Konohagakure
The soft amber hues of the late afternoon sun stretched across the cobblestones of the Uchiha compound, casting long shadows from the neatly arranged homes and training areas. Rei walked through the familiar pathways, this time with a purpose different from her usual visits. She had come here many times to train with Obito before, drawn by his persistence and his grand claims that "the Uchiha compound has the best sparring spots in all of Konoha." But tonight wasn't about training. Tonight, she was here as a guest. For dinner.
Her pace slowed as she approached Obito's home, standing slightly apart from the larger, more traditional Uchiha homes in the compound. She adjusted the strap of her small shoulder bag and looked up at the modest structure, feeling a strange nervousness settle in the pit of her stomach. She shouldn't feel this way—she'd known Obito for years, after all—but accepting his invitation after months of avoiding him made the visit feel heavier than it really was. The bundle of herbs she carried, meant as a gift for his grandmother's persistent cough, felt foreign in her hands. Still, she had to do this. It wasn't fair to Obito to ignore him any longer, especially with the final exams coming up.
As Rei adjusted her bag and prepared to knock, a voice broke the quiet.
"So, you finally decided to show up," came the unmistakable low tone of Fugaku Uchiha.
Rei turned, startled, to find the clan head standing a few paces away, his arms crossed and his sharp eyes fixed on her. His expression was, as always, unreadable, but there was something in the way he regarded her—something subtle, almost approving.
"Uchiha-san," Rei greeted, bowing slightly out of respect. "Good evening."
"You're here for Obito?" Fugaku asked, his tone clipped but not unkind.
"Yes, he invited me to dinner," Rei replied carefully. Truthfully, she'd half-expected Fugaku to disapprove of the invitation, but to her surprise, he nodded slightly, as if the matter warranted no further comment.
Before she could move to knock on the door, Fugaku spoke again. "Rei," he said, gesturing toward the garden path behind him. "Before you head inside, come with me. There's someone I'd like you to meet."
Rei hesitated, caught off guard by the request. Though Fugaku had shown flashes of concern for her in the past—most notably when he and Sakumo Hatake had visited her apartment to offer their quiet support—he was still a man of few words. Their interactions were always measured, his emotions carefully contained. While she respected him as a leader and a shinobi, she never imagined he'd take a particular interest in her beyond those moments. Yet, standing before him now, his tone made it clear that this wasn't a casual suggestion. There was weight behind his words, and refusing him didn't feel like an option.
"Of course," she said after a moment, following him down the gently lit path.
The air was cooler here, the faint scent of cherry blossoms lingering as they approached a small enclosed garden. A woman sat on a bench beneath one of the trees, her dark hair cascading in waves over her shoulders. There was a softness to her presence, her hands resting lightly on her rounded belly as she gazed at the blossoms overhead. She turned at the sound of their footsteps, her expression brightening as she noticed Rei.
"Mikoto," Fugaku said, his tone softening as he gestured toward Rei, "this is the shinobi I've told you about."
Mikoto smiled warmly, her dark eyes full of welcome. "You must be Rei," she said, standing slowly. Her hand rested on her belly as she walked over to greet her. "It's lovely to finally meet you. Fugaku's said very good things."
Rei blinked, momentarily speechless. She couldn't imagine Fugaku going out of his way to speak highly of anyone, let alone her. "It's an honor to meet you, Uchiha-san," she said, bowing politely.
"Mikoto," the woman corrected gently. "None of that formality. And the honor is mine." She paused, her gaze sweeping over Rei with a motherly kind of curiosity. "You're even more composed than Fugaku described. He said you've been training here for some time?"
"Yes," Rei replied, glancing at Fugaku, who stood silently a short distance away. "Obito invited me to spar here a while ago... but I didn't realize Uchiha-sama..." She trailed off, unsure how to phrase the thought.
"That I care about who trains here?" Fugaku finished flatly. His lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. "I don't need to tell you that the Uchiha name comes with expectations. That includes the people we choose to associate with."
Rei's shoulders stiffened at the implication, but Mikoto took a step forward, her warm voice gently dispelling the tension. "Forgive Fugaku," she said, placing a hand lightly on Rei's shoulder. "He's just trying to say that he sees potential in you. It's rare for him to say anything about anyone, so trust me when I say it's no small thing."
