Nao stops to look at a small, brown lizard.
It's only about the size of her middle finger — much smaller than her lizard — and its scales blend into the tree bark that it's clinging to so well she nearly missed it. It, in turn, looks like it hasn't noticed her, its eyes closed and body perfectly still. Not even its long, thin tail is moving the slightest twitch.
It could be dead and no one would be able to tell.
"What are you looking at?"
Spooked by the noise, the lizard darts down the trunk and disappears into the bushes. Nao follows the movement and stares at the point it disappeared. The leaves rustle at the disturbance but settle quickly, and a few seconds later it's as if the lizard hadn't been there at all.
"Nothin'," she replies, tearing her eyes away and turning to face Eizo. There's a moment of awkward silence, then just as Eizo is about to say something she breaks eye contact and continues walking.
She passes him and a few seconds later she hears him follow close behind.
The tension is thick in the air, each step feeling like she's wading through jelly, but she trudges ahead and doesn't look back.
There isn't the same prickling sensation she gets when the villagers stare at her, but she knows he's staring all the same. Perhaps not in the same obvious way, never directly looking, but he's doing it in the way only Eizo can.
He knows her stance, however, — she'd made it quite clear — and she refuses to look back.
She refuses to give in.
Even as they head towards the Land of Whirlpools.
The air is once again getting drier, but not quite as bad as Wind or as dusty as Earth. It's the kind of dry that's only just on the side of uncomfortable, not an extreme either way but once you notice it you can never quite shake it. Like a single mosquito buzzing around your head while you're trying to sleep or getting an itch on that one part of your back you can't reach.
The trees are getting taller, long, spindly branches reaching towards the sky with reaching hands, but Nao doesn't stop to marvel at it. Hardly notices it, really, beyond a fleeting glance. All the branches do is shield her from more of the sun anyway.
"Nao, we have to talk about this sooner or later."
"We did talk about it," she answers, stepping over a particularly large rock and looking dead ahead. "Don't ya remember? You said things, I said things. We talked."
There's an exhale of air behind her and she can clearly see him in her mind's eye, pinching the bridge of his nose and softly shaking his head in frustration as he so often does after dealing with a particularly difficult 'client'.
Not that they've had any 'clients' at all in the past few weeks.
They very well may never have another one again.
"That wasn't talking," he finally says, voice ever soft in that patient way of his that's really starting to get on her nerves. "That was just arguing and going around in circles. It didn't accomplish anything."
Nao snorts, the noise causing the lizard — the right lizard, the good one, the one that didn't leave — to nudge her jaw with his head. She glances down to give him a reassuring pat and a quick smile before looking away.
"That's stupid. What else would you call it? Words came out of our mouths, that's talking. Look, we're doing it right now, see? Blah blah blah, hello world! I'm having a talk with my pal Eizo!" Nao yells the last part, sweeping an arm towards the sky and doing a twirl for flair.
Cue the minuscule frown and lip twitch.
"You're changing the subject."
She drops her arm back to her side. "Well done, captain obvious. Do ya want to tell me the sky is blue while you're at it? Or maybe that water is wet? I hear that's a groundbreaking discovery."
There's a long stretch of silence, and for a moment Nao lets herself believe that's the end of it, that they could continue traveling in silence for the rest of the day. But of course nothing is ever that easy.
"What am I supposed to do with you?"
He mutters it under his breath, barely audible and obviously meant for himself rather than her, but Nao can't help the sharp retort she replies with on reflex.
"Oh, I don't know, how about ya don't toss me aside like I'm some kinda trash you found in a gutter somewhere? That'd be great."
"Nao," he says sharply, all patience gone, "you know that's not what this is."
"Do I?" she asks just as sharply, spinning on her heel to glare at him and determinedly not flinching upon seeing his own intense stare. "'Cuz I'm not sure I do. Tell me, what part am I confused on? The part where we're goin' to a village or the part where you leave me there on my own?"
"That's not-"
"Yes it is! You're dumpin' me in some shit hole an' pissin' off to do who knows what. What else would ya call it?"
"I don't want to leave you on your own, but I may not have a choice."
"Don't lie to me!" she snaps, anger finally boiling over and jabbing a finger at his chest. "There's always a choice. If you want me gone jus' say so, don't make up bullshit. Stop bein' such a wimp and jus' say it."
