We crossed the border marker just as the sun began to bleed orange across the tree line.
The air finally smelled like pine and dirt instead of oil and chemical waste.
I took a deep breath, the resinous scent scrubbing the inside of my lungs like a wire brush clearing away the smog.
Anko was walking point, her shoulders tight. Every step away from the Sound Village loosened a knot in her spine, but I knew the memory of the factory was going to stick to us for a long time.
A cicada buzzed in a nearby pine tree—a singular, organic sound that felt shockingly loud after days of industrial grinding.
"Civilian ahead," Asuma said, his voice low. We all tensed. After the last three days, "Civilian" usually meant "Spy" or "Trap." A young man stood by a patch of wild mugwort, stuffing bundles into a worn burlap sack. The bitter, earthy scent of the crushed leaves wafted toward us—medicinal and homely, totally out of place in a war zone. He wore a simple tunic and had a dark birthmark on his nose.
He looked up, startled, dropping a handful of herbs.
He saw the hitai-ate first. His face lit up. It wasn't fear.
It was pure, unfiltered hope. "Leaf Ninja!" he gasped, scrambling up the embankment.
Dirt crumbled under his fingernails as he climbed, but he didn't seem to notice, his eyes locked on the metal spirals on our foreheads.
"You guys are Konoha-nin, right?"
Anko stepped forward, blocking us. "State your business."
The guy didn't even flinch at her tone. He wiped his dirty hands on his pants and bowed clumsily. "Sorry! I'm Urushi. I run the orphanage a few miles south. I was just—"
He looked past Anko, scanning our faces with a desperate intensity. "I try to ask every patrol I see."
"Ask what?" Asuma grunted, lighting a cigarette.
"My brother," Urushi said. "He's a ninja. Like you guys. He's been on a long-term mission for... well, for years now. But I figure, if anyone knows where he is, it's other shinobi." A breeze ruffled his tunic, carrying the smell of dried sweat and river water—the scent of honest work.
I relaxed a fraction. Just a guy looking for family.
"What's his name?" Naruto asked, stepping around Anko. "We know loads of people! Is he cool? Does he have a big sword?"
Urushi laughed. It was a warm, scratching sound. "No, nothing like that. He's... he's pretty quiet. Shy, actually. A medic."
Urushi smiled, looking off into the distance.
"He's clumsy, too. Always overthinking things. But he's the kindest person I know. He used to heal the injured birds we found in the yard."
He mimed cupping a small bird in his hands, his calloused palms gentle and open, utterly unlike the surgical precision I remembered.
I frowned. The image didn't fit anyone I knew. "He wears glasses," Urushi added, tapping the bridge of his nose. "Round ones. Way too big for his face. They belonged to our Mother, and he never takes them off. He says they help him see the world clearly."
The setting sun caught the lenses of my own frames, blinding me for a split second with a glare that felt like an accusation.
The air left the clearing.
The temperature dropped ten degrees in a single second.
Anko went statue-still.
Asuma's eyes widened just a fraction.
I felt my stomach drop through the floor and keep going until it hit the center of the earth.
Round glasses.Medic.Quiet. I thought of the man standing in the purple smoke. The man who had surgically dismantled Anbu with a smile. The man who looked at human beings and saw spare parts. The man who had sneered, "Playtime is over, kids."
The phantom smell of cold antiseptic and coagulating blood rose in my throat, choking me.
"His name is Kabuto," Urushi said, beaming. "Yakushi Kabuto. Have you seen him?"
Naruto opened his mouth. "He..." Naruto started, his brow furrowing. "
Wait, the four-eyed guy? But he's—"
"No," Asuma interrupted. His voice was sharp. Final. He stepped forward, putting a hand on Naruto's shoulder, silencing him. He looked at Urushi. He looked at the hope on that man's face—the absolute, unwavering belief that his brother was a hero. Smoke curled from between Asuma's lips, a gray screen meant to hide the pity in his eyes.
Asuma forced a smile. It was the fakest smile I had ever seen.
"We haven't met anyone fitting that description," Asuma lied. "The Kabuto we know... isn't clumsy. And I wouldn't call him kind."
Urushi's face fell, just a little. "Ah. Must be a different guy. It's a common name."
He picked up his sack of herbs, adjusting the strap.
"Well, if you see him," Urushi said, forcing a grin back onto his face. "Tell him to come home soon, okay? It's past 9 o'clock. His bed is made."
The words hung in the air, heavy and fragile, like a soap bubble waiting to burst.
He waved and started walking south, back toward the orphanage.
His sandals scuffed against the gravel—a lonely, rhythmic sound that faded too quickly into the twilight.
Back toward a bed that had been empty for a decade. We watched him go.
"Why did you stop me?" Naruto hissed at Asuma, looking confused. "That guy is Kabuto's brother!"
We all took a breath. Even Naruto hesistated on his next words.
"We should tell him...Kabuto is a traitor. He..." Naruto's fists tighten until his knuckles are white, the leather of his gloves creaked, strained to the breaking point by the tension in his grip. "He made me believe he was our friend. He's a liar. His brother should know who Kabuto really is!"
"And destroy him with the knowledge?" Anko asked quietly. She was staring at Urushi's retreating back, her expression unreadable.
"That man is waiting for a brother who doesn't exist anymore, Naruto," she said.
"The boy he remembers is dead. Let him keep the ghost. It's kinder than the truth."
Anko looked away, her hand unconsciously drifting to the Cursed Seal on her neck, tracing the scar of her own broken trust.
I looked at the ground.
He used to heal injured birds, Urushi had said.
I thought of the bird in the forest, trapped in Kidomaru's wire web.
I thought of Sasuke in the hospital, trapped in his brother's shadow.
I thought of myself, and Naruto -our friends, here, and the new ones we've made along the way -and swallowed.
"Yeah," I whispered to myself, adjusting my own glasses. "We haven't seen that guy at all."
I sighed, watching Urushi disappear into the forest, 'At least...not the one you remember...'
The sun finally dipped below the horizon, and the shadows of the trees stretched out, long and distorting, covering the road in gray.