Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Uchiha Itachi wasn’t a bad man. Therefore, Senju Tomoe thought—he wouldn’t be a hassle as a husband. 

Sometimes she felt like she knew him for longer than she knew herself, for the Uchiha name was pronounced in her household more times than could be counted. She didn’t keep count of it.

Tomoe knew it from the moment she met him, when they both received the unrequired news of their wedding, which didn’t seem quite like news to the elders of both families, that he had another person to break the news to. Of course, he had a lover. Tomoe would expect a charming man like him to swipe hearts even if he wasn’t doing it on purpose.

Rumor had it Uchihas loved too much, cared too much, and felt too much. She had heard, like every story about her own heritage, and memorized it. Even Sasuke, his younger brother, had a lover of his own. So when Senju Itama had the word and Uchiha Fugaku agreed, not giving much more than a curt nod followed by a hum, Tomoe knew right away that Itachi wasn’t expecting to break the news for his lover in this life—at least in any other.

That night, several alarms were fired in Tomoe’s head. She kept silent and smiled politely, trying to engage in conversation with her fiancé at some point. Itachi didn’t give her more than his own father as an answer for all her attempts.

Tomoe could say, by watching the little crevices of his personality he left open through that dreadful dinner, that he was very much less happy than herself with the decision. To avoid prolonging what felt like a meal to urge queasiness, Tomoe made a show as if she had eaten a whole dish of sansho pepper without realizing it—even if there wasn't a single seed in the dishes. Although it did save her from the humiliation of seeing her fiancé so cold and aloof as if he would rather be anywhere but by her side, it didn’t save her from being scolded like a child when she got back to the Senju estate, nor further it save her from the marriage constitution. 

For the latter, Senju Tomoe couldn’t have saved Uchiha Itachi either.

Three knocks on the door were what it took to bring her back to the day when, by the eyes of everyone she knew, and even other people she had never heard about, she would never be considered Senju Tomoe again. The tick-tock of the clock and every other sound outside served as a reminder of getting closer to her fate.

“Come in,” she said. Tomoe knew whose three knocks were those. Tsunade made her entry slowly, almost as if any sudden sound could make Tomoe break. Tsunade seldom displayed her softer side to anyone, yet decided the bride should be one of the few people on the receiving end of it.  

“You look astonishingly beautiful.”

Tomoe smiled at her relative and thought perhaps it was the most void smile she had ever seen Tomoe’s lips painting. Tsunade couldn’t tell what kind of smile that was. Maybe because she understood in some sense, not that she didn’t love her husband, though she couldn’t even get a chance to marry. Tsunade didn’t know if Tomoe loved someone, and it wasn’t a reason enough for her not to get married to Uchiha Itachi, as much as Tsunade not loving anyone after her beloved one’s death was reason enough. She could only hope Itachi would be as good to Tomoe as Dan was good to her, even for the short time they had. There was not much she could do in her position unless it was to wish something like that.

“Thank you, Tsunade-sama,” Tomoe said, even if Tsunade insisted on her stop calling her in such a manner. “Where’s Itachi-san?”

“He's outside, waiting with the others.”

The youngest courtly nodded at Tsunade’s last sentence.

Tomoe used to think of a wedding full of family and friends, so big that the word everybody would feel like less of a word that encompassed more people than she could count. Itama made it clear that since the bride and groom received the news of their wedding, just a few people could attend. Important people for both families. Not their entire clan. Not friends.

Itachi and Tomoe couldn't choose who would and who wouldn’t attend their wedding.

Glimpsing at how somber the Uchiha estate looked—with nothing impressive other than their clan’s crest all over the walls and everything, Tomoe felt like she was standing inside their clan’s Police Office, waiting for a sentence to fall upon her shoulders. She visited a few times in her life, when she still lived in Konoha. It wasn’t like her clan’s own estate didn’t have things she would change—occasionally, she would feel like she was inside a hospital. Too many clean items. Too much white. It felt like no one lived there.

A foggy thought long surrounding her mind fell upon her when, alongside her father, who entered the room amidst her daydreams, with her mother and Tsunade trailing behind, Tomoe walked to find Itachi waiting for her alongside Mikoto, Fugaku, and Sasuke.

She and Itachi were just like the North and South Poles. Distant and repelled.

Perhaps it is too soon to assume, Tomoe thought. Perhaps we can coexist in peace, she kept thinking. Even became friends. If they couldn’t be lovers, then they could at the very least be partners.

Tomoe truly believed Itachi wouldn’t be a hassle as a husband. More than a belief, it almost became a hope.

Sasuke’s presence by his side was the only solace Itachi found at that moment. Perhaps the fact that the rest of his clan couldn’t attend lifted his spirits a little bit. It meant Izumi wasn’t invited as well. Though Itachi hardly believed it could be worded as a spirit-lifting detail, at least he didn’t have to look at her for the time being.

The groom was in a sour mood, which put his younger brother under the same yoke, whether because they had such proximity as relatives or because they stood side by side. Sasuke always mirrored Itachi best, to the point where both their parents hardly knew where the eldest son’s feelings ended and the youngest’s began.

Itachi somehow felt ashamed that he was harboring feelings he seized, ones he doubted Sasuke himself would feel in his place. Itachi shook his head. He was doing it so his younger brother could be free. There was no reason to think about how Sasuke would handle the situation. He didn’t have to.

The back shoji door facing the backyard of the Uchiha estate opened. The small audience all fell even more silent as if were possible bird was chirping near the ceremony. Itachi felt no dilemma staring at Tomoe—she was wearing a light blue floral kimono, a match for the dark blue of his yukata and haori.

“Itachi,” Mikoto called. “Are you ready?”

Itachi did not dwell much on the answer. If he did, it would probably be one his mother was not expecting to be given.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Sasuke changed the foot his body weight rested.

“Are you ready?” Tomoe could hear her mother ask.

“Yes,” she didn’t hesitate to answer. “Let’s bring it forward, please.”

Itachi got bigger with every step Tomoe took in his direction—not surprising her enough, he didn’t shift on his feet. His eyelids blinked slowly, and his fists were united on the back of his body, like his father's. It came across to Tomoe how her future husband looked like a loyal copy of his father’s face, and Sasuke had very good likenesses of their mother. Truly, Tomoe saw Itachi as both their parents more than Sasuke in physical aspects. Uchihas had quite a reputation for how they looked beyond their outstanding red eyes. This was a subject Tomoe had long accepted. When she was standing in front of her future husband, however, it still felt like standing in front of a handsome, unknown man, no matter how many years of history both their Clans had.

Itachi extended his hand to Tomoe’s waist level, palms facing up. She looked at it and took more seconds to react than to answer her mother. It didn’t look cold, but not exactly welcoming either.

She decided to take it.

The first thing Tomoe noticed was that Itachi’s hands were rough from training. She wasn’t dwelling on the thought beforehand, but it made sense, though she didn’t hear of the commonness of his training habits. Tomoe could guess now that she was touching him for the first time. Itachi had his future drawn in front of him and was soon to take his father’s place at the Konoha Military Police Force, shortly after becoming his Clan’s leader. 

It did, in fact, guarantee him years of training ever since he was a kid, and those years had to pay for themselves somehow—the payment was nothing more than the calluses in his hands. His strength was something Tomoe had yet to see, and his intelligence was something she had long heard about.

Tomoe could fill a line that would go around the outskirts of Konohagakure with girls who would have done unimaginable things to be in her shoes. If it meant Itachi would wipe out the sorrowful expression he had on his face when he turned to the Yondaime, perhaps she could think of swapping places with one of those girls.

Namikaze Minato stood there awkwardly, wearing his perfectly ironed Hokage cloak and a very uncomfortable smile on his face. Sasuke, staring from a few feet away, felt bad for his brother and also for his friend’s father.

At least the Hokage would have something to share with his wife and son when he got home.

“We are all gathered here to celebrate the union of two Clans by the means of Uchiha Itachi and Senju Tomoe.”

Chapter Text

For the first month, it merely felt like Tomoe had moved alone to Itachi’s family’s house, instead of marrying him. Apart from having problems answering someone’s calling her Uchiha Tomoe instead of going by the name she was given, she tried for everything to go as smoothly as possible as she waited for their new house to be finished.

Itachi went to the house every day to get everything done before they moved, and his parents apologized to Tomoe countless times because it wasn’t ready yet for them to have some privacy. Sometimes Sasuke accompanied his brother to lend him a hand. 

The season had just changed. Mikoto and Fugaku were both worried that winter would shortly arrive and perhaps the newlyweds wouldn’t have the time to adapt properly. Adjusting to a new lifestyle in the wintertime is hard. The older couple knew it well when they married in early January years before.

After the wedding ceremony by the end of September, Tomoe used to sit on the engawa a lot in early October, when the days still had some feeble grasp on the summer’s warmth. It felt relieving to feel the breeze smelling faintly like sunny days and the walks by the riverside. It gave her a sense of having things that hadn’t changed along with her marital status. The leaves still turned red, falling like every year.

The very first days, when Itachi was mostly present and engaged with Tomoe in the new house matters, such as style and decoration, before he could work on it, were the days when she had to learn to live in the same house he grew up in and lived all his life with his family. She felt like a fish out of the water. Sasuke was always a little moody if Itachi wasn’t around, and Fugaku was a man of fewer words than his older son. Yet she found solace in Mikoto, who always did everything in her power to make her feel as comfortable as possible, and Sakura, who visited the estate more often than not with the excuse of always having new commands from Hatake Kakashi for Team 7. Tomoe knew the only reason for the visits was that she could see Sasuke, but appreciated the efforts of the pink-haired girl concerning her well-being as a new wife.

The other presence was Uchiha Shisui, whom she found very enjoyable.

The man walked into the Uchiha estate for the first time a month after the wedding—a bouquet full of white roses from the Yamanaka flower shop in hand. Tomoe was seated by the engawa as she waited for Mikoto to fetch a piece of Itachi’s uniform that needed occasional mending. She smiled politely upon seeing Shisui. Mikoto emerged through the shoji doors holding Itachi’s green vest jacket, identical to his father’s.

“Shisui! I didn't know you were already back!”

Shisui walked a few steps and stopped next to the engawa where Tomoe was sitting.

“I came back earlier than expected,” Shisui mirrored her polite, small smile as he glanced at her. “Here to visit Itachi’s wife.”

Tomoe took a few seconds to realize he was talking about her.

“Oh… me?”

“Yes,” he nodded and extended the bouquet to her with a friendly smile. “This is for you.”

Mikoto grinned. Her dark-onyx eyes, the same color Tomoe was getting used to seeing in her husband’s eyes, disappeared as the corner of her lips went higher and her eyelids met her waterline. Tomoe accepted the white roses with deep-rosy hues on her burning cheeks. It was the first present she received from a member of the clan. It was a nice gesture.

“Thank you, Shisui-san,” she slightly bowed her head and smelled the roses. “They smell good.”

Shisui grinned.

“You don't have to be so formal around me. I’m like Itachi’s nii-san. He calls me nii-san most of the time.”

Tomoe smiled awkwardly at that. She didn’t think she could feel comfortable behaving toward every clan member as if she were born Uchiha. But she also wanted to consider Shisui’s words. Perhaps the reason she was feeling so out of place was the way she was keeping everyone at arm’s length. She acted just like her great-grandfather, keeping them distant. Shisui’s words made her realize she didn’t want that.

“Okay, Shisui-sa–” Tomoe corrected herself before she could finish it, “Shisui.”

Mikoto and Shisui laughed. Tomoe blushed harder, clutching the roses to her chest with all due care not to crumple the pieces.

“Itachi is not here yet,” said Mikoto. “His presence at the Hokage’s office was requested by Sondaime-sama.”

Shisui’s brows raised, and Tomoe’s attention spiked up. It was only natural that a wife should be curious about the things concerning her husband. It gave her a sense of purpose while adjusting to the new life—she didn’t have much to do, so it was better to get to know things about the man she was going to share a futon with until her last day.

Tomoe blinked rapidly. 

The thought of sharing something so private as where she rested after a long day never crossed her mind. Itachi usually crashed on the common area’s futon instead of going to disrupt Tomoe’s sleep. She knew they never slept together because the place where he was supposed to lie was always neat in the morning, exactly how she remembered it before she went to sleep.

“The Sondaime?” He frowned. “I thought it would stop happening since we left the ANBU. It has been years.”

Mikoto sympathized with her firstborn’s best friend's reaction. The elders had already caused too much trouble for the youngest.

“I think Sondaime-sama only wants to make sure he is okay. There is nothing to be worried about.”

Tomoe thought about the billion possibilities for the Sondaime Hokage’s desire to know if Itachi was okay. Apart from knowing everything about the Uchihas and even about the prodigy her husband is, she didn’t know things concerning the way he lived in Konohagakure. All she knew was about the past his clan had with her own, and things the other four great Shinobi Countries knew about him as well. She was out for too long to have known what happened in her birthplace.

“I will talk to Itachi when I have the chance. Today I came here for Tomoe-san,” Shisui turned to Tomoe and smiled again, being a little more formal, exactly the way he asked her not to be. She noticed it seemed like he smiled quite often. “I hope you feel welcome here. Don't worry about Itachi. He’s a good guy.”

When Shisui left, Tomoe asked Mikoto if she had a spare vase for the flowers. She guaranteed it was only until she went to the market to buy one, but got dismissed by the older woman. Mikoto handed Itachi’s jacket to her, disappearing behind the shoji doors. Tomoe held the bouquet in one hand and Itachi’s clothing in the other, thinking about Shisui’s visit. He had been nothing but gracious.

Tomoe looked down at the green piece of Military clothing in her hand. It had visible usage marks and some stains. Upon touching the material, a smell she slowly started to memorize rushed through her nostrils. It smelled like wood in springtime and embers. She thought it couldn’t have been different for a user of a style the same as his. 

Mikoto came back with an earthenware vase colored red and handed it to Tomoe, who, in turn, placed it full of white roses on the engawa beside where she would be fixing Itachi’s jacket. She planned it to be placed next to her futon until the petals started to fall.

Itachi got home two hours after Tomoe’s bedtime. She was fast asleep when he entered the room to pick up fresh clothes. Itachi made almost no noise and left without looking back—not before he noticed the vase full of white roses next to Tomoe’s futon. After a much-awaited bath, he found Sasuke still awake, sitting on the engawa, when he placed the damp bath towel to dry on the clothesline. His brother’s clothes were already the ones he used to sleep in, but his face showed no signs that he intended to rest soon. Sasuke had his upper body against one of the timber frames.

“How are things in the house going?”

Itachi hung the towel, walked to Sasuke, and sat by his side.

“Almost done. I think we will be moving out in a few days.”

Sasuke nodded and looked at the sky. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help today. The Yondaime handed Kakashi-sensei a new mission. I will be traveling when you move out.”

“It’s okay, Sasuke,” Itachi smiled. “Maybe next time.”

Itachi serenely laughed, thinking about the old times when he used to be so busy with the ANBU and Shisui that he barely had any time to be with his brother. Sasuke sighed. The blame ate him alive, and he didn’t know how to take that weight off his shoulders—knowing very well Itachi, of all people, would be the last one to put that blame on him to carry. Sometimes Sasuke wondered how things would have gone if Itachi had never told him about their clan’s plans—if he hadn’t interfered the way he did.

Would his brother be happier then?

“What about Izumi-chan?” Sasuke’s voice was in the lowest tone Itachi had ever heard.

“She will be okay,” Itachi muttered.

Itachi loathed those words but did not comment any further. He could grasp a piece of Sasuke’s sentiments regarding his matrimony—he had no desire to worsen the situation.

“Do you regret it?”

He sighed. Itachi knew what Sasuke was getting so conflicted about. He wondered if there was ever an option none of them would feel burdened. But no matter what different paths he tried to picture, it always ended with at least one of them having to make a hard choice, a sacrifice. Itachi would rather it be him than Sasuke.

“If I weren’t who I am, maybe,” Itachi looked at his younger brother. “But I am satisfied enough, Sasuke. You don’t have to worry about your older brother. Leave that for me, would you?”

Sasuke wasn’t satisfied with his brother’s short reply. Although it wasn’t enough, he decided, at least for that night, that a few words would have to do, though. He would leave Konohagakure soon and didn’t want to do it if he knew he could not fully concentrate on the mission if his thoughts were anywhere else but with him. It would do no good for Kakashi, Sakura, and Naruto. And it certainly would do no good for him either.

For years throughout their childhood, Yamanaka Ino thought Haruno Sakura’s obsession with Uchiha Sasuke consisted of some kind of childish feeling—even if she was smitten herself. It felt like a contest. Some kind of never-ending race for territory dominance over the coolest boy at the Academy. Somehow, the years ran faster than Ino realized. The more they both grew up, the more she felt curiosity growing inside from how Sakura never seemed to let those supposed childish feelings go.

They gathered at Ichiraku to talk and laugh about Naruto’s birthday party and to say goodbye before Team 7 went on another mission. Shikamaru hissed at the talking blonde whilst Choji ate everything he could fill his mouth with. Usually, Ino would have commented on Choji’s eating habits just to see Shikamaru stressing out. But the way the pink-haired girl left her ramen bowl untouched, mirroring Sasuke, intrigued her. Ino poked Sakura’s side, but she ignored it. Her gaze was solely on the quiet guy—a stark contrast to the Uzumaki kid by his side.

“It’s going to get cold,” Ino murmured. “Lukewarm ramen must taste horrible.”

Sakura’s eyebrows creased. “I’m not hungry.”

“Stop staring at Sasuke-kun, then. Dumb-face.”

“Eh?!” Sasuka’s eyes bulged. “I’m not staring!”

Ino pursed her lips. She would have used her Shintenshin on Sasuke just so she could know what his sorrowful expression was all about and put an end to the agony of having to see Sakura’s ugly, sad face, but knew better than to try. He would have caught her the moment she looked his way. Perhaps he already knew what she and Sakura were talking about.

Ino looked at Ichiraku’s curtains the moment she felt another presence. A woman she recognized as Uchiha Mikoto entered alongside another she had never seen before. The redhead held an empty glass flower vase to her chest.

Even if nobody had told her, Ino would have known who the woman by Mikoto’s side was. She looked at Sakura, who was already looking in the same direction.

“Okaasan,” Sasuke said. “Tomoe-san. What are you doing here?”

The chatting between the teens subsided. Ino saw one of Shikamaru’s eyebrows rise. Choji did not stop eating.

“We were at the market and I decided to give Tomoe something to eat. She hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

“Why is that?”

“I was settling the last details of the house with Itachi, Sakura-chan. I also needed a new vase for Shisui-san’s welcoming flowers, so I came to the market.”

Ino recalled the day Uchiha Shisui left the Yamanaka flower shop with a bouquet of white roses.

“Are the flowers still good?” Ino asked. It had been a few days. “Shisui-sensei bought it at my family’s flower shop a few days ago.”

“Yes,” Tomoe nodded and smiled. “I hope they can endure the nuisance of moving out. They’re very beautiful flowers.”

“Where’s Itachi?” Sasuke asked with a slightly sour mood.

Mikoto answered first. She knew how to deal with her youngest son better than anyone there—well, she was the one to give birth to him. “At his house, Sasuke. He says he will miss you when you’re off on your mission.”

Sasuke kept silent as he felt his cheeks burn. Everybody kept silent upon seeing the scene unfold—his mother left with her daughter-in-law after ordering two takeaway ramen bowls, like she hadn’t put him in the most nefarious situation of his life toward his friends.

Sakura managed to smile a little then.

There weren’t many things the newlyweds had to move to the new house. Tomoe realized Itachi had just a little more stuff than herself.

The flowers did not survive, sadly.

After Tomoe emptied her boxes, she debated whether she should empty Itachi’s boxes as well. They were stacked on the engawa, each one with its name written on it. She decided to take them inside since the sky was gray—it would be bad if it started to rain. She decided to put everything in its place, so he could have a chance to change anything he wanted to change when he had time, and his things would not still be inside the boxes.

The first box guarded his family photos from the harsh movements of moving. Tomoe didn’t want to feel like she was intruding on something so personal, but couldn’t help gazing at the first small wooden frame, protecting a picture of a young Itachi and an even younger Sasuke. Her husband didn’t change much, she thought, apart from the childish lines he had back then—even the deep lines he had from the top of his nose to the middle of his cheeks were there, but smaller. Sasuke, on the other hand, had rosy flushes on his cheeks and a look of innocence in his eyes. They were very much alike in physical traits. Both were adorable kids.

The next frame held a photo of Mikoto beside Sasuke and Itachi beside Fugaku—they all had small smiles on their faces, apart from Sasuke, who smiled so big his eyes disappeared. There was another frame below, one Itachi was alone. He wore his full Police Officer uniform and had a solemn look on his face. Even though his Sharingan was not activated, it felt like an impossible task to dart her eyes from the picture.

She wondered if it was the same as when he would cast a Genjutsu on an opponent. Moreover, she wondered if she could be considered some kind of opponent to him.

Tomoe decided it was enough of prying. She put Itachi’s photos beside the very few of her own and started to fold his clothes. She blushed deep burgundy like her hair when he had to put his underwear neatly in his part of the wardrobe. Once everything was in its rightful place, Tomoe took the time she had left before Itachi came back from the headquarters to walk through the house.

It felt a little empty, but she did everything in her power to make it feel a little bit warmer. She made a mental note that it still had a long way to go until it was filled with meaningful things and considered a home. Perhaps a few plants on the engawa to complete the green of the small garden.

Upon seeing the final result of everything that had been done in the house, Tomoe thought back to when Itachi gave her the autonomy to participate in the process of creating the space where they would be living from that day on. The right side of her lips was a little bit higher in the smallest of smiles.

It was a beautiful house.

Small enough for only two people, but close enough to the river that she could hear the water and smell the droplets that landed on the grass.

Tomoe wished someday it could also be a home.  

“Is it to your liking?”

Her husband’s baritone made her jolt and hiccup. She felt mortified as she looked back at him. He was wearing the same uniform as he was in the picture she had been snooping moments before, and she had to fight the urge to blush upon noticing it.

Itachi’s proximity was unnoticeable, something she suspected he mastered long ago. 

Tomoe nodded, still dying from mortification. “It’s better than I imagined,” she gave another brief look around, not sure if to register everything or just avoid his gaze. “Thank you, Itachi-san.”

She made a mental note to thank Sasuke later, too. The younger boy had his part in everything.

Chapter Text

A change of scenery is a reasonable choice if you want to change other things in your life, some say. For Izumi, it felt like the only choice she had if she didn't want to drown.

Before Itachi could return from his month away from the Military Police, Izumi had returned her uniform at the headquarters early in the morning, only an hour before the sun rose. The air was frigid, characteristic of winter daybreaks. Izumi clutched the attire to her chest, thinking about the way Fugaku did as much as shaking his head once she announced the intention to leave. She couldn’t have waited for more than what was given, and yet she stood on the borderline between thinking it was good enough, she did not have any problems, and wishing it didn’t feel like it was just a matter of getting rid of a bump in the road.

The process between returning her things and going to the ANBU headquarters was simple, but she wasn’t counting on it to be on the same day. Izumi thought it was a good idea anyway—having to stay for too long without occupying her mind was off the books. In her case, every second she stood still enough to be taken away in a daydream was enough.

The thought always had long ebony hair, raven eyes, and the most tranquil face one could ever have.

Even after a few months of refusing to look at him or anything that had a slight chance of bringing back the memory of him, Izumi felt a certain difficulty in ignoring things related to the man. Her parents noticed their daughter's agony, but talking to Uchiha Fugaku was something they could not do. They wouldn’t have much to say anyway. The decision was made before Izumi could have a say in anything, and what had to be done was already done without further ado.

Izumi left the Konoha Military Police Headquarters empty-handed. She could swear she saw something akin to compassion flash for less than a second behind Fugaku’s eyes.

“Where is Izumi?” Itachi asked with an unfriendly look, not caring if the man before him was the person he owed respect to. At that moment, Fugaku was just his father, not his commander.

Every person in the building knew better than to cross Itachi’s path when his eyebrows creased a little too much at the center of his forehead. It happened on rare occasions; few of his clan members had seen it. His father, however, had long mastered the rage of his firstborn when he awakened it in the first place. That was something he could deal with.

Fugaku was convinced news really spread like wildfire. It hadn’t been more than a few hours since Izumi had departed.

“I believe she has headed to the ANBU headquarters some time ago.”

It would have left Itachi satisfied sufficiently if his father didn’t have the habit of using exploits to get his point across, as he did at that moment.

“Is your wife doing well?”

Itachi left without a word.

The silence inside the house when Tomoe could hear almost every Uchiha coming back home after a long day felt a little overwhelming.

It still felt wrong, as if she was stealing someone else’s place, even after almost three months.

From the half-open door that led to the small backyard of the property, Tomoe could see the first snow in mid-December from the kitchen, painting the ground a perfect milky white. It reminded her of the days in her childhood when she used to watch the snowfall for hours. Her mother used to set a place right next to a door that she used to leave half-open—a tangle of blankets that smelled like infancy was used to keep her warm as she watched it like an event. When the adults were not paying attention to the little mischievous girl, that was when she went outside to make snow angels in the garden.

Tomoe always came back inside coughing and sneezing, with teary eyes and a red nose. It made her a happy child.

The memories made her miss her parents. They didn’t visit her when she was at Itachi’s childhood home, but the news of the completion of the work on the new house brought them on a long visit as soon as they could. They had approved Itachi’s work, and Tomoe could see something akin to relief in both their eyes. For the first time since she received the messenger eagle in Tetsu no Kuni, she felt some kind of relief, too. 

The sound of the boiling water brought her back from where she was daydreaming to the kitchen. Even if she had closed all the doors and windows, the characteristic smell was still very much present. Not her favorite one, but it came closer. It had been a long time since she picked a smell to be her favorite.

From the window right above the small kitchen counter, Tomoe could see the backyard with clarity. Itachi had made some changes in the undersized garden as he saw fit, and she did not get involved. The garden had a new little pond, like the original idea of his childhood house, and also added a small henhouse at the farthest corner. He also painted the clan crest a brighter red. The chickens and rooster he brought home one day after the construction of the henhouse turned into some kind of companion whenever Shisui could not visit. Mikoto’s visits were also less frequent—as a mother, she judged it would be better to let her son live his life on his own.

Tomoe found Mikoto’s lack of presence to be a little saddening, nevertheless.

“How are the chickens?” Shisui’s voice had a worried edge to it as if the chickens were actual children. That made Tomoe smile and laugh a little.

He was the only one keeping her company besides the chickens that day, once Sakura was also traveling with Sasuke and their chunin team. Itachi was usually not at home when he visited.

“They are doing very well, thank you.” Tomoe turned off the stove, taking the hot kettle to rest properly in the pouring stand on the table. “I feed them, though I don't know if Itachi-san has any kind of affinity with it. Has he had any trauma related to chickens?”

Shisui thought back to the time when Itachi told him he had made twenty-seven sunny-side-up eggs for Sasuke’s breakfast, just because he popped the yolk when he flung the eggs. Six of those eggs he had to try to take away from their family’s chickens when he had already used two packs of half a dozen.

The man blinked, trying to hold back a giggle. Shisui had no intention to give his friend to his own wife.

“I think he doesn't have a good relationship with them, no. That’s why I worried about those chickens' well-being in the first place.”

Tomoe sat on the other side of the table, cross-legged, mimicking her visitor. Her giggles at the expense of her husband couldn’t be contained as she did so, contrary to Shisui himself.

An invitation for a warm cup of tea was offered to him when he showed up to check up on her and the chickens as well. This appreciative gesture didn’t go unnoticed, and Shisui gladly accepted it. He had to hold back a laugh when she gracefully did it as if she were inviting him to a Hokage nomination ceremony.

Shisui thought back to the letter Itachi sent him to inform him about the wedding and its reasons. He couldn't have pictured Tomoe to be half of what she ostensibly was—when he read his friend’s words back then, he immediately thought about a woman who was like Tsunade in personality. High chance of it being because Tomoe was a Senju, just like the Shodai Hokage's granddaughter. Shisui’s affinity with the Senju clan was nonexistent until he met her. Tsunade was away from Konohagakure for too long for him to know the smallest aspects of Senju Hashirama’s only descendant. The man only had occasional remembrance of Tomoe when she was still a kid who couldn’t have been much younger than Itachi himself at that time. Other than that, not everyone in Konohagakure could’ve recalled what she looked like or had been in contact with her to know her manners. After the Third Great Ninja War ended, she was gone without a trace.

The visitor noticed she had become a good young woman.

“Here,” Tomoe extended her hands and poured some hot water into his teacup. 

Slightly bowing his head, Shisui thanked her. He took a sip and tasted cinnamon spice. The smell already gave in, but the taste was surprisingly better. A good tea for wintertime.

“It tastes very good.”

Tomoe smiled. She used those few seconds of his sipping to analyze the man before her. When he first showed up at Itachi’s family estate, he did not seem to be clueless about the wedding. He knew his friend had married and who he married. Itachi must’ve sent a messenger to him. Tomoe’s own family didn’t open up much about the ulterior motive she had to be wedded to Itachi of all Konohagakure men, so it was a surprise someone outside their families knew. She pondered asking him, but shook her head to dispel those thoughts. They didn’t have enough affinity for her to appeal to such queries.

“How did you and Itachi-san become friends?” Tomoe smiled and shook her head, pouring some into her cup once the water was no longer so hot. She saw Shisui’s smile growing and deduced it was the better path to take in the conversation.

“He was very young. He’s younger than me by three years. I met him when he graduated from the Academy. He was in a haze,” he frowned. “I guess that was what to expect for a boy his age. Everyone his age was still there, so it must have felt odd.”

Tomoe knew about Itachi’s exceptional performance at the Academy from a very young age. She was not residing at Konohagakure anymore, yet she suspected even the other four great Shinobi countries knew about her husband’s younger self’s doings and the kind of ninja he already was, one he wasn’t far from becoming.

She focused on the symbol embroidered on each side of Shisui’s dark blue haori, laid on his large shoulders over his winter clothes. A red and white colored simple uchiwa was a reminder of which clan both men (he and her husband) belonged to, and from the wedding day on, she as well. She wore a similar dark red haori with the same embroidery as his.

“I heard about this story.”

Shisui’s eyebrows shot up. “How so?”

“My parents used to send me an eagle each month so I could know what was happening here,” she blushed at the prospect of opening up about herself with someone in Konohagakure after so long, even more so for Shisui’s unwavering attention, solemnly on her. “Even so, I think many people came to know about it,” Tomoe smiled shyly. “Word spreads like wildfire. A prodigy like him should be known among shinobi and even common people like me.”

Shisui didn’t want to come off as a prying man. Tomoe’s definition of herself spiked his curiosity. He knew as much that she had lived for many years away from Konohagakure, not knowing the reasons behind her absence. Shisui also could see what seemed to be mild discomfort in talking about herself. He tried not to sound nosy as he voiced his question.

“What do you mean when you say ‘common people like you’?”

The woman in front of him winked three times before she answered. 

“I was born with no chakra.”

Itachi himself must have felt it at some point (the absence of chakra coming from her), if not informed of it beforehand by the elders of their families. Tomoe had a sudden thought. He didn’t inform his friend, though, if he knew about it, he also didn’t remark on it; not with her or with his friend.

Towards Shisui’s silent retort, Tomoe added: “I know a Senju with no chakra sounds shocking…”

“Being born with almost no chakra is more common than you think, Tomoe-san,” he disproved her words quickly. “I know a few here in Konohagakure and other villages, too. Some are exceptionally good shinobi.”

“That is good to hear,” she offered with a warm smile.

“Maito Gai is one of them. He fought against Uchiha Obito on their Chunin Exam and won. I think you’d like to meet him someday.”

“I bet I would,” she nodded. “From the way you’re talking, I bet Uchiha Obito is strong. Yet Maito Gai won against him… that was a great fight, no?”

“They were both kids, but I know for sure Obito wasn't considered strong back then. He’s one of the strongest Uchiha Clan members now, though,” Shisui smiled. Tomoe could see how fulfilled he was in just talking about the prodigies in his clan. “I think you haven't met him because he’s out on a mission longer than me. But his lover is still here in Konoha. Her name is Rin. You remind me of her.”

“I will take that as a compliment. I’d like to meet Rin someday, too.” 

Silence was installed, and Shisui looked at the clock on the kitchen wall—it was time to go before Itachi came back. He dared not do anything that caused his friend’s discomfort, which included being at his house when all he wanted was to rest from the long day.

“I have to go now,” Shisui said as he got up and bowed politely. “Thank you for the tea. Tell Itachi his work on the house paid for itself. It’s lovely.”

“Thank you for the company,” Tomoe smiled. “I will.”

At least she wished she could transmit Itachi’s best friend’s words to him—regardless of her full conscience of his habit of spending the shortest amount of time possible with her. Tomoe didn’t feel comfortable disclosing this matter with Shisui, settling for sharing another timid smile.

She would try aanywayso she wouldn’t forget it. Perhaps going to sleep a little later to catch up to Itachi in the name of Shisui’s kind company.

The chickens were already asleep—silence coming from the henhouse at nighttime meant the day had gone well. Itachi saw the light from the genkan still on. He took a few steps until he could open the front shoji door.

There, already far into what seemed a peaceful slumber, Itachi found Tomoe to be sitting in a very uncomfortable position. He could not possibly have held his surprised utterance.

“Hn?”

He wondered how Tomoe’s situation didn’t seem to bother her in any aspect when it would be uncomfortable even for him to be sleeping in that stance. She had her legs under herself, the way Itachi was so used to seeing his mother bidding farewell to his father when he had to go to work. But Tomoe’s back wasn’t upright anymore, tipping on the wall, right above the tataki—not bidding farewell like his mother, instead offering a unique welcome.

