The light had shifted by the time they left Nekobaa's place.
Afternoon gold stretched longer now, sliding sideways through the narrow streets of Sora-ku in dusty amber bands. The rooftops glowed warm at their edges while the spaces between buildings deepened into cool blue shadow.
Behind them, the old cat house settled back into itself.
Wind chimes clicked softly.
A chorus of distant meows echoed somewhere overhead.
Nekobaa had not formally said goodbye.
She had merely grunted at Tamaki to "not die stupidly" before disappearing deeper into the building with three cats following at her heels like furry attendants.
Which, honestly, Kurenai suspected counted as affection.
Tamaki walked beside them now with both hands lightly clasped near her waist. The small pouch Nekobaa had given her hung from her hip, brushing softly against her leg with each step.
Kurenai noticed the girl kept glancing upward.
Listening.
Every so often, a cat would dart across a roofline overhead, and Tamaki's eyes would instinctively track the movement before it fully appeared.
Not visually.
Prematurely.
The beginnings of something sensory were blooming there.
Still rough.
Still untrained.
But alive.
The abandoned Uchiha district awaited them again as they crossed back toward central Konoha.
The transition felt immediate.
Sora-ku carried warmth despite its age.
The Uchiha compound carried memory.
Long shadows stretched across empty walkways lined with aging wooden homes bearing the fan crest of a dead clan. Dust collected undisturbed near doorframes. A faded wind spinner squeaked rhythmically somewhere deeper inside the district.
Keeeee… keeek… keeek…
Tamaki slowed slightly as they passed one of the larger residential blocks.
"…It's sad here," she murmured.
Kurenai glanced sideways at her.
"Yes."
There wasn't really another answer.
A pair of cats watched them from atop a fence post.
One had a torn ear.
The other blinked slowly at Yūgao before leaping soundlessly into the empty compound beyond.
Tamaki hesitated before speaking again.
"…What are they like?"
"Kiba and Hinata?" Kurenai asked.
Tamaki nodded.
Her fingers lightly touched the edge of her pouch again.
Nervous.
Curious.
Probably trying to imagine herself suddenly inserted into an already existing team structure.
Kurenai thought carefully as they walked.
"Well…" She smiled faintly. "Kiba's very energetic."
"That sounds polite," Yūgao observed dryly.
Kurenai snorted softly.
"It is."
Tamaki smiled a little at that.
"And Hinata?" she asked.
Kurenai's expression softened almost immediately at the mention of her student.
"Hinata is…" She paused, searching for the right phrasing. "Very gentle."
A breeze stirred fallen leaves across the empty district road.
"But also very anxious," Kurenai admitted. "At least historically."
Historically.
Interesting word choice.
Because it was becoming less true lately.
Kurenai touched her chin thoughtfully while glancing upward toward the orange-tinged sky beyond the rooftops.
"Actually…" she murmured slowly. "She has been gaining a lot more confidence recently."
And it was true.
Small things.
Subtle things.
But noticeable.
Hinata held eye contact longer now.
Spoke a little louder.
Stepped forward instead of waiting to be addressed first.
The growth was fragile, but real.
Kurenai smiled warmly toward Tamaki.
"You'll fit right in."
Tamaki blinked.
Then looked down quickly, visibly trying not to smile too hard.
"…Thank you."
Ahead, the district finally opened back toward the populated arteries of Konoha proper.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Noise returned in waves.
Merchants shouting.
Children running.
The smell of grilled meat drifting through the air alongside woodsmoke and broth.
Civilization rushed back in around them like water filling empty space.
Yūgao slowed near a branching street that curved back toward the flower district.
"I should head back."
Kurenai nodded immediately.
"Inouye's probably drowning in ribbon inventory by now."
"Or emotionally adopting another cactus."
"Again?"
"She named the last one."
Kurenai laughed softly through her nose.
Yūgao's mouth twitched faintly upward at the sound.
For a second, the expression reached her eyes again.
Not fully healed.
Maybe not even close.
But no longer entirely buried either.
Yūgao glanced toward Tamaki.
"You'll be fine."
Tamaki straightened slightly at the unexpected reassurance.
"I'll try."
