New Direction

Sen’s POV

Days pass swiftly when you're happy and at peace. I still remember the time I was stuck in that cave with Satsuki. It was terrifying. I did what I could and waited for help. Last couple of  months also have passed faster than i expected.

It’s been months since I came back from the summoning realm and began training mainly with Kawarama and Itama. After my spar with Genma, Hokage-sama informed me that the council had decided to reduce my workload and allow me more time for training with the Senju brothers. I did miss the calm of the office sometimes, but I was the one who chose this path—so I complied.

They were gentle with me. Hokage-sama told me they completely understood my unwillingness to fight and spill blood.

I was informed that my role in the field would primarily be that of team support. The heavy lifting—killing, capture—would be handled by my senior teammates. I would assist with healing, seal disintegration, and spying through my summons. It was a win-win situation.

About a month ago, they tested me on different levels to qualify me for jonin rank. To work alongside high-level Anbu, I had to be a jonin and have my skills officially assessed.

I scored well in Taijutsu, Fuinjutsu, and Medical Fuinjutsu. I can cast complex genjutsu using seals, though when it comes to traditional genjutsu, I’m average. But they concluded it didn’t matter—my seal-based genjutsu served the same purpose.

In the end, I passed the test. They put me against unknown Anbu—operatives I’d never met before. I may have seen them once or twice in the background, but I didn’t know them, which meant I had no clue about their skills.

From today, I was to fully join my team and leave my office job behind.A strange melancholy settled in my chest. When I first started that job, I’d imagined I might grow old at that desk, sipping bitter tea, filling out mission reports, and training rookies who came and went like seasons. I hadn’t expected to be called to Anbu so soon—or at all.

I was given the Fox mask. I still wished I had the ant mask—it would have suited me better, felt more like mine. But that mask was in use, currently assigned to someone else. If memory served right, it was Yugao’s.

The Anbu base was eerily silent as I stepped inside. The lighting was muted, corridors built more for efficiency than comfort. My footsteps echoed faintly on the polished stone as I approached the front desk and handed over my entry scroll.

The man at the reception, a clean-shaven shinobi in standard black, took the scroll and scanned it quickly. His gaze lingered on me—curious, but not unfriendly.

He offered a small smile and nodded in understanding. “Anbu Op Fox, welcome to Konoha’s Anbu Division. Your captain is expecting you. Follow this corridor, turn right, then left. Straight ahead—you’ll find his office.”

“Thank you,” I said curtly and moved on.

As I navigated the halls, the silence grew heavier. It wasn’t oppressive, but it demanded presence. Anbu didn’t speak unless necessary. No idle chatter. No greetings. Just eyes behind masks, fleeting shadows passing by.

I knocked on the wooden door when I reached it.

A calm voice from inside responded, “Enter.”

The room was minimal, the air oddly still. Behind a desk sat a masked man in a formal Anbu white cape. His mask was shaped like a deer, elegant but unreadable.

“Hello, Fox,” he greeted in a neutral tone. “I’ll be your captain and teammate. You may call me Deer.”

I couldn’t read his voice—masculine, mature, but devoid of any clear markers of age or emotion. I offered a crisp nod.

“Yes, Captain.”

He gestured for me to sit and went over the basics—rules, regulations, team protocols, reporting formats. I listened with unwavering focus. Anbu didn’t allow mistakes. One wrong move could compromise not just a mission, but the village itself.

Once the formalities were done, he stood. “Come. I’ll introduce you to the team.”

We exited into the adjacent room—a shared space with a central table, training mats along the sides, and weapons racks lining the walls. Three Anbu operatives were already inside, standing at ease, but their heads turned as we entered.

They all looked alike at first glance—black hair, standard issue armor, and the uniform visual genjutsu that dulled features for anonymity. But subtle details stood out. The way they stood, the posture of the shoulders, the way their masks tilted as they observed me.

At least one of them was a woman. That made me feel slightly less alien.

“This is our new teammate, Fox,” Captain Deer announced. “She’ll be training with us starting today.”

