taste better."
"Everything?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
She helped me mash the herbs into the butter while I got the cooking grate set up over the fire. The steak went on first, and I showed her how to tell when it was ready to flip by sound and smell rather than just guessing. She burned her fingers once reaching too close to the flame, then pretended it didn't hurt even though I could see her eyes watering.
"Vegetables go in foil," I said, handing her a sheet. "Wrap them tight so the steam stays in."
"Like a present?"
"Sure. A present for your stomach."
She wrapped the vegetables with more care than strictly necessary, treating the foil packet like it was something precious. I let her place it near the coals herself, guiding her hand so she didn't burn herself again.
The steak finished first. I pulled it off the heat and dropped a spoonful of the herb butter on top, watching it melt and pool across the surface. The smell alone was enough to make my mouth water, and I heard Konan's stomach growl loud enough to echo off the rocks.
"That smells incredible," she said, not even trying to hide her hunger.
"It'll taste even better."
The vegetables came out a few minutes later, perfectly charred and steaming when I unwrapped the foil. I divided everything onto two portions and handed one to Konan, who accepted it like I was giving her a bar of solid gold.
Konan didn't so much eat as she did experience every single bite. She'd cut off a piece of steak, drag it through the melted herb butter pooling on the plate, then close her eyes the moment it hit her tongue. Her cheeks puffed out slightly as she worked through each bite, like she was trying to memorize the taste. Every few bites she'd let out soft little hum of satisfaction, completely unconscious, and her feet kicked lazily against the log she was sitting on.
The vegetables got the same treatment. She'd fish out a chunk of potato or carrot from the foil packet, blow on it even though it had already cooled down, then pop it in her mouth and chew with her eyes half-lidded. At one point she got a bit of butter on her chin and didn't even notice, too focused on spearing another piece of steak.
"This is so good," she mumbled around a mouthful, abandoning her table manners. She licked the herb butter off her fingers one by one, then looked mournfully at her empty plate like it had personally betrayed her. "How is this so good? It's just meat and vegetables."
"Good ingredients, proper technique, and compound butter."
"I think the butter's doing most of the work."
"You're not wrong."
"You have to tell me what else you put in this butter," she said, licking her fingers clean. "Because there's no way it's just garlic and herbs."
"That's the base, but I also add a bit of salt and let the herbs sit in the butter for a while before using it. Gives the flavors time to actually come together instead of just sitting on top of each other."
"So it's not just throwing things together and hoping for the best."
"I mean, you can do that. It just won't taste as good."
"Makes sense." She scraped the last bit of butter off her plate with her finger. "Nobody in Ame ever cooked like this. It was always just rice and pickled things, maybe some fish when we could get it."
"Rain Country isn't exactly known for its cuisine."
"I don't think it's known for anything really." She shrugged. "Just rain, rain, and more rain. Everything was always damp. Your clothes, your house, your food. After a while you just get used to being wet all the time."
"And yet you miss it."
She paused. "I never said that."
"You didn't have to."
She was quiet for a moment, staring at the fire. "...Maybe a little. It was still home, you know? Even with all the rain and the boring food."
"That's fair. Home is home, even when it sucks."
"Did you ever miss yours? When you left, I mean."
"Sometimes. Mostly the food, if I'm being honest."
She rolled her eyes. "Of course that's what you'd miss."
"A man has priorities."
She started to laugh, but then stopped halfway through. Her head turned slightly, eyes drifting toward something I couldn't see. The amusement on her face faded into something more curious.
"Sensei," she said slowly. "Are you secretly taking me somewhere fun? A festival, maybe? Or one of those fancy resort towns?"
I gave her a weird look. "What? No. Why?"
"Because there's a group of people heading this direction." She tilted her head, still staring at nothing. "Nine of them, I think. They'll probably reach us in a few minutes."
I blinked.
Right. Sensor abilities. I kept forgetting she had those. The crazy part was she didn't even have to activate anything. No jutsu, no hand seals, nothing. She just knew where people were all the time, like it was as natural as breathing. Reminded me of Karin and her passive sensing. That wasn't something you could teach. It was pure talent, something you were either born with or you weren't.
Impressive as that was, it didn't change the fact that we had company coming.
I let out a long sigh and set down my plate. "Nine people, huh. Just when I was getting comfortable."
"Is that bad?"
"It's annoying, is what it is." I rubbed the back of my neck, already running through options in my head. "We just sat down to eat and now I have to deal with this."
"Maybe they're just travelers?"
