Curse These Old Bones - Chapter 25

Chapter 25

The massive war hound beside Tsume let out a bark that sounded more like a cannon blast. The sheer force of it made Shikamaru flinch.

And then it happened. Out of nowhere, a green blur shot from the treetops, landing in front of them with enough force to send a gust of wind rippling through the students’ ranks.

“DYNAMIC ENTRY!” boomed a voice as bright as the sun itself.

Shikamaru felt his soul leave his body. Why couldn’t I have been born into a nice, quiet civilian family? he thought bitterly. Bakers don’t have to deal with this crap. Bread. Flour. No dynamic anything.

“Yes! Dynamic Entry indeed!” came a smaller, equally enthusiastic voice.

Shikamaru turned and immediately wished he hadn’t. Standing next to the green blur was a smaller version of the same nightmare. The same hideous jumpsuit. The same bowl cut. The same terrifyingly intense energy. Someone actually let this happen.

“Oh god,” muttered Ino, shielding her eyes as if from the sun. “He has a mini-me.”

As the chaos unfolded, the rest of the team arrived with a lot less drama. The girl with twin buns stepped forward, her sharp gaze taking in the academy students like a general inspecting a ragtag army. Her expression radiated judgment, and Shikamaru could already tell she was mentally categorizing them as useless, useless, oh, maybe mildly competent but still useless.

And then, walking slowly with all the unshakable confidence of someone who knew they were better than everyone around them, came the third member. His long dark hair framed a pale face, his white eyes piercing. A Hyūga. He moved like he was gliding, his head held high, exuding precision and arrogance in equal measure.

Shikamaru didn’t miss the way Hinata stiffened next to him. Her gaze flickered toward the Hyuga — someone she knew?—, then quickly dropped to the ground, her hands twisting nervously at the hem of her jacket.

Tsume clapped her hands together, cutting through the tension. “Alright, pups! Listen up. I’m Inuzuka Tsume, and I’ll be overseeing your exams.”

The war hound barked again, its fangs flashing, and for some ungodly reason, Shikamaru suddenly imagined it wearing the same green jumpsuit as the two nightmares in front of him. He shook his head violently, trying to banish the cursed thought. Focus, Shikamaru. You don’t need that image haunting you.

Tsume gestured toward the newcomers. “This here is Team Gai. They’ll be assisting me today.”

The three genins stepped forward. “I’m Rock Lee!” declared the green-clad mini tornado, his voice brimming with enthusiasm that could power a small country. “I will prove my strength through the power of youth!”

The bun-haired girl followed, her voice calm but laced with a sharp edge. “Tenten. Weapons specialist.” Her gaze swept over the group like she was measuring how many kunai she’d need to knock them all out.

Lastly, the Hyūga boy stepped forward with all the grace of a predator. “Neji Hyūga,” he said simply.

Shikamaru already wanted to lie down and give up.

Tsume clapped her hands, commanding everyone’s attention again. “Alright, listen up! Here’s how this works. Inside the forest, you’ll find twenty of my clan’s adult warhounds. Each one has a few medals attached to its collar. To graduate, you’ll need to bring one of those medals back to me or Iruka—who will be taking over when I get bored.”

Kiba groaned audibly, burying his face in his hands. Shikamaru glanced at him and instantly felt a sinking sensation in his gut. If Kiba, Inuzuka Kiba — someone who probably knew the war hounds, was groaning, that meant the warhounds in the forest weren’t pushovers.

“Simple enough, right?” Tsume’s grin was anything but comforting. “Get a medal. Don’t get eaten. Make it back in one piece.”

Shikamaru felt a flicker of hope. Ok. That seemed reasonable. Manageable even. Stick to the shadows, let the overeager idiots tire themselves out, and swoop in at the last moment. Not so bad. And she didn’t say anything about not teaming up. This could work.

“But…” Tsume’s grin widened, showing just a hint of teeth. “There’s another rule.”

Oh, god, no.

“These three genins here?” she gestured to Team Gai, who stood like executioners waiting for their turn. “They have their own mission. They’re allowed—encouraged, really—to track you down and take any medals you’ve managed to snag.”