Had she been there for too long? How were her legs not hurting? It was already late and cold. The early snow outside made it feel like they were already in the middle of January. Itachi took notice that she wore only a dark red haori over her clothes. He realized she must’ve fallen asleep waiting for him.

Tomoe didn’t move a muscle when he took off his shoes and put them on the gatebako. Her situation made Itachi wonder if there was something so urgent she had to say that she took it upon herself to wait for his arrival like that.

It increased the risks of Tomoe waking up if he kept staring at her as he was, yet he stood there like the first time he tried to understand a shogi board and its pieces. Itachi felt unsure, divided by the decision to take her to her futon or the decision to place a blanket over her shoulders and let her be.

Most husbands would know what to do.

Trying not to make heavy sounds, his feet landed soundlessly on the wooden floor. Itachi looked over his shoulder to make sure Tomoe didn’t move, letting out a relieved sigh when he saw she was still in the same stance.

For the first thing, Itachi could have thought he would learn about his wife, that she was such a heavy sleeper, surely wouldn’t be on his list if he had one. He found that a characteristic to be envious about, even. Recalling the last time he slept like that was a considerably hard task.

Tomoe’s futon was settled untouched on their shared bedroom tatami flooring. Itachi had made his choice then. 

Chapter Text

Heavy lids blinked slowly as she woke up from sleep. Waking up to a heavy body often indicated that the rest had been adequate. Tomoe felt her legs heavier than the rest of her body; a strange type of difficulty in moving her lower limbs made her raise her torso; the heavy feeling did not subside with movement.

Natural light came in the shoji doors—the air still felt frigid from the snowy night. Tomoe struggled to retrieve her memories from the previous night. Her eyes navigated through the genkan. She realized it wasn’t the place she was supposed to be resting, yet how she ended up there was another question. Itachi’s sandals were still on the gatebako, she noticed. It meant he was still home. Tomoe didn’t know what time in the morning it was. She tried to get up, using the wall next to her as leverage. The movement made the blanket that was still covering her body from her shoulders below move. Tomoe frowned.

The memories came back to her when she gazed at the pillow below her. She was sure both items had never been brought to the genkan with her.

A bowl of rice, miso soup, tsukemono, and grilled fish. Tomoe started with the most ordinary meal she could prepare since she did not know what kind of food Itachi preferred. Ever since they moved, he had not commented on her cooking selections. Mikoto never commented on Itachi’s preferences, so Tomoe decided that learning about his cuisine preferences would be a task she would complete slowly and alone.

Then, she remembered the wall clock hands. When she finished the meal preparation, it was already time for him to come home, as everyone in the Uchiha district, she had guessed. Tomoe walked to the genkan and kneeled with her hands joined between her thighs. Shisui’s words came back to her along with the remembrance of the desire to tell Itachi about his friend’s words. Perhaps even chat about the pleasant visit.

A lot of things crossed her mind while she was lingering, waiting for the door to slide sideways. The introspection that perhaps it would make them act less as strangers and more as companions made her keep on waiting for even an entire hour.

An hour and a half later of constant thoughts and daydreams, her eyelids started to become heavy. Tomoe recalled not much after her body leaned in towards the wall. 

The muscle inside her chest leaped with the next memory—the remarkable stress lines on his face made her unmistakably realize the hot hand behind her head could only have belonged to him. She hadn’t realized Itachi was back, nor had she known the hour of his arrival. From behind still heavy lids, she saw his creased eyebrows. Her mind was too clogged with sleep to distinguish the look on his face, but it soothed as she felt something soft below her head. She had forgotten what she was doing at the genkan. Just as she opened her eyes when she felt her body being moved from the previous stance, they closed again. The soft feeling of the pillow beneath her head and the warmth from the blanket single-handedly lulled her back to sleep.

Itachi’s nearly soundless steps were the last thing Tomoe heard, and his stress lines were the last she saw.

“Shisui said… it is a lovely house,” was the last thing she uttered.

Blinking, awake, and with fully regained memory, her gaze lingered on the tataki. The sandals still in the gatebako meant he was still home that morning. Perhaps she would be able to transmit his friend’s words adequately then.

There are knitted nests in the henhouse,” Itachi commented as he watched the perfect-side-up eggs put in front of him. “Did you…?”

Tomoe blushed. Her cheeks were probably a darker shade than the teriyaki sauce beside his plate. Itachi wondered why she blushed so much in certain situations. Was it like every other girl back in his time in the Academy? He hadn’t been paying attention to whether she did it with everybody else. Itachi knew she had been away for years, but didn’t know the details behind the long-term distance from Konohagakure—hadn’t she been interacting with the opposite sex?

Itachi prevented his eyes from growing in size when a certain thought came to his mind and was forced out as soon as it popped up.

“I thought it was too cold for them,” she offered a small smile, still blushing. “I like to knit. When you’re off to work, there’s not much I can do if I stay home.”

Itachi blinked slowly. His thoughts never went there, to what Tomoe could do to distract herself when he was away. That was the second thing the man learned about his wife—she enjoyed knitting enough to make nests for the chickens to lay eggs in winter. It was nice. Itachi wouldn’t have thought of it to be one of her interests. He was beginning to learn those things at a very slow pace, if he had an opinion. 

How she acquired knitting knowledge, however, went unnoticed by him, though.

“You can go to the market or take a walk,” he offered. “Is there something you want to buy?”

She thought of his offer as a plate was placed where she intended to sit, on the opposite side of the chabudai. This was the most conversation they had ever had since the house was done. His offer appealed to her, although it was hard to picture that a walk alone on cold days would bring benefits. But it was better than staying inside alone, of course.

Tomoe enjoyed knitting nests for the chickens, but as a human being, socializing with other human beings was still one of the basic things she needed to be mentally healthy.

Three months were enough to settle, she decided. So, she would be helping with whatever she could in the village, and all the chickens would have a warm nest to lay eggs.

“Maybe more wool for the chicken nests. I haven't finished them yet.”

“I didn't know chickens could lay eggs this big,” Shisui gazed at the white oval thing in Tomoe’s gloved hands with wide eyes. She giggled and scrunched her frigid nose. “This thing is as big as a shuriken!”

It wasn’t that big, but Tomoe gladly accepted the overvaluation.

If a shinobi’s inexperience with chickens was anything to go by, it wouldn’t take much knowledge for Shisui to catch a glimpse of how well those chickens were being dealt with. Upon seeing that egg, the man truly felt thrilled, nothing more than the result of Tomoe’s and the chicken's hard work. Well, if the case were that the animals' well-being were directly related to how big the eggs would be. The happier the chickens, the bigger the eggs. Shisui couldn’t know. Eventually, judging by how the animals had their feathers looking fine and were all calm, as he had never seen a chicken before, he wished they could still keep on laying those big eggs for the small family of two.

“They’re still not laying many eggs, but the ones they do are always big.”

“You take good care of them,” Shisui commented as they walked back to the house, sheltered away from the snow.

“Thank you,” Tomoe smiled. “I hope they feel comfortable enough to lay more eggs.”

“I think the nests will help them,” he added. “How did you learn to knit?”

Tomoe took some seconds to answer. “There was a merchant back where I lived, a remarkably kind old woman. She was the one who taught me.”

“I’m surprised a merchant had time…”

“Hmmm…” Tomoe dramatically squinted. “I suspect she hadn’t, but I think she took pity on me.”

Shisui had long learned how to read people even without his Sharingan, perhaps when he was still only a teen. Her answer prompted no more questions. He didn’t dare bulge her past. The interest in it could still be pestering him for longer before he took the initiative to ask. 

They enjoyed some sembei before Shisui announced he had to retreat, and that he would not be visiting for some time due to a mission handed by the Yondaime. Not before he promised to introduce her to Obito and Rin when he came back, since he thought it would be nice for her to get to know the Uchihas rather than just him and Itachi’s family. 

Tomoe wished him a good expedition, although she was already looking blue at the announcement.

It was almost January. Only a few sunny yet cold days with no sight of snow left of the year. Sasuke had come back from a successful mission alongside Sakura, Naruto, and their sensei. Itachi had been catching up with his brother as much as he could since he was put on a fine edge every time the youngest of the Uchiha brothers was put to fulfill his duties as a chunin. At that pace, Sasuke would soon be a jonin.

Tomoe visited her parents, meanwhile, also getting a visit from Mikoto and Fugaku. The latter seemed more observant as they inquired if she had any needs, and the situation sat uncomfortably on her stomach, not that he was anything near bad to her. Fugaku was just a distant man, so his sudden seeming concern stagnated bewilderment in her gut. Mikoto asked her oldest son many times how he was doing in his duties as a husband, but Tomoe had little to say. Instead of strangers, she could tell that their relationship had evolved to something a little more amicable. Her son was still a man of few words. The hopes got higher as he came back with wools of various colors for her to knit more—he hadn’t engaged more, although seeing her satisfied with his purchase made him feel a lot less guilty for not being around as much as she probably needed.

On the first day of the new year, it was announced that Sarutobi Hiruzen would retire from his position as the Sondaime Hokage. Namikaze Minato was named the Yondaime Hokage months before the news, and Hiruzen’s permanency brought up many doubts. As soon as the news was officialized by the councilors, she made it just as a lot of people were doing to have something they could offer to the Sondaime in the form of a thank you for his long years of service. She wasn’t there for the last years of his leadership, yet the old man with the smoking pipe was a part of a few of her childhood memories. After such a long time away, he allowed her to come back to the village without problems. Tomoe thought it was the right thing to do now that she was a Konohagakure civilian living in Konoha.

Yamanaka Flower Shop was the most famous flower shop in the village at that time. Despite the cold of wintertime, it was full of people trying to do the same as Tomoe. She couldn’t have fought the timid smile on her face after a slight anxious once-over around the shop—it was good to be home.

From the most varied lily bouquets to the simplest single roses, Tomoe felt a kind of indecisiveness she had never experienced in her time back at Tetsu no Kuni. There were no followers there, only snow. The flowers that came from neighboring countries never survived either. Tomoe’s mind contest did not end before the flower shop was nearly empty of flowers—the only thing remaining was a few petals on the ground.

Ino had a gawky smile on her face as she scratched the back of her head, telling the few people who remained at the shop that she was sorry about having no flowers left. Tomoe guessed the flower shop was closed for that day then. She walked back to the district, thinking about what more she had to offer to the former Hokage. There was more than enough wool at home to knit a piece for him, although she doubted he would be too keen on wearing anything colorful. If she had to think about it, Tomoe had never seen the old man wearing anything other than his characteristic Hokage garments.

At the very heart of the Uchiha district, however, there was a smaller flower shop. Tomoe recalled it from the walks she had with Mikoto at the end of September. It came like a lightbulb above her head, sufficiently convenient. Tomoe fastened her pace, in hopes of catching at least one remaining bouquet, until she was jogging. The small flower shop was open and running with nobody inside, and it took a relieved breath out of Tomoe’s mouth. Uchiha Ayame, the woman whom she recalled to be the owner, was outside watering the colorful variety on display for anyone who passed by—an uchiwa was made of red and white roses, whimsically.

Tomoe smiled at Ayame when the older woman caught sight of her, standing at a comfortable distance. Ayame lowered the watering pot before she could return Tomoe’s smile.

“Ah, Itachi-kun’s wife, right?” A nod was what she received for an answer. “Come in, dear. What can I do for you?”

There was a still unfinished bouquet put neatly in a ceramic jar on the counter. Tomoe wasn’t a flower expert, but lilies were just as recognizable as roses—they stole her attention in orange shades.

“I just need a bouquet for Sondaime-sama.”

Ayame nodded. “I heard the news,” she walked to where her tools were. “Although it took some time for him to retire. So, what flowers do you want?”

“I don't know much about flowers,” Tomoe admitted, frowning. “Is there a flower to wish someone good fortune?”

“Um… let’s see what we can do with what I have here,” Ayame also frowned, fitting her chin between her thumb and index finger. “Perhaps pink tulips? They are given when the giver wishes good luck to whomever is receiving.”

The younger followed the older’s gaze behind her, towards a small shelf with enough pink tulips to make a small bouquet. She smiled and swung her gaze back to Ayame, who had a delighted grin on her face. 

“Pink tulips then.”

Somewhere in the middle of their conversation, Tomoe heard children's giggles as Ayame handled her tools. Not long after, two small girls, not over five years of age, came running from a door behind the counter. They circled it, including herself, around three times as Ayame told them they couldn’t do it if she was handling scissors. The kids did not bother to hear, and Tomoe had to hold back a giggle—she had no desire to seize Ayame’s authority in front of the girls.

“Tsubaki! Takada!” Upon hearing their first names, the girls halted side by side with their hands behind their backs. They did not look Ayame in the eyes. “I told you to stop running inside the shop, haven't I?!” Then she turned to Tomoe. “I’m sorry, Tomoe-san. They’re too young to go to the Academy,y and there’s not much they can do besides running in circles all day long.”

“It’s okay,” Tomoe smiled.

“Tomoe-san? Are you Itachi-kun’s wife?!” One of the girls screeched.

“We’re four. We’re getting into the Academy next year!” The other said. Then at the same time, “Kaasan—!”

Ayame sighed deeply before she went back to her task. “I swear, one of these days they’re making me go nuts…”

“They’re cute kids,” Tomoe assured.

“Mhm,” Ayame offered a proud smile. “Cute as a hurricane. And as they proudly announced, both four-year-olds.”

“And getting into the Academy next year!” The girl whom Tomoe thought was Takada added.

Tsubaki and Takada looked exactly like each other—characteristic Uchiha raven-dark hair and onyx eyes. One of them had shoulder-length hair; the other had hair longer than Tomoe’s mahogany red. She smiled at them, wondering if their dynamic somehow resembled Itachi and Sasuke’s. They grinned in return.

“I think it’s common for their age,” Tomoe turned to Ayame, who was almost finished with the flowers.

The girls were already talking about some trouble only four-year-olds got to fully comprehend when Ayame sighed again. Tomoe could say the woman was years younger than what she apparently was as a result of a tiresome routine. Taking care of kids and family business was a hard task.

 “I know, but it’s hard to run this place and give them my attention. Sometimes I think it wouldn't be enough even if I were slashed in half.”

Tomoe offered a sympathetic countenance, although she didn’t wholly comprehend. As an only child, her interaction with kids was limited to some in Konohagakure whom she did not know past playgrounds, and the ones residing in Tetsu no Kuni. The idea came naturally as she watched Tsubaki and Takada interact in a corner. Ayame handed the tulips—before she could voice their price, Tomoe voiced her idea, not sure of receiving Ayame’s approval. She tried anyway. There wasn’t much she could do.

“I can teach them to knit while you keep the shop open, Ayame-san.”

Almost instantly, the older’s eyes lit up at the prospect of giving her daughters an activity to do. She also felt bad for her kids, but as their father had to aid other kids at the Academy, she was left without many options. However, the sheen eyes turned dim just as fast.

Ayame had the best thoughts about Tomoe—she couldn’t have understood why he married another woman after being so long with Izumi. Even then, she thought Itachi had been fortunate. Mikoto used to buy flowers often, and as a mother, she had no ominous things to say about her son’s wife. 

Tomoe thought Ayame’s silence to be a negative resolve. “If they already learned how to knit… or if they don't like it, there’s no problem. I’m just trying to get into the swing of things here.”

Ayame took notice of Tomoe’s rosy cheeks. “I think they will like it very much, Tomoe-san. I just don't want to cause any trouble. For you or Itachi-kun.”

At that, Tomoe was quick to shake her head. “No! Not really!” Thinking about her husband, she did not really think he would be opposed to kids around the house. He wasn’t as much around himself. “There’s no problem, Ayame-san. Until they get into the Academy, I think this will be a good activity for them to put their energy into. I would be more than happy to watch over them for you.”

Something akin to what Tomoe felt when Mifune announced she would be retreating, Konohagakure took over her heart. A warm feeling—the feeling of being needed. It had been a long time since the last time it swelled in her chest like a crashing wave. Tomoe was simply too soft a person, and Ayame could also testify by herself. As she summoned her daughters back, the twins received the news with great enjoyment. Tsubaki blushed as she voiced her concerns about being around Ita-kun for longer than just seeing him passing by the shop. Takada was more than happy to learn about something before she was off to learn how to become a kunoichi, and further, the first female Hokage.

The pink tulips weren’t charged. It took a lot of time for Ayame, but Tomoe accepted it as a pleasant gesture of gratitude. The girls were still talking about the informal knitting classes they would be taking with Itachi-kun’s wife when she left with a beaming smile on her face.

An icy breeze encompassed her body as she stepped out of the shop. The district still had the calm groove of these hours of the afternoon. Tomoe couldn’t help the comparison between the only three places she had ever been all her life—even in winter, Konoha still had some lively spirit within its narrow streets, reminding its dwellers that spring would soon come around again. It felt like a one-eighty turn on her world’s axis.

Itachi, Sasuke, and a woman Tomoe could not recognize did not go unnoticed by her attentive gaze around the area. Although her presence went unnoticed by their distance, the smile on her face didn’t fade—Itachi had a faint smile on his own, along with his brother and the woman. Tomoe couldn’t fail to realize her husband's stance. Even if Itachi still looked a bit tense to the eye, he looked more relaxed than the times he had been around her.

Tomoe clutched the bouquet to her chest with utmost care. She was worried the flowers would crush in her embrace.  It was clear to her, just as the sun came every day to cast its light upon the world, that the woman was Itachi's lover. The subtle way his hands were moving, as if they were waiting for the right moment to reach for her, was enough proof. Tomoe didn’t know her husband’s perks to the level other couples do—yet, there was something about how even Sasuke acted around that woman. She looked away as a thought crossed her mind. It didn’t hurt, no, but it instantly made her feel like a fish out of the water.

Her parents sent her an eagle way back in May, she recalled. It was written that she should pack her things to go back to Konohagakure. Tomoe trusted her parents blindly, even though the dinner announcement went terribly in a way she wasn’t expecting—from the way Itachi refused to make efforts to get to know her, to her realizing he loved another. She still trusted their decision.

As Tomoe gave her first steps in the opposite direction, she couldn’t help to think about the one question her blinded trust never allowed her to ask.

In the times they were living, choosing who they wanted to spend their life with was a granted right. Itachi had plainly made his choice—so why had it not been granted to him?

Sasuke had been a peevish infant. Whoever held him instead of his brother got the worst of him. Izumi wasn’t an exception back then. That changed over the years, however. He could bear Izumi around because, at some point, she started to be around as often as Shisui. The understanding came in the late years of his childhood—Itachi was in love, as much as he would find himself to be some years later.

So when they were walking through the district and found Izumi in front of her house, his first reaction was to call. His brother said nothing, yet he could feel him tense when she turned around after some seconds. Izumi had a narrowed smile on her face that made Sasuke want to go back in time for a minute. Still, both Itachi and Izumi were too polite to walk away as if they had not realized each other’s presence.

It was Izumi’s mother’s birthday. The wall she took so long to build crumbled right before her feet as Itachi said he remembered it, and that he wished her the best things in life. Sasuke saw it unfold before his eyes—how she had a sincere smile on her face, but sorrowful eyes, just like his brother.

Sasuke didn’t comment on his brother’s wife's presence a few feet away, nor did he turn around in her direction until Izumi was safely inside her house, and Itachi had given three steps ahead before he turned to call for him. Tomoe was already gone.

“Come on, Sasuke. Okaasan should be waiting for us now.”

Chapter Text

“First, you need to decide what you’re going to do. Starting with no idea will make you change your mind a lot and get tired easily.”

The girls looked at Tomoe with big, dark eyes. Tsubaki had her legs crossed whilst Takada had her legs stretched, beneath the kotatsu. They listened attentively. Next to them, a wooden box lay open, full of colorful knitting tools.

“These are the needles,” she took one, and the kids did the same. “They are a little different from the typical needles. It won't hurt you, but you have to be careful while handling it.”

“Why?” Tsubaki asked as she handled it.

“It’s pointy. The yarn is thicker too, so you have to be careful not to do the wrong pattern.” Tomoe took the unfinished nest, twisted the yarn, and then passed it through the newly formed hole. “See? This way. You have to be careful handling it so you don't get muddled midway.”

Takada frowned. “Do we have to memorize it?”

Tomoe smiled and finished the line, ready to start another. “You will get the hang of it, Takada-chan.”

It took some time before they chose what they wanted to knit. Takada was more entertained by the henhouse and snow-covered pond—but followed suit after Tsubaki when she saw the nests Tomoe had made. 

The few snow-free days were gone, so it added one more reason for them to learn the handicraft—to keep loved ones warm. They agreed their mother deserved something to keep her warm in the shop, and their father in the Military Police Office. Tomoe started with sewing knots for a basic scarf. Tsubaki had chosen to knit an orange scarf for their dad so he would be easily found in his job. Takada had chosen green for their mother. Tomoe was happy Itachi had brought threads of almost every single color known and that they would be put to good use. The girls could decide which color they wanted without being limited, and per their enthusiasm, she reckoned it would not take long until they could learn how to mix different colors and patterns. 

Tomoe wasn’t a professional; she knew perhaps a little bit more than the basics, yet she found the time she spent with the children truly enjoyable. They came after lunch hours and were supposed to go back home before dinner. The trio enjoyed their first time together so much that none of them realized the sunlight was not peeking through the shoji anymore. 

Tsubaki’s stomach started to make noises even after the dangos they had, so Tomoe knew it was already time for them to go home. Takada announced with great surprise and a morsel of dismay after she came back from the engawa—the sun had already set, so their lesson was finished. Tomoe felt a little sad but assured the kids their work would be exactly the way they left it when it was time to come back. They heard a sound coming from the genkan—the characteristic sound of a shoji door sliding sideways.

“Itachi-san!”

Her eyebrows rose as she followed the enthusiastic girls running to where they heard the noise—she realized, too, that she had yet to see Uchiha Itachi around kids. He had a younger brother, so it was supposed he was no stranger to children. Yet Tomoe allowed herself to wonder how her husband would behave around little girls.

Itachi found himself stunned as he heard his name in a child’s voice. He watched as one girl he recognized as Takada stopped running and stood at the tataki with her little hands behind her back, being followed by her twin sister Tsubaki. They both swayed from side to side in a childish manner. His wife appeared behind them not long after. The corner of her lips was uplifted in a faint smile, the first one he had seen her show in the months they were married.

He didn’t know what to say because he didn’t expect the kids to be in his house—he had left work earlier. In fact, his father had insisted he had to stop taking shifts every day. To avoid the topic being explored, Itachi had reckoned it was better to go back home earlier, at least for the day. It was around the time Tomoe made dinner, so small talk was unlikely to happen. He had been strict when it came to his wife—he still didn’t know who she was, even if his own father had given him to an arranged marriage. Itachi knew very well he wasn’t keen to let his walls down around her. Or around anyone.

“Itachi-san! Tomoe-san is teaching us to knit!”

Itachi’s eyes found his wife—she simply looked back at him, holding his gaze. “Is she?” He looked back at the twins. His lips morphed into a small smile, too, when they nodded enthusiastically.

“But it’s time to go now,” Takada said after her sister.

“I’m taking them home,” Tomoe said. “Dinner will be ready in no time, Itachi-san. We just got caught up.”

“It’s true! It was so much fun we didn't see the time pass,” Tsubaki said.

Takada suddenly had a thoughtful expression on her face, but she said nothing. Itachi glanced back at his wife again.

“You don't have to be sorry. I can take them home.”

Tomoe’s eyebrows rose. “Well, that would actually be nice. I can make dinner meanwhile.”

The girls didn’t wait for another word to grab each of Itachi’s hands. He had no choice but to smile at them. They reminded him of Sasuke as a kid. Itachi was already a grown man, but would never lie and say he did not miss the times when his brother would be attached to his hip with him.

They bid their farewells in front of him. Tomoe was still standing on the tataki after they left.

He stared at the fridge behind his wife. She held her wooden hashi with her left hand instead of her right. Unlike his mother, she had already taken off the apron she wore to prepare the meal. She was also a silent eater—her hashi didn’t make much noise on the tableware. It was almost as if she wasn't even there. Even then, he wished they were using metallic cutlery instead, just so it would not feel as if there was an elephant in the room they couldn’t address. At least he could focus on the constant sound.

Itachi enjoyed silence. He just never thought he’d be so engulfed by it in such an odd manner. 

“You could have told me about the girls, Tomoe-san.”

Tomoe raised her eyes from her plate for the first time. They were red like arterial blood, unlike her long hair, which had a venous blood shade. Contrary to what Itachi believed it would be, he couldn’t tell what was possibly crossing her mind, even when her attentive gaze didn’t waver from his own. It was hard to tell what would be her next words or her reaction, yet Itachi preferred it over silence. 

Not that he felt as if having Tsubaki and Takada around the house was some kind of nuisance, no. He just wondered why Tomoe didn’t tell him about it. The house was as much hers as it was his; the problem was not about that either.

Tomoe blinked. “You aren't around much, so I couldn't find the time to tell you.” Her words were a statement he could not run counter to. She wasn’t calling him out, poking him, instead just speaking the truth. It didn’t make him any less surprised about her bluntness, though. “Does it bother you?”

Itachi would be offended. If anyone in Konohagakure who had any type of nexus with him had asked, he would take offense. Yet he couldn’t do it with her—she didn’t know him.

“No,” he shook his head. “This is your house, too. You can bring whoever you want. I was just caught off-guard.”

As if she knew anyone around the village to bring whoever she wished for.

“Ah…” Tomoe’s gaze went back to her plate again. “You’re not back before I’m already sleeping, so you caught me off-guard too,” her eyes almost disappeared when she offered him a sympathetic smile. “They will be coming here every day until their Academy acceptance ceremony.”

“Hn.”

He didn’t ask if she enjoyed their company. Well, it was clear she did, and Itachi could imagine it. For the first time, he caught himself thinking about what it must have felt like for his wife to come back to Konoha after years away. She didn’t talk much about those years; it was about as clear to him as a mystery. As he watched her silently enjoying her meal, he reckoned it must be hard for her to not know anyone around the village.

Itachi looked back down at his plate. Her food was good—not the best he had tasted, but it didn’t taste bad either. Recalling the times when he used to dream about when he would be eating Izumi’s meals every day, Itachi lost his appetite suddenly. He excused himself. Tomoe looked at him, simply offering a nod and a smile. Itachi barely looked at her for two seconds before he turned around and left the kitchen—he could still feel her gaze on his back.

How infuriating that she smiled and nodded as if they were truly husband and wife.

Waking up in the middle of the night wasn’t so common for her—it was more odd than falling asleep against a wall.

Tomoe blinked, trying to get accustomed to the darkness. The fusuma didn’t allow much light inside. When her irises adjusted to the dimness, she could comprehend why she woke up. The yutampo was still heating the futon to a comfortable temperature for sleeping. She rubbed her feet against each other and blinked a few times before she moved the blanket away from her body, still feeling the slumberous grasp the slumber got on her mind.

The futon by her side was empty. 

Tomoe got up and silently walked to the living room. Itachi was sleeping on the tatami, among the floor cushions. She noticed he looked peaceful while sleeping, despite not being curled into a ball from the absence of a blanket. He had never slept in the room that was supposed to be shared, and all it did was fuel Tomoe’s queries about why he hadn’t made two bedrooms—it was a debate he never brought up, and neither did she.

In slow gulps of water, Tomoe took her time as she watched the snow once again, wrapping the robe she had around herself in hopes of creating a warmer shield against the lack of heat. She wondered how Itachi slept in such low temperatures without at least bringing something to cover himself—she didn’t know what kind of training he endured. No matter how many years she spent on a land where snowy days were more common than sunny ones, or how he loved to watch it in winter, she still yearned for the spring—the warm days after the cold.

She crossed the room without looking at him, the tatami flooring preventing her from making even the smallest of sounds.

Uchiha Itachi had been training hard all his life, but he had a wife to put a blanket over him in the middle of the night.

His blanket didn’t smell of him, and she wondered if it could perhaps wake him up. Kneeling beside his sleeping figure, Tomoe realized it was the first time she was at such a small distance from him. Illuminated only by the moonlight that cast shadows where the fusuma doors weren’t closed, his face looked the same as when he would be awake—yet so different altogether. His stress lines didn’t give him the intimidating look he had when he was awake, most of the time with his brows creased. They didn’t crease as he slept, at least. Tomoe smiled at the thought of how he always looked like someone had given him bad news. 

Itachi always came off as a calm man, collected to the point of a man who always looked through others, but never being looked through by them. His breathing sounded even, giving him the false perception of calmness within his soul. Tomoe didn’t notice. Her eyes landed on the necklace he wore—a red and white uchiwa hanging sideways on the tatami mat under him. She hadn’t seen Sasuke using something like that. Itachi also had a few strands of his long bangs on his face. Tomoe decided not to move them away. 

His eyelashes seemed longer and darker, too, not fluttering. His lips were a pale shade, just like his skin. 

Itachi looked like a fortress when he was awake, and perhaps that was one of the reasons he refused to sleep in the same bedroom. When he was sleeping, he looked much more vulnerable than a twenty-one-year-old shinobi, as if he were just a twenty-one-year-old man with no battle scars.

But he still had them, no matter how he looked when he was sleeping. He still had a kunai under his pillow or anywhere his hands could reach. 

Tomoe wondered if the time she had taken to look down at him turned uncomfortable even for his unconscious mind, or if it was the sound of her grabbing the blanket to finally put it over him.

Everything happened so fast that her ordinary eyes couldn’t discern the movements.

It was never aimed at her before—the Sharingan. Truthfully, she had never seen one. The three black tomoes spun around obsidian irises as sharks prowled their prey. Their movement was menacing itself, yet the bright, bloody red shade behind them made it look indeed like the weapon the Dojutsu was. The only thing Tomoe registered was the sharp edge of the kunai, a hair’s length away from her jugular.

Perhaps the silence between them as Itachi immobilized Tomoe’s body beneath his own was even sharper than the kunai he held close to her neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he retreated his figure as he lowered his kunai, looking just as frightened as a stray cat. Tomoe raised his upper body slowly, and her mahogany hair fell as she looked at him with big, surprised eyes. Itachi noticed how her eyes could be mistaken for Sharingans in the dim light. “I’m sorry, Tomoe-san, this was not aimed at you.”

Itachi’s fear at the time lay in the possibility of Tomoe thinking he would be that rampant. He had no desire for her to think she was not safer in their house than anywhere else. Their marriage couldn’t have been rooted in love, yet he did not want her to think it was dangerous to cohabit—because it wasn’t. Itachi would rather have his hands chopped off if there was any chance he would lay a hand on a woman, least of all his wife.

Tomoe could still not say much after the fright. “I-I will make you some tea to help you calm down,” she said, kneeling. “What would y–”

“Chamomile.” He had downcast eyes, refusing to meet her own. His answer was more so she could leave than true desire to drink something that could calm him down, yet Itachi couldn’t find it in himself to refuse. The Sharingan was gone. He just wanted to go back to sleep, more to shut down the world than to rest.

Tomoe was out of his sight fast, surprised he had accepted her efforts. Itachi noticed the blanket she was once holding, supposed to be his, yet never used by him. It was some kind of mockery that it was still there, as if directly looking back at him. He did not dare move. Tomoe looked worn out from waking up so late from her sleep. Did he do anything to wake her up? He hoped not. Enough was the kunai he held against her neck.

Water boiled in the teapot. Even if he was not in the kitchen, the sound breaking the silence was still very much audible. Tomoe’s steps were much less distinguished, yet he still heard her going through the kitchen cabinets in search of a teacup. The two utensils landed on the low table next to him when she came back, and he watched silently as she stretched her hand below it, avoiding his eyes.

“They’re still hot from earlier,” she stated, referring to the charcoal beneath the kotatsu. Itachi made a mental note to buy an electric one. The kotatsu in the middle of their living room was a gift Fugaku and Mikoto gave the newlyweds, but it was passed down from Itachi’s grandparents, too old to not cause Tomoe any trouble in heating the charcoal. “I think this is why you weren't feeling cold.”

“Would you prefer an electric one?” He had the decency to ask. His voice was still so much rougher than regular.

She blinked a few times, retreating her hand from beneath the kotatsu. “I think charcoal heats for longer than resistances,” she joined hands on her thighs, the steam coming off the teapot seemed more interesting to her than her husband. “I’m sorry for waking you up, Itachi-san.”

He looked at Tomoe as if she had grown two heads. Did it fly above her head that he had pinned her down with a weapon on her neck, beneath her own roof?

Tomoe knew where his thoughts were leadRomo She ignored Itachi’s slightly flabbergasted expression and poured tea into the teacup, then said, “I think you misunderstood me, Itachi-san. I know you didn't do it on purpose. I wouldn't take it lightly if you ever did. So I’m truly sorry for disturbing your sleep. Do you have any trouble sleeping?”

Her lack of hesitation in stating she would never accept any kind of violence coming from him made Itachi wonder why a part of himself thought that perhaps Tomoe was the kind of housewife that, for some twisted reason, just accepted her ‘fate’. He would never lay a hand on her intentionally; that was guaranteed. So that part of him thought it was the case simply because she wasn’t a kunoichi like Izumi and the majority of the women he knew. 

Uchiha Mikoto wasn’t a kunoichi either. The other half—the more reasonable one—reminded himself of it. That didn’t mean his mother wasn’t strong.

Itachi shook his head. “No,” he took the full teacup in his hands. Then he realized his answer was a lie. There were times when the grotesque images played in his head since he was barely old enough to discern left and right, mostly at night. “…Sometimes.”

