Until We Meet Again (Part 3 to the TBT Trilogy)

Chapter 10

The funeral had ended in silence, but the grief didn't vanish with the crows circling overhead. Konoha moved forward, because it had to. Missions were still assigned. Teams still reported in. The world didn't pause for anyone—not even for a shinobi like Asuma.

The scent of rain still clung to the village the next morning—sharp, clean, and strangely cruel. Hana stood outside the Hokage's tower, eyes tired but focused. Her long crimson hair was pulled over one shoulder in soft waves, ends damp from the lingering drizzle. A sky blue top hugged her frame, sleeves slightly pushed up, exposing the painted curve of her deep crimson nails. Her dark shinobi pants ended just above her ankles, revealing strapped sandals, and the Konoha headband was secured at her waist with a dark navy sash.

There was no armor, no mask—just presence. Quiet, firm, and unshakable.

She hadn't slept much, not since the funeral. But rest was a luxury, and shinobi didn't get luxuries. Not anymore.

She exhaled once, then stepped through the doors.

Inside, Tsunade sat at her desk, the weight of Hokage duty heavy in her expression. She handed Hana a scroll with a sketch of the rogue ninjas.

"So please," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Be careful on this mission. Once you locate them, do not engage. Infiltrate, gather intel, and return. That's an order."

Hana bowed after pocketing the scroll. "Understood, Lady Tsunade. I'll be off, then."

As she stepped back into the corridor, the air felt colder. Her heeled sandals echoed softly across the polished floor as she made her way toward the village gates.

The weight of the past few days settled over her shoulders like a soaked cloak—unshakable. Asuma's death. The funeral. The whispers of rogue shinobi circled like vultures.

They caught wind of our loss, she thought grimly. Now they think we're weak. Vulnerable.

The sky overhead was a thick sheet of gray, mirroring the heaviness in her chest. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, nails biting into her palms.

She didn't fear the rogue shinobi.

She feared losing more of the people she loved.

"Leaving without saying goodbye?"

The familiar voice stopped her mid-step.

She turned. Kakashi stood a few feet away, hands tucked into his pockets, one eye visible and unreadable beneath his headband. His tone was casual—but his gaze said otherwise.

Hana gave him a look. "Didn't want to make it a thing."

"You say that like this isn't a thing," he replied, walking toward her. "You're going on a solo mission right after burying one of your closest friends. That is a thing, Hana."

She said nothing at first, her eyes drifting toward the village gate. "I can handle it."

"I don't doubt that," Kakashi said quietly. "That's not what worries me."

Her jaw clenched.

"You've been holding everything in," he continued. "For days. For years, maybe. That doesn't make you strong. It makes you human."

Hana looked away. "You know I don't have time to fall apart."

"I'm not asking you to," Kakashi said, stepping beside her. "Just... don't forget that grief doesn't go away because you bury it under missions."

There was a silence between them. The kind that only came with history—raw, quiet, unspoken.

"I'll be back," Hana finally said.