“What?! That’s not fair!” Sakura burst out, her voice high-pitched with indignation. “They’re genin already! They’re stronger than us!”

Tsume’s snarl cut through the protest like a whip. “Pathetic! You think ninja life is fair? They’re just three genin. You’re what? Forty? Fifty? There’s no way they can track all of you at once. If you can’t outthink or outmaneuver three kids, you don’t deserve to graduate.”

Shikamaru suppressed a groan. She wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make it any better.

“You have one week — if you exit the forest or do not manage to bring back a medal, you fail. Any questions?” Tsume barked.

Every hand shot into the air. 


“No questions? Perfect!” Tsume smirked. “Then here’s the last part: You’ll be dropped randomly into the forest. Good luck, pups.”

— — — —

“…so that’s why the chakra flow reverses in that part of the body…” Anko understood, gesturing animatedly as they walked the dirt road. Her tone carried the same smug confidence she used when baiting rookies into arguments, but there was a genuine curiosity underneath.

“Exactly,” Sura replied, his tone calm yet engaging. “Though it’s surprising when you consider it from a developmental point of view.”

She squinted at him, trying to gauge if he was mocking her. He wasn’t. He actually knew what he was talking about. “Huh. Didn’t peg you for the chakra-theory type. Thought you Anbu types were all knives and brooding.”

Sura smirked faintly, his stride unhurried. His broad shoulders and effortless gait were as infuriating as his knowledge. Behind them, the client—a grizzled, alcoholic old man—trudged along like a man being dragged to his own funeral, occasionally sipping from his flask. She still didn’t understand why she, a special jonin, had been saddled with a C-rank escort mission.

Two days of crawling at a civilian’s pace. Two days of dust and tedium. Two days of Sura.

And yet… she didn’t hate it.

He was nice, Anko thought, the word landing awkwardly in her mind. She wasn’t used to nice. Respect, yes. Trust on missions? Sure. But her fellow Konoha ninjas treated her with wariness. It was the residue of her old teacher, she knew. Even though she’d proven her loyalty again and again, people kept their distance.

Except for her friends—Yugao, now probably in ANBU; Hana, still a chunin because she wanted to be a veterinarian; and Kurenai, recently promoted to jonin. Without them, she might’ve broken. And Ibiki. Hell, Ibiki was a friend. Sort of. A weird hybrid of mentor and colleague. He appreciated her, she thought. But the rest? They required the act—the extraversion, the constant jokes, the loud personality. She had to show her loyalty, prove she was one of them, over and over.

Sura? He treated her like… a cute little kohai. Which was ridiculous. She was a feared jonin, A-ranked in most Bingo Books. Yet here she was, feeling like a rookie being guided by the cool senior. And somehow, she liked it. She could make mistakes around him without feeling judged. She could ask questions, and he wouldn’t suspect her of being a spy—he’d just answer, though always with a teasing edge.

She stole a glance at him as they walked, her gaze lingering on the faint outline of muscle under his shirt. His forearms flexed as he adjusted his pack, and his abs… yeah, she’d noticed those. She licked her lips absently. Damn it, Anko, get it together.

“So,” she said, her voice casual as she tried to catch him off guard. “Sura Sarutobi, huh? That’s quite a mouthful.”

“Who says I’m a Sarutobi?” he asked, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, come on.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re like a perfect cross between Asuma and Hiroto. It’s obvious.”

His expression didn’t change, but she thought she caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Interesting theory.”

“Don’t give me that,” she shot back. “I don’t know where the Hokage’s been hiding you all these years, but you’re definitely a Sarutobi. A cousin? A brother? Probably Anbu, right?”

She tilted her head, letting her gaze sweep over him playfully before adding, “And cute, too. Though, let’s be real—less cute than Asuma or the Commander. But too bad for me, old Commander’s married, and Asuma’s all wrapped up in Kurenai. So you're all that's left ”, she half-lied. He was much cuter than them.

He raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance, but she caught the flicker of intrigue in his eyes. “Huh? Kurenai and Asuma?”

