Day 6
- A Warm Embrace -
The gates of Suna toss sand into Hinata's eyes as they are pulled back. The vibration of giant stone digging against the earth rattles through the bones of her calves, and with nothing to hold onto, Hinata is left to teeter and wobble. Some of the guards snicker from their posts along the wall. The shinobi in charge of taking her to the Kazekage Tower gives a helpless glance, but she waves a hand through the air, motioning that she's fine.
It's a long wait — or maybe Hinata's just being impatient. Of course, she knew about the dreaded heat of Suna. But knowing something and experiencing it first-hand are very different things, and Hinata feels every drip of sweat rolling down her body as the merciless sun glares on.
When the gate is pulled back, the shinobi calls for her to follow. She waves her thanks to the guards above, and they grin and cackle and wave back.
"Ain't that the temporary Ambassador from Konoha?" one of them asks.
"Lord Gaara is one lucky bastard," another coos.
Oh dear.
She's only just arrived, and already, Hinata feels flustered in the worst way possible.
...
Suna is surrounded by cliffs.
There are no mountains or great forests like there are in Konoha. Instead, there are golden cliff sides hugging the village, taller than any skyscraper Hinata's seen. She feels like an ant in the valley of a deep footprint. A hot ant, like the gods are watching her under the lens of their magnifying glass. Konoha gets up there temperature-wise, but it's nothing like this.
Suna is a cramped kind of place.
Konoha has wide streets and forests and farms and pastures. Suna is buildings stacked on each other and dusty parks in the corners of neighborhoods and bazaars so tight you'd surely bump into someone no matter how hard you try.
Hinata's not disgusted, per se.
She wanted different, and she got it.
It will just take some time to get used to it all, she supposes.
...
The shinobi escorting her to the Kazekage's Tower gets finicky the closer they come to their destination. He sort of reminds her of Naruto when he's been gone on a long mission and is finally returning to Konoha. He sort of wiggles, his shoulders moving up and down, his arms shifting, his steps irregular.
She thinks of his smile, and then she thinks about how it grows dim and heavy with guilt when it turns her way.
No good will come from remembering Naruto.
She's in Suna. She will think of Suna people.
The shinobi walks with a half-skip in his step that reminds Hinata of no one in particular, so she just follows along, trying her best to keep up.
...
The beige, curved buildings that make up the Kazekage's Tower cause a pause in Hinata's strides up the sandy staircase. The shinobi in front of her stops, as well, offering her a curious look over his shoulder. His wiggling has gotten more obvious. Clearly, he's in a hurry to go inside, but Hinata stands there a few, prolonged seconds.
She cannot help it.
When she looks at these buildings, she thinks of Kiba.
If he were here, he'd point at one of them and mimic the curve of their shape with his hands and snicker, "Yeah, I want all my women to look like that!"
In response, Shino would groan in dismay, never able to look at the tower in the same light again.
Hinata laughs, then quiets, then droops.
They won't be here with her. She'll have to do this alone.
"Hyuuga?" the shinobi calls.
Startled, she runs up to his side, apologizing. He waves her words off. He doesn't really care. He just wants to be inside.
...
It's only when they come into the spacious entryway of the tower that Hinata understands why the man was so eager to come inside.
Kankuro and Temari are gracious enough to greet them, dressed in what Hinata can only conclude being traditional Suna clothing, colored in beiges and reds and dark blues with scarves tied around their waists that are decorated in desert flowers. They almost look posed, like statues, and Hinata feels meek in her garb.
The shinobi next to her has a face as red as the sunrise as he bows at a perfect right angle, greeting them both, though his tone takes a noticeable wispy air when saying Temari's name. He introduces her as Hyuuga Hinata, and they smile politely because they know who she is. They pushed for her to be Konoha's temporary ambassador, after all.
"Thank you, Shohei." Temari's tone is level and feminine, perfect for the role she plays at the Kazekage's side.
The man gawks, flushes, then bows again before turning on his heels and leaving. When Hinata turns back to the two, Kankuro's smile has changed significantly, resulting in something much more devilish and wild. Temari's expression remains polite, though her gaze glitters.
"Welcome, Ambassador."
Kankuro slaps his hand over his mouth, muffling a laugh. Somehow, Hinata feels like she's the target of an inside joke between the two, and her confidence sinks from chest to stomach. Still, she smiles, and she greets them with a bow of her own.
