The command tent was strangely quiet when I pushed past the heavy flaps, the usual storm of voices and shuffling papers reduced to a tense murmur. Orochimaru stood at the center table, pale fingers splayed over a worn map, golden eyes glinting faintly in the lantern light. He did not look up immediately, but I could tell he knew I was there.
"You're late," he said smoothly, still studying the map like I was not worth glancing at.
I crossed my arms and arched my brow. "I came at sunrise, Orochimaru-sama. Just because you've been up all night doesn't mean the rest of us stopped needing sleep."
That earned me a quiet chuckle, dry and sharp. "Fair enough." He tapped a point on the map where a crimson mark sat along the southern coast. "We've located Pakura."
I stepped closer, scanning the map. "Umiwake," I murmured. "That's pretty far south and practically kissing the Chigiri Sea."
"She's traveling under light guard," he said, finally glancing up at me. "Likely recovering after… Danzo's untimely demise." His gaze lingered deliberately, watching for a reaction.
I gave him nothing. "Not my fault the Sand's best kunoichi can finish what she starts," I said, letting my tone stay casual.
The faint curve of his lips suggested amusement, but it did not last long. "Since reaching out to her was your idea, this mission is yours."
I blinked, straightening slightly. "You want me to go alone?"
"There aren't enough available jonin to spare," he replied with a small shrug, as though that settled it. "You can take your team if you want. Otherwise, you'll be relying on your clones and your luck."
I hesitated, just for a breath. Asuma had been itching for something beyond drills and corpse duty, just like Guy. Kurenai had been wrapping herself up in work inside the medical tent as if keeping busy would maintain the wall between us. While they would not be able to help much, it would still be good for the team to get out of camp.
"I'll bring my team," I decided finally. "Better to keep them where I can watch them."
Orochimaru studied me, his expression unreadable, but I had known him too long not to recognize the flicker of curiosity beneath his aloofness. "Interesting choice," he murmured, stepping back from the table. "Prepare them well, Akari. Pakura represents an opportunity, and one we cannot afford to mishandle."
I smiled faintly, letting just a hint of mockery bleed into my voice. "Careful's my middle name."
His golden eyes gleamed, sharp and knowing. "I sincerely doubt that."
I just chuckled and raised my hand as a goodbye then left the command center. Duy was easy to spot across the training field as he led another of his infamous "flames of youth" circuits. Half the genin looked like they would keel over any second, legs trembling as they tried to keep up. Guy mirrored every one of Duy's movements with unrelenting enthusiasm, barking encouragements louder than the actual instructor.
At the very back, Asuma trailed behind the group, hands shoved lazily into his pockets between half-hearted knee lifts. He caught my eye and scowled when I raised an eyebrow.
"Pick up your knees, Asuma," I called.
He groaned loud enough for everyone to hear but still obeyed. I could just make out his muttered complaint about "tyrannical instructors." I let it slide with a smirk.
When Duy noticed me, his face lit up like a festival lantern. "Akari-sama!" he bellowed, snapping into a salute mid-count. "Do you require our flames of youth for a mission of unimaginable peril?!"
Guy gasped audibly, spinning toward me. "Mission?! Akari-sensei, is it true? Please tell us it's true!"
"Wrap it up," I said, suppressing a smile. "We've got a mission."
The genin in the background sagged in relief as my team followed. Asuma walked with renewed purpose, though I caught him smirking smugly back at the struggling trainees. Guy practically bounced with each step, while Duy radiated enthusiasm like it was his life's calling.
By the time we reached our tent, I had already decided how to play this. Inside, Kurenai sat cross-legged, copying a set of Yuri's notes, her focus sharp as ever. Her gaze flicked up as we entered, tracking each of us like she was trying to read the whole story from our faces alone.
I waited until the flap closed behind us before speaking. "Pack your gear. We leave within the hour."