Her smirk widened. Not a Sarutobi, my ass.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” she asked, her tone dripping with faux surprise. “Big bad Anbu guy like you out of the loop? They’re practically a tragic romance novel. Can’t look at each other for more than three seconds without the world’s tiniest violins playing in the background.”

He chuckled, clearly entertained. “Sounds dramatic.”

“Oh, it is,” she replied, her voice turning sing-song as she weaved the story. “You’ve got Asuma, all rugged and stoic, pretending he doesn’t notice her checking him out every five minutes. And Kurenai, Miss I’m-So-Graceful-And-Composed, blushing like a schoolgirl every time he calls her by name. They do this thing—you’ll love this—where they spar, right? Except it’s not sparring. It’s flirting with weapons. Kurenai’s twirling kunai like it’s some kind of mating dance, and Asuma’s swinging those chakra blades of his all, ‘Look how strong and precise I am.’” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “It’s nauseating.”

“Sounds effective,” he quipped, his tone light.

“Yeah, if the goal is to make everyone else in the vicinity want to die of secondhand embarrassment,” Anko shot back, her grin widening. “Seriously, someone needs to lock them in a closet until they figure it out. Either they kiss, or Kurenai uses her genjutsu to murder him. Win-win.". 


Sura laughed louder this time, a deep, rich sound that caught her off guard. She found herself smiling despite herself. Damn it, why did he have to be so annoyingly likable?

Behind them, the client tripped again, muttering curses as he stumbled over a stray root. Anko sighed and rolled her eyes, the noise dragging her out of the quiet alertness she’d settled into. “You’re gonna wear out your flask if you keep falling like that, old man,” she quipped, not even glancing back. Civilian pace. Every step felt like a prison sentence.

She groaned under her breath, the frustration building. Why the hell had they sent her—an A-ranked kunoichi—and a guy who had to be at least high-A rank if he was her boss—on a damn C-rank mission? Escorting an old drunk? Surely Konoha had better things for them to do. She shot a glance at Sura, walking calmly beside her, as if she were about to ask him directly when—

Oh. Interesting. So there indeed was something more to this mission. Not a normal C-rank.

Her lips curled into a smirk as her senses sharpened. She felt them, two presences lying low in the puddle up ahead. Well-hidden, she had to admit. Competent. Chunin-level, at least. She continued her banter without missing a beat, letting no hint of suspicion reach her voice.

“So, Sura,” she said, her voice exaggeratedly bored, “now that we’re out of Konoha, I’ve been thinking… It’s been ages since I’ve had a decent romp. I’m going crazy here. What do you say? You interested?” Her grin widened as she side-eyed him, enjoying how the client sputtered behind them, almost choking on his own breath.

Sura snorted in amusement, not breaking stride. “You’ve got hands, don’t you? Take care of it yourself.”

She barked a laugh. Got it. He was leaving the ambush to her. Fine by her—she could show off a little.

A chain shot from the puddle, barbed and glinting, aimed straight for her neck. Anko leaned backward, bending at an unnatural angle, the metal links snapping past her face. She felt the wind of its passage before grabbing it mid-flight with chakra-coated hands. "Tch, amateur hour," she spat, twisting her wrist and yanking hard.

The first chunin erupted from the puddle, water exploding around him as he charged with a kunai in each hand. Anko met him halfway, her kunai clashing with his in a shower of sparks. He snarled and unleashed a torrent of slicing water jutsu at point-blank range. The blade of water screamed through the air, cutting into her shoulder. Blood sprayed across the clearing.

Anko laughed through the pain. "Oh, sweetheart, you're going to wish that killed me." With a twist of her wrist, she shattered his guard, embedding her kunai into his bicep and wrenching it free in a spray of crimson. He screamed, but she was already moving, spinning behind him. Her hands slammed together in a series of seals.

"Hidden Shadow Snake Jutsu!"

Serpents erupted from her sleeves, fangs sinking into the chunin’s neck, shoulders, and exposed arms. He screamed again, his body convulsing as venom surged through his veins. Before he could react, Anko grabbed his head and slammed it into the ground with enough force to crack the earth. His skull gave a sickening crunch, blood pooling beneath his twitching body.