Rei looked between the two of them, unsure of how to respond. Fugaku's stoic approval was as unexpected as it was intimidating, but Mikoto's calm demeanor put her at ease. "Thank you," she said finally, her voice quieter now. "It means a lot."
Fugaku nodded once, apparently satisfied, while Mikoto beamed. She placed both hands on her belly, her expression softening again. "I'm glad you came by tonight. I've been meaning to meet you before the baby arrives—he's due in just a few weeks."
Rei glanced at her belly, suddenly understanding the weight of the moment. She smiled faintly. "Congratulations. I hope he's healthy and strong."
Mikoto nodded. "Thank you, Rei. You'll have to visit again after he's born."
"I will," Rei promised, her gaze flicking briefly to Fugaku, who stood like a silent sentinel nearby. For all his harshness, there was something quietly reassuring about his presence.
"Go," Fugaku said after a beat of silence, gesturing toward the path where they had come. "Obito will be waiting."
Rei nodded, bowing politely to both of them before turning to leave. As she walked back toward Obito's house, the sounds of the Uchiha compound surrounded her: the faint laughter of children playing in a nearby courtyard, the rhythmic clinking of dishes from homes preparing for the evening meal, and the low murmur of voices as families gathered together. The weight of Fugaku's lingering gaze still sat on her shoulders, though it no longer felt as heavy or intimidating as it once had. Instead, there was a strange reassurance in it—an acknowledgment that perhaps he saw more in her than most people did.
The meeting with Mikoto echoed in her mind as she approached Obito's modest home. Mikoto's warm smile and gentle demeanor had struck a deeply personal chord within Rei, stirring memories she rarely allowed herself to linger on. There was something unmistakably familiar in the way Mikoto carried herself—calm, kind, and quietly supportive. It reminded Rei of Aiko, her mother.
Rei hadn't thought of her mother in a long time. It was easier that way, easier to push the memories to the back of her mind and bury the aching sense of loss that came whenever Aiko's face surfaced. But Mikoto's presence had brought it all rushing back—the soft touch of her mother's hand on her shoulder when she'd gotten hurt at the park, the quiet reassurances that she was strong enough to handle anything, the way Aiko had always seen her not just for who she is.
Mikoto's warmth reminded her of a time before the whispers and suspicions, before Takeshi's coma and the burden of proving her loyalty. The rare feeling of being cared for not because of her abilities, but simply for who she was. That feeling had become so foreign that it nearly overwhelmed her now.
Yet, as she walked the stone path toward Obito's home, she held tightly to the memory. Mikoto's simple kindness had unlocked something in her that felt fragile but important—a reminder that perhaps, somewhere deep inside, Rei still yearned to be seen in the way her mother once saw her.
She stopped in front of Obito's door, raised her hand to knock just as the door swung open, revealing Obito's wide grin.
"Rei!" he said, practically bouncing in place. "You actually came! I thought you were gonna come up with an excuse like, 'I'm too busy,' or 'I have D-rank missions,' or something boring like that. But you're here!"
Rei couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. Obito's unfiltered excitement was contagious, even if it made her a little self-conscious. "Well, I figured you'd never leave me alone if I didn't show up eventually," she teased lightly, her tone softer than usual.
"Exactly!" Obito said, stepping aside to let her in. "Come in, come in! You've gotta meet Grandma properly this time. She's been dying to meet you."
As Rei stepped inside, the cozy warmth of the house engulfed her. The faint scent of spices and simmering broth wafted from the kitchen, and she could hear the occasional clatter of pots and pans. The home was smaller than the grander Uchiha residences, but it was filled with a kind of warmth that made it feel alive, as though every corner had been infused with love and care.
"Grandma!" Obito called, his voice carrying a note of excitement. "Rei's here!"
An elderly woman appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. Her silver hair was tied back in a loose bun, and though her frame was small and slightly hunched, her eyes sparkled with a sharp intelligence that immediately reminded Rei of Obito.
"So, this is the famous Rei," the woman said, her voice warm but laced with curiosity. Her gaze swept over Rei appraisingly, not in a harsh way, but as though she were trying to determine if the stories she'd heard were true. "I've heard quite a bit about you, young lady."
