I walked with Sena to her flat. Once we were inside, Sena went straight to the window and pulled the curtain open, the desert light flooding the room. She glanced back at me and winked. "Go for it. Let's say we are taking our time checking the place."
I laughed, reached into my bag, and pulled out my notebook. I leaned against the wall and stared at the breathtaking scene in front of me. The world outside was coated in gold and orange, the village glowing as if it had been frozen mid breath. The view mesmerized my imagination. I let myself bask in its beauty as my hands moved on their own, capturing that moment on paper. I was lucky that I drew fast. Within a few minutes, the scene was already taking shape.
Sena leaned in beside me and nodded, clearly pleased. "You are getting frighteningly good at this. If that whole shinobi career does not work out, you might have another field waiting for you."
I laughed and replied in an exaggerated tone, "No thank you. I have zero interest in drawing pompous nobles and their endlessly identical gardens."
Sena narrowed her eyes as if deeply offended. I stuck my tongue out at her and turned away, beginning to look around the flat more seriously.
While observing the bedroom, I felt it. A faint sensation, barely there, but wrong enough to make me stop instantly. I focused more chakra into my eyes and slowly reached out, placing my hand against the wall next to the bed. I carefully applied chakra, making sure not to disrupt anything. Slowly, delicately, I isolated the foreign presence. Black ink bled into view across the wall as the seal revealed itself.
A grin spread across my face as I examined it more closely.
I made a hand signal for Sena to follow me. She did, without hesitation. We stepped out of her flat together, but just before we reached my door, she stopped me.
"What is that seal, Noa?" she asked quietly. "I need to know before you tell sensei."
I raised an eyebrow. "It is very discreet. Basically, a memory seal. It keeps a record of chakra signatures. It most likely has a method of recording voices as well, but I am not completely sure yet. Why?"
The smile that spread across her face was devious enough to make me recoil slightly. "Do not tell sensei. I need that seal to stay exactly where it is."
I blinked. "Why?"
She answered immediately. "I have my reasons. Please do not tell sensei and do not remove it. Consider it a favor for me and my family."
Worry crept into my expression, and she noticed instantly. "You know I would never do anything that would harm our team or the village."
I did know that. Still, the situation made me uneasy. In the end, I nodded. I owed Sena and her family far more than this, and leaving the seal in place would not affect us. We would be spending most of our time in our own flat anyway.
I nodded once more. Sena smiled approvingly. "Thank you, Noa."
I shrugged, and together we walked into my flat.
That was when we realized Shisui and Kaen were already done arranging the luggage. Kaen glanced at us, narrowing his eyes. "What took you so long?"
I sighed. "It is not easy scanning for seals, you know."
Before Kaen could get more irritated, Shisui stepped in. "Did you find anything?"
I hesitated for just a moment before Sena shook her head calmly. "Nope. They are being very careful not to insult their perceived allies."
Shisui nodded, then looked at me. I nodded back, confirming her words.
He clapped his hands together, suddenly upbeat. "Alright. Let's get ready for an outing in the Hidden Sand Village."
That immediately lifted the mood. Each of us moved to change into something more comfortable.
Later, we heard polite yet excited knocking at the door. When we opened it, Yura was practically bouncing in place, her eyes lighting up as she took us in. "Wow. Fashion in the Hidden Leaf really is different. Are you all ready for a night to remember?" We all nodded as we followed her down.
The streets of the Hidden Sand at night felt unreal, like walking through a dream. Warm light spilled from hanging lanterns strung between sandstone bridges and balconies, their glow soft and golden, never harsh, never blinding. The light reflected off clay walls and polished stone paths, turning the narrow streets into glowing corridors that guided the eye forward without ever revealing everything at once. Shadows danced gently above us as the lanterns swayed, painting moving patterns across the walls like living calligraphy.
There was no darkness here in the way one would expect from a desert night. Instead, the village glowed. Lamps shaped from tinted glass hung low enough to warm the air beneath them, casting pools of amber and copper light that gathered people naturally, drawing them into conversation, laughter, and quiet music played on unfamiliar instruments. Fabric awnings stretched overhead, layered and angled to trap warmth, their colors deep and rich, reds, blues, and sandy golds that absorbed the light and gave it back softer, calmer.