Guy whooped so loudly I thought he would shake the tent apart. Duy clapped his hands together and declared something about "youthful journeys." Asuma's grin stretched ear to ear like a kid promised candy.
Kurenai, though, did not move right away. She set her journal down slowly with her red eyes fixed on me. "What kind of mission?"
I offered a faint, deliberately noncommittal smile. "One worth preparing for."
It was not an answer, and she knew it, but no one pressed me further... at least, not yet. I ducked out of our tent while they started packing and made my way towards the medical tent. It was warmer than I expected, heavy with the mingling scents of antiseptic herbs, sweat, and the faint copper tang of dried blood. The soft rustle of cloth bandages, murmured orders, and the occasional groan of a patient blended into a steady hum; a reminder that even when the front line stayed quiet, the war never truly stopped.
I spotted Yuri at the center of it all, commanding a pair of chunin medics with the authority of a battlefield general. She had a strip of blood smeared across her cheek and a tray of syringes balanced in one hand like it was nothing. When she caught sight of me, she did not even pause her instructions. She just arched a brow in my direction like a silent accusation.
"Well," she said after dismissing her assistants, wiping her hands clean on a towel. "If it isn't our elusive commander. Are you planning to drop by more than once a week, or are you just here to remind me I work for you?"
I stopped in front of her, crossing my arms, and retorted with a smirk, "You work with me. Big difference."
She gave a humorless snort. "Right, and I suppose this isn't you abandoning us with a mountain of logistics and a hundred people still too broken to walk?"
"I'm not abandoning anyone," I said, keeping my tone patient, or at least trying to. "I've got a direct assignment from Orochimaru."
That got her attention. Her sharp gaze flicked over my face, like she was trying to read the mission right out of my skin. "Ah, so, you're trading one kind of nightmare for another." She sighed dramatically. "Fine. Let me guess... you're also leaving me in charge of coordinating the wounded heading back to Konoha?"
I offered a small, guilty smile. "You're the only one I trust to handle it right."
Her eyes narrowed. "Translation: you planned this just to dodge paperwork."
"Exactly."
Yuri chuckled and shoved a crate of bandages toward one of her medics. "You know, for someone holding the camp together, you're surprisingly slippery."
"I learned from the best. Tsunade-sama always knew how avoid the worst duties."
That earned me a rare, genuine smile. Then her expression shifted, softening just slightly. "Be careful out there, Akari. You hold more pieces of this place together than anyone else realizes. If something happens to you..." She hesitated, like finishing the thought would make it real. "Just… don't."
"I'll do my best. This mission shouldn't be too dangerous since I'm dragging my genin along," I replied.
Yuri did not look convinced, but she let it drop with a sigh, "Go on, then. I'll keep the camp breathing while you're off being the hero."
I left the tent with her words lingering in the air behind me. It was still early in the day, so the camp was buzzing with activity as I walked back to my tent. Inside, my team was packed and ready, their expressions shifting the moment I stepped through the flap. Guy and Duy looked eager as always; Kurenai's calm gaze betrayed nothing, but I could see the questions hiding behind it. Asuma just slouched against his pack, trying too hard to look unexcited.
Four pairs of eyes fixed on me, waiting. I smirked and walked over to my gear without a word. "Alright," I said, slinging my pack over my shoulders and adjusted the straps before I finished, "Let's move out."
For hours, we raced south at the kind of pace that would have broken most genin squads inside of an hour. But mine? They were stubborn enough to match me step for step.
Guy practically vibrated with energy at my side, calling encouragements to the others as though sheer volume could push them forward. Duy, calm as ever, set his jaw and ran with perfect, steady form; a pillar no one could match. Even Asuma, despite dragging his heels, kept moving. His shoulders slouched and his breath was ragged, but he stayed on his feet. He always did when pride was at stake.
What impressed me most was Kurenai. Her chakra control was sharp enough now that she could reinforce her muscles with a crude form of my Yang Chakra Enhanced Strength technique. It still was not polished to a level close to mine, but it was enough to carry her weight across the miles without faltering. The gleam of sweat on her brow told me the price she was paying, but she did not complain.