He turned to me and gestured toward the others.

“This is Anbu Raven, Beetle, and Dove.”

“Rabit’s replacement, huh?” Dove asked, arms crossed over her chest. Her voice was sharp, direct—a woman used to speaking her mind. Her mask, resembling a dove, was deceptively soft in contrast.

“Yes,” Captain Deer said firmly. “And be civil with Fox. She’s your teammate now.”

There was a subtle tension in the room after that—one that didn’t come from hostility, but adjustment. Shifting dynamics. I could feel Raven watching me carefully, Beetle not reacting at all, and Dove’s attention lingering longer than necessary.

I stood straight, hands by my side, unreadable. I didn’t let my nervousness show.

I hope I’m welcomed here.I’ve always hated workplace politics—especially when the workplace involves blades, shadows, and people who are trained to kill.

From that day when I joined the ANBU to today, it’s been one whole month.

The training… gods, it was brutal.

It wasn’t like the friendly drills I did with Kawarama and Itama. Those sessions felt like games compared to this. ANBU training was relentless—my muscles constantly ached, my body screamed by the end of each day. The only rhythm I knew anymore was base → training → dinner → pass out. That was my life now. I didn’t even have the energy to think about anything else.

Even my dating life… or what little of it I had. Nothing. Stalled.

In the last couple of months, the three of us—Junpei, Kakashi, and I—haven’t had a single moment where we were all present at once.

Junpei came over a few times before he was shipped off on a mission. Kakashi was the same. It looked like both Kakashi and Obito were sent out together . it’s been one and a half months since any of them were properly in the village.

This… this is the reality of ANBU life. Long-term missions. High-risk, high-consequence work. Sometimes spying. Sometimes assassinations—quiet ones—where the target has to disappear so naturally, it looks like fate itself plucked them away.

My team is a specialized spy unit. That’s why I was placed here. My skill set fits.

Raven, whom I strongly suspect is Shisui, is obviously an Uchiha—there’s no other explanation for his seamless genjutsu control. Beetle handles poisons—smart, methodical, and quiet. He has the unsettling calm of someone who knows exactly how long it would take to kill you.Dove, the only other woman on the team, is fast—really fast. She’s got tight, devastating taijutsu mixed with illusion work. Her strikes feel real even when they’re not.And then there’s me—the team healer with fuinjutsu specialization. I patch them up. I trap enemies. I break through barriers.

Our captain, Deer, is an all-rounder. You can just tell—he carries himself like someone who doesn’t need to flaunt what he can do. Calm. Neutral. Efficient. He feels like the kind of man who could kill you, clean the blood off, and get home in time to water his plants.

Over the month, we’ve bonded. Quietly. Slowly. But it’s there. We don’t talk much, but our teamwork is starting to feel… seamless.

I learned that their previous teammate, the one I replaced, was injured during a mission. Had to leave ANBU permanently. That’s all they ever said. Nothing more.

Honestly, I expected worse. Cold shoulders, silent treatment, distrust. But instead… they treat me like I’m the baby of the team.

Which is ironic. Shisui—if Raven really is him—is technically younger than me. But no one would ever guess. He doesn’t look like a teenager. He doesn’t act like one either.And me?

Well… I look like a civilian girl who wandered into ANBU by mistake.

It’s fine. I don’t mind being underestimated. I’ve always liked proving people wrong.

We left Konoha just before dawn, the gates still shrouded in morning mist as we slipped into the woods like shadows. This was my first real Anbu mission—outside Fire Country borders. Everything until now had been within safer zones, closer to the village. But this time, we were heading towards Kusa, crossing neutral land with no allies to call upon if things went wrong.

It would take us about three days to reach our initial surveillance point near the Kusa-Taki border if we rested properly. We traveled fast but carefully, sticking to higher ground when we could and avoiding trade roads. The forest changed around us the further we got from Konoha—trees grew more wild and untamed, moss thicker, the air a little denser with the scent of rain-soaked earth.

