The market district was trying very hard to pretend it hadn't been on fire a week ago.
Scaffolding hugged the sides of the tea shops like wooden bandages. The smell of sawdust and fresh lacquer fought a losing war against the lingering scent of smoke, but the vendors were shouting their prices with aggressive cheerfulness, determined to drown out the memory of sirens.
Hinata walked with her hands clasped in front of her obi, eyes on the cobblestones.
"You're walking too slow," Hanabi said.
Hinata looked up. Her younger sister was three paces ahead, hands behind her head, looking bored in that distinct, terrifying way only a Hyūga prodigy could manage. Hanabi's kimono was crisp, her hair pulled back tight, her eyes sharp as cut glass.
Behind them, Natsu Hyūga walked with the silent, gliding step of a shadow that had been taught manners. Her maid's uniform was immaculate, the white apron stark against the black dress, her hair pinned up without a single stray strand. She wasn't a guard, technically. She was an attendant.
But Hinata knew the difference between service and surveillance was just a matter of orders.
"I'm... sorry," Hinata murmured, quickening her pace.
"Father doesn't want us out here all day," Hanabi said, stopping at a stall displaying dried herbs and medicinal jars. She picked up a bottle, inspected the label with a critical sneer, and put it back. "He says the streets are still 'unstable.'"
"He's worried," Hinata said.
"He's paranoid," Hanabi corrected. She glanced back at Natsu. "Aren't you, Natsu?"
Natsu smiled. It was a polite, porcelain expression that didn't reach her eyes. "Hiashi-sama is prudent, Hanabi-sama. The village is still securing its perimeter."
Hinata felt a twinge in her chest. Prudent. It was a polite word for terrified the Kumo delegation is still lurking in the bushes.
They moved past a weapon shop where a chūnin was haggling over kunai prices. A group of civilians hurried past carrying lumber. Everyone was moving with purpose. Everyone had a job.
Hinata's gaze drifted to the right, snagging on a familiar storefront.
The Apothecary.
It wasn't the big hospital pharmacy. It was a smaller, older shop that smelled of ground roots and tiger balm. The kind of place that sold things the clans usually kept for themselves.
In the window, a display of field kits sat open. Rolls of high-grade bandages. Vials of blood-clotting agent. Small, ceramic pots of the burn salve that smelled like peppermint and saved skin from scarring.
Hinata stopped.
She thought of Naruto, grinning through a bruised jaw. She thought of Sylvie's hands, wrapped in white tape, stained with ink and burns. She thought of the way Sasuke held his neck when he thought no one was looking.
They were leaving.
The rumor mill in the Hyūga compound was efficient. The Sannin mission. The search for the slug princess. Team 7 was being sent out into the world, away from the walls, away from the safety that wasn't really safe anymore.
Hanabi stopped walking. She turned around, followed Hinata's gaze, and raised an eyebrow.
"You're staring," Hanabi said.
"I'm not," Hinata lied.
"You are. You're doing the finger-fidget thing." Hanabi pointed at Hinata's hands, where her index fingers were indeed pressing together. "You want to buy something."
"I... I was just thinking," Hinata stammered. "About... supplies."
Hanabi rolled her eyes. "For the loud boy?"
Hinata turned scarlet. "H-Hanabi!"
"Or the pink one," Hanabi continued, merciless. "The one who yelled at Neji-niisan in the hospital. I heard about that. The branch family guards were scandalized." A tiny, shark-like grin touched her mouth. "I liked it."
Natsu cleared her throat softly. "Hanabi-sama, we should return to the compound. The afternoon training block—"
"Can wait five minutes," Hanabi snapped, not looking away from Hinata. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "They're leaving today, aren't they?"
Hinata nodded, miserable. "Yes."
"And you want to say goodbye."
"I... I shouldn't bother them. They're busy. They have a mission. And Father..."
"Father is in a meeting with the elders," Hanabi said. "He won't know unless Natsu tells him." She shot the maid a look that was pure Hyūga arrogance condensed into a seven-year-old. "And Natsu won't tell him, because Natsu likes her tea breaks undisturbed."
Natsu's expression didn't change, but her chakra—a muted, controlled flow—rippled with resignation. "Five minutes," she murmured.
Hanabi turned back to Hinata and poked her in the ribs.
"Go," she said.
"But—"
"Buy the ointment," Hanabi ordered. "The expensive stuff. The one that smells like money. Then go to the gate."
Hinata hesitated. The weight of the clan, of her failure in the arena, of her father's disappointment pressed down on her shoulders like a physical cloak.
Then she thought of Naruto's voice in the stadium. I'll win in her place!
She thought of Sylvie sitting by her hospital bed, talking about courage.
She took a breath.
"Okay," Hinata whispered.
"Louder," Hanabi said.
