The forest path stretched long and narrow, dirt crunching beneath their sandals as they followed Tsume's lead. Mist curled in the distance, the faint tang of salt riding the air as they drew closer to the Kirigakure border.
Kazuki had already decided this was a death march.
"Cannon fodder," he muttered under his breath, swinging his pack over one shoulder. "That's what we are. They say 'information transfer' and 'patrol duty,' but we all know what that means."
Azula, walking just behind him, smirked. "Means we'll get to see how many ways Konoha can use us as bait before they're satisfied."
"Ah," Kazuki clicked his tongue, "finally some honesty. Refreshing.I thought you will keep talking about becoming a future legend."
Yugao, sandwiched awkwardly between them and Tsume, frowned. "You two shouldn't talk like that. This is serious."
"It's always serious," Azula said dryly, then gave her a side glance. "You'll learn, little miss civilian prodigy. The trick is to laugh, otherwise the dread chews holes in your stomach."
Yugao didn't reply, just tightened her grip on her pack straps. They're too calm. Or maybe too bitter. I can't tell anymore.
The air between them hummed with tension—not just from the looming mission, but something older. Something that clung like a shadow every time Tsume barked orders or gave the twins an extra glare.
It was Kazuki who leaned slightly toward Yugao, voice low and sly. "Hey, Yugao. Aren't you curious?"
She blinked. "About what?"
Azula answered for him, tone sharper: "Why our dear sensei still looks at us like we're vermin she stepped on."
Yugao stiffened. She was curious. She'd noticed it from the beginning, the way Tsume's scowl deepened whenever Kazuki or Azula smirked, how her words carried extra bite for them compared to her. It had softened over the last few months, but never disappeared.
Kazuki gave her a nudge with his elbow. "Go on. Ask her. You're the favorite. She'll actually answer you."
"I—" Yugao hesitated, glancing up at Tsume's broad back and Kuromaru padding silently at her side. The Inuzuka woman radiated strength and impatience even when she wasn't speaking. But the twins were watching her expectantly, and truthfully… she wanted to know.
Taking a deep breath, she raised her voice. "Tsume-sensei?"
"What?" Tsume didn't slow her stride, didn't look back.
"I… I wanted to ask—why do you dislike the Uchiha so much?"
For the first time since they'd set out that morning, Tsume stopped. Kuromaru halted with her, ears twitching. The two Uchiha looked smugly triumphant; Yugao felt her throat tighten.
Tsume turned, her dark eyes narrowing at Yugao first, then flicking to the twins. "So. They put you up to it, huh?"
Yugao flushed. "…Maybe. But I want to know too."
For a moment, Tsume said nothing. The only sound was the wind rustling through the trees. Then she exhaled sharply through her nose, crouched, and scratched behind Kuromaru's ear.
"You really want to know?"
"Yes," Yugao said quietly.
Tsume's gaze shifted to Kazuki and Azula. "And you?"
Kazuki folded his arms, smirking. "Enlighten us. Maybe then we'll stop being treated like criminals on parole."
Azula's eyes glinted like cut obsidian. "I'd like to hear which imaginary sin we're paying for."
Tsume's jaw flexed. Then, finally, she spoke.
"It was during the Academy," she began, voice flat but carrying an edge. "We were kids, same as you now. Training spars, clumsy fights. Nothing serious—supposed to be nothing serious."
Kuromaru whined low in his throat, and Tsume's hand tightened against his fur.
"One of your clan—an older boy. Stronger, faster. He wasn't careful. A strike went wrong. Kuromaru stepped in to protect me, like always. Took the blow right to the face."
Her voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "He lost his eye. Just like that. One moment whole, the next…"
Yugao's stomach twisted. She looked at Kuromaru, at his proud posture, and imagined him younger, smaller, yelping in pain as a child.
Tsume's lip curled. "The boy didn't even apologize. Not a word. Just… the next day, a fancy box of mochi left on my desk, with 'sorry' written on it in calligraphy. Like tossing scraps to a stray."
