I followed Tsume through the gate and into the Inuzuka compound.
The area was expansive, dotted with houses that featured open courtyards and laundry lines. Children darted between the homes, and the aroma of cooked meat wafted past as I walked by one of the houses. The paths weren't perfectly straight; they curved around trees and low stone markers, worn smooth by years of feet and paws. It felt surprisingly domestic, despite being a shinobi clan.
As we made our way, we passed several people. Most were civilians by shinobi standards, their chakra signatures were small and didn't burn like the blazing bonfires I was accustomed to on the battlefield. Yet, there was something unmistakably Inuzuka about them: their posture, their eyes with distinctive markings, and the way they moved as if always aware of their surroundings.
A few glanced our way with curiosity, noticing me walking alongside Tsume. She didn't care and didn't slow down.
She led me to a larger house set farther into the compound. Its wooden exterior had wide eaves and was sturdy without much decoration, the kind of place built to last generations. Without breaking stride, she slipped her sandals off at the threshold.
I followed suit, neatly placing mine beside the door before stepping inside.
The interior was warm. Tatami mats lined the floor, clean and well-kept. Sunlight filtered through paper screens, casting soft patterns across the room. There was a faint scent of incense layered beneath something muskier.
Kuromaru padded ahead of us, his nails scraping softly against the mats, then veered off down a side corridor without a backward glance.
Tsume motioned me into a sitting room, sliding the door open before dropping onto the floor with none of the predatory grace she displayed in combat. She stretched her arms over her head, cracking her back loudly as she relaxed.
"Make yourself comfortable," she said. "You look quite pale. Sit down," she pointed at the cushion on the floor.
I didn't argue. I lowered myself across from her, legs folding awkwardly. My body still felt tight, sore in places I hadn't even registered yet. The bandages under my clothes tugged when I moved.
Tsume glanced at me and then toward the hallway. "Sume-san, can we get some food and tea?"
A moment later, a woman in a kimono appeared at the doorway, sliding the door open with the easy confidence of someone who had lived around shinobi her whole life.
"And call Riku," Tsume added. "Tell him to get his ass in here."
The woman nodded once, smiled at Tsume, and then nodded at me before disappearing without a word.
Tsume leaned back on her hands, studying me again. Up close, the relief in her eyes was harder to hide,
yet I could see her exhaustion beneath it.
"You scared the hell out of us," she said, not unkindly. "Shigure brought you into the temporary camp as we were retreating. You didn't do so well."
"I didn't plan on it," I replied quietly.
She snorted. "None of us ever do."
The maid returned quickly with a low tray laden with bowls of rice, grilled fish, pickled vegetables, steaming miso, and a pot of tea. She set everything down between us and bowed before leaving again.
I stared at the food for a moment longer than necessary, then glanced at her, waiting for her to start the etiquette.
Tsume noticed. Her mouth twitched. "Eat. You probably haven't had a proper meal in a while."
She was right.
I didn't need to be told twice.
The first bite nearly made me dizzy. It was warm and satisfying, and my body suddenly realized how hungry it was. I forced myself to eat slower than I wanted, but the relief was immediate. This was the first real meal I'd had since waking up in this world, one that hadn't been rationed, rushed, or eaten with one eye on the treeline.
Tsume watched me eat with a faint smirk. "Good?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Really good."
She reached for her own bowl, eating with enthusiasm, her wild hair bouncing with each bite. For a moment, we enjoyed a companionable silence.
"How are you holding up?" she asked eventually.
I considered her question. "Still sore. Chakra exhaustion and light lacerations. Nothing that won't heal."
She hummed and then tugged her shirt up to reveal a toned midriff, exposing a half-healed cut along her side.
"A couple of cracked ribs and cuts. I've had worse."
I shot her a look. "You don't have to show me."
She grinned unapologetically and let the fabric drop. "Relax. I'm just messing around."
"Sure you are," I muttered.
She laughed, a sharp, genuine sound.
As we ate, the tone shifted. The easy humor faded, replaced by something heavier.
"What happened out there?" I asked quietly between mouthfuls.
Tsume responded, "After you went down?"
I nodded, my attention snapping into focus.
"Our cohort barely made it out," she continued. "We lost a lot of people, too many. The push turned into a mess faster than command expected."
I felt my jaw tighten.
