Day 1 (Nov 9)
The atmosphere in central tea was pressing against my ribcage until every breath felt like inhaling warm silt.
The leather straps of my pack bit into the damp meat of my shoulders, leaving salt-stung welts that throbbed with every heavy step.
My limbs felt like leaden weights, barely clearing the basalt outcrops as the midday heat turned the world into a shimmering blur.
Anko stopped at the edge of a cedar grove.
She looked back at us, her breathing rhythmic and undisturbed while Naruto and I dripped.
She reached up and unbuttoned her signature tan trenchcoat, shedding the canvas like a molting serpent.
"Too damn hot for this," she grunted.
Beneath the coat, she wore a tight, skin-toned undershirt that hugged her torso, visible through a layer of interlocking metal chainmail.
The rings glinted with a mercurial light as she stretched her bare arms, emphasizing an unhindered range of motion.
A burnt-orange mini-skirt sat secured by a thick belt, and her bare legs descended into metal shin protectors.
Naruto looked ready to collapse.
He ditched his high-collared jacket, revealing a fitted mesh tank top that turned his shoulders into a map of sun-reddened skin and dark netting.
"Sylvie, watch this!" he chirped, his voice raspy.
Scritch-zip.
He yanked hidden zippers on his orange pants, detaching the lower halves to reveal knee-length shorts.
I adjusted my own new silhouette, the polarized lenses of my black-rimmed glasses shielding the back of my sockets from the glare.
I had discarded the schoolgirl knock-off for a sleek black tank top over mesh.
My pink athletic shorts allowed for better airflow, though the weight of Orochimaru's Akatsuki Void Ring in my left thigh pouch remained a constant pressure.
Anko put her hands on her hips. "Put your heavy clothes away. I'm not hauling you if you pass out."
Naruto and I traded a look of confusion.
Kakashi shrugged, the navy fabric of his short-sleeved tee shifting over his biceps.
"I don't teach fuinjutsu, Anko."
I fidgeted with the utility seals in my hip pouch. "Hiruzen-sensei only taught me basic containment... not storage."
Anko facepalmed, the thwack echoing through the trees. "Aren't you friends with the buns-girl? Tenten's a walking warehouse. You should be learning from everyone, kid."
I looked at the dirt.
My mind began to run a frantic recalculation: five kilos of iron and canvas, three liters of water, and spare rations, all carried on raw shoulders for three countries.
The inventory weight felt like an indictment of my own lack of foresight.
"It's fine!" Anko sighed. She unfurled a long scroll with a sharp fwoop, revealing empty geometric formulas. "Drop your stuff here."
Naruto stared at the scroll, then at the massive pack he had been lugging.
He fell to his knees, slamming a fist into the parched grass. "WE COULD HAVE BEEN DOING THIS THE ENTIRE TIME?!" he bellowed. "WHY?! WHY!!!!"
Day 2 (Nov 10)
At our next rest stop, the shade offered no relief from the humidity.
The sun drilled into the crown of my head as we moved through the Mt. Kirikabu foothills.
The mountain loomed like a giant's tree stump, its flat top shimmering through a haze of heat.
My legs felt like knots of hot wire, a sensation that intensified with every elevation shift.
I focused on the rhythmic shluck-shluck of my sandals in the riverbeds, trying to ignore the way my glasses kept sliding down my sweat-slicked nose.
Idate paced the perimeter.
He didn't even have a sweat-break at his temples. He watched Anko, who sat sharpening a kunai, the steel shrrr-ing against stone.
"Why are you two so jumpy around her?" Idate asked, his sharp grey eyes darting between Naruto and me. "She's just a shinobi."
"She's a Special Jōnin who fought Ibiki in the exams," I whispered, my voice cracking. "She doesn't believe in 'soft' training."
Idate scoffed. "Ibiki just talks. This race is what matters."
Anko didn't stand, but she shifted her grip on the kunai, her gaze locking onto Idate with a predator's focus.
She dominated the line of sight, forcing him to yield a step. "Talk about the race, kid. What are we walking into?"
"Wait for Jirōchō," Idate said, his jaw tightening.
Anko leaned forward, the chainmail on her chest shifting with a metallic clink. "I'm the one keeping your heart beating, Wasabi. Talk."
Idate launched into an exaggerated tale of sea-snakes and lightning.
Anko rolled her eyes and cut him off.
We resumed walking and the silence stretched until Naruto quickened his steps to walk beside Idate.
Pap–pap–pap.
"Y'know, you're fast, but I outran a whole train!" Naruto yelled, gesturing widely, "And I was carrying a princess the whole time!"
Idate laughed and raised an eyebrow, "An actual princess?"
The word princess echoed in my head, distorted by the hum of the cicadas.
"Yeah!" Naruto shouted back, punching at the sky.
It took a moment for the meaning to sink in.
He carried me, I thought, my chest tightening. He carried me and her, but she's the one he mentions.
The omission felt like a splinter under a fingernail, vibrating against the salt on my lips.
I adjusted my glasses, the plastic feeling slick and intrusive as I counted my steps to keep from crying.
Then Idate stopped walking and turned to Naruto.
"Wait, what's a train?"
Day 3 (Nov 11)
We passed Kurokawa Onsen by early afternoon.
The air turned foul with volcanic sulfur rising from the riverbanks, stinging my throat and making my stomach let out an urrr-gh.
The scent of steaming yudofu wafted from the ryokans, a cruel contrast to the jagged terrain.
In the center of the town, a massive building loomed.
Its stone arches held the midday heat like a kiln, radiating a baking pressure that made the air feel thin.
The circular arena floor looked like a bowl of trapped sand.
"Whoa!" Naruto shouted, his voice dampened by the thick wall of stagnant air.
"Is that a combat arena?" I asked, noticing the way the lower tiers seemed to lean under their own weight.
"It's a landmark," Idate snapped, increasing his pace until his white leg wraps blurred. "And we aren't stopping. If Jirōchō loses this race because you wanted tofu, I'll run you both into the ground."
Anko stepped up beside him, her bare shoulders gleaming with sweat.
She violated his personal space, her voice dropping to a raspy, low promise. "Watch the tone, kid. Or I'll show you exactly how Ibiki used to interrogate his failures."
Idate cleared his throat, but his pace didn't slacken.
We moved deeper into the market gardens, the coastal air growing warmer and exerting a heavy, salt-laden pull on my senses.