"Maybe. Or maybe they're the dead guy's friends finally catching up." I stood and stretched, cracking my neck. "Either way, looks like dinner's over."
I moved quickly, gathering up the cooking equipment and sealing it away into my storage glove. Plates, grate, the little pot I'd used for the butter, all of it disappearing in quick succession. Then I reached for my tanto and pulled it free from its sheath.
The blade looked rough. Chips along the edge, a slight bend near the tip that hadn't been there before Chiyo. I'd put this thing through hell over the past few weeks, and it was starting to show. Honestly, I'd be surprised if it lasted until the next town, let alone all the way to Tanzaku Quarters. Might have to find a replacement somewhere along the way.
But that was a problem for later. Right now, nine people were heading toward us, and I needed to deal with them before they became a bigger problem.
I stood up and rolled my shoulders, mentally mapping out the route. Intercept them before they got close, keep Konan out of the crossfire.
"Ah."
Konan's voice made me pause mid-stretch.
"They're turning around."
I froze. "What?"
"The nine people. They stopped moving toward us and now they're heading back where they came from."
I turned to look at her, lips twitching. "Are you messing with me right now?"
"Why would I mess with you about this?"
"I don't know. Revenge for hauling you around like a sack of rice?"
"I'm not that petty, sensei." She paused. "Okay, maybe I am, but I'm not lying. They really are leaving."
Before I could decide whether to be relieved or annoyed, her head turned again. This time toward the west.
"Actually, that might be why they're running." She tugged at my sleeve. "There's another group coming. From that direction."
"How many?"
"More than the first group. Maybe double? It's hard to tell exactly, they're all bunched together."
I turned to face west, and whatever irritation I'd been feeling evaporated. Eighteen people, give or take. That was a proper squad. Maybe two squads traveling together.
The question was, whose squads?
The Suna-nin had turned tail the moment they sensed this new group approaching. That could mean Konoha reinforcements, which would be convenient. But it could also mean Ame-nin, which would be significantly less convenient. Or Iwa border patrol, which would be the worst option of all.
I couldn't risk finding out the hard way.
My hands came together and four shadow clones burst to life around me. I didn't have to say anything. One look at my face and they already knew what I wanted them to do. A shimmer of chakra later and all four of them looked like wandering ronin, scruffy and unremarkable.
"Sensei, what are you—"
I didn't let her finish. I turned, scooped her up onto my shoulder, and started running before she could protest.
"Hey! Again?! You could have warned me first!"
"No time for warnings."
"At least let me mentally prepare!"
"You can mentally prepare while we move."
She squirmed for a second, then gave up and went limp against my shoulder. "Fine. But wait, what about your clones? Is four really enough to fight that many people?"
"Numbers aren't the problem." I picked up speed, weaving between trees as the clearing disappeared behind us. "My clones can handle themselves just fine against most opponents. It's skill that matters, not headcount."
"But there's like eighteen of them."
"And there's four of me. As long as none of them are S-rank, the clones will be fine. Worst case, they buy us enough time to get far away from here. And if they don't make it..." I shrugged. "They're just clones."
She didn't say anything for a few seconds. "You're kind of scary sometimes, sensei."
"Only sometimes?"
"Okay, most of the time. But in a cool way."
"That's the nicest thing you've said to me all day."
....
As it turned out, the group that had been chasing us were Ame-nin. My clones got a good look at them before dispelling themselves, and yeah, they were definitely from Rain Country. The headbands gave it away, along with the general aura of being thoroughly pissed off at the world.
Couldn't really blame them for being angry, though. I'd seen firsthand what Suna had been doing to Ame villages. Their country was caught in the middle of a war they didn't start, getting stepped on by bigger nations who saw them as either a resource to exploit or an obstacle to remove. No wonder they looked ready to murder anyone who crossed their path.
Thankfully, they didn't follow us into Takigakure territory. Maybe because I hadn't actually killed any of their people, or maybe because chasing a random shinobi wasn't worth the trouble when they had bigger problems to deal with. Either way, once we crossed the border, they stopped pursuing and turned back.
Small mercies.
By late afternoon, we'd put enough distance between us and the border that I felt comfortable stopping. Found a decent-sized town in Takigakure territory before sunset. Not too big, not too small, just another stop on a merchant road where nobody looked twice at strangers. Perfect for laying low.
The inn we picked was a modest two-story building with a faded sign out front and the smell of cooking food drifting from somewhere inside. The moment we stepped through the door, Konan's stomach growled loud enough to echo off the walls.
