By the time we hit the fog, I already had a headache.
Not the normal "Naruto has been yelling in my ear for twenty minutes straight" headache. That was familiar, almost comforting. This one started behind my eyes and crawled down my spine, like the air itself was pressing in.
The little fishing boat rocked under us as we slid through gray mist. Water slapped against the hull in slow, miserable beats. I sat near the middle, knees tucked up, glasses fogging every three seconds.
Naruto was at the bow, of course, leaning so far forward I was ninety percent sure he was going to fall in.
"So this is the Land of Waves?" he shouted into the fog. "Where's the bridge? Where's the people? Where's the—"
"Inside voices," I muttered. "The mist can hear you."
He ignored me. Naturally.
Sasuke stood a few steps back from him, hands in his pockets, expression somewhere between bored and mildly offended by humidity. Kakashi leaned against the side of the boat like driftwood with a mask, reading one of his dumb books like we weren't surrounded by horror movie lighting.
I closed my eyes for a second and reached out with my chakra.
Konoha felt like sunlight through leaves—busy, bright, crowded with little sparks. This place was… not that. Everything around us was heavy and dim, like the colors had been washed out and left to dry in the rain. The faint signatures I could pick up from the shoreline felt thin and frayed, like people were burning their energy just on existing.
I opened my eyes and pushed my glasses up my nose. "This place feels like a group project where everyone already gave up."
Naruto twisted around. "Huh?"
"Nothing. Just… don't fall in. I'm not ruining my seals to fish you out."
"You totally would!" he said. "You're my teammate!"
"Yeah, yeah. I'd do it. I'd complain the whole time, but I'd do it."
He grinned, satisfied, and turned back to the fog.
Tazuna sat near the back of the boat, clutching a bottle and looking like he'd aged ten years since we'd left Konoha. His chakra had a constant jitter to it, fear picked into pieces and wrapped around cynical bravado.
"We're almost there," he said. "Try not to scream when you see how bad it is."
"Reassuring," I muttered.
Kakashi flipped a page. "Manage your expectations," he said mildly. "Always helpful."
The village finally appeared out of the mist like someone had drawn it with three pencil strokes and then given up.
Wooden houses sagged under patched roofs. Docks leaned at angles that made my knees hurt just looking at them. A couple of boats bobbed nearby, half-rotten. People moved along the shore like ghosts—heads down, shoulders slumped, eyes flicking up just long enough to register us before dropping again.
Naruto hopped off the boat first, hands on his hips, as if sheer enthusiasm could physically improve the economy.
"Wow!" he said. "This place is… uh…"
He trailed off.
"Rustic?" I offered, climbing onto the dock behind him.
"Depressing," Sasuke said flatly.
He wasn't wrong.
I watched a woman hauling a basket of fish walk past a group of men sitting on crates. They didn't catcall her. They didn't say anything. They just stared with the slow, resigned look of people waiting for bad news they'd already heard three times.
My chakra sense hummed with it. The whole place felt like a low, gray bruise.
We followed Tazuna through narrow streets. The smell of salt, fish, and cheap liquor clung to everything. Once, a kid watching from a window flinched when Naruto waved at him and vanished like a spooked animal.
Naruto frowned. "What's their problem?"
"They're scared," I said quietly.
"Of us?"
"Of everything."
He made a face, but he stopped shouting for a whole thirty seconds. That's basically meditation for him.
Tazuna led us to a small two-story house near the edge of the water. It looked better maintained than most—clean doorframe, swept front step. When he slid the door open and called, "I'm home!" the warmth that hit me was such a contrast to the street it almost hurt.
"Tou-san?"
A woman stepped into view, wiping her hands on a towel. She had long dark hair, kind eyes, and tired chakra. The kind of tired that wasn't about sleep, but about holding everything together day after day.
"This is Tsunami, my daughter," Tazuna said, gesturing. "These are the ninja from Konoha."
"We're super strong!" Naruto said immediately, puffing out his chest. "I'm Uzumaki Naruto, future Hokage!"
"Tch," Sasuke said, which translated to "Uchiha Sasuke, deeply unimpressed."
I gave a small bow. "Sylvie. New genin, aspiring medical nin, one concussion away from quitting and opening an ink shop."
Tsunami blinked, then smiled faintly. "Thank you for coming all this way. Please, come in. You must be hungry."
Naruto practically teleport-shuffled out of his sandals.
The inside of the house was simple but clean. Worn floors. Low table. The faint, comforting smell of rice cooking.
We settled around the table while Tsunami brought out bowls. Naruto vibrated like a tuning fork.
As we ate, Tazuna explained more about Gato. We'd heard the basics already, but hearing it in this room, with the sound of the ocean just outside the window, made it land differently.
"He owns everything," Tazuna said. "The shipping, the merchants, the thugs. He squeezes us dry and throws away anyone who can't pay."
"Like a bandit king," Naruto said around a mouthful of food.
"More like a parasite," I said. "Bandits at least admit what they are."
Tsunami gave me a startled look, then nodded once.
Before anyone could follow that up, small footsteps thudded down the hall.
A boy padded into the room, maybe a few years younger than us. He had shaggy dark hair, a round face, and a hat pulled low over his eyes. I didn't need my chakra sense to feel the storm cloud around him, but when I checked anyway, it was all tightly coiled fear and bitterness, like a rubber band stretched too far.
"Inari," Tsunami said gently. "Say hello. These are the ninja protecting Grandpa."
Inari glanced at us. At our hitai-ate. At Naruto's wide grin.
Then he scoffed.
