Kanae's boots struck the dirt path with a steady, unbroken rhythm as she moved through the morning crowd, her face blank, her movements sharp, like a machine set on a track.
The reinforced flak jacket weighed on her shoulders, heavier than usual, not only for its thicker plates and deeper pockets, but for what it meant: war.
She turned into a quieter alleyway between the compound and the Hokage Building, a shortcut toward the training grounds beyond the gates.
That was when she stopped.
Renjiro was there.
He leaned against the wall at the bend of the alley, arms crossed, as if he'd been waiting specifically for her.
His gray hair caught the light of the rising sun, his sword strapped across his back.
He stood squarely in the path as if he had been waiting, arms folded, expression unreadable.
His sword rested at his side, his stance casual enough, but his presence made it clear this wasn't a coincidence.
Kanae's pale eyes fixed on him for a moment.
Her hand twitched slightly near her sleeve, a reflex she quickly suppressed.
The air was silent. For a heartbeat, neither spoke.
But his waiting there, blocking the way, already said enough.
He never looked for her like this before.
Renjiro gave her a small signal with his hand, wordless, telling her to follow. Kanae paused, the faintest hesitation in her step, before turning into the valley with him. The noise of the main road faded, leaving only the two of them in the quiet space between the trees.
For a moment, Renjiro just studied her face. His eyes narrowed slightly in surprise.
Her expression—blank, cold, mechanical—was the same one she had worn half a year ago, before Ryusei started pulling at the walls she always kept around herself.
Seeing it again, Renjiro didn't need to ask. He already knew.
He exhaled slowly. "Did they warn you?"
Kanae's eyes flickered. She understood immediately what he meant.
If she had been summoned, then he had too.
She had suspected it already, but hearing him say it like that confirmed it.
She didn't answer right away. What caught her off guard wasn't the question itself but the way he asked it.
There was something like a test in his tone, as if he wanted to see where she stood, to weigh her before deciding anything himself.
That small detail unsettled her.
But hesitation didn't last. Her face hardened again, the cold mask slipping back into place.
"There will be no mistakes from now on," she said flatly. "I promised. Do your best too, and do everything they ask. Make sure you don't drag me down."
Her voice was calm, but inside, her chest twisted.
She could feel it; Renjiro was even less willing to move against Ryusei than she was.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have been the one testing her like this.
The thought cut at her, causing a wave of desperation inside.
Ryusei had done so much for her, helped her more than anyone else, and their bond was closer than anyone realized.
Yet after that meeting with ANBU, she hadn't hesitated to accept.
She couldn't.
She reminded herself again: she had her purpose.
She had her reality.
If she clung to soft delusions, no matter how warm and great they felt now, eventually they would shatter, and she would be the one crushed under them.
Better to kill that weakness early than let it kill her later.
She knew what fate awaited her otherwise.
There was simply no hope for anything else in this life.
Better a smaller pain of separation today, in the end, than endless burning suffering for the rest of her life.
Renjiro watched her carefully, but when her reply came out so cold, his shoulders eased.
He let out another sigh, heavier than before, and with it, something in his eyes dimmed.
Whatever doubt he had been holding about Ryusei, he let go of it there.
"Alright. You can go," he said finally. "I'll follow shortly. What we began, we'll finish. I won't create any problems."
His tone carried no bravado, no mockery. Just seriousness.
A quiet reminder of the mission they had been tied to since graduation, the one that always pointed toward Ryusei.
Kanae gave a small nod, turned, and walked out of the valley.
Renjiro stood in the valley a while longer, watching Kanae's back disappear into the street.
His expression was still, but his thoughts moved in quiet turbulence.
In fact, there were plenty of strong opponents to improve, even in ordinary war deployments.
Trading Ryusei's life for his ANBU aspirations wouldn't be impossible.
He had thought about it more than once.
And truthfully, Renjiro didn't need Hokage's techniques to keep advancing anyway.
The Hatake style was already a lifetime's worth of mastery.
He could spend the rest of his years sharpening just that blade and still never reach the ceiling that Sakumo had set.
But that was the problem.
This wasn't about Ryusei's life anymore; it was about his own.
The moment ANBU summoned him into that chamber, when they stripped away the veil and revealed Ryusei's Senju bloodline, Renjiro had understood.
If he wavered, if he so much as hesitated to follow their orders, the only end for him would be death.
He wasn't delusional.
He had felt their killing intent firsthand.
Just standing before the two Anbu seniors that summoned him had been enough to crush his lungs, to make his muscles tighten as if refusing to move.
That was only two men.
How many more like them were hidden in the depths of Konoha's machinery?
How many even stronger?
Renjiro was proud, yes.
But pride didn't mean blindness.
He knew how easy it would be for the village to snuff him out.
Squashing an ant required more effort than it would take them to erase him.
And what was Ryusei to him, really?
They hadn't been friends for six years in the Academy.
They hadn't been close when they first graduated together.
Only in these last few months had they started fighting side by side, speaking as comrades.
Was that brief closeness worth gambling his life against the whole village apparatus?
Renjiro clenched his fists, wrestling with it.
Some part of him whispered no, that would be insanity.
But another part wouldn't go quiet.
That stubborn thread of intuition, that gut feeling that Ryusei wasn't normal.
That maybe, just maybe, Ryusei would keep pulling off miracles, climbing so high the village would be forced to live with him.
And if that ever happened, then standing with him might even become possible.
Maybe, together, they could resist ANBU's chokehold, if only for a little while.
He couldn't explain why, but after watching Ryusei over these past months, his growth, his strange survivals, the way he kept turning hopeless fights, Renjiro felt a quiet optimism.
A feeling that Ryusei was destined to break through.
That was why he had waited here today.
His clan compound sat close enough to Kanae's route, and he had already timed out when she would likely pass.
He wanted to test her.
To see if she felt the same, to confirm whether she would share that silent gamble.
But she hadn't.
She had answered coldly, decisively.
She hadn't just accepted ANBU's leash; she had warned him not to resist, not to drag her down.
There was no hesitation in her.
Renjiro sighed again, the weight settling deeper in his chest.
"Don't blame me, Ryusei," he thought bitterly, a shade of melancholy in his eyes. "If even the woman closest to you won't stand by you… Then what right do you have to expect it of me? Against the whole world?"
With that final thought, Renjiro turned and walked back toward the training grounds, his steps heavy but steady, as if something inside him had just quietly died.