"Thank you for greeting me."
"We'll take you to your room." The words barely left Temari's mouth by the time she's turning on her heels and walking down a hallway. "You'll be staying in the tower, of course. We have connected rooms to the Main Floor where you can find many of our offices and meeting rooms."
Kankuro lags behind, joining Hinata at her side. "You're just down the way from Temari's," he notes with a grin. "Ain't ya special?"
She follows, admiring the sway of Temari's scarlet skirt along the marble tiles. They pass down hallways that connect one building to the other. Sometimes, the roofs will be made of glass; other times, Hinata will be noting the piles of sand pressed against the window panes.
When they reach the housing building, Temari pulls a bronze key from her sleeve and unlocks a door, opening it wide for Hinata to enter. It looks like a regular studio from Konoha, with a section to remove her shoes before the floor lifts into birch floorboards. A tatami rug lies in the center, with a miniature kitchen set off to the left. The bathroom door is next to the closet door on the back wall, and there's a window to the right overlooking the village.
"To your liking, Ms. Ambassador?" Kankuro coos.
Keeping her smile, Hinata thanks them, not missing the look Temari and Kankuro shoot each other before they leave. Temari makes sure to hand Hinata her key before drifting away with her brother, leaving Hinata in that room. Unsure what to do with herself, she drops her pack to the floor, unpacking her clothes and letter set and the pack full of her favorite tea bags. There's a small, low table leaning next to the kitchen set, so she lowers it to the ground and places two picture frames on it: one of her team, the other with her and her sister hugging.
So this is the life of an Ambassador.
Hinata didn't know what to expect, so she can't say this is at all a letdown.
It seems rather obvious, however, that Temari and Kankuro don't welcome her here.
Should I greet the Kazekage? she wonders, flipping her key between her palms. They didn't tell me what I had to do after unpacking.
Coming to a person's home and not greeting them is nothing short of rude no matter where you live, so Hinata quickly washes her face in the bathroom and combs her hair, noting with surprise that there's no mirror over her sink, so she can only hope her appearance looks good enough. Once she's done, she pulls on her sandals and busies herself with trying to remember where the Kazekage's office might be.
...
It takes her almost twenty minutes, but she eventually finds it on the third floor. There's no one outside guarding the two, tall, mahogany doors, so she had passed it at least seven times before reading the metal sign above that clearly stated Kazekage Office.
Hinata has to take another two minutes to swallow down her embarrassment before she knocks the backs of her knuckles into the door.
And she waits.
Hm.
Nothing.
She knocks again, a little louder this time. Maybe he didn't hear her.
Still nothing.
First, she wonders if she missed him. Perhaps he's about the tower, searching for her!
Then, she remembers the snickers passed between Kankuro and Temari, and her mind aches. What if he doesn't welcome her here, either? What if he's ignoring her in there?
She shifts in worry, tracing her tongue against the backs of her teeth.
What to do.
She can't go back. She was asked specifically by the Hokage to be the ambassador. She made an oath! This is her mission!
She won't leave.
If they didn't want her to be their ambassador, then they shouldn't have picked her in the first place!
Mind made up, Hinata squares her shoulders and presses her hand against the knob.
"Lord Kazekage," she calls, "I'm coming in."
And so she does.
...
Hyuuga Hinata vaguely remembers Gaara, the current and well-known Kazekage of Suna. Tragically, most of her memories of her were once fuel for her nightmares, for he used to be a hateful, violent boy. She still recalls the fountain of blood he'd squeeze from his enemies. The stench gets trapped in her senses when she thinks about it for too long.
If he were still that man, then Hinata would not be a brave woman to willingly (and without permission!) walk into his office; instead, she would be foolish, and perhaps even dead.
But Konoha gossip tells her that Gaara is a changed man, and his close friendship with Lee and Naruto confirms that.
Hinata is not scared to meet the once demonic boy that she used to see following her in the shadows of her dreams.
Instead, she's . . . .
How should I word this?
To paint the image in an exact way that explains Hinata's confuzzled emotions: Lord Gaara, Kazekage, is a shaking, pacing corpse.
...
"Oh, good."
These are the first words he has ever said to Hyuuga Hinata.
Oh, good.
If you ask Hinata, there is nothing good about this situation. He's white like paper, with hands that shake without control, and he paces along the floorboards like he's preparing for a race.
