Lantern light flickered across a long oak table. Maps were still spread across its surface, marked with ink paths and crossed-out coordinates. Mission scrolls sat stacked near the far end, waiting to be filed.

Three jonin were already seated. A fourth stood by the window, arms crossed, silver hair catching the low light. Kakashi Hatake didn't turn when you entered.

Across the table, a woman you didn't recognize sat straight-backed, her dark eyes tracking your every movement. She was young—early twenties, maybe—with sharp features and a fresh jonin vest that still creased along the seams.