"We lost a lot of ground too. We were pushed back to the grass, and I got more aggressive," she said bluntly. "Reinforcements are holding the lines, but it's ugly."
"And Lord Orochimaru?" I asked.
What happened to him?
Her eyes flicked up, and I could see the respect there. "He stalled the fence-sitter long enough for us to disengage. That's the only reason any of us are here."
I leaned back slightly, my breath slow. Images flashed through my mind: snakes, earth tearing open, that crushing pressure in the air.
He was a strong contender for the Hokage position.
The door slid open hard enough to rattle.
"BASARA!"
Riku barreled in like a thrown kunai.
Bandages wrapped his torso and one arm, his hair a mess, and one side of his face was ringed with a fading bruise, but his grin was wide, bright, and the same.
Before I could greet him, he dropped down across from me, sitting cross-legged without ceremony.
"You're alive," he said bluntly.
"So are you," I replied, smiling despite myself at the familiarity.
Tsume glared at him. "Announce yourself when you enter a room."
He stuck his tongue out at her. "You're not my mom."
She swatted the back of his head. "I could be."
He yelped but then laughed it off. "I was so glad when I found Shigure-san in the forest, you know."
That sobered me instantly. "Yeah…"
Tsume nodded. "You're lucky she's a combat medic. Anyone else and…" She made a slicing motion across her throat.
I sighed at that reminder. "…Where is she?"
"Hospital," Tsume replied. "All medic-nin who aren't injured are on rotation, even on leave."
That surprised me. I nodded slowly. "I'll go see her tomorrow."
Riku leaned back on his hands. "You should come out with us tomorrow night. Little get-together at a bar near the south district."
Tsume's grin returned, sharp and dangerous. "You're coming. That's not a suggestion."
I laughed softly. "…Alright."
For a while, we just sat there, eating and talking about nothing and everything. It felt strange to be surrounded by friends after being on an active battlefield; they were acting differently too, more relaxed.
Well, we are home.
Eventually, the light outside dimmed, and evening settled in.
Riku winced as he stood. "I should get back. Medics said I'm not allowed to pretend I'm fine."
"And prepare for your choosing ceremony. Don't mess it up like last time," Tsume muttered.
He stiffened and stared back at her, then limped off down the hall.
What the hell was that?
I stayed a bit longer, finishing my tea. When I finally stood, Tsume walked me back to the gate.
The compound was quieter now, with lanterns glowing softly along the paths.
At the gate, she stopped and caught my arm.
"Hey," she said, more serious now. "Thank you for saving Riku."
I blinked. "…Anyone Shinobi would've."
She shook her head. "No, they wouldn't have. You did. You're one of us now," she said firmly, smiling.
I was surprised at that answer, but still managed to smile back. "Thank you."
She released my arm and stepped back. "Get some rest. We'll see you tomorrow."
I nodded and stepped out into the street, the gate closing softly behind me.
I stood there for a few seconds after the gate closed, listening to the soft latch settle into place.
Then I turned and started walking.
The streets near the Inuzuka compound were quieter than the central market. Lanterns glowed under shop awnings, and the air carried the smell of cooked food from nearby houses. Somewhere nearby, a radio played low music. Civilians passed me without a second glance, vendors closing stalls, families heading home, kids being scolded for running too far ahead.
It was jarring how normal it all felt.
I stopped at a small corner shop first. It had a wooden counter and shelves lined with jars and paper-wrapped goods. I picked up a bottle of cheap sake, a carton of eggs, some milk, rice, cereals, and a few vegetables that looked like they'd last a couple of days, enough to cook something simple tomorrow.
The shopkeeper barely looked up when I paid.
It was another reminder: to most of them, I was just another customer, not a shinobi who could kill them in the blink of an eye.
It was strange how accustomed the civilians of Konoha were to shinobi; I figured they'd be more wary.
They feel safe, I wasnt sure how to feel about that
I slung the bag over my shoulder and kept walking.
The further I went, the less polished the village became. The streets narrowed, and buildings leaned closer together. This was the poorer side of Konoha. Rent was cheap here, especially for active-duty shinobi. High turnover meant people moved in, moved out, or never came back.
It took me nearly an hour at a civilian pace. My thigh still ached if I pushed it too fast.
As I walked, I observed the village.
