It was going to be a long trip.

Tedious, exhausting, and very much life-threatening. Really nothing new for the average Shinobi.

Which Sayaka wasn't.

If this was Fate messing with her, she would have to kindly ask for it to stop. It wasn't so long ago that she'd broken down in front of her mother's grave. Just the thought of being out there had scared her bad enough to reduce her to tears. It could only get so much worse when facing it head-on.

Strangely enough, she managed to keep up her mask. While it was more obvious than usual — in the sense that her teammates could easily tell that something was up — it was better than displaying her weakness for all to see.

She calmed herself by focusing on other things. Rather than letting her eyes settle on the ground below her as always, she kept them trained in front of her and her senses alert. No matter how much Nanao-sensei insisted that it wasn't very dangerous till they left the outermost reaches of the Fire Country, she wasn't convinced. She was terrified, and that often led to paranoia.

They took their first proper break four hours in. It was still long before noon, at around nine in the morning. They leapt down from the trees, the three Genin collapsing immediately due to exhaustion.

Sayaka was almost happy for the tiredness. It kept her mind off her fear, although it didn't rid her of it completely. Sighing, she pulled her knees to her chest and buried her head in her arms, closing her eyes and slipping away into a calming semi-consciousness.

That feeling only lasted for a second as she was assaulted by a barrage of 'what if's.

I'm really losing it now.

It didn't make sense to her how she had the heart to make that wry comment when she couldn't even begin to conjure up the strength to deny all the possible scenarios playing in her head.

She barely heard her teammate call out to her from right in front of her.

It was strangely reminiscent of those times when she'd been in a deep sleep and her mother had come to drag her out of bed, calling her name repeatedly and pulling her out from the clutches of peaceful slumber.

Honestly, everything seemed to remind her of that blonde woman at the moment — right down to the blades of grass at her feet, bringing memories from when she'd visited that meadow with her.

She finally looked up, and the first thing to enter her line of sight was a bottle of water. Her confusion must have been obvious on her face, judging from Shiki's slightly amused remark.

"It's for drinking."

It was a few blinks later that she finally understood. "O—oh, thank you . . ." she finally replied, holding out her hands to take the flask from him.

The redhead was being uncharacteristically patient and understanding, although she didn't notice it. Normally, he would've either been chortling or throwing careless comments about how slow she was.

At that moment, however, he opted for silence. He plopped down next to her, staring off into the distance as the blonde took a slow gulp of water. She set the bottle down between them, rubbing a hand at her eyes to rid them of their weariness.

It was then that she realised that they were wet. She stared at the slight hints of moisture on her fingers before furiously rubbing at her face with both hands.

She couldn't let people see her in such a state. But the boy beside her already had.

She'd already messed up, bad.

"It's okay to cry, you know," Shiki suddenly spoke up. "You're just as human as the rest of us."

She let her arms fall on her lap, not even attempting to reply.

Did she really come across as someone not very human?

A humourless laugh almost escaped her at that.

The mask might have been working a bit too well.

•

She was grateful for Shiki's company.

She never thought she'd actually be glad to have that loudmouth around, but she was. After that short exchange, he'd gone back to his usual goofy ways, and succeeded in bringing a smile to her face more than once, much to his delight.

The Jounin of the team was gathering food for them while the third member was on lookout. They hit the road again an hour later, having rested and eaten to replenish their energy.

And Sayaka? She was in better spirits than she'd been before the break.

This time, they were moving nonstop with a few short breaks speckled here and there. It was at night that they took another long break, when it got so dark out that they could barely see right in front of them.

Nanao took first watch, claiming none of them were yet adept enough in chakra sensing or heightening their other senses to make anything of the endless darkness. They didn't complain — they desperately needed the rest.

After scraping up what they could for a hasty dinner and setting up traps around their camp, the trio of Genin were just about ready to collapse. If they'd been tired before, it was nothing compared to how their bodies ached now.

