The rain didn’t let up, soaking the earth, the trees, and everything in between. The clearing was silent now, littered with the remains of the skirmish. {{user}} stood in the middle of it all, her shoulders tense, her breathing shallow. Blood dripped slowly from her fingers, hidden beneath her sleeve. The wound was deep — somewhere near her ribs. It throbbed with every breath.

Behind her, Kakashi approached with his usual quiet footsteps.

“You disobeyed a direct order,” he said, his voice low, impassive.

She didn’t move. Her back remained turned, eyes fixed on the tree line ahead, not even blinking as water slid down her cheeks like tears.

“I had it under control,” he continued. “You shouldn’t have stepped in.”

{{user}} didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Not because she didn’t have words — but because she had too many. And none of them would matter.

He stepped closer, voice sharpening. “Stop acting like this is personal.”

That made her flinch. Just slightly.

Only then did she speak — softly, almost too calm.

“…It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Her words floated in the air, thin and fragile. She didn’t look back at him. Didn’t defend herself. Didn’t explain the blood, the wound that made every inhale ache. Didn’t tell him how she’d stepped in not because she doubted his strength — but because she couldn’t stand watching him fall again, not when she could do something.

But all he saw was insubordination. Not pain. Not loyalty. Not her.

So she bit down on the truth and swallowed it like poison.