By the time I called a halt, the sun was bleeding into the horizon, washing the scrublands and jagged rocks in crimson and gold. We chose a sheltered ridge, wind-carved into a shallow crescent, that gave us cover from three sides. Perfect for a camp.
With a couple of hand signs, I summoned four of my clones and gave them all tasks. One gathered dry brush for firewood while another staked out perimeter seals and basic alarm traps. Two more rushed out in different directions to hunt. I pulled out a storage scroll and retrieved some cooking utensils and two tents. Passing off the tools to Duy, I started setting up the tents while the others tried to recover from the grueling day.
The boys sprawled out in the dirt with exhausted groans. Guy was still smiling, even if his hands trembled with strain. Asuma just lay flat on his back, one arm draped dramatically over his eyes. Kurenai did not collapse, but rather, sat quietly on a flat rock, rolling out her shoulders while she let her chakra settle. Her control had improved enough to keep her body from tearing itself apart after using that enhancement for so long, but I made a note to have someone check her over once we returned to camp.
By the time the clones returned, the fire was already crackling. They passed off four rabbits that were already skinned and cleaned to Duy, who skewered them over the flames and sprinkled seasons that he apparently brought with him. Rations filled the gaps, but the smell was enough to rouse even Asuma from his sulking heap.
Dinner drew the team together again, laughter echoing faintly under the stars. Guy and Asuma pestered me with theories about our "top-secret mission," each guess more absurd than the last... assassinations, buried treasure, pirate conspiracies. Duy even chuckled once or twice, which was rarer than gold in wartime.
I let them speculate, only feeding the fire with vague smiles. It was better to let them laugh. It was better to let them feel like a squad of kids sharing stories by firelight than soldiers carrying the weight of a war, if only for a couple of days.
But while the others laughed, Kurenai stayed a little apart, her gaze lingering on the flames more than on me. She did not ask questions, and the few laughs that she had seemed forced. When our eyes did meet, she would look away quickly with the shadow of a creased brow. It was easy to tell that something was troubling her, but... as much as I wanted to ask, I never did; perhaps the silence was easier.
The afternoon of the next day, as we climbed the last rise along the coastal road, the air changed. The dry winds of the Wind Country had given way to the sharp sting of salt, clinging to my skin and turning sweat into grit. I caught the first glimpse of Umiwake sprawled against the sea. Sun-bleached stone buildings clustered like barnacles around long wooden piers that stretched into the Chigiri Sea. There were ships docked with sails patched but still proud, and gulls circled overhead in a constant racket.
To the locals, this place was wealth, but I could see the flaws. The colors had been leached out by too many storms, and the air reeked of brine, tar, and drying fish. A jewel of a city, maybe, but it was one that had lost its polish long ago.
Asuma gave a low whistle beside me. "This is what passes for luxury? Tch." His hand twitched toward his cigarette pouch before he caught my eye. He stuffed it back into his vest without a word.
Guy, of course, was grinning wide enough to split his face. "But look at that sand! Perfect terrain for endurance training. Running along the shoreline will double our stamina!" He struck a pose right in the middle of the road, ignoring the way a pair of dockworkers gawked at him.
"Exactly!" Duy clapped him on the shoulder, chest swelling as he inhaled the sea breeze. "Salt air like this cleans the lungs! Tomorrow morning, we'll run ten laps along the beach... no, fifteen. You'll thank me when you're older!"
Kurenai pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering, "You two are incorrigible."
I bit back a laugh, though the corners of my lips twitched. Their antics were familiar, comforting even, but I did not allow myself to linger in it. My eyes stayed sharp, sweeping the crowd as we crossed into the city proper. Exits, guards, the way people skirted just a little too wide around us. Despite hiding our headband early this morning, I could not help but wonder if people could tell what we were.