Rei blinked, her cheeks warming slightly. "You have?" she asked, glancing briefly at Obito, who suddenly found great interest in the floor.
"Of course," the older woman continued, stepping forward and gesturing for Rei to sit at the low wooden table in the center of the room. "Obito talks about you often—very fondly, I might add. He says you're one of the few people who can keep up with him during training. I couldn't believe it at first, but seeing you... I think I understand now."
Rei ducked her head slightly, unsure of how to respond. "Thank you," she said softly, her gaze flicking briefly to Obito. "You're very kind."
"Not at all," Obito's grandmother replied, her tone gentle but firm. "A good friend is a rare treasure, and it's clear you've been a good influence on my grandson."
"Grandma!" Obito groaned, his face turning bright red. "You're embarrassing me!"
His grandmother chuckled, patting him fondly on the shoulder. "Oh, hush, Obito. You should be proud to have such friends."
Rei couldn't help but laugh softly at the exchange, the tension in her shoulders easing as the warmth of the moment washed over her. For the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of something she hadn't allowed herself to feel for months: comfort.
The three of them settled at the table as Obito's grandmother brought over steaming bowls of soup and a plate of freshly grilled fish. The conversation was light at first—small talk about training, village life, and Obito's antics at home. Rei listened more than she spoke, though the gentle prodding from Obito's grandmother encouraged her to share bits about herself.
As the evening progressed, Rei found herself relaxing more and more. Obito's energetic enthusiasm filled the room, while his grandmother's steady, grounding presence offered a balance that made Rei feel at ease. It reminded her of what family was supposed to feel like—something she hadn't experienced since Takeshi fell into his coma.
"Rei," Obito's grandmother said suddenly as they were finishing dinner, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "Forgive me if I'm crossing a boundary, but I can see there's a heaviness in you. Something weighing on your soul."
Rei froze, her chopsticks pausing midway to her mouth. She glanced at Obito, whose earlier grin softened into a more subdued expression.
"It's none of my business, of course," the older woman continued gently, "but whatever it is, I hope you know that you're not alone. Sometimes the greatest burden we carry is thinking we have to face the world by ourselves. And from what I see, you have people who care about you—people who would share that burden, if only you let them."
Rei swallowed hard, her grip tightening on her chopsticks. She nodded slowly, not trusting herself to respond with words. The room fell into a brief silence, broken only by the faint clinking of dishes.
"Grandma's right," Obito added quietly, his usual boisterous tone replaced by something softer. "You don't have to do everything alone, Rei."
The vulnerability in his voice startled her, and for a brief moment, she considered telling them everything—the interrogation, the restrictions, the weight of feeling like a stranger in her own village. But the moment passed, and instead, she offered a small, grateful smile.
"Thank you," she said quietly, her voice steady despite the storm brewing in her chest. "That means a lot."
The rest of the evening passed in a haze of warmth and quiet laughter. As Rei left the Uchiha home later that night, the cool air of the compound brushing against her skin, she felt lighter than she had in months. Obito's grandmother's words echoed softly in her mind, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, she didn't have to carry her burdens entirely alone.
She tucked the thought away as she made her way back to her own apartment, the stars overhead casting a faint glow on the stone paths beneath her feet. For once, she allowed herself to linger in the feeling of being cared for, even if it was fleeting.
The memory of Obito's grandmother's kind words and Mikoto's warmth swirled in her mind like a fragile melody. For a brief moment, it quieted the relentless hum of doubt and resentment she carried with her every day.
But by the time Rei reached her apartment door, the warmth she had felt began to waver. The silence of her small space greeted her as it always did—cold and hollow. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click, and placed her herb pouch on the kitchen counter. Her fingers lingered against the worn wood for a moment before she drew her hand back, staring at the empty room. Here, there was no laughter, no warmth of family or friends. Only stillness, broken occasionally by the sound of her own breathing.
Rei sighed, sitting on the edge of her small bed as the weight of the day began settling heavily on her shoulders. She glanced at the small photo of herself and Takeshi tucked into a frame beside her bed. It had been taken years ago, before everything changed. Before the coma, before the whispers, before she had become a name spoken in suspicion instead of admiration. She reached out and brushed her fingers against the edge of the frame, her chest tightening painfully.