"Okay," Hinata said, chin lifting a fraction.
She walked into the shop.
Five minutes later, she emerged with a small, wrapped package clutched in her hand. It felt heavy. It felt like a promise.
"Well?" Hanabi asked, arms crossed.
"I got it," Hinata said.
"Good," Hanabi said. "Now run. If you miss them, I'm going to tell Father you were skipping training to look at boys."
Hinata's eyes went wide. "You wouldn't!"
"Try me."
Hinata didn't wait to test the threat. She bowed once to Natsu, gave Hanabi a quick, frantic nod, and bolted down the street toward the main gate.
Natsu watched her go, hands folded in her apron.
"She is getting faster," the maid observed quietly.
Hanabi watched her sister's back disappear into the crowd. Her expression was unreadable, ancient eyes in a child's face.
"She has to be," Hanabi said. "If she wants to keep up with them."
The main gate of Konoha was less of a majestic exit and more of a bottleneck for anxiety.
I stood near the guard post, adjusting the strap of my bag for the thirtieth time. It was the same canvas bag Anko had thrown into the forest, washed (mostly) and restocked (mostly). It still smelled faintly of leaf mold and trauma.
Naruto was sitting on a bollard, swinging his legs and trying to look cool while vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass. Sasuke was leaning against the wall a few feet away, eyes closed, radiating a "do not perceive me" aura that was entirely ineffective because he was wearing a high-collared shirt that screamed look at my mysterious neck injury.
Anko was late. Jiraiya was late.
This was my life now. Waiting for powerful, irresponsible adults while my cortisol levels spiked.
"They're not coming," Naruto announced. "They forgot us. We live here now."
"It's been ten minutes," I said. "Relax. Jiraiya is probably buying corn or peeping. Anko is probably... sharpening her teeth."
"Hn," Sasuke contributed.
I rubbed my temples. My chakra felt thin today—scraped out. The sealing training with the Third had been intense, and then the hospital shifts... I felt like a battery that wouldn't hold a charge.
My sensory range was pulled in tight, a little bubble around us to keep the headache at bay.
That was why I didn't notice the invasion until it was right on top of us.
"PINKIE!"
I jumped, hand flying to my pouch.
Ino Yamanaka barreled out of the morning crowd like a heat-seeking missile in purple.
"Ino?" I blinked. "What are you—"
She didn't stop. She marched right up to me, grabbed my shoulders, and inspected my face like she was checking a melon for ripeness.
"Okay," she said. "Dark circles: bad. Outfit: functional but tragic. Hair..." She paused, eyes narrowing at my choppy, uneven bob. "Still a crime scene, but a cute crime scene."
"Thanks," I said dryly. "I try."
Behind her, the rest of the rookie squad trickled in. Chōji, munching on a bag of chips. Shikamaru, looking like he'd been dragged out of bed by his ponytail. And Kiba, slouching along with his hands in his pockets, Akamaru's head poking out of his jacket.
"What is this?" Sasuke asked, opening one eye. "A field trip?"
"A send-off," Ino declared. She let go of me and rummaged in her pouch. "Since you guys are going on a 'super secret S-rank mission'—"
"It's B-rank," I corrected.
"—to find the legendary Sannin," she bulldozed on, "we figured you needed supplies."
She pulled out a sleek, white tube and slapped it into my hand.
I stared at it. "Is this... weaponized cream?"
"It's conditioner," Ino said solemnly. "High-end. Imported from the Land of Hot Water. It has silk proteins."
I looked at her. "Ino. We are going to be sleeping in dirt."
"Exactly!" She poked me in the chest. "Just because you're hunting missing-nin doesn't mean you have to let your ends split. The pink is a brand, Sylvie. You have to maintain the brand."
I felt a stupid, hot lump form in my throat.
It was ridiculous. It was vain. It was the most Ino thing she could possibly have done.
"Okay," I said, clutching the tube. "Brand maintenance. Got it."
She beamed, then leaned in and hugged me—quick, fierce, smelling of flowers and gunpowder. "Don't die," she whispered. "I still have to fix the cut properly."
"I won't," I promised into her shoulder.
Chōji stepped up next, crunching loudly. He held out two foil-wrapped bars.
"Here," he said. "For you and Naruto. Sasuke doesn't eat sweets."
"I eat sustenance," Sasuke muttered.
"These are sustenance," Chōji said seriously. "Akimichi special ration bars. Three thousand calories each. If you run out of chakra, eat half of one. If you eat the whole thing at once, you won't sleep for three days."
Naruto snatched his. "Whoa! Super food! Thanks, Chōji!"
I took mine more carefully. It felt dense as a brick.
"Thanks, Chōji," I said. "This is... actually really practical."
"Food is always practical," Chōji said wisely.