The second chunin leaped into the fray, fire jutsu roaring from his mouth in a scorching arc. Anko rolled, the flames singing her fishnet suit, and retaliated by hurling an explosive tag that detonated mid-air, filling the area with a concussive shockwave and shrapnel. The chunin shielded himself with an earth wall, but Anko was already on him, her movements a blur.

She slammed into his defense, kunai striking like lightning, chipping away at the rock. The chunin retaliated, weaving seals with practiced speed. "Earth Spike Barrage!" The ground beneath her erupted in jagged stone pillars, one gouging into her thigh.

Anko snarled, ripping herself free, blood pouring down her leg. "Nice try, asshole!" She leaped into the air, somersaulting over the spikes, and unleashed another barrage of seals. "Fire Release: Dragon Flame!"

A serpent of fire roared toward him, consuming the earth wall in an inferno. The chunin screamed as the flames engulfed him, his skin blistering and blackening. But even as he fell to his knees, he flung a kunai with his last strength, aiming for Anko's heart.

She caught it mid-air with two fingers, flipping it casually before driving it into his eye. "Nice throw," she muttered, wiping the blood from her face with her forearm. The chunin gurgled and slumped to the ground, lifeless.

Tazuna scrambled back on his hands, eyes wide as plates, his flask clattering to the ground beside him. “I-I can explain!” he stammered, his voice cracking with terror.

Anko landed lightly beside the two fallen chunin, her sandals squelching in the pooling blood. She cocked her head, fixing the bridge builder with a dangerous smirk. “So, a nice C-rank mission, huh? No ninjas? Just a sweet little walk through the countryside?” She waved toward the carnage she’d just wrought, blood dripping from her kunai. “Does this look like no ninjas to you?”

Tazuna’s lips moved, but no words came out, his gaze flickering between the corpses and the kunoichi towering over him.

Behind her, Sura sighed quietly, brushing off his jacket with practiced nonchalance. A speck of something stringy had landed on him—a piece of what was probably a liver, Anko guessed. He flicked it away with a movement so casual it might as well have been choreographed. “Let me guess,” he said, his voice dry as autumn leaves. “You lied because you’re broke. Couldn’t afford a proper mission rank.”

Tazuna winced like the words had hit him, his face going pale.

Sura’s eyes sharpened as he crouched, folding himself until he was perfectly at eye level with the trembling bridge builder. His tone, even and unhurried, was somehow colder than any shouted accusation. “And let me guess again—Gato, right? Shipping magnate turned tyrant. You’ve got his goons breathing down your neck, and now you’re dragging us into your little mess.”

Tazuna’s head jerked up, his face an open book of panic. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Save it,” Sura interrupted, his voice slicing through the man’s excuses like a blade. “Let me guess the next part. You’re going to tell me about your starving village. About how Gato’s squeezing every last coin from your people. About how this bridge is the only thing standing between them and ruin.” His gaze didn’t waver. “Am I wrong?”

Anko let out a low whistle from her spot by the tree. She crossed her arms, watching the exchange like it was a particularly entertaining play. Where had she head that name?? Ah! Gato! The shipping tycoon from the Land of Waves!

“Well, well, well,” she purred, her grin growing wider. “Not a C-rank at all. Gato, huh?"

Her eyes lit up with wicked delight as she tapped her blood-slick kunai against her lips in mock thought. Her gaze flicked to Sura, and she shuddered—not from fear, but anticipation. He’d joked about taking out A-rank nin and toppling regimes before they left Konoha. The fact that this mission might actually lead there made her pulse quicken.

Sura straightened slowly, his shadow looming over the terrified Tazuna. “You’re lucky,” he said, his voice a shade colder. “I like bridges. And I need roads.”

Tazuna gulped so loudly it was almost comical. “I-I swear, I didn’t mean—”

Sura crouched again, cutting him off with a look that silenced whatever excuse was forming. “Here’s the deal,” he said, his tone quiet but sharp enough to carve stone.

"You will…"