We barely spoke during the day. Captain Deer led, silent and composed. Dove stayed on the flanks, ever-watchful, while Beetle lingered in the rear, likely setting small traps or markers only he understood. Raven—who I still suspected was Shisui—stayed near me more often than not. He chatted casually in low tones during our breaks, never pushing, just... keeping things light. He never brought up anything too personal, and I appreciated that.

We rotated guard duty at night. One always stayed awake while the others slept in shifts. The first night, I took second watch. It was cold, but manageable with my heat seals. I stayed wrapped in my cloak, perched on a high branch, listening to the distant rustle of nocturnal life. I still couldn’t believe I was part of this team. Anbu.

They accepted me, I could tell. Dove shared rations with me without complaint. Beetle, quiet as he was, once helped adjust my gear without being asked. Even Captain Deer gave the occasional nod of approval.

I wasn't just a liability anymore. I had a role—healer, seal expert, support—and they respected that.

Raven didn’t ask about my identity. Maybe he already knew. Maybe he didn’t care. My chakra signature was sealed tightly, my scent masked, my appearance altered down to the last detail. Only a skilled sensor might pick up on the flickers when I dropped my guard, and I tried not to. Still, I caught him glancing at me sometimes, as if he was piecing together a puzzle he didn’t want to solve just yet.

By the morning of the third day, we saw the land begin to change. Kusa’s wildflowers had started dotting the underbrush. The trees were sparser, but the grass was higher and thicker. The air was damp, smelling faintly of herbs and loam. The border was close.

Our pace slowed. From here on, it was all eyes and ears. The mission had officially begun.

We halted about a kilometer away from the rogue group’s camp, hidden by the thick underbrush and natural slope of the forest. From where we were, faint traces of smoke curled into the sky—subtle, controlled, likely from a small cooking fire. The sun was beginning to set, staining the sky in bands of amber and grey, casting long shadows over the forest floor.

The rest of the team immediately dropped into a silent crouch, slipping into their observational stances with practiced ease. I stepped forward slightly, keeping my fingers loosely joined as I initiated my chakra sensing.

It took a moment.

I let my chakra stretch slowly and deliberately, fanning out in a soft, invisible wave through the terrain. The process always took longer than I liked—my seal suppressed so much of my own chakra that extending it outward felt like dragging thread through water. Still, I focused. One breath. Then another. The trees blurred at the edge of my vision, but the chakra signatures began appearing in my mind’s eye like glowing silhouettes.

When I was done, I pulled back slowly and opened my eyes.

“There are about twelve ninja in the camp,” I reported, my voice quiet but steady. “Two of them have higher chakra reserves—Jonin-level, most likely. Five give off a Chunin-level presence, and the remaining five or so are Genin-class.” I paused, then added, “That’s assuming they aren’t masking their chakra signatures, Captain.”

Captain Deer didn’t respond immediately. He stared toward the distant smoke for a few seconds longer, his mask tilted in thought. Then he finally spoke, his tone as calm as ever.

“Hmm... That looks promising. A group like that avoiding direct engagement with any village shinobi suggests one thing—they’re not built for battle.” He turned toward us slightly. “They’re deliberately keeping off the radar. That means they know their limits. Their strength lies in secrecy, not confrontation.”

I found myself quietly impressed. His ability to break down the tactical implication from a few chakra signatures was smooth—almost automatic. Judging from how the others didn’t so much as blink at his deduction, I figured they were used to it.

Captain straightened, then motioned with two fingers toward the perimeter. “We’ll set traps along this area. I’ll handle the northern area. Beetle, you’ll work with me. Raven and Fox will take the south and rotate with us after sundown.”

“Understood,” Raven replied instantly. Dove nodded once. Beetle was already reaching into his pouch for wire and tags.

I gave a soft nod in return, acknowledging my assignment.

And just like that, the mission had officially begun.