In other words: Lord Kazekage is a pile of nerves, and just watching him makes Hinata's anxiety skyrocket.
"U-Um." Should she bow? That's the polite thing, isn't it? But she's scared that if she looks away for even a second, he'll trip over himself and earn a concussion from the hard floor. "Lord Kazekage, I —"
"Come here — please." That last word sounds like an afterthought as Gaara taps his hand on his desk. Either way, she has no reason to refuse his orders, so she comes to the side of the grand desk, where documents and papers and the official Kazekage stamp waits for her. "I need you to sign the first three at the top, then stamp the letters. You've already read over everything, so don't bother with them."
What? She's never seen these papers in her life.
"After that, I need you to write to Council Member Jigoku about his proposition regarding Suna's expansion." He's gone back to pacing. Hinata's head jerks back and forth to keep him in her line of sight. "It won't work, like you said. We'll have to —"
"Please — Lord Gaara!"
And, finally, he stops.
And he's still. Very, very still — like he's a dead corpse. His hands still tremble, but that's all.
Hinata gulps. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."
He doesn't throw his hand out, ordering her to leave. He doesn't yell or anything. He just, sorta, looks. At her. And she looks back. This is the first time she's able to meet his eye, and she watches how his pupils dilate, focusing in, realizing.
"Oh." Oh? "I . . . thought you were my sister."
Her attention turns to the letters, then back to him. Ah. Now I understand.
"Sh-Should I apologize?" she asks.
Gaara squints. "Why would you? I should —" He stops, again, and takes a moment to rub the swells of bone and knuckles down the backs of his hands. It's as if he's trying to rub the shake out of them, but it remains now matter what he does. "I apologize. I'm not really myself this morning."
Before Hinata can say a word, the doors fling open, and in come Temari and Kankuro. Kankuro notices her immediately and simpers, but Temari is busy reading the tiny print on the back of a small medicine bottle. "Gaara, just take two of these every four hours, and that should help your —"
Her words choke, and she freezes. She does not freeze like a caught child, nor does she freeze like she walked into a room she should not be in. Instead, Temari freezes in a unique, undiscovered way as her eyes dash between baby brother and new ambassador. That familiar glitter comes to her eyes, and at the same time, both Kankuro and she burst into a fit of laughter.
Hinata's hot with annoyance and shame and Suna heat. Gaara's nose wrinkles at the sight of his two siblings practically rolling around in their throws of giggles.
"Let me explain," he murmurs.
...
Apparently, alcohol makes Gaara shake.
"Terribly!" Temari had piped between gasps of air. "He's a mess with just a few shots."
Apparently, last night, in celebration of having passed legislation that all three siblings have been pushing for within the last year, Gaara had a few too many drinks.
"You should have heard all the shit he was spouting!" Kankuro had to rub tears from his eyes as he talked. "YOU were the center of it all."
And, apparently, Gaara, in his drunk, shaky state late at night, had been going on and on about her.
"On and on," Gaara repeats with a frown. "I wouldn't go that far."
Temari, ignoring him, continues on. "He's worried about first impressions, you see. To an aggravating degree."
"He didn't know how to address you," Kankuro adds. "Old man Ki went with anything we called him, but you — you're new, and you're Naruto's friend."
"Should I call her Ms. Ambassador?" Temari mocks, then cackles.
"Ms. Ambassador, shall I show you to your room? Ms. Ambassador, can you read my handwriting?"
While the fits of snorts and laughs seem a bit exaggerated to Hinata, she will admit that hearing someone like Lord Gaara fretting about properly addressing people does seem odd. But out of everything swarming in her head, she's more relieved than anything. So it was all an inside joke. They weren't laughing at her. Not exactly.
So she still has a chance to make this work.
"My siblings introduced themselves terribly," Gaara drones, his attention back to her. Hinata unconsciously straightens her spine under his serious gaze. He kind of reminds her of Neji when Hanabi used to go out of her way to embarrass him. He'd perfect a cold, unbothered look, but there was something in the waver of his gaze that revealed hints of embarrassment. Gaara has that kind of look, and Hinata politely says nothing about it. "Welcome to Suna . . . Ambassador Hinata."
She smiles, taking his outstretched hand. "Thank you, Lord Gaara."
Temari and Kankuro are busy collecting themselves in the corner of the office.
