“Ouch! Naruto, be more careful. You’re pulling my hair.”

Sakura’s complaint, though feigning annoyance, was lost in the gentle murmur of the river. She was sitting on a frayed blanket in the center of a clearing bathed in the afternoon sun. Behind her, Naruto was on his knees, his tongue sticking out from the corner of his lips in a gesture of utmost concentration.

“Don’t move, Sakura-chan!” he retorted, frowning as he battled a particularly rebellious lock of pink hair. “The art of hairstyling requires a static canvas. If you keep moving, you’re going to end up with something that looks more like a rat’s nest than a braid!”

“My hair is already a disaster, Naruto,” Sakura sighed, though a small smile touched her face. “It’s the price of sleeping on the ground for three straight nights. Honestly, I still don’t understand how I agreed to this.”

“Because deep down, you know I’m a misunderstood artist,” Naruto declared grandly, puffing out his chest. “Once, at the academy, I gave a training dummy a haircut. It looked so incredible that Iruka-sensei almost passed me in stealth just for the creativity. He said no enemy would expect to be attacked by something that looked like a pineapple with style.”

Hinata, sitting across from them, let out a soft, melodious giggle, covering her mouth with her hand. “I-if you turn your wrist a little more to the right when you cross the strands, Naruto-kun,” she suggested in a quiet voice, “the knot will be much tighter and won’t come undone so easily.”

“Like this?” Naruto asked, trying to follow her advice and nearly tangling his fingers in the process. “Wow, you’re right, Hinata! You’re an expert!”

“My little sister, Hanabi, used to ask me to braid her hair all the time,” she explained, a faint blush on her cheeks. “She has very long, straight hair, it’s… it’s easier than Sakura-san’s, no offense.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sakura laughed. “My hair has a personality of its own, and most days, it’s in a bad mood. But thanks, Hinata. At least now I know that if Naruto leaves me bald, you can fix it.”

The atmosphere was so light that the words flowed effortlessly. They found themselves talking about things that had nothing to do with the mission, with the danger, or with the tension that had accompanied them since they left the village.

“You guys have no idea what I’d give for my bed right now,” Naruto said, sighing dramatically. “Even with that lump in the mattress that digs into my back. It’s my lump.”

“A lump? I’d give anything for a flat futon,” Sakura replied. “Last night, I could’ve sworn a tree root tried to kidnap me in my sleep. I think I’m going to have a bark pattern on my back for a week. What do you miss most, Hinata?”

Hinata seemed to think for a moment. “The tea my father makes in the morning,” she said finally, “and the silence of the dojo at dawn. Here… everything here is so loud.”

“But it’s a great kind of loud!” Naruto exclaimed. “It’s the sound of adventure!”

“It’s the sound of bugs that probably want to eat us while we sleep,” Sakura corrected, shuddering.

The conversation drifted to food, as it often did when Naruto was present.

“I’ve heard they sell dango in the capital of the Land of Fire that will change your life,” Naruto said, his eyes shining. “They say it’s so good that people cry when they taste it.”

“That’s an exaggeration, Naruto,” Sakura replied, rolling her eyes. “But it is good. I tried it once with my parents. The sweet soy sauce is thicker than what we use in Konoha.”

“The best dango is at the stall near training ground three,” Hinata interjected with uncharacteristic confidence. “They make it with a different kind of rice. It’s more… sticky.”

Naruto and Sakura looked at her, surprised.

“Really?” Naruto asked, intrigued. “Better than the stuff at the Akimichi’s shop?”

Hinata nodded seriously. “Much better.”

Encouraged by the relaxed atmosphere, Hinata even dared to share a small anecdote. “Speaking of things you can eat… one time, Akamaru ate an entire scroll of Kiba-kun’s tactics.”

Naruto burst out laughing. “Seriously? What happened?”

“Kiba-kun spent a week trying to decipher the strategies based on… well, on what Akamaru left in the backyard,” Hinata recounted, her face completely red but with a genuine smile.

The laughter of the three of them echoed through the clearing, a warm, pure sound that seemed to chase away any shadows. Sakura found herself thinking that she had never had a conversation like this with Sasuke. With him, everything was silence, tension, or single-word answers. This, on the other hand, felt… normal. It felt good.