Sayaka had asked Nanao to wake her when it got light enough to see so that she could take the next watch. The two boys had been intentionally taking on all the work, ignoring her ceaseless protests and insisting that it was fine, much to her utter dismay, and it was about time she contributed something to their little expedition.

The blonde sprawled out on the bare earth, lying on her back near the ashes of the fire they'd lit earlier. It was a cold night. Her cloak was draped across her as a makeshift blanket, though it did nothing against the piercing chill.

Eventually, with the sounds of the forest creatures chorusing from all around her, she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

She had never been one to dream.

•

There was definitely a sense of discomfort around the team. Nanao was greatly aware of the obvious fear that had gripped the the only female Genin, although she hardly knew what to do.

She hadn't even been capable of feeling emotions for the earlier years her life. It was still a concept that was unclear to her, and handling it seemed like an impossible feat.

Yamanaka Miyuki had had emotions and morals. She had made them a strength rather than a weakness. Her will had been derived from her love for others.

So why was it that the ability to feel was what seemed to be drowning her daughter?

Her eyes closed for just a second as she took a deep breath to regain her bearings.

Now's not the time.

Her team was asleep, defenceless, just behind her. She needed to stay alert, or they'd all die there.

They were quickly nearing the Wind Country's borders, and the area they were in was known to be quite dangerous. It was a decent stretch that had a small village just beyond, so if they could cross this area, they'd be out of the most perilous parts and be able to rest up properly in the village beyond.

If the people were feeling welcoming, they'd have real beds to sleep in and no need for constant lookout.

Her eyes were back open, staring out into the darkness. Being on lookout was the most annoying job one could ever have. Sitting still as a statue while keeping your senses alert . . . it did not in any way appeal to her. Especially in the dead of night, when your eyesight failed you and you had to rely on your other senses.

Slight movement from behind her almost made her jump. A quick glance brought a sigh to escape her lips.

"Can't sleep?"

The girl shook her head. "I just woke up."

The brunette gave her an incredulous look. "Nightmares, then?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

" . . . Something like that," she conceded, cautiously stepping around the trip-wire that had been set up to take a seat beside the the Jounin. "Nanao-sensei?"

She spared the blonde sitting next to her a short glance before returning her attention to the surroundings. "Yes?"

"Did you . . . know my mother?"

Her breath hitched in her throat at those words. She was thankful for the darkness as she stubbornly kept her gaze in front, hoping the girl hadn't noticed her discomfort. She finally spoke with a sigh. "I take it you don't remember me, then?"

"Remember you . . .?" The girl frowned, shaking her head. "I've only ever heard from Father about you. You're an amazing ninja, according to him." She was silent for a while, but when Nanao was about to reply, she spoke again. "But . . . that illusion. You were . . . one of her students?"

Another sigh left her lips as she nodded, before realising that she couldn't see her. "Yeah," she replied, biting her bottom lip and contemplating her next words. "I was."

"So we've met before?"

She nodded, eyes still in front of her. "Many times, actually. Before . . . she died, we'd come over to your house pretty often, mostly for the other two to taunt your father." The recollection drew a chuckle from the Hyuuga. "I'm not surprised you don't remember though. It only makes sense to want to forget everything associated with someone so dear to you once they've passed away. Believe me, I know. I did the same thing."

It was hard not to believe her when she spoke so knowingly.

"I remember Akira-san and Tamazaki-san though," she said after a while, her voice even quieter than before. "They used to stop by even after . . ." The words wouldn't continue, but both of them were completely aware of what she meant.

Nanao smiled wryly, the names of those two sounding so completely familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. After all, she'd not spoken to them even once after that incident. "Apparently, I was the weakest one on our team. While those two were able to move on with the pain, I was unable to forgive myself for it. I blame myself for what happened, and, well, I'm not the only one who does."

