It didn't take long for Nanao to defeat their assailants in her rage-driven frenzy. What took a while, though, was for the events to actually sink in.

Sayaka was dead.

Dead.

She was gone, just like that.

It was a harsh reminder of their current standings as Shinobi. A reminder that was very much unwelcome.

"We have to keep moving."

It was a wonder how their Sensei seemed to be so unaffected. Shiki had started bawling after the initial shock had faded, and Kazuto was in a daze, in complete denial of it all. Yet the brunette was quickly back to her usual self. It seemed like an amazing feat to the two.

But through the haze that clouded his mind, the black-haired boy noticed the way she stood, stiffer than usual, the look of defeat in her eyes and the carefully hidden crack in her voice. Her expression was far more guarded than they'd ever seen — a delicate mask crafted over years of practice.

"...dreams died a year into the job."

A year? It'd taken barely two months for all his fantasies to be crushed.

She gave them some time to themselves before dragging them to their feet and getting them to help her bury the girl's body. They couldn't even take her back to the village. They were on a mission, after all. They had to deliver the scrolls, no matter what. They had no other choice.

The redhead was completely silent throughout, and this time it was Kazuto who let the waterworks loose.

But they didn't have time to dwell on it. Before long, they were back on the road, torn between wanting to stay more alert to avoid the same fate and drowning in their sorrow.

It had only been two months.

And it would always have only been two months.

•

It was a widely believed fact that it took a whole lot to affect Hyuuga Nanao on an emotional level.

But right then?

She was dying inside.

No, she was drowning, more like. Drowning in guilt. In complete self-hate.

It had happened again. And again, it was all her fault.

How many more times would she screw up like that? How many more would die because of her?

How many more people precious to her would disappear because of her?

She couldn't stop thinking about it. She just couldn't stop. And it hurt, just thinking about it.

It hurt so bad.

Everything just went over her head. She couldn't concentrate on anything except the thoughts swirling through her mind, causing nothing but pain. It was a miracle that she and the two boys — the two students she still had left — didn't run into any more trouble along the way. Maybe she'd missed one of the scoundrels and he'd run off to tell his friends to stay away?

She wasn't sure if she was glad for that or disappointed in herself for letting one of them escape.

There was no conversation along the way. None, except the short exchanges when she'd issue instructions or they'd relay information from lookout. Nothing except what was necessary.

She didn't blame them, really.

She would've been the same, if it hadn't happened before.

But it had.

And it wasn't a happy notion.

Before they all knew it, they were at the gates to the Hidden Sand Village. Somehow or the other, she scraped up what strength she had left to do all the talking. And that meant a lot of talking, with how skeptical their hosts were.

There were a lot of questions regarding their three-man platoon in contrast to the standard four-man one.

The mistake was realised as soon as they saw the looks on the Genin's faces and the sudden quiet of the Jounin.

They stayed in the village for a week, the two students mostly resting up while their teacher went on with further negotiations. There was no rest for her, and she almost preferred it that way. For a while, her mind was off . . . other things.

And she really, really needed it.

So in a way, she was resting.

The Kazakage had a response written up by the time they had to leave. And the smile she'd learned to fake so well was on her face as they exited the gates of the village to tackle the long journey back.

I'll have to be the one to tell Kouji-san, won't I?

And suddenly, home didn't sound so good anymore.

•

It all went by so fast.

One second, they'd been woken by their teammate screaming. The next, they were in the Sand. Right after that, they were back home.

It was all a blur to him.

Everything was a blur, colours mixing into a dizzying whirlwind, voices and words blending into an ear-splitting cacophony, his own thoughts filling his mind till it felt like it was about to burst. And, heck, he almost wanted it to burst, if it meant being rid of them.

It was just too sudden, too harsh, and just caused too much pain.

Somehow, it was the words their pink-haired former classmate had spoken that rose above the deafening chaos.

"Looks like somebody has a crush~! Good luck, Kazuto-kun!"

Good luck, huh? He could sure use some of that now.

But that wouldn't bring her back, would it?

No, nothing would.

