The camp at the Kiri border was quiet that night. A thin mist clung to the ground, muffling footsteps and softening the smoke drifting from the watchtowers. Rows of tents sat in neat lines, most dark except for the occasional lantern glow.
For the past three weeks, Team Five had been on night patrol duty. With Tsume away on longer missions, the responsibility of circling the camp perimeter fell to the remaining three. Nothing much had happened since Miwa's accident, but Kazuki had made sure the time wasn't wasted. He used the downtime to train Azula in her newly awakened Sharingan, and he'd pulled Yugao in as well—saying she could use the practice resisting genjutsu.
They'd carved out a small training spot near the camp's edge, far from the busier tents. A single lantern balanced on a crate lit the damp ground around them.
"Alright," Kazuki said, arms folded as he watched the other two. His tone was easy, not mocking. "Azula, don't dump all your chakra at once. She'll feel it. Slide it in clean."
Azula's Sharingan flickered to life, the red tomoe spinning lazily. She locked eyes with Yugao, who sat cross-legged and steady. Azula raised her hand, holding up four fingers.
"Four," Yugao said, unblinking.
The illusion broke instantly. Azula clicked her tongue and lowered her hand. "Missed again."
Kazuki tilted his head. "You're pushing too hard. Try again—ease it in this time."
Azula exhaled slowly and refocused. The tomoe spun again. She raised her hand with two fingers this time.
Yugao hesitated, eyes narrowing. "…Three."
A small curve touched Azula's lips. "Got it."
Kazuki gave a single nod, more serious now. "Better. That's progress. But you'll need to be quicker. Nobody's gonna sit still and wait in a fight."
"I'll make it faster," Azula said firmly.
Yugao rubbed her temple, then straightened. "It's already harder to tell. You're improving quickly."
Azula didn't reply, but her posture eased just slightly, pride showing in her eyes.
Bootsteps crunched in the damp soil. The three turned as Tsume strode into the lantern's glow. Her flak jacket was scuffed, hair tied back in a rough knot, and a shallow cut marked her cheek. She looked tired, but her sharp gaze was still there.
"Well, well," she said, dropping her pack beside the crate. "Look at you cubs—sitting out here playing finger games. Patrol duty that boring?"
Kazuki shrugged lightly. "Better than doing nothing. She's getting the hang of it." He tilted his chin toward Azula.
Azula straightened, heat still in her cheeks.
Tsume gave her a once-over, then addressed the group. "Keep at it. Training means you last longer. But listen up—there's news."
Her tone shifted, firm and clipped. "Orders came while I was out. We're done here. Starting tomorrow, we move to the frontlines. First light."
The words hit heavy. Yugao's face stayed calm, but her voice was low. "Frontlines."
"Yeah," Tsume said. "No more safe posts. No more quiet shifts. We'll be in the thick of it. So get some rest. You'll need it."
The three exchanged quick glances. Kazuki scratched the back of his neck. "Guess that's the end of our quiet nights."
"About time," Azula said, eyes steady. "I'll prove myself there."
Yugao nodded. "Then we watch out for each other. That's what matters."
"Good." Tsume slung her pack up again. "No patrol tonight. Sleep. We leave early." She walked back toward the tents, Kuromaru trailing behind, leaving the three in lantern light.
For a while, nobody spoke. The mist thickened, rolling across the ground.
Kazuki finally let out a breath, smiling faintly. "Well. Training's over, I guess."
Azula smirked. "You just don't want me beating you at your own lessons."
Yugao gave a soft laugh, rare but genuine. "Some things never change."
They sat together a few more minutes before heading back to their tents. Tomorrow would be different. Tonight, at least, they could still take a good rest themselves.
The Next Day – Kiri Frontlines
The sea air clung to their throats, briny and damp, as Team Five crested the last rise and looked down at the forward camp.
Mist poured in from the ocean, rolling like a living thing over the rocky shoreline. It swallowed tents and shinobi, spitting them back out a moment later. The air reeked of salt and wet earth. Canvas shelters crouched in uneven clusters, ropes sagging in the damp. Figures moved between them—shadows in the fog. Smoke from cooking fires tried to rise, only to vanish into the haze.