Shikamaru sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "This is such a drag. Mom made me come. Said it was 'polite.'"
"You walked all the way here," I pointed out.
"Yeah, well." He wouldn't meet my eyes. His shadow stretched out, thin and lazy, touching the toe of my sandal. "Just... watch your spacing. And don't let Naruto get you killed."
"Hey!" Naruto protested.
"I'll try," I said. "Keep an eye on the village for us?"
Shikamaru's gaze sharpened for a fraction of a second—that steel-trap mind peeking out from under the lazy cloud.
"Yeah," he said. "We'll keep the board set."
Then there was Kiba.
He stood a little apart, kicking at a loose stone. When I looked at him, he scowled and looked at a tree.
"I was just walking Akamaru," he announced to the air. "We happened to be coming this way."
"To the main gate?" I asked. "Away from the park?"
"Akamaru likes the... gate smells," Kiba insisted.
Akamaru barked, a happy, traitorous sound, and wriggled free of Kiba's jacket. He hit the ground running, bounded over to me, and put his paws on my shin, tail wagging so hard his whole body shook.
"Traitor!" Kiba hissed.
I crouched down and ruffled the dog's soft fur. Akamaru licked my hand, then trotted over to Naruto and did the same, yipping excitedly.
"See?" Naruto crowed. "He loves us! He knows we're the main characters!"
Kiba grumbled, stomping over to retrieve his dog. He scooped Akamaru up, but didn't retreat immediately. He looked at me, then at Sasuke, then at Naruto.
His chakra felt spiky and red—embarrassed, competitive, worried.
"Don't think you're special just because you got a mission," Kiba muttered. "We're all training. When you get back... I'm gonna challenge you. And I'm gonna win."
He looked at Naruto when he said it.
Naruto grinned. "You can try, dog breath! But I'll be way stronger by then!"
"We'll see," Kiba said. He glanced at me. "And you... watch your back. Or whatever."
"I will," I said. "Thanks, Kiba."
He turned red, shoved Akamaru back into his jacket, and turned away. "Whatever. Let's go, Akamaru. This place smells like losers."
"Bye, Kiba!" Naruto yelled after him.
I stood up, tucking the conditioner and the calorie brick into my bag. The warmth in my chest was real now, pushing back the cold anxiety of the mission.
It felt like... a team. Not just us three. A cohort.
"Wait!"
The shout came from down the street.
I turned.
Hinata Hyūga was sprinting toward us. Not a ninja run—a desperate, flat-out sprint, arms pumping, face flushed.
She skidded to a halt a few meters away, chest heaving. She was bent double, hands on her knees, gasping for air.
"Hinata?" Naruto blinked. "Whoa. You okay?"
She gulped air, nodded, and straightened up. Her eyes were huge and terrified, but she didn't look away. She walked right up to us.
She held out a small, cloth-wrapped package.
"For..." She wheezed. "For... the trip."
Naruto reached for it, but she sidestepped him—surprising everyone, including herself—and thrust it at me.
"Sylvie-san," she said. "Please."
I took it. It was heavy for its size. Ceramic.
"It's... Hyūga clan ointment," she whispered, fast and low. "For... bruises. And cuts. And... chakra burns."
She glanced at my hands.
"It helps," she said.
My throat closed up.
This wasn't just medicine. This was clan medicine. The kind you didn't buy. The kind you had to steal from the supply closet while your father wasn't looking.
"Hinata," I said. "This is..."
"Please," she said again.
She turned to Naruto then. Her face went even redder, if that was possible.
"Naruto-kun," she said.
"Yeah?" Naruto asked, oblivious and sunny.
Hinata's fingers twisted together.
"Please... come back," she said. "And... show them. Show them all."
Naruto's grin softened into something gentler.
"I will," he promised. "I'll win. For you too."
Hinata looked like she might faint from sheer emotion. She gave a jerky bow, spun around, and ran back the way she came before she could combust.
I watched her go, tucking the ointment carefully into a side pocket where I could reach it fast.
I looked around at Ino, Chōji, Shikamaru.
They weren't hugging us. They weren't crying. They were just... there. Standing in the gap between the village and the road.
"We'll hold the fort," Shikamaru said, hands in his pockets. "Go do your troublesome S-rank thing."
"B-rank," I corrected automatically.
He just smirked.
We stood there for a moment longer, soaking it in. The conditioning. The calories. The rivalry. The quiet, desperate support of kids who had all grown up too fast in the last seven days.
Then, one by one, they turned back toward the village.
And we were left alone at the gate.
Just me, Naruto, Sasuke, and a lot of empty road.
"They're definitely late now," Naruto complained, kicking a pebble.
"Hn," Sasuke agreed.
I looked at the sky. The sun was climbing.
"Yeah," I said. "They are."