Hands shaking and chest heaving, Nao's fingernails dig into her palms as she glares at Eizo, and she prays her flushed face isn't too noticeable.
Eizo stares back, outwardly appearing perfectly calm, but she knows better. He's startled, trying to think of the best thing to say, the best route to take. Trying to think of a way to make her back down.
Nao stands her ground.
"I swear," he says slowly, "that I will do everything I can to stay with you. I can't promise I will be able to, but I promise I'll try. The village we're going to is far larger than any we've visited before, far more powerful, and if they don't want me there then there's nothing I'll be able to do about it."
"Why," she whispers — mind whirling, remembering the sight of a man frozen in place, of a butterfly caught mid-flight — "why're we goin' there then?"
"Because," he says, shoulders rolling back as his eyes flick to the trees and then back to her, "things are only going to get worse, and it's the best choice we've got."
Gritting her teeth, Nao looks him in the eye, searching for a crack in his facade, a chip in his armor, any hint of a lie.
She finds none.
Shoulders slumping, Nao lets out a breath and feels both heavier and lighter at the same time, like a weight has been taken off her shoulders and placed onto her chest instead.
"I hate this."
He sends her a small, sad smile.
"I know."
—
Nao loves fish.
She loves it with a passion. Loves the way it sizzles over an open flame and crisps to perfection, loves the juicy taste as she bites into the flesh, loves the flakiness of it as it melts in her mouth.
Yes, Nao loves fish.
Fishing villages, though?
They can rot in hell.
There's nothing like the stench of hundreds — no, thousands — of freshly caught fish all in one place. It's thick and cloying in a way that can't be compared to anything else, the smell slamming you in the face all at once and not giving you any respite.
You'd think after visiting so many she'd be used to it by now, but she's not. There's simply no getting used to the way it claws its way down her throat and makes her gag, and each time she starts to forget about the smell it's all too happy to whack her over the head and return with full force.
So who can blame her for being in a shitty mood?
"Why a fishing village? Why couldn't it 'ave been a farming village, or a ranching village? Heck, I'd take a mining village over this, an' those guys smell like a dirty sock soaked in milk that's been left in the sun for a week," Nao whines, pulling the collar of her jacket over her nose.
It doesn't help.
Eizo doesn't dignify her with an answer, continuing to walk down the street and not even glancing her way. Huffing, Nao stretches her arms over her head — feeling her back do a satisfying pop — and suppresses a yawn.
It's still early in the morning, the sun having risen a half hour ago, but the village is already bustling with activity. It's probably one of the largest — if not the largest — villages she's seen so far. Whereas normally the ones they visit can barely produce enough to get by — whether that be food or goods to sell — this one looks like it can produce enough food to feed all of its residents several times over.
There's no doubt why it also doubles as the main trading port in the area.
As they walk down the main street Nao can't help but look to the side, watching the docked boats rock with the gentle waves of the ocean. There are only a handful larger boats still docked, most of them already being taken out to sea with their nets cast, but she doesn't dare look further.
The vastness of the ocean is still as terrifying as the first time she saw it.
They come to a stop outside the same building they've been visiting every other day for the last week. For a main hall of a village this size it's not especially big or grand, being made of the same wood as the buildings around it and only being a touch larger than them, standing at three stories instead of two.
Unlike past visits, however, there's a small crowd outside the double doors. Half a dozen men and women are talking to each other with booming voices, tanned skin covering taut muscle, but she only recognises one of them.
"Ah, Taishi! I was just about to send a runner to the inn to tell you we're nearly ready to go." Shoji — an unofficial leader of sorts for the trading port — turns from where he was talking to a woman with spiky orange hair to greet them.
"My apologies, we would have been here sooner but this one insisted on having a second serve of breakfast," Eizo says, and when he gestures to her Nao sends him a look of betrayal, causing Shoji to chuckle.
"Machida's food is famous for a reason! No matter, you're right on time anyway."
Nao has no idea who Machida is, nor what their cooking is like, but she keeps her mouth shut. She doesn't know how Eizo has managed to convince everyone that they're staying at the inn and not camping on the outskirts of the village, but she accepted long ago that she may never get answers to all of the stuff Eizo does.
Eizo and Shoji continue talking, but she zones out and doesn't catch a word. It's probably better that she doesn't hear whatever they're saying anyway.