Tomoe nodded, letting out an understanding soft hum. “Being a shinobi must be hard. I think we are lucky we’re not at war anymore.”

“I wasn't a shinobi when I first saw the horrors of war,” he said, taking a sip of tea. Warm enough not to burn his tongue.

Tomoe didn't want to ask what age he was when he saw it. Deep down, she knew it would be unacceptable, yet she could do nothing about it. She couldn’t simply not ask.

“How… old were you?”

Itachi’s gaze didn’t waver from her petite figure. He realized she really did look more like a housewife than. No visible scars, no bags under her eyes, no perpetually creased eyebrows. She was the picture-perfect wife, perhaps most of the men he knew would die to get wedded to. Her words were soft-spoken, her voice never above a few decibels.

He wasn’t a liar, and certainly not a blind man. Her beauty was perhaps unnoticed by him since they were never in too close proximity, yet it couldn’t be denied once glimpsed.

The premise made him feel even worse. Admitting a woman other than Izumi was exquisite somehow felt like cheating.

Itachi diverted his gaze. “Four.”

He heard her gasp. It made him look back at her again. Itachi’s age when he first saw someone dying in front of his eyes after having a kunai pointed at him because he just tried to help, as an innocent child, always felt like just a simple fact—something that would happen soon or later with him or any other kid, and then it stopped being bizarre and became ordinary. It became normal for so many years, even if it wasn’t, and Itachi had to be reminded of it, even if deep down, he knew. It was never to be considered normal that Iwagakure shinobi had died because he refused to drink water from a Konohagakure child’s hand.

Tomoe’s reaction was what reminded him he was nothing more than a victim, not a warrior of some kind.

“You were so young…” but she couldn’t say anything more. It should be considered a blessing that she was sent to a non-shinobi country when she was a kid. A blessing children like Itachi didn’t have.

War changes men. She could only imagine what it did to a four-year-old.

Itachi refrained from asking what her memories were of that time. Tomoe didn’t disclose much. She didn’t know what to do, having never been in the presence of men her age in such proximity, having never imagined her husband would be the eerie man she felt so curious about. So she just folded his blanket and got up.

They both realized that being married for almost four months didn’t make them any less strangers living in the same house, at that moment.

Tomoe got back to the bedroom and slid the fusuma doors without telling him she didn’t have memories of the war because she hadn’t seen it. Itachi drank the rest of the tea and started to feel his eyelids weighing down, never revealing that Takada asked him why his wife called him Itachi-san instead of a more affectionate manner.

He couldn’t answer a child. He couldn’t even feel comfortable sharing something so trivial with the woman he was supposed to sleep with every night. 

When his head hit the cushions, he thought of Izumi until he slowly fell back to a peaceful sleep.

Tomoe’s right hand’s fingers stirred in her sleep. She was already dreaming.

Chapter Text

There was a constant dripping sound coming from the farthest corner of the old hideout—the silence allowed the older man to hear it perfectly, despite people who may have thought he might have gone deaf by old age, one of those days.

It didn’t bother him to the point of getting rid of it, nevertheless. The only use of that place was to host reunions when he needed to talk about something that was besetting his thoughts.

One man, he had decided. One certain man was enough to accomplish the mission—if made right, more than this could bring skepticism. The judgment was clear behind his analytical eyes, as the young man’s eyes met his.

He had waited long enough.

“Uchiha Itachi’s wife needs to be eliminated.” 

The young lad didn’t dare to move. The wrinkles on his face levied a thing much heavier than respect. Experience. Years of seeing things that allowed the elderly on the council of all hidden villages to foresee things his youthful eyes couldn’t.

“He has to be the only possible culprit.”

With crossed arms and shoulder blades leaning into the wall of the Military Police Force headquarters, Shisui waited for his best friend to finally be out of his duty, exactly at five pm. He left considerably early, whereas he always got home late. The older counterpart of their friendship never heard a say from his younger friend’s wife, but he still wondered if that ever bothered her—if she felt too cornered to confess.

Shisui had decided to confront his friend long before he had the time to do so. 

His stance didn’t change when Itachi made it past the entrance of the headquarters. The long-haired man knew about the older man's presence before he made it out of the building, but it annoyed him a little that he couldn’t know what it meant just as fast. Shisui didn’t comment on anything when he moved from his position and strolled by Itachi’s side.

“Have you arrived today?” 

“Yes,” Shisui said. “Had to stop by Hokage’s office to give Yondaime-sama the report. Where are you going?”

Itachi wished he could have a more reasonable answer to give.

“To Naka River.”

Shishi scoffed, but not in a mocking way, no. After years of knowing him, Itachi felt slightly apprehensive that he hadn’t figured out what that scoff meant.

“Can I tag along?”

Itachi knew Shisui wasn’t a man to take short roads to get what he wanted, though it had been a long time since the last time they dueled one-to-one, way before Itachi got married and Shisui started to go out on missions more often.

“Sure.”

They didn’t need much time to arrive. The route to the Naka River was considered a pre-duel. Good old times were vivid in their memories when the sound of their sandals landed on the dry earthen ground. 

Itachi didn’t give Shisui time to prepare for his Jutsu and hurled himself to where his friend was, but was left with nothing more than dust around him and a trunk by his feet. Itachi’s three-tomoe Sharingan could vaguely distinguish the substituted body, yet he was fast enough to see the sequence of seals: snake, ram, monkey, boar, horse, and then tiger.

“Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!”

“Our training used to be less violent back then!” Itachi shouted as he swirled enough to be out of the great fireball’s path. 

“What grown-ups would still be being fed baby food after they've grown?!” Shisui shouted back. “Come on, Itachi!”

A storm of kunai and shurikens was followed by a fit of punches thrown in each other’s direction. It was hard to know which one was victorious when both their Sharingans worked relentlessly to read the movements. Fatigue won first when they were thrown in opposite directions by their defense.

Their breaths were heavy, but their bodies felt light. Shisui was the first one to walk up to Itachi. The old trunk where they used to sit after a long training was still lying haphazardly on the ground. Shisui smiled upon seeing it, and if Itachi felt the same nostalgic feeling, he chose not to comment on it.

Both of them knew who had won when Shisui’s body disappeared into a trunk that fell limp on the ground as Itachi took a seat. A kunai above his jugular was the next thing he registered. His Sharingan was already gone, but he could consider it a victory.

“I could feel your mind was not completely here; that’s why you’ve lost,” Shisui remarked as he took a seat beside Itachi. Cold breeze dandled their bodies as he did so. “You remember long ago when I said you could think of me as an older brother, right?” Itachi didn’t answer. Both of them knew what it would be. “Itachi, you can speak to me.”

It felt long, so long since he truly felt like he could speak his mind. Although he could do it with Sasuke, he knew how his brother would’ve felt if he’d been entirely honest once again, and Itachi had no energy to put his feelings into the right words. It felt like he was being forced to verbalize his deepest thoughts when he had no desire to, even if he knew Sasuke wasn’t forcing his words out of him. 

Itachi saw the way his brother looked at the pink-haired kunoichi. He had no desire for him to feel as if it was wrong to feel it when his older brother couldn’t. Even so, it still felt difficult to verbalize everything. Like thorns were crawling up his throat as he spoke.

Itachi let a long sigh go. “She reminds me of everything I have lost.”

It was a cruel thing to say, Itachi knew that. However, the certitude behind those words was heavy; there was no other way he could phrase it, regardless of his wishes. Even if Tomoe never knew, it would still perpetually be a truth Itachi couldn’t shake off.

Shisui sighed, too. His words took a bit longer to come out, though. “I understand,” he said first. “Is this why you barely come home to her?”

Itachi looked at Shisui, not feeling an accusatory tone behind his words. “It doesn't feel like home. Sometimes I still think I will find Sasuke there. She once dozed off on the genkan. I think it was what made me realize there’s no going back.”

“It would feel like home if it were Izumi waiting for you.”

“Because I love her,” Itachi said in a beat.

“And I’m not saying you have to love Tomoe, Itachi. But I’m saying that you could try to be her friend. Think about the things you didn't lose because of her instead.”

“I don't even understand the situation now, as if I’m missing something important. Years ago, my decision had been made before Sasuke intervened. I felt like I knew what I was doing, even though I didn't know the kind of man I was. Now I feel like a four-year-old again.”

Shisui felt his friend’s words; he really did. Like a vicious circle, it all seemed to land in Itachi’s hands no matter what they did.

“Women tend to leave us feeling like that,” the oldest tried to lighten the mood. Itachi displayed a small smile on the corner of his lips for the sake of his friend’s endeavors. 

It was reasonable enough to make him think. The remembrance of his kunai at her neck and her confused red eyes staring at him still lurked in his mind at the most random moments of his days. Itachi knew he would have never pointed a weapon if it were Izumi, because he would be sleeping next to her, and he would recognize her chakra signature everywhere. It was hard with Tomoe not having something about her that he would be able to recognize before his eyes did.

Itachi couldn’t deprive Shisui of this side of the story; instead, he just shoved the words back down his throat. 

“You should consider starting to get home earlier. You have a wife now. She might need you anytime, and you will likely regret not being around.”

The girls had finished the scarves by the end of winter when they gifted their handicrafts to their parents. It was still cold even though the snow was gone, so they could use the pieces for some time before spring came around.

Tomoe didn’t want to dump too much information on four-year-olds, as knitting scarves was a hard task even for her when she was fifteen years old and learning. She remembered the one she gifted Mifune as gratitude for her time back in Tetsu no Kuni. Soon, Tsubaki and Takada would be five before their Academy entrance in April. Beyond that, they received everything with great enthusiasm. It was delightful to watch their big, curious eyes as Tomoe twirled colorful yarns together into one piece.

Shisui visited a few days later when he came back from his mission. The cold had subsided, and the sun shone more. They started to sit by the engawa with a heater next to them, as three new scarves were laid by their sides. Tomoe was knitting the last nest, slowly for them to see. Regardless of her endeavors, Shisui seemed a much more interesting person to Takada as he collected the massive eggs from the hen house.

Tsubaki chose to learn more about knitting, as Tomoe noticed how she was still more invested in handicrafts than her twin sister. Takada was just too excited about their entrance, looking forward to it enough that she took her chance and asked Shisui to train with her. He couldn’t say no. Tomoe smiled as she watched the little girl’s happy squeaks and jumps.

They were twins, yet both of them had unique personalities. It was truly wonderful to watch each of their distinguished perks manifest in little things.

Shisui left with them before the evening came, with renewed vigor.

Earlier than what Itachi used to get home, heavy footsteps were heard from the kitchen. Tomoe placed the plate of dangos on the table. She noticed how one stick always went missing whenever she made the sweet dessert for the twins to enjoy. It was the first thing she learned about Itachi by herself—that he had a sweet tooth.

The steps stopped. If the fact that it was still much earlier than what he used to come back wasn’t enough for Tomoe to smell a rat, then the absence of the sound of those same steps did the job. She left the already-set dinner table and walked to the genkan. The lights on the street cast a shadow, painting three silhouettes on the shoji door. Tomoe slid it to the side, enough to show her body only. Three men she was sure to never have encountered beforehand stared down at her as if she wasn’t the person they wished to see. She wasn’t. Tomoe wasn’t sure what to do. They all wore the same attire in different dark colors, surely with a familiar crest on their backs.

“Is Uchiha Itachi home?” The taller one asked.

Tomoe scanned her eyes over them. 

“No,” she responded simply.

The trio looked at each other as if the answer was also not what they were expecting. 

“Where is he?” Another asked.

“I’m afraid I don't know, Uchiha-san.”

“We will be waiting here, then.”

It would be too rude to let them wait outside. Tomoe had no wish to be looked down on by any Uchiha because she refused to let some of her husband’s clanmates in. She was also not to be the judge of their characters and motivations—they had already crossed the walls that separated their house from the others, so there was no point in keeping them waiting outside. Whether they were there for good or bad news, it was for Itachi to know.

She still felt a little pressed under their watchful gazes.

“Please come in. I can make some miso soup while you wait.”

The men were halfway through the dangos when Itachi made a beeline for the kitchen, hearing a sound he knew for sure didn’t come from Tomoe.

“Itachi-san,” she greeted him. The three men turned their heads to him. “They are here to see you.”

“Itachi. You sure come late for a man with a wife at home.”

Itachi watched as the dangos disappeared from the table. Tomoe watched the scene carefully, reckoning it might’ve been a bad idea to let them in by Itachi’s earnest gaze.

“You can go now, Senju,” one of them turned to Tomoe, referring to her as if she didn’t wear the same crest as them and didn’t belong in their business. As if she had not taken the Uchiha name herself. Her lack of desire to participate didn’t ease the voice that echoed through her head, telling her they were partially right, whatever it might’ve meant.

A name could never grant her the wish to be a part of the place she had long left behind, she marveled. Even if she was a kid, she felt the right to belong there after coming back, fleeing through the gap between her slender fingers like sand.

Yet Tomoe kept there, paralyzed, looking at Itachi with a question behind her eyes. He knew how to read it.

“You can go if you want to, Tomoe.”

It was the first time he called her only by her first name. Tomoe excused herself with a slight bow.

“I’ll be outside if you need me.”

Itachi knew the retort to the men had to come from him. They had all the intentions to disrespect Tomoe, testing his patience for what happened years before, underestimating him as the future head of the Uchiha clan. He said nothing when Tomoe crossed the threshold that led her to the engawa at the back of the house, even if he knew it was cold outside and she wasn’t properly bundled up for the weather.

One of the chickens had a bleeding wing, hiding at the farthest corner as the others circled Tomoe.

“Poor thing,” she reached for the creature, flinching when it flinched from her touch. “It’s okay.” As if those two simple words were enough to calm the white-feathered animal, it let her hands run through its back, closing its eyes slowly. “Seems like every creature in this village will reject me first-hand.”

But then she thought about Ayame and the twins, Mikoto, Shisui, and Sakura. They were never uneasy with her, and Tomoe was sure that if it was not for it, perhaps her comeback would have been worse than having just a few moments where she felt lonely—she would feel lonely all the time.

Tomoe wasn’t sure how much time it had been since she went to the chickens, but her lips were starting to feel limp along with the ends of her body when she heard movements in the kitchen, and then their shadows on the window were gone. She got up with the chicken secured on her chest and walked slowly back inside, not wanting to disturb the animal—or the men. The kitchen was devoid of their presence as Tomoe thought, the only proof that they were there was the empty plates and wares. Letting out a sigh, she could only hope Itachi had eaten something too.

“Now, let’s take care of this wound, shall we?” She looked down at the chicken.

Crossing the kitchen’s threshold to the living room, she heard muffled voices through the closed inner fusuma door of the genkan. Tomoe’s steps teetered, not sure if she stopped because she didn’t want to be noticed even behind closed doors, or because she wanted to eavesdrop. It wouldn't be a half-lie if she admitted to the nosiness.

The steps faltered after hearing too much of a conversation she was not supposed to, when she decided to cross the living room to the bathroom, where the first aid kit was, still holding the chicken to her chest.

“Oi, Itachi, weren't you with Uchiha Izumi? She’s at least a kunoichi. What is this wife of yours capable of doing anyway?”

Tomoe couldn't hear anything more than the deafening silence from Itachi for maybe a minute. She waited a few more seconds for the words that supposedly would come from her husband to secure her dignity towards those men. She marveled at their utterances in that short period. If she were criticized for being useful as a Hokage, for it was a role destined to men, and also for being as useless as a housewife, for she should be something more, then what could she do to not be at the receiving end of criticism, other than simply not being a woman?

Itachi’s words came not long after Tomoe turned her back to the wall separating them and made her way toward the bathroom.

“I am sure you didn't come to my house to talk about my wife when she’s not here to defend herself. One time was more than enough,” he paused to impose his words. They fell silent. “This is her house as well. You don't get to come to a person’s house, eat their food, and talk low about them. Now I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I wish to never hear such things about my wife from now on.”

One of them scoffed. “Oi, oi. Do you think you have to defend her honor just because she’s a Senju? Do you think it’s because of her that we don't do what we want to do?”

“She is a Uchiha now, whether you think you benefit from it or not.” Itachi’s Sharingan shone brightly in the low light of the night. “Leave.”

When all the doors were closed, Itachi sighed deeply and went to where he last heard Tomoe's steps. He couldn’t sense a chakra signature; there was none. Even so, he could sense her presence there, behind the door.

The chicken was sent into a frenzy when his figure popped up on the ajar bathroom door. Itachi stared at it, remembering the chaos he had to go through the last time he touched a feathered animal. His throwback was interrupted when he recalled what he was doing there.

Tomoe carefully put a cedarwood-colored medicine on an angry red path on the chicken’s wing. It didn't flinch when it got used to his presence. Itachi cleared his throat.

“Can we talk?”

Blinking a few times, she wasn’t sure if it was just her mind playing tricks or if Itachi really had initiated the talk.

“About what?”

“Those men were here to discuss the clan’s future.”

Tomoe looked at him. Itachi couldn't discern if something crossed her mind that moment, or what it was. He suspected not even the Sharingan would have been much help.

“Is this what you truly want to talk about, Uchiha-san?”

For some reason, her inquiry irked him, even if it had been quite obvious. 

“I have a lover.”

Perhaps if they loved each other, Tomoe would have dropped the medicine on the ground, and the chicken would have run out with a broken wing. But that wasn’t the case, so she did not react.

It wasn’t even the walk through the Uchiha District with Sasuke and Izumi that got to Tomoe, but the subtle manner he had shown her over and over again; he wasn’t open to anything past polite obligation since the dinner.

She couldn’t tell why it bothered her so much at that moment.

“I know.” Tomoe turned back to the chicken.

“Did Shisui tell you anything?” Itachi knew his friend would never, but his mouth ran faster than his brain.

“He didn't.”

It wasn’t Shisui’s secret to tell anyway—not that it was a secret whatsoever.

“I’ve been a bad husband to you.” It wasn’t a question.

Tomoe wrapped the wing in white gauze, finishing with a maroon tape. She wished to have wrapped the conversation like that feathered wing, knowing so little about him, she didn’t know how to react to his sudden urge to talk about his feelings. Her eyes lingered on the maroon tape for too long.

Did he even truly care?

He did, at least to a certain degree. If not, then that conversation would never have happened. 

“Itachi,” she turned to him and did the same he did earlier, calling him by his first name. Only that time, the animal hoisted to her chest was the sole witness. “We can't control who we love, I believe. I don't know why I married you, but I won't be the one to hold you back from loving Izumi-san. But don't you think it’s kind of cruel to her, too? You’ve been just so cold and distant, I can't even tell why you’re telling me this now.” She was still soft when speaking. “If you love her the way you say you do, why did you agree to marry me instead? I’m not asking for love, but I do ask for some clarity at least. You’re confusing me.”

The question was finally out. Tomoe felt like she could breathe a heavy puff of hair she had been holding since her departure from Tetsu no Kuni.

Itachi gave her space to pass by him and leave for the hen house when she stopped close to him, but said nothing. Tomoe walked past the door, not without leaving her lemony scent behind.

Her words still had the power to leave him petrified in the hallway, their ajar bedroom fusuma door to his back. He tried to rake in his brain a reason why she was not aware of why she had to come back to Konohagakur, of the fact that she accepted him and not the other way around. Itachi had always had sharp intuition. He just lamented that his thoughts were too clogged to notice that the pieces of the puzzle didn’t fit.

“Sometimes I wonder how she feels.”

The woman looked at her husband, and without further ado, held his hand. She knew if she had taken a second too long by any chance, it would be enough for him to let more thoughts get inside his head. If more than twenty years was anything to go by, she could’ve said she knew her husband to the bone—the same way her only daughter was walking in slow steps to know her own.

“Wouldn't it be too late for us to think we have the right know?” Her voice sounded sweet as he remembered it from their more youthful years, even if her words cut like thin paper.

The man thought about it for a moment. Perhaps only twenty years more could be enough for him to think about the past decisions and the latest one. 

“Even so, I wanted to ask her. I wonder why I’ve never had this intrepidity before. I still remember the first time I held her in my arms, crying her lungs out. I never felt so afraid all my life.”

“I think this is precisely what makes us parents, Itama.”

Itama sighed, looking everywhere but at his clever wife. “Do you think he will ever love her?”

“I don't know.” The low light of their shared bedroom illuminated her soft features.

“I think it would help me feel better to know that Uchiha Itachi loves my daughter,” he sighed. “I’m still so very selfish to this day, Minori. Do you ever regret marrying me?”

Minori flashed him a tight smile and squeezed his hand one more time. “No, I don't.”

The man looked at his wife. “So we have to hope it’s true then, that no one on this earth can love like a Uchiha.”

Chapter Text

The next day, they didn’t talk about the conversation. Not on the next afternoon, or night, or all the subsequent days.

Itachi found out he had no idea how to approach Tomoe after what she said, but he also avoided seeing Izumi even by chance like death. As if exposing the way he felt about her to his own wife would put her in the wrong position. It wasn’t Izumi’s fault that he still hung up on the love they shared. Itachi realized, in a silent moment, that if they weren’t fate’s favorites, Tomoe wasn’t as well. In truth, he was more self-absorbed in thoughts about her than before. Tomoe still kept handing him his lunch boxes wrapped in a small cloth, printed with the characteristic red and white uchiwa, independently. Dinner was always ready by the time he came home, every day a bit earlier than the day before—as Shisui suggested. Dangos were always left for him to delight in, and he never got tired of it.

Tomoe’s delicacies were slightly sweeter than the ones from the market.

By the time spring came around, bringing warmer days, Itachi found himself already refusing to see Izumi be the one he said goodbye to before heading to work, and hello when he came home. Like the stages of grief, denial couldn’t last forever. Itachi wasn’t a man to be angered, and he couldn’t go through the bargain. What was done was done.

He started to see acceptance when he witnessed his best friend’s incessant endeavors to make her feel a part of Konohagakure. She had always been a part of it, even away—even if those years were still an incognito to him. Itachi saw the way Tomoe got closer to some clan members, and sometimes he got home to a table full of food, and a house flooded with Rin, Obito, Shisui, Takada, and Tsubaki.

The day the sakura trees bloomed, Obito proposed to Rin at his engawa. They all thought it was just one of his pranks until he started sweating, and Rin started to cry.

“I planned it to be romantic, but… I didn't know what to do! I was terrified…” Obito said.

It was just another day. Itachi had casually joined them in silence, sweeping the floor as curiosity ran through his veins. The twins had also passed their Academy exams, running around the backyard and saying they were going to surpass the three shinobi present there. He enjoyed their presence. It felt like the old days when Naruto and Sakura would show up at his parents’ house to see Sasuke.

Itachi looked at Shisui when he came closer to where he was listening to their conversation.

“Did you know Tomoe is volunteering at the hospital?”

“Hn?” Itachi mumbled. His eyes went to Tomoe sitting beside Obito as he went through the story of how he surpassed Hatake Kakashi and won Nohara Rin’s heart. He could tell she was invested by the way she was leaning in, with both arms stretched by her sides and hands supporting her weight, even if all he could see was her mahogany hair falling down her back like a cascade from where he stood.

“She met Sakura when they both went to visit Sasuke-kun and bring medicine. Your brother’s lover commented that they needed volunteers in the hospital. Tomoe offered to help. That’s how she met Obito and then Rin, when Rin needed medical help.”

Sasuke fell ill a few days before. Itachi knew that since Fugaku commented on it. His father didn’t say anything about Tomoe’s visit to their house, or that she was bothered enough to bring medicine. For a moment, Itachi wondered if Sasuke had shut her down and furrowed with the idea—as an older brother would do if his little brother undertreated someone with good intentions. 

“At the hospital? She’s not a medical-nin.” 

“Your wife knows quite a few things about healing without chakra. She even went to visit Yondaime-sama’s house after aiding Naruto-kun at the hospital after one of his missions. Kushina-san invited her.”

Kushina had told Tomoe that redheads should stick to each other, but the truth is that she was just happy to see her son being aided with such care.

Had it been that long since Itachi and Tomoe last talked that it all happened? Was it odd that Shisui knew more about his wife than himself?

Itachi glanced over at Obito and Rin, not allowing his mind to play tricks anymore, making him believe that it would be him and his own lover sitting at the engawa of his old house, telling Sasuke and his friends about how they fell in love.

Acceptance was the last stage. It didn’t feel like closure, though.

When they were all gone and Tomoe was already tucked into her futon, Itachi resumed his training in his backyard and went to the Naka River. Still in his black pants, he disposed of his red cloak; he could feel the electricity running down his body, training to find a way to keep his body temperature.

The chakra signature he knew like the back of his hand was noticed before the steps, but he didn’t move. They came to an end, but the chakra was still there, like an old fragrance he had not smelled in a long time.

“Even after all these years, it’s still hard to tell what you’re thinking about.”

Her voice sounded sad. Itachi had known her all his life to be capable of telling the difference. Even so, a part of him compared her voice to the voice of the woman who slept beside his futon every day—as a way of torturing him for God knows what. This part he rejected seemed much more rational than the part he decided to listen to, refusing to leave Izumi and pretend they didn’t talk for too long, and that he deeply missed her.

“I’d expect you to know.”

Izumi joined her hands behind her back. Her Anbu attire looked fit on her, as if she was supposed to wear it. She said those words as if it would be enough to prevail upon Itachi that she didn't go there in hopes of finding him. It wasn't. 

“How are things going?”

Both of them knew what Izumi was referring to, but none of them addressed it properly. Saying it out loud would most likely pop their bubble.

“I don't know,” was Itachi’s honest answer. “You don't need to feel bad for not being able to tell.”

A sigh left Izumi’s lips. Disposing of her weapons, mask, and sandals, she sat by a rock on the riverbank without a word. Not too close so she wouldn't trespass on the invisible wall other people built between them, but close enough so he wouldn't look anywhere other than her. 

“Shisui met me near Hokage-sama’s office. He asked me if we hadn't been meeting secretly.”

Not once did Itachi have reasons to feel anything adverse toward Shisui, ever since they were kids. In adulthood, one would think they had been quite like every other boy and fought about something so stupid they had forgotten it in their following training session—they never did. Itachi didn’t understand his friend’s inclination toward his wife, but as he pictured a scenario where Shisui put Izumi against a wall, punishing her for a crime she didn’t commit, he felt it.

A pang in his chest.

“He said it’s because you’ve been away from home.”

His body acted on instinct when he saw Izumi’s tears shining like diamonds under the moonlight. The arms around her body should have been a strange feeling, but it just felt right. He sat by her side on the rock.

Izumi’s hands grabbed Itachi’s naked torso.

“Why aren't you at home?”

Itachi frowned, pained. It felt excruciating to have Izumi in his arms.

“Because you’re not there.”

“But this is wrong…” Her forehead rested on his chest. “And you’re not this kind of man.”

Itachi himself still felt difficulties in knowing what kind of man he was.

“I don't love her.” It sounded like a reassurance.

The man in front of her came off as cold many times, but Izumi knew it wasn’t like that. The boy Izumi had fallen for long before she knew what love represented wasn’t anything but soft. Soft and warm, like his arms around her. A side that one could see only if they really paid attention to his little perks. A side she had accepted and vowed to never let go. She didn't want to, even though she knew he could never be hers again like he once was.

When four onyx eyes found each other, they did not kiss. They didn’t pull on the red string; they desperately tried to hold on. Izumi wondered if there was ever a world where she could be with him. Or at least that she knew why they couldn’t be together.

“So why?” She asked, weak. “It just doesn't mean anything now, whether you love me or don't love her.”

“Izumi,” Itachi distanced himself from her quivering body against his will, but on behalf of his better judgment. “I need to tell you something.”

‘This is secret village information; no one other than us must know this. You have already done enough letting it out to a child, they said. His father had closed his eyes and sighed. Itachi still recalled the words that stuck with him through the years, yet he ignored them for the first time.

As Itachi revealed everything that was kept from her for too long, Izumi realized that no matter how many times she tied the red string around her little finger in any possible reality, it would always escape her hand, whether it landed on another woman’s hands, or on a fate fond of shattering in more ways than one.

Tomoe woke up in the middle of the night again, another weird occurrence. In her soundless sleep, she felt the odd sensation of being watched. Her red eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom, the moonlight casting a shadow over Itachi’s empty futon. Tomoe looked outside the window. The branches of the trees are swinging in the spring wind.

She got up from the futon and walked to the kitchen, finding the living room empty with the cushions spread the same way she remembered them before going to sleep.

She wondered where he was.

Tomoe looked at the backyard from the kitchen window. It was also empty. She poured a cup of water and looked inside the oven. The dangos she left were still left untouched, not lacking in quantity like all the times Itachi found them.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sliding doors. The steps sounded a little heavier as if he wanted to make his presence known. She gulped the water down.

“Hi, honey. Are you still awake?”

Tomoe turned around slowly to look at the man standing on the threshold between the kitchen and the hall. The same obsidian eyes, the same stress marks, the same long ebony hair, the same maroon cloak, the same black pants he wore before he was gone to God knew where.

“Hm… I just woke up.”

He smiled. Tomoe didn’t. “Ah, is that so, honey?” He neared her.

Tomoe’s hand behind her back calmly reached for the knife she used to cut the rice flour packaging from when she made the dangos in the oven, as her eyes gave him a once-over. Everything was the same as his, but not the sound of the affectionate word coming from his mouth. It felt foreign. Tomoe felt her heart race against her ribcage in painful pangs. She didn’t know if it was for the way the word sounded coming from the same voice that belonged to her husband, or because it made her painfully aware the man in front of her wasn’t him. It could never be. 

“I don't know who you are, honey,” she gripped the knife handle behind her back. “But my husband never calls me that.”

“What sad last words.”

The man didn’t wait for her to move more than a few inches before he launched himself into her. Tomoe managed to dodge the attack, hand going to the back of her head on instinct, pulling her long mahogany hair over one shoulder so he wouldn’t grab it.

All the fight became a blur. From the way he launched himself at her again, to the way he blocked her knife attacks and managed to snatch it from her hand, slicing through the flesh of her arm when she managed to hit his face. The clone smiled deviously when she didn’t flinch at the cut, turning her body in a 360 turn to land a kick on his ribs. He grabbed her ankle, twisting it to hear a cracking sound which he did not have time to. Tomoe used her other foot to kick his chest and get free before he could break her bones. He managed to slice the flesh on her left thigh before landing on the ground, but it didn’t stop Tomoe from turning her back to run to the small hall that led to the living room.

First came the sound, then the piercing pain in her calf. Two shurikens buried in flesh. 

The warm blood ran to the front of her right leg as Tomoe fell face-first on the ground with a thud, slitting the downside of her chin. She got up before she could hear the clone getting up as well, ignoring the pain that ripped through her legs. Her body as a whole was still functional, Tomoe kept reminding herself.

She wanted to reach the bedroom. It was hidden just at the bottom of the—

“You’re just making it difficult,” the clone said, slowly catching up to her.

Who was he? What kind of Jutsu gave him the ability to create clones of another person?

“What do you want?” Tomoe stumbled forward. The wound on her left thigh was deep enough to paint the tatami flooring red. Mustering the force to stand on her feet was getting difficult by the minute. “Who are you?”

A kunai flew next to her face. Her cheekbone got slit open just like her chin.

“This doesn't matter,” he grabbed her long hair, pulling the strands until her face was next to his. “You will die here.”

Tomoe acted on instinct, reaching for the kunai sunk into the wall next to them, slicing the strands of mahogany hair on his hands. Once free, she wielded the kunai to throw a punch back, missing the clone that dodged the motion just as fast. 

“When I was informed I had to kill a Senju, I was a little worried.” The clone grabbed Tomoe by the neck, pushing her against the living room wall. “But then I was told it was a Senju with no chakra. Thought it was a lucky strike, it wasn't someone like Tsunade-sama. Now I wish I hadn't underestimated you.”

Tomoe looked into the clone’s obsidian eyes, her own almost closing. No matter how much her red eyes captured the similarities between that mock and Itachi himself, she couldn’t see it. No matter how alike they looked, she could still notice the way their eyebrows differed in their furrowed expression, and that no matter how cold her husband was towards her, she believed not an ounce of evil resided in his bones.

The more he put strength into his grip, the more Tomoe would hold his wrist, desperately trying to breathe. Her nose started to bleed.

Tomoe looked at the ajar shoji door on the genkan. From where the clone was holding her, she could still see it. He kept putting pressure on her neck, yet she refused to pass out, looking at the door.

Tomoe saw it so fast that if she had blinked, she would have missed, falling into oblivion. With the last bit of strength she had in her body, Tomoe got on her toes as she felt a striking pain next to her heart.

A kunai sank on the wall, beside her head, going through the mock clone’s head.

“Mangekyō Sharingan!”

Itachi’s mock clone disappeared into thin air.

Tomoe’s feet felt the weight of her body, not being able to support it anymore. Itachi was by her side, holding her body in less than a second, preventing the metal rod from sinking deeper into her chest.

“Tomoe-san!”

The sound of his voice calmed her. Tomoe knew it was real. She wasn’t in danger anymore. Tomoe looked at him just to have visual proof. The obsidian eyes turned red in a different spiral pattern. Even if different, it unmistakably belonged to her real husband. The stress lines, the ebony long hair. The warmth was slowly lulling her consciousness.

It was him indeed. She was safe.

Tomoe felt tears prickle her waterline. Itachi reached for the shurikens still buried in the flesh of her calf. He looked at the metal rod on her chest. Tomoe said nothing as she felt the pain spreading through both of her legs. Her chest felt like it was on fire.

“Stay awake,” she could register those words as he took her in his arms, fleeing out of the house. “Look at me, don't close your eyes.”