"One more day," she whispered to herself, the quiet words a mantra she'd repeated countless nights. "Just get through one more day."
But the next morning brought no reprieve. Rei reported for her D-rank mission briefing as usual, trudging toward the village mission desk with a dull sense of dread. She already knew what to expect: another trivial task meant to keep her busy and out of sight. Chasing stray animals, cleaning gutters, pulling weeds—tasks that barely resembled the responsibilities of a shinobi. All the while, other genin her age were preparing for the Chunin Exams, training for missions that mattered. She passed by a group of younger genin chatting excitedly about the upcoming exams, their enthusiasm like a painful reminder of the opportunities she had been denied.
Rei gritted her teeth and tried to block it out as the mission desk worker handed her the assignment scroll. "Help the Yamada family clean and organize their storage shed," the worker said without looking up.
Rei forced a polite nod before heading out. As she walked, the resentment she had tried so hard to suppress began bubbling up again, burning in the pit of her stomach. She hated this. The missions, the scrutiny, the whispers. She hated how powerless she felt, how her life seemed to be dictated by the decisions of people who didn't know her, who only saw her as a liability or a question mark.
Her mission took most of the morning, and by the time Rei finished hauling the last box into the Yamadas' newly cleaned shed, her muscles ached and her patience was thin. The family thanked her politely, offering her a small meal as thanks, but Rei declined, too drained to engage in conversation. As she walked back through the village streets, she noticed Hiro and Yumi waiting for her near the training ground.
"Rei!" Hiro called, waving her over. His usual boisterous energy was subdued, and there was an unusual seriousness in his expression that immediately put Rei on edge.
She approached them cautiously, her brows furrowing. "What's going on?"
Yumi shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Hiro before speaking. "We... wanted to talk to you about something."
Rei's stomach sank, and she folded her arms across her chest. "Alright," she said slowly. "Let's hear it."
Hiro scratched the back of his neck, his gaze darting to the ground. "We've been thinking... about the Chunin Exams," he began hesitantly. "And, well... we've decided to participate this year."
The words hit Rei like a physical blow, and for a moment, she could only stare at them. She had known this was a possibility—of course she had. But hearing it out loud, knowing her teammates were moving forward without her, felt like the final straw.
"You're... you're going to team up with someone else?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Yumi nodded, her expression filled with guilt. "Yes. Akira-sensei already found someone to fill in for you. It's temporary, just for the exams," she added quickly, as if that softened the blow. "We're not abandoning you, Rei. You're still part of our team. But..."
"But we can't miss this opportunity," Hiro finished, meeting Rei's gaze for the first time. "We know how much this sucks for you. If we could, we'd have you with us. You know that, right?"
Rei's hands clenched at her sides. She didn't know what to say. Logically, she understood their decision. They had every right to move forward, especially with the restrictions placed on her. But the logical part of her mind was drowned out by the wave of bitterness and frustration that surged through her.
"I get it," she said finally, her voice tight. "You'd be stupid to pass this up."
"Rei—" Yumi started, but Rei cut her off.
"It's fine," she said sharply. "Really. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."
Neither Hiro nor Yumi looked convinced, but they nodded reluctantly. After a brief, awkward silence, Yumi stepped forward and placed a hand on Rei's arm.
"We'll still train together after the exams," she said softly. "We'll still be a team."
Rei forced a small, hollow smile. "Sure," she replied, though she wasn't sure she believed it.
As her teammates walked away, talking quietly to each other, Rei stood alone in the training ground, staring at the empty space where they had just been. A sharp, painful lump formed in her throat, and she clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. Everything felt like it was slipping further and further out of her control, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
By the time she returned to Akira for their afternoon check-in, her emotions felt like a tightly coiled wire, ready to snap at any moment. Akira stood under the shade of a tree, his usual calm expression betraying a hint of concern as he watched her approach.
"Rei," he greeted simply, his tone gentle but firm. "I heard Hiro and Yumi spoke to you."
Rei nodded curtly, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah. They're doing the exams. I get it."
