Chapter 157: Return to the Village

The mist of Kirigakure rose gently along the cobbled streets, mingling with the scent of the sea. The Hidden Mist Village was wrapped in the quiet of dusk, the flickering lantern lights illuminating narrow pathways between the houses, creating an almost surreal atmosphere.

After days spent on a mission in the woods, Team Suiren finally entered the village.

Suiren walked ahead, her steps confident, her expression impassive as always. Yet occasionally, her eyes lingered on her students.

She had watched them grow over these past two years.

Shinji, always carefree but sharpened in skill. Kurara, methodical and detail-oriented. Shin, a silent rock who commanded respect without needing words.

Though the mission had been low-ranked, it required a certain degree of coordination—and they'd handled it with efficiency.

She had to admit it: they had improved.

But they were still young. And after every mission, recovery was essential.

"For today, you're done. Go and rest," she said without turning around, her tone leaving no room for objections.

Shinji stretched his arms above his head, yawning loudly. "Yeah, yeah, Sensei… nothing beats some rest after a job well done."

But just as he was about to add something else—

GURGLE.

The rumbling sound of his stomach echoed loudly within the group's silence.

Kurara struggled to hold back a giggle, while Shin merely raised an eyebrow.

Suiren paused for a second, then subtly shook her head before resuming her walk.

Shinji scratched the back of his head, forcing a grin. "Okay… maybe I should eat something first."

Kurara crossed her arms. "What a surprise."

"What about you guys? Coming with me?" Shinji asked, ignoring Kurara's sarcasm.

Shin nodded without hesitation. "Eating is necessary."

Shinji clapped his hands enthusiastically. "Finally, someone understands life's priorities!"

Kurara ran a hand through her hair, seemingly uncertain about her response. Then she shook her head. "I've got something else to do."

Shinji raised his hands. "Alright, alright. But next time, no excuses!"

Kurara didn't reply, but her gaze softened slightly before she turned around and headed towards her destination.

Shinji watched her figure retreating for a moment, then gave Shin a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Let's go, before my stomach starts eating itself."

And so, the two headed off towards their favorite spot.

- - -

The air was filled with the scent of hot broth, spices, and freshly cooked noodles.The red fabric curtain with the stand's symbol gently swayed in the breeze, while inside, the sounds of pots and bowls clattering filled the atmosphere.

Shinji stepped inside without hesitation, spreading his arms with a satisfied grin. "Ahh… home sweet home!"

Behind the counter, Kenji turned around with an ironic smirk. "Look who's back! And here I thought I'd finally have some peace without you."

Shinji laughed, taking a seat on one of the wooden stools. "Come on, Kenji. Admit it! Without me, your stall would be way more boring!"

Kenji huffed, crossing his arms. "If by 'boring' you mean 'quieter and less troublesome', then yes."

Shin silently took the stool next to Shinji.

Kenji eyed him briefly. "You too, huh? You're bigger than last time."

Shin simply nodded. "More training, more growth."

Kenji shook his head with a smile. "At least one of you won't give me a headache."

Without further delay, Kenji placed two steaming bowls of ramen in front of them. " On the house, since you just got back."

Shinji dramatically widened his eyes. "Kenji, I knew under that tough shell was a heart of gold!"

Kenji scoffed again. "Only because it'll get you to stop talking sooner."

Shinji quickly grabbed the chopsticks, eyes shining with pure culinary joy. "Itadakimasu!"*

Shin, as always, ate silently, savoring the meal without feeling the need to comment.

At that moment, a new voice joined their conversation.

"I didn't expect to find you here already."

Shinji turned around, mouth still full.

In front of them, with his usual composed posture and impassive face, stood Aoi.

He had changed.

The features of his face were more defined, his gaze more mature. Yet one thing remained the same: his glasses, always meticulously perched on his nose.

Shinji raised a hand in greeting, still chewing.

Aoi shook his head slightly.

Shinji swallowed quickly and turned fully towards him. "So, joining us or just here to scold us?"

Aoi sat on the stool next to them, calmly raising a hand to order a bowl. "Technically my… nevermind, if I have to listen to your chatter all night, I might as well do it with food."

Shinji burst out laughing. "I knew you were smarter than you look!"

Kenji placed a bowl in front of Aoi, who picked up the chopsticks calmly.

Shinji observed him for a moment, then tilted his head. "Are you alone?"

Aoi paused briefly before taking a sip of broth. "No, they're coming."

Shinji raised an eyebrow. "'They'? Who?"

Aoi lowered his glasses slightly, giving him an exasperated look. "Who do you think?"

Shinji blinked, then a sly smile spread across his face. "Better finish the ramen quickly before the storm hits."