It was the first time Tomoe saw something akin to concern on his face, even if she could not see well. Lit only by the moonlight as he leaped from roof to roof, the cold persona was left somewhere between where he was and where he found her. She felt a tinge of delight, even delirious from the pain.

It was also the first time she felt his touch other than on her hand. Incredibly soft, a stark contrast to what she thought it was like.

Everything went black after what felt like ages trying to stay awake, focusing on his face.

At five in the morning, a crow made it to the bedroom window of Senju Tobirama’s grandson and his wife. The words on the note were clear enough to bring both of them to their feet.

They stormed into Konoha Hospital’s front door just a few minutes later.

“Where is Uchiha Itachi?” The question rang in the air like thunder, the furrow on Itama’s face making him look so much like the Nidaime Hokage himself. 

Nobody dared to withhold the Uchiha’s whereabouts. Itachi himself wasn’t hiding, standing outside the glass wall that kept Tomoe’s lacerated, limp body, circled by medical-nins and Tsunade, away from him.

Chapter Text

The man in front of him scowled when the news concerning Uchiha Tomoe’s state was made known. The young lad had his head hung low, but it didn't mean he had forgotten his mission. He wouldn't stop until it was completed.

“Tch.”

Tomoe didn’t move or so much as flinch when they took the metal rod from her chest. When everything was done and she had patches all over her unconscious body, one of the medical-nins came to Itachi, who was still standing stoically in front of the glass.

“It’s a miracle she’s still alive. She managed to dodge the rod by a few inches; otherwise, it would have slashed her heart.” Itachi saw the way she stood on her toes to look past the doppelganger, to look at him. That was what kept her alive. “She’s fine now, but I don't believe she will wake anytime soon. Her injuries indicate she fought really hard before you arrived. Her calcaneal tendon was ruptured, so she must be tired. Don't worry, we tended to all of her wounds, and we’ll be watching her as she sleeps, Uchiha-san. You can now rest.”

However, how could he rest? 

It was already half past midday, and Itachi hadn’t taken a second too long when blinking. He didn’t intend to, if that meant the moment he closed his eyes, somebody would try to kill Tomoe, then he didn't need to rest. Didn't even need to blink too slowly.

“I’ll handle her parents,” Tsunade said as she exited the room after the rest of the medical-nins.

Itachi could say he was relieved for that part. Itama had stormed through the doors a few hours back, asking where he was if not at home with his daughter at ungodly hours—the one Itachi was supposed to protect. Never in his life had Itachi felt so ashamed to not have a proper answer to a question. 

Minori was thankfully not blinded by rage as her husband and was responsible for not letting things escalate in that inappropriate place. A father would surely be ready to throw hands with a man half his age if that meant he would let out the fright of seeing his only daughter unmoving on a hospital bed, because that man wasn't there for her when he was supposed to. Perhaps Itachi would be capable of doing the same if the roles were reversed. He didn’t blame Itama or Minori for any of that. Itachi couldn’t even think about something similar happening to his brother without getting his blood boiling.

“Itachi-san?”

The sound was familiar, yet Itachi had to turn his head to where it came from to know who it was. His brother's lover, standing a few feet away, watched as he stood unmoving in front of the glass.

“Sakura.”

“Is everything okay? What happened?” She shot her questions, walking to where he stood, understanding immediately when she caught sight of who was lying in the hospital bed. A gasp came from her. “Tomoe-san?!”

Sakura gaped at the bandages and gauze all over. The one most shocking was wrapped around her chest, uncovered by the blanket the hospital provided. Tomoe’s body was paler, a phantasmagoric shade. Her red eyes were hidden beneath heavy lids with dark purple bags under them. Sakura’s green eyes caught sight of what used to be long, reddish-brown colored strands that were reduced to the same length as her own pink hair once was—back when her younger self was courageous enough to cut her own to protect the ones she cared the most. She wondered if the unconscious woman on the other side of the glass did the same, or what led her to that decision. 

The pink-haired girl didn’t question anything more, instead looking at her lover’s older brother's side profile. Sakura had always thought they both looked alike and yet so different. There was a resemblance to Fugaku if one gaped for longer, but Mikoto’s genes were much more noticeable. Itachi, without his stress lines, would look exactly like Sasuke. Her eyes wandered to Tomoe.

Sakura left him to be on his own and started to tend to other patients. When she came back to check on Tomoe as per Tsunade’s orders, Itachi was standing outside the new room she had to be moved to.

Over her long sleeping time, everybody Tomoe had ever had contact with came to visit after they got the news. There were vases with flowers from the Yamanaka flower shop. Tsubaki and Takada threw a tantrum when it was time to go. 

When Itachi closed the door after his mother left, he was left with nothing but the beeping sounds of the machine beside Tomoe’s bed. He realized she was doing well in Konoha. The hand that wasn't holding the doorknob, resting by his side, turned into a fist as Itachi looked at her once again. Tomoe still didn't even flinch, he noticed. He couldn't understand why someone would want to kill her, yet he wrecked his brain trying to think of the smallest things ever since she arrived in Konoha. Even so, there were still missing pieces. Itachi didn't know her before she was his wife. 

Who was she? What about her past, before she came to him?

There were still many questions Itachi had to ask her father and her mother. Ask her.

He settled for resting on the small sofa in the corner of the room. He needed to rest now that Fugaku had put Military Police guards on duty outside Tomoe’s room. It was enough so he could close his eyes and finally deactivate the Sharingan.

Faint yet insistent beeping sounds were nothing compared to the ringing Tomoe heard in her ears as she forced heavy eyelids to flutter. Like a bell’s shrieking ring cutting through silence, disturbing her lethargic mind. Her heart hurt every time it pumped blood, and Tomoe almost wished it could stop beating for once just so she could feel some sort of relief.

Daylight never seemed so bright to her unaccustomed red eyes. Everything was slow. Breathing, blinking, recovering memory. Tomoe didn’t move once she was acquainted with her surroundings, not taking long to realize the thing beneath her body didn’t feel like a futon at all. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but the smell made her nose scrunch slightly. The pointer finger of her right hand was the first to flutter, then her left thumb followed the slight movements.

The first thing Tomoe saw was two figures standing over the large window by the foot of the bed. A man and a woman. They didn't hear anything coming from the bed—the machine connected to her body didn't change its sound pattern, and she was grateful. Her head turned slightly to the right, and with eyes finally adjusted to the scene, Itachi’s body was the next thing she saw. His head tipped to the side, making strands of dark, long hair fall on his face, and even from a distance, his long and dark eyelashes stood out on the sun-kissed background of his skin. One of his arms was resting by his side, the other resting by his thigh. Itachi had the same expression on his face as he had when she planned to cover his body with a blanket. Tomoe noticed there weren't any blankets in the room other than the one covering her body.

Itachi looked tired even sleeping, but it didn't stop Tomoe from thinking he was still quite handsome, even haphazardly sitting and sleeping in a weird position.

The thought made her ears heat, spreading it over her face. Tomoe looked to the other side of the room. Memories were still coming back, and one of them was how she cut the long reddish-brown strands she had taken so long to let grow. Tomoe closed her hands into fists by her side. She didn't have the chance to see her hair, and she wasn't in a hurry, afraid the person who would stare back at her in the mirror would be one she wouldn't recognize.

The monitor by the bed showed the heart rate increasing, and the beeping sounds becoming louder and more frequent. Tomoe couldn't stop the upcoming ring in her ears even if she tried not to, because deep down she knew there was nothing she could’ve done at that moment. It was either her hair or her life. She felt her head lighter when trying to raise it off the pillow, lost strands of hair being missed, but gave up as soon as she realized that just raising her head felt like a burdensome chore. An odd warmth beneath her nape before her head could touch the pillow again made Tomoe look at the opposite side, where Itachi rested soundlessly.

There he stood him awake by the side of her bed and not on the couch anymore, blinking down at her with big eyelashes as he wrinkled his eyebrows like a vexed old man.

“Careful.” His voice was surprisingly soft as he sighed, softer than what Tomoe recalled ever hearing before. As if she’d break if Itachi spoke a few decibels higher.

“Thank you,” Tomoe managed to say. She furrowed at how her voice sounded foreign, wondering how long she hadn't used it.  

“Tomoe!”

Itachi looked at her near parents just as she did. He carefully lowered her head to the pillow again, wondering if there was something Tomoe could wish for. He didn't ask, giving a few steps back to allow enough space for Itama and Minori to talk with their daughter.

“How are you feeling? Do you feel any pain?”

Tomoe shook her head slowly from side to side. Itachi observed in silence, never wavering his eyes.

“I just feel really tired. For how long have I been out?”

“Three days,” Itama answered, flashing Itachi a hard look so fast it could’ve been imperceptible to anyone other than the Dojutsu wielder.

Looking around the room, Tomoe wondered how all the flowers in the vases ended up there. 

“I see.”

Itachi noticed how her eyes wandered the room, to the multi-colored garden they managed to create. He watched as his wife’s eyes got bigger in size as he told her about every visit she got whilst unconscious. Her parents looked down at her, and for some unknown reason, she couldn't look them in the eyes. Confusion etched her mind, and for the duration of the uncomfortable silence that made itself permanent in the room, Tomoe kept fiddling with her fingers, pressing down on the palms of her hands.

“Can you two leave us?” She whispered. She didn't know why she chose to be with her closed-off husband instead of her parents, when in reality, Tomoe wanted to be alone. The truth was that she was afraid. To be alone, and of whatever truth she might get from her parents if the bitter words on the tip of her tongue dipped.

“Tomoe…” Her father tried. Her mother kept silent.

“Please. I want to be with my husband.” It was the first time Tomoe ever referred to Itachi as her husband in front of him.

“We’ll talk to Tsunade and ask her to come to you, then.”

They left, yet the uncomfortable silence stayed. Itachi waited for his wife’s disapproving words—anything that would come from her to make him regret the decision that led him to the Naka River three days prior. He waited for her words of disgust, even if he didn't tell her who he was with, even if he didn't—and blatantly refused to—offer her the undying love of a husband. Yet she said nothing. Itachi took his time, closer to what could’ve been her deathbed, taking in the marks the events of that night left behind. The medical team had priorities other than the lacerations on her face, keeping her alive while retrieving that rod from her chest, and being on top of everything. Tomoe’s right eye was still a deep purple shade, and her left eyebrow was split. Her hair, once so long that it would flow like she was dancing when she was just really walking, was haphazardly cut shorter than Sakura’s pink hair, yet a few strands remained long from the unintentional kunai cut. The gauze had already been considered useless by Tsunade, who made sure Tomoe’s bigger wounds were tended to so she could rest for as long as her body needed. But it didn't make her look any less broken than she was.

Itachi frowned without noticing. He saw silent tears running down her cheeks until they reached the cliff of her chin, and fell. The Sharingan was activated before he could control it. Yet it was in vain. He couldn't see her chakra flow. There was nothing. It was like he was simply blind.

Tomoe looked at Itachi then, and she knew as her eyes descended from his hairline to his creased eyebrows, to his red eyes, then his stress marks. She knew why she felt chained, even if her life depended on it, and that she knew it wasn't him.

The mock clone looked exactly like him, and that’s why she felt like the years of training in Tetsu no Kuni served her nothing every time she tried to strike back.

“Sorry. I don't know why I am crying.”

Another thing that felt too foreign. Even if Tomoe took his name, perhaps crying was reserved only for friends and family, two things which they weren't. Not really.

“You went through too much. Being afraid is normal.” Tomoe looked at Itachi, and he looked back at her, still frowning. When she watched his Sharingan deactivate as if even that powerful Dojutsu could do nothing to help, Tomoe started to sob. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

His frown deepened. “There are a lot of things I don't know. But I know if I were there, then you wouldn't be here. I failed to protect you because I was more of a child than a man.”

“Where… were you?”

“At Naka River. I was alone, but then Izumi-san came. I stayed there instead of coming back.”

Itachi couldn't come up with a lie. He wouldn't ever do that, even if the truth was uneasy even for him. When being with Izumi ever became uncomfortable, instead of a sweet escape was a mystery.

“I see.”

The truth that Tomoe tried to ignore rang in her ears like incessant punches of closed fists in wooden walls, and pain etched its way into her face. Ever since last September, Tomoe numbed the feeling of pure guilt for being the one to come between Itachi and his lover. She made herself believe that she had no choice, and then, in that hospital room, he reminded her that she had the choice to say no. She had it in the palms of her hands when Mifune told her she could stay for as long as she wanted, even if her heart seared to come back to Konoha—to live the life she was deprived of for so many years. She had the chance to not be so blinded by trust and see things for herself, choose for herself, and yet she made her way forcefully between Uchiha Itachi and the woman he truly loved.

Tomoe made up a scenario where her lover was taken away from her, to rest in another woman’s arms and drink from her warmth. She felt her heart decrease in size as the feeling of dried tears on the skin of her cheeks brought her back to the room where Itachi still stood beside the bed. She couldn't picture it for too long, wondering what Izumi must’ve felt when she saw him walk away, or if she ever did know why. Tomoe didn't know the reasons herself. She wanted to ask, but didn't know how. Didn't know if she could.

“Tomoe-san,” he called back her red eyes for him. “I promise I’ll be the husband I’m supposed to be, and never stay too far from you when you can't defend yourself, but I need to know about—”

“I can defend myself.”

I just couldn't, she thought, but never said. Tomoe knew why she felt a greater pain with every attack on his mock clone. Even if it wasn't real, and it wasn't him, the real Uchiha Itachi was her husband, and her body seemed to loathe the idea of hurting a part of her family. Whether either of them had a say in it or not, that’s what they were. And she couldn't do much other than poorly defend herself from death if death had the same lines of the face of the man she shared a house and a name with, the real Itachi.

Tomoe knew it right away when it all came down on her the moment she looked into his eyes again.

Itachi was taken aback by her sentence.

“I don't doubt it. The medical team said you’d be out for some time. The lacerations in your body,” he gazed at the lacerations over her face once again, “indicate that you put up a fight for some time before I arrived.”

They both knew what it indicated. It felt like they were dancing around a vault that held a well-kept secret that wasn't supposed to be a secret at all, not between husband and wife.

They were married for months, and yet it had only dawned upon them how little they truly knew each other.

“I was trying to reach for my katana.”

There were seconds of silence before Itachi spoke. “A katana?”

“Yes. It’s made of special steel.” Tomoe sat on the bed without much effort. Even so, Itachi held a hand in case she needed something to regain valence if she ever lost it. “I guess nobody here knows where I have been all this time.”

“I don't know much about you myself.”

Tomoe nodded, “It’s understandable. I was sent to Tetsu no Kuni after the war broke out. At the time, I was confused as to why my parents wanted me gone. I was around fifteen when I realized they fought in the war, and since I had no chakra, they couldn't keep me safe and fight against Iwagakure at the same time. Most of the parents in Konoha and Iwa couldn't do the same…”

Itachi thought back to when Fugaku brought him to the battlefield—the day he questioned what life was about if it ended like that.

It was well-known that Tetsu no Kuni, as well as Mifune, their leader, didn't get involved in the shinobi world, and therefore, the war between the hidden villages wasn't of their concern.

“I didn't spend my life there as if I weren't a part of the shinobi world. Even if I can't use Ninjutsu or Genjutsu, I trained my Taijutsu well enough.” Itachi nodded slightly as she went. “Mifune-san made me train with the Samurai.”

So that’s why she managed to survive the attack, Itachi realized. He was relieved to know.

Tomoe saw it flash so fast that she thought it was her clogged brain playing tricks—the corners of Itachi’s lips twitched into a tiny smirk. She blinked, and it was gone.

Before their talk could continue, however, three knocks on the door were heard. Tsunade opened the door, followed by Itsma and Minori as she entered the room. Tomoe glanced at Itachi’s hard profile since he was already looking at them. 

“How are you feeling?” Tsunade asked.

Tomoe stopped to feel her limbs for the first time since she woke up. Her chest felt heavy, and the rest of her body felt a little sore. She felt the small lacerations on her face, too. Other than that, she felt fine. She also felt as if a burden had been lifted off her shoulders, but it had everything to do with the little progress she and Itachi had made.

“Fine, Tsunade-sama. I just want to rest at home.”

The blonde looked at Tomoe’s parents.

“First, we need to understand what happened, Tomoe. If this were an attack from another village, Yondaime Hokage needs to be informed right away.”

“But why would another village attack me?”

“You’re a Senju,” Itama said, then looked at Itachi. “And also a Uchiha now. We can't possibly know the intentions of outsiders.”

“But if it was an outsider, wouldn't Hokage-sama know about the presence of other shinobi?”

Everyone in the room fell silent at the valid question. Itachi looked at Tomoe.

“He would,” her husband assured. “It was not an outsider.”

Yet who in Konoha would dare to try to kill Tomoe, of all people? She had both the Senju and Uchiha clans vowing to protect her. If it were a Konohagakure shinobi, then Itachi would surely know about one with a great ability like the one displayed before his own Mangekyō Sharingan, whether from the Bingo Book or from his years as an ANBU. He was sure he hadn't seen or heard about it. It was a shock even for him when he saw what could’ve been disguised as him strangling Tomoe to near death.

The worst part of all was that he couldn't sense another chakra signature nearby, and not even the Mangekyō could see it anywhere near the house. At least not chakra signatures he wasn't acquainted with.

“I couldn't sense an unfamiliar chakra signature near the house either.”

Tsunade nodded, thoughtful. “So let’s assume this is their Jutsu. Suppressing chakra is really hard. Making a perfect mock clone of another person requires a lot of chakra—I haven't heard of a shinobi with this ability in other villages.”

“So it’s better if Tomoe stays with us, at the Senju District.”

“I know I failed, Itama-san,” Itachi stepped up before any of them, including Tomoe herself, could say anything. “But I will ask Hokage-sama to assign an ANBU shinobi to guard Tomoe wherever she is. The leader of the Uchiha Clan will also assign Military Police shinobi to guard the house.”

“Even your Sharingan couldn't find the intruder, Uchiha Itachi. Do you think this will be enough to protect her?”

It wasn't a question out of defiance. Itama had no worries other than his only daughter’s safety, and Itachi could see that.

“If this is not enough, then my life will be on the line before anything happens to her again.”

Minori had many things she wanted to say, albeit being the only one present who didn't utter a word. The woman looked at her daughter intently, observing the same look on her daughter's face that made its way on her own, many years before, when Itama swore on his life he’d protect her. She looked at Itachi and didn't miss the way his eyes flickered to Tomoe for a brief second before they landed on Tsunade again.

“And I swear I will find who did it.”

Chapter Text

Whoever it was, they owned a great power.

Minori was left in the hospital to tend to Tomoe on her discharge, as Itama went to the Yondaime and Itachi went to the Military Police headquarters, seeking Fugaku. No matter how he ran through his memory of his time as an ANBU captain, with access to all kinds of data, Itachi couldn't remember ever crossing over information about a ninja with a chakra suppression jutsu like that or even a Kage Bunshin as powerful as Uzumaki Naruto’s own Tajuu Kage Bunshin. 

The ninja wasn't in the bingo book; this was the only certainty he had about the situation. It would be too easy if they were. So they had to be under the protection of someone as powerful as the Hokage himself.

Itachi arrived at the headquarters not long after he left the hospital. Fugaku was already waiting for his son, with the same crossed arms and unwavering expression. Itachi remembered him ever since he was a child. But he knew his father did care, even if his stance said otherwise—everything concerning the Uchiha clan or Konoha always managed to strike a nerve in the man’s usual stoicism. Having an unknown ninja attacking the future clan head’s wife meant they were, again, under constant observation.

“How is she?” Fugaku managed to ask.

“As fine as she can be, after getting a rod to her heart.”

“Mikoto offered to help manage things in the house for as long as you both need.”

Itachi nodded. “I think Minori-san will also offer this to Tomoe-san, though I don't know how things will be now. I have failed as a husband. Her parents don't trust me.”

Fugaku’s usually hard eyes closed before he sighed, fingertips massaging the wrinkles he got from stressing over time. Itachi knew it was just another way his father had to show that he worried oftentimes, for both him and Sasuke. If he were the same as a couple of years before, perhaps he would ask Itachi if he trusted the Senju clan as well. But he had changed for good. 

“You’ve done enough. If Yondaime-sama didn't know, and your Mangekyō didn't find them, there was not much that could be done.” Although Itachi stoutly disagreed, he kept silent. “I will assign Sasuke to guard the house with other men of my liking.”

“Sasuke?”

“He’s going to join us around a week from now. I thought you knew.”

“I didn't.” Too self-absorbed in his problems, Itachi had forgotten to ask Sasuke about his desire to join the Military Police further. “It’s good then. He won't be away from Konoha for too long.”

Every time Sasuke had to go on long missions away from home, Itachi always felt a kind of uneasiness he couldn't shake away until he crossed the demarcations of the Uchiha District alive and well.

“He’s not officially in the Military Police yet, but he will be guarding the house for tonight, along with the ANBU ninja Yondaime-sama designated.”

“I assume someone is taking his place on Kakashi’s team.”

Fugaku blinked slowly and hummed. “A young ninja called Sai. He’s a former ANBU.”

That piqued Itachi’s interest. “A former ANBU?”

“Talk to Sasuke about it when you can. Are you suspicious of anything?” Fugaku knew his son enough not to let it slip.

Itachi had always been a wary man, seeing things way before they happened—even if things didn't always happen the way he planned to, he always took a wild guess, sniffing suspiciously like a dog. The ANBU knew too much, perhaps even more than the Hokage sometimes. He had been there for years. It wasn't as if Sai’s name rang a bell, yet he knew he wouldn't rest before he was sure he had investigated all the alternatives that led him to the culprit.

A gut feeling told him they were being played just as pawns on a shogi board.

Shisui was in the hen house when Itachi guided Tomoe to the engawa, despite the assurances that she was fine. He reached the hospital just in time for Minori to go check how things were going with the Yondaime, alongside Itama.

“Are the chickens fine?”

“Shisui takes care of them more properly than I do,” Itachi looked at Tomoe, who was still looking at his friend exiting the hen house. “But he told me they didn't lay eggs these past days. And the rooster looked sad.”

She frowned. “How can a rooster look sad?”

“I have no idea. I just go with anything he tells me.”

Tomoe laughed and looked at Itachi, who just plainly glared back at her. The remaining small smile died too soon on her lips. Swerving her eyes to Shisui, who was approaching, was the resolution she found to not blush more than she already was. His gaze was excruciating, too intense to be held for too long. The truth is that she felt much more fragilized and much less confident, as if not only her body but her spirit had been broken and stepped on by the mock clone. Yet the corner of his lips raised slightly. Tomoe cleared her throat.

“Tomoe-san,” Shisui wasn't smiling as he always was when around the house. He showed his concern in the form of deeply creased eyebrows, trying not to take notice of every mid-fresh scar scattered through Tomoe’s face. He briefly looked at Itachi, who already stared at him with a look he knew all too well. “I’m glad you’re back well and safe.”

“Me too,” Tomoe flushed him a shy rise to the corner of her lips. “Thank you for taking care of the chickens, Shisui-san. I will be making you a—”

“You don't have to do anything, Tomoe-san. Worry just about your recovery.”

“I’m already doing well. Tsunade-sama is Shodai-sama’s granddaughter, after all. All my serious wounds are healed, and the smaller ones will be healed in no time.”

As if the rest of her body knew what her mouth was talking about, Tomoe felt a striking pain irradiating from her chest to the very ends of her limbs, forcing her to crumble under the weight of her body her feet couldn't support. Her knees buckled, and a frail whimper left his lips before she was caught in time to crash against the wood of the engawa.

“Tomoe-san!” Shisui and Itachi shouted in unison.

Tomoe saw black dots in her peripheral vision. It was as if her brain was functioning, but the body refused to comply, making her run around her head in a wishful, tentative way to understand what was going on. Slowly but surely, Tomoe regained her balance—both her husband's and his friend’s firm grip on her arms helped with this part.

“What was it?” Itachi asked. Sharingan activated.

“Huh?” Tomoe slurred. Her tongue felt heavy. The pain struck like a bat straight to the head.

“You’re blacking out!” Itachi looked down at her. She could only see his lips moving instead of hearing a sound.

The last thing Tomoe remembered once she woke up again was the feeling of numbness as she started to lose her consciousness.

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, perhaps one or two, until Tomoe regained her senses. Pain in the chest was gone as if it hadn't knocked her out. The feeling of breathing underwater washed over her the second she opened her red eyes to stare at the ceiling. Tomoe felt the warmth enveloping her body and welcomed it, almost closing her eyes again if not for the stress marks and tired eyes staring down at her.

“You fainted,” Itachi said before she could ask.

The lukewarm spring breeze rushed through the open shoji and fusuma doors of the house. It made Tomoe realize the warmth came from Itachi’s body close to hers, holding her upper body in his arms on the ground. Itachi watched as rosy hues flushed up her cheeks and the point of her nose, blinking as she tried to untangle from his embrace.

Whether his arms offered a warmth she missed once she detached, his eyes did not.

“What happened?”

“I don't know. You just blacked out. How are you feeling?”

“It was nothing serious. I just felt a pain in my chest.”

Shisui’s presence in the corner wasn't noticed until he made himself known by speaking.

“Tsunade-sama must know about it.”

“There’s no need to alarm anyone,” Tomoe managed to flash them a half-smile. “I’m fine. Really.”

“You fainted,” Shisui insisted.

“I’m telling Tsunade either way.”

Whether Itachi’s words weren't meant to sound harsh, and they didn't, Tomoe couldn't sense any kind of warmth coming from his eyes as he spoke. She felt like a child being scolded for expressing her wishes, not even being taken into consideration.

“You don't need to, Itachi-san. I don't want my parents or anyone else worried about frivolity. I really don't want to be a burden.”

At that, Itachi frowned. “Frivolity? You took a strike to the heart that almost killed you, and you just fainted. The things are bad as they are, please don't make it worse.”

His words weren't loaded with malice in depth, and Tomoe knew that, but his baritone made it difficult to make it seem they came from a place of concern. She flinched and scowled, wanting to express how badly she had received them.

Shisui was out of the house as soon as the air shifted, and he got the inkling of a discussion between the two—he had no desire to intrude on something so personal between husband and wife. Sasuke arrived at the house just in time to see Shisui’s tense posture, knowing it wasn't the best time to approach his brother.

Inside the house, Itachi instantly regretted the way he voiced the words as Tomoe looked away.

“I didn't—” he closed his eyes and sighed, interrupting his train of thought. He, too, thought they were making great advances in the direction of a more amicable relationship, so he didn't understand why the ground felt so rocky beneath their feet once they were back. He thought about the hospital and the way he left things implied when he said he had been with Izumi at the Naka River.

Did she seem closed off after opening up a little about her past because of it? Was she thinking he was doing things he wasn't supposed to do as a married man, whilst she fought for her life?

Tomoe almost scoffed—she wanted to. She regained all the wittiness she lost momentarily after the attack.

“I am not a child.”

Itachi deflated. “No. You are not,” He looked her in the eyes. Tomoe felt like looking anywhere but at him, yet she held his gaze even in intensity. “I didn't mean it the way it sounded.”

Tomoe had been noticing for some time that Itachi did a lot of things without any apparent meaning behind them. Despite having enough time, she couldn't understand why he was such an enigmatic man. Finally, she managed to calm her nerves and meet his eyes again. She felt like she had let go of all the possible grudges she might have held against him, but it only left her feeling hopeless. She realized that holding onto these grudges would not lead to any resolution. So, she was left wondering what she should do next. Brawling was simply to no avail.

Itachi had a sudden thought about rephrasing his words from that day, but was beaten on it by Tomoe’s words.

“You were right. I’m afraid. I don't understand why someone would want me dead. I had no enemies. Nobody other than Sandaime-sama and the Senju knew I was in Tetsu no Kuni.”

And I don't want to admit I failed years of training because I couldn't look in the eyes of that mock clone thinking it was you, even if my body knew it wasn't, my eyes tricked me, and I weakened. She didn't say those words.

“Even if you weren't born a Uchiha, you are one now,” Itachi sighed. “This is a possibility.”

“Because I’m Uchiha Tomoe now? It doesn't make any sense. I told you I have no chakra. I don't have a kekkei genkai like Shodai Hokage, nor can I create jutsus like my great-grandfather.”

“I have my suspicions,” Tomoe darted at him after the statement. “But I can't tell you now. I’m not sure of anything. You just have to recover. Leave the rest to me.”

The reassurance was enough to make Tomoe nod and not ask any more questions. The dark pity of his eyes stared down at her, reminding her of an endless ocean—dark and deep to no measure.

Strangely enough, the same chest that felt pain moments prior felt the organ beating inside its cage skip a beat.

“I need to check if my katana is still where I left it…” She got up on her feet. It was just an excuse to flee out of the room since the pang in her chest that resonated on her ribcage startled her, right after the skipping.

“Nobody came aside Shisui, it’s likely where you left it.” Itachi also got up. “Where do you keep it?”

Tomoe joined her hands behind her back.

“At the bottom of the oshiire, beneath the sparing futons.”

They both recalled the unfinished conversation they had at the hospital before Tsunade came with Itama and Minori. It had to wait for another time as Itachi had things to ask Sasuke, and he felt Minori’s chakra signature approaching.

Chapter Text

“Have you ever thought about the possibility of our destiny being entwined only for a short time?”

“I don't know much about him, only that his name is Sai.”

A long sigh is heard between them. The younger brother had seen the older stressed before, more times than one can count. This time around, it felt recognizable.

“Tousan said he was a former ANBU.”

Sasuke nodded, still oblivious to where his brother intended to lead the conversation.

“That’s pretty much everything I know other than his name.”

The silence surrounding the pair was disturbed only by the sound of nature. Itachi found tranquility in hearing the sound of flowing water—it kept him grounded and reminded him that just like a river, life would always find a way to keep flowing. The trees still stood there, tall and unwavering, way before the first Hokage and Konoha even existed. Itachi supposed that was the type of man he ought to be. Naka River was the most suitable spot he could’ve chosen to discuss things with Sasuke without the risk of being overheard by villagers who were too oblivious to understand what was happening, or by Tomoe.

Sasuke’s eyebrows lifted when he realized where Itachi’s reasoning was going.

“You think—”

“I do,” Itachi cut in. “This is precisely why I’m asking about Sai.”

“But he is a former.”

“As far as we know. I don't think things have changed much since then. To be honest, even since Shisui lost his eye, I don't think it has changed at all.”

Itachi knew it was hard for Shisui to hide things from him—he never did. By that time, he knew his friend would think he had suspected his reasons for being so close to Tomoe whenever he could. He supposed he should do the same.

“So what are you gonna do now?”

“I need to stay by her side. Shisui will be there too, even if I tell him there’s no need.” Itachi’s eyes fell heavily on Sasuke, but the youngest had mastered the art of bearing it, not being fazed as he once was. “Don’t tell Sakura or Naruto about this. I will talk to Sai myself.”

Sasuke nodded, even if he didn't know how his brother would come up with anything to talk to Sai alone—he trusted him. They headed to Itachi’s house.

It had already been a year since Tomoe received a letter with the name Senju Itama engraved on it.

Her mother had been around more after the week of the attack, partially because she deemed she had given enough time for the newlyweds to get accustomed to the new life, but mostly because she missed her daughter. It was nice having Mikoto around, too, for as much as she could. Tomoe enjoyed their company, but she couldn't deny she missed Takada and Tsubaki dearly, despite being happy for their excitement with the Academy. Their lessons were short-lived, and they bonded just as fast. Those little girls had played a huge part in making Tomoe feel less like an outsider.

Mother and daughter went on long walks through Konoha, never getting close to the Naka River. Tomoe felt it was the only place in the village she wouldn't be comfortable visiting—as if going there was the same as barging into Itachi’s personal space, encroaching on his feelings, lingering without permission.

So she didn't.

She and Itachi had also fallen into a comfortable rhythm. When the sun had held on to the blue skies for a little longer and went to show the stars, they’d share a meal, and Tomoe would tell him of her past. Most nights, he was quiet, and Tomoe never knew what was going on in his mind whenever she told him she used to train several hours a day, and sometimes even at night. On other nights, he would offer a crack on his stoicism to where she could glimpse morsels of his personality with more translucency, talking more about the life she left behind in the land where it always snows.

And before she could tell, the sakura trees had bloomed into their full bloom; they were good in terms of coexistence for Tomoe to let a thought intrude in her mind in the middle of another night, staring at an empty futon beside her own.

Could it be possible for Uchiha Itachi to fall out of love with Izumi?

It was a thought she regretted. Tomoe tossed and turned, part of her refusing to welcome this thought—and another part feeding it like a weed she knew she had to get rid of.

This thought was the third force that pulled her mind from the state of inertia it had been for twenty whole years. Alone, it would be shoved to the back of her mind, and Tomoe would master the art of pretending it didn't ever cross there. But in that third force stood Izumi herself, and the way her long hair ricocheted along with the hem of her purple dress made Itachi steal furtive glances at her. She was beautiful. Tomoe could understand him, even if, for the first time, she allowed herself to accept that it also wounded her to do so.

She had imagined Izumi would be there—the Uchiha District was. Including the twins, excitedly telling her all about their time at the Academy, and Ayame, smiling and sharing how much she missed her daughters when they were off to become great kunoichis. Tomoe also had the opportunity to meet Ayame’s husband, who congratulated her and Itachi on their marriage, apologizing for his late wishes. Tomoe smiled politely. Itachi depicted a smile of his own and nodded. To anyone looking, it looked like the pair was genuinely happy about the decision to get married.