Akira studied her for a long moment. "If you need anything," he said quietly, his voice softer than usual, "you can come to me. Or... if you feel like you need guidance beyond what I can offer, you can always speak with Orochimaru-sama."
Rei's breath hitched, her eyes snapping up to meet his. The mention of Orochimaru sent a jolt of unease through her, mingled with a whisper of temptation. She didn't respond, and Akira didn't press her. He simply nodded before dismissing her, leaving Rei standing alone once again.
The weight of it all—Hiro and Yumi moving on, the mention of Orochimaru, and the suffocating restrictions—settled heavily on her shoulders as she walked back through the village streets. She had never felt more trapped, and no matter which way she turned, it seemed like every path led to a dead end.
As the evening stretched on, the lighthearted warmth of the previous night faded into the background, replaced by an aching hollowness that threatened to consume her. For all the care and kindness she'd felt, nothing could shake the growing sense of isolation that seemed to define her life now.
The village had offered her moments of humanity, but it wasn't enough to undo the months of isolation, the restrictions shackling her potential, or the bitter realization that her teammates were moving forward without her. Every kindness felt fleeting, overshadowed by the suffocating reality of her situation.
Rei found herself walking aimlessly through the streets of Konoha, her feet carrying her without purpose or direction. The lively chatter of the villagers and the distant laughter of children playing barely registered against the storm of emotions swirling in her mind. She passed shinobi her age sparring in training fields, their faces lit with determination and excitement, undoubtedly preparing for the upcoming Chunin Exams. That sharp reminder caused her to look away quickly, her jaw tightening as she fought the wave of bitterness rising to the surface.
Her path twisted through familiar streets until she reached one of the quieter corners of the village—a place she often retreated to when the weight of her thoughts became too much. She stopped at a small bench near a shaded garden, its soft, floral aroma offering a momentary reprieve from the turmoil within her. Rei sat heavily, her hands resting on her knees as she stared ahead blankly. She couldn't escape the feeling of stagnation, of the world moving on without her while she remained frozen in place.
Her thoughts darkened further as she replayed her recent conversation with Hiro and Yumi in her mind. The disappointment in their voices, the reluctance they'd shown at breaking the news to her, all rang hollow now. She couldn't be angry with them—they deserved to move forward, to grow—but it didn't lessen the sting of being left behind.
Rei leaned back against the bench, staring up at the sky above the garden. The faint rustle of leaves overhead should've been soothing, but even that felt distant. Her sense of alienation had grown so sharp that it felt like a knife carving into her chest. For the first time in months, tears welled up in her eyes unbidden, and she didn't bother to blink them away.
Letting herself feel the rawness of her emotions, no matter how hopeless it was, was the only relief she could find.
Almost as though on cue, the quiet garden was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. Rei quickly sat up, swiping at her eyes before whoever it was could see her weakness. She didn't expect company here—this place was her sanctuary, a space where she could hide from everything. But when Akira's calm voice greeted her from the path, her heart sank.
"Rei," Akira called gently, his footsteps slowing as he walked toward the bench.
Rei turned slowly to face him, her expression carefully neutral despite the lingering redness in her eyes. "Sensei," she greeted, her voice steady.
Akira sat beside her without asking, his usual calm air making him the only person she could tolerate right now. He didn't speak immediately, letting the quiet stretch between them for a moment before finally addressing her.
"The Hokage has summoned you," he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Rei stiffened, staring ahead as her mind immediately raced with the implications. Monthly check-ins were routine, but they were also her least favorite moments. The oppressive weight of constant surveillance, the assessing eyes of Danzo and the elders, the questions that always felt like accusations—they were a reminder of everything she hated about her situation.
"Of course," Rei replied, her tone clipped. There was no point in arguing. Akira didn't say anything further, but as he stood and prepared to leave, his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than usual.
"Rei," he added firmly, "remember, you don't have to carry everything on your own. If you ever need guidance, you can come to me... or even Orochimaru-sama."
Rei's breath hitched at the mention of Orochimaru, her eyes snapping up to meet Akira's. The name sent a ripple of unease through her, mingled with temptation. She didn't respond, and Akira didn't press her. He simply nodded before walking away, leaving her to prepare herself for the summons.