Unstamped letters and unsigned documents are still within an arm's reach, so Hinata says, "I'm not sure I'll be able to copy your signature . . . but I can seal these letters, and I can write what you asked of me."
Temari is busy with Kankuro. A slither of sand wraps around the forgotten bottle of medicine, bringing it to the desk.
Gaara massages his thumb into his trembling palm, and then he nods. "Please."
It's been months, but still, when Hinata awakes, she rubs her hands over her eyes and expects sand to be there.
"Sleeping sand," Kankuro used to call it when he'd catch her just after a shower, where she would spend most of the warm water trying to rub the exhaustion and dusty grime from her eyes. "I'll tell Gaara to go easy on the stuff next time."
That had been their joke. They'd make up stories about Gaara creeping into every bedroom in Suna to sprinkle sleeping sand into the eyes of civilians and shinobi alike. It seems even the Konoha Ambassador wasn't safe from his spells.
It feels like eons ago.
It feels like a distant memory or a foggy dream.
But Hinata knows it's real.
There's a tan bloom to her arms. There's three dull knives in her heart. There's instinct in her legs, dragging her to the showers once she wakes.
...
She dreams about Suna, sometimes.
She dreams that the walls of her apartment will peel back to reveal sand and dusty streets and great, golden cliffs. Kankuro would lead her through dunes, saying, "Ms. Ambassador, watch your step. Ambassador Hinata, we're almost there. Hinata, where have you been all these months?"
She can't tell him.
In her dreams, she's forgotten the place named Konoha.
She just smiles up at the sun, and he takes her to Temari, to Gaara, to Suna.
...
Hinata's dabbing a hand towel along her face when three knocks come to her front door. Her hair is still damp, and her clothes aren't impressive at all, but she's greeted people in worse conditions. It might be Lee, informing her about another mission; or, it could be Kiba, groaning about his empty stomach and using those puppy-dog eyes he's perfected to convince her to take him out for breakfast.
Leaving the bathroom connected to her bedroom, Hinata crosses the floor, pushes some wet strands of hair out of her face, and finds Sasuke there, on her porch, early in the morning.
With a bloody nose.
Oh dear.
...
She sometimes hears Kankuro say, "What's the big deal? It's just Hinata."
Then she hears Gaara: "Konoha is your home. Not here."
Sometimes, they're dreams.
But, usually, they're nightmares. Nightmares that play in the day. The dusty mirror in the second bathroom that she does not clean because, desperately, she wants something to remind her of Suna — whenever she looks at it, she sees that Hinata she used to be, that 'just' Hinata that they left out in the sand and sun, locked out, the moment they were done with her.
Two years.
Two years now turned into day nightmares, terrifying, but not enough to force her hand and clean her mirror. That damn mirror.
Until Sasuke comes to wipe blood from his nose. She rushes for a towel, and when she comes back, she watches his bloody hand reach up and wipe a long crescent down the middle of that damn mirror. He turns Suna into Konoha, bloody and clean at the same time.
She sees herself for the first time. She looks crystal. She looks new.
Not rejected.
Not ignored.
Not forgotten.
Sasuke wipes her face until it's clean, and in the reflection, he finds her, and he does not look away.
...
Uchiha Sasuke has a strange way of making her feel . . . strange.
"It's minor. You look like I'll fall over dead."
He had traced shapes into her forehead. Symbols. Symbols of places all over the ninja world, but when it had been Konoha's leaf, it just felt right. It felt like it was tattooed there, and he was merely tracing the ink. It felt like he was writing her name on her skin.
Hinata hasn't felt like she's belonged in Konoha for a long time. She's felt like someone disguised as Hyuuga Hinata, pretending to be her — eating her food, using her weapons, conversing with her friends. One day, she'll wake up, and she'll realize she's not that person. She'll realize she's neither from Konoha nor Suna nor anywhere else in the world. She's just a husk. A stranger.
Sasuke woke her up and made her feel real.
"You belong everywhere," he had said, and she had believed it.
Imagine that.
Hyuuga Hinata — belonging everywhere.
"Keep your head down so the blood doesn't go down your throat." Reaching his side, she works to clean his mouth and chin that are slick with blood. The collar of his shirt is stained, and no towel can help much with that, so she then lifts it to his nose to catch the remaining blood dripping out. "What happened?"
"I wasn't paying attention," is all he says.
...