Rin was the most beautiful bride Tomoe had ever seen, and the only bride she had ever seen was herself. The shiromuku contrasted with the purple marks on her face and the cedar-brown of her eyes. Her medium-length hair, the same color as her eyes, was secured in an updo—her youthful face on full display, accentuated by the lenient layer of makeup. The lips that drew themselves up to a grin never faltered as her eyes didn't veer from Obito, who didn't care about anything other than the woman, for a single second.

The scene unfolding as cherry petals flew, carried by the wind, made Tomoe think back to her own wedding day. There weren't as many guests. Itachi wore the same dark blue montsuki haori with the Uchiha clan crest embroidered on it, just as Obito’s, but not the same smile as the latter. Tomoe’s wedding clothes were much less formal than Rin’s, something that was decided too fast and undoubtedly with much less enthusiasm in the months she had been in the Seju District before she was wedded. There wasn't a reason to dress up if nobody would be there to watch.

Tomoe hadn’t smiled as Rin, either.

“Are you crying?”

Tomoe blinked as if she had awakened from a long daydream, only then realizing the moisture in her eyes, deluging her waterline. She blinked, refusing to meet her husband’s attentive dark eyes as she tried to dry unshed tears away.

“It’s just that I have never attended one before.”

He knew it wasn't the true intention of her words—she didn't even look at him as she spoke freely, forgetting about her own wedding day, as she hadn't attended it as a bride. It was probably because the whole ordeal had been far from what she thought it would throughout her girlhood days. Yet Itachi took the bitter undertone they carried, even if it wasn't what she meant, and swallowed it like the driest drink. 

The way that Tomoe didn't even think of their wedding made him question why a part of him subconsciously flinched. She felt his heavy gaze on the side of her face, and when her eyes found his, neither of them looked away. A subtle conversation they had never had before; perhaps also the only one they truly had all along.

Tomoe’s eyes started to water again as she looked away, back to the newlywed ahead of the crowd, cheering as the Yondaime Hokage declared them finally wedded before the Uchiha District, Rin’s family, and Konoha. Itachi leaned closer to where Tomoe stood, where she felt his warmth emanate to make the warm spring breeze feel like it was cold compared to the ooze of his own. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to be able to read a chakra signature.

Uchiha Obito had the most gorgeous, handcrafted ring he could find to give the woman, who, from that moment on, would be recognized as Uchiha Rin. They both smiled through tears. Tomoe mimicked their actions. Obito and Rin got swarmed as soon as the Hokage distanced himself to find his family, and Tomoe tried not to feel too overwhelmed by her senses and feelings. She didn't realize she had taken a step back to be able to let people pass by her so she could breathe.

She didn't intend to, yet her eyes ran through the venue until they found Izumi on the farthest side. Izumi wasn't aware of the glances she was receiving, and Tomoe made sure to look away before she realized. Tomoe took another step back, then another, only realizing it was her own doing when Itachi suddenly grabbed her hand. She looked at him, only met with a deep frown.

“Where are you going?” He didn't let go of her hand until she offered him a reasonable answer, worry placed between his eyebrows.

“Going to take a walk.” When he still didn't let go, she added: “I won't be too far.”

“Are you feeling unwell? I can go with you. I dismissed the assigned ANBU today. There’s no one to watch over you.”

“I am fine. You’re here. Sasuke-kun and Shisui-san, too, and this place is full of Uchihas. I’m not leaving the venue, and I’m sure whoever it is won't do anything here.”

As soon as Tomoe presented the resolution, Itachi let go of her hand. Her fingers twitched by her side, not really sure if the rest of the Uchihas would ever go to such lengths just to protect her, an outsider.

Itachi was surprised by her lack of trepidation—her life was on the line, and yet she acted like it was nothing. The act was enough for him to debunk the picture of an afraid and defenseless woman he had of her in his head. He knew now that she could defend herself, yet he didn't know how far she went into taijutsu training in Tetsu no Kuni. He didn't know if she could hold on for longer than she did if another attempt was made.

“Don’t go too far,” Itachi gave in. “I might not have the chance to reach you in time now.”

It would be a lot easier if she had something for him to know where she was, since he couldn't sense a chakra signature coming from her. With this thought in mind, Itachi undid his necklace clasp. Tomoe stood in silence as he wrapped the iron handiwork around her neck, clasping it back securely—instead of simply handing it to her.

They were husband and wife in the end. Itachi could wrap his necklace around her neck without worrying about who would be watching. A rarity occurred as not even Izumi crossed his mind—but instead, all of the Uchiha clan status before Konoha if he failed again in protecting the only person responsible for giving them another chance against the councilors. 

“Take this,” he said as two arms went back to his sides. “I infused my chakra in it so I can be able to know where you are if I can't see you.” Tomoe didn't need to look down to know it didn't match her dress. She had seen it in Itachi’s neck many times to memorize it. “I’ll be around, just stay close. Don't take this necklace off.”

It wasn't a command. More of a request than anything else. So Tomoe just nodded before turning her back around and walking to where her feet led her body. And so her mind went on too, fastening its steps until it was already too far gone in thought for her to realize she was not alone at the farthest corner of the venue.

“Tomoe-san?”

Tomoe felt her heart pulsate with shock as she met sky-blue eyes and sunny-blonde hair. She smiled and nodded.

“Naruto-kun.”

Naruto let out a puff of air through his mouth, dramatically tapping his hand over his heart.

“Huff. I thought I was mistaking you for someone else for a second. Your hair is much shorter than what I remember.” He frowned, then grinned. Her hair reminded him of his mother’s own. “You know what? I think it fits you,” he lowered his voice as he got closer to her, as if a secret was to be shared. “Between us, you did it better than Sakura-chan.”

Surprisingly enough, Tomoe muffled an amused chuckle for Sakura’s sake. Naruto was a naturally born tease, as it seemed, always getting on his closest friends’ nerves. He wouldn't let the opportunity of teasing the pink-haired girl slide without giving it a shot, even if said girl wasn't around to land a perfect punch on his head. Tomoe did think Sakura’s hair was cute as it was, though she couldn't recall ever seeing baby-pink strands past shoulder-length.

Tomoe grinned, happy about the first compliment she got about her new haircut.

“Thank you, Naruto-kun.”

Naruto beamed as he nodded, giving Tomoe a thumbs-up.

“So, I’m here to ask if you have seen Sasuke and Sakura-chan. I've been looking for them everywhere, but it seems like they vanished.”

Tomoe recalled seeing a head of raven-dark hair leaving the venue, followed by a head of cherry-pink hair, but she just shook her hair. Whatever Naruto had to say to them was not serious at all. If Sakura and Sasuke left unannounced, then it meant they wanted to have some time for themselves.

She shook her head.

“I haven't seen them, no.”

“Oh, crap,” Naruto scratched the back of his head. “They’ve been doing this a lot lately.” He was really clueless about his friends’ endeavors, as it seemed. Tomoe’s eyebrows lifted at his obliviousness. “Guess I’ll have to bother Obito then. Thanks, Tomoe-san! See ya around!”

And just like that, he was gone. But Tomoe wasn't alone. This time, she felt another presence approaching from behind. She turned around to find long brown hair and a pair of dark eyes, identical to her husband’s obsidians whenever he didn't flesh his dojutsu.

Tomoe’s breathing hitched, yet she could find nothing but an amicable expression on the woman’s face. Izumi had both of her hands behind her back. As soon as Tomoe took notice of her closeness, she stood still, not sure if getting closer was the right thing to do. From where she was, Izumi could see the small lingering scars on Tomoe’s face. What she knew to be long strands of dark red hair were now above shoulder-length, around her jaw. 

Izumi took notice of how tired her eyes looked—without a doubt, Tomoe was having a tough time just like herself and Itachi.

“I never got a proper chance to check on you after the attack, Tomoe-san.” She smiled. Her smile was beautiful. “My name is Uchiha Izumi.”

One look was enough for Izumi to know Tomoe knew exactly who she was, as she wasn't sure if Itachi ever talked about them—if he ever said he was to marry her before she came in unannounced. Though Izumi didn't blame Tomoe. That look was enough for her to know Itachi’s wife was as clueless as she had been before that night at Naka River when Itachi finally revealed everything about their forced marriage and everything that happened to lead them to that moment. 

Izumi marveled, perhaps, that Tomoe was even more clueless than herself.

“I…know who you are.”

You do, Izumi thought and lingered, although she didn't know for what. Tomoe felt like she could run and hide, ashamed, as if she had taken something too precious from Izumi’s hands. As if she had a choice. Tomoe felt like she destroyed something she wasn't supposed to even glimpse—like walking through a garden, trampling over flowers that were supposed to grow and not die.

Izumi just smiled, her eyes disappearing behind closed lids, contrary to what Tomoe had thought it would go. She had thought about that moment a few times.

How would Izumi react if she were to be face-to-face with her? Would she scream and curse the union to her lover? Would she put all the blame on herself? Would she wish Itachi had left her the morning he realized he would never be able to love her for what she is? 

Tomoe unconsciously touched Itachi’s necklace. An act to keep herself grounded, remembering that he was close even though they couldn't see each other. She didn't think about what the closeness would mean, but she had lived with him enough to at least find some solace in seeing a familiar face.

“I see,” Izumi nodded, offering another chaste smile. “I was wondering when we’d have the opportunity to meet.”

“Honestly, I’ve been asking myself the same thing, even though I didn't tell anyone.”

Izumi glanced at the colorful embellishments around them, noticing how the red part of the uchiwa of the clan crest was a few shades brighter than Tomoe’s hair. She was waiting for her to have red marks on her face and white hair, just like Nidaime Hokage, but guessed the lack of it was inherited from her mother. However, her red eyes were very much remarkable like the late Hokage. Izumi wondered if her father had married a Uzumaki as Shodai Hokage and his grandfather.

“Is it a bad thing or a good thing?”

“I don't know.” Like Itachi. She reminded Izumi of him. “I just…feel bad. It feels like I’m in a place that’s not mine to be.”

Tomoe sighed. She guessed it was easier to speak with a female, even though it happened to be her husband’s lover. 

“I have made peace with it.” Now it was Izumi’s time to look everywhere but Tomoe. “There are things he still…has to share with you. Only he can. Things not you, or me, or even himself have control of.”

Izumi realized that very late, wishing she had given Itachi everything she could when he went through the toughest time in his life. But now that he had Tomoe, Izumi could only wish she would be the rock to keep him grounded.

Tomoe got a surprised look on her face as she silently gasped. Izumi’s words were no stranger to her thoughts and feelings. Yet it felt like Itachi made sure she could never quite put her hands on whatever piece of information he was holding back, and his lover had just confirmed it. Whether purposefully or not, it frustrated her to no end to be kept at arm’s length by him.

“I don't think he can, or that he will.” The words brought Izumi’s dark eyes back to Tomoe. “I don't think he wants to.”

“Sometimes—” Izumi stopped mid-sentence, afraid Tomoe might get the idea she knew more of her husband than herself, even though it was true. When Tomoe only blinked in anticipation, she went on. “—all he needs is a little push. I’ve known him for the majority of my life. You wouldn't take a word from this man unless you try hard to.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Tomoe said, and she really was. She could see they were truly promising lovers.

Izumi nodded with a compassionate face. “I know.”

The necklace hadn't left Tomoe’s neck ever since the wedding.

Itachi was satisfied enough with Sasuke on the house’s guard as he had his brother's constant company again. The ANBU ninja was always near when Tomoe left for her shifts at the hospital—now as an employee, as per Tsunade’s insistence—and also when she left to go for walks.

Tomoe didn't tell Itachi about her and Izumi’s encounter at the wedding, or let it show how his lover’s words stuck with her. She noticed how Izumi talked about him in the past as if something she wasn't aware of shifted between them. She knew Itachi was even more because of Sasuke’s presence. And that he refused the necklace whenever she tried to hand it back to him because it was the only thing that would bind them together and keep her safe. But it ate her alive when he refused to talk about his progress in finding her attacker.

It was a rainy day, heavy rain. Tomoe ran some errands before she went to meet her mother. Since it was raining, they would have some tea at their house. It was shortly noticed as they didn't know it was going to rain, but it also made Tomoe happy.

Itachi had been training with Sasuke since lunch, but Tomoe hadn't heard their sparring for some time. Properly bundled up for the weather, she put another teapot for Sasuke on the table. Tomoe knew that although they weren't training anymore, Sasuke was still there since he was still guarding the house. So he could come in and have tea with his brother for as long as they wanted.

Deeming everything done and ready for her to leave, Tomoe went to the shoji door that led to the engawa at the back of the house. The door was ajar, and through that small space, she could see Itachi alone.

Tomoe gasped. Sasuke was nowhere to be found, and even if he was there, she was left too stunned by her topless husband to notice.

Itachi wasn't completely topless. Tomoe felt like she was infringing on his privacy as she watched him unzip his cloak, sliding it off his shoulders and throwing it to shelter the henhouse where the wind forced the rain to reach. From where she stood, Tomoe could see the ridges of his back. When he turned sideways to see if the chickens huddled in the far corner were safe from the rain, she could see a tattoo on his left arm, close to his shoulder. Two red lines were linked in the middle but never touching, making an imperfect vortex. Red eyes roamed the extension of his body, from the feet wrapped in his sandals, to his waist holding his dark blue pants, to his soaked, dark, long hair.

Then he turned as if he had sensed her eyes. Tomoe gasped again as four orbs met. She could sense irises dilating. Itachi gave the first step in the direction of the house, so she slid the shoji door fully open.

There was no reason for her to hide once she was caught staring.

“I’m leaving,” Tomoe said, soon realizing the word choice sounded a little off. Itachi kept walking to the house, approaching the engawa unbothered. His eyebrows lifted, though. “I—hm—there’s tea for you and Sasuke-kun. I’m going to visit my parents…”

Itachi still said nothing until he approached the engawa. Suddenly, the red cloak hanging over the henhouse seemed a lot more interesting to Tomoe.

“Okay,” was Itachi’s answer after humming. He tried not to let it show how the rosy shade of her cheeks mesmerized him to a little extent. Itachi was not dumb, ever since school. He just wasn't expecting her to act like that. “Tenzou will accompany you.”

Itachi stared at Tomoe’s back once she turned around and vanished as if she wasn't standing there. He could sense her by the chakra-infused necklace, but as much as he didn't know what to do. Perhaps if he hadn't remembered Izumi’s question later on their encounter at Naka River, he would’ve turned and scared her away with no intention to do so.

Entering through the kitchen's back door, Itachi was met with a table full of delicacies and freshly prepared tea that smelled like heaven. 

He had to go out and call Sasuke in.

“Yes,” Itachi confessed. “Since the coup was prevented. I have.”

Chapter Text

Too young to remember that day. Tomoe was barely four years old when she was posed by Konoha’s gates. Patiently waiting, she had always been too kind. The day she was born, the medical-nins around her flimsy body had all told Senju Minori she had birthed a girl gifted from the heavens.

Tomoe was wrapped in a white travel cloak, holding an equally old stuffed animal gifted by Jiraiya. Minori and Itama were on both sides of her—they weren't allowed to leave Konoha. Sandaime Hokage needed them as much as they needed Tsunade. Soon, they would depart for the battlefield. As soon as Tomoe was gone, they would have nothing in the village to worry about.

Red, infant eyes were glued to the cemented ground. It had a designed pattern Tomoe liked to trace in her mind—yet her thoughts were interrupted when a group of ninjas approached the village’s gate.

Tomoe’s eyes traced them like the pattern on the ground. They looked incredibly intimidating to her little size, with various lengths of dark hair and equally dark eyes. So she pressed the stuffed animal to her chest and squeezed Minori’s hand. Half of Itama’s body hid her from the vision. Tomoe couldn't tell where they were heading; she didn't even know there was a war happening, and that was the reason the children stopped showing up to the playground. She had just assumed they didn't like her.

But there was a kid in the middle of the tall, daunting men.  A boy. And his eyes were just as dark as those of the men surrounding him. He walked calmly beside a brooding man. Tomoe’s eyes caught her father slightly bowing, then she caught the man bowing too. Her eyes descended to her level again, catching small dark irises looking curiously at her. She managed to show him a chaste smile behind the stuffed animal’s ears, and he smiled back.

Tomoe’s thin and small eyebrows shot up, surprised at his equally chaste smile. Small red eyes followed him until she could no longer distinguish trees from human bodies.

That boy was four-year-old Uchiha Itachi, heading to the battlefield alongside his clansmen on the day he gained consciousness about the world he was born into. 

But they were truly too young, and that day left bigger marks on core memories for them to remember that exchange of innocent glances and small smiles.

Izumi didn't believe those things—destiny. Not when suddenly she woke one day, and Itachi was not there to smile his quiet smile as if he had promised a lifetime together. He was taken away from her by said destiny, and for that, Izumi ought never to believe in things like predestination anymore. If it was cruel to the point of taking the man she loved all her life away from her grasp, then it didn't deserve her faith or her adoration. It didn't deserve her.

Yet she had stumbled upon it for the second time in her life, as it seemed. On the eighth day of June, a day before Itachi’s birthday, Konoha was under attack. And she saw him, and his powerful dojutsu and how far he could see with it, indicating which noble clan he belonged to.

“Orochimaru-sama is attacking Konoha. He’s here for Hiruzen-sama, and he also brought along Otogakure shinobi, apparently to seize children. Especially the ones with kekkei genkai.”

Izumi had fled the ANBU headquarters as soon as Yondaime Hokage called, but she was erratic. Unstable. The first upcoming date she was bound to pass away from Itachi in years made her heart shake in the past. It made her remember every kiss they shared as a birthday gift that no amount of money in the world could ever buy. That year, they would share nothing. 

She had just passed the place where they used to get dangos. They used to be so sweet. Izumi stumbled, hiding in an alley from a great explosion nearby. Agonizing screams were like hands coming from the soil beneath her feet and keeping her frozen. She heard some ninja yelling about the ANBU—ordered to guard Sarutobi Hiruzen. They had to keep on leading civilians to the safety of the Hokage Monument Mountain. First the children, then the women, then the men.

A force outside of her pulled her arm out of another explosion on the other end of the alley. Izumi half-processed what had happened when a giant, deep snake came into view, still on the far side of Konoha’s outskirts.

“Be more careful!”

Izumi darted in the direction of the voice with a gasp, breaking free.

“Huh?” She slurred. He didn't let go of her arm, but his grip wasn't like iron anymore.

His eyes were Hyuga’s. The Byakugan’s lilac shade contrasted with the blood-red of Izumi’s Sharingan. It didn't waver from her figure, though. Dojutsu activated, veins bulging on his temples and cheeks, he examined her with the power that those such eyes granted.

“All your chakra points are open. You’re fine,” he confirmed, still adamant to hold her arm. “You need to go back to where Sarutobi Hiruzen is, ANBU-nin. The civilians are with us.”

Something felt like something as he let go of her arm, but neither of them moved. Izumi wanted to ask for his name, but another explosion overlapped the sound of her voice. 

He had saved her. She wanted to voice her gratitude.

But he turned his back on her before she could utter a word.

“Please go. Be safe, Uchiha-san.”

And with that, she watched him go to another group of vulnerable children, guiding them to the safety of the Hokage Monument.

Izumi fled to where Sarutobi Hiruzen was.

The Uchiha District had been rebuilt on the outskirts of Konoha after the Third Great Ninja War. When suspicion arose amidst the village’s council after Namikaze Minato and Orochimaru were the only names mentioned to be considered for the title of Yondaime Hokage, it was decided then that they ought to be under constant observation, as Uchiha Fugaku refused to give in his thoughts about his name not even being taken into consideration for the position.

It granted the Uchiha clan a way of being subtly cast out of Konoha as if they weren't the ones who funded it—but it also granted them a good overview of the growing village their ancestors fought to build. The Hokage’s Tower was the farthest, and even if Fugaku hadn't wholly disagreed with the decision with words when Sarutobi Hiruzen was still Sandaime Hokage, the years showed him that the further the problems were, the better he could see it, and the faster he could act.

Nobody dared to attack the Uchiha District first, as they would be considered to be out of their minds, no matter how strong. When the first explosion was heard, Fugaku knew it was a summoning jutsu. It didn't take long for him to see the giant snake, the result of Orochimaru’s wicked endeavors.

Fugaku was calm, however, when he ordered Military Police shinobi to go protect and lead women and children to the safehouse at the Hokage Monument. He thought the Sennin’s wishes were limited to what every hidden village in the Five Great Shinobi Countries perceived at most: attacking a Kage Tower.

Yet his Sharingan clearly discerned when the Uchiha District was attacked. Women and children being led out were the first ones to be vulnerable, and apparently, their target as well.

“Fugaku-san!” He heard a youthful voice call from behind. When would that same scene stop looping? He had seen it before.  “What do we do?!”

The older man stared at the chaos as a film he had seen years before. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. When they opened again, the ordinary three-tomoe pattern had transformed itself into a new one, spinning menacingly. His Mangekyō.

“I want four units here to lead the civilians out, another four to lead the rest of Konoha’s civilians. Call Yashiro, Inabi, and Tekka to come with me.”

Then, he added in a single breath, knowing very well where his younger son was. “Where’s Itachi?”

The bag full of the farmer’s market items made no sound when it reached the kitchen counter, whether because Tomoe made sure all glass bottle ingredients were secured or because of the loud rumble roaring mercilessly through the air. The contents of the bag started to shake, but not only them. The whole house shook along with the tremors. It stopped suddenly. Tomoe felt the same piercing pain in her chest, the same she hadn’t felt since she fainted once. She endured it this time.

Screams sounded from outside the house. She gripped the haori that shielded her chest from the wind outside and tried to even her breathing. Sasuke barged in not long after.

“Konoha is under attack,” he had said simply, not giving time for Tomoe to throw questions. There was no time for that. “You have to go to the Hokage Monument—”, then he noticed her struggling, “—are you alright?”

“Yes,” she managed to say. “I just need to take something from the bedroom.”

At this, Sasuke stiffened. “There’s no time.”

“I need to take it with me.”

Without giving her brother-in-law the time to retort, Tomoe went to the bedroom. At the bottom of the oshiire, wrapped in white cloth with a single Senju clan crest embroidered on it, the silvery katana Mifune of Tetsu no Kuni had gifted her at the beginning of her sword training.

Sasuke had left the house to make sure no enemy would trespass on the limits of Itachi’s property, Sharingan activated. Tomoe emerged from behind him when two Otogakure ninjas, with abilities unheard of and certainly the result of Orochimaru's maleficent work, tried to attack in hopes of reaching a group of children and women led by a single Military Police ninja. Sasuke yelled at them, and Tomoe made sure to make use of the weapon in her hands. Not a single shuriken made it past her body to wound them. Sasuke didn't allow the enemies to run away.

“Tomoe-san!” He yelled once finished. “Itachi counts on me to take you to the Hokage Monument—”

“Where is he?”

Another explosion. More screams. Tomoe wondered where Shisui had been since she hadn't seen him since he came to watch over the chickens as she recovered. Itachi didn't comment on his absence.

“At the Military Police Force headquarters.” She knew that. She had prepared breakfast and seen him leave that morning, but even knowing he left like every morning, still, as one of his clan’s prodigies, Tomoe asked out of a desire to know if he was fine. 

Sasuke had noticed the silvery weapon; it was impossible not to. Tomoe’s cunning in wielding it also didn't go unnoticed by him. He knew the only place where people used weapons like that, though he hadn't heard anything that related his sister-in-law to the shinobi-less land.

“ Sasuke-kun,” she said, and it sounded like thunder. For the first time since Sasuke met Tomoe, he heard what her voice sounded like when she wanted to be hard. “I can take care of myself. Fugaku-san must be waiting for you. I can make it to the Hokage Monument alone.”

It shouldn't be enough to persuade him, and Sasuke knew that. His brother had personally asked for Tenzou to guard her everywhere she went outside the house—even when she went out to get the ingredients needed for Itachi’s birthday cake and dangos earlier, Tenzou was there watching. And Sasuke was there when she came in.

But he also had seen how fast she moved as a threat presented to the group of civilians. He wasn't expecting her to wield a katana, but she did. Even if Sasuke wasn't acquainted with swords, he could say Tomoe had mastered them. These were things Itachi hadn't told him about. Yet even with things unheard of, Sasuke believed her as a grown-up—the sort of thing youngsters like him often did.

So for the first time, as Sasuke scrutinized what looked like a live-action of what he had heard of Senju Tobirama in his Academy days, just with reddish hair strands and no markings, he chose for the first time to trust another’s words other than his brother’s.

Sasuke swore it would be the first and the last time. He’d blame it on not having a reason to believe she’d do exactly as she said.

Tomoe would be safe. She wasn't the target at the moment.

“Sasuke-kun,” she said his name as an order, one so similar to the ones he was so accustomed to hearing coming from elders.

“I will tell Itachi about this. He needs to know where you are.”

Tomoe calmly nodded. He had the sensation her senses were all numbed by something he couldn't quite put a finger on. It looked like a reassuring nod, too. She touched the necklace on her neck, one he had just noticed. Sasuke knew to whom it belonged.

“I’m not asking for you to hide this from him. He’ll know where I am anyway.”

He left too soon to see Tomoe running in the opposite direction of the Hokage Monument, further in the Uchiha  District.

Itachi had a lethargic morning. When around a lot of green, he tended to be taken away. The training ground empty, he resumed his hours to what he had done countless times before, even if people might’ve considered he had mastered long ago. To him, whenever he faced the history of the village and the ones who had built it, Itachi barely considered himself a pupil. So whenever he had free time, he’d train. He still had the same strong desire he suddenly got when he was only five years old to be the best ninja of Konohagakure, and the best future leader the Uchiha clan could have.

He almost slipped into a dark path years ago after it almost cost Shisui’s life—the only way to repay such kindness from life was to keep training incessantly to be the best he could be.

Yet when alone in those training times, his mind often trailed back to his wife, like it never did to Izumi. The hardest battle he ever fought was the battle to keep his mind where his body was. Itachi adored Izumi, but he knew how to separate things. The same wasn't happening with Tomoe, and it frustrated him to a certain degree.

He is deemed to have failed her. Itachi tiptoed around the idea of disclosing to his wife the man he truly was and the man he once almost became, and how it directly influenced who he actually became in the aftermath. He was told not to tell a soul about it, but how could he not tell her? How could he hold back from granting her the home she so ardently desired just to abide by the councilor's wishes? He had broken the vow for Izumi because he loved her—it wasn't fair for Tomoe. She still couldn't have his love, but she deserved the truth. Itachi himself couldn't bear the idea of living a lie anymore, so he couldn't imagine letting Tomoe live like this.

Itachi also knew very well that the secrets he kept were the only wall still up between the two, after almost a year of marriage. Not that she’d swear she loved him to death once it crumbled, but at the very least, she’d feel at ease. She’d feel safe. She wouldn't look so clueless in a hospital bed, not knowing why a faceless person would want to take her life.

The Military Police Force rushed through the grounds, and it didn't take long for him to be by his father's side as soon as the older man called for both of his sons. Sasuke wasn't there yet, but he wasn't worried. It meant he was taking Tomoe to the Hokage Monument. Sasuke was perhaps the only person in Konoha that Itachi blindly trusted to do it, even if he couldn't read his chakra signature coming from the necklace at the moment. He didn't need to.

His eyes followed Sasuke when he arrived at the rooftop of the headquarters. Fugaku didn't bat an eyelash.

“Itachi.” His brother's tone was enough to get Itachi’s eyebrows furrowed. He didn't say anything. “Tomoe-san refused to go to the Hokage Monument without making sure she brought more civilians with her.”

He would’ve expected that, although it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Tomoe had an organ in her chest that was two sizes too big for her own good if he could say so himself. If he were in her shoes, he’d probably not understand why his life should be valued more than others and do the same. Itachi didn't care if she came back to save as many people as she could—he believed she’d do it with all her might, and succeed. She was a samurai after all. It wasn't how she barely survived her attack that worried him; Itachi knew it could happen in battles. It happened to him many times. He believed it to be a natural occurrence to be worried about his wife’s life, whether she could defend herself or not. She could’ve been born with a kekkei genkai like the Mokuton, just like her grandfather’s brother, and he’d still worry—for destiny, whether he believed it or not, had made her his to worry about.

So he kept his emotions at bay and sighed at Sasuke, concentrating on finding where the small portion of his chakra signature was coming from.

Uchiha District. She was close. 

Mikoto should be close to, helping as many people as she could, and so they’d be bound to find each other and keep each other safe—as family.

When Itachi gave Tomoe his chakra-infused necklace, he wasn't thinking just about her distance at the wedding. The crow that always flew high wherever she went, despite being accompanied by an ANBU guar, wasn't either. He hadn't had the time to talk to Sai, but he didn't really need to. At least not to merely know, but more to have something other than a gut feeling. Something to serve him as proof.

Yashiro, Inabi, and Tekka arrived shortly after Fugaku’s orders. Yashiro gave Itachi a once-down, but their leader’s eldest son paid him no mind. He had made his thoughts known when they visited his house and talked low about his wife, the wife of their future leader.

“Your daughter-in-law seems to always be getting herself caught in some trouble, Fugaku-sama.” Yashiro’s quick remark made Itachi’s heavy glare descend on him. The words were addressed to Fugaku, yet Itachi knew to whom they were truly addressed.

“Fugaku-sama, if you allow me to intervene,” Inabi’s steady voice rang through the air as an appeaser. They had enough problems to deal with. “She needs to go hide with other civilians—we don't have time to worry about her. I’ve heard Otogakure shinobi are taking down women to access and kidnapping children. His grudge against Sarutobi Hiruzen wasn't the only reason why he decided to strike Konoha.”

“I agree. We have bigger problems than her now,” Tekka weighed in.

It didn't sit right with Itachi, but he still respected his father’s presence and the fact that no matter how much he disregarded the trio’s thoughts most of the time, they were still elders of the Uchiha. Itachi was a polite man, never taking old ways for granted if deemed unnecessary.

Fugaku sighed but kept his silence. His glare fell on Itachi.

“We will take as many civilians to the Hokage Monument as possible, as well as give support to the ANBU.”

The five men didn't oppose.

Chapter Text

It had been an oversight, merely a slip. Tomoe had found Ayame near their flower shop, which was in flames. As soon as she got sight of the mother with her two children, Tomoe ran to them to be sure they were okay. The twins noticed her before Ayame could, and Tomoe’s oncoming startled her.

“Tomoe!”

“Tomoe-san!” the twins shouted in unison.

“Are you okay?!”

“We are! B-but—”

“You three need to go to the Hokage Monument. Ayame, we need to take as many civilians as possible there, but we need to go through the outskirts.”

“Tomoe-san, is it true they’re seizing children?” Ayame asked, alarmed.

“I don't know, Ayame-san.” Tomoe looked down at where the Uchiha District gates should be. “It’s going to be hard to go through the village. We need to take as many people as we can and take them to the outskirts—”

“Tomoe-san!”

Tomoe was too late to identify the heavy steps with so many people running. An acute sound was heard, and then nothing but the side effects. She felt a warm liquid on both her ears, and if she started getting dizzy, Tomoe could see blood coming out of their ears as well.

She didn't hesitate to turn fast, wielding her katana, blocking an obvious advance. Some time between being wary of the enemy and worrying about the people behind her, Tomoe had screamed they should run and hide until she could reach them safely. He was alone, but she supposed not for long if she kept him there. Soon, more of them would swarm the place, and although she was good at wielding a sword, there was so much she could do while worrying for others mid-fight.

Tomoe's eyes narrowed at the unrecognizable hitai-ate. The desperate wails of villagers created an eerie soundtrack for the impending clash. Swiftly, the ninja lunged forward, kunai gleaming in the darkness. Tomoe met the attack with her own katana, the clash echoing through broad daylight as if a kunai stood a chance. Their skills in weaponry danced in harmony, a deadly ballet beneath the canopy of blue skies and white clouds. Each move was calculated by both parties, a testament to their mastery of their own art.

“Heh! You’re not a Ninjutsu user, are you?”

The air crackled with intensity as the ninja weaved through hand seals. In that impromptu battleground, Tomoe's determination clashed with the Otogakure ninja's relentless pursuit. Using his distraction as an advantage, Mifune’s words rang in her head loud and clear, reminding her of the years she spent training to master the very same art that made it look like she was dancing with a blade instead of fighting.

“One true to his convictions shall become a hero whose name is sung throughout the ages.”

She had heard that story many times—of how Mifune defeated Hanzo with a single swing of his blade in a Kenjutsu strike.

“How did you manage to do it, Mifune-san?”

“The Laidō.”

Tomoe looked down at the newly gifted katana in her hands.

“Will I be able to master it?”

“If you train enough, and when the time comes when you will face the fear of having to protect the ones important to you with your bare hands, you will. Then you will have to keep practicing—to keep polishing yourself even when your body ages.”

It swung in his middle part, fast enough to catch him between his hand seals. His fingers stopped abruptly, and Tomoe didn't wait to see his body thumping against the ground.

Inside the flower shop, she found Ayame and the twins in a corner. Takada had puked from the impact of the sound attack, but she was just too dizzy to understand. Tomoe checked if the blood on Ayame’s and Tsubaki’s faces had dried as well.

“Can you two walk?”

“Yes,” Ayame nodded.

“Okay,” she looked down at Takada. “You and Tsubaki need to leave.”

“Tomoe…”

“Please listen to me, Ayame-san,” she insisted. “Takada can’t walk. That man’s Jutsu did a number on her, and you need to be at the Hokage Monument as soon as possible. Bring as many civilians as you can, if you can.”

“B-but I can’t leave my daughter behind…”

Tomoe frowned regretfully. She felt as if she was asking too much of a mother, and she was. She couldn't imagine a scenario where she had to leave a child of her behind.

“I know I will never understand how this feels, Ayame-san, but you need to be safe as soon as possible. Takada will be safe with me, I promise you.”