As Rei stood and started heading toward the Hokage's office, her emotions churned. The offer of Orochimaru's guidance lingered in her mind, not as a comfort but as a question that demanded an answer she wasn't ready to give.
As Rei stood and started heading toward the Hokage's office, her emotions churned. The offer of Orochimaru's guidance lingered in her mind, not as a comfort but as a question that demanded an answer she wasn't ready to give. She shook her head, trying to push it aside, but her thoughts felt tangled, tightly wound around the frustrations and fears that seemed to define her life lately. With each step she took toward the towering administrative building, the weight in her chest grew heavier.
When Rei stepped into the Hokage's office, she immediately felt the familiar tension that the space always seemed to carry. The air was thick with authority, the kind that made her feel small in a way she hated. Behind his desk, Sarutobi Hiruzen greeted her with his usual calm demeanor, though there was a sharpness in his eyes that suggested something more deliberate about this meeting.
"Rei," the Hokage said, gesturing for her to take a seat. His quiet authority was steadying, but Rei's guard was already up. She sat stiffly, her back straight and her hands folded tightly on her lap.
"Thank you for coming," Hiruzen began, his voice warm, though Rei could sense the underlying weight of the conversation to come. "I've been reviewing your progress in your missions and your overall conduct. Both have been commendable considering the circumstances."
Rei's jaw tensed slightly as she nodded, unsure where this was going. Commendable wasn't enough to erase the restrictions and mistrust that hung over her like a cloud.
The Hokage leaned forward slightly, interlacing his fingers as he continued. "Rei, I understand the burden you've been carrying, not just as a shinobi under scrutiny but also as a sister providing for your family."
At this, Rei's heart skipped a beat, her posture stiffening further. Takeshi. The thought of her comatose brother alone in the hospital always clawed at her, especially when it came to her inability to do more for him. She said nothing, waiting for the Hokage to make his point.
"I know the D-rank missions," Hiruzen said carefully, "have not been sufficient in meeting your financial needs. I have also heard from the hospital's administration that your brother's bills are becoming increasingly difficult to manage."
Rei's throat tightened, and she had to look away for a moment, unable to suppress the wave of frustration that rose within her. She hated that her personal life was yet another thing constantly being monitored, another part of her that wasn't entirely her own.
The Hokage's tone softened. "With that in mind, I'd like to offer you an opportunity. Beginning next week, you would be permitted to join a team on C-rank missions. These missions would provide better pay and more meaningful work, while still allowing us to ensure your progress and conduct."
Rei blinked, startled at the offer. For a moment, hope flickered in her chest. C-rank missions. Actual shinobi work. The chance to do something that mattered, something that might remind her of why she had wanted to be a ninja in the first place. But then the Hokage's next words shattered that fragile hope.
"You would be placed under the leadership of Kakashi Hatake."
Rei's entire body tensed. Her nails dug into the fabric of her pants as the storm of emotions she had been holding back broke through. Kakashi. It was always Kakashi. No matter how far she tried to distance herself from him, no matter how determined she was to keep him out of her life, he always found a way back in.
"Hokage-sama," she began, her voice tight but controlled, "why him? Surely there are other teams I can join."
Hiruzen's gaze remained calm but firm, as though he had anticipated this reaction. "Kakashi is one of our most capable young shinobi. He has proven himself to be reliable, skilled, and level-headed. Working under him would provide you with the guidance and structure necessary for success."
Rei almost laughed bitterly at the irony of those words. Reliable. Level-headed. She supposed that was true when it came to missions—but on a personal level, Kakashi was anything but. He was the reason the elders had begun suspecting her in the first place, his cold and unflinching mission report delivering the details of their disastrous mission without so much as a thought of how it would affect her afterward.
"Permission to speak freely, Hokage-sama?" Rei said, her voice sharp despite her attempt to remain respectful.
Hiruzen nodded.
"I don't want to work with him." Her words came out bluntly, nearly cutting through the air. "I'll accept the C-rank missions and any terms you set, but I don't want him as my leader."
The Hokage sighed, his expression tinged with understanding. "Rei, I know your history with Kakashi is... complicated. But this decision is not meant as a punishment. On the contrary, I believe it will allow you both the chance to resolve whatever differences may remain. Kakashi is a capable leader, and I trust that, in time, you will come to see that."