A few yards away, by a crackling fire, Kurenai carefully turned the fish skewered on wooden sticks. The aroma of grilled fish with a hint of smoke was beginning to fill the air. Beside her, Kakashi was leaning against a tree trunk, his book held firmly in front of his face. He gave the impression of being completely absorbed, but Kurenai, who had known him for years, knew that not the slightest movement around him escaped his notice.

“It seems they’re finally relaxing,” Kurenai commented in a low voice, without taking her eyes off the fire. “They needed it. The journey from the village has been tense.”

“Mmm,” was Kakashi’s only response from behind his book. After a pause, he added, “The calm is often more dangerous than the storm. It’s when people let their guard down.”

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” she replied with a half smile.

Beyond them, the bridge builder, Tazuna, was already well into his bottle of sake. He reeked of alcohol and self-pity as he told his life’s stories to an audience that could not have been less interested.

“And then I told the foreman!” he slurred, his voice pasty and far too loud. “I told him he could shove his blueprints where the sun don’t shine! A real man builds with his soul, not with an instruction manual!” He paused to take a long swig. “Once… once I built a three-story scaffold… in a single night! And it was raining! No, what am I saying, raining! It was a typhoon! You kids today, you don’t know what real work is!”

His speech was theoretically aimed at Sasuke, who was at the opposite end of the clearing. The young Uchiha was ignoring the old man with a dedication that was almost an art form. He stood there, throwing kunai at a fallen tree with cold, methodical precision.

Thwack. The kunai sank into the wood with a dull, satisfying sound.

Thwack. Another, a millimeter from the last one.

Thwack. A third, forming a perfect triangle.

Each throw was a final word in a conversation he wasn’t having, a way to channel the frustration and impatience he felt. Tazuna’s noise was an annoying fly buzzing around him, but his concentration was a wall of steel.

The relative peace of the camp was shattered by a shout from the woods.

“Everyone step aside! The dinner provider has arrived!”

Kiba burst into the clearing, his chest swelled with pride. He held an improvised rope from which hung half a dozen decently sized fish, writhing in their final moments. At his side, Akamaru trotted with his tail held high, barking triumphantly as if he had just defeated an entire army.

“The Inuzuka tracking team never fails!” Kiba proclaimed, dropping his catch on the ground. “We’ll eat like kings tonight thanks to me! And Akamaru, of course!”

Just behind him, so quiet he seemed to have emerged from the shadows, Shino appeared. In one of his hands, he held a glass jar. Inside, several iridescent green beetles crawled up the glass walls.

“Your method of obtaining food was… loud,” Shino commented, his voice as monotonous and devoid of emotion as ever. “You scared away all the fauna in a fifty-meter radius. My kikaichū, on the other hand, operated in silence. They located a nest of these river beetles two hundred meters from our position. They are a more efficient source of protein, and their acquisition did not alert potential enemies.”

Kiba turned to look at him, an expression of pure disbelief on his face.

“Are you kidding me? No one in their right mind would rather eat bugs than good grilled fish!” he snapped. “Fish is warrior food! Bugs are… well, they’re bugs! Admit it, my method is way cooler!”

“‘Coolness’ is not a tactical variable that can be quantified,” Shino replied, adjusting his sunglasses. “Efficiency and stealth, however, are. Logically, my method was superior.”

“Superior my—!”

“The fish is almost ready,” Kurenai interrupted, her voice melodic but firm, cutting off the argument before it could escalate. “But with Tazuna’s appetite, it looks like we could use one more. Good work, Kiba.”

The praise was enough to calm her student, who smiled, satisfied.

But the mention of catching one more was like a spark in a powder keg for someone else.

“Fishing competition!” Naruto suddenly shouted, leaping to his feet and leaving Sakura’s braid half-finished. “Whoever catches the biggest fish will be crowned the Ninja King of Fishermen! And as a prize, they won’t have to wash the dishes tonight!”

The idea was so sudden and so ridiculous that Sakura and Hinata couldn’t help but laugh.

“We barely have any dishes to wash, Naruto,” Sakura reminded him, amused. “We’ve been eating with the bare minimum.”

“It doesn’t matter!” he insisted, a determined glint in his eyes. “It’s honor that’s at stake! Honor and glory!”

