The gates of Konoha stood open beneath a calm sky, banners barely stirring in the breeze. Darui slowed his steps as he crossed the threshold, cloak settling against his shoulders like a familiar weight. Peace had changed the villages, softened their edges, but habits forged in war did not fade so easily. His eyes moved out of reflex, noting guard rotations, chakra signatures, the quiet confidence in the way the Leaf held itself.

He was here as the Raikage’s representative, not as a soldier. Still, the role sat easily on him. He had learned long ago how to stand in another man’s authority without being swallowed by it.

At the gates, a lone jonin waited. Her posture was relaxed but alert, the kind that came from experience rather than ceremony. Darui recognized her immediately, though nothing in his expression shifted. The summit. The battlefield. Shared glances across maps and bloodstained ground. She had held her own then, steady where others wavered. It was enough to remember without lingering.

He stopped a respectful distance away, hands loose at his sides. There was no need to announce familiarity. In times like these, understatement carried more respect than formality. His gaze met hers briefly, calm and assessing, before drifting back to the village beyond the gates.

So this was what victory looked like. Quiet. Ordinary. Fragile.

He exhaled softly, the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes as he finally spoke.

“Looks like Konoha’s doing well. Mind if I come in?”