The woman Shoji had been talking to is glancing at her from the corner of her eye, trying to catch a peek at the lizard, so Nao pulls her jacket tighter around herself and angles her shoulder away, shooting her a glare. Getting the hint, the woman turns and begins talking to a man with a scar running up his cheek and a chunk missing from the bottom of his ear.
"Right," Shoji says loudly, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention. "Now that everything is settled, let's get a move on."
After a few murmurs and nods of agreement, the gathered people start moving towards the docks, idly chatting all the way.
When Eizo starts walking Nao follows, keeping her eyes down at the ground. She doesn't look up, not even when the gravel street beneath her feet turns into the wooden boards of the docks and salty air fills her senses.
Eizo gently nudges her arm and she casts a few quick glances around, finding the others to already be on their boats, she and Eizo being the only two left on the dock.
Swallowing nervously, Nao looks up at Eizo. He smiles down at her reassuringly and nods his head towards the ship in front of them, waiting for her to go first.
Taking a deep breath, Nao gathers her courage, looks up at the vast ocean and clear skies, and takes a step forward.
—
Gate duty is, and always will be, Yoshito's most hated job.
Usually the position is reserved for shinobi needing a break from being on active duty for too long, shinobi that are close to retiring, or, occasionally, shinobi that are being punished, but when your partner is a lazy Kushiro that would rather nap than take anything seriously you end up being saddled with the job more often than not.
Speak of the devil.
"Kichi, wake up!"
Kichiro nearly falls out of his chair when Yoshito slaps a hand next to his head, his kunai instinctively slashing the air Yoshito's arm had been moments before.
Upon realising there is no immediate danger, he stretches an arm over his head and yawns, blinking blearily up at Yoshito. "What'd you do that for? I was just getting up to the good bit…"
"How many times do I have to tell you that you can't sleep on the job before it sticks in that thick skull of yours?" Yoshito asks, exasperated, and leans back in his chair with a huff. "Honestly, I don't know how you got past the first month of the academy."
"Ahh, come on now, don't be so harsh. Hane will tell me when the merchants are here anyway, why not live a little?" Kichiro waves him off, moving to once again lay his head on the bench and continue his nap only to jolt back up when Yoshito flicks a kunai of his own into the wood millimetres away from his nose.
"And this is why you'll forever be a chuunin, always relying on your bird. What happens if an enemy takes her out, huh? You'll be dead before you can even open your eyes."
Kichiro scoffs. "Like that'll ever happen. Besides, that's what you're for, isn't it? You do all the worrying and I'll do enough napping for the both of us. It's a good system. Don't mess with the system."
Scowling, Yoshito goes to argue the point further but stops when he hears three distinct coos, and when he looks up he can see Hane circling above. They're nearly here.
"This conversation isn't over," he says, getting out of his chair to get the required paperwork from the back room and pointedly ignoring the way Kichiro mocks him behind his back.
An hour later and Yoshito remembers the other reason he hates gate duty.
The paperwork.
The process is so streamlined that a freshly green genin could walk through the door and pick it up with little to no trouble, but that doesn't change the mind-numbing nature of the job. It enhances it, if anything.
A dozen papers to be signed for each cart, stocks to be taken, heads to be counted, rinse and repeat. By the time they get up to the last two people Yoshito's hand is cramping and he's wondering if maybe Kichiro is onto something with the whole napping thing.
"Name?"
Pen hovering over the page, when there's no reply Yoshito finally looks up.
The man in front of him has the same stocky build as the other fishermen, all broad shoulders and defined muscle, only he's a head taller than the rest of them. Small, faded scars litter his arms and face, the majority of them barely noticeable, and his blond hair is pulled up in a low ponytail.
There's something off about him, but Yoshito can't quite place his finger on what, exactly.
His left hand finds its way down to his kunai pouch, just in case.
The kid next to the man has his eyes fixed to Yoshito's forehead, gaze unwavering, which isn't unusual in and of itself, but his face is portraying none of the usual excitement that usually comes from merchants' kids. His head is tilted to the side, black hair tickling his chin, and Yoshito wonders why he looks both curious, angry and terrified all at the same time.
"Eizo," the man says, "Uzumaki Eizo."
Frowning, Yoshito tears his eyes away from the strange boy back to the man, and immediately slams his palm into the emergency seal under the counter and sends several rapid pulses of chakra into it, alerting every shinobi within a ten kilometre radius.
Because the man's hair has turned red.