"Your right leg," Guy said, quietly enough that only Chisen could hear.
Chisen did not turn his head.
"It's fine."
"When you came back last time, there was a stab wound on your thigh. The one you gave yourself."
"Right."
"It hasn't healed yet."
"Almost."
Guy did not ask any more questions. He knew Chisen would not lie, but he would not tell the whole truth either. "Almost" was a very vague word. It could mean three days, three hours, or three weeks. In a Ninja's language, "almost" meant "I can handle it myself. Stay out of it."
The four of them walked quietly through the morning light for an hour. They crossed the wasteland and entered a sparse woodland. The trees were neither tall nor thick, but they stood close together, forcing them to weave between the trunks as they walked. It took a lot of concentration. Fallen leaves covered the ground in shades ranging from golden yellow to dark brown. Underfoot, they did not rustle; they made a long tearing sound, like someone slowly ripping a huge sheet of paper beside your ear.
Neji walked at the rear, occasionally activating his Byakugan to scan behind them and make sure no one was following. Each time, he kept it active for only two or three seconds, then switched it off and waited a minute or two before using it again. When it was inactive, his eyes remained closed, not because he was tired, but because he was conserving chakra. Although he had found a way to maintain his field of vision without consuming chakra, prolonged use of the Byakugan still placed a burden on him, albeit a much smaller one than before. Yet he remained cautious, almost neurotically so. It was a common affliction in the Hyuga Clan: they