The island exhaled a lung-scald that refused to disperse.
Sunlight flared across the volcanic stone paths leading away from the chasm, radiating a dry warmth that collided with the biting brine of the coast. Air dragged against Anko's lungs, shallow and uneven; the humidity clung inside her throat, making it difficult to draw deep. She hooked a thumb into the strap of her mini-skirt belt, fingertips snagging on the rough leather. Static from the bridge-snap still hummed beneath her nerves, and the chainmail links drank the sun, rings searing sharp points under the mesh where they pressed hardest.
Anko flexed her shoulders, trying to dry out the cling of sweat, but the movement only agitated the seal along her collarbone. It crawled—a gnawing beat that hooked under the skin and pulled toward her spine. The brand didn't just simmer; it throbbed in time with the distant, receding thunder, a reminder that Aoi remained closer than the fog suggested. She ground her molars out of sync, resisting the urge to claw at the ink.
Ahead, Idate's leg wraps dragged against his skin with every incline. A crooked hitch in his step worsened as his lead foot slid across a patch of black moss. He caught himself at the last second, body jerking to stay upright before his muscles caught the weight.
"Idate," Anko's voice carried across the thick air, "explain why Aoi managed to twist you like a fresh recruit. You crawled out of the Morino den just to become some tea-boss's pet?"
Idate froze. He didn't turn, but the muscles in his neck corded. "I know what I did. I'm doing this for Jirōchō. Not for Konoha. Not for you."
"You ran from Ibiki?" Anko stepped closer, a shadow falling over his shaking shoulders. The seal pulsed harder as her irritation flared, a hot needle of Orochimaru's lingering reach. "You think you know pain? Your brother doesn't just break people; he peels them open until they break, taking everything they think protects them. You chose to believe a traitor because she smiled at you. You don't mess up once, Idate—you live like that."
"Hey!" Naruto's words came out too fast, orange mesh tank top sticking to his ribs in jagged salt-lines. A red friction rash spread under the mesh along his collarbone where the moisture chafed. His arm swept wide, nearly snagging a low-hanging branch. "Idate got tricked! I know how it feels to—you can't just—!" The sentence broke on the last word, his jaw working as his expression lagged behind his anger.
"You chose to believe her, Naruto. That's on you." Anko held Idate's gaze, looking for where he'd crack. "Why are you so blind? Jirōchō is just another man using a broken tool."
Idate's lungs refused full expansion. "Jirōchō found me when I was bleeding out in the dirt. He didn't ask for a name. He asked if I could stand—even when my legs were shredded and I couldn't stop the tremors."
"And you're still on your knees," Anko's voice cracked mid-line. "Just in a different house."
The path steepened, roots erupting from the earth like black veins. Sylvie adjusted her head tilt, the glare flaring against her glasses and forcing a squint. The frames slid down the bridge of her nose, refusing friction against the sweat. "He took the place Konoha abandoned," Sylvie's voice carried a clinical weight, fingers brushing the cold steel of the ring in her pouch.
"He gave me a life!" Idate whirled around, the words cutting short. Face flushed, sweat tracked into his eyes. "You think everyone is a monster because you were raised by one!"
The brand flared with a white-hot spike of agony, feeding on the memory. Edges pulsed out of sync as a persistent grey static bled into the air in Anko's periphery. She lunged forward, tendons jumping under her skin as she caught Idate's collar. His breath stuttered; his throat worked against her knuckles as a gag caught behind his teeth, the skin of his neck blanching white under the pressure of her grip. Naruto stepped in, his hand catching Anko's sleeve to pull her back, his jaw setting unevenly—
CREAK.
The groaning wood of a weathered torii gate overhead broke the confrontation. Dust and fine splinters rained down as the ancient timber buckled under a sudden gust, the structure's skewed shadow sweeping across the dirt.
Anko's grip overcorrected for a heartbeat too long, her hand lagging behind intent. Idate violently twisted his shoulders, tearing himself out of the hold and stumbling back two steps. He clutched his throat; a rough, wet swallow sounded as he gasped for air. Anko's hand dropped, fingers stuttering in a tremble she couldn't suppress.
Naruto hovered between them, his fingers lagging before closing into a fist of shaky indecision before he turned toward the path. No one spoke; the only sound was the heavy, labored rasp of Idate's breath.
The stairs dropped away at the edge of the ridge. Anko drove her heel onto the first stone riser of the descent. Rickety wooden fencing, swollen with moisture and grit, offered a precarious barrier against the rocky drop they had just escaped. The basalt refused friction. Anko dropped to one knee, grabbing a guide-rope anchored to the cliff face. The rope oscillated out of sync with her steps, and the stone groaned around the anchor as she transferred weight. Grit ground into her palm, leaving a salt sting.
Below, Ichiban Yasai huddled in a natural hollow. A sudden plume of tea-steam billowed from a processing vat below, the cool mist breaking against Anko's overheated skin before the warmth turned wet and suffocating. The vapor surged up the ridge, outlines bleeding into the air.
Anko's focus skipped frames. The distance collapsed unevenly; she reached out to hold onto Idate's outline, but the steam thickened, making him appear to drift further away even as she moved. "Where is he?" she barked, the question breaking on a rasp. She lunged toward where she thought he stood, but the step collapsed short—the ground didn't meet her where she expected—and her shoulder caught hard on a damp wooden signpost.
She shook her head, forcing her eyes to track the double-image until focus returned. "Depth misreported," she muttered, her molars grinding out of sync. "Someone slips through that steam—he's gone. Move. Now."
They shifted down toward the market, the descent a steady drive of boots. The shock traveled into Anko's ankles with every grade. Scorched tea coated her tongue, a sticky residue in the back of her throat. Sylvie squinted; her lenses failed to clear the rising humidity. She had to tilt her head back to see over the smear. Naruto's breathing felt taxed; the heat pooled between the buildings, the air refusing to move. He kept stealing glances, eyes wide and uncertain.
Anko swept the roofs for movement in quick passes. She didn't trust the peace. She rubbed her neck; the brand finally retreated under the skin, though the nerves remained raw. Edges refused to widen, a lingering residue of the spike.
"Stay tight," the order came as a low vibration.
They pushed into the narrow entrance of the market. Sound forced its way into her skull—a compressed clatter of wooden knocks on stone and the roar of boiling irori. Warmth turned wet and suffocating as the crowd closed in. Wind died at the walls, which held the scent of unwashed skin and roasting leaves. A civilian shoulder clipped hers, and she instinctively tested the distance to her kunai. Too easy for a knife to slip through bodies here and vanish into the clatter before the blood hit the stone.
Idate stayed silent, his throat too raw to respond, his gaze locked forward as the market closed over them.