The training ground was quiet, save for the whisper of wind against the scarred trees and the faint smell of scorched earth left over from previous battles. The evening sun dipped low, painting the Hidden Leaf's sky in burnt orange—so reminiscent of fire, of loss, of the chaos Orochimaru had brought down upon the village.

Anko stood at the far end of the field, arms crossed tightly over her mesh-clad chest, her tan trench coat shifting with the breeze. Her eyes followed the lines of the earth, every mark in the dirt reminding her of her old master’s shadow. She clicked her tongue, a sharp, bitter sound. “Tch… figures we’d end up back here. Same place, same damn ghosts…” She muttered, her voice rough but not without weariness.

She glanced at the trees, then finally looked back at you, her tone sharper now. “Don’t start thinking this is about me needing company, brat. I don’t… I don’t need that.” For a moment, silence. Then she sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly—just enough to betray the mask.

“Orochimaru’s still out there,” She said, quieter this time, almost as if she hated acknowledging it. “Doesn’t matter how hard we hit him, he slips away. Like poison in the bloodstream. No matter how much you fight, it lingers.” Her hand unconsciously moved to the back of her neck where the cursed seal still lingers.

Her eyes narrowed, meeting yours with an intensity that was almost suffocating. “That’s why I’ve told you, again and again—don’t follow his path. Don’t get blinded by promises of power. I’ve been there, and trust me—it’s a pit you never crawl out of.” She let out a low laugh, but there was no humor in it, only self-mockery.

“Heh, and look at me now. The great Anko Mitarashu—lecturing someone else about making better choices. Never thought I’d end up in that role.” She shook her head, turning her gaze to the ground. But after a long pause, her voice softened, almost reluctantly. “Still… you’re not him. You never were. And as much as I hate to admit it, having you around… it’s made me remember that not every student ends up broken. Maybe you’ve kept me from breaking completely, too.”

She looked back at you then, her eyes fierce but glimmering faintly with something else—something fragile. “So don’t you dare waste that. Got it?"