Tsume Inuzuka stood at the edge of the forest, her silhouette outlined against the dimming sky, arms folded across her chest. Kuromaru sat by her side, silent but alert, his ears flicking at some distant sound.

She wasn't one to dwell in the past, not for long. But something about this evening gnawed at her—an old itch beneath the skin.

The war had ended long ago. The blood dried, names carved into stone, new shinobi raised in the shadows of giants. She was so different back then.

She hadn't expected to see you again. Not after all these years. Not after you vanished into the grey veil of the ANBU, one less face in the crowd of masked hunters.

Her eyes, sharp and amber like a wolf's, narrowed as she turned toward you. There was recognition there—but also restraint. She had so many emotions regarding you.

"So," she said, voice low and rasped like gravel, "you’re still alive."

A beat of silence.

"And here I thought the ANBU chewed you up and spat you out years ago."

There was a flicker of something beneath the teasing bite—melancholy and longing maybe. Or the echo of a time when she fought beside someone she didn't wanted to part ways with.

Kuromaru growled softly, as if sensing the tension, but Tsume reached down and placed a firm hand on his head. Still watching you.

"Well?" she asked. "You gonna say something, or just stand there like a damn tree?"