Ayame pondered. She had seen how swiftly Tomoe took care of the ninja before he could even pounce a second time. Yet her eyes fell on Takada, and she felt as if her heart had decreased two sizes smaller, and it felt tight. Shame was already crying before she realized she had nodded.

She trusted Tomoe as the wife of the future head of the Uchiha. If she were willing to protect her daughter, Ayame would believe so. 

They fled with no more words. Tsubaki consoled Ayame as soon as they had to give their backs to Takada.

Tomoe found a pot of water behind the counter, but the cloths were dirty with dirt. She ripped a piece of the hem of her dress and dipped it in the water, cleaning Takada’s face and the dried blood in her ears.

Lifting the short-haired twin was easy—her body was lightweight. It pressed against Tomoe’s own in search of some warmth and relief. Behind the counter was the best place to hide at that moment, since she was tired herself. The pain in her chest only subsided for a moment before it came back at full force, making her knees buckle.

“Tomoe-san?”

Itachi’s voice. Tomoe didn't know she was subconsciously waiting to hear it, yet it didn't wash her body with relief. She still got up and watched as Itachi stood near the door, waiting for an answer.

A defeated sigh left Tomoe’s lips as she grabbed the handle of her katana. The sight came from a place of regret—she felt like a fool for believing he, whoever he was, wouldn't take the chaos as an opportunity.

“I still can fight,” she assured, positioning herself in a fighting stance. “So bring it on.”

The doppelganger’s head turned slightly to the side, one of his eyebrows raising. Now that Tomoe had seen him for a second time, or perhaps it was the way she grew costumed to Itachi's more frequent presence, she didn't know why she even thought it could be him. Even though that doppelganger looked exactly like him, nothing in them felt the same.

“How did you know this time?”

Tomoe’s eyes fixated on his neck. “You weren’t very attentive to the details,” she noticed how his eyes did the same. “You should’ve known if you wanted to make it seem like Itachi was the one who killed me.”

A look of surprise that Tomoe had never seen on her true husband took over the doppelganger’s face.

“Now the order is to just kill you, no matter if they think Uchiha Itachi did it or not. Eventually, one thing will lead to another,” he nodded. “But you are very smart for figuring it out. And lucky too, since you’re alive to do so. Though I can’t use Ninjutsu like your precious husb—”

“So why did you come to me using his doppelganger?”

The moment of silence beforehand was too short for Tomoe to let his words sink in. 

“Because I know it makes you hesitate. You can fight well. I can’t risk not accomplishing my mission.”

But when they did, she didn't take them lightly. 

“Just who ordered you?”

The doppelganger said nothing, instead grabbing his kunai with precise force. Tomoe wasn't one to claim victory over things like a kunai, logically being inefficient against a blade—the deep purple fluid that soaked the tip of his kunai showed her it was to no avail. He was there to end what was ordered.

“This is poison, made by none other than Sasori of Sunagakure.” he ignored her question, observing her eyes. “Sonagakure and Konohagakure made an alliance years ago. Tomoe-sama, do you see the similarities between those two villages and your situation with Uchiha Itachi?”

“You’re talking nonsense,” she insisted, worried about Takada behind the counter. “There’s a child here.”

“I have no business in hurting a child. I will make sure that she’s alright when I’m done,” the doppelganger assured, and somehow Tomoe felt like he was being honest. “Now answer me. Do you know, Tomoe-sama?”

“I don't know what you’re talking about,” Tomoe admitted.

“Of course, you don’t,” he didn't move. “The hidden villages, all of them, make decisions supposedly based on what’s good for the villagers without them even being aware of such ‘good-intentioned’ judgments. The higher-ups say it’s for protection, but it’s all truly just for power .”

Tomoe tried not to let it show how utterly confused she was, but she had never been good at playing the careless counterpart.

“If you knew the real reason behind your marriage with Uchiha Itachi, would you stay, Senju Tomoe? Would you be sacrificing things over and over again for other people’s problems just like him?”

Looking at the doppelganger was the hardest part of trying to keep a cold exterior. Tomoe tried to replace his voice, which sounded exactly like Itachi’s, with Mifune’s lessons. She didn't try to look away, and it felt like a scene out of a movie she was sure she had watched before. No matter how the rational part of her brain tried to remind her the man in front of her wasn't her husband, and that the real Itachi wouldn't do anything to hurt her intentionally—a part of her she didn't know how to understand took over and kept replaying how Itachi didn't feel safe in his house to the point of pointing a kunai at her neck. All the memories since September that always felt too foreign, or even painful to some extent, replayed over and over again.

The downcast eyes on the wedding day.

The distance.

The place that felt too much like a forbidden territory.

The spot she couldn't ever stay at because it had Izumi’s shape, and she was still there like a ghost.

Everything came crashing down like a tidal wave. Tomoe was a heartbreak away from finding out why she had to come back to the place of her dreams just to fall right into the arms of the man who could never promise to catch her before she felt how hard concrete could be.

Tomoe still held the katana’s handle with more leverage.

“Your marriage is just like Suna and Konoha after all,” the doppelganger brought her back. “A deal between two powerful sides who hate each other.”

“I don't hate Itachi,” she assured. “Konoha’s problems are mine too. This is my home. The people I love are here.”

“What about him? Are you sure he doesn't resent you? ”

Tomoe didn't know the answer to those questions. She went on with the answer she believed in.

“I can’t speak on his behalf.”

But the truth was that she was mad. Mad at everyone, and especially Itachi, for judging her undeserving of knowing about her own destiny. She was mad at her parents, the council, the Hokage, and Konoha. She was mad for being clueless.

“So I guess this talk is pointless,” the doppelganger said, oblivious to Tomoe’s internal battle. “If you say you can still fight, then bring it on. Make that happen.”

The clashing of a katana with a blade could be heard even by the birds that flew frightened of the sound.

Itachi watched carefully as every civilian was guided to the safe house. Every time he saw a head with red hair getting closer, he waited for the distorted face to morph into the face of his wife. The wait became longer, and patience shorter. He knew the Uchihas would be the last ones to reach there, but she should be there already.

The first children of his clan started to arrive, but there was still no sign of Tomoe.

“Sasuke!” His brother answered his call by being by his side in no time. “I need to get back to the district.”

“Itachi,” only a call of his name would be enough for Sasuke to make his brother listen to him, but somehow, that time it didn't work. Something told him the things he had to say wouldn't matter, because Itachi had already made up his mind, something Sasuke perhaps would only understand when it was time to make Haruno Sakura his own. 

So he came up with the only logic he could muster to have his brother less hectic than what he had become in just a few seconds, “Your wife’s not weak. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

“I know that very well,” Itachi assured. “But she doesn't know the shinobi world the way we do, Sasuke.”

The youngest knew the deepest meaning of the oldest words. Nodding was the only thing left to do.

“I’ll cover for you.”

Sasuke had no time to say anything else as he watched Itachi flee from there.

Waves of his own chakra hit him as soon as he entered the district, and as if a pen was held against a paper by a pendulum that shook with an earthquake, it drew peaks in his mind. It was like a part of himself was fighting outside his body, and he knew something was wrong. Chaos always made Itachi’s heart slam against his ribcage uncomfortably, despite one of his big traits being composure. Tomoe’s absence took the pang in his chest to another level, buzzing in his head like a vice.

Itachi had forgotten what it felt like—almost as if it never happened. The last time he felt something so similar was the time when he thought everything was lost with Shisui’s death and the possible fall of his clan by his own hands. It had been years before, and for some reason, Itachi never realized how merciful it was for his mother to have birthed Sasuke. A second son, a second chance.

Tomoe’s absence brought it all back to him like awful memories he had put in a box and stored in a dark, far corner of his mind. His wife being in danger for the second time made it look like he had jeopardized the third chance they had, and he wouldn't accept this.

Between some crumbled houses, people were still running. Itachi could see some Otogakure ninjas, as well as Konohagakure ninjas. They were not a thing to worry about.

Itachi leaped and ran from roof to roof in the direction of the only flower shop in the Uchiha District as a not-so-distant memory made its way to the front of his mind. He landed on a roof to evaluate it, making sure it happened and was not a product of his worried mind. But it wasn't. Itachi knew he had not found the small exchange with that man odd for nothing.

He knew where he needed to be and who he was looking for.

Sometime in between the fight, Takada had woken up. Shielded by the counter of the place she knew all too well, she could discern the clashing, the grunts, and the null sounds before she could see it. Takada recollected a few things, the last one being the enemy attack. After that, everything went black—and she realized her mother and sister weren't around, which meant, hopefully to her, that they were safe. So in an attempt to understand what was happening, she crawled to the corner of the counter without a sound.

Just a few months into the Academy, Takada had never seen someone wielding a katana. Her father was around with kunai and shurikens, and she made him promise to help both her and Tsubaki in weaponry Justus.

Her eyes grew in size upon seeing Tomoe swinging the katana as if it were part of herself, an extension of her limbs.

Takada soon realized that she couldn't just stay back and watch, even after the awe of seeing Tomoe fight vanished and the realization that the very person she was fighting was none other than Uchiha Itachi sank in—the man all the children of the Uchiha clan looked up to. 

For a child, witnessing two people who should love each other fight was confusing enough. 

The manner in which the doppelganger tossed Tomoe when he got his hands on her was just too frivolous for Takada to even consider that to be Itachi. Even though she wished for it not to be him, the lack of the legendary Dojutsu power made it difficult for Takada to know it wasn't him, indeed.

“ Itachi-san… ”

Regardless of her accelerated heart that beat for her family, she was a Konohagakure ninja. She had to take matters into her own hands.

If her hair had been longer, the way it was when she came back to Konoha, perhaps Tomoe wouldn’t have caught it. The months that passed brought some length back, but nothing that could’ve made it difficult for her to discern Takada coming out from behind the counter.

“Tomoe-san!”

Tomoe would have never mistaken the white paper with red edges and a seal, slightly bigger than a hand, attached to the end of a kunai. She did not have enough time to detach from the doppelganger's grip on her wrist before she let the katana go and ran to Takada, who was just making a snake hand sign.

As if the whole world moved in slow motion, Tomoe didn't have enough time to get to Takada and protect the child with her larger body—the paper exploded, bringing her to the ground with a strong thud.

The dust cleaned out fast; the wind was strong that day. Though Tomoe didn't black out, she had to cough first before she proceeded to call Takada. The weight on her legs kept her from making sudden movements, yet she still tried to crawl. 

Tomoe had made a promise to Ayame, and the remainder of that very promise was what made adrenaline be injected into her veins, shooing away the pain and giving her strength.

“Takada!” she kept on shouting. “Takada!”

“I almost lost this one. The girl is fast,” the doppelganger’s voice sounded again, from above. Tomoe darted back to see him pressing down on her immobilized legs. “Unfortunately, I can’t recreate your husband’s Dojutsu,” he said, frustrated. It angered her. “I lost my kunai, too. But I think a shuriken will do.”

It was aimed at her head. Tomoe stared into the doppelganger’s eyes, hoping to find the cold familiarity she was getting used to. Instead, she saw nothing but a void. And suddenly, bright red eyes with a single tomoe spinning around the center gaped down at her. Tomoe’s eyes grew in size as the scene unfolded before her eyes.

Takada had awakened her Sharingan.

“Stop, Itachi-san!” The little girl stretched her arm with her palm facing the doppelganger.

“Susanoo!”

Tomoe wrapped her arms around Takada when she saw clouds the color of flames surrounding them.

Itachi felt it before he could hear the explosion.

A strong pulse of his chakra came when he glanced to where the sound had come. He was grateful, then, for putting that necklace on Tomoe’s neck. If he had not done that at the wedding, perhaps he would be later than he was when he first saved her.

He knew the downside of using his strongest attack in that situation, and if he did, it was just one less triumph card against Orochimaru. Wielding such power came with so much as other implications. Overusing it was a step he couldn't take back.

When he found the woman and the child, blood was already streaming down his face as the large humanoid body of his Susanoo took form out of nowhere. Its hands enveloped them before it was too late and brought them close to him. 

The doppelganger was gone, like the first time. Yet that time around, Uchiha Itachi knew very well where to find him.

Chapter Text

Shisui was half a day away from Konoha’s gates when a crow came to him. It had a sealed parchment attached to it, and the words were enough to make the man, along with his student, turn what would’ve taken half a day into an hour. Riku, the younger and one with the most shenanigans, frantically insisted they could make it in half an hour instead. 

The insisting ceased once they saw the tall and imposing red wood of the gates.

Recognizing Itachi’s chakra signature came like second nature to Shisui, and even if he couldn't, the first stage of the flame-colored body of Itachi’s Susano’o could be seen from a few yards away. From where Shisui stood, a person with an attire he knew too well to disregard that most certainly shouldn't be on a roof not so far from where the assaulted couple was.

“You aren't supposed to be there,” he muttered to himself, squinting at the scene. The realization hit as fast as he gave the first leap in the unknown ninja’s direction, “So it’s you .”

One of Shisui’s eyes was stolen as a result of the effort to stop an imminent civil war, and it had almost cost his life. Shisui’s characteristic tempo, however, was a thing Shimura Danzo couldn't get rid of no matter how he tried, differently from his Genjutsu offensives or even his Susano’o. His talent was something completely detached from his eyes, and his name was given to him for a reason; even without one of his eyes, Uchihas were Uchihas for more than this sole reason.

There were many things the old man and all of Konoha’s council seemed to fail to understand over and over again.

The Sharingan was often mistaken to be what made a man a Uchiha, but reality mingled in more ways than one, and what really made the Sharingan what it was was the person bearing it.

Shisui’s kunai was at the ANBU’s ninja jugular before he could retreat his real body, just as he had with the doppelganger.

“So this is the power of Uchiha Shisui of Konohagakure,” the ninja mocked, but there was no trace of nonchalance in his voice. “Even with only one Sharingan, you’re still one of the fastest shinobi to exist.”

“Quit the idle chatter,” Shisui hissed. “You’re coming with me.”

“Are you going to put me under a Genjutsu?” The ninja resisted Shisui’s push, not letting go of the travesty in his voice. “Is your eye still powerful to that extent?”

This managed to humor Shisui. Too much time away from the village had soured his mood enough.

“You think highly of yourself.”

Though Shishi hardly believed Danzo would be one to admit to his doings even if that ninja's life was at stake, both men knew what his failure in fulfilling meant. He tried to prevent the Kotoamaterasu before; this time around, Shisui was much more prepared to give in to the Genjutsu. Sasuke had done a better job than him, and it had been enough.

When the unnamed Anbu-ne ninja tried to strike Shisui in his remaining good eye, the sharpest side of his kunai sliced through the skin as a scissor would slice through paper. Shisui didn't enjoy watching the grotesque scene unfold, no matter how many times he had been through it. For a ninja whose specialty was speed, he thought that moments were always too slow.

Uchiha Shisui didn't fully enjoy being a ninja. If he had been told earlier what being one would truly be like instead of what it should be, perhaps he would’ve chosen another patch. But having the power to protect the people dear to him in his hands made the burden a lot less heavy, at least.

“Blood…”

Dread had overlapped with the rest of Tomoe’s sensations. Her arms were still firmly wrapped around Takada, though there was no reason to since Susano’o’s bare-bone hand shielded them both from the turmoil around. Tomoe felt gravity pulling her body down, but her eyes refused to look anywhere but Itachi’s face a few feet below. He looked up at them, and Tomoe was sure the blood running down his nose and the corner of his mouth was undeniably his. It moistened his face in crimson. She gripped Takada’s body.

Itachi had tired himself enough when Susano’o disappeared, lowering Tomoe and Takada to ground level carefully. On her knees, Tomoe still shielded the child with her arms.

His Mangekyō Sharingan was gone by the time Itachi approached them. Tomoe noticed the labored breathing and the way his movements became imprecise. Everything after that became a shade of muted frames until the girls were safe beneath Tsunade, Sakura, and Rin’s watch in Konoha’s Hospital. 

If Itachi had noticed Takada’s newly awakened Dojutsu activated, he held whatever comment he might have had upon his own conscience.

Two weeks had gone by since Orochimaru’s attack on Konohagakure. It was almost July. Summer’s warm tendrils wrapped around Konoha like a comfort blanket of blue skies.

It was time, Tomoe had decided one afternoon before heading to the Senju estate for a visit to her parents, after helping around the district with what she could provide. Way past due time, she corrected herself. She should’ve done it before taking the first opportunity to come back to the village with open arms, regardless of what it could cost and the ulterior motives.

She waited yet again, like she had all her life. For Sarutobi Hiruzen’s funeral and the mourning for the lost ones, for Shisui and Itachi to conclude that Shimura Danzo was the man who wanted her dead, although she didn't know what that truly meant. How Danzo’s debt should be paid was trivial information to her, however. Somehow, the waiting felt longer than those almost twenty-two years of darkness, but if Tomoe endured all those years, then just a few more weeks wouldn’t count as a sacrifice, though it felt like one. That time around, she felt she had something to lose.

Would Itachi endorse her willingness to be open if he were too? She still couldn't say.

In between the reconstruction of what was lost in the village, Tomoe had found the time to make a cake for his birthday as well as some dangos she knew he enjoyed way too much. For a cold man and skilled shinobi, he sure had quite the sweet tooth.

Tomoe took his surprised frown and the small smile that came after that as a positive sign after a round-shaped cake decorated with the emblem of their clan on top in red and white whipped cream was put in front of him.

“It’s late,” she shrank her shoulders, looking away from his piercing gaze. Though on an elevated level of intimidation, Tomoe didn't think he did that on purpose. It was just the way he was. It still made her feel like a little girl. “But I didn't want to let it slide.”

They were alone in the kitchen, sitting by the low table where Itachi had been waiting for Tomoe’s self-proclaimed small surprise. It was indeed small, but very big in gesture. Even Itachi himself had forgotten he had turned twenty-two. Reaching this age was seemingly not as grand as his younger self had once thought.

“Happy birthday, Itachi.”

“Thank you.” He meant it.

Tomoe offered just a small smile and a curt nod. Itachi could tell something was off, but he couldn't grasp it no matter how he tried. It felt like being trapped in a spider’s web, not being able to move despite being conscious of his surroundings. If he had taken the time to master the art of being a husband, just like he did to be a ninja, perhaps he would know how to read her. 

“Tomoe,” he took the boldness as a man. “Is something troubling you? Are you worried about your safety?”

He noticed how her eyes avoided him just as she avoided his second question.

“I’ve noticed that using your abilities that day took a toll on you,” she let out silently. Something told him it wasn't the only or even the main thing plaguing her mind as she completely ignored his second question, but Itachi kept his silence to let her speak of what she wished to. “Your nose and mouth were bleeding after you used Ninjutsu, and you slept for an entire day when the dust settled.” She looked at him. “ Susano’o… does it harm you?”

“I can't use the Mangekyō Sharingan without its consequences,” Itachi said as he felt a sense of normalcy coming back after the turmoil that followed Sandaime Hokage’s demise. “Using such power is rather burdensome,” he shared. “For the Susano’o, it feels like all my bones are being crushed whenever I use it.”

“So you feel immense pain when using it…?”

“I can endure…” he trained for it.

Tomoe nodded, not knowing what to say for some time. 

“So you’re just as strong as I’ve heard…”

He looked at her. “It depends on what one counts as strength,” he quietly commented. “I’ve trained all my life to be the strongest ninja, but it seems like it wasn't enough to keep you safe.”

Tomoe recalled the doppelganger’s words.

“I’m safe.” The thought hanging around her mind finally made it out of her lips, “If we undo this marriage, you can be free of this burden, though.”

It would be so much easier, in Tomoe’s vision. He wouldn't have to worry about someone not capable of using Ninjutsu and extremely vulnerable to Genjutsu.

Itachi frowned, slightly thrown off. “Do you think so low of me?”

“It’s not about what I think about you.”

“If this is somewhat about what I think about you, these are not my thoughts,” he said, looking at her. “I don't think you’re a burden.” You’re the one who saved my clan. You saved me.

Itachi sighed. “I understand where this is coming from. We didn't start with the right foot,” he looked at her with a hint of shame behind his dark eyes. “I feel like I said I’m sorry too many times and also not enough, but I’m not the kind of man to back down on my word. It was never my intention to end this marriage. I promised I would take care of you, so this is what I intend to do.”

Though he believed a man should live by his words and not only proclaim them, Itachi was completely lost. For the third time in his life, he felt like everything he did concerning his wife was a thorough failure. He had known Izumi all his life and never thought a time would come when he would have to learn about another woman. 

It was like learning how to read in another language, afraid he might interpret something wrong. Itachi watched as Tomoe’s petite hands grabbed and wrinkled her dress’ skirt and wondered how such delicate hands could’ve gone through the training of a samurai and still looked soft. He had yet to see her wielding it, but he didn't doubt she held its handle graciously, as if it were just a part of her body.

She ignored his words to let them sink in.

“Have you tried poppy tea?” Tomoe gave the reason behind her question once Itachi looked at her with questioning eyes, “For the pain.”

To say he was stunned is an understatement. The complete initial disregard for her in the beginning had a reason, but at the times when she looked after him, he felt like he turned into the monster he had avoided becoming years ago. One of the things Itachi had set in his head even before he met Tomoe was that he would never let her come too close. Perhaps physically someday, but not to his feelings. They would be sharing a house, and he would keep it to turn into a home.

Yet a single glance at Tomoe’s worried expression that night also turned a key in his head. The question in his head popped up like it had always been bound to.

Would he spend all his life running from Tomoe and what she could give?

Itachi refused to eat it like a toddler who rejects new food. He had been stomping that small flame, smothering it in hopes it would diminish. It exploded unexpectedly, and he didn't know where to run and lie low. If he closed his eyes, he must see her red orbs. If he opened them, all the things in the house would remind him of her.

The silence of the kitchen, which once was onerous, became nothing but comforting. They could hear the chickens outside and each other’s breath.

Tomoe pushed the plate with dangos in his direction once he looked up from the cake to her. He found the skin on her face to be unsurprisingly smooth under the natural light. 

“I haven't.”

She bore into his obsidian eyes, stripping him of any subject he might bring to keep the newfound silence away from being anything close to awkward. 

“I do not wish to end this marriage, too,” she gave a resolution to the subject she brought up. “And you should try. I used to drink it when training was too rough on me. I will be sure to bring dried poppy for tea the next time I—”

When Tomoe made mention to get up, Itachi’s hand jumped to her wrist fast. He interrupted her in a hurried attempt to make her believe his words, as if as soon as he voiced them, they’d take root and she’d be convinced.

“I decide not to end this marriage, Tomoe,” he assured. “Though I haven't been welcoming, I want you to remember you do have a husband to talk to. And I do not intend to go anywhere.”

“I remember,” was what she said. “There’s no way I can ever forget this.”

Before Tomoe could cling to Itachi’s words, however, she had two people she needed to talk to first.

Itachi found her disinterest in the ninja to be quite odd since it was like an elephant in the room. Not once did she mention being curious about anything regarding him—who he was or what happened after Orochimaru’s attack.

It irked him, made him restless. The only moment of true peace he had known for quite some time was when he picked up a piece of cake with a fork and relished in the sweetened taste. Tomoe had shared the first piece with him, but excused herself, leaving Itachi, the cake, and the dangos alone. She didn't mention where she was going, and it was already too late to ask when Itachi heard the front shoji door slide shut.

The Senju estate was as large as Hyūga’s. It was just positioned closer to the Hokage Tower since every Hokage, apart from the late Sarutobi clan head and Namikaze Minato, was a Senju. The clan wasn't as large as the Uchiha, and the last remaining members all lived comfortably within its walls. Though Tomoe spent years away, it remained almost the same way she remembered in her younger years.

Two cherry trees by the gates were always open, almost as an invitation. Nobody dared to enter, but admiring gazes were always captivated by the scenery, in every season. 

The estate was imposing, just like the name Senju still was throughout the generations since Konoha’s foundation.

“Tomoe-san?”

Tomoe’s eyes were taken away from a velvety and yet masculine voice coming from her right side. Eyes that admired the name carved on the wooden archway found pools of lilac staring back, and a very surprised expression written all over a handsome lad’s face. She didn't recognize the man, but it didn't take a genius to know which family he belonged to. It wasn't also otherworldly for him to be there, since his clan’s estate wasn't very far. 

Tomoe offered a chaste smile and a nod, “Yes.”

“For the look in your eyes, you don't remember me.”

Tomoe frowned and blushed, caught off guard. He had guessed it perfectly.

“I’m sorry,” she scratched the back of her head. “I spent too much time away from Konoha.”

The man laughed. “You sure did! It’s only natural that you don't remember me. We were barely four-year-olds when we used to play at the playground near the Academy.”

The memory was there. The swings, the seesaw, the wooden horses. Tomoe could hear a young boy’s laugh but couldn't see his face—only that his eyes were a lilac shade. She did her best to pull the name out of oblivion, but it had been too many years.

“Oh!” The entirety of her face lit up, surprised. Though she couldn't remember his name, the Byakugan was quite the catch itself to simply be forgotten.

“Hyūga Arata,” he offered, catching on to Tomoe’s hesitance in uttering his name. “It’s nice to see you back,” Arata said, looking at where Tomoe’s eyes were previously, then back at her. “I’ve heard you married Uchiha Itachi last autumn. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Tomoe nodded. “I feel bad for not remembering your name, Arata-san. It has been so many years…”

Arata shook his head and his hands in front of him frenetically. “Oh, it’s all good! I didn't expect you to remember after so long,” he mimicked Tomoe and scratched the back of his head. “So, are you visiting your family?”

“Yes,” her eyes went back to the archway of the estate, then at him again. The right upper side of her lips was up. “I feel like I heard more from them when I was away than now that I am back.”

“That’s the perk of being married, I think.”

“It must be.” They laughed.

“So, Tomoe-san…” he scratched the back of his head again. “Do you… hum… happen to know about a woman of the Uchiha clan with dark hair?” Tomoe blinked at Arata, not sure how to answer that question. Almost every Uchiha had dark hair, if not every. “She’s an ANBU-nin. I found her in an alleyway during Orochimaru’s attack, and she didn't seem okay. I want to check up on her and see if she’s doing fine.”

Tomoe’s red eyes grew in size, but she fought to not allow the shock to be noticed. “…Izumi-san?”

“Uchiha Izumi? Is this her name?”

“Oh…” Tomoe blinked repeatedly. “I’m not sure…”

She wondered if she had messed up by giving Arata Izumi’s name. Tomoe didn't even know if Izumi was the woman he found, but it wasn't much of a mystery when everyone in the Uchiha clan knew about the third Anbu-nin who managed to climb that far in rank with their name. It was nearly impossible for it to just be a coincidence—the name had come out of Tomoe’s lips before she could realize she was thinking out loud.

“It’s okay, Tomoe-san,” Arata nodded once and smiled. “I’ll see for myself if it’s her.”

“Oh, but…” Tomoe couldn't fathom how Itachi would react if he found out she had given away Izumi’s name like this. She didn't even understand why she felt like she was in the wrong for doing so. Arata looked at Tomoe expectantly. She shook her head. “It’s nothing, Arata-san. I’m glad I could help.”

And then he left her alone to stare at the archway again. For a brief moment, she wanted to back up. Tomoe faltered a step back but stopped immediately. 

What good would it do? For how long have I been running from confrontation? What do I fear?

She had concluded that Itachi probably never loosened up his whole life. Someone can’t try to be what they are not twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Itachi always came off as a stiff man, hard as a wall that seemed impossible to penetrate. Tomoe simply had a feeling it all had to do with something a small, specific group of people in Konoha knew about.

So taking step after step wasn’t a choice, but simply an obligation. The real motivation behind her newfound strong will could be dealt with after.

“I didn't know where to find you out of here. Konoha has become a great village after all.”

Izumi blinked, still stunned. “Oh… it’s okay…”

So he was the Hyūga who saved her.

It felt so different from when she met Itachi in her early childhood. The Uchiha always seemed to be in a race with people and things Izumi couldn't see. Hyūga Arata felt refreshed—something so different yet so similar. Izumi felt like a punch could turn her world on its axis, and it still wouldn't feel as confusing as what she felt when hearing Arata’s words.

“I also didn't want you to feel like I was creepily chasing you, so I didn't come to the Uchiha District,” he added. A gentle breeze ricocheted his dark locks, and sun rays illuminated the lilac of his eyes. “But I just wanted to know how you were doing. After the attack, I realized I might have been a little hard on you, so I apologize.”

Izumi frowned, “Hard?”

She was an Anbu-nin for a reason. A man’s hardness should never be a problem.

“Huh… I… Not that you—”

“No, it’s…” she breathed in. “It’s okay. I wasn't expecting your visit, that's all.”

Arata scratched the back of his head as his cheeks turned red like apples. Izumi became even more intrigued.

“Would you like to grab something to eat?” his eyes grew two sizes bigger. He shook both his hands in front of his body. “If you’re not doing anything else, of course!”

Bold.

“…Yes. That should be no problem.”

But I like bold guys.

And Izumi was also very tired of suffering from things she couldn't control.

The kettle whistled. Minori silently got up to reach the stove.

“And how did you expect me to just stay at the hospital, Itama? Even your daughter was attacked again. If not for Uchiha Itachi, she would be dead now.”

“She wouldn't be attacked if she weren’t his wife in the first place.”

Though Tomoe could imagine her father had concern behind his eyes at the mention of her name, the slightest undertone of distaste for Itachi in his voice didn't go unnoticed by her. She waited for more, but only saw her mother pouring hot water into Tsunade’s teacup. Eyeing the dried poppy flowers on a glass pot not too far away, she wondered if it could lessen only the physical aspects of pain.

“You decided to marry her to Itachi in the first place. Both of you.”

The ceaseless mention of Itachi’s name made Itama breathe deeper. Tomoe held her breath, watching from the small gap left between the shoji door and the wall.

“And he should take his role more seriously. Tomoe isn't experienced, so keeping her safe shouldn't be a hard job for a man who once was ready to slaughter his entire clan. Itachi promised this. They promised.”

Minori was still oddly silent. She was quieter and observant, yes, and not Tsunade or even Itama found it otherworldly. But Tomoe felt something heavy in the air. She tried to shut down her gasp behind the ajar door as she felt adrenaline injected into her system—her hands started to sweat.

Slaughter his entire clan?

She hated eavesdropping, yet hearing Tsunade’s mad tone made her halt before she could slide the door and make her presence known. Her lack of chakra signature granted her that much, but it didn't ease the nerves.

It was too much information to process.

Slaughter his entire clan.

Itachi promised.

“Itama,” Tsunade gulped the still almost boiling tea. “I know we are one of the last remaining members of this clan, but I don't think you can give me orders as you do with your daughter. I did stay at the hospital, but it wasn't because you said I should. You’re still young to be thinking like those old weaklings of the council.”

It was the first time Tomoe saw Tsunade offend elders, but she guessed the Shodai Hokage’s first grandchild had her reasons. Knowing Tsunade, it was a thing the woman couldn't change and had to deal with instead.

Itama breathed deeply as he looked down.

“I just don't understand why they had to demand something like this. You can judge me all you want, Tsunade. As a shinobi, I had to do what was right. But as a father, I wasn't keen on handing my own daughter to the heir of that clan.”

“You just think like your father, my surly uncle, did. Do you really think marrying her to Itachi was the worst thing you both did to her?” Tsunade didn't scoff, but it sure felt like she did. “He’s fulfilling his side of the agreement; there was no reason for him or the Uchihas not to welcome her, despite her being a Senju. In the end, you know the problem was never them. Danzo is the council. They’re just a bunch of old people with their old convictions in useless traditions.”

“But there was a real chance the Uchihas would rebel against Konoha. There was a reason why Itachi was given the mission to wipe out his own clan.”

The first time Tomoe heard it, the words didn't really sink in. Itachi’s face flashed in her mind along with all his good actions despite his coldness towards her—the wools for the chicken nests, the lack of discomfort about her bringing people in, the understanding of her adapting time, the way he used his own clothes to protect the hen house from the heavy rain; even his silent appreciation of her delicacies.

A man who saved her twice wouldn't be capable of even considering slaughtering his own family, right? No reason in the world would make him do that.

Just as she had faced the archway earlier, Tomoe faltered a step back.

What does it have to do with our marriage? She sought in her brain any coincidence. Anything that would explain why she wasn't worthy of coming back home before her fate was sealed with Uchiha Itachi. There was none.

This was the truth they were hiding from her, so. The passport to her return wasn't her parents’ desire for her to be back.

Suddenly, Minori’s voice sounded as calm as ever. Tsunade understood why, then, besides also being a Uzumaki, Kushina always said they were so different from each other. 

“You can come out from behind the door, Tomoe.”

Chapter Text

“You will awaken the Sharingan too, Tsubaki,” Takada frowned, though she couldn't say if she felt pleased with the idea.

Tsubaki had been a lot quieter the following days of the attack. It had been quite a surprise when Itachi showed up at the safe house, giving Tomoe a piggyback ride and Takada guarding the couple, bright red Sharingan awakened and activated. Though the Dojutsu was still in the early stages, Itachi was still relieved.

But now that Takada knew the emotional charge required to awaken the Dojutsu, she wasn't sure about having a remaining desire for her sister’s awakening. She wondered if there was a way Tsubaki could get strong enough to surpass the liability she had towards the Sharingan as a Uchiha. 

Between the reconstruction of their family’s flower shop and the affected houses in the District, Takada saw her sister training nonstop in hopes of awakening a power only conceived through damage and pain. She didn't want that for her sister.

Is there even a way to awaken the Sharingan without pain or distress?