Kazuki exhaled slowly, mist curling from his lips. His Sharingan flared briefly, scanning the ridges and treeline. Too much cover.The mist's other side is a complete blind-spot. Perfect for an ambush.
He whistled low. "Cheery place. I was half-expecting a 'Welcome to the War' banner. Maybe a free drink ticket. Instead, we get fog thick enough to choke on."
"Quit yappin', pup," Tsume muttered. She strode ahead, Kuromaru at her side, his good eye glowing faintly in the haze. Her hand hovered near her pouch, body tense with habit.
"Stay sharp. This mist ain't decoration. You wander off like a lone wolf, the Kiri hounds'll gut you before you can piss."
Kazuki smirked faintly, but his eyes kept moving, sensory chakra stretched thin as he probed for anything—chakra signatures out of place, movement beneath the earth, even a flicker that might mean Zetsu. Nothing close. But this fog eats chakra like it eats light. Have to stay alert.
"Noted," he said lightly. "Motivational speeches still aren't your thing, sensei."
Beside him, Azula's Sharingan spun as she studied the camp with precision—patrol routes, supply drops, limping shinobi. Her pride kept her chin high, though her fingers twitched once at her sleeve. Even with Sharingan, I can't see far through this mist.
Her voice came smooth. "We don't need hand-holding. We'll adapt."
Yugao adjusted her sword strap. She spoke slowly, but her voice carried weight. "Then let's prove it. Together. But for now, let's listen to Tsume-sensei. She's seen more of this than we have."
That settled something between them, if only for a moment.
Closer to camp, kunai flashed from the guards before they recognized the Konoha flak jackets. Relief softened their faces.
The camp's state was worse up close. Mud sucked at boots. Tents sagged under rain. Shinobi limped past with fresh, hurried bandages. Others sat sharpening weapons already dulled by blood.
A stretcher passed, draped in a sagging sheet. The outline beneath was clear.
Kazuki's smirk slipped. He watched the sheet sway with each muddy step.
Ten-year-old kids sent to the frontlines, while Hiruzen and his wrinkled elders sit safe back in the village in the name of 'strategy.' This world's crueler than the story I knew—more bodies, more waste. But whatever… it doesn't matter. I'm not here to fix it. I'm just here to live my isekai. Enjoy what I can, when I can.
He forced the smirk back, thinner this time. "Really sells the vacation vibe, doesn't it?"
Tsume didn't look back. "Keep yappin', cub. The fog'll eat that tongue first."
Kuromaru snorted—half warning, half laugh.
"See?" Kazuki muttered. "He gets me."
Azula rolled her eyes but kept her Sharingan lit. "They're stretched thin. Half of them look ready to collapse."
Yugao's gaze lingered on the stretcher. Her voice was calm. "Which means we stand for them."
That silence after spoke louder than anything else.
The command tent stood at the center, bigger and taut with rope. A captain stepped out to meet them. His armor was scratched, his forehead protector caked with mud, his eyes ringed with exhaustion.
"You're the reinforcements," he said flatly. His gaze scanned them, pausing at the Uchiha eyes before landing on Tsume. "You'll get your orders soon. For now, find space and rest. And remember—" He gestured at the mist. "No lone heroics. Trust each other. That's the only way you survive here."
Kazuki leaned toward Azula, voice low. "Hear that? Trust. Our specialty."
Azula's lips curved, sharp but amused. "If anyone's unreliable, it won't be us."
"Pipe down, cubs," Tsume cut in, swatting the air. "This ain't a playground."
Kazuki raised his hands, mock surrender. "Alright, alright. No jokes in the mist."
But his Sharingan flickered again, eyes sweeping the edges.
They wove through the tents. Tsume's nose twitched at every shift of scent—blood, steel, fear. Kuromaru's low growl rumbled with each strange sound. Yugao walked steady, her sensory threads overlapping Kazuki's. She met his glance, gave a faint nod—no threats, but plenty of unease.
Feels like a graveyard already, Kazuki thought.
He said quietly, "Y'know… I was joking earlier. But this place really does feel like a graveyard."
Yugao's reply was calm, almost soft. "Then don't treat it like a joke."
Kazuki didn't answer. Just adjusted his pack and let out a long breath.
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