Sasuke’s reply was brief. “We don’t have a choice.”
They traveled light and fast, accompanied by the steady presence of Sakura and Kakashi as sentinels and confidants. Teamwork these days was less about flashy combos and more about fit—each moved like a part of a machine that had learned to compensate for the wear of battle. Sakura’s precision sealed wounds and solved problems with surgical thought. Kakashi’s jutsu-reading eyes caught the small, dangerous details others might miss. Together they followed a trail of ruptured seals and displaced ley-lines of chakra that pulsed like faint, wounded stars beneath the earth.
Naruto grinned, voice rough with fatigue and hope. “And we’ll bring ramen.”
Sasuke’s reply was precise. “We know what it does. We also know what happens if it breaks. We’re here to secure it.”
“Then someone tried to weaponize balance itself,” Sakura said, frowning. “Control the flow, control the people who rely on it.”