Minato's POV 

Team Deer left this morning, and with that, Sen officially began her Anbu career.I made sure to place her in a unit where no personal ties could cloud her focus. Something is clearly brewing between Junpei, Sen, and Kakashi—and that’s exactly why neither of them should serve as her captain. They would only be a distraction.

That decision, though, wasn’t made in haste or as a reaction to recent developments. It had been in motion long before any feelings came to light. She needed a fresh start. A team where no one had prior attachment to her, and where she, too, wasn’t emotionally entangled with any teammate. She needed to be seen not as “Sen,” but as a shinobi. As an Anbu.

Only one exception was made: Shisui.Shisui, or “Raven,” had been informed of her background, but his presence wasn’t as a guard—it was as a companion. He wouldn’t hover. He’d simply be there, should she need him. And Sen… she trusted him, even if she didn’t fully realize it yet.

Captain Deer was chosen with extreme care.

One of the finest Anbu operatives Konoha has ever produced, Deer was a legend not born of clan blood or inherited techniques. He came from a civilian family, and yet, over the years, rose through the ranks with nothing but raw talent, relentless training, and sheer willpower. In a world where names often carried weight, he made his name feared without one.

He’s served as an Anbu captain for over nine years—making him one of the longest-standing active leaders in the division. He earned his reputation not just through missions, but through the fear he instilled in enemies. He’s known among rogue factions and missing-nin circles as The Decimeter—a ghost in the dark who leaves only fragments behind.

And yet, within the walls of Konoha, he is deeply respected. Strategic like Shikaku, dangerous like a blade left unsheathed. Proficient in kenjutsu, ruthless in taijutsu, and commanding in his use of water release techniques, Captain Deer doesn’t tolerate failure—because he prepares his team never to reach that point. His loyalty to his team is unquestioned. He is stern, composed, and highly protective of those under his command. He may not coddle them, but he never lets them fall.

Sen is in good hands.

The current mission is ideal for her first deployment—spying and surveillance, not direct engagement. His team specializes in reconnaissance, and all are highly capable. Should things go south, Sen is more than equipped to handle herself. She has her jutsu. Her instincts. Her summons. And now, a team that will stand their ground with her.

Still, I hope the mission goes smoothly.There’s been no sign of the rogue ROOT team. It’s like they’ve vanished—swallowed by the earth or cloaked in jutsu so perfect even our trackers can’t catch a scent. It feels like they’re waiting… lurking in the shadows until the moment is right.

Hopefully, by then, Sen will be the kind of shinobi who doesn’t wait for protection. She will be ready.

“I’m glad I never became Hokage,” Sensei said with a smirk, his arms folded as he gazed out the wide window of the office. “Otherwise I’d be stuck thinking as hard as you are now.”

I let out a tired sigh, leaning back in my chair, fingers still laced together over a stack of scrolls. “This job comes with a built-in requirement to overthink everything, Sensei.”

Jiraiya laughed, loud and full of life, the kind of laugh that echoed in the room and made it feel less like a formal office and more like home. His energy hadn’t changed a bit. He was in good spirits today—maybe because he was back in Konoha after so long. And this time, he’d be staying for a whole month. He deserved that break.

“I’m just relieved she handed me the illustrations before she left,” he said, stepping away from the window and dropping into the seat across from me. “Otherwise, the book would’ve been delayed again.”

I’d nearly forgotten Sen was still illustrating for his series. Her drawings brought something special to those stories—elegant, tasteful, but undeniably alluring. They added just the right edge, the kind that made even veteran readers curious. Jiraiya’s latest book had sold twice as well as the last one. I’d even heard rumors that more women were buying his novels these days.

“She’s always thinking two steps ahead,” I said with a faint smile. “Not that she needs to worry about money, but she made sure she’d earn from side jobs too.”

Jiraiya chuckled, fondness flashing across his features. “I hope she comes back before I leave. She still needs to give the final draft one last look.”

After that, the room fell into a comfortable silence. No pressure, no urgency—just the two of us, sitting quietly, letting our thoughts drift to the village, its future… and perhaps a bit beyond.

