The trek back to Konoha was uneventful, but Hana's thoughts were anything but.

She moved through the trees on autopilot, muscle memory guiding her steps, but her mind replayed that single, warped voice again and again—you keep holding onto that bracelet like it'll protect you.

Why was he so focused on it?

Did she even want the answer to that question?

She stepped through the gates just past dusk, nodding faintly at Kotetsu and Izumo without stopping. The sky was still gray, like it hadn't moved since she left. Neither had the unease in her chest.

By the time she reached the Hokage's office, she'd rehearsed her report twice—but her stomach still twisted as she knocked on the door.

"Enter," Tsunade called.

Hana stepped inside. Her boots didn't make a sound on the hardwood floor.

"You're back earlier than expected," Tsunade said, eyeing her. "That usually means either the mission went too well...or went sideways."

"I gathered enough to confirm the group's location," Hana said, handing her the updated scroll. "They were camped just past the western border near the old bamboo grove. Three of them. Masked. Coordinated."

Tsunade didn't say anything for a moment as she scanned the scroll. Then: "Did you engage?"

"No. I did what you asked. Observed. Listened."

"And?"

Hana hesitated—just for a breath.

"They mentioned Konoha being vulnerable after Asuma's death. That now was the time to strike. But the part that stood out... one of them said they had someone keeping eyes on the inside. Said things would 'fall apart from the inside out.'"

That got Tsunade's full attention.

She looked up, sharp-eyed. "You're sure that's what they said?"

"Word for word."

Tsunade exhaled through her nose, setting the scroll down with a quiet thump.

"We've suspected it," she admitted. "But this confirms it. Someone's leaking information."

Hana's stomach dropped a little further.

"Have you told anyone else about this?" Tsunade asked.

"No. Not yet."

"Keep it that way for now. If there's a traitor, we don't know how high it goes—or how long they've been passing intel."

Hana nodded slowly, jaw clenched. "Do we have suspects?"

"Not yet," Tsunade said, but her tone was grim. "But trust me—we will."

The warmth of her apartment didn't feel like comfort. Not tonight.

Hana stood at her sink, washing the grime of the mission from her hands, but her reflection in the window above the basin didn't look any cleaner. Just... distant. Eyes half-focused. Mouth unsmiling. A ghost still dragging the weight of the graveyard behind her.

A knock at the door pulled her back.

She dried her hands, stepping toward it, and already knew who it would be before opening it.

Ryuken stood there, leaning casually against the frame with that usual half-smile. "Thought you'd be back by now."

Hana blinked. "You were waiting?"

"I figured you'd drop by Tsunade's first. Word spreads fast."

Of course it does, she thought, but forced a faint smile. "Come in."

He stepped inside and pulled her into a hug—one hand against the small of her back, the other threading gently through her hair. She leaned into him a moment longer than usual—just long enough to remember what normal felt like.

"You alright?" he asked, voice low.

"Fine." A lie. Not well hidden.

He pulled back slightly to study her face. "Rogues give you trouble?"

Hana shook her head. "Didn't engage."

"Good," Ryuken said. "You're smart about these things. If they were the ones by the old bamboo grove, they've been tricky to track."

Her breath hitched—but she recovered fast.

"You knew where they were?"

Ryuken blinked once. "That's just what people are saying."

She didn't respond.

He didn't notice the change in her eyes—or maybe he did and decided not to acknowledge it.

"I brought food," he said casually, holding up the bag of Ichiraku in his hand. "Didn't think you'd feel like cooking."

She gave a tight smile. "Thanks."

But the food went untouched for a long time. And while Ryuken talked about something unimportant—weather, gossip, a mission he was assigned to last week—Hana's mind was somewhere else.

Somewhere in the bamboo grove.

Somewhere in a forest, a man with one red eye and a liar's voice whispered things no one else should know.

When Ryuken left, she stood at the door a beat longer than necessary.

Then locked it.

She walked to her bedroom, pulled open the drawer, and stared at the bracelet sitting inside.

Still safe. Still where she said it would be.

So how did he know?

She sat on the edge of the bed, the bracelet resting in her palm.

Her fingers flexed once.

Then curled.

She fell asleep like that—upright, the weight of suspicion tangled in her limbs like vines she couldn't cut loose.

She dreamed.

The forest was the same.

Still.

Fog-drenched. Quiet.

The bamboo rose around her like grave markers, swaying gently even though there was no wind.

She stood in the middle of it all, barefoot. No weapons. No headband. Just the bracelet in her hand, the metal cool and bright.

Then he appeared.

No footsteps. No swirl of space-time.

He was simply there.

The orange mask.

The Sharingan.

But he said nothing.

He walked toward her slowly, like the world around them had no rush. She didn't move. Couldn't.

He stopped an arm's length away.

Then held out his hand—not threatening, not demanding. Just... open.

Her fingers betrayed her. The bracelet slipped into his hand before she realized she'd moved.

He took it, stared at it in his palm, then looked at her.

Still silent.

Still faceless.

Still... him.

Then he turned and walked into the bamboo until the fog swallowed him whole.

When she blinked, she was alone again.

The wind had returned.

And she was cold.

Hana woke with a jolt, her hand still clenched tightly around the bracelet.

Sweat beaded at her brow, but her pulse was steady.

The sun had started to rise, casting pale light across her bedroom floor. She sat still for a moment, the weight of the dream still draped over her like wet fabric—heavy, hard to shake off.

A knock at the door pulled her the rest of the way out of the haze.

She pulled on a loose top and padded barefoot across the floor to answer it.

Standing there, arms crossed and a coffee in each hand, was Genma Shiranui. His senbon was missing—probably tucked behind one ear—and his usual smirk was subdued, replaced by something more thoughtful.

"Figured you didn't sleep," he said simply, offering her one of the cups.

She blinked, then took it. "Thanks."

He followed her in without being invited—because he didn't need to be. He knew her well enough.

"I ran into the admin desk," he said, setting the scroll on her counter. "They said you left this."

She glanced at it. One of her briefing documents.

"Guess I was distracted."

Genma gave her a sidelong glance. "Can't imagine why."

She didn't answer. Just sipped.

"Report go alright?"

"Tsunade's handling it," she murmured.

Genma leaned against the edge of her counter, arms folded again. "And you?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

She exhaled through her nose. "Define fine."

That got her a quiet chuckle. "Fair."

There was a pause before he added, "He came by, didn't he?"

Her eyes flicked to him, careful. "Ryuken?"

"Yeah."

"Word travels fast."

Genma shrugged. "Wasn't looking for gossip. He just asked a lot of weird questions. Stuff most people wouldn't care about unless they were trying to cover their own ass."

Hana stilled.

Genma noticed.

"I'm not saying anything definitive," he said, his voice casual—but carefully so. "But you might want to start paying attention to what's being said...and by who."

She stared down at her coffee.

"You know," Genma said, after a long pause, "the worst part about betrayal?"

She looked up.

"It's never from the people you expect."

Her fingers tightened slightly around the cup.

No witty remark. No sarcasm.

Just a quiet truth, spoken by someone who'd seen too much to sugarcoat anything anymore.

"I know," she said.

Genma stepped toward the door.

"Tsunade wants you back at HQ tomorrow morning. Bring your notes. And maybe... start looking sideways, not just forward."

He didn't wait for a reply. Just left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Hana stood there in silence.

Then locked the door behind him again.

Only this time...

She didn't feel alone.

Not in the comforting way.

But in the kind that made her hand twitch toward a kunai.