She looked mortified. I pretended not to notice.
"Two rooms," I said to the woman behind the counter. "And dinner for two, whatever you've got cooking."
The innkeeper gave us a once-over, her eyes lingering on Konan for a moment before settling back on me. Brother and sister? Traveling companions? Young lovers eloping? Whatever story she was cooking up in her head, she kept it to herself.
"One night or more?" she asked.
"Let's start with one and see how it goes."
She nodded and named a price that was reasonable enough. I paid without haggling, and she handed over two keys before pointing us toward the dining area.
The room was half-full, a mix of merchants and travelers scattered across the tables. We found a spot near the corner where I could keep an eye on the door without being obvious about it. Old habits.
Konan slid into the seat across from me and immediately started looking around, taking in everything with those curious eyes of hers. The other guests, the decorations on the walls, the layout of the room. She was observant, I'd give her that.
"So," she said, turning back to me. "How long are we staying here?"
"Just tonight. We'll head out again in the morning."
"And then?"
"Keep moving. Stop at the next town, rest, move again. Rinse and repeat until we hit Tanzaku Quarters."
She nodded slowly, chewing on that. "How far is it from here?"
"Few more days, depending on the pace."
A server came by with two bowls of rice, grilled fish, pickled vegetables, and a pot of tea. Konan had her chopsticks in hand before the server even finished setting everything down, already digging in while I was still reaching for mine.
For someone I'd been feeding pretty well up until now, she sure ate like she'd been starving for a week.
"You know," I said between bites, "now that we're not being chased anymore, I can actually start teaching you properly."
She looked up from her bowl, cheeks stuffed with rice. "Mmph?"
"Swallow first."
She swallowed. "You mean like real training? Jutsu and stuff?"
"Basics first. Chakra molding, chakra control, the fundamentals. Can't build a house without a foundation."
"But I already know how to use chakra a little. The sensing thing, remember?"
"That's natural talent, not skill. There's a difference." I poured myself some tea. "You've got raw ability, but you don't know how to shape it or control it yet. That's what I'm going to teach you."
She considered this for a moment, then nodded with a determined look on her face. "Okay. When do we start?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"How early?"
"Early." I left it at that and picked up my tea. "Now finish eating."
She pouted but went back to eating, and I found myself wondering what I'd gotten myself into. Teaching wasn't exactly my strong suit. I'd never had a student before, never really thought about having one. Yet somehow I'd ended up with one anyway. Guess that was just how things went when you picked up strays in war zones.
True to my word, I woke her up early the next morning and we got started.
We began with the basics. Chakra molding, chakra flow, the fundamental stuff that every Academy student learned before they could even think about doing anything flashy. She picked it up fast. Scary fast. Things that took Academy students weeks to learn, she was getting down in hours. Chakra molding by morning, flow control by evening, tree walking the next day, water walking by dinner. I had to keep reminding myself that she'd never had any formal training before this.
Genius was probably the right word for it. Her chakra control was absurdly good for someone who'd never had formal training. It was like watching someone pick up a brush for the first time and immediately start painting something that belonged in a gallery. Some people just had talent, and Konan had it in spades.
I also discovered she had wind nature chakra, which opened up a whole new set of lessons. Wind manipulation was tricky even for experienced shinobi, and I didn't have wind affinity myself. But knowledge was a different story. Back in Konoha and Kawazumi Outpost, my clones had been busy little worker bees, borrowing every scroll and book they could get their hands on using Tsunade's name and authority. Elemental manipulation theory, advanced chakra control techniques, nature transformation breakdowns, all of it absorbed and memorized whether I could personally use it or not. So while I couldn't demonstrate wind jutsu for her, I could teach her the principles behind them. And she took to it like she'd been doing it her whole life. Within days she was already finding ways to blend it with her other skills, pushing to see what she could do with it.
All of this happened while we made our way toward Tanzaku Quarters. No one came after us, nothing went wrong, and I got to watch a natural genius figure out wind chakra in real time. Not a bad way to travel, all things considered.
The next day, we'd stopped at another town, this one close enough to Fire Country's border that I could almost smell home. I left Konan at the inn while I went out to restock on supplies. Food mostly, plus a few odds and ends. When I came back and pushed open the door to our room, I found her sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by scraps of paper.
She didn't look up when I entered, too focused on what she was doing. Folding a piece of paper into a small shuriken shape, infusing it with chakra, then flicking her wrist. The paper shuriken shot across the room and embedded itself in the wall with a solid thunk.
