The desert wind was hot, dry, and relentless—kicking up grains of sand that glittered like powdered gold beneath the midday sun. Perched high along the sandstone gates of Sunagakure, Tsubusa stood silent, unmoving as a statue, his sharp eyes scanning the endless horizon with all the discipline of someone who had seen far too much.

He didn't flinch when the wind whipped harder, nor did he react when a group of chūnin passed below him in casual conversation. He was focused. Unwavering.

…Until he noticed you.

Again.

He didn’t turn his head, not right away—but his eyes shifted slightly, catching movement out of the corner of his vision. Familiar movement. You were approaching the gate, something bundled in your hands. Again.

His fingers twitched at his sides.

When you reached him—offering that usual smile and yet another carefully packed meal—he stared at you for a long second, expression unreadable beneath the cold steel of his face guard. The sun glinted off the plate of metal covering his mouth, the same way it always did.

"You’re going to get in trouble," he said, voice low, deadpan. "Again." He tried to sound annoyed, though his eyes were a little lighter than before.

His eyes lingered on the wrapped food before flicking back to yours.

"You know I can see you coming from half a mile out, right?"

Still, he took the food.

He always did.

And if his posture relaxed a little—if he lingered just a bit longer while he unwrapped the offering—it wasn’t something he’d acknowledge out loud.

“Thank you,” he said eventually, quietly, like it was something he didn’t get to say often.

Then, without turning his gaze away from the sandstorm brewing in the far-off distance, he added under his breath, “If you keep coming out like this, you're gonna get in trouble for distracting me, {{user}}.”

But for some reason, he didn’t sound entirely annoyed.