She spat the word. "That was my partner. My family. And all I got was sweets and ink on paper."
Her eyes bored into Kazuki and Azula. "So you want to know why I don't trust Uchiha? Why I don't like the sight of those eyes? That's why. You don't care about anyone outside your precious clan. Even when you hurt them, it's a box of treats and back to business."
Yugao's breath caught. She understood why Tsume was furious. If someone maimed her closest friend and didn't say a word? She'd burn with hatred too.
But beside her, Kazuki's expression had sharpened—not softened.
He spoke slowly, as if choosing each word. "So let me get this straight. He didn't apologize?"
Tsume glared. "Not once."
Kazuki's mouth twitched, halfway to a laugh. "Of course he did. He gave you mochi."
Tsume blinked, her anger breaking into confusion. "…What?"
Azula stepped forward, her tone cool, aristocratic, and cutting. "It's called Silent Apology. A tradition of our clan for generations. When words are inadequate, or shame too heavy, you give mochi. It means—'I know I wronged you. Please accept this, without spectacle, without false words.' It is as sincere an apology as we have."
Kazuki added, voice laced with sarcasm, "But I guess if you don't bother to learn another clan's ways, it just looks like an afternoon snack."
Tsume's nostrils flared. "You're saying he thought that was enough? That one box of sweets was supposed to make up for Kuromaru's eye?"
"No," Azula snapped. "We're saying he apologized. You're the one who decided to turn it into arrogance."
Yugao flinched. "Azula—"
But Tsume had already stepped closer, teeth bared. "Don't you dare twist this on me. My partner bled, screamed, lost an eye, and all I got was silence. You think I care about your pretty little customs? An apology is supposed to be spoken. From the heart. Not wrapped in sugar and paper."
Kazuki's eyes narrowed, voice dropping to a razor's edge. "And you think your way is the only right way. Figures."
For a moment, it looked like Tsume might actually strike him. Kuromaru growled low, hackles raised.
Yugao stepped between them, heart pounding. "Stop! Please!"
The forest stilled.
Yugao turned, first to Tsume. "I… I can see why you're angry. Really, I can. If I thought someone hurt my partner and didn't care, I'd never forgive them either." She swallowed hard, then looked at the twins. "But I've been to your compound. I've seen how different you are, how your traditions work. The Silent Apology—it's real. I don't think that boy was mocking you, Tsume-sensei. I think he really believed he was showing how sorry he was."
Tsume's expression flickered, just for a second.
Azula crossed her arms, hissing, "And yet she judged all of us, every single Uchiha, for one misunderstanding."
"Because my partner only has one eye!" Tsume shot back. "That's not a misunderstanding. That's loss. And loss doesn't care about your excuses."
Silence fell heavy.
In Kazuki's mind, thoughts churned. So that's it. Not malice, not hatred for the sake of hatred. She's just… hurt. She lost something precious, and instead of closure, she got a tradition she didn't understand.
He clenched his jaw. Still doesn't make it fair. Still doesn't mean we're guilty by blood.Taking her anger out on some kids just because they are from same clan is just petty.
Aloud, he said simply, "Believe what you want. Just don't pretend we're the ones who wronged you."
Tsume turned sharply away. "Doesn't matter. You wanted the truth. Now you have it."
She started walking again, Kuromaru trotting silently beside her.
The rest of the journey passed in uneasy quiet. Yugao's mind buzzed with both sides, her heart aching for Tsume's pain but also frustrated at the unfairness the two bore. Azula muttered under her breath, seething. Kazuki stared ahead, his face unreadable, though his thoughts burned hot.
When the mist thickened, carrying the metallic tang of sea spray, Tsume finally lifted her nose to the wind.
"We're here," she said curtly.
And there it was: the first Konoha encampment at the Kirigakure border, tents rising like teeth in the fog, shinobi moving briskly in armor and patrol lines. The warfront.
Their personal grudges would have to share space with something much larger now.