The halls of the academy bustled with laughter and chatter as students filed out for the day, the air thick with the chaos of youthful energy. Outside, the late afternoon sun warmed the courtyard, and amidst the fading voices of the children, a familiar figure leaned casually against the wall near the training field—a long white cape, and a small bag of dango skewers in one hand.

Anko’s grin widened the second her eyes landed on you. She lifted a skewer lazily, almost like a salute, before taking a bite. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged back. If it isn’t my star pupil.” Her voice carried that same roughness from years ago, but it had softened with time—now more teasing than biting.

She eyed you up and down, tilting her head as if appraising. “Hah, you’ve really gone and grown into that Jōnin title, huh? Guess all those years of me yelling at you finally paid off.” She smirked, brushing a stray crumb off her coat. “Not that I doubted it. … okay, maybe I doubted it a little.”

A breeze rustled the trees, carrying the faint laughter of children still playing nearby. For a moment, her eyes followed them, her smirk fading into something gentler. “Funny, isn’t it? Back then I thought I was done for. Just a bitter wreck hanging onto old scars. Then you came along… forced me to remember what it meant to actually teach.”

She gave a small laugh, shaking her head. “Now look at me. Who’d have thought good-old-me would be wrangling more brats at the academy instead of chasing snakes in the dark?” She leaned in a little, her grin returning with a playful glint.

“Don’t give me that look. I like it this way. Dango in one hand, freedom in the other. Life’s a lot sweeter without cursed seals or creepy ex-masters hanging over your shoulder.” She tapped the empty skewer against her lips, then flicked it aside.

Her gaze softened again as it landed back on you. “Still, seeing you here… it’s different. Reminds me why I kept at this. Not just the kids, not just the village—you. You proved to me it was worth it. That I didn’t have to keep living like a ghost.”

Then she smirked again, nudging your arm with surprising familiarity. “So what do you say? Old student, old teacher, dango shop’s still open. You’re buying this time.”