Sen’s POV

Our mission had gone by in a haze of uneventful observation—smooth, dull, and almost boring. But even boredom didn’t lower our guard. The group we were sent to observe was exactly as the Captain had predicted—cautious, evasive. They avoided direct confrontation with any shinobi and moved like shadows, rarely interacting with anyone unless necessary.

They did attempt to rob a civilian caravan once, but even then, they were careful not to harm anyone. That alone told us they were operating under strict orders—or perhaps a deeper motive. Everything about them reeked of restraint, as if they were holding back their true purpose.

Our task had been simple: assess and report. If Hokage-sama decided they were worth tracking further, we’d be sent again. Otherwise, our part was done.

Honestly, it felt like a low-tier C-rank mission dressed up with a little cloak-and-dagger mystery. But Captain had warned us not to relax, and we didn’t. He drilled it into us that complacency was where shinobi died—and none of us were willing to test that theory.

The journey home was equally smooth. Not a single mishap, not even a missed step. We passed two Konoha checkpoints without issue, crossed paths with a few returning jonin teams, and even briefly sighted an ANBU squad heading out on their own assignment—masked, silent, and deadly efficient.

But then came the second night.

Heavy rain broke out just after dusk, forcing us to seek shelter in a nearby cave. Thunder rumbled overhead, the sound echoing off the cliffs as sheets of rain turned the forest floor into mud.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wet stone and lingering smoke from the small fire we managed to start.

“Well,” Dove said, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders, “our rations are finished. Looks like it’s soldier pills or an empty stomach tonight.”

She muttered the words with half-resignation, half-humor as she fluffed her makeshift bedroll. Beetle grunted something in agreement while stretching his legs near the fire.

“No worries, Dove,” I said casually.

I took out a big scroll from my backpack and sent my chakra into that. Out of which several sealed ramen packets and cups appeared neatly in my hands.

Everyone stared.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Dove said, blinking in mild surprise. “You must have amazing chakra control to carry something like that.”

I handed them cups. “Hmm. I keep backups for situations like these,” I said with a light shrug, offering nothing more.

She caught my tone and wisely didn’t press further. The others followed her lead, gratefully accepting the warm food. We ate quietly, steam rising into the chill of the cave air. The sound of slurping noodles and the low crackle of fire became the only sounds for a while.

But I noticed him—Raven—watching me across the flames. Or rather, Shisui. His eyes lingered not just on the food but on my arm. His gaze had sharpened the moment I summoned the supplies—not with suspicion, but recognition. Like he knew exactly what kind of seals I’d used… and the level of control required to do it so precisely in the field.

He didn’t say anything. But his brow rose just slightly, a flicker of impressed surprise crossing his features.

I met his gaze and held it.

He knew.

And he knew that I knew he knew.

We didn’t say a word about it. We didn’t need to. A silent nod passed between us—subtle, brief, but charged with quiet understanding. That moment said more than words could’ve. It wasn’t just about chakra control. It was about identity. Capabilities. Trust. Or at the very least, awareness.

He returned to eating like nothing had happened. I did the same.

Raven and Beetle volunteered for night watch. The rest of us turned in, the cave dim but warm, the rain a constant drumming rhythm outside. By dawn, we were already on the road again, stepping through fog and dripping branches—each of us silent, alert, and perhaps more connected than before.

We reported straight to the Anbu Commander.

It was the first time I had ever seen him in full Anbu attire. Kato Dan. He was almost unrecognizable in the regulation mask and armor, the usual softness of his presence now replaced with something unreadable. The transformation was startling. His voice had a sharp, altered resonance—modulated enough that, had I not known his identity beforehand, I wouldn’t have recognized him at all.

Even with suppression seals layered over his chakra signature, I could still sense him.

It wasn't loud or distinct. It was like catching a familiar scent in the middle of a crowded market—faint but unmistakable. My training in sensory work was finally showing results, and meditation had sharpened that inner clarity I’d spent months cultivating.

