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"[color=007236]So, that was it,[/color]" said Haruka quietly to himself, watching the house burn as flames licked its sides. It was a necessary duty, but he wished that it had not been so hurtful for Dotorame to experience. Watching another person die was always painful, especially if it was one's first time encountering the suffering that was involved. In a better world, they wouldn't have had to let the old man die, but that was the only choice they possessed in the situation they had found themselves in.

The green-haired chunin sighed as he turned his attentions to the road back to Konohagakure. It had seemed so relaxed and simple and first, but the mission had turned truly sombre in the end. All this pain and suffering, and there was nothing to truly show for it. No paycheck, no positive experiences, nothing. He always had seen himself as a responsible figure, but he was dreading writing his mission reports. It would be depressing, revisiting everything again.

...

He did not feel like returning home.

...

Shaking his head, Haruka allowed his instincts to take over, letting his mind wander as his feet crunched against the gravel of the rocky earth below him. It was time to trek back to Konoha, no matter how distasteful he would find writing the reports.

He surreptitiously glanced at Dotorame, noting the downcast figure of the young ninja.

They may have been ninja, but a world where children had to suffer was not a world he truly cherished.