After about ten minutes, the bleeding stops. Sasuke's kind enough to humor her afterwards, letting her examine his nose to make sure it's not broken. Satisfied that it's not, she finally leaves him alone, examining the bloody crescent left on her mirror instead.
"Sorry about that," he murmurs.
Hinata shakes her head. "I was meaning to clean it anyways."
...
She fixes them both a late breakfast as the sun is close to reaching the peak in the sky. Sasuke eats like he's a starving man, which sparks a sense of worry for her. Does he have enough money for food, or is he not eating enough? She doubts Kakashi would allow either of the two to happen under his careful watch, so Hinata tells herself to not fret over an issue that may not even exist.
"Do you like to cook?" he asks when she's collecting dishes to throw into the new dishwasher she'd just gotten last month.
Hinata doesn't have to think about it, but she lets the pause stretch for a few moments. Sasuke's her friend, but it's still hard to fathom that he's in her home, asking about her hobbies. "Yes."
"I can tell. It was good."
She just grins at him, unsure what to say.
"I wouldn't mind if you cooked for me for the rest of my life."
Now she really doesn't know what to say. Flustered, she forgets to put a few dishes in the washer before running it. Not that she really minds. Cleaning them by hand will help distract her until she remembers the normal pull and push of breath through her lungs.
When Sasuke offers to help, she shoos him away, so he sits at the low table and watches her like she's performing art, like she's painting a landscape, like she's dancing the waltz.
...
"I'm going to go grab groceries."
It's mid-afternoon, and Sasuke still hasn't left. Well, to be fair, she hasn't kicked him out, either. She doesn't want to. She wants him to stay.
But she has chores, and it's awfully rude to leave a guest unattended at her home.
Understanding, Sasuke stands and fits on his sandals. "Great. I'll join you."
And thus, suddenly, they're going grocery shopping together.
...
They start with her list of groceries, going down the aisles with one basket hooked on Hinata's arm and another hooked on Sasuke's. They start with the fruits, slowly moving towards the vegetables, then end up in the meat section. At the bottom of her list, Hinata has Sugar Packets written clear as day, but she's quick to shove the piece of paper in her pocket before Sasuke sees.
She'll get that on a different day.
...
Sasuke grabs dish soap and a bottle of spray used for cleaning wood.
"I thought you needed groceries," she says as they make their way to the grinning lady at the cash register.
He says nothing. He simply swipes a bag of cherry tomatoes as they pass by and throws it into his basket.
...
The sun is beginning to set when they come back to her home — a word she can now say with confidence, no longer bowing her head or murmuring the syllables through pressed lips. She prepares dinner without asking because he's not leaving and, again, she does not want him to leave. A home feels more like a home with more people in it.
Sasuke has the look of a man who hates to just sit and wait, so Hinata asks him to set the table and place the finished dishes in the middle. From time to time, when she looks away from her cooking to eye the slope of his back bent over the table, she marvels at his careful consideration. He puts the sweeter things closer to her side of the table. The kimchi is next to his spot.
Uchiha Sasuke is a different man when in the dim light of sunset.
It's been a long time since she's seen him in the dark. Back then, they were practically strangers meeting suddenly in the roads of Konoha.
It's different now.
She's met with him almost every day for the past month. They go to Choji's place for breakfast every so often because the staff there don't 'accidentally' forget to take Sasuke's order or 'accidentally' pour water on his lap. They breathe in the morning dew and meditate to the songs of dancing trees and chatting birds. They know each other now. They're friends.
But . . .
Something about the dark makes things murky and unclear.
Uchiha Sasuke is still Uchiha Sasuke, but he's different, somehow.
He's her friend. That's still true.
But when they sit together to eat — when she breaks his chopsticks apart, and he doesn't scowl or gripe or complain — he just waits like it's normal . . . .
Hinata's . . . not sure how to describe it.
Perhaps she's tired.
That might be it.
...
"I'll walk you home," she says, pulling on her shoes.
If Sasuke had still been in Konoha years ago, such a statement might have been met with a grimace. Why would Uchiha Sasuke need to be walked home? He's perfectly capable, and he hates pity and self-serving people.
In many ways, that all still holds true.
They both know that.
But he nods, and he pushes on his shoes with her, and he waits on the porch while she locks her door before joining her into the dark streets.
...