The air carried scents that felt deliberately chosen. Spiced tea, warm bread, dried herbs, and faint traces of incense blended together until it was impossible to tell where one ended and another began. Even the stone beneath our feet seemed to hold warmth, releasing it slowly as if the village itself refused to let the night grow cold.
Water channels ran quietly along the edges of the streets, narrow and shallow, fed from hidden cisterns deep within the village. Lantern light rippled across their surfaces, making it look as though liquid gold flowed through the heart of the sand. Every few streets opened into small plazas filled with cushions, low tables, and wind chimes that sang softly whenever the breeze passed through, grounding the space in sound as much as sight.
It felt like an oasis. A place designed to remind everyone who lived here that even in a land ruled by heat and sand, and the sharp cold of night, warmth could still be shared.
We were all mesmerized by the beauty before us. It was majestic in a way that felt entirely foreign, so different from the Hidden Leaf that it might as well have been another world altogether. The warmth, the colors, the way the light clung to stone and silk made the village feel alive even under the night sky. For a fleeting moment, I found myself thinking that being born here would not have been so bad. There was something ethereal about it all, something gentle hidden beneath the harsh reputation of the desert.
Yura noticed our admiration and smiled, her expression filled with quiet pride. "Lord Kazekage made sure the village would look its best for our guests," she said. "He wants those who visit to see its beauty first, not be intimidated by the surrounding nature. He wants them to know that it is safe, that it is welcoming."
She nodded as she spoke, truly believing in her leader's vision.
Shisui and Sena listened carefully, their attention sharp, weighing every word for meaning beyond what was spoken. Kaen, on the other hand, looked around like a countryside pilgrim seeing a city for the first time, his eyes bouncing from lantern to bridge to awning. As for me, I was completely taken by the scenery, trying to carve every detail into my memory so I could draw it later, not just the shapes, but the feelings themselves, turned into color and motion.
Yura's voice gently cut through the moment, drawing our attention back to her. "Now, for the beginning of our program," she said cheerfully. "I will take you to a unique experience exclusive to our village. After that, we will visit the market."
She began walking, and we followed, still half lost in the atmosphere around us.
After a short walk, the streets opened into a wide space where the houses were draped in layers of beautifully colored silk. The fabric drifted overhead like suspended waves, framing the plaza in motion without a single sound breaking the calm. Low tables were arranged throughout the space, each lit by a single lantern placed at its center, radiating warmth, comfort, and quiet intimacy. Cushions surrounded them, inviting people to sit, relax, and stay.
At the heart of it all stood a large stage.
People filled the plaza, voices overlapping in excited chatter as anticipation built. The energy was infectious, a shared expectation humming through the air. Gradually, the lights dimmed, just enough to draw every eye forward. The curtains of the stage shifted, then slowly parted.
A very tall man stepped into view. His frame was lean and wiry, his hands long and expressive, his movements deliberate even as he bowed deeply to the crowd. Applause erupted instantly. Some clapped. Some whistled. Others called out his name with open enthusiasm. It was clear that this was not just a performer, but someone beloved.
He straightened, lifting his head, and when he spoke, his voice carried power far beyond what his thin frame suggested.
"I am Ayatsuri Jin," he announced, his voice carrying across the plaza. A pause followed, heavy with expectation. "What you will witness tonight is the greatest sand puppet show ever performed. It will depict…" He fell silent, and the crowd almost simultaneously leaned in, anticipation thick in the air. Then, his voice rose with theatrical force as he continued, "the legendary tale of the Warrior and the Desert Demon."
The reaction was immediate and overwhelming. Applause rolled across the plaza in waves, charged with excitement. The story was clearly famous here, and the crowd vibrated with eagerness to see it brought to life through the finest sand puppetry they had ever known.
Sitting there beneath the lantern light, surrounded by warmth and shared energy, I realized I felt the same way.
I could not wait for it to begin.