I took the scroll from her. Cracking the seal, I opened it, and the felt paper was cool and crisp between my fingers. My eyes skimmed the neat handwriting of the deployment orders, focusing on the destination written in careful calligraphy there in
ink.
Suna.
I exhaled through my nose. "Suna, huh..."
"Mm," Tsume hummed, already halfway to my fridge. She opened it without asking and fished out a bottle, twisting the cap off with her teeth. I watched her with a flat look as she took a long pull.
"Hey..." I started, looking at her drink, then stopped myself, shaking my head. "Are we on the same squad?"
She swallowed, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and shrugged like it was obvious. "Yeah. All of us. Your team, and mine, including Shigure. We'll be together this deployment."
I didn't ask how she'd pulled that off. I didn't need to. I knew how powerful the Clans of Konoha were, reputation, favors owed, the Inuzuka lacked nothing. A colder thought followed right on its heels: if the worst ever came out, not if but when my keikei genkai was found out, having Tsume and her clan in my corner might be very helpful.
The thought left a bitter taste.
Loyalty is loyalty, no matter how one sees it, I told myself. And I had proven to Tsume that I could be trusted by saving Riku.
I shook my head, clearing it, as she finished the drink and tossed the empty into my bin with a casual flick.
"We all have to meet at seven," she said, already turning for the door. "By the Hokage Monument. Don't be late."
She paused with her hand on the knob, then glanced back over her shoulder. "I've been trying to find Shigure since yesterday. with no luck." Her eyes flicked to my face, looking at me mischievously. "You wouldn't happen to know where she's been, would you?"
I kept my expression neutral as I shrugged. "I don't know that... why would I know that...?"
She studied me for a second longer, then snorted. "Right." The word carried exactly the amount of disbelief it deserved. "Tell her if you see her. She'll want to know."
Kuromaru stood, gave me a low, rumbling bark that might have been amusement, and then padded after her. Tsume nodded once more, serious now. "Get some rest and pack your supplies well. Suna is, well... a desert."
Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.
I stood there for a long moment, scroll still in my hand, the silence settling in. The morning sunlight slanted through the window, catching dust motes in the air. I sat on the couch and let the moment sink in.
Another war zone. Another front, fighting with my life on the line again.
Anxiety was what I felt.
I closed my eyes and drew a slow breath, then another, steadying myself as I grew used to the familiar feeling of almost spiraling. Panic didn't help. Doubt didn't either. I'd survived worse than this, hadn't I?
Have some confidence in yourself, I thought, firmly this time.
I stood, pulled on a shirt, grabbed my wallet and sandals, and headed out into the village.
Chakra slid into my legs out of habit as I vaulted.
The edge of the apartment roof came and went beneath my feet, tiles rattling as I pushed off. Wind rushed past my ears, cool and sharp, tugging at my shirt as I landed on the next building and immediately launched again.
I ran like that for several blocks, breath steady, heart pounding faster than it needed to.
My stomach chose that moment to growl, loud and insistent, cutting through my focus. I grimaced and skidded to a stop on a flat rooftop near the center of the village, crouching low as I let the momentum bleed off.
Right. I hadn't eaten.
I straightened slowly, exhaled, and forced myself to pause. Rushing wasn't going to help. It never did. I had the entire day to prepare, rest, and make sure I didn't head into another battlefield half-cocked, just like the time I woke up in this world.
I dropped down to the street in a controlled fall, my sandals thudding softly against packed dirt. A couple of civilians startled, one man jumping back with a curse before realizing I wasn't about to tackle him. I lifted a hand in apology, offering a smile.
They relaxed almost instantly.
One woman even smiled back and nodded, like this was just another shinobi passing through her morning.
That still surprised me.
I turned down a side street I knew well and followed the smell of cooking until it led me to a small, family-run restaurant tucked between two larger buildings. The signboard was worn smooth by years of weather, the paint faded but lovingly maintained. Inside, it was warm and smelled like rice and broth.
A bell chimed softly as I slid the door open.
"Welcome!" a voice called from behind the counter.
I took a seat near the wall, back straight, pack at my feet. The owner, a middle-aged woman with laugh lines and a kind smile, set a cup of tea down in front of me without even asking. I nodded my thanks.
"I'll have some miso soup, grilled fish, and eggs, please," I said.
She smiled. "Coming right up."
While I waited, I looked around, relaxing into the chair.
The place was half full of civilians, mostly. A pair of older men arguing quietly about prices. A young couple whispering to each other over a shared dish. A group of kids at the far table daring each other to eat something spicy.
No one was talking about the war.
No one whispered about fronts or casualties or missing sons.
It felt strange that they could be so normal.
The food arrived steaming, neatly arranged, simple, and perfect. I ate slowly at first, savoring the heat of the soup, the salt of the fish, and the softness of the rice. Then I ate faster, hunger catching up with me all at once.
By the time I finished, the knot in my chest had loosened a fraction, and I felt more relaxed as I filled my belly. I paid at the counter, bowed politely, and stepped back out into the street, feeling better than I had all morning.
From there, I headed toward the main street.
Hokage Mountain loomed in the distance, the three stone faces catching the light as clouds drifted lazily past above. The Hokage Tower stood below it, visible even from here.
Power.
That's what I felt when I looked at the scene.
I turned off before reaching the tower and made my way toward one of the most popular weapon supply stores in the village. The place had been there longer than I'd been alive in this world, wooden beams darkened by age, iron fittings polished smooth by thousands of hands.
A bell clanged as I stepped inside.
"Welcome!" boomed a deep voice.