All because he'd taken it all for granted.

He knew what he was getting into. He knew so well that the Shinobi lifestyle was harsh and unforgiving.

So why couldn't he take it when it was thrown right at his face?

Why couldn't he move on like a Shinobi should have, when losing someone so important to him?

•

It was just the day after they'd returned that they'd been told to gather at the usual place. The message was short and simple: Quit your moping and be at the training ground tomorrow morning.

By morning, she meant dawn.

That was to say, way too early.

Kazuto and Shiki were late, just like the first time they'd met their instructor. They'd almost been expecting to see the blonde girl on the log she'd been sitting on when they'd first gathered as a team.

But of course, that wasn't the case.

The Hyuuga woman was alone.

It must've shown on their faces, because whatever reprimanding words she'd been about to say died in her throat, and she just stayed silent for almost a whole minute.

"We're not going to have missions for the next three weeks, unless you'd like to get back at it sooner," she announced, finally breaking the silence.

There was no shock at that, and no complaints either. They weren't eager to get back in the field after all that had happened. Not so soon, anyway. If Shiki'd had it his way, they'd be on break even longer, but he knew that couldn't be.

As much as it hurt, they had to get used to it, because losing Sayaka would be the first of many more losses to come. And they had to get used to it, no matter how much it hurt.

They'd signed up for it, after all.

And now they had to deal with the consequences.

"Alright, well, the new member of the team will be joining us then."

"A new member?" the redhead repeated, frowning. "Why?"

The Jounin raised an eyebrow. "Three-man teams aren't exactly allowed."

"But—"

"Look," she interrupted, "I feel the same way as you do, I really do. But the world's not going to stop going round because Sayaka's dead. This team will eventually be back in the field, doing missions like always. And when that happens, we'll need a fully functional team to be working to the optimal capacity. If you don't like that, you're always free to leave."

Silence met her words.

They both knew she was right, but that didn't mean they liked it.

"Of course," the black-haired boy muttered, earning the immediate attention of the other two. "Because in the end, her death will only make us stronger." He shifted his gaze so his eyes met with hers. "Right, Sensei?"

"Yeah," she breathed, "that's exactly right."

•

It was strange to see his teammate's name on the Memorial Stone. After all, he'd been told it was where they put the names of heroes. Dead heroes, anyway.

"A hero, huh?" the boy mused, a wry smile curling his lips. "Say, what do you think of that? I don't think that's quite your thing, is it?"

She couldn't reply, of course. She wasn't around to hear it. Though he could imagine the snappish response she'd give if she had the chance.

With a sigh, he turned to leave, only to be cut off by a strangely familiar voice.

"Shiki-kun?"

He found himself looking at a face he almost wished he hadn't seen. He never thought he'd come to hate the fact that his teammate had looked so much like her distant cousin. But the girl had done nothing to have his frustration thrown upon her — on the contrary, she'd been very kind when they'd crossed paths every once in a while, a trait he hadn't quite associated with her during their Academy days.

"Ino," he greeted with a curt nod. "It's been a while."

A smile brightened her face, though it didn't reach her eyes. "It has, hasn't it?" She strode forward to stand beside him, leaning down to set the bouquet she held in her hands on the ground in front of the large stone. "How are Kazuto-kun and Nanao-sensei doing?" she added, her gaze on the stone still.

"Kazuto's taking his time," he responded, taking a while to think on his words. "He probably took it the harder out of us two. But, Nanao-sensei . . ."

The blonde looked up as he trailed off, a frown fixed on her face. She opened her mouth to prompt him, but he spoke up just before she did.

"She's completely breaking down."

•

"Nao."

She hated that nickname.

She really, really hated that nickname.

"What, you're sulking now? Oh, come on, I raised you better than that!"

There was the offhanded thought of being able to easily imagine Shiki saying something similar.

And then sheer irritation.

Groaning, she halted her hasty steps and turned to face the annoyance that had popped up out of nowhere to ruin the perfectly nice day she'd been having.

"Can I help you with something, Akihito?" she asked, her tone cold.