Ayame had made it clear there was no competition between sisters—there was no reason they should feel like the other existed just as a hindrance to being surpassed. To their parents, they were already great ninjas, Sharingan or not.

Tsubaki sighed, keeping her steps at the same pace as Takada’s. “You said you were with Itachi-san. Maybe I should ask him to teach me like you did with Shisui-san.”

“Itachi-san?”

“Takada-chan, Tsubaki-chan,” the Uchiha heir materialized in front of them, per Tsubaki’s point of view. The girls stopped in their tracks as Itachi nodded his head towards them, even though they were just kids. “Have you seen Tomoe?”

The twins looked up at Itachi almost from behind their hitai-ates. Itachi smirked, though it went unnoticed by the twins. Every time he saw the children from his clan being just children, he felt a portion of the relief Sasuke brought to his life—and also got reminded that they were able to carry that seldom peace for that long.

Tomoe’s favorable answer to the marriage proposal.

The Uchiha clan had always been balancing on a tightrope for a long time. Uchiha Itachi’s wife was the one to blast off the rope. As long as she lived beside him, his younger brother’s and all his loved ones’ efforts wouldn't go to waste.

“She didn't come to help at the flower shop today, Itachi-san,” Takada said as Tsubaki scratched the back of her head, not knowing about Tomoe’s absence because of her own absence at the shop earlier.

Itachi frowned. She had left for some time now.

“Did something happen?” asked Tsubaki.

“Nothing to worry about.”

Tsunade had dismissed Tomoe’s help at the hospital following Orochimaru’s attack, which meant she shouldn't be there unless she insisted—likely to happen since she refused to stay at home and helped a lot around the Uchiha District. Or unless Tsunade should know. She was supposed to rest and recover to avoid further concussions.

Itachi sighed at realizing what tenacious a wife he had. She left him with a birthday cake, dangos, and a secretive aura in the early afternoon and still wasn't back until almost dawn.

He thanked the twins and watched them go on their merry way, signing again. He fished the old necklace out of the bottom of his pocket, where he had put it after finding out Tomoe had taken it off for the first time since he gave it to her. It was perched on his futon.

Their silence was ruthless, and the shoji door slid like a knife through thin air. Tomoe knew Tsunade was never someone to speak in such situations, but when she looked down at the blonde woman she had looked up to in her younger years, she saw a face devoid of emotions, and no cue of any conversation she might’ve started.

This was when she knew everything she heard was nothing but the truth that hit her like a adrift train.

Tomoe’s eyes leaped to her father, then to her mother, and then she repeated the action until they could start to explain, but neither did. Her fists closed and slightly opened, then closed again, as if they could not only help her keep the confusing emotions at bay but also help the words sink in.

“…What… were you talking about?”

The three gaped at Tomoe as if her presence at the Senju Estate was an otherworldly occasion.

“Tomoe…”

“I asked,” she embedded a substantial undertone in her voice—pausing to get the point driven home, “ what were you talking about?”

Tsunade got up in silence and bowed to the couple on the table at the center of the tearoom, “I believe this is a matter I should not participate in.” The blonde swiftly maneuvered her way around the table to stop at Tomoe’s side before exiting the room. “I’m sorry I didn't do much for you, kid.”

Tomoe watched as her parents stayed in the same position by the low table. If a hairpin should fall in the master bedroom, perhaps it could be heard from there. Minori was the first to move, not looking anywhere other than Tomoe’s red eyes.

Their only daughter's resemblance to one Senju Tobirama never ceased to amaze them—especially when Tomoe frowned. Even without Nidaime Hokage’s remarkable characteristics, such as silver hair and red markings, such a resemblance was so strong that people could see it. However, Tomoe hardly said who she was related to. The photo at the Hokage Tower was enough proof of her heritage.

“Our relationship had been so rocky ever since I came back to Konoha, and, deep down, I always wondered why, though I was afraid to ask, and I didn't know why I felt this.”

“Why don’t you sit down with us?” Minori silently questioned. “We don't plan on hiding anything anymore. It was never our desire.”

“I don't feel like sitting. Something tells me if I do, this conversation will be delayed yet again,” Tomoe’s voice wavered, but after almost a year into the situation dried her eyes. She wouldn't cry until she got what she sought. “If not telling me was truly never your desire, then why do I feel this isn’t the truth?”

“We did hide things,” Itama came in. “But it was never entirely our choice.”

“Then what the hell kept you from telling me the truth behind my marriage?”

“The same reason Uchiha Itachi also didn't tell you anything.”

“But why would he tell me almost slaughtered the Uchiha?” Her parents hesitated. Tomoe, enraged, “Stop beating around the bush!”

“He wouldn't because Konoha’s council didn't want more people to know the truth,” said Minori. “Uchiha Itachi was given a mission when he was still a teenager. A mission his younger brother prevented from being accomplished, as you’re married to him now. We don’t know what happened between them in depth, but his brother saved them.”

“…Sasuke-kun?”

Minori nodded, “After the Third Great Shinobi War ended, the Sandaime Hokage planned to retire—and had two names quoted for the title of Yondaime.”

“Namikaze Minato and Orochimaru,” Itama added.

“But never once was Uchiha Fugaku’s name mentioned by the council, despite being the head of a noble clan and also to the Military Police Force. Fugaku never said a word about it, and suspicion arose from his silence. Itachi was an Anbu-nin at the time. The youngest captain under the direct command of the Hokage.”

Tomoe recalled hearing something like that in the past. Itachi had a great reputation as simply a genius from a noble clan.

“He was working as a double agent, too.”

The man they were portraying was just starkly different from the man Tomoe had been learning to know for about a year. She shook her head.

“Why would Itachi do this?”

“The Uchiha were planning a coup d’état, and Itachi warned the Hokage and the council. He and Uchiha Shisui tried what they could to stop the imminent civil war, but things were escalating too fast for the two teenagers to balance, no matter how powerful they had become.”

“But how does this explain the slaughter? Our marriage?” Tomoe was troubled.

“It was either Konoha or the Uchihas,” Minori sighed. “It still is. You’re the only thing that proves they hold no grudge against the village…”

“This is as far as we know about the reason why Konoha’s council declared Itachi, as the future head of the Uchiha, should marry strategically to guarantee their position and validate their word. The Senju would be their choice, of course. Both clans have a very long history together, so this was established as a means to prove to the council the Uchihas wouldn't rebel anymore.”

“I’m sure Itachi has much more to say,” Itama finished, unreasonable to his daughter. He could see it even though she said nothing. “We were promised by his family and himself that you would be safe next to him, living with the Uchihas—after all, they were the only clan powerful enough to take down an entire village. To Konoha, your union is a guarantee of their word.”

None of what they had said made sense to Tomoe at all. She tried to link whoever her parents described to be a broken man, but not a single characteristic matched the man she had been living with for about a year. Itachi was cold and distant, and most certainly didn't love her as the woman who provided everything he needed at home should be loved. And she wouldn't be mad that he didn't because she felt nothing when they married. But Tomoe couldn’t see him as a traitor of that level either—he didn't hide when he stayed at Naka River with his lover, though they didn't do anything; he quietly showed he wasn't inclined to break Tomoe’s trust time and time again. The arrangement was bestowed upon them as a non-negotiable opinion. It wounded her pride to finally admit it did hurt her after all, but even with the hefty injured pride, Tomoe’s empathy made itself heavier.

Now that a year had passed and she could replay the tape over and over again to that very moment, it always paused at the same part—the part where she found out there was not a chance they could build their love. And realizing it hurt more than the silence kept all that time.

“So… you handed me to a failed marriage just so the councilors would believe the Uchihas wouldn’t plan another coup against Konoha?” Tomoe did not get an answer beyond silence, but to her, silence had long become an answer. Her voice faltered, “Did you— did you even know he was in love with someone else? That he most certainly would marry her?”

Itama and Minori shared a glance, “We heard word of it.”

They knew.

Tomoe closed her fists until the knuckles were white. She tried to control the injection of adrenaline into her blood with ragged breaths, and whatever she failed to put into words came out as hot tears cascading down her cheeks.

“I believed in both of your judgments when you said it was dangerous for me to stay here in my home, with everyone I knew, during the war. I kept telling myself that you knew what was best for me; that my parents abdicated years of participating in my life because they wanted to keep me safe, but what can I say now? You gave me to a man who was in love with another, and you knew. You knew there was a high chance he wouldn't ever allow himself to feel something for me.”

“Tomoe…” Minori tried.

“No!” Tomoe wailed. “You kept me away from the shinobi world, then suddenly you ask me to come back to use me like this? After years of abandonment—”

“We didn't abandon you,” Itama stepped in.

“It sure felt like abandonment to me!” Tomoe started to feel her heart hurt again, but didn't move a muscle. She knew if she showed signs of pain, they would interrupt the talk immediately—and she hadn't finished. “Everything Itachi did years ago wasn't that enough?!”

“It should be. We wanted to tell you,” her mother murmured. “But the councilors forbade us from doing so. It was confidential, and no one other than the Sandaime Hokage and some of the Uchihas should know.”

“You can say whatever you want. It will not stop me from thinking you did not tell me because you knew I would have opposed it if I had known,” Tomoe gave them her back, only turning half of her tear-stained face to them when she reached the door and opened it. The pain was making it hard to breathe. “I’d have spent my entire life on Tetsu no Kuni.”

“We understand, Tomoe. You can despise us. Sometimes I dislike the person I was when I made the decision,” Itama’s words were sincere, Tomoe could say, because it was her father. And he made sure to look her in the eyes. “But this wouldn't make Itachi a free man. Everything that happened would come back to haunt him one way or another because he was born a Uchiha. Marrying you was probably the best thing that could have happened to him, and I’m sure he thinks the same.”

She left with no more words to say. Truthfully, as she walked hurriedly so she could reach her old childhood bedroom, Tomoe thought she had talked much more than her parents deserved. Her right hand covered her mouth, hindering the sobbing sounds that fought to come out. She could barely see ten feet ahead through her teary vision, and it was one time she wished to possess something akin to the Dojutsu her husband wielded. Tomoe found her old childhood bedroom and crashed on the futon.

The night arrived soon, and she only had a blurred vision and a pain in the chest she could not possibly have clarified to anyone if asked. The pain was a mixture, different from what she experienced before.

Sometime after Tomoe realized the sun had set, it started to rain.

When the feeling subsided to nothing more than quiet sobs, Tomoe felt her consciousness drifting away. Behind closed lids, she saw three tomoes spinning in an ocean of red. As if Itachi had cast genjutsu on her, the only thing she kept seeing was his red eyes, on and on until her lids were too heavy to open again.

Eventually, she woke up a few hours later. The spinning tomoes Tomoe saw falling asleep morphed into raven dark clouds reflecting her tempestuous nightmares. She blinked some tears away, slowly sitting on the futon as Itachi quietly observed. None of them said a word for a minute. Itachi had hoped Tomoe would initiate conversation, but she confusingly refused to meet his eyes. He saw her recoiling from him as if he carried a contagious disease.

“What is going on?” Itachi felt like he was asking that question too many times, though sometimes he never voiced it out loud. “I’ve been looking for you for some time. You left the necklace at home.”

“I came here for a reason, and depending on the answer I would get, I didn't want you to find me.”

Itachi inhaled and exhaled, still the weight persisted. It was nothing he couldn't carry, but he had realized that was the thing about the ninja world. There were burdens men like him would carry for a lifetime and maybe even after. Itachi felt like a bad guy for agreeing to drag Tomoe into the situation.

“This much I could tell, but since I couldn't know where you were, I had no choice but to come for you.” 

I had no choice.

Tomoe started to cry again, leaving no choice but for Itachi to watch in silence and compassion. There was no need for her to tell him the reason behind her tears—it was a sentiment he genuinely shared with her.

For the first time, Itachi permitted himself to admit how his wife was much more like him than he thought. Even more than his past lover, he saw in Tomoe’s sunken frame and pained cries a resemblance he unconsciously sought in someone.

Chapter Text

Tomoe had been sitting on the engawa quietly. Her deep red hair, centimeters above the shoulder line, ricocheted with the wind. It wasn't as if she was ignoring him; instead, her straight posture and lack of motion for some time proved she was too deep in thought to acknowledge his presence.

Itachi paused, holding a metallic tray full of onigiris, beholding the scene before he could cross the threshold. Tomoe wasn’t crying before she sensed his presence; he was sure. And for some time, he was unsure. Itachi hesitated, and the next second, he hesitated to hesitate. Because he had been doing this for too long, and it only brought pain to the only person who should, at the very least, feel safe and at peace.

His eyes fell upon her when he realized she wasn’t looking up at him. Tomoe’s big, bright red eyes constantly reminded him of his own Sharingan. It was truly ironic that they held no power, not visible at least. With their insensitivity, Itachi realized they could hold more than chakra power. He took his first step, and those red eyes didn't leave whatever they were looking at until the space at her side was occupied by a silver tray of onigiris and a husband willing to let his wife go at the expense of his future if that would make her happy.

It had been some time since the last time he had seen her smile.

“I learned something very crucial from Sasuke a few years ago,” he said and paused, learning to read her like a half-closed book, reaching for it before it could close, and he lost the right pages, “that I should trust the ones closest to me, and share the burdens that weigh my mind instead of thinking that keeping a distance will protect them.”

“Distancing is nothing more than a widespread way of being a coward.” It wasn't her intention to offend him. Perhaps, a few years back in time, he would’ve disagreed. But the man sitting beside Tomoe was wiser. Though he didn't know the details of her woe, he could recognize its weight. “It can't guarantee the ones you care about will be safe. And if they’re safe from others, they might not be safe from themselves.”

Sasuke’s occasional smiles flashed in Itachi’s mind. The short film he saw compelled him to answer, “You’re right. There was a time I believed I could protect my brother from everything, even from himself.”

“So was everything in the name of protection? What about yourself in all of this?” she quietly questioned, but Itachi could sense her misgiving in getting an answer. “I see Sasuke is a strong young man; your past efforts were based on the bond you share. But what do we share? If we don't share a bond, then I’m inclined to think you see me as a weak woman who needs protection.”

The tray of onigiris sat quietly between both, yet the distance it occupied felt larger than a tray’s measurements. Walking to each other would feel like walking through whole universes, but it was like they could also feel a presence inside the voidâ€- each other’s voice, keeping each other company. It felt strange, but also warm. Itachi felt like he was talking to some version of himself, the one who misjudged and bestowed him with the title of insufficient, no matter how hard he tried to navigate life. Tomoe felt like she sat, bare, beside the one who could see her even if she covered every inch of her body; his eyes could see every little weak spot, everything she tried to hide away, all the aspects other people couldn't see because she hid them well.

“Is it wrong to need protection? Though I've never misjudged you, I don't think it is.” He paused. “Even though you’re not a kunoichi, you can protect yourself. But if you couldn't, you wouldn't be anything less. And I won't lie and say I wasn't worried about your safety because you aren't a ninja.”

“You have a way with words,” she admitted. “But I’m afraid they won't repair any damage made by all the hiding. I’m just mad about this whole situation, mad that I can't even blame you, or can't find anyone to blame. My whole life was a constant, and then all of a sudden I got swarmed.”

“Then let me at least try to make it a little more bearable by telling you things I didn't. When I told you I was at Naka River with Izumi the night you got attacked at home, I didn't say what we were doing because I wasn't sure if you were aware of the reason we were married in the first place, which felt odd. I pride myself on being a forward-thinking individual, but the truth is that I chose to be blind.” It sounded and even felt like he was done, but hearing his words summed up just to make him feel stupid. Itachi took another pause. “I was alone, but Izumi came in and I told her why I couldn't wed her. She didn't know. The council was very clear about who should or should not.”

“It means I was on the list of who shouldn't?”

“The council assumed you already knew, and since you accepted the marriage proposal, you’d keep quiet about everything.”

“I wasn't proposed,” Tomoe murmured before she realized. “I received a letter from my parents that said they had found a suitor for me.”

“The fault is on me. I should’ve given you a ring at least, introduced myself properly.”

For a reason unknown to her, Tomoe’s heart did a little leap in her chest.

“It’s fine. Everybody knows we are married anyway.”

Itachi nodded, not because he believed it was fine for her not to have a ring, but about the truth that the entire village knew they were married. Perhaps they knew before she arrived. Itachi was a pretty well-known man, and the unmarried young ladies certainly had a type. Especially the ones in a hidden village.

“Though I don't have a ring on me now, I have another thing to give. I’m sure you want to know about the whole story from my point of view.”

Tomoe’s silence was the answer Itachi waited for, instead of a nod or even a sound. He told her everything that had happened since the first time he overheard his father with Yashiro, Inabi, and Tekka talking about the names said by Sandaime Hokage and Konoha’s council. What led to his years spying on his own clan, the double-edged sword he had to carry that didn't offer him good choices. His near defection; Shisui’s attempted murder by Shimura Danzo; Sasuke getting involved; a third option arising amidst his internal conflict; the quarrel with his father and how his advisors still weren't satisfied with the decision to stop the coup; how everything seemed peaceful for a few years but turned its axis when Namikaze Minato was officially named Yondaime Hokage and the council decided the Uchiha, as a clan, were enough of a suspicion again.

Yet a name wasn't mentioned, and Tomoe took notice as she patiently listened to the history. It was all too hard to believe and yet so real that it made her introspection hazy. In the middle of the smoke around her head, Tomoe could see a person she wanted badly to free from her thoughts, but she tried; that person stood there unmoving since the day on the Senju estate.

“You were very apathetic at the announcement dinner, and though I don't have much experience, I could tell you had a lover.” This made Itachi look at her, and she did too. “I met Izumi-san at Obito and Rin’s wedding when I went for a walk. I was sad and also confused, but I couldn't put a finger on it.” Itachi kept silent. Tomoe went on, “It wasn't entirely about our situation that I felt those thingsâ€.”I held a grudge against my parents all this time. It all came crashing down when I heard everything.” The oddly comfortable feeling of sharing her deepest feelings with Itachi felt warm in Tomoe’s chest. Though they weren't used to sharing, it was nice to have someone to listen to her. Their bidding felt real. 

Tomoe’s voice got lower, however, as she shared something that made her more vulnerable to him, “But I won't lie and say that I wasn't upset to know that my husband might never be able to be my husband instead of somebody else’s lover. To be honest, what you did in the past doesn't faze me at all, Itachi-san. I’d agree to marry you even if I knew everything about your past.” She then displayed a forlorn smile and wrinkled the dress’s fabric between her fingers. “Knowing that you had Izumi-san is another story. I’d never agree if I knew. I feel like a busybody, and I hope you know that I’m just… I’m not this kind of person.”

Itachi blinked, not too invested in hiding his stun. It took some time for him to understand what happened, what he heard, and how he initially thought things would go. The words didn't come back to him until Tomoe’s eyes were back on him againâ€,” and for the first time, he didn't know how he could hold eye contact. So he focused on the hen house, and the imagery of colorful nests flooded his mind. 

“If I didn't say a word to Sasuke, I could have sided with Konoha and wiped out the clan before Izumi and I even had a chance. It all led me not to wed her anyway. Even if I had sided with the clan, a civil war was at our door. If we didn't kill each other, then invasions from the other hidden villages would have done the job, and nothing would guarantee we would be alive then.”

“What does that mean?”

Itachi took a deep breath and blinked slowly, “Fighting was inevitable until you came. Izumi is alive only because you accepted me as a husband. Those words may be hard to believe, but they are the truth. I should’ve trusted you to carry this weight with me instead of pushing you away like a stray dog.” Her attention was caught, red eyes on him again. “I was ragged that night, and I regret it. I failed in a lot of things, and I kept failing.”

Tomoe’s eyes shot up, astonished and speechless at Itachi’s confession. She blinked, once, twice, until she was convinced it wasn't a byproduct of her fantasies. The dreams of her lonely nights were her only companion when Itachi refused to sleep close. She could swear she had seen that same scene happen before in her dreams, but in the end, she always woke up to an empty futon by her side, with the reminder of why it was empty.

“So if you change your mind about this marriage, I won't put the burden of saving this clan from the prejudice on your shoulders. You don't owe me anything because I’m your husband.” His words weighed heavily on closure. “But if by some chance you still want to stay, I hope to make things different.”

Was it what Tomoe wanted? She wanted to say no. She wanted to reject the idea that she might’ve been wanting whatever he was implying all along. But the word died on her tongue and suffocated in the bile forming there, which she gulped down like a thousand fishbones. How could she say she didn't want things to be different? As much as she somehow saved the Uchiha, Uchiha Itachi also saved her. He gave her another chance to come back home. He brought her out of the cold of Tetsu no Kuni, where she always sat looking at the white horizon, where nothing seemed to change as snow covered her entire body and froze her soul.

And he was a man after all. And she was a woman.

Tomoe accepted Itachi as a husband, but Itachi also had to accept her, and the loss weighing on his side was much greater than hers. She didn't have someone on her mind that she could think of coming back home to until she was married, unlike him.

Nevertheless, it was the first time Itachi made her heart race to the point the sound of the heartbeats muted everything else—so different from when he said he was failing as a husband and would try to be better. 

It gave her hope. She would rather not think about what this hope was for.

“I am also a Uchiha now.”

It was a question because Tomoe wasn't the only one who should accept the other party. She had already accepted Itachiâ€, and he did understand the hidden query. Uchiha Tomoe was also a part of the clan. Whatever was on their backs was also her burden to carry.

“You are.”

A silent agreement based on the acceptance of where Tomoe stood. Even if their marriage ended, she would still feel like one of them and look out for them. Itachi was glad it wasn’t another thing he had to worry about.

“That being said, things don't have to essentially change between us,” Tomoe said quietly. “But I would like to coexist with someone I know by heart.” She cleared her throat, then, “After I’m done at the hospital, I take walks on the outskirts and go see the trees that blossomed in the spring. Join me.”

Itachi was aware that she went for walks and where she was most of these walks because he could feel his chakra emanating from his necklace. But he didn't tell Tomoe this.

“Whenever I can, I will,” he said instead. “You’d like the West part of this land. There are flower fields and a small fishermen’s village by the beach that faces Kirigakure.”

Tomoe immediately looked at him with a surprised look on her face. 

“Have you been there?!” She blushed at how fast her interest spiked. It was like the conversation they were having suddenly wasn't about the chance of ending their marriage, albeit Itachi still seemed aloof to her. She cleared her throat. “Hm… have you been there, Itachi-san?”

To Tomoe’s surprise, the corner of Itachi’s mouth twitched slightly. “I have, a few times.” Then he looked at her and said matter-of-factly, “We can go there someday.”

While making peace with how things turned out doesn't mean the heart doesn't want what it wants, he had so pretentiously mimicked her words that it made her chest flutter, regardless of not knowing the outcome of his feelings towards Izumi. Another voice emerged inside her that kept all the other voices down, despite having said to her parents that the marriage was doomed to failure.

“You know, despite having heard a lot about you, it was truly challenging to learn that you are quite enigmatic.”

“There wasn't a time that I remember not being like this,” Itachi offered a sheepish smile. “Sorry for giving you a headache.” 

“One of the first conclusions I made when I found out about what happened was that you were like this because you went through it all,” Tomoe let out a little laugh, more like shaking than anything. 

“It’s only natural,” Itachi remarked. He also noticed the conversation ran its course the same way water runs in a river. Naturally. It didn't feel like the other conversations they had. But this was another observance Itachi kept to himself. 

Tomoe cleared her throat again, making sure wherever she was looking, it was not even remotely in his direction.

“I was curious to know if there was another version of you before everything.”

Itachi could understand her query. He probably would think the same if the roles were reversed.

“Hn. Most certainly a more immature version.” There was nothing left to say about it. This was what he truly thought about himself. 

“Do you think what you did was right? Wasn't there really another way?”

That was a good question, one nobody had ever asked Itachi before.  And if he was to be thoroughly honest with himself, he didn't know the answer. He wouldn't know perhaps until his deathbed.

“I don't think a man knows who he truly is until the moment he faces death, so I can't say what I did was right or wrong. Maybe I’d be wrong in whichever decision I took, but I can't tell, and I can't change what is done either.”

Tomoe knew he was a pacifist even if he didn't ever say he was. The proof is that he tried countless times to make fighting the last way of winning. He chose to give up a life with Izumi, whether in reality or illusion, and Sasuke’s innocence and faith in humanity.

“But if there was any other way—”

But an uncommon noise coming from outside cut the longest conversation they had short, right when a side of Tomoe hiding in the shadows of her feelings was about to get the resolution it craved.

The craven side of herself chose to take the reins as she heard infant whispers coming from the nearest tree.

“I told you to be quiet!”

“I was quiet!”

“Whatever. Deactivate it! You have a Sharingan, not a Byakugan!”

Takada and Tsubaki lowered themselves near the henhouse, on the other side of the little pond, mindful not to startle the animals. Their time in the Academy was still short, but their landing on the ground was for sure more graceful than before April, courtesy of their mindful learning of chakra control. The henhouse was still quiet once their feet touched the ground, and the fish in the pond were still swimming peacefully.

Not Itachi or Tomoe got up from the engawa, but the latter’s smile was welcoming whilst Itachi kept an unreadable expression on his face, like he always did in the presence of youngsters and even some adults.

“Girls, what are you doing here? Does Ayame-san know?”

The way the twins bounced on their feet and avoided eye contact told Tomoe and Itachi what they wanted to know.

“It’s been a while since we saw you here in the District, and Itachi-san came to us and asked if we had seen you! We were worried, Tomoe-san!”

“Oh…”

It didn't occur to Tomoe that someone would notice her absence. Amongst the turmoil of the last revelations, she forgot maybe the girls missed their long afternoons and that not every Uchiha thought about her as an outsider. Takada and Tsubaki were too young to understand the implications of her presence in the District, but needless to say, their feelings toward her absence were more than enough to bring a sincere smile to her face.

Tomoe wasn't aware of Itachi’s observant eyes on her, or that he noticed she looked tired, not only on that occasion but ever since he found her at her parents’ house. He cleared his throat, catching three very big, curious eyes turning to him.

“I think Tomoe needs to rest now.”

“But it’s still too early to go to sleep! We just got off the Academy!”

Takada shook her head in agreement with her twin sister, “We even saw Sasuke-kun and Sakura-chan on our way here.”

“Did you?”

“We did!” said Tsubaki, avoiding eye contact with Itachi. “They were holding hands.”

Itachi could only imagine Sasuke’s cheeks as red as a tomato if he ever heard that conversation.

“That’s cute,” Tomoe smiled and said, “but I really need to rest now, girls.”

The girls, unsatisfied with just a short time and heavily contradicted, left between murmurs, with Itachi making sure they went on their merry way home. Tomoe Showere, and when she was done, feeling like a huge weight went down the drain, Itachi was quietly waiting in the kitchen with a kettle on the stove and one single teacup on the table. Tomoe’s hair was still too short to tie up, so she used the necessity to dry the red strands as what she hoped to be a subtle way to look anywhere but him, hiding her red cheeks.

If he asked, she’d say it was just the hot shower. But he didn't. Yet his kekkei genkai was merely an extension of himself—Itachi didn't need the Sharingan to notice things his ordinary eyes could.

He even thought it might’ve been good to ask her what she meant by what she was going to ask before Takada and Tsubaki appeared, because he didn't forget and let it go unnoticed, but decided against it. It was a conversation for another time.

“Warm tea might help you to sleep better.”

Chapter Text

A lot of things happened the days before Itachi decided to take Tomoe on a trip to the southwestern border of the land for her birthday, besides her undeniable surprise at his proposition. 

(Not that she could straight up have said no to him, but she undeniably felt like a deer caught in headlights as she gave him a positive answer.)

One of those things was the talk of Rin being pregnant. 

The other was that Tomoe was also in the same boat since she wasn't seen around the Uchiha District for several days in a row, barely bathing in sunlight at her engawa and being caught by Tsubaki and Takada. Unbeknownst to the clansmen, the reason behind her sudden disappearance only reached a few people’s ears—and only Tomoe was caught off-guard. So the rumors started to run wild, ignited by the pregnancy air surrounding the young wedded women of the clan.

But very unlike Tomoe, Rin was, in fact, pregnant.

After Obito’s extraordinarily exciting report to the clan head, all that was left to the Uchiha was to wrestle with the chance of an heir to the future clan head, Itachi. Tomoe was at the center of a hurricane, but she didn't give the rumors enough significance and left Itachi the duty to deny everything if questioned. She was rather reticent about the rumors and coaxed herself into feeling like she didn't want to deal with it at that time.

Inside the walls of the bedroom she still slept alone in, the story was different. The thoughts of a child that would never know the shinobi world like their father and abandonment like their mother swept her mind into a heavy sleep most nights that followed.

Would her child have red hair, gifted by her Uzumaki heritage, and the Sharingan like Itachi? Or would the child have dark hair like the Uchiha, and ordinary red eyes like Nidaime Hokage’s heritage to her? Would he or she have the same long lashes as their father? Who would they resemble more? Or would the traits be so mixed it would be impossible to tell, as a perfect harmony of their parents in just one child?

“…Tomoe?”

The sudden call of her name startled Tomoe.

“Oh—!” She didn't know how things escalated like that. “Itachi…”

Itachi blinked. Tomoe wondered if his child would have the same eye shape—because she liked his eyes. Those eyes lay between elegant yet strong, icy when black yet looking like fire when red. The contrast was a pulling force Tomoe fought consciously.

“Is everything ready?”

It was Tomoe’s turn to blink. Excessively, to remind her all of her being needed to come back down to earth.

“Ah, yes. I was just grabbing my katana.”

The sound of air coming out of Itachi’s nostrils brought Tomoe’s eyes back to him. His face was still unreadable, but his hands showed with palms up.

“There’s no need to bring a katana to where we’re going, but if you want to bring it, I can seal it with our things.” He was very considerate.

“Well, you’re bringing a kunai and shurikens, aren't you?”

“I am,” Itachi said shortly as old habits die hard, though he had been trying not to cut the conversations short now. “But this is not my birthday. You’re not the one who should worry about our safety.”

“You make it seem like we’re going to war.”

The corner of Itachi’s lips twitched as Tomoe got up, putting the katana back where it was kept. During the time she avoided going outside, their relationship had improved enough to be considered amicable. Divorce was unspokenly off the hooks, and so was having no kind of camaraderie.

“We’re not.”

Itachi made a couple of hand seals Tomoe was too distracted to notice, thinking if something important was left out of the list. He then squatted next to the luggage, sealing it away as everything disappeared in a puff of white smoke. Tomoe decided everything was already set for the trip.

It was going to be a breath of fresh air.

“Everything is ready.”

She nodded. It had been weeks since she spoke with her parents and even her conversations with Tsunade at the Hospital weren't the same. Itachi noticed, quiet as he was, and wondered if every other birthday Tomoe had was the same with nothing new. She didn't mention anything, and it wasn't needed. Getting away for a little while should at least make her forget about the predicament she had been forced into, and clear her thoughts enough for her to see the other sides of the situation, which Itachi himself thought were wrong.

He just wanted her to have a little while for herself, and by default, he too would get away from the rumors of an heir. His mother, brother, and father hadn't said anything about the matter, and they knew if he was to be a father, they’d be the first ones he went to. Still, he saw the way Mikoto gave him a once-over in his last visit, knowing her son like the palm of her hand, vouching he had nothing to say about what was being said. Sasuke was the same. Fugaku was in silence when Itachi showed up at the Military Police headquarters, but he knew his father better than the advisors who spent all day by his side.

That quick escape would be a blessing to him as well.

Reaching Konoha’s gates, Itachi didn't wait to be too far to get on one knee, with his back to Tomoe. Face hidden by the white traveling cloak, she hesitated. He didn't mention anything about a piggyback ride—and being who he was, Itachi patiently and also very silently waited for Tomoe to hop on.

Her mind was in a cacophony of sounds she didn't even process to utter.

“You have to get on my back. If we travel at your pace, we’re not gonna make it there in time.”

“In time for what?” Tomoe didn't know much about the city—if it was busy at that time of the year, or if it didn't offer enough places to sleep. 

“We might not find a good place to sleep.”

“I didn't know the city was this busy.”

“At this time of the year, yes.”

Whatever it was, she quietly sought support on his shoulders before flexing her knees, her front meeting Itachi’s back before he hooked the back of both her knees in his hands and raised from the ground.

Tomoe held her breath and almost fell, if not for Itachi’s firm grip on her legs and her grabbing of his cloak.

“Hold on tight.” Itachi’s choice of words didn't help the hot feeling on her cheeks go away, if not, they just made it worse. “It’s going to be fast.”

For what was the matter, he was not lying. Itachi announced a little break after what felt like ten minutes when more than half of the morning had already flown by. Tomoe had packed two boxes of onigiris and one small box of dangos. They found the comforting shadow of a high tree, where they sat, and Itachi unsealed the boxes wrapped in a small cloth with the Uchiha crest embroidered.

Lunch was silent apart from the sound of nature and chewing, but not uncomfortable.

Itachi sealed the things back when it was time to move again. The food was settled in their stomachs and they were ahead in their time.

“I haven’t seen Shisui around much lately…” Tomoe murmurs as she wraps her arms around Itachi’s neck again, distracting her mind from his warm hands on the back of her knees.

“He’s busy with his team on a mission,” Itachi commented as he established a fast pace from tree to tree, then on land again. “He sends crows asking how you’re doing and the chickens too.”

Tomoe opened a smile he couldn’t see, hidden by the back of his head.

“He’s kind.”

Itachi wouldn't ever disagree with that. Something at his core jumped, pressuring his ribcage into an uncomfortable sensation. He was never someone to be after recognition but he realized Tomoe had never once used such words to refer to him, and deep down he waited patiently for her to change her concept. More so after he planned their trip, because he was trying.

