"This is for you."
Kiyohara stripped the wrapper from the candy and held it up between two fingers, offering it into the air as casually as if he were handing over a spare kunai.
"If it tastes bad… hmph."
Kurenai Yuhi shot him a sidelong look with those ruby-bright eyes of hers. Then she tucked a loose curl behind her ear, lowered her head, and parted her lips. The lollipop disappeared into her mouth with a soft, almost delicate motion.
"Limited edition. You get what you pay for," Kiyohara said.
Sugar was no luxury on the battlefield. In wartime, it could practically be counted as a strategic resource. Shinobi had to stay sharp every second they were outside the wire; one lapse in focus, one missed wire or hidden tag, and that was the end of you.
A little sugar could push back fatigue, steady the mind, and keep the body moving just a little longer. In a world where survival often came down to a few more seconds, that mattered.
"I didn't expect you to buy something like this," Kurenai said around the candy, her voice softer now.
The sweetness spread across her tongue, richer than the cheap hard candies most people settled for. This one wasn't just sweeter. It had body to it, a layered taste that lingered, with the faint medicinal sharpness of something designed for more than comfort.
The candy slipped free from Kiyohara's fingers completely and settled into her mouth. He folded the wrapper absentmindedly and tucked it away.
"It's pricier than ordinary candy," he said. "Unlike you, I don't buy things just because they look cute."
Kurenai gave him another look, one halfway between annoyance and amusement.
Kiyohara only shrugged. "It'll be useful when it really matters."
Once, an old shinobi had told him that if a ninja had water, they could drag themselves along for seven to ten days without food. Add sugar to that water, though, and that time stretched much farther. This wasn't ordinary candy. It had been specially made, fortified with extra nutrients and salts for use in the field.
"I've delivered the money," Kurenai said at last. "So I'm going."
She turned to leave the tent, but Kiyohara swung his legs off the bed and rose as well.
"Wait. I'm heading out too."
He still had spoils to dispose of. There were no immediate missions, which meant a brief window to breathe, and Kiyohara had learned long ago that if you stayed wound up too long, your mind would break before your body did.
Strictly speaking, the first dedicated mental health clinic in the ninja world wouldn't exist for another two years after the Fourth Great Ninja War. But that hardly mattered. Trauma didn't wait for institutions to catch up to it.
"Then let's go," Kurenai said.
They had barely gone a few steps before a familiar figure blocked the path ahead: a young man with an unruly look, the air of a street punk, and the unmistakable face of someone who thought rebellion was part of his bloodline.
"Asuma? You were transferred here too?" Kurenai asked, surprised.
Sarutobi Asuma's eyes lit up the instant he saw her. He had asked around before arriving and had known she was stationed here, but running into her this quickly still felt like fate handing him a prize.
"Kurenai."
With a grin, he produced a small, carefully wrapped box and offered it over. "I saw this while I was on assignment. Thought it would suit you. They say it helps calm the nerves."
Kurenai glanced at the box, then at Asuma's eager expression. After that, she lifted the lollipop still in her mouth and pointed at it with one finger.
"No need," she said politely. "Kiyohara already gave me something."
The sight made her cheeks puff slightly around the candy, which only made the refusal feel softer than it actually was.
To be honest, Kurenai had always found dealing with Asuma a little exhausting. He was constantly trying to please her, and because he was the Third Hokage's son, every conversation carried a weight she never asked for. One wrong sentence, one unintended offense, and suddenly it wasn't just her problem anymore. It could reach her father too.
With Kiyohara, things were easier. Simpler. He didn't make every exchange feel like a negotiation.
"Kiyohara?" Asuma repeated, finally turning to look at him properly.
The three of them had once been classmates. Back then, his impression of Kiyohara had been little more than this: a quiet commoner kid who kept his head down and didn't stand out. Since then, though, word had spread. Kiyohara had become a chunin. He had returned from major assignments alive. He had even started making a name for himself.
So had the time spent on the same squad changed things between him and Kurenai?
The thought hit Asuma harder than he expected. Jealousy rose in him before he could hide it.