The owner was exactly where he always was, behind the counter: a bulky, broad-shouldered man with forearms like tree trunks and a beard shot through with gray. He looked up, eyes sharp despite the easy grin.
"Hey there, war treating you alright?"
I snorted softly at his humor. "Something like that."
I walked the length of the counter as I listed off what I needed, fingers tapping lightly against the wood. "Kunai, standard weight. Shuriken. Explosive tags, heat-resistant adhesive. Smoke tags. Makibashi spikes. Weapon oil. Soldier pills. Face wrap. Goggles. A few ration pills. And some cloth tarps."
He nodded along without interrupting, already turning to bark orders to an assistant in the back. "Goggles, huh... Suna, then? The sand eats your eyes alive, good call."
Crates opened. Drawers slid. The rhythmic clatter of metal filled the shop as my order came together piece by piece. I inspected the kunai briefly, tested the balance, and nodded. Everything was solid.
When he tallied it up, I blinked.
"That's... less than I expected."
He shrugged one massive shoulder. "That's today's price."
I didn't correct him.
I paid with the money I'd received from my last deployment. I accepted the wrapped package, adjusted it in my hands, and bowed my thanks.
Outside, the sky had shifted. The sun was higher now, bright and clear.
For a moment, I considered training.
Just a little. Then I shook my head.
No.
Tonight would likely involve running, long distances, possibly straight into combat. I needed every ounce of strength I had. Training now would only tire me.
So instead, I turned back toward my apartment.
__________________________________________________________________________
I opened my eyes slowly, breath steady, palms resting on my knees. The room was dark. I listened to the quiet hum of the building, the distant sounds of the village outside, and my own chakra circulating in a calm, practiced loop.
Meditation had been the right call, circulating my chakra.
After getting back from the supply run, my nerves had been wound too tight, thoughts racing ahead to Suna and the fighting. So I'd sat down instead, back straight, eyes closed, cycling chakra slowly through my coils.
Now, when I glanced at the small clock on the wall, the hands read 6:30..
I exhaled softly and let the circulation slow to a stop, drawing my chakra back into itself. I felt it sharpen as I called to it.
Its Time.
I stood and crossed the room in a few long strides, reaching for the storage scroll tucked safely on the shelf, the one Sayui had given me. The paper was worn at the edges, but the seals still worked perfectly, my lifeline when it came to carrying too much gear for one person.
I unrolled it across the low table and pressed my palm down.
One by one, I sealed away my excess supplies: extra food pills, bandages, spare kunai and shuriken I wouldn't need immediately,extra smoke tags I hoped I wouldn't have to use. Each item vanished into its separate sealing formula with a faint whisper of chakra, the scroll growing heavier in a way that wasn't physical to my senses.
When I was done, I rolled it back up and tucked it securely into my pack.
Then came the rest.
I strapped on my weapons pouch first, settling it against my lower back where my hands could reach it without thought. Another pouch went around my thigh, snug. I shrugged into my flak jacket next, adjusting the straps until the weight was distributed evenly across my shoulders and torso. It was the replacement issued after my old one had been shredded; it still felt a little stiff and unfamiliar.
That would change.
Last came the tanto.
I lifted it with both hands for a second, feeling its balance, the quiet weight of it. Then I slid the sheath into place across my back, securing it until it rested diagonally over my shoulder, exactly where I would expect it to be in a pinch.
When I finished, I stood there for a moment, looking at my reflection in the darkened window.
I stood there, fully geared, ready for war.
I locked the apartment behind me and made my way down the stairs, boots quiet against the worn steps. At the reception desk, the attendant looked up as I approached, eyes flicking briefly over my gear before reaching for the key ledger.
I set my key down.
"Deployment?" he asked, not unkindly.
"Yeah."
He nodded, took the key, and slid it into its place, then gave me a respectful nod in acknowledgment.
"Good luck, may the Sage be with you," he said.
I returned his nod and stepped back out into the street.
I didn't bother walking this time.
The moment I cleared the apartment, chakra flowed into my legs, smooth and controlled. I took off at a run, leaping onto the rooftops in two quick bounds. Wind rushed past my face as I sprinted across the houses.
Ahead, Hokage Mountain loomed.
And I wasn't alone.
I could sense them now, dozens, then hundreds of chakra signatures moving in the same direction. Shinobi converging from all corners of the village, their presences flaring brighter as they pushed their speed, urgency humming through the air like a shared heartbeat.
I followed the flow. I knew we were going to the same place. We made our way to the base of the mountain and then around.
The climb up the mountain path was steep, the stone steps worn smooth by generations of feet. I slowed just enough to blend into the stream of shinobi running ahead of me, boots striking stone in uneven rhythm. No one spoke. No one needed to.
We all knew why we were here.
Then the path narrowed as we entered a small passage into the mountain.
I hesitated for half a second at the entrance carved directly into the mountain itself. A stone gate stood open, torches burning on either side, their flames steady despite the constant flow of chakra-heavy air.
The space inside was enormous, far larger than it had any right to be. The ceiling vanished into shadow high above, supported by thick stone pillars etched with sealing formulas and old markings I didn't recognize. Torches and chakra lamps lined the walls, casting flickering light over a sea of gathered shinobi.
Hundreds of them.
Jonin. Chunin. Genin. Squads clustered together, murmuring quietly or standing in disciplined silence. Weapons were checked and rechecked. The air was thick with anticipation, tension pressing down like a physical weight.
I slowed, senses stretching outward.
And then, I felt them.
Familiar signatures, distinct against the ambient noise.
My team.