I blinked.
She made another one. Folded it, infused it, threw it. Another thunk. Then another. The wall was starting to look like a pincushion.
"Having fun?" I asked.
"Very much," she said with a small smile.
"Paper shuriken, huh." I glanced at the wall, which now looked like it had been attacked by a very determined woodpecker. "The innkeeper's going to charge us extra for that."
"I got bored waiting for you." She held up another one without a shred of guilt. "But look, I figured out how to make them fly straighter if I push wind chakra along the edges. And if I add a little more at the tip, they actually stick into things instead of just bouncing off."
I walked over to the wall and pulled one of the paper shuriken out. The tip had punctured the wood cleanly, like a real blade. Not deep, but deep enough to be impressive for something made out of paper.
Her chakra control was already this refined. And she was applying wind manipulation on top of it, layering techniques in ways that most genin wouldn't even think to try. All of this after just a few days of training.
No wonder she'd eventually develop ninjutsu so refined that people mistook them for Kekkei Genkai. The foundation was already there, waiting to be built on. I was just giving her the tools. The talent had always been hers.
"Not bad," I said, tossing the paper shuriken back to her. "Keep practicing. We'll work on making them sharper tomorrow."
Her face lit up. "Really? You'll teach me more?"
"That's what senseis do."
She grinned and immediately went back to folding, her fingers moving even faster than before.
I watched her for a moment, then shook my head and started putting away the supplies. Teaching a genius was going to be either the most rewarding thing I'd ever done, or the most exhausting.
Probably both.
....
The next morning came way too early.
Or at least, that's what it felt like when someone started shaking my shoulder while I was in the middle of a very comfortable dream about absolutely nothing. The best kind of dream, really. No plot, no stress, just peaceful unconsciousness.
"Sensei."
I ignored it.
"Sensei, wake up."
Still ignoring it.
"You promised you'd teach me how to make my paper shuriken sharper today, remember?"
I cracked one eye open just enough to see purple hair and an expectant face hovering over me. Way too much energy for this hour.
"What time is it?" I mumbled.
"A little after sunrise."
"Then it's too early. Come back later."
"But you said we'd start in the morning."
"I meant late morning. Very late morning. Possibly early afternoon."
"That's not what you said."
"It's what I meant."
I rolled over and pulled the blanket up over my head, officially ending the conversation. Konan made a frustrated noise and tried shaking me again, but I'd already made up my mind. Sleep was happening whether she liked it or not.
She tried a few more times. Poking my arm. Tugging at the blanket. Repeating "sensei, sensei, sensei" like it would magically work if she said it enough times. But I'd perfected the art of ignoring people who wanted me to wake up years ago, and she was nowhere near persistent enough to break through my defenses.
Eventually, I heard her sigh in defeat.
"Fine. But you better not sleep all day."
The door clicked shut behind her, and I sank deeper into the mattress with a satisfied grunt. Victory.
I didn't know how long I slept after that. Could have been an hour, could have been three. Time stopped mattering the moment my eyes closed. What finally pulled me back to consciousness wasn't Konan's voice or her shaking, but a smell. Rich, savory, warm. Stew, definitely. And right next to it, something bitter and familiar.
Coffee.
I opened my eyes to find Konan standing by my bed with a tray in her hands. Steam rose from a bowl of what looked like vegetable stew, and next to it sat a cup of dark liquid that promised to make me feel like a functional human being again.
"Good morning, sensei." She set the tray down on the bedside table with a small smile. "Or should I say good afternoon? It's almost past noon."
I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes. The smell of the stew was doing a good job of dragging my brain back online. "Thanks."
Her smile brightened a little at that. "You're welcome. I'll be waiting downstairs, so come find me when you're done eating." She turned and headed for the door. "Don't fall back asleep, okay? You promised to teach me today."
"Yeah, yeah."
The door clicked shut behind her, and the room went quiet.
I yawned, stretched, and eventually convinced my body to sit up. The tray of food on the bedside table was still steaming, so I grabbed it and moved to the window, pushing it open to let some fresh air in while I ate. The town outside was going about its business, people walking, carts rolling, the general background noise of civilization doing its thing. I ate slowly, staring out at the rooftops and the sky beyond them.
I'd gotten through maybe half the food when something slammed into my head out of nowhere.
A rush of memories that weren't mine. Images, sounds, sensations, all of it flooding into my head as one of my clones dispersed somewhere far away. It took a second to sort through everything, to separate what I'd actually experienced from what the clone had lived through.