I led them to an inn tucked away from the main square, its beams weathered but still standing straight. Inside, the keeper practically bent in half at the sight of our travel papers. A small stack of coins secured what I needed.
"Two rooms," I said. "The boys in one, Kurenai with me."
Asuma opened his mouth, then thought better of it when I raised a brow. Guy only nodded enthusiastically.
"Perfect!" Duy said with a warm smile. "Thank you, Akari-sama. Once we settle, I'll check the markets for fresh fish, seaweed broth, and of course, steamed vegetables. Nothing restores weary bodies like balanced nutrition." He produced an apron from somewhere in his pack and slung it over his shoulder as naturally as drawing a kunai.
Asuma groaned. "Great. More greens. I was hoping for tavern food."
"Vegetables build strength, Asuma!" Guy flexed his arm like living proof. "Father's regimen is unbeatable!"
Kurenai glanced at me, dry amusement in her eyes. "Maybe because he never stops moving long enough to care what he's eating."
I shook my head, a laugh slipping out before I could stop it. They were loud, exhausting, and strange, but somewhere along the way, they had become something like a family, whether I admitted it aloud or not.
The innkeeper slid me two keys, and I led us upstairs. The wooden floors creaked, the hall smelled faintly of mildew, but it would serve. As I unlocked our door, I let the others' chatter fade into the background. I walked through the room to the window, and my attention lingered on the city below. There were bustling market stalls, sailors shouting from the piers, and common people moving about their day.
Kurenai closed the door behind us, her presence filling the small inn room before she even spoke. I gestured toward the two narrow beds pushed against opposite walls.
"Pick whichever one you want," I said, crossing to the basin and splashing my face with cold water. The salt and dust stung as it ran down my cheeks, but it woke me enough to push aside the fatigue of the road.
When I looked up, Kurenai was still standing near the door, arms crossed. She had not chosen a bed. The silence stretched between us, taut as wire.
It was not just the war pressing on us, or the weight of my leadership. It was everything we did not say. The way she had looked at me after my last mission, furious, relieved, hurt, all tangled into one. The way her eyes sometimes lingered on me too long, though she never spoke a word. The way I wanted to bridge the distance and could not.
I dried my face slowly, letting the cloth hide my own expression. Just as the tension reached its breaking point, a thunderous bang rattled the door.
"Asuma," I muttered.
"Onee-chan!" His voice carried through the wood like an obnoxious echo. "Come on, let's go explore! We're wasting daylight... well, nightlight!"
I closed my eyes, inhaled, then opened the door to find him grinning like a fool in the hallway. Guy and Duy loomed just behind him, both wearing the same eager expression, as if the city's night market had been built specifically for their entertainment.
"Fine," I said, and their cheer nearly deafened me. "But we stay together."
The streets near the docks were already alive when we stepped out. Lanterns swayed overhead, their orange glow painting the crowd in warmth. Music spilled from a pair of shamisen players set up near the pier, mixing with the hiss of oil and the smoky scent of fish grilling over open flames. Merchants hawked their wares whether they were cloth, trinkets, weapons, shouting prices over the din of sailors and townsfolk alike.
My team fell easily into step. Asuma drifting toward food stalls, Guy and Duy gawking at everything with equal delight, and Kurenai silent at my side.
I guided us to a stall displaying leather bracers, carved trinkets, and simple jewelry. "These will do for Guy and Duy," I said, setting aside a matching pair of sturdy bracers. As I kept searching the racks, I spotted a lighter with a water dragon motif on it and showed it to Kurenai, asking, "Do you think Asuma would like it?"
Kurenai glanced at the lighter then shrugged and returned her attention to the merchant's wares.
"You should pick something for yourself," I remarked, passing the lighter to merchant for me to purchase.
She shook her head lightly. "I don't need anything."