The proposal was met with unexpected enthusiasm. Kiba, always up for a competition, provided them with makeshift rods he had fashioned from flexible branches and some fishing line from his gear pack. Within minutes, Naruto, Sakura, and Hinata were lined up on the riverbank, ready for what seemed, at that moment, to be the most important battle of their lives.

Naruto, true to his style, adopted the least subtle technique possible. He cast his line with a war cry and began to shake the rod violently.

“Come on, you stupid fish! Come and face my hook of destiny! Whoever gets caught will be immortalized in the legend of the Fishing King!”

As expected, any fish within a ten-meter radius fled in terror. Sakura, beside him, sighed and cast her own line with more delicacy. Hinata, for her part, sat on a smooth rock, holding her rod with infinite patience, her figure reflected on the calm surface of the water.

She was the first to have success. A gentle tug on her line, a quick and expert flick of the wrist, and a small silver fish flew out of the water, landing in the grass at her feet.

“Nice one, Hinata!” Sakura congratulated her.

“That’s just beginner’s luck!” Naruto declared, visibly jealous. “Mine will be so big we’ll have to use a summoning jutsu to pull it out!”

He had barely finished speaking when Sakura’s rod bent sharply and violently, nearly snapping in half.

“Whoa! I think I’ve got something!” she yelled, her voice tinged with a childish excitement she hadn’t felt in years. “And it’s a big one! A really big one!”

She jumped to her feet, struggling to keep her balance on the slippery stones of the riverbank. The rod was arched dramatically, the line as taut as a violin string, cutting through the water.

“Come on, Sakura-chan! You can do it!” Naruto cheered, having completely forgotten his own rod.

“Pull with your legs, not your arms! Use your weight!” Kiba advised from the campfire, now completely absorbed in the spectacle.

Sakura laughed, a sound of pure, genuine joy as she fought against the invisible force pulling from the other end. The sun warmed her face, the cold splashes of water wet her feet, and for an instant, she forgot everything. She forgot she was a kunoichi on a dangerous mission. She forgot about Sasuke and her complicated feelings. She felt like a normal girl, on a perfect summer day, enjoying the thrill of fishing. It was, without a doubt, the happiest and most carefree moment she had experienced in a very, very long time.

Just as Sakura, muscles tense and a triumphant smile on her face, prepared to give the final pull that would yank her colossal catch from the water, Naruto’s expression changed.

It wasn’t a conscious thought. It wasn’t something he saw or heard. It was a purely visceral sensation, an icy chill that ran down his spine in the middle of the warm day. The air around him seemed to thicken, to become heavy and oppressive. The cheerful murmur of the river suddenly sounded muffled and distant, as if he were hearing it through a thick wall of glass.

Cold. Something felt terribly cold.

In the periphery of his vision, the discreet blue interface of the Falna, which had remained inactive and silent for days, flickered a single, jarring time. It showed no text, no statistics. Just a flashing red border that pulsed in his mind with a single, clear, and terrifying word.

[DANGER]

For Sakura, the world was still perfect. Laughter still played on her lips, her muscles burned with the pleasant effort of the struggle, and her green eyes were fixed on the exact spot on the water’s surface where the fish was about to emerge.

And then, she saw Naruto’s face.

All the joy, all the competitive excitement, had vanished. His face was a mask of pure, absolute terror. His blue eyes, normally so full of life, were wide, fixed not on her, nor on her rod, but on the water at her feet.

Before she could even form the question “What’s wrong?” he moved.

He was an orange blur of desperate speed. There was no shout of warning, no time for explanations. In one brutally efficient motion, he snatched the fishing rod from her hands and, in the same instant, slammed his shoulder into her. The tackle was so unexpected and forceful that it knocked all the air from her lungs with a choked gasp. Her world tilted violently, and she felt her feet leave the ground, flying backward, away from the river’s edge.

And then, the world exploded.

The roar was deafening, a thunderous detonation that drowned out the sound of the river, the shouts of her companions, and any other thought. A blinding white flash left her momentarily blind, painting dark spots in her vision. A shockwave hit her like an invisible wall, throwing water, dirt, and splinters of wood in all directions. The air filled with a nauseating smell, a mixture of burnt fish and the acrid stench of chakra consumed by an explosion.

