Morning light had barely settled over Konoha when I met the Ino-Shika-Chō kids at the village gates. They were punctual, bright-eyed, and buzzing with chatter as if this were just another academy mission. Their youth showed in everything—their careless laughter, the way they kicked stones while waiting. It was easy to forget that even they, children of legendary clans, could just as easily end up as names on a memorial stone.
Nara Clan's kid yawned so wide I thought his jaw might unhinge. "Man… couldn't this mission wait until after breakfast?"
The Akimichi girl licked grease from her fingers, still chewing on some skewered meat. "I told you to grab food before leaving."
The Yamanaka kid looked between them and me, offering a polite nod as if to apologize for his teammates.
I adjusted the strap of my pack. "We should hurry. The longer we delay, the more the border shifts. Every hour counts."
That sobered them enough. Despite their quirks, they followed when I set the pace—fast, relentless. Duty didn't wait, and neither did I.
The march back to the Kiri border was long. Several days of road dust, restless nights, and short, tense rests. The trio tried to keep up conversation at first, but exhaustion and my refusal to engage eventually left us in silence.
By the time the mist rolled into view and the smell of saltwater and steel filled the air, exhaustion tugged at my limbs. Yet anticipation pressed heavier. What happened while I was gone? Missions never paused for sentiment, but a week was long enough for something to shift. I felt it in my chest like an itch I couldn't scratch.
And I wasn't wrong.
The basecamp loomed, quieter than I remembered. Shadows moved like whispers, and the usual chatter of shinobi was muted, subdued. Even the air tasted heavier. My boots crunched on gravel as I approached the medic tents.
And there—at the mouth of one—sat Azula.
Her fists were clenched against her knees. Eyes hard, shoulders trembling, a faint crimson glow simmering in her gaze. She wasn't just angry. She was burning from the inside, a storm contained only by sheer pride.
My shadow fell across her. She looked up, and the sight hit me harder than any kunai.
Her eyes were no longer just dark. They spun with two tomoe—the Sharingan, newly awakened.
My chest tightened. "What happened?" I asked, voice low, steady, though shock gnawed at me. I knew the Sharingan didn't awaken in peace. It required something else. Pain. Loss. Emotion strong enough to rip the soul open.
Azula's lips parted, but the words tangled, knotted in her throat. Weakness, shame, promises—everything she normally carried like a crown now weighed her down like chains. At last, she forced the words past her pride, a whisper laced with steel and regret.
"…Kazuki. I awakened my Sharingan."
For a heartbeat, I couldn't speak. Shock dug into me, but something else rose with it. Concern—because I knew what it took to awaken those eyes. She must've been torn apart inside for them to flare open. But beneath that concern was another feeling I wasn't proud of. Relief.
She did it. She has another weapon now.
It was a cruel truth, but in this war, every scrap of power mattered. I didn't want her to suffer for it, but now… she had something more to rely on. Something to keep her alive when the world tried to crush her.
I crouched beside her, leveling my gaze with hers. My voice came out steadier than I felt."Tell me."
The medic tent's flap stirred, and Yugao emerged. Her expression was unreadable—elegant as always, but pale. She lowered herself beside Azula, her presence softening the edge of Azula's fire.
Slowly, the story spilled between them—what had happened after I left. The ambush. The fight. Miwa's loss. The price extracted by the Mist.
Each word was a knife. Miwa's eye stolen. Azula powerless to stop it. Yugao carrying guilt like it was her own.
I listened in silence, my fists curling tight. So that's the storm I came back to. That's the weight behind Azula's eyes.
When they finished, Azula's gaze dropped, her pride crumbling in the silence between us. I wanted to say something—comfort wasn't my specialty, but she deserved at least that. Still, the words stuck. What do you tell someone who thinks they failed?
All I managed was blunt honesty. "If you feel guilty, then kill the Mist ninja. Reclaim the Byakugan. That's the only way forward."
Azula flinched, not at the cruelty but at the truth. She nodded once, jaw tight, determination rising behind her guilt. Fire, even wounded, still burned.
Time passed in a haze of silence until a nurse stepped out from the medic tent. "She's awake now. You can see her."
We rose together. Azula first, her movements sharp and deliberate, a queen reassembling her crown. Yugao followed, quiet and composed, though her hands trembled faintly at her sides. I entered last.
Inside, Miwa sat on the bed, hospital gown loose around her shoulders. Bandages wrapped half her face, covering what was no longer there. Her remaining eye flicked toward us—and she smiled.
A brittle, fragile smile. Too bright to be real.
"Look at you three," she said lightly, voice carrying a forced cheer. "Standing there like mourners at a funeral. Don't look so gloomy—I'm still alive, aren't I?"
Azula's jaw clenched. Her crimson eyes locked onto Miwa's single one, and her voice cut through the false cheer with raw honesty. "I'll kill them. I swear it. I'll kill the Mist ninja and take back what they stole."
For a moment, Miwa's mask faltered. Her lips trembled, her gaze softened. Her eyes teared up, then she hugged Azula, and cried while clinging to Azula. After a while she separated, smiled lightly and said. "You'd better. Otherwise, I'll never forgive you, Azula."
I stepped closer, my tone steady. "Miwa… what happens now?"
Her shoulders sagged, her smile dimming at last. "My family will come. They'll take me home. After this… I'll probably be moved to the branch family. No more privileged life for me, I guess." She said it as a joke, but the bitterness beneath the words bled through.
Azula flinched again, her pride cracking. Yugao lowered her head, silence heavy as guilt wrapped around her like a shroud. And me? I stood there, a soldier out of place in someone else's tragedy, wishing my words carried more weight.
The Hyūga arrived not long after. Stern faces, clipped voices, efficient movements as they took custody of Miwa. Their presence was suffocating—reminders of a clan that valued order over empathy. We were asked to leave, dismissed like shadows.
Outside, the air was thick with tension. Azula walked beside me, her eyes still glowing faintly with her new power. She didn't look at me when she spoke, her tone sharp but threaded with something unspoken.
"Kazuki. Train me. Teach me to use my Sharingan. Teach me genjutsu."
I glanced at her. Normally, I'd tease, throw a sarcastic remark about her demanding tone. But not today. Today her fire wasn't arrogance—it was desperation. Determination. A refusal to drown in guilt.
So I nodded once, serious. "Alright. I'll train you."
Her shoulders straightened, the weight on them settling into resolve. Behind her, Yugao walked in silence, her elegance hiding the storm inside, though her gaze lingered on Azula with quiet worry.