If I closed my eyes, I could still feel the boundaries of his chakra like the outline of a storm behind glass.

One day, I’ll reach grandfather’s level, I thought. Tsunade once said he could sense shinobi across borders—from Konoha to Kumo. That level of awareness felt almost divine.

The Commander turned to us, hands behind his back. His presence alone commanded silence.

“Deer,” he addressed our captain, his tone even and unhurried. “I’m glad the mission went smoothly and without a single mishap. That’s a rarity in our line of work.”

Captain gave a respectful nod.“Thank you, Commander. It was an easy mission, but we remained cautious.”

“Good. That mindset will keep you alive,” he said, before giving us all a sweeping glance. It was impossible to tell what he thought behind that mask.

“Take a week off. Report back on the seventh day unless there’s a critical emergency—you’ll be contacted if needed. Submit your mission report by this afternoon. Once that’s done, you’re free.”

His tone was final.

Captain nodded again, straight-backed and composed.“Understood, sir.”

We all followed him without question, falling into step as we exited the chamber.

There was a lightness to the air now. The mission had gone well, and the commander had approved our work. The tension we’d carried in our shoulders for days began to fade.

Outside, everyone exchanged a few words—short goodbyes, tired jokes, quiet nods. Then we split off in our own directions, one by one disappearing into the Konoha streets.

I changed into civilian clothes and made my way home.

A full week off. After the long weeks of brutal pace and silence, it felt unreal. No alarms. No midnight briefings. Just rest.

This is going to feel like heaven.

I couldn’t wait for the whole week-long vacation. First, I’d visit grandmother and mother, then drop by May and Yuki’s. After that, it would be just me in my apartment — blissfully alone, wrapped in silence, sipping warm tea with a book in hand and the breeze curling through my windows. Pure serenity.

I was already daydreaming about it, my steps light with anticipation, so much so that I forgot to check my surroundings… which was a rookie mistake for any shinobi.

“Someone’s in a good mood. What kind of mission was even that?”

The voice came casually, but it sent a jolt through my spine.

“Ah! Kakashi!” I shrieked, spinning around so fast my bag nearly slipped off my shoulder.

He was leaning on the wall just a few steps away from my apartment complex’s entrance, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other lazily waving off my startled reaction.

“I was just curious,” he said with a snicker, his visible eye crinkling with amusement.

“You’re back?” I blinked, still processing the fact he was really here. His presence felt unreal, like a memory made solid.

He didn’t answer directly, just tilted his head slightly and gestured for me to follow him — toward my apartment. His pace was unhurried, like this was routine. My heartbeat, however, was anything but calmAnd then, just as we rounded the corner to my floor — I froze.

Junpei was there.

Leaning casually against the wall by my door, arms folded, his usual smirk playing on his lips like he’d been waiting forever.

“You both—wait, you’re both here?” I asked, stunned, my voice a blend of disbelief and something embarrassingly close to giddiness.

Kakashi shrugged nonchalantly. “Junpei found me. I got back two days ago. He came yesterday.”

My heart did a little flip. They were back. And together. And here.

“Hey, Sen,” Junpei said, voice soft, warm. Like nothing had changed, yet everything had.

I smiled at him — a little dazed, a lot happy. “Hi,” I breathed.

My hands scrambled with chakra at the lock, nearly fumbling in excitement. I finally opened the door and let us in, quickly shutting it behind us. With practiced ease, I activated the silencing seals around the apartment — no one would hear what happened inside. My space was ours now.

The three of us moved into the living room. There was an odd electricity in the air — not discomfort, but a sense of something long overdue. Like the universe had been nudging us toward this moment for a while.

“Don’t worry,” Kakashi said as I looked uncertainly between them. "Go freshen up — we’ll wait here. Looks like it’s the first time the three of us are together like this… and we’ve got some much-needed discussion.”

His tone was calm, but the look in his eye was sharper, more alert. He’d already read the room, and maybe even me.

“Right… okay. Make yourself comfortable,” I said, and padded to my room.

