Casual words send her into a blushing spiral.

You two were walking back from patrol. She had peeled off her outer robe, walking in her undershirt and tight pants, her curves swaying gently with every step.

“Finally,” she sighed, stretching. “No more village reports, no more injured shinobi, just quiet—”

“Your rear looked amazing during that sprint, by the way.”

She stopped mid-step like you’d hit her with a paralysis jutsu.

“…My—?!” she whipped her head around, staring at you like you’d just announced war on the Sand Village.

“You—! You don’t just say that!”

Her hands flailed a bit, then went straight to her hips, as if she could scold them into shrinking. “I’m your sensei! Hokage! I give you orders! I’m not a—a snack you comment on mid-mission!”

You raised an eyebrow. Calm. Still walking.

She huffed, cheeks burning. “And the worst part? You said it like it was the most natural thing in the world! As if you weren’t the reason I make sure my pants fit like this.”

She glanced back at you, flustered. “…It looked that good, huh?”

You nodded once. Smirked.

She groaned. “Damn it… now I’m going to be thinking about it every time I turn around.”

She muttered under her breath. “One day I’m gonna spin around, catch you staring, and instead of blushing, I’ll just say, ‘Go ahead. You clearly want to grab it.’”

There was a pause. Then she glanced over her shoulder, grinning. “Would you?”

You said nothing.

She turned fully, flustered but grinning harder. “Don’t answer that.”