He seemed to pout at that, earning a roll of her eyes. "What happened to calling me Aki?"

"If I recall, I never called you that."

Sighing, he shook his head. "Come with me for a bit." At her look of disbelief, he offered a grin. "Humour me, please?"

With an exasperated sigh, she followed the unnaturally bright-haired boy, the excess of blue in his attire making it easy to keep track of him in the throngs of people, but her lack of energy to 'humour him' resulting in her falling far behind.

That was, until he decided to slow his pace to walk beside her and take hold of her hand.

She swore under her breath. "You do know that I'm still a Hyuuga, right?" she muttered. "I can blast your confounded arm into oblivion."

He shuddered noticeably, an awkward laugh escaping him as he reached up with his other hand to scratch the back of his head. "I'd really appreciate it if you didn't." Stealing a glance at the brunette, he slowly continued. "Shuu's meeting us at the usual place. I reckon you've forgotten the way by now."

Her silence was enough of an answer, drawing another laugh — more airy and carefree than the last — from the male beside her, while her face flushed, much to her annoyance.

It was strange how he acted much the same as she remembered him to way back when.

How many years had it even been since Team Miyuki had gathered?

A lot, if she was counting right.

She was quick to pull her hand out of his grasp as soon as they were out of the crowded streets, though he pretended not to notice.

The grounds that her old team had used as their meeting place weren't far off from the ones her new team used now. Sitting cross-legged in the centre of the field was the final oddity that comprised their team, his white hair making him look far older than he really was.

Tamazaki Shuuto quickly stood as his two friends entered his sight, a smile on his face as he greeted them. Small talk followed, and Nanao wasn't sure if she appreciated the casual conversation or hated it.

"Not that I don't appreciate this little reunion," she remarked after a good few minutes had passed, sarcasm heavy in her tone, "but is there a point to this, or is it just for your amusement?"

Akira Akihito looked offended. "Of course there is! How are you feeling?"

". . . highly aggravated."

Shuuto rolled his eyes. "That's not what he meant and you know it," he retorted. "We heard about what happened with your new team."

"And what of it?" she snapped, her mood worsening at the sheer mention of her recent shortcomings.

"Your student's dead, is what," Akihito helpfully added.

. . .

How was it that he'd been the negotiator back when they were an active team?

"Aki," the white-haired male scolded, "we discussed this."

She scoffed. "You discussed this?"

They shared a look before the blue-haired boy spoke again. "You broke your promise." A small smile — sadder than she thought she'd ever see on him — tugged his lips upwards. "You forgot, didn't you?"

Had she?

A soft, elegant voice spoke in her mind; an old, hidden memory that she hadn't bothered to dig out since.

"Since we're all still here after all this time . . ."

She really hadn't forgotten.

"I'd like you all to promise me something."

She'd just buried it as far down as she could, as she had with all other memories of the blonde woman.

"No matter what happens . . ."

She just wasn't strong enough to fulfil that promise.

"I want you all to promise me that you'll never lose your emotions . . ."

Even with the self-control she prided herself in . . .

"And to promise that you'll always keep the memories of this team close at heart."

She just hadn't been strong enough.

"To be strong in the way you've seen me to be, and to never lose these precious bonds."

"Do you remember now?"

Those words barely registered in her mind. She couldn't even tell who'd said it.

"What happened wasn't your fault, Nao."

She almost believed it, but not quite.

Tears that had been suppressed for too many long years rolled down her cheeks, sobs racking her body.

"Uh, what now?"

"This was your idea, idiot."

She laughed at that, but with her crying, it came out as a choked gasp.

"S—sorry?"

She wasn't even sure if she was laughing or crying anymore.

She'd missed them, she really had. And she'd been waiting so long for someone to convince her that she was wrong.

The pain of losing someone right in front of her very own eyes wouldn't just leave, and neither would the guilt of letting it happen — twice.

But that didn't mean it wasn't possible to move on while remembering them.

For her sake and theirs.

•••

E N D

•••

Word Count: 2,577
First Posted: 26/03/2016
Rewritten: 23/06/2016
Last Edited: 29/07/2016