Resolve differences? Rei scoffed inwardly. How could she resolve anything with someone who had refused to acknowledge her existence for months? She had gone out of her way to avoid him, to remove him from her life entirely, yet here the Hokage was, forcing him back into her orbit.
Rei clenched her fists tighter, her knuckles whitening. "I'll do as you ask," she said finally, though her tone was icy. "But I'm only doing this because I need the missions. Nothing more."
The Hokage regarded her quietly for a moment before nodding. "Very well. The details will be sent to you before the first mission. Until then, continue with your D-rank assignments."
Rei stood, bowing curtly before leaving the office. The door closed behind her with a quiet click, but the anger inside her burned like a roaring fire. She stormed down the hallway, her chest tight and her thoughts racing. No matter how much she tried to escape Kakashi, it was as if he were some inescapable force, drawn back into her life at every turn to snuff out the progress she tried so desperately to make.
The irony wasn't lost on her. Kakashi, who had never cared about her outside of their shared missions, now being her leader again. The one person who had been instrumental in destabilizing her standing within the village was being forced into her life as a mentor. She wanted to scream at the injustice of it all, but instead, she grit her teeth and swallowed her frustration. She didn't have the luxury of complaints—not when Takeshi's hospital bills loomed over her like a sword ready to fall.
As Rei stepped outside into the sunlight, she paused to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. It barely worked. The path ahead felt narrower than ever, as though her life were being dictated by forces she couldn't control. And Kakashi was just another reminder of that suffocating truth.
With her jaw set, Rei moved forward, her steps quick and deliberate. If this was the hand she had been dealt, she would play it—but not because she wanted to. Because she had to.
The streets of Konoha blurred around her as she navigated through the crowded market district, her mind racing with the weight of the Hokage's offer. C-rank missions under Kakashi's leadership were a double-edged sword, offering better pay and more meaningful work, yet chaining her to the one person she had tried so hard to keep out of her life. She didn't know how to feel about it—part of her was relieved that she might finally be able to provide for Takeshi's medical bills more efficiently, but another part of her was terrified of letting Kakashi back into her orbit.
Rei didn't notice how much time had passed until she found herself standing in front of a familiar dango shop near the market's edge. The sweet aroma of freshly made dango drifted out onto the street, mingling with the savory smells of the nearby food stalls. It was a comforting smell, one that reminded her of simpler times before everything became so complicated. For a moment, she considered stepping in, buying a few pieces just to soothe her nerves with a familiar taste. But as she pushed open the door, her hesitation dissipated.
Inside, the shop was busier than she expected, with families and groups of shinobi laughing and chatting over steaming bowls of dango. Rei's eyes scanned the room, her gaze settling on a familiar, if slightly awkward, pair standing by the counter: Anko and Rin.
Anko's exuberant smile captured her attention first, followed by Rin's more subdued expression as she caught Rei's eye. The tension between them was palpable, though Rei wasn't sure what to make of it. She hadn't spoken to Rin for a while, not since they'd grown more distant over the months. It was time they talked about the elephant in the room.
As Rei approached them, Anko's eyes lit up. "Rei! What're you doing here? Come on, don't just stand there!" Anko's arm snaked out, pulling Rei into their conversation with her usual boundless energy.
Rin smiled slightly but looked away, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. Rei sensed the unease between them, something that had been building over time and needed to be addressed.
Anko, seemingly oblivious to the strain, continued to chat excitedly about recent events, but when she stepped away to place their order, the atmosphere shifted instantly.
"Rin," Rei said softly, her voice carrying a mix of gentle urgency and frustration, "can we talk? Alone."
Rin's eyes flickered in surprise before she nodded quietly. Together, they slipped away to a quieter corner of the shop, leaving Anko to manage the transaction. The moment of truth was finally here.
In this quieter space, away from the bustling atmosphere of the shop, Rei took a deep breath and faced Rin directly. "What's going on between us, Rin? Ever since we last spoke, things have been awkward."
Rin's eyes dropped as she toyed with the hem of her sleeve, her voice barely audible when she finally spoke. "It's just... I've been feeling really jealous lately," she admitted, almost ashamed of the words as they left her lips.
