The early morning sun rose again, casting its golden light over the land, symbolizing rebirth and new beginnings.
Yet today, the Hidden Grass Village—normally stirring to life with the sunrise—had become nothing but a smoldering ruin.
In one quiet corner of the decimated village, a young boy from the Uchiha clan sat in silence. Blood stained his clothes and skin, but his expression remained calm as he looked at the pink-haired girl tending to the wounds on his arm.
Last night marked his first time on the battlefield. As expected, he had lacked experience. But thanks to his strong mental fortitude, he had quickly adapted to the chaos and violence of war.
Even so, injury had been unavoidable.
"All done. You should recover in a few days," Sakura said, tying off the final bandage with practiced hands. "You'll need to come to me for medicine and dressing changes until it heals."
Sasuke gave a simple nod. "Got it. Thanks, Sakura."
He looked at her with a blank but steady gaze.
"What's with the thanks? Aren't we teammates?" Sakura replied with a faint smile, shaking her head. But her heart stirred with a hint of unease as she looked at the boy before her, his expression calm—too calm.
She hoped what she thought she saw last night wasn't real...
"Well, rest up for now. I have other patients to treat," she added, picking up her medical kit and quickly heading toward the cluster of wounded nearby.
The dark-haired boy watched her leave until her figure vanished from sight. Then, he lowered his gaze to the neatly bandaged wound on his arm before leaning against the wall and closing his eyes for a moment of solitude.
He was an avenger. Until he destroyed that man, all emotions were unnecessary burdens.
This was fine. This distance... this solitude... was just right.
---
There was an unspoken rule among ninja: no matter what, civilians were never to be harmed.
Even if two rival shinobi were locked in a life-or-death battle, they couldn't involve innocent bystanders. To do so was to invite condemnation from every shinobi nation.
So now, the civilians of the Hidden Grass Village were all hiding in their homes, trembling. Supply points had been set up, guarded by ninja, where the villagers could retrieve food and daily necessities. Whether they dared to step outside to claim them, however, was another matter.
Sakura made no comment on this. She was focused on her task—healing the wounded.
With the strength and skills of the battle-hardened Sakura from the Fourth Great Ninja War, her medical ninjutsu had reached exceptional levels. She could handle critical injuries with precision and speed, stabilizing patients in record time.
At this point, across all of Konoha—and likely the entire ninja world—there were only two people whose medical abilities rivaled hers: Tsunade, of course, and perhaps Karin.
"You've got a remarkable young woman on your team," said Kurotsuchi's father, Kitsuchi, standing nearby. He was watching Sakura from a distance as she worked with unwavering focus.
"Yeah... Sakura is definitely exceptional," Kakashi replied with a weary sigh as he sat on a nearby stone, clearly exhausted.
"Once this battle's over, I'm heading back to my country," Kitsuchi said, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Next time we meet, try not to be missing any parts."
Kakashi gave a dry chuckle. "I'll take that as a blessing."
After a night of intense fighting, his body ached and fatigue clung to his bones. But rest was a luxury he couldn't yet afford.
Just then, a large, calloused hand appeared in front of him, holding out a small clay flask.
Kakashi blinked. "What's this?"
"A gift," Kitsuchi replied. "Food is scarce in the Land of Earth. We distill our liquor from what little grain we can spare, which makes it rare and precious. That bottle there? One of my personal treasures. Been saving it for years."
He smiled, a rare warmth on his battle-hardened face. "Think of it as a little something to help you stay strong."
Kakashi looked down at the flask, then back up at Kitsuchi. His expression turned complex.
Once, he had seen the Iwagakure shinobi as mortal enemies.
Now here he was, being offered a treasured gift by one of them.
He patted his vest, searching for something to offer in return, but came up empty. He chuckled awkwardly. "I... don't really have anything on me to give you back."
Kitsuchi waved it off. "Don't worry about it. If you really want to repay me, just buy me a drink the next time we meet."
So simple. So straightforward.
Kakashi smiled and stood, extending a hand to the broad-shouldered man in front of him. "Then it's settled. Next time we meet, I'll treat you to a drink."
Kitsuchi laughed heartily, his voice booming. He took Kakashi's hand and gave it a firm shake. "Looking forward to it!"
The tension in Kakashi's heart eased, just a little. Kitsuchi was unexpectedly easy to get along with.
"Dad!" a voice called from a distance.
It was Kurotsuchi. She waved from afar, while Akatsuchi had already shouldered his travel pack. Ōnoki, the former Tsuchikage, sat atop the seat strapped to Akatsuchi's back, watching everything silently.
"It's time," Kitsuchi said simply.
"Safe travels," Kakashi replied, raising a hand.
Kitsuchi didn't turn around, merely raised a hand in acknowledgment before walking away without hesitation.
Kakashi watched the group depart. He looked down at the small flask in his hand, uncorked it, and took a sip.
The taste hit him like a punch—spicy, fiery, scorching all the way down his throat to his stomach.
"Now that's strong," he muttered.
He recapped the flask and tucked it carefully into his ninja pouch.
That one sip was enough. The rest would be saved for the next time he shared a drink with Kitsuchi.
---
The operation had unfolded with brutal precision.
Under cover of night, the allied forces launched a lightning-fast strike on the Hidden Grass Village, seizing it in a matter of hours.
According to plan, five hundred shinobi were to remain behind to hold the village. The other half would be supplied by Iwagakure to keep order and distribute aid.
The commander in charge of the stationed forces was a member of the Nara clan. After several hours of rapid triage and regrouping, he was now going over logistical matters with Kakashi.
Kakashi's new task: escort the excess soldiers—including the severely wounded—back to Konoha.
The Nara shinobi nodded toward the line of stretchers. "Take them home."
Kakashi met his gaze and nodded firmly. "I will. Take care of yourself."
"You too."
Among those heading back was Sakura, walking alongside the caravan of injured.
From the start of the operation to now, barely twenty-four hours had passed. They had marched to battle, fought, and were now returning without so much as a night's rest.
Sakura, as a combat-capable medical ninja, had been going non-stop since they'd left Konoha. She hadn't even had time to sit, let alone sleep.
Kakashi glanced over at her pale face and tired eyes. "We've got a long way until we reach the village. Why don't you rest in the carriage for a bit?"
Sakura looked at him, then nodded without hesitation. She climbed into one of the wagons—usually reserved for the injured.
Inside, she was slightly surprised to see Sasuke already there, sitting silently in one corner.
Still, she said nothing of it. She simply looked at him and said, "Scoot over. I need some space."
---
(End of Chapter)