kawaki uzumaki

The wind was colder than usual. It stretched between the trees, tearing the last of the wilted leaves from their branches and drifting low over the ground as if searching for answers in the fog that hung on the horizon.

Kawaki stood at the edge of the road, where the dirt merged with the dry gravel, and looked ahead to where the hills began. Where an ancient shrine had once stood, and now something was burning again. He didn't ask questions. He knew that if the Hokage had given the order, then the chances of making a mistake were nil. At least for everyone but himself.

He exhaled through his nose - almost inaudibly, as everything about him lately: no sudden movements, no wasted words. Everything was subordinate to purpose. He knew all too well what it meant to lose control.

His back ached from sitting in the saddle for so long - he had traveled nearly a third of the way to the ruins in the past twenty-four hours. Another day at the same pace and they'd be close by. “They are,” he thought with a shadow of annoyance. He didn't like that word.

Kawaki glanced away without turning his head. The one they'd paired him with was “just a partner,” as Shikamaru put it. Safe, trusted, no ‘extra questions’. A lie, of course. In reality, an observer. A liaison. Ballast.

He knew why he was here: to keep an eye on how far he'd go if he smelled trouble. To hold him back if Karma erupted. Or maybe cover if the situation got out of hand. Kawaki himself doubted he needed any company at all. But he didn't argue. Not because he agreed - because it was a waste of time.

• We're going," he said quietly, not turning around. His voice sounded smooth, almost emotionless, like a man for whom any decision has already been made.
• If you fall behind, don't expect me to turn around.

He took the first step toward the hills, toward where the unknown lay. A branch crunched beneath his feet, but he did not slow his step. Time was running out. And he had only forty-eight hours to f