Rei frowned, taken aback. "Jealous?" she echoed, her tone careful but confused. Her mind raced, searching for the source of such an admission, but before she could ask, Rin hesitantly continued.
"Of you," Rin said, her voice trembling slightly as she glanced up at Rei. "Kakashi... he's always talking about you. Not a lot, but enough that I notice it. And with everything that's happened lately, I started to wonder if there was..." Rin trailed off, biting her lip before forcing out the rest. "If there was something going on between you two."
Rei blinked, startled by the accusation—if it could even be called that. For a moment, she was too surprised to respond, her thoughts tripping over themselves as she tried to make sense of Rin's words. Kakashi? Talking about her? The idea was absurd, almost laughable, given their recent history. But looking at Rin now, her insecurities clearly laid bare, Rei's own frustration softened into something more compassionate.
"Rin..." Rei began gently, her voice steady but firm, "there's nothing between Kakashi and me. Nothing. We haven't spoken in months, not since..." She trailed off, unwilling to dredge up painful memories. "Whatever you're thinking, whatever you're imagining—it isn't true. Kakashi doesn't care about me like that. He doesn't care about me much at all."
Rin hesitated, her brows knitting as she studied Rei's face for any hint of dishonesty. "But then why does he talk about you?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with doubt. "Why does he seem so focused on you?"
Rei sighed, glancing away for a moment before turning back to Rin. "Maybe he's just fulfilling his duties—as a teammate, as a shinobi, as someone following the rules. I don't know. But trust me, there's nothing deeper than that. Kakashi and I haven't been on good terms for a long time."
Rin bit her lip again, her gaze dropping to the table between them. "I don't know why I let myself think that," she murmured. "It's just... With your team moving on without you, and now hearing this news about you working under Kakashi, I couldn't help but feel like I was being left behind. Like... like maybe he was choosing you over me."
Rei's heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in Rin's voice. She hadn't realized just how deeply Rin had been struggling with insecurities of her own. Carefully, Rei reached out and placed a hand on Rin's shoulder. "You're misunderstanding everything," Rei said softly, her tone kind but insistent. "He's not choosing me, Rin. There's nothing to choose. And as far as my team goes—they're not moving on without me because they want to. They're moving on because the restrictions placed on me forced them to."
Rin's conflicted expression softened slightly as Rei's words sank in. The tension between them began to loosen, giving way to a more fragile sense of understanding. "I'm sorry," Rin said after a moment, her voice trembling faintly. "I shouldn't have let it get to me. I shouldn't have let those thoughts... ruin our friendship."
Rei shook her head gently, her grip on Rin's shoulder steady. "It's okay, Rin. Really. I get it. We've both been dealing with a lot lately—probably more than we even realized. But you're my friend, and I don't want this to get between us. Ever."
Rin's eyes flickered with relief as she nodded, her lips curving into a small, grateful smile. "I don't either. I'm sorry, Rei."
"For what it's worth," Rei added, a hint of playfulness creeping into her tone, "Kakashi wouldn't know how to care about someone if it hit him over the head. And if he ever did, you'd be the first to know. Definitely not me."
Rin laughed softly, the sound breaking the last remnants of tension between them. "You're probably right," she said with a small shake of her head. "Sometimes I wonder what's going on in his head."
Before their conversation could continue, Anko's cheerful voice rang out, breaking the fragile bubble of quiet between them. "Hey, what's going on over here?" she asked, sliding two trays of dango onto the table. Her grin was wide and mischievous as she eyed them both. "Did you two just have a heart-to-heart while I was slaving away over your sugar cravings?"
Rin flushed slightly as Rei exchanged a glance with her, both girls smiling faintly as they fell into a shared, unspoken understanding.
"Don't worry, Anko," Rei said, her voice lighter than it had been all day. "Everything's fine now."
"Good," Anko said with exaggerated satisfaction, plopping down beside them with her own tray of dango. "Because you two have both been way too serious lately, and I'm officially declaring tonight a 'no drama' zone. Got it?"
Rei smiled genuinely this time, glancing at Rin as the three of them shared an easy moment of laughter. For the first time in what felt like weeks, the weight pressing down on her eased slightly, leaving her with a fragile but hopeful sense of peace.