She couldn't bring herself to use past tense, just as she couldn't bring herself to mention the person by name. The girl beside her didn't need to know that her teacher was the one person her father would never forgive.

Silence descended upon them, comforting and suffocating at the same time. She wasn't sure how she felt about the situation, although the confusion may have been due to the exhaustion wearing at her.

"You should rest, Sensei," the soft voice of the blonde suddenly insisted. "I'll take over."

With a nod of acknowledgment and no strength to argue, she stood and made her way over to where the two boys lay.

It was . . . satisfying, to have let it all out. She'd already resolved to tell Sayaka everything if — no, when she asked, and it felt quite pleasant to have it all off her chest.

It would make sense now why she'd been there at the meadow.

The last place where Mizumoto Miyuki's two families — her team, and her husband and their daughter — had been together as a whole.

The last time the Mizumotos had seen her alive.

The night had seemed so serene, at that moment. So safe, and away from danger.

She should've known that after the calm, the storm always followed.

She was so stupid.

Knowing the girl had a keen eye and wouldn't let anyone pass, she allowed herself to relax. She slowly sank into a peaceful sleep, the waves of exhaustion aiding the descent.

She should've known that the conversation wouldn't have been as pleasing for Sayaka as it had been for her.

She should've known that she'd be off her game.

She should've known better than to leave her out there, all alone.

It was no wonder, really, that what happened had happened.

And again, it was all her fault.

•

The reason why she'd offered to take up lookout was the fact that she knew she wouldn't be getting any sleep anytime soon. She needed a distraction, like she always did. She needed to keep herself from dwelling on the words that had been spoken by her instructor.

It was hard, though.

To think that the one she'd thought to be so strong, so unbreakable, had been affected much the same as she had by the death of her mother . . .

No, she'd felt it even worse. She'd been there. She was convinced that it was her fault.

Her own pain couldn't even begin to compare to the impossible guilt Nanao felt.

But she was still there, doing her job, being strong, teaching them, while all she could think of was running away.

You might think you're weak, Sensei . . .

But you're the strongest person I know.

So with those thoughts running errant in her mind, she forgot entirely about the job she'd volunteered to do.

Right when the will to continue as a Shinobi might have been reignited — but had it even been there before? — it turned out that it didn't matter.

She wasn't one who was meant to survive, after all.

A scream ripped through the still night, and impossible pain bloomed from all over her body.

She hadn't noticed a thing before it was far too late.

And so she fell into the darkness.

•

The last thing Kazuto wanted to wake up to was an all too familiar voice shrieking. He was up in an instant, and so was Nanao, their eyes locking for a short second. It was enough for him to see the pure horror in her eyes.

"Wake him," she ordered sharply, scrambling to her feet and running to the source of the scream — which was very close by, at the lookout post.

He quickly complied, shaking the other boy awake. His sleepy complaints were cut short as he saw the look in his friend's eyes.

He knew that voice.

He knew it too well.

Making wild grabs for their weapons, the two of them rushed to the scene. The darkness had somewhat receded, but not enough for their surroundings to be easily made out.

But that didn't matter.

What mattered was that there was someone there, lying on the ground, unmoving.

And that blonde hair was impossible to miss.

"No," Kazuto found himself whispering. "No, no, no, no, no . . ."

That couldn't be.

She couldn't just—

"Don't just stand there!" their Sensei shouted harshly. She would've continued, barking out orders like she normally did, but she didn't have a chance. She was fighting the shadows, and a whole lot of them at that.

The ones who did this to her.

Shiki had long since left his side to crouch down beside the body — beside Sayaka. A green aura was around his hands as they hovered over her prone body.

He knew it before the words had even left his friend's lips.

The redhead looked up with wide eyes, the green glow fading till it was gone.

"She's—"

He still hoped against hope that he was wrong. Even though he already knew.

"She's gone."

•

Word Count: 2,566
First Posted: 22/03/2016
Rewritten: 20/06/2016
Last Edited: 29/07/2016