Difficult, as always. I knew better than to press, so I turned back to the display. A necklace caught my eye. It had a silver chain and a pendant shaped like a koi fish circling a plum blossom. The koi represented resilience while the blossom stood for grace. It suited her, even if she would never admit it.
I lifted it, the metal catching the lamplight... and that was when I felt it, or rather her. There was a subtle ripple of another presence, chakra so warm that it practically stung. My gaze flicked sideways, and there she was, Pakura of the Scorch Release, weaving through the crowd with her student trailing behind her.
My heart quickened because I could not believe how lucky I had gotten, but my hand remained steady. As I shifted closer to Kurenai, choosing the necklace, my other hand retrieved a marked shuriken that had a folded note around it then slid it into Pakura's pocket in the same smooth motion as she passed by. She did not falter or glance my way; she just continued walking as if nothing had happened.
I turned back to Kurenai, holding out the necklace. "This one," I said quietly, placing the chain into her hand.
Her eyes widened, a faint blush warming her cheeks. She closed her fingers over the pendant, the smallest flicker of surprise breaking her composure.
I paid the merchant, sliding the coins across the counter, while Pakura disappeared into the crowd.
The koi and blossom gleamed against Kurenai's skin when she finally looped the chain around her neck. She did not say a word, but she did not need to; I could see the happiness in her eyes.
By the time I finished at the merchant's stand, the others came back, all grinning like fools with skewers of grilled fish in their hands. Asuma already had sauce down the front of his vest, Guy was talking around a mouthful about the "training benefits" of lifting baskets of seafood, and Duy wore his apron proudly tied on, like he had found a kitchen mid-market. Not one of them noticed the faint color still lingering on Kurenai's cheeks.
We made our way back through the lantern-lit streets, the chatter and noise of the market fading behind us. When we reached the inn, I stopped them just outside our rooms.
"Before you turn in," I said, pulling the bundles from my pouch, "I have something for each of you."
Their eyes widened in unison.
I handed the first pair of bracers to Guy and Duy. "These should hold up through whatever abuse you put them through."
Guy's eyes shimmered as if I'd given him a sacred treasure. He slipped them on immediately and threw a fist into the air. "Yosh! With these, my fists will strike with the spirit of youth doubled!"
Duy laughed warmly, strapping on his own pair. "Marvelous craftsmanship! Practical, durable, ah, and stylish too. You have my gratitude, Akari-sama." He flexed his arms in perfect synchronization with his son, both of them striking nearly identical poses.
Asuma scoffed, but I caught the way he leaned forward expectantly. I held out the lighter. "For you. Try not to lose it."
He turned it over in his palm, flicked it open and shut a few times, and though he tried to smother it, a grin slipped through. "Hn. Guess it beats fumbling with matches. Thanks, Onee-chan."
I gave a small nod. My fingers lingered just a heartbeat longer on each gift as I passed them over. With a subtle flare of chakra, I placed my Flying Thunder God mark onto the surface before it vanished from sight. The boys were too busy admiring their treasures to notice. Only Kurenai's sharp eyes caught the glimmer. They trailed into their room with laughter and thanks, still bantering about who got the better gift.
Inside our room, with the door shut behind us, Kurenai finally spoke. "That fuinjutsu you placed on their gifts. What was it?"
I held out my hand. "Give me the necklace."
She unclasped it and dropped the silver chain into my palm. I traced the back of the pendant with a brush of chakra, the invisible formula flaring and vanishing. I pressed it back into her hand.
"It's the Flying Thunder God seal," I said quietly. "I'm no Minato, but it means if you, or any of them, are in danger, I can reach your side instantly. And, if you channel chakra into it, you can call me to you."
Kurenai studied the pendant for a long moment before refastening it around her neck. "Then I understand the importance of it."
Her voice was even, and her expression unreadable. She turned her back to me as she lay down, the wall between us as strong as ever. I watched her in the lantern's fading glow before snuffing it out. Darkness filled the room, but her silence weighed heavier than the shadows.