- - -

The road leading to Yuki Mizutani's store was wrapped in Kirigakure's usual morning fog. The air smelled of metal and rain, a familiar combination.

Kurara moved forward with measured steps, her boots brushing against puddles formed overnight.

The sign, though worn by time and moisture, was still there, unchanged:

"Mizutani's Weapon Shop."

The name, the place… everything remained the same.

Yet something felt different.

Kurara stopped before the door, letting the cool breeze caress her face.

She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The gentle chime of bells above the door broke the silence.

The metallic scent of iron and warmer smell of oiled wood filled the air.

The walls were as she remembered, lined with meticulously displayed weapons: kunai sharp as razors, perfectly balanced shuriken, swords crafted by generations of master smiths.

But something caught her eye.

Behind the counter.

A figure, relaxed yet assured.

Dark blue hair slightly disheveled.

A profile she knew all too well.

Kurara froze.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Her fingers instinctively tightened around the strap of her Kusarigama.

Ren...?

She couldn't speak.

Couldn't even breathe.

For a second—just one damned second—she was certain she saw him, as if nothing had changed.

Then she blinked.

And the figure vanished.

Behind the counter stood only Yuki, meticulously polishing a blade with precise movements.

Kurara remained still.

The breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding slowly released.

It had only been an illusion.

Just her mind playing tricks on her.

Only her desire to see him again.

Or at least… that's what she wanted to believe.

Yuki lifted her gaze.

For an instant, her face showed no reaction.

Then her lips curled into a gentle, almost imperceptible smile.

"Kurara…"

Kurara shook herself, forcing a small smile. "Hello, Aunt Yuki."

It was habit now. They weren't blood relatives, but Yuki felt like family.

The woman returned to polishing the blade. "Mission finished?"

Kurara nodded, masking the lingering sensation beneath her skin. "Yes. Nothing complicated, just some bandits."

Yuki gave a small nod, unsurprised. "Bandits always plague trade routes. They feel free to do as they please… until someone puts them in their place."

Kurara chuckled. "Yes, let's say we set them straight."

Yuki gently placed the blade down, its sharp edge gleaming under the lanterns.

Then she turned towards a wooden cupboard in the corner.

Kurara watched, slightly confused.

"I suppose you haven't eaten yet."

Kurara widened her eyes. "Oh, I… actually—"

But Yuki didn't give her time to finish.

She pulled out a neatly wrapped container, a perfectly prepared bento, and pushed it gently towards Kurara.

"I saved one for you."

Warmth filled Kurara's chest.

She slowly approached, delicately lifting it. "Thank you…"

Yuki gave her a lightly amused look. "Eat well; you'll need your strength."

Kurara smiled softly, taking a deep breath, and began eating.

- - -

The Fourth Mizukage's office was shrouded in soft light.

The windows, veiled by Kirigakure's eternal mist, allowed only a cold, faint glow to enter.

Standing a few steps from the desk, Suiren maintained a straight, professional stance, befitting a jonin.

"Mizukage-sama."

She placed the mission report onto the desk with a controlled gesture.

"The mission is complete."

Yagura raised his eyes slightly, silently acknowledging her presence.

"The bandit leader revealed a name before losing consciousness. The Torture Division is verifying the information," she added carefully.

Yagura leaned back slightly, tapping his fingers slowly against the desk, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

An entrepreneur...

It wasn't unheard of for bandits to be puppets, serving as pawns for influential figures hiding in plain sight. Such matters always complicated village politics.

But just as he was about to probe deeper—

A shadow appeared behind him.

Soundlessly.

Even Suiren, accustomed as she was to the ANBU's stealth, hadn't sensed the presence.

The masked shinobi leaned closer, whispering something inaudible into Yagura's ear.

Suiren caught the briefest flicker of reaction—a subtle narrowing of the Mizukage's eyes.

Then, just as quickly, his expression returned to absolute neutrality.

As though nothing had happened.

"I see," Yagura finally replied, his voice neutral, unreadable.

The ANBU disappeared as silently as he had appeared.

Yagura turned back to her.

"You've done well, Suiren."

His voice was unchanged, yet Suiren sensed the sudden disinterest in her report. His thoughts had clearly moved elsewhere.

"I'll read your report later. You may leave."

She bowed slightly. "As you wish, Mizukage-sama."

As she left the office, closing the door behind her, a question lingered stubbornly in her mind.

What could the ANBU have possibly said to cause such a reaction from the Mizukage?

*Itadakimasu (いただきます) is a Japanese phrase that translates 'to humbly receive'. Often said before eating a meal, the phrase is used as a way of showing gratitude and respect for everyone and everything that made the meal in front of you possible.

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