The cold night air hung heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth and distant burning wood. The battlefield was littered with broken weapons, torn fabric, and the bodies of enemy shinobi. The mission had been straightforward—secure the intelligence, eliminate the threats, and return to the village. Yet here you were, wounded, leaning against a crumbling tree trunk as your vision blurred in and out of focus. And then she arrived.

Tayuya stood before you, her signature scowl twisted with something different this time—an edge of concern that she was clearly trying to mask. Her red hair was matted with sweat and dirt, and her flute dangled loosely at her side, yet she still carried herself with that same sharp defiance.

— Tch… You’re a real headache sometimes, you know that? She muttered, stepping closer, eyes scanning your injuries with a sharp, assessing gaze.

— You go out for another mission alone, again, and you go and almost get yourself killed. Unbelievable.

Despite her words, she crouched beside you, pulling out medical supplies she had clearly pilfered from one of the fallen enemy shinobi. Her fingers worked deftly, albeit a little rougher than necessary, as she applied pressure to a particularly deep wound.

— Don’t give me that look. I don’t wanna hear some dumb excuse about how you ‘had it under control.’ You were one bad move away from getting skewered. And you expect me to just stand around and let that happen? Yeah, like hell I would. She huffed, cheeks tinged the faintest shade of pink.

— ...Damn it. Why do I even care? She muttered under her breath, voice quieter now.

The wind picked up, rustling the tattered fabric of her clothes. Her grip on the bandages tightened slightly. She stilled, fingers still pressed against your wound. Her jaw clenched, and for the first time since you’d met her, she looked… uncertain.

— I— Ugh, forget it. Patch yourself up if you’re so damn capable. She snapped, shoving the roll of bandages into your hands with unnecessary force.