After the ronin entered the harbor, no one in the village mentioned the bridge again.
One watch shift became two. Figures stood on the slope by the bridgehead even during the day, and the guards changed shifts more often than roosters crowed.
The market closed earlier by the day. The sun had barely started west when vendors hoisted their stall boards onto their shoulders. The fish seller let his last fish go cheap, packed up his scales, and left. Unfamiliar faces appeared along the harbor, squatting on mooring posts and standing at the dock entrances. None had any work in hand. Their eyes followed the people passing by, tracking each one all the way to the mouth of the alley before drawing back.
Half of the new seal pasted across the construction site gate was torn away during the night. The remaining half hung from the doorframe. The tear was clean, not the work of wind.
On Back Mountain, Naruto and Sasuke kept up their extra training. They fell twice. On the third try, they reached the treetop one after the other, neither pulling the other up.
One of the old calluses on Sasuke's palm had split. He wrapped a strip of cloth around it and kept climbing.
Sakura sat at the foot of a tree with her notebook open on her knees. Each page was more densely covered than the last, and her pen never stopped.
Kiyoshi took an extra watch shift every night. When anyone asked, he said the wind had changed and he couldn't sleep.
After midnight, the wind came in from the sea, its salty tang sharper than on the previous nights. He broke "they're here" into three things. First the mist, then the blade, and then someone who had yet to show their face. By