The squad had taken heavy losses. Only Tsunade, Orochimaru, and the tracker made it out alive. Six others weren't so lucky.
But Tsunade was safe. She was okay.
I let out a long breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
She was fine. Banged up, probably exhausted, definitely pissed off about something, but alive and in one piece. The knot of tension that had been sitting in my chest for days finally loosened.
Good. That was good.
I went back to eating, and somehow the stew tasted a little better than before.
...
Meanwhile, back at Kawazumi Outpost, Tsunade was having a very different kind of morning.
"Currently unavailable?" She slammed her palm on Minoru's desk hard enough to make the inkwell jump. "What the hell does that even mean? His clone shows up, tells us the original is 'safe and currently unavailable,' and then just poofs away like that's supposed to be a satisfying answer?"
Minoru, Commander of Kawazumi Outpost and Tsunade's uncle, leaned back in his chair looking like he'd expected this reaction. "Tsunade, please calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down! That rascal disappears for days, has everyone worried sick, and then sends a clone to tell us he's fine but can't be bothered to come back yet? What is he even doing out there?"
"Hard to say. But considering what he went through, I wouldn't be surprised if he needed time to recover."
"Recovering from what? Being lazy?"
He chuckled, which only made Tsunade angrier. "You know he ran into Chiyo and her puppet brigade out there, right? The fact that he's alive at all is impressive. Give the kid some credit."
"I don't want to give him credit. I want to give him a piece of my mind."
"You can do that when he gets back." He shuffled through some papers on his desk. "Besides, while you were out there, his clones have been working nonstop at the hospital. Helping the iryonin with surgeries, treating the overflow patients, doing the grunt work nobody else wanted to do. He's earned plenty of goodwill around here."
Tsunade opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. She hadn't known about that.
Wait. Surgeries?
She hadn't given him permission to perform surgeries yet. That was supposed to come after more supervised training, after she'd personally evaluated his readiness, after she'd signed off on him being able to cut into another human being without her standing over his shoulder. There was a process for these things, and he'd completely bypassed it.
But even as the irritation flared up, another part of her brain pointed out the obvious. He was qualified. She'd seen his chakra control, watched him perform techniques that most iryonin took years to master. If she was being honest with herself, she'd been holding him back more out of procedure than actual concern about his skills. And with the hospital overflowing with wounded and not enough hands to treat them all, could she really blame him for stepping up?
No. She couldn't.
Didn't mean she wasn't going to give him an earful about it later, though.
Minoru seemed to take her silence as a win. "So maybe cut him some slack. Whatever he's doing out there, I'm sure he has his reasons. And he did find your squad and confirm you were safe. That was his mission, wasn't it?"
She crossed her arms and looked away, still fuming but with slightly less heat than before. "Fine. But when he gets back, I'm putting him through the worst training regimen he's ever experienced."
"I'm sure you will."
The conversation shifted after that, moving from venting to actual military matters. The intel Tsunade's squad had gathered, Suna's recent movements, the shifting battle lines that meant Konoha couldn't afford to pull anyone back from the front just yet.
"You'll need to stay in the field a while longer," Minoru said, his tone more serious now. "Chiyo's still a threat, and her poisons are causing too many casualties. Your medical expertise is the only reliable counter we have, so I need you out there."
Tsunade sighed. She'd expected as much, but knowing didn't make it easier. The longer this war dragged on, the more names would end up carved into memorial stones. And there was nothing she could do about it except keep healing whoever she could reach in time.
Something had been nagging at her for a while now, and she figured this was as good a time as any to bring it up.
"We've been hitting Suna's supply lines for weeks now," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Cutting off their resources, disrupting their logistics. By all accounts, they should be struggling to keep their forces fed and equipped. But they're not. They keep coming, and they keep fighting like nothing's changed."
Minoru let out a slow breath and glanced toward the window. For a moment, he didn't say anything, just stared out at the sky.
"You've probably already figured it out," he said quietly. "There are only so many ways a country on the losing end of a war can keep going this long."
Tsunade rubbed her temples. She had been thinking the same thing for a while now, but hearing it acknowledged out loud made it feel more real.
Aid from other countries.
Someone was backing Suna. Feeding them supplies, maybe weapons, maybe information. Keeping them in the fight when they should have been on their last legs by now.
The question was how long this had been going on. And how much worse things would get before it ended.
Neither of them said anything else after that. There wasn't much left to say.
...
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