Despite the war, despite fighting on multiple fronts, the village didn't feel strained. There were shinobi everywhere if you knew how to look: chakra signatures flickered like steady embers behind walls and rooftops, and patrols moved through crowds without the civilians ever noticing.
Power like this didn't crack easily.
I reached my building just as the sky began to darken toward night.
It was a large, blocky apartment structure, three stories high, made of reinforced stone and wood. Functional and boring, the kind of place no one wrote home about. A streetlight burned above the entrance.
Inside, the reception counter was manned by an older shinobi with tired eyes and an open ledger. He glanced up as I approached. I had left the key at the reception; everyone did when they left for deployment. It made things easier for the apartment management if they didn't return.
Wow, that turned morbid.
"Name?"
"Basara," I replied, then corrected myself out of habit. "...Returned from deployment."
He flipped through the ledger, found my name, and reached under the counter. "Welcome back."
He slid the key across to me.
I took it, nodding. "Thank you"
I climbed the stairs slowly, the sound of my sandals echoing faintly in the stairwell. The hallway on the third floor was quiet. A couple of doors were sealed, while others had faint chakra traces flickering softly behind them, probably sleeping.
The room beside mine was empty.
Not reassigned yet, I noted.
I unlocked my door and stepped inside.
The apartment was small but livable. It had a single main room with a low table and couch, a narrow kitchen to one side, a sliding door leading to the bathroom, and a small balcony. Dust clung to the corners, and the air smelled stale.
I dropped the bag by the counter, kicked off my sandals, and collapsed onto the couch without bothering to clean anything first.
For a while, I sat there, my body weary in a way that sleep alone couldn't remedy. My chakra coils still burned faintly, like overworked muscles refusing to relax.
Eventually, I grabbed the sake and stepped out onto the small balcony.
The cool night air brushed against my skin. Below, the village sprawled out in layers of tightly packed buildings. In the distance, I could see the peak of Hokage Mountain rising above the obstructing structures.
I sensed shinobi all around me, their signatures stacked floor by floor like a quiet constellation. Most of the rooms near mine were empty—still deployed, still alive, I hoped. If they were dead, someone else would have taken their place.
I took a slow sip of the
alcohol, which burned pleasantly as it slid down.
A week, I thought. They'd given me a week.
Enough time to heal. Enough time to prepare.
My thoughts drifted back to the battlefield, to the moment everything had gone wrong, and then to my kekkei genkai.
Mokuton.
The word felt heavy in my mind. I couldn't tell anyone, not yet, not like this.
If the village knew if command knew, everything would change. I wouldn't have the option to refuse anything ever again. That was the reality of such power. Even Tsume and the Inuzuka clan couldn't shield me from it.
I would have no agency, no safety net, no one to rely on
Hashirama's shadow loomed over the world, even decades later.
Hiruzen might have appeared as the kindly old man in the stories, but here he was a military dictator, and I was just a nameless chūnin orphan.
Maybe I could reach out to the Senju clan; perhaps they'd take me in? No, not yet, I am too weak, and I don't know how they might react.
I shook my head, finished the drink, and went back inside, sliding the balcony door shut and pulling the blinds closed.
The room felt smaller without the night sky.
I stripped off my clothes and headed for the bathroom, filling the tub with hot water. Steam rose quickly, fogging the mirror. I lowered myself into the water with a quiet exhale, letting the heat seep into my muscles.
For the first time since waking up in this world, I allowed myself to fully relax.
After a while, I lifted one hand above the water and focused.
Slowly.
Carefully.
I drew chakra up from my core, not much, just enough. I separated it, as I had practiced: water-nature chakra, cool and fluid; earth-nature chakra, heavy and grounded.
At first, they resisted each other.
I let them meet in my palm.
The sensation was both wrong and right, filled with pressure, and a subtle vibration, as if something were trying to take shape.
Then...
A small, uneven rod pushed out of my skin, pale brown and plant-like looking, like freshly grown wood. My breath caught. It drained chakra quickly but it moved when I willed it to, lengthening and narrowing as I shaped it into something sharper.
I smiled.
After a few seconds, I released the chakra. The wood crumbled, drying and breaking apart into dust.
I leaned back, my heart pounding.
I could do it.
I wasn't sure how far I could push my limits on my own, but I could start with what I have and know.
That would have to be enough.
For now
I drained the tub, dried off, and soon fell into bed. Sleep took me almost instantly.
Tomorrow, I will train.