The walk back to Konoha felt less like a victory march and more like a retreat from a natural disaster.
Jiraiya and Tsunade were wrecked. The adrenaline of the fight with Orochimaru had long since evaporated, replaced by the crushing weight of a hangover that seemed to transcend biology.
Jiraiya walked with a stoop, groaning every time his sandal hit a rock. He smelled like ozone and stale sake sweating out of his pores, a bouquet of regret trailing five feet behind him.
Tsunade moved with mechanical stiffness, her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses she had produced from nowhere, looking like she would murder the sun if it shone too brightly. Every time a bird chirped, a vein throbbed visibly in her temple.
Anko wasn't much better. She was twitching, her hands opening and closing into fists. She looked like she needed a cigarette, a drink, and something breakable, in that order. She kept rubbing the back of her neck, digging her nails in as if scratching an itch that lived under the skin.
Naruto and I, on the other hand, were vibrating.
Maybe it was the residual buzz from the battle, or just the fact that we were teenagers and our batteries recharged faster, but we were practically bouncing down the main road.
"We're back!" Naruto yelled, throwing his arms up as the massive green gates of Konoha came into view.
At the guard station, Kotetsu and Izumo- currently engaged in a game of cards- snapped to attention so fast I thought they might break their necks. They saw the Sannin approaching and nearly teleported to their posts, went rigid, staring straight ahead, chests puffed out in full guard mode. They didn't even blink.
A single playing card fluttered sadly from the table to the dirt, the only casualty of their panic.
We walked past them. The silence was heavy.
Naruto leaned in toward me, lowering his voice to a stage whisper.
"They look scared," he noted. "They must not know Tsunade is just a granny with a gambling problem."
I leaned in, mirroring his posture. "They must not know Jiraiya is just a gigantic pervert who writes porn."
We both paused.
We looked at the backs of the two Sannin.
Jiraiya, who had summoned a toad the size of a mountain.
Tsunade, who had cracked the earth's crust with one heel. The phantom vibration of that stomp still rattled in my molars.
"Well," Naruto whispered, his eyes widening. "She does punch really ha—"
"And his toad is hug—" I added.
"Wait—"
"GAMABUNTA," we said in unison, shuddering.
"Respect the Sannin," I decided quickly.
"Yeah," Naruto agreed. "Respect the Sannin."
"When they are in earshot."
"Exactly."
Naruto put his fist up.
I tapped it with mine and smiled.
They were halfway down the main street when a shadow detached itself from a nearby alleyway.
"Man," a familiar, lazy voice drawled. "You guys are loud. I could hear you from the dango shop."
Naruto skid to a halt. Leaning against a wall, looking bored out of his mind, was Shikamaru Nara. He blended into the shade so perfectly he looked less like a person and more like a accumulation of apathy.
But he looked different.
Naruto squinted. It wasn't the hair—still the pineapple. It wasn't the expression—still asleep. It was the chest.
Shikamaru was wearing a flak jacket. A darker green than the standard Genin gear, with pockets for scrolls. It still had that stiff, new-fabric smell, crisp lines that hadn't been softened by napping in the grass yet. A Chunin vest.
"Whoa!" Naruto pointed a finger. "Shikamaru! Why are you wearing that? You look like a mossy rock!"
Shikamaru sighed, pushing off the wall. "Troublesome. It's the uniform. I got promoted."
Naruto's jaw dropped. "Promoted?! When?!"
"While you guys were gone," Shikamaru shrugged. "Apparently, forfeit or not, I showed 'command aptitude' or whatever. So now I have more paperwork."
Sylvie stepped forward. She looked at the vest, then at Shikamaru, and smiled—a real smile, not her usual anxious one.
"Green suits you," she said.
Shikamaru blinked. He looked away, scratching the back of his head, his ears turning slightly pink. "It's heavy," he muttered, deflecting. "Just more stuff to carry." But he didn't slouch under it.
Naruto felt a sudden, hot spike of jealousy. Not about Sylvie—about the gear.
"Why is your hitai-ate so shiny?" Naruto demanded, leaning in close to Shikamaru's forehead. "Did they give you a new one? Is it special Chunin metal?"
He gasped, a horrific thought striking him.
"WAIT," Naruto yelled, clutching his own head. "ARE OURS FAKES?!"
He ripped his blue headband off his forehead. He clamped it between his teeth and bit down hard, trying to test the metal like he'd seen gold prospectors do in movies.
CRUNCH.
"OW!" Naruto yelped, rubbing his jaw. "Mmhitsreal..." He tasted iron and embarrassment.
Sylvie put a hand over her mouth, laughing loud and clear. Even Shikamaru smirked.
"Idiot," Shikamaru said. "It's the same metal. I just polished mine."
Naruto put his headband back on, tying it tight. "Whatever! Why were you the only one who got promoted? I beat Neji! Shino beat that puppet guy! You gave up!"
Shikamaru sighed, looking up at the clouds drifting over the Hokage monument.
"In a race between a lion and a deer," Shikamaru recited, sounding bored, "the deer will often win."
Naruto blinked. "Huh?"
"Because," Shikamaru continued, "a lion runs for food. A deer runs for its life."
Naruto stared at him. He looked at Sylvie. "What's his point? Is he hungry?"
Sylvie rolled her eyes. "He's saying, Naruto, that purpose is more important than need. The lion needs to eat, but the deer has to survive. He watched a cloud drift by that looked vaguely like a shogi piece, his eyes tracking the strategy of the wind. Motivation dictates the outcome. He showed he could think like a deer."
Naruto looked even more confused. He pointed between the two of them.
"Is this like a secret nerd language?" he accused. "Are you guys speaking in code?"
THWACK.
THWACK.
Sylvie and Shikamaru moved in perfect sync. They both chopped Naruto on the top of the head at the exact same moment.
"OW!" Naruto shouted, holding his head. "I WAS ONLY JOKING A LITTLE!"
The double impact resonated inside his skull like a temple bell.
I rubbed my hand. Naruto's skull was unnervingly hard.
Behind us, Tsunade and Shizune had stopped. They weren't interrupting. They were just watching.
Tsunade stood there, dust on her haori, looking at the three of us—Naruto yelling, Shikamaru looking annoyed but present, me adjusting my glasses. She looked at the village infrastructure around us, the busy streets, the peace that persisted despite the invasion. Her posture shifted, the hangover slump straightening into something that looked suspiciously like responsibility.
She didn't say anything. She didn't make a speech about the Will of Fire.
She just adjusted her sunglasses, hitched Tonton higher in Shizune's arms, and turned toward the administration tower.
"Let's go, Shizune," she said quietly. "We have work to do."
"Right!" Shizune chirped, hurrying after her.
I watched them go. The Sannin were back. The village still needed leader.
"Oh, right," I thought, the humor fading as I remembered where we had to go next. "The hospital."
I turned to Naruto.
"Come on," I said softly. "Let's go see the others."
The victory lap ended there, replaced by the phantom smell of antiseptic and the memory of who hadn't walked back with us.