Sakura’s universe shrank to a sharp, painful ringing in her ears. She found herself on the ground, several yards from the bank, with Naruto’s weight on top of her. His body had acted as a human shield. Her first reaction was a confusion tinged with anger. What the hell has he done? Has he gone completely insane?

And then, her eyes, blinking to regain focus, saw the scene. She saw the black, smoking crater in the water, right where she had been standing just a second ago. She saw the ripples spreading out from the center of the explosion, disturbing the river’s surface. She saw the dead fish floating, their white and silver bellies turned toward the sky.

The realization hit her with the force of a physical blow, more stunning than Naruto’s tackle, more brutal than the shockwave.

I… I was right there. I was… about to…

Cold, absolute terror flooded her like an icy tide. An uncontrollable tremor started in her hands and quickly spread through her entire body. The world, which a moment before had been so warm, safe, and full of laughter, was now a place of invisible dangers and sudden death. She felt incredibly small and fragile. Without thinking, out of pure, primitive survival instinct, she clung to the only solid thing in her crumbling world. She clung to Naruto.

She hugged him with desperate force, burying her face in the hollow of his shoulder, feeling the rough fabric of his orange jacket against her wet cheek. In that moment, she wasn’t Sakura the kunoichi, Kakashi’s brilliant student. She was a terrified girl who had just stared death right in the face. And he, the boy she had always considered an idiot, had saved her.

Naruto was stunned. The ringing in his ears was deafening. He felt Sakura’s trembling body clinging to him, her choked, silent sobs against his shoulder. His first thought wasn’t about the enemy, or the danger that might still be lurking. It was about her. He awkwardly returned the hug with one arm, patting her on the back in a gesture that was meant to be reassuring.

“It’s okay, Sakura-chan…” his voice was a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the ringing in his ears. “It’s… it’s over. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Naruto-kun! Sakura-san!”

Hinata’s distressed voice reached them. She was running toward them from the campfire, her face pale with panic. Behind her came Kiba, a furious expression on his face, and Shino, already on high alert, his insects surely swarming beneath his jacket.

On the riverbank, the change had been instantaneous. Kakashi and Kurenai were already on guard. Their relaxed postures had vanished, replaced by the cold, lethal efficiency of two elite jōnin. They had kunai in hand, and their eyes were sweeping the opposite bank, the forest canopy, and the sky, searching for any sign of the attacker. Sasuke had joined them, his gaze scanning the perimeter for any anomaly.

Kakashi approached the water’s edge, crouching to analyze the debris. His gaze was sharp and analytical.

“Explosive tags,” he said, his voice quiet but as sharp as ice. “Tied to a nearly invisible chakra thread, submerged. The trap was triggered by the tension on Sakura’s fishing line. It was a professional and deadly trap.” He paused, the implication hanging in the air. “If Naruto hadn’t reacted…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. They all understood.

Naruto helped a still-shocked Sakura to her feet. She didn’t let go of his jacket sleeve; her grip was tight, as if she feared that if she let go, the world would fall apart again. He looked at her, concern clearly visible on his face.

“You… you saved me…” she whispered, her voice choked with a mixture of gratitude and residual horror. She looked up at him, her green eyes searching for an answer. “How… how did you know? There was no sign.”

Naruto tried to manage a smile, but it came out as a shaky grimace, somewhat embarrassed by the intensity of her gaze and their closeness. He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit.

“I-it was nothing, Sakura-chan, really. I just… I had a bad feeling, that’s all. A chill. That’s what teammates are for, right? To watch each other’s backs.”

They stood like that for a moment, in the middle of the now silent and devastated clearing. The campfire was still crackling, but the festive atmosphere had evaporated. The food was forgotten. The laughter was extinguished. Near the fire, Tazuna was on the ground, pale as a ghost, the sake bottle fallen from his hand, its contents spilling uselessly onto the dirt. The drunken smirk and bravado had vanished from his face. The reality that expert ninja were trying to murder him, experts capable of such calculated and patient cruelty, had finally hit him with its full force.

“Playtime is over,” Kurenai said, her voice as cold as steel, addressing everyone. “The enemy knows exactly where we are. And they aren’t simple thugs.”

The calm had been broken, shattered to pieces. The idyllic outing had transformed, in the blink of an eye, into a war zone. And for Team Alpha, the mission had just truly begun.

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