A heavy silence followed. He looked out through the small window of the cabin. Outside, silhouettes moved among the bamboo. Three, maybe four ninjas. Controlled movements, synchronized — far too disciplined to be simple mercenaries.
"Who are the ones outside?" he asked, caution clear in his voice.
"My team," she replied, her tone unchanged.
"And what village are you from?"
The question came out firm, direct — as befitted a Konoha police officer. But she knew, in that instant, that he already suspected. Perhaps he knew more than he let on.
"I don't answer to Kage," she said. "Much less to men with a forehead protector."
Tekka sat up with effort. The food tray forgotten beside him.
"Red hair... dense chakra... you're Uzumaki."
The sentence fell like a seal snapping under pressure.
Akemi's gaze hardened.
He was testing boundaries. And she didn't like that. She didn't like how genuinely curious he seemed. Nor how, even weakened, he still carried himself like an interrogator.
She didn't like how much he reminded her that the symbol on his forehead was the same one that let Uzushiogakure burn alone.
"Konoha turned its back on our clan," she said coldly. "Let our blood dry in the ruins while they protected their own walls. Watched from a distance. Made alliances with smiles. Then... erased us from the maps."
Tekka remained silent for long seconds. He didn't try to deny it. There was no defense for what had been done.
"I'm not Danzō," he murmured.
"No. But you're a reflection of the village that tolerated him."
She turned to leave, but he called her in a low voice:
"Even so... thank you. For not letting me die here."
She hesitated at the door.
"I didn't do it for you. I did it for me. Maybe... for someone who still believes we're not monsters entirely."
"Can we meet here again?" he asked, not knowing why he allowed himself to want that.
She didn't respond immediately. Her dark eyes traced the wooden floor before locking onto his with firmness.
"If you come back, I'll know. And if I don't know... it's because you weren't meant to return."
She left, leaving the door open. The sound of bamboo clashing in the wind filled the space where, moments before, two ghosts of ruined villages had nearly touched.
Akemi stepped out of the cabin in silence, the door creaking softly as it closed. The gray sky seemed to press down on the bamboo, as if the world had paused there — at the edge of doubt and memory. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to forget the face of the man still resting inside — and failing.
Koda appeared to her left, arms crossed, eyes fixed on her with the hardness of someone who had seen too much and survived too little.
"You're losing your mind, Akemi," he began bluntly. "Taking care of an Uchiha? Have you forgotten who we are?"
She didn't answer right away. She was tired of justifying what she herself couldn't name.
"He was wounded," she finally said. "Letting him die wouldn't make us any better than those who left us to rot in the Valley of Hell."
Koda laughed — a harsh, humorless sound.
"And since when do we need to be better?" He took a step forward. "You know as well as I do. Our clan was thrown into that pit long before Konoha even existed. And what did they do after? Nothing. They silenced us. Erased our name from the records. Uchiha, Senju, Hokage... all of them chose to pretend the Chinoike never existed."
Akemi stopped. Hearing the name of her own clan always hurt more when spoken by someone else — especially when stained with truth.
"It wasn't Konoha's responsibility to save us from the Lightning Daimyō's decision," she murmured.
"But it was their responsibility to acknowledge what was done to us," Koda growled. "When the villages were founded, they knew. They knew we survived exile. But they chose to forget. Out of fear. Out of convenience."
She closed her eyes for a moment. Koda's pain was old — and familiar. The same shards she carried in her chest.
"You think it was Danzō who ordered the destruction of Uzushiogakure?" he continued, now quieter. "Because I'm sure of it. And he was the kind of man who saw power as a threat. And you trust a ninja who serves the same system?"
"Tekka is not Danzō."
"No!" Koda gave a bitter smile. "But he's Uchiha. And the Uchiha carry old blood too. Too much pride. Too many secrets. You know the history. The Chinoike were forced to leave the Land of Lightning because they feared us. But it was the comparison with the Uchiha that truly terrified them. They feared the Ketsuryūgan might be more dangerous than the Sharingan."
Akemi remained silent. The past burned in her bones.
"He'll come back," she finally said. "He said he would."
"And what will you do?" Koda looked at her seriously. "When he brings the shadow of Konoha behind him? When other red eyes cross the borders of the Bamboo Village?"
She didn't respond immediately. Her eyes shimmered with a subtle crimson glow.
"If he comes back... I'll decide what to do when the time comes."
"You're fooling yourself," he murmured. "But don't worry. When Konoha looks at us again, it won't be with compassion. It'll be with fear. Just like always."
He turned and vanished among the bamboo, and Akemi remained there — alone with the wind and the echoes of history — knowing that, even after so many years, the war hadn't ended. It had only changed shape.