He was the one who had known her first. He was the one who had come first.
"Asuma," Kiyohara said, giving him a curt greeting.
Asuma nodded back. His relationship with his father was still bad, his attitude still rough, and the air around him still carried that restless edge of a young man trying too hard to prove he wasn't living in anyone's shadow.
"By the way," Kurenai said, steering the conversation away from the awkwardness, "how did you end up here?"
"I'm only passing through," Asuma said. "You'll probably hear the news soon anyway. Kirigakure's attacks are getting more frequent. There are even rumors that the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist have shown up."
Kurenai inhaled softly. "The Seven Ninja Swordsmen…?"
Their reputation reached every village. Each one wielded a fearsome signature blade, and the name alone was enough to darken the mood of a campfire conversation.
At that, Kiyohara's thoughts shifted immediately. Might Guy was still alive. Which meant he hadn't yet fought the Seven Ninja Swordsmen as he had in the original timeline. So that battle was probably still ahead.
In the version he remembered, Guy, Genma Shiranui, and Ebisu would be cornered by the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist. Duy—Guy's father, the eternal genin—would step forward alone to cover their escape. Then he would open the Eight Gates and kick the Seven Ninja Swordsmen so hard that four of them died and three more were gravely wounded.
From that day on, the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist would be reduced to three. A lifelong genin, ignored by almost everyone, would prove in a single battle that taijutsu specialists could become monsters when pushed far enough.
"So be careful," Asuma said, his concern aimed entirely at Kurenai. "Especially now."
And then he kept going.
Kiyohara stood there and listened for a bit. Once the useful part was over, everything that followed was just concern dressed up in different clothes. Advice, worry, gentle reminders. The kind of warm, persistent attention that sounded thoughtful if you didn't have to stand there under it.
Kurenai endured it with polite patience, but Kiyohara had no interest in listening to Asuma circle endlessly around the same point.
"I'm going," he said. "I've got things to do."
Then he started walking.
Because of the butterfly effect he'd already caused, squad assignments had shifted. Genma had ended up in his class back then. Kiyohara no longer trusted the original flow of events to play out exactly as before. He didn't know whether Guy would still face the Seven Ninja Swordsmen in the same way.
All he knew was that the war would only get worse from here.
After this would come the Battle of Kikyo Pass. And that fight could spread right up to Konoha's doorstep. Sunagakure's hero, Pakura of Scorch Release, would blaze across the battlefield. The entire front was building toward something uglier.
"I'll go with you," Kurenai said suddenly.
At last, she had a reason to leave without seeming rude.
"Do what you want," Kiyohara said without looking back.
"Kurenai, you…" Asuma began.
She waved him off before he could finish. "Next time, Asuma."
In the end, he was the only one left standing there.
Asuma scratched his head. "Maybe she's just shy because we haven't seen each other in a while."
Still, watching Kurenai follow Kiyohara was a warning he couldn't ignore. Familiarity bred affection. If that was how this worked, then he needed to start showing her even more care. More attention. More presence.
After leaving Asuma behind, Kiyohara and Kurenai headed for the nearby transit town in the rear.
It was called a town, but there were barely any civilians left. Mostly, it was a shinobi stopover, a temporary knot of movement and trade shaped entirely by the war. The merchants here lived off ninja money, and every stall smelled faintly of metal, oil, sweat, and cheap food.
For the foreseeable future, Kiyohara had no intention of volunteering for dangerous assignments if he could help it.
He planned to keep his head down for a while. The battlefield was changing too quickly, the stakes were climbing, and he still needed time. Time for another last testament to arrive. Time for the future to hand him a better card. Time to grow strong enough that he didn't have to gamble his life every single mission.
Only after the next will appeared would he decide how aggressively to move.
Until then, staying alive was the first priority.
That had always been the first priority.
Kurenai walked beside him, the lollipop still between her lips, her expression much lighter than before. The evening market glowed ahead of them with scattered lantern light.
For a brief stretch of road, with war rumbling in the distance and the camp at their backs, the world almost felt ordinary.
Almost.