"You told me I make Konoha feel like home." It's been echoing in her head, believe it or not. When she thinks of Konoha, she thinks of those words. When she thinks of him, she thinks of those words. The traced symbols embedded in her skin come alive, buzzing with attention, and she can't ignore that strange and wonderful sensation.
"You do," he says.
"What do you mean?"
"You make Konoha feel full."
Full — as in something's missing when she's not here. Should she say the same thing to him? Would that make him as happy as she feels?
In the midst of debating on this, Hinata doesn't have the chance to speak before Sasuke continues.
"Do you miss Suna?" he asks.
Suna? Almost, for a moment, she'd forgotten the word. It has to roll around in her mind, re-familiarizing itself. It hooks itself into her synapses and holds on for dear life, and everything clicks and comes into place, and that infamous weight of dread returns to her stomach.
"Yes," she says, because it's the truth. "I do. But I don't know if I'll ever return."
He doesn't ask why? Hinata's not sure if she's glad or disappointed.
"Tell me if you ever plan to go," he says. They turn on the main street through the busy district of Konoha, which will ultimately lead to Kakashi's place. Even at night, the streets are full, and she stays close to his side to keep up. "I'll follow you."
"You're joking!" she gasps.
"No," he says, and he's telling the truth, too. His tone is nothing but serious. "I'd follow you anywhere."
Her heart jumps, and Hinata has to assess herself.
That's an . . . awfully intimate thing to say. Sasuke's not the kind of person to say things in throws of passion. If he says it, he means it. He'd — he'd actually follow her. And it sounds a bit flirty, but her hands aren't shaking, and her heart isn't trying to run away, and her breathing is even. He's not like the jonin who flirt with her for the thrill of the reaction or to simply get in her pants.
He's being genuine.
And just because it seems intimate to her doesn't mean he meant it in that way.
Turns out, Sasuke is a considerate friend.
"Poor Sai will be lonely," she mentions.
He snorts and smirks. "I have a feeling he'll be too busy for me in the next few weeks."
Ah. Hinata doesn't have to ask. It's pretty clear with how he speaks — Sai's got a crush on someone.
"What about you?" she asks. It'd be awful if he made all these promises that forced him into a corner: break his word and stay in Konoha, or stick to it and leave his potential beloved behind?
But Sasuke doesn't look at all bothered.
He just gives her a knowing look. "I'm working on that."
...
Kakashi's home is a brick building surrounded by a dark, metal fence with edges so sharp that they could cut you if you weren't careful. Honestly, Hinata thinks it fits both the residents of the building, and she smiles to herself as she walks Sasuke to the door.
"Sleep well," she tells him, "and . . . thank you."
He gives her a look. "What did I do? You were the one who let me stay over all day."
Maybe that's true, but Hinata's living out her happiest days because of his comfort, and she feels like she'd be horrible if she didn't at least acknowledge that much.
Grinning, she takes his hand between hers and squeezes. His skin is warm, which makes sense. She grew up with stories from her aunts and uncles detailing how fire flows in Uchiha blood. Of course, she's old enough to not believe that literally; but in a metaphorical sense, it has to be real.
Uchihas are warm people.
Especially this one.
So she holds that warm hand between her two slightly-less-warm hands, and she brings it to her face and breathes her gratitude through her fingers like she's praying.
And Sasuke stays.
He does not pull away. He comes closer, his chin just barely touching the crown of her head.
"Good night."
His voice vibrates through his fingers, into hers.
She thinks his words will be stuck in her knuckles all night, buzzing and warm.
...
Soon, she's on her way back home. The drone of voices along the busy street melt into her ears, and she doesn't make an effort to distinguish anything being said.
Until she hears one word: Uchiha.
Then, Hinata pauses, turning her head, listening for the conversation.
There's a group of teenagers stood in front of a closed coffeehouse, biting the ends of their cigarettes as they push and shove each other around. One of the boys is tall, and every so often, he raises his right fist to show off the red knuckles, and the boys hoot and howl, awed that he managed to land a hit on that Uchiha bastard without getting killed.
Oh.
So that's what happened that caused Sasuke's bloody nose.
Perhaps . . . home can wait.
...
Needless to say, come the following morning, there's stories of how four teenage boys woke up in the pig pens out by the southern end of Konoha.
It was strange, really.
They don't know how they got there. They just woke up, expecting to be home; instead, they were covered in mud and manure, listening to the snorts of curious pigs looking down upon them.