"Hm." Yūgao gently disentangled a strand of fur from her sleeve. "The cats already seem invested."
As if summoned by the statement itself, a tiny black kitten suddenly popped its head out from inside Tamaki's shoulder pouch.
Tamaki yelped softly.
Kurenai stared.
The kitten blinked sleepily.
Apparently it had smuggled itself into their group sometime after leaving Nekobaa's place.
Tamaki carefully lifted it out with both hands.
"I didn't even—"
"It chose you," Yūgao said simply.
The kitten immediately curled into Tamaki's arms like a satisfied comma.
Yūgao nodded once toward Kurenai.
Then toward Tamaki.
"Don't let Kiba bark too much."
And with that she turned, purple hair swaying behind her as she disappeared back into the afternoon crowd toward the Yamanaka Flower Shop.
Kurenai watched her go for a moment.
Then exhaled quietly.
She hoped this continued.
The smiling.
The speaking.
The existing outside grief.
Loss could become a room people accidentally locked themselves inside forever.
Yūgao had been standing near the doorway for too long already.
"…Come on," Kurenai said gently.
Tamaki adjusted the kitten in her arms and followed.
The walk toward the Inuzuka district carried them gradually closer to the outer forested regions of Konoha where the air changed again.
Cleaner.
Wilder.
The scent hit before the compound itself became visible.
Dogs.
Earth.
Pine needles.
Wet fur.
The Inuzuka clan grounds blended directly into dense woodland threaded with elevated walkways and training clearings carved between enormous trees. Bark claw marks decorated several trunks. Rope bridges swayed lazily overhead while distant barking echoed through the forest in chaotic bursts.
Tamaki visibly stiffened.
The kitten in her arms puffed up slightly.
Kurenai pretended not to notice.
"This way," she said.
They followed one of the packed dirt trails deeper into the clan forest until movement suddenly exploded from somewhere overhead.
THUMP.
A boy landed directly in the middle of the trail.
Kiba Inuzuka.
Wild brown hair.
Feral grin.
Fang markings bright against his cheeks.
Akamaru rested in his arms as a fluffy white puppy bundle with oversized paws and curious dark eyes.
"Kurenai-sensei!" Kiba barked enthusiastically.
Then he noticed Tamaki.
And stopped functioning.
Kurenai watched the exact moment his brain derailed.
His posture locked.
His ears turned pink.
Akamaru sniffed the air once.
Then sneezed directly into Kiba's face.
"Gyah!"
Kiba nearly dropped him.
Tamaki blinked in surprise.
The kitten in her arms hissed immediately.
Akamaru barked back.
The kitten hissed louder.
Kiba recovered just enough to point dramatically.
"CATS SUCK!" he blurted with the sheer defensive panic of a fourteen-year-old boy whose nervous system had just been ambushed. "DOGS ARE WAY BETTER!"
Silence.
Tamaki stared.
Akamaru wagged happily, completely unaware of the social catastrophe unfolding around him.
Kiba's blush deepened all the way to his ears.
"I-I mean not that I care or anything! But dogs are cooler and smarter and way less creepy!"
The kitten atop Tamaki's arms narrowed its tiny eyes with deep ancestral hatred.
Tamaki looked utterly bewildered.
Kurenai pressed two fingers lightly against the bridge of her nose.
"Kiba…"
"ANYWAY I GOTTA GO!"
And then he fled.
Not tactically withdrew.
Not gracefully exited.
Fled.
He vanished into the forest at full speed with Akamaru tucked under one arm like a stolen loaf of bread.
Branches shook violently overhead.
"DOGS RULE!" echoed faintly through the trees.
Then silence.
Kurenai stared at the empty forest trail for several long seconds.
A crow somewhere nearby let out what sounded suspiciously like judgment.
Finally, Kurenai scratched awkwardly at the side of her nose.
"…I told you he had energy."
Tamaki looked toward the trees where Kiba had disappeared.
Then down at the kitten.
Then back toward Kurenai.
Very slowly, awkwardly, she smiled.
"…He seems loud."
Kurenai laughed before she could stop herself.
A real laugh this time.
Warm and sudden beneath the lowering autumn sun while somewhere deep in the Inuzuka forest, Kiba continued dying of embarrassment in real time.