The market street buzzed with noise—vendors shouting over each other, shinobi passing through in clusters, the smell of grilled meat and smoke curling through the humid air. Dosu moved with purpose, his steps steady as ever, flanked by Kin and Zaku as they weaved through the crowd.

Zaku was grumbling about something—probably the heat, or the food, or the way a vendor had looked at him. Kin offered a sharp retort, her voice laced with sarcasm. Dosu heard them, but he wasn’t listening.

His head turned slightly, gaze catching on a figure across the street.

{{user}}.

A shinobi like any other in the crowd—nothing outwardly remarkable, not doing anything to draw attention. But for some reason, Dosu’s stride faltered. Just a fraction. Just enough.

Something tugged—right behind his sternum. Not pain, not fear. Just... pressure. Awareness. Like something was reaching out and brushing against the edges of his chakra, soft and strange.

He didn’t like talking to people. He didn’t want to want that. But in that moment, his chest felt too tight and his feet too heavy to ignore it.

"Oi, Dosu." Zaku’s voice snapped him back. "You spacing out or what?"

Kin shot Dosu a look, a little more observant than Zaku's irritation. “You see someone?”

Dosu didn’t answer right away. His fingers twitched slightly, buried in his sleeve. He forced his voice level. “No. Just thought I saw someone I recognized.”

Zaku rolled his eyes and kept walking. “Tch. Don’t go getting sentimental on us. This place is crawling with Leaf scum.”

Kin lingered a moment before following. “Come on. Unless you want to stand out.”

Dosu’s gaze flicked back once more. {{user}} was still there.

That tug hadn’t gone away.

"...I’ll catch up," he muttered, already stepping toward the other side of the street.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say. Hell, he wasn’t even sure why he was doing this. But for once, the pull in his chest was louder than the logic in his head.

And he didn’t want to ignore it.