"What, those losers?"
Naruto choked. "Hey! I'm not a loser!"
Inari snorted and looked away. "You're just going to die like everyone else who tried to fight Gato."
The room went very still.
I watched the words hit Naruto like a physical blow. His chakra flared hot—anger, hurt, that old echoing loneliness. The expression on his face was one I recognized way too well: How dare you say out loud what I'm already terrified of.
He slammed his bowl down. "Listen, you jerk, I'm not gonna die! I'm gonna beat that Gato guy and then I'm gonna be Hokage and—"
"Enough," Kakashi said mildly, not looking up from his book. "You'll spill your rice."
"This isn't about rice!" Naruto snapped.
"Yes, but it will be if Tsunami has to clean it up," Kakashi replied. "Priorities."
Tsunami winced. "Inari, don't be rude. They came all this way."
Inari's shoulders hunched. For a second, his chakra flickered—shame, grief, something raw, then it snapped back tight.
"You don't get it," he muttered. "None of you get it."
He turned and stomped back down the hall.
Naruto half-rose to go after him. I slid a hand onto his arm.
"Let him sulk," I said quietly. "It's his house. He gets priority sulking rights."
"But—"
"Trust me. You don't want to argue trauma math with a kid who thinks hope is a scam."
He frowned at me, confused and annoyed, but he sat.
The rest of dinner went quieter.
Afterward, Kakashi claimed fatigue and vanished to "rest his chakra." Sasuke retreated to whatever brooding corner he'd decided was his. Naruto wandered outside to "get some air," which probably meant practice or yelling at seagulls.
I helped Tsunami with the dishes because if I sat still too long, my brain started replaying the look on Inari's face.
The kitchen was small, warm, and steamy. Tsunami washed; I dried.
"Thank you," she said suddenly. "For helping."
"It's fine. Consider it part of the mission. Threat level: soap bubbles."
She huffed a quiet laugh. "You're not what I expected from a kunoichi."
"That's good, right? Or bad? I can adjust my brand."
"You speak like…" She hesitated, searching for the word. "Like someone older."
"That's just what anxiety sounds like when you give it vocabulary," I said.
Her smile twitched again, then faded. "I'm sorry about Inari. He shouldn't have said those things to your friend."
"Naruto's heard worse," I said. "He'll get over it. Loudly. Possibly with more ramen."
She shook her head. "Inari used to be such a bright child. He believed things could change. That heroes would come." Her hands tightened on a bowl. "Then Gato took someone very important from him. From all of us."
I felt the ache in her chakra at that, deep and slow, like an old wound that never healed quite right.
"He's scared," I said softly. "Fear makes people say cruel things. Especially to people who still have the thing they lost."
She looked at me, surprised.
"Hope," I clarified. "He sees Naruto and it just… hurts."
Tsunami looked down at the soapy water. "You talk about feelings very easily."
"It's cheaper than therapy," I said. "Also, I cheat."
I tapped my temple, then my chest. "Little bit of weird chakra sensitivity. I don't read minds or anything," I added quickly. "I just… feel colors. Tones. Like emotional weather."
She blinked. "Emotional weather."
"Yeah. This place?" I gestured vaguely toward the village. "Gray overcast with a hundred percent chance of despair."
She gave a weak laugh. "You're not wrong."
I set the last bowl on the drying rack and leaned my hips against the counter.
"For what it's worth," I said, "Naruto wasn't lying. He really will fight for you. For this place. Even if it's stupid. Especially if it's stupid."
Tsunami's eyes softened. "You seem very sure."
"Trust me," I said. "Being stubborn is his primary skill."
She smiled, then bowed her head slightly. "I'm grateful you're here, Sylvie-chan."
I felt my face go warm at the -chan. It still did that sometimes. I wasn't sure if it would ever stop.
"We'll do our best," I said. "I can't promise it'll be enough. But we'll try."
It wasn't the heroic answer. It was the honest one.
Later, when the house had gone mostly quiet, I stepped out onto the small back porch. The air was cool and damp, the fog curling around the edges of the yard like it was trying to sneak inside.
I could hear Naruto somewhere up on the hill, shouting practice kiai into the darkness. Sasuke's chakra was a steady flame further off. Kakashi's was a dim, contained ember upstairs, dampened by exhaustion.
Inari's room glowed faintly with lamplight. His chakra was still that tight, bitter knot.
I thought about the first time I died. About lying in the woods, staring at my own blood, thinking no one was coming. The universe had decided something different for me, randomly, unfairly.
No one had done that for this village.
I dug around in my pouch, fingers brushing tags and ink sticks, until I found a blank slip of paper.
"Not real magic," I murmured to myself as I drew. "Just art therapy with extra steps."
I sketched a tiny, simple spiral—a leaf, a wave, a little rising sun. Nothing fancy. Just something that said, in shape language: It is possible for tomorrow to be slightly less awful than today.
I let a trickle of chakra soak into the lines. Enough to make it warm to the touch when held. A comfort seal. Placebo with extra glitter.
Padding quietly down the hall, I stopped outside Inari's door. I could hear faint sniffles.
I didn't knock. I just found a little nail by the frame and pressed the tag onto it. The paper fluttered once, then settled.
"Goodnight, small, angry child," I whispered. "May your emotional weather improve by, like, one percent."
Then I went back to my futon, lay down, stared at the ceiling, and listened to the ocean rage softly against the shore.
The Land of Waves felt like a story already halfway to tragedy.
But for the first time since I'd woken up in this world, I had the sense that maybe, just maybe, we'd get to nudge the ending.