Once inside, I leaned back against the closed door, heart still racing. They were both here. In my home. Waiting.

I didn’t rush. I took a long, hot bath, letting the water soak away all the exhaustion from the past few weeks. I did my full skincare routine, brushed and dried my hair with care, and slipped into something soft and clean. I was still reeling — from their presence, from the quiet joy that bloomed in my chest.

By the time I stepped out, almost half an hour had passed — and I was ready. Ready for whatever this was about to become.

The scent of freshly brewed tea curled through the quiet room like a whisper, comforting and familiar. Kakashi stood by the stove, his sleeves casually rolled up as he poured hot water into three mismatched mugs. His movements were unhurried, almost meditative.

I took the only available seat on the couch—right beside Junpei—while Kakashi carried the cups over and settled into the chair opposite us. The light from the window painted his silver hair with a soft glow.

Junpei passed me my cup, his fingers brushing mine briefly. "How was your mission?" he asked gently. "Don’t worry—we’re not asking for details."

I let out a quiet breath and smiled. "It was just a simple intel-gathering mission. Nothing eventful. Not even the tiniest mishap." I took a sip, the warmth blooming in my chest. "My team thought it was dull, which honestly was a relief."

"Those are the best kinds," Kakashi said, leaning back with his mug. He looked more at ease than I’d seen him in a while—his shoulders unburdened for once.

There was a soft silence as we sipped our tea together, letting the moment stretch out.

"I’m really glad we’re all here," Kakashi murmured, his gaze steady but serene.

"So," I said with a small smile, glancing at both of them, "where do we even start?"

Junpei tilted his head slightly. "Realistically, we won’t always be together. Our work… it makes that hard. So maybe it’s best if, whenever any of us are free, we spend time however we want—with whoever’s around."

"Hmm." Kakashi nodded slowly, looking at me as if waiting for my thoughts.

"I agree," I said, "but I want everything to be slow. I’m still transitioning into being full-time ANBU, and it’s already exhausting. I need time to adjust."

"Fair enough," Junpei said gently.

Kakashi gave a thoughtful nod before adding, "Also… just to keep things clear. We're not seeing anyone else, right? That way, we’re all on the same page."

I chuckled softly. "I already have you two. Who else would I even want?"

"Then it's settled," Junpei said with an easy smile.

I took another sip of tea before continuing. "And for now… no public dates with all three of us together. I’m not ready for the world’s judgment yet. I don’t care what people think, but… I want to reveal this when I choose."

Kakashi gave me a reassuring look. "I'm in. It takes the pressure off."

"Me too," Junpei echoed.

"Genma knows," I told them after a pause.

"I already asked him not to breathe a word—not even to Raido. He promised," Junpei said.

"Obito suspects something," Kakashi added quietly.

"Hmm… then just tell him, Kakashi," I said. "He’s your friend. Just make sure he keeps it to himself for now."

Kakashi nodded.

A quiet moment passed before my stomach gave a small growl, and I blinked. "Ugh—I’m hungry. I was about to cook something. Do either of you want anything?" I asked as I stood up.

"Calm down, Sen," Kakashi said with a small smile. He nodded toward the kitchen. "I brought breakfast earlier. It’s on the shelf, still warm."

My heart warmed a little more. I smiled softly. "Thank you…"

Junpei set his empty mug down. "We should let you rest now. We’ll come by for dinner later, alright?"

"And don’t cook," Kakashi added. "I’ll bring food again."

I gave them both a mock stern look, but the fondness in my chest was impossible to hide. "Thanks, you two… really."

They left quietly, the door clicking shut behind them. But the warmth lingered in the apartment long after they were gone. I stood in the stillness, hand around my tea, feeling anything but alone.

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This is more like slice of life chapter guys ... the story will get on from now . Sen is finally an Anbu amd her mission load will start . so will her responsibilities .

Although the romance won't be the center of the story . But there still be some scenes once a while to let you know their relationship is going on .

From here Sen will grow her skills faster ...

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