You never get a second chance to make a good first impression, is what people say. Itachi realized he couldn't blame Tomoe if she never did change the idea she had about him.

They arrived by noon. The town was lit and busy, to Tomoe’s surprise. It was bigger than what she had pictured in her mind, though the smell of salty air could be noticed from where they were.

Itachi guided her to a small welcoming hotel by the end of the venue, where the smell of the beach was even stronger. A few people were in the room, chatting quietly as Itachi approached the counter with Tomoe in toe.

“Hello!” The man behind the counter greeted them joyfully, the biggest smile Tomoe had ever seen on his face. “Welcome to Hirai Hotel! My name is Hirai. How can I help you?”

“Thank you, Hirai-san,” Tomoe smiled back.

Itachi bowed respectfully. “Are there two rooms available?”

“Oh, well,” the man scratched his beard, looking between both of them with suspecting eyes. Itachi wondered if it was normal for a man in his profession, who had certainly known a thing or two about strangers, to be so nosy. Tomoe tried not to give too much thought about what he was possibly thinking. “If it was any other season, you’d be luckier. We only have one room left.”

Tomoe gaped at the side of Itachi’s face, but his expression didn't waver. His answer to that was more surprising than his stoicism.

“We will stay.”

Tomoe then left Itachi to take care of the reservation in silence as she turned around to appreciate the furniture and painting. She didn't think about having to share a room with her husband before and she wasn't very keen to, since Itachi never showed he had intentions to change that. It was a sudden change.

The hotel’s furniture wasn’t fancy, but beautiful nonetheless, enough to catch a visitor’s attention.

Settling into a room smaller than the one they had at home was harder than Tomoe thought it would be. Mainly because she had never been in such proximity in a confined place with a man, let alone said man was Itachi, nonetheless, made her hands sweat on the futon’s fabric to the point her discomfort became audible as she sighed. Itachi didn't comment, but he did steal glances from the corner of his eyes.

Tomoe let go of a deep breath as she looked out the window. Itachi unsealed their things.

“I’ve noticed this crow has been following us since we left Konoha.”

Itachi looked at the window as he put his folded clothes near his futon. He realized she didn't know what it was about and the corner of his lips lifted. She couldn't see it. Itachi made the crow come to her.

“It is mine.”

“Yours?!” She had never looked back as fast as she did at that moment.

The crow morphed into nothing as Tomoe’s big red eyes followed the disappearing black smoke. Another one appeared by his shoulder, drawing her eyes to it. She noticed how Itachi looked different without his hitai-ate—just an ordinary man. Though very manly in an exquisite way. Sharp around the edges, but also delicate.

Her inclination to analyze every single aspect of Itachi’s physical attributes increased exponentially since their wedding.

The crow made a sound, bringing Tomoe back to reality. She blushed, looking down at Itachi’s white cloak by the wall behind him.

“I thought Shisui had this kind of genjutsu…”

“He does,” Itachi nodded as the crow disappeared again, reappearing on the window. “I learned a lot with him.”

“Well, I had no idea. I thought people had unique jutsus of their own…”

There were a lot of things they didn't know about each other—this thought crossed both their minds at the same time, but they didn't give them a try.

“Yondaime Hokage uses the same jutsu as one of your closest relatives.”

“Nidaime Hokage created it,” Tomoe crossed her legs. “It’s hard not to know about him when I’m here because of him,” she added. “Still, a crow genjutsu is very specific to me.”

“He did create a lot of jutsus,” Itachi added with a half-smile. “Nidaime Hokage-sama was truly a genius.”

To keep the conversation going, Tomoe recalled a matter she had yet to talk about with him. “You never said anything about what happened to my attacker…”

Itachi was surprised she took so long to ask something that involved her life. He didn't mention anything because the circumstances of their arrangement escalated pretty quickly, but it was a matter he considered important. Itachi was feeling pretty restless and the events that took place after only served him more restless thoughts.

“I didn't know when to say anything about it,” he looked at her. “I felt like there was never an ideal time to effectively talk about it.

“I don't think I’d receive the information quite well if you told me before,” Tomoe admitted. “And I don't think there would ever be a perfect time to talk about this if I have to be honest. Just like there wasn't for us to talk about… our marriage.”

“You didn't seem worried, then you went to your parents’ house and I felt like I threw this matter under the rug.”

“I just had a lot going on my mind…”

Itachi nodded with pursed lips. “I can understand. Yet,” he paused to get his point across, “your life is important too.”

Tomoe’s cheeks turned rosy and hotter, but it didn't phase Itachi enough for him to look somewhere else—she took matters into her hands and stared at the way the shoji door behind him wasn't completely closed. She had been the one to close it, something Itachi wouldn't let happen for sure if he had been the one to close it. Not that her little habits became a pet peeve to him. Itachi actually enjoyed noticing their differences.

“I guess the problem is solved then.”

By the way his face contorted into a grimace, Tomoe concluded the answer to that question was pessimistic.

“Shisui discovered who the attacker was amidst Orochimaru’s attack.” He gave her time to process. “The encounter didn't go well since the man tried to attack Shisui to free himself. It’s more complicated than that.We don't know his name, only that he belonged to an undercover Anbu organization.”

Tomoe frowned, “Is Shisui…”

“He’s alright. Physically at least. Mentally, he’s never truly okay with killing someone, no matter the circumstances. He’s just not that kind of guy.”

A moment of dead silence fell over the pair. Tomoe had to process the news. Even if she understood fully what it meant to be a shinobi, it also felt strange to think the same Shisui she met could kill a man, no matter if this nameless man tried to kill her beforehand.

“I hope he is okay…” she let the words die in her tongue because she didn't know what to say.

Shisui killed a man. Of course, she doubted if he was somehow alright with that with how much she had seen of his personality. Above all, he didn't seem like the kind of guy who would be okay with killing anyone.

Thankfully, Itachi understood her conflict. “There were many casualties, but I believe Danzo can imagine what happened. Proving we did it will just leave him in a tight spot with Yondaime-sama, and he won't risk anything more.”

Tomoe nodded, though she was realizing little by little that she wasn't very fond of important men’s businesses and thoughts. Yet a single word amongst Itachi’s words stood bright and red in her mind.

“Huh?”

She watched as her husband took a deep breath.

“If Shisui hadn't done it, I would have.”

Itachi was a peaceful man and this much Tomoe could say about him. She had casually seen how he treated their elderly neighbors; how his eyebrows wrinkled at the center of his forehead whenever he had to say no to children and even Sasuke. Itachi sheltered a gentle soul on his body, and that’s just who he was.

So his statement, though being so gentle and yet affirmation that he would’ve killed that man made her whole body heat up, combusting the oxygen around her, and so suddenly it became hard to breathe. In a desperate attempt to avoid her mind going places she didn't want it to go, Tomoe wrinkled the futon’s fabric between her fingers.

Itachi’s eyes found her tensed fingers before she could look away and act like his words didn't affect her. And if he wasn't just a man at his very core, perhaps he would’ve felt nothing at all. Yet he felt. The same electric discharge ran down his body as soon as his mind traveled to places yet to be explored. Itachi felt so out of his character that for a few seconds it made the tension between them increase exponentially, and what could’ve been nothing became too much even for him. 

The man who always thought ahead of his time simply felt stuck in a loop where only one scenario played on and on in his head.

She was as beautiful as he wasn't blind to notice…

Yet he felt so ashamed for even thinking about her the way he thought all he did was stare until the festival sounds became louder than the voices in his head, though Tomoe was his wife.

How come a conversation about her attacker became that?

“We should head out,” Itachi said finally, fighting to not . “You must be hungry. There’s a festival downtown.”

He saw the way Tomoe’s eyes lit and recalled the way Sakura always looked at his younger brother.

“I didn't go to as many festivals in my life.” She had been to one festival when she was a kid, in Konoha. “There was one in Tetsu no Kuni when the snow got thinner by the end of winter…” Tomoe let the story die on her tongue, thinking Itachi probably didn't want to hear about her lonely life away from their homeland. She was mildly surprised to see him looking at her with attentive eyes. “Still it was very cold so I didn't like to attend.”

“Did it remind you of Konoha?”

Tomoe was surprised he could catch on to it, “I guess so…”

The conversation died as both their stomachs started to hurt. When they passed by the hall, Hirai said he wouldn't offer dinner to them because they should try all the festival food. Tomoe smiled as she waved goodbye, followed by Itachi and his quiet aura, though that time around his features seemed lighter than she had ever seen before.

Festival food used to be Itachi’s favorite when he was growing up. It was still his favorite, but since he became an adult with more responsibilities and less time to enjoy things like that, it seemed even better than what he remembered. Sometimes, when Mikoto wasn't paying attention, Itachi would hand baby Sasuke a small piece of whatever he was eating just so his little brother wouldn't get choppy.

Itachi’s mouth was full of sweet dangos, but a voice in the back of his mind said the ones Tomoe made were better, sweet in the right measure to his taste.

Tomoe walked two steps ahead of him, looking attentively at all the tents along the avenue, holding a corn stick in one hand and a bag of trinkets in another. She had a small amount of red coloring smudged near her lips, but he said nothing and just smudged his face with the left dango on the stick purposefully. When Tomoe looked at him, she pointed it out—and he did with hers too.

“Oh!” She said before reaching the spot with her tongue. Itachi couldn't hold his chuckle at her face and did the same to clean his.

Tomoe found the reason why Itachi wanted so much to rush their arrival to the harboring city, when the clock struck midnight. People were enthusiastically making their way to the shore, some hand in hand like the couple in front of them, and some side by side like themselves. She followed the flow of the crowd, and unlike her Itachi knew what was happening. When the first fireworks exploded in purple and golden above their heads, he wasn't as surprised as her—though pleased just the same.

Itachi heard a gasp. A lot of gasps. Somehow he could discern the one that belonged to Tomoe. She was already looking at him when he looked at her—red eyes shining purple and green.

“Is this why you wanted to bring me here?”

Itachi nodded. “I thought you would like it.”

“I did,” Tomoe swerved her eyes back to the fireworks, murmuring, “I really did.” 

Itachi heard that loud and clear as if he was hearing her deepest thoughts. His hands were frigid so he flexed his fingers as a small smile of satisfaction twitched the corner of his lips.

The fireworks show lasted fifteen minutes. It was easy to follow the flow of the crowd again towards the end of the show. Already back at the hotel, the silence was comfortable, though the idea of sleeping in the same room was already nerve-wracking to Tomoe.

For a moment, she paused with the blanket in hands. Their futons were close. Itachi was turned to the wall, so she couldn't see what his reaction to the proximity was, nor read his face as if one single look was enough to decode his feelings. 

The truth is that she could reckon even if he was turned away from her. Reckoning it didn't quell nervousness though.

“Hum…”

He turned to her as if she had said his name. Not that he hadn't been nice before. Since the beginning, he cared enough to build a good house, allowed her to make it look like a lived-in place, bought wools even if her lessons with the twins took a pause, and kept his promise to not be anything but a good husband—stopping giving chances to see or stay with Izumi when he knew it was the life he gave up.

Still, Tomoe could see him tottering the borderline where his cold persona wasn't that cold. Itachi had always been a nice guy—but hearing his voice was like feeling ice melting in the palm of her hand lately.

“Yes?” he answered simply, attentively watching her face as it contorted into an uncertain grimace.

“Are we going…” she paused once she realized how it was going to sound. “I don’t even know how to say it…”

“Sleep?”

Tomoe cleared her throat, “in the same room.”

“We’re married.”

“But we never slept together!”

Was it a desire? Yes. Tomoe just wished Itachi wouldn’t make her vocalize something like the yearning on her thoughts. Finally realizing and admitting she felt attraction towards him was already a hard task itself.

“There weren't more rooms available.”

If she hadn't known him even a little bit, she’d say Itachi enjoyed her misery.

“I heard what Hirai-san said. I just haven't… really thought about this until now.”

He had a serious expression on his face and for the first time, Tomoe was annoyed by it.

“What is there to think about?”

Tomoe sighed. “We’ve been acting like we just share a common place until now and then, this.” She sighed again. “I guess I’m just overreacting because… nothing. Forget what I said.”

“Are you uncomfortable?” Itachi asked, guessing she would say yes. “Haven't you been this close with anyone before?”

The apples of Tomoe’s cheeks were red like apples that just fell off the tree. “Ugh…”

“It’s okay if you haven't,” he added as he caught a glimpse of her frustration. That was a question he very far-fetched would ask a woman, but it just came out naturally as he got reminded it was his wife he was talking to. Like asking her if she preferred dangos over onigiris. “If you’re not comfortable–”

“I am. Quite.” And it was true. “It’s not that I feel uncomfortable, I’m just not used to it, that's all.”

Not being used to it didn't mean she wouldn't find herself wishing that was a normal occurrence. It wasn't supposed to feel so wrong wishing her husband actually slept by her side every day. It was so awkward—the last time they had been so close physically was perhaps when Itachi put Tomoe between his kunai and the ground. 

What a quirky detail it was.

They found the futons were at a good distance, though to Tomoe, Itachi seemed to not care. She watched from the corner of her eyes as, without a single hand seal, a crow formed itself from the dark fabric of his clothing on his shoulder. It flew to the window. Tomoe’s eyelids were heavier when she realized the crow was looking down at her.

Small dark orbs were the last thing she would remember seeing before falling asleep.

For the majority of her life, Sakura had a sense of immediacy when it came to Sasuke. Everything about him was a priority. 

Back in Genin days, Naruto had plenty of time to make fun of it instead of studying, but would never admit he felt the same towards Sasuke. 

Even as they both walked down to the Uchiha District (the necessity of walking Sasuke to their little ramen night at Ichiraku was nonexistent), the feeling was deep-seated in both Sakura and Naruto—whether because Sakura was still so deeply in love with him, or because Naruto viewed him as a brother. It was truly intriguing how Sasuke could awaken this kind of feeling in people.

Sasuke stood, near the entrance of the Uchiha District, surprisingly patient for Sakura and Naruto to arrive, because he knew albeit his words were firm when he said he knew the way to Ichiraku, both their stubbornness was firmer. He didn't expect to see Izumi walking down the same way, off to the side. 

She seemed surprised to see him also. “Oh, Sasuke-kun!”

“Izumi,” Sasuke nodded. It was still odd that he had to see her as a part of the clan, but not the future wife of his brother.

“How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he said. Conversations with Izumi flowed naturally. She had already broken that wall he put up with almost everybody other than Itachi, Sakura, and Naruto. Not even Kakashi got away from his vexed personality.

“That’s good. Is Itachi alright? I haven't seen him around.”

Alarms fired in Sasuke’s head as he looked at Izumi, hiding his surprise from her watchful gaze. He analyzed every single point in her face, trying to read her and failing miserably. Sasuke believed the only man in the world capable of doing so was the man she was asking about. 

Whether he couldn't say what Izumi was feeling, he couldn't say her raven eyes showed anything but her sweet disposition.

“He’s out on a trip with Tomoe-san.”

Sasuke had never been one to walk on thin ice regarding people’s feelings. Mikoto often said that he was different when he was a child but it wasn't that he was the harsh kind of straightforward person. He just wasn't keen on beating around the bush.

But he dreaded the long pause that came after his revelation. It had been months, and Sasuke still wasn't used to it.

“I’m happy to know that!” Izumi countered, taking him by surprise. He sought for a sight on her face that could give away her words weren't sincere, but there was nothing. She looked genuinely happy to know how Itachi was doing, and her aura didn't change a bit. “Your brother never rests. I hope everything is going well.”

Izumi smiled again and all Sasuke mustered the energy to answer was, “Yeah…”

“So,” she turned to him, “I see you have places to go. See you around, Sasuke-kun.”

The conclusion Sasuke had as soon as Izumi turned around and left was that she was at peace—and it was almost palpable. A breath he held against his will came out lighter than he expected it to.

“Sasuke!” Naruto’s shrieking voice brought him back from his thoughts.

The pink-haired girl who always accompanied the pair had both her arms on her back and cheeks almost as pink as her hair. A soft breeze mussed her strands and brought her whisper of his name to grace his ears. 

Sasuke-kun.

The same voice echoed in different tones exactly how he remembered it. Every time he looked at Sakura, he felt something new but always the same. Like the same fingernail grows differently from time to time.

Sasuke’s breathing pattern became uneven—something only Haruno Sakura managed to do. The more they grew old and in love, the more power to do it she had. A detail that annoyed him a little, though he forgot once she timidly held his hand.

The trio walked to Ichiraku as Naruto mocked them for all the PDA, only halting when he accidentally bumped into Hinata who was just exiting Yamanaka Flower Shop accompanied by her sister Hanabi, and got red as a tomato. 

Then it was Sasuke and Sakura’s turn to mock Naruto.

Chapter Text

Uchiha Itachi had trouble sleeping more often than not. If he didn't live up to the talks of him being a genius from a young age, perhaps his dreams would mingle with his memories until he couldn't tell which was reality and which wasn't. Not even the Sharingan could conceivably tell him, if not for the way he felt first thing in the morning.

Itachi’s mind was oddly blank for a great part of the night. Like sleepwalking through the realm of his own subliminal, he waited for a usual bad dream that never came. Instead, the vault of his memories opened unexpectedly, and there he knew his mind wasn't playing tricks.

He saw Tomoe badly injured again, but his feelings weren't the same as the night the attack happened. 

Two sides of himself divided—the one of his memories, and the one in his dream. Still sleepwalking the realm of his subliminal, Itachi recalled feeling like he failed a mission. He felt anguished for failing others that night, though the weak and bloody body in his arms was hers, and she and only she was in pain, he felt nothing regarding only her.

But the side of him who only existed in that dream revived the same scene over and over again. A Tsukuyomi. It wasn't real but it wasn't a dream inside a dream either. 

Itachi got a taste of his own medicine, probably worse.

When he slid the front shoji door of his house, he saw Tomoe with a rod through her heart. Red blood like the color of her hair cascaded down from her lips to her chin, and the only thing going through that side’s mind was that he had failed her.

He should’ve been there because he simply should. There should not be an ulterior motive for his presence being needed—awaited. 

Memories kept flowing in his dream. He sleepwalked until he saw himself standing with Sasuke, talking about the former Anbu-nin named Sai. Itachi recalled that Sai was around Sasuke’s age, and he had yet to talk to him once he woke up. He should’ve understood that as an emergency and talked to Sai first when the dots connected in his head, but he did not.

Suddenly, it was all but a void. Not blank, like before his dream of replaying memories started. There was nothing inside the dream anymore—but there was a very real feeling outside it.

Something warm spread through his hand. Light-headed from sleeping, dreaming, and remembering—Itachi couldn't tell which hand was warm, left or right. Only that the information got to his head. Once he woke up, he’d perhaps remember trying to channel chakra into the crow he left on guard by the window and failing miserably, for the feeling was so comforting he couldn't see or feel anything else.

There was nothing there for him anymore.

A tingling feeling on Tomoe’s fingertips woke her up in the first hours of the day.

Twenty-one years have taught her quite a few things about life. Things like sunny-side-up eggs are quite hard to make. Or that no amount of generosity can change a person at their core unless they want to. She learned even parents can hurt their children’s feelings. And no time is wasted if it leads one to the moment their heart desires to arrive even if they don't know.

These, among a few other things.

Inwhole twenty-one years, she never learned what she should do if she woke up with her hand on Uchiha Itachi’s left hand. Perhaps no amount of years of experience could summarize these kinds of moments to inexperienced people like her. 

She thought he probably had nightmares frequently if she could tell by the times she woke up to get some water, and he didn't look restful in his sleep. There, however, he lay unmoving and so did she. Not knowing how he would react once he opened his eyes and saw her hand resting upon his could be one of the reasons for her lack of harsh movements, if his hands weren't so warm she felt like his own chakra flowed to her fingers like a river of spring water.

It was different from everything she had ever known or felt for twenty-one whole years.

Up close, she could notice again how his lashes were long and thick, ebony harmony contrasting with the light tan of his skin. Again, because she had noticed it a few times before. His lashes outlined his eyes, drawing them to a pointy shape toward the end. Besides the lines that went from the inner corner of his eyes to the middle of his cheeks, they were perhaps the most prominent feature of his face. Bewitching on their own with no need of a dojutsu like the Sharingan or any other.

Feeling like being watched as she scrutinized Itachi’s sleeping figure, though she was the only one with eyes open, there in the window was still the same crow that dispelled from his clothes. She recalled how it was the last thing she saw before she drifted to a peaceful sleep.

Tomoe withdrew her hand from Itachi’s, slowly. His middle finger flickered but he did not wake up.

“You saw nothing, understand?” She mouthed to the bird. 

It tilted its small head to the side and blinked.

“It’s your birthday,” Itachi said as a matter of fact. Tomoe, already dressed up for the day, sat beside a chabudai for breakfast. He noticed it placed by her futon’s side. “Have I overslept?”

“Not really,” she shook her head. “It’s still very early. I’ve never seen you sleep so soundly so I thought it was better to ask for breakfast myself.”

“Hn.” Itachi‘s glance moved to the window. The crow was still there. He felt cold in his chest and realized his sleeping garments were showing more of his chest so he sat straight and redid the knot. “You should’ve eaten.”

A thank you would’ve been enough, but Tomoe reckoned it was Itachi’s way of saying he was thankful for the food.

“It’s okay. I was not that hungry,” she swerved her eyes and scratched her arm, “but now that you’ve said it…”

Itachi nodded, “Let’s eat then. It’s your birthday.”

It must’ve been his way of saying she should stop worrying about anything other than herself at least that single day of the year—though he didn't know the task was getting harder day by day as she woke up as his wife.

Tomoe’s eyes disappeared as her eyes turned into crescent red moons. She chuckled. “You’ve reminded me I’m getting older already.”

And she could swear Itachi’s cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink was her imagination playing tricks. “Happy birthday,” he said.

“T-thank you, Itachi…”

That stutter wasn't supposed to be there but Tomoe found it hard to let words out as her heart hammered against her ribcage. It was a surprise she couldn't hide. Her cheeks were maroon and the skin there felt hot, yet she didn't try to hide. It wouldn't make any difference if he realized how he was making her feel on that trip, like all the giggling kunoichis who had a sweet spot for him.

Tomoe’s mind was dangerously wandering through places she perhaps knew she would from the beginning. She did nothing to hold back her heart where it should be.

Only if he had made things just a little bit difficult for her, which deep down she knew he would never.

Swordcraft wasn't something one could master in a short period. To use a katana, back in his Anbu-nin times, Itachi had to train almost non-stop throughout his younger years.

Tomoe had some graceful aptness in holding a katana, he witnessed. Her body moved like bamboo trees, curving at the right places as she lowered the blade at the right moment to strike her opponent—a boy no older than five.

It was a sword class, where kids were more numerous than adults. The boy, Katagiri as he enthusiastically introduced himself, as an outsider as they were, tried hard to find Tomoe’s weak spot. A hard task for a five-year-old. The child reminded Itachi of his younger self. He could almost picture his never-ending desire to not fail against her, finding her weak spot and declaring himself as the best.

The thought made him chuckle.

Tomoe got distracted by the sound for a moment and Katagiri thought he had his chance. She was faster though. Stronger, as a woman, but delicate as an adult sparring with a child. She didn't move with the unripe immediacy Katagiri had to spare.

The Laidō. Itachi heard of it a few times and recognized the moves vaguely. Samurai were pretty respectable people, and he had a vast knowledge of different fighting styles of his own.

All the other children wanted to spar with Tomoe after Katagiri bowed with suns in his eyes, promising he would become a great swordsman to never lose again. It sounded like swordcraft was popular among civilians of non-shinobi cities. 

Itachi had an inkling Tomoe would rather be a kunoichi instead of a samurai because he felt she thought it was what she was supposed to be since birth. Being born in a hidden village, bearing a name like Senju meant it was expected of her perhaps before she was born—like Tsunade was expected to be the next Hokage after Minato retired. Tomoe believed that, but after catching sight of her wielding a katana, Itachi decided he would believe she found her place away from Konoha.

She didn't need to be a kunoichi to be strong. He testified she already was, though he knew before that.

They walked side by side down a busy avenue.

“What do you want to have for lunch on your birthday?” Itachi saw her cheeks turning red and fought the will to raise his eyebrows.

“You sure seem to enjoy birthdays a lot.”

“I do,” he recalled every single birthday Sasuke ever had, with Naruto running around like the perky kid he was, Sakura and Ino fighting for his brother’s attention, and even the visit of Gaara from Sunagakure. “So have you decided?”

“Hm…” Tomoe hummed, hands behind her back as she analyzed the welcoming frontages of the restaurants. “Maybe… umeboshi onigiris?”

Itachi’s eyebrows rose. “Why not mochis?”

Tomoe glanced at Itachi, “Mochis for lunch?” 

She learned he had quite the sweet tooth but the levels of his inclination towards sugary treats were truly over the top.

Itachi shrugged at her question.

“Not exactly for lunch, but it’s what people get on their birthdays.”

Not that Tomoe could have avoided the little laugh that escaped her lips with Itachi’s words, but the fact that she didn't try to make him wonder if what he said was even funny brought that reaction out. 

Tomoe laughed. Itachi didn't get her reaction, yet he was glad she seemed to be having a great time altogether.

“You really have a sweet tooth.”

Itachi blatantly blushed. He swerved his eyes though Tomoe tipped her head forward and her hands on her back to gaze at his reaction better. When he looked at her again, she had a smile that hid her eyes behind her cheeks.

“Umeboshi onigiris, then.”

“Yes,” Tomoe nodded. “But I think I want mochis too.”

When the sun was gone and a summer night breeze entered through the hotel room window, Tomoe asked Itachi if they could go to the beach again.

Mai was enchanting and lively in the streets, but quiet and relaxing on the beach. Its citizens took good care and cherished it like the natural beauty it was. To Tomoe, having her feet sinking on the sand was an exciting sensation that left an addictive aftertaste.

Itachi could not say no to her wish, though she spent almost all day on the beach.

Hirai waved them goodbye enthusiastically, that time accompanied by his two daughters, most certainly informed that there was a young couple with a handsome young man, though it must have flown by their head that the aforementioned young man was not single.

“Ah… He’s such a sight for sore eyes…”

“She’s so lucky…”

“I wish I was this lucky too…”

Their father stood a few feet away shaking his head, shooing the girls away as the couple left the hall and Sasuke, a young man who worked as a handyman at the hotel came to the picture to tell the girls their dinner was ready.

Sasuke loved Sakura, Hirai’s older daughter. But she always dodged his attempts showing blatantly disinterest. Hirai took pleasure in the idea of them together though, and wouldn't let Sasuke give up on his headstrong daughter.

“Come on, Sasuke-kun. I heard Sakura-chan say you've been a little late for dinner these days. I think she might as well be worried.”

(Sakura was not worried, though she did ask for him when he was late. Hirai had to lie a little bit but God knows it was only a father working double shifts to see his daughter marry a good man.)

There was a question Tomoe wanted to ask since their arrival in Mai.

Itachi’s efforts to make her birthday nicer than the last several she had in the snow were appreciated, really. Tomoe even felt a little guilty for not putting in the same effort for his birthday, but it was that she didn't know what to do. She didn't know what Itachi would like other than a sugary delicacy, and with Orochimaru’s unexpected visit, it wasn't like they could’ve left Konoha for a birthday trip. 

Not forgetting he reached another milestone was all she could’ve done even if it was a little late, and though Itachi never verbalized, he appreciated the gesture.

Nevertheless, all Tomoe could think was that he was doing all of that as an obligation, and whenever she had fun, the thought persisted in the back of her mind. A part of her wanted to believe he was doing everything out of… out of something that perhaps was not affection, but not obligation either.

She looked at him, noticing the way his usually firmly tied hair tie loosened as his hair ricocheted with the wind.

Itachi felt Tomoe’s eyes on him. She blinked before she said, “Your hair tie is loosening…”

He reached for the hair tie, too late. It escaped his hair before his fingers could reach it, long gone with the wind. They watched it disappear in the dark.

“I think it’s time to cut it.” Tomoe glanced at Itachi and then at the sea. It was slightly longer than what she remembered from the night they met.

“Let me just tie it back for you.” She didn't want him to speak those words ever again. Itachi didn't oppose the idea, he even knew Tomoe purposefully ignored his words. 

Standing still so she could move behind him and tie his hair, Itachi enjoyed how the strands seamlessly found their way between Tomoe’s fingers. The gentle pull sent electric shots to his scalp. He hummed, satisfied. It had been a long time since someone touched his hair—the last person had been Mikoto, combing it after long hours of training.

But it all ended, and the air felt heavier all of a sudden. Both of them didn't know what to do or say other than to stay silent, though Itachi had a wish she could’ve kept her hands in his hair. The waves kept kissing the shoreline.

Breaking the silence was a duty Tomoe took upon herself, “Did you know the handyman’s name’s Sasuke?”

A light lit Itachi’s eyes at the sole mention of his brother’s name, fondness behind them. “Is it?”

“And he’s in love with Hirai-san’s daughter,” she added with a smile. “Sakura. Can you believe it? Almost like destiny.”

“Do you believe in destiny?” Itachi asked as if the answer wasn't that important. He lit a bonfire on the sand with a couple of hand seals. The air started to feel chilly.

“Do you?” Tomoe countered, one arched eyebrow.

“I don't know,” he was back at stirring the twigs. It was astonishing. Uchiha Itachi not knowing about something sounded almost outrageous. “Destiny can be a reality to someone, but an illusion to another. Which one is right?”

“Neither, I think,” Tomoe shrugged as she sat, fire alight. “Not everything has to have a right or wrong side.”

Itachi’s lips twitched at the corner. That was a witty answer. “So you believe it?”

She looked at him. The bonfire shadows painted his dark orbs with a red glow. There was no Sharingan, but Tomoe could swear she saw it flash for an instant. Her chest inflated and deflated, numb with the duty of giving him an answer.

Did she believe it? Yes and no.

Answering Itachi’s question prompted her to question him herself.

“Itachi-san.” Like she was a pole and his eyes magnets, they were drawn to her with a disapproving underpaint. She knew he didn't approve of such suffixes, not from her of all people. “Why are we—you doing this?”

More than sounding confused, Itachi felt like he was a goose in a snowstorm. “I don't understand.”

Tomoe was never afraid of being upfront since she was thrown headfirst into that arrangement, and it was not as if she was afraid of questioning how his actions summed up with his good looks had been making her heart race in unexplored paths. But she also didn't want to sound that obvious.

“You get all types of feminine attention and still you are as dense as a rock.”

Itachi was surprised. “…Are you insulting me?”

“Yes, I am.” For the first time that night, Tomoe refused to make eye contact. “Why are you doing those things?”

”I don't know if it came across like that but I do not have the ability to understand things that aren't communicated clearly.” Itachi’s head lolled to the side. “Are you not enjoying your birthday?”

“It’s past midnight, not my birthday anymore,” her voice trembled a little. “And I did.” That was the problem. “I just—it’s not fair… even cruel.”

Itachi blinked a few times. He saw how Tomoe’s eyes started to glisten in the dark. If that was forbidden parchment unrolled before his eyes, Itachi would’ve unveiled and perhaps mastered it faster than a man above his rank probably would. But a woman? And an apparently upset one. It was like learning how to navigate a new powerful ability as the Sharingan from a young age.

Should he say he’s sorry? But what would he be sorry for? He made a promise he was trying to fulfill. Itachi couldn't understand why she didn't look elated the way he thought she would.

“Tomoe-san,” he added the suffix to indicate how lost and far away from her thoughts he was. “What is not fair?”

She was holding words back, he knew it. The gulp that went down her throat was dry. A group of teenagers came out of nowhere, loud as they were.

Tomoe could sway a double-edged sword like a moth could sway in the wind graciously, but telling Itachi she was afraid of giving too much thought to his actions felt like too sharp of a truth. She was afraid of growing a garden inside her heart he would never be able to walk in.

Because Itachi was a man fit for a lady’s dreams, and Tomoe was just a woman who used to be alone, she forced the thought that, just maybe, she was supposed to end up in his life all along. 

When Tomoe looked at Itachi again, she was sure he understood what she meant and her cheeks started to burn red. They burned even harder by the closeness of the bonfire. He blinked slowly, and his scowl dissipated. The skin between his eyebrows wrinkled, eyes softened.

It sure had been a long time since Itachi felt that lost.

Chapter Text

In Konoha, news of Tomoe and Itachi’s trip to the coast spread like wildfire. Not only in the Uchiha District but throughout the village, everyone was talking about the rumors of Tomoe's pregnancy. Their absence only added fuel to the fire, especially since they had been married for almost two years. While villagers had not yet seen any noticeable signs, like a discernible baby bump, the rumors gained momentum, particularly following Rin's recent pregnancy announcement, which had set off a wave of excitement. It was only a matter of time before others might share similar news.

Itachi’s family, however, remained largely unfazed by the gossip circulating around them…

Uchiha Mikoto have always had a nurturing spirit, and developed a routine of watering the various plants adorning her home in the past years of her children’s growth. The newfound habit blossomed as Itachi and Sasuke had become independent enough to take care of themselves. As she tended to the lush greenery, Mikoto found a deep sense of peace and fulfillment, channeling her love and care into the blossoming plants that filled her garden and home with vibrant life.

Having just finished her task with the azaleas, Mikoto suddenly sensed an unfamiliar chakra presence lingering near the entrance of her home. She turned to find Minori standing there, a warm smile gracing her lips and a woven basket cradled in her arms. Recognizing her friend, Mikoto’s heart lifted; she returned the smile and nodded, extending a welcoming gesture for Minori to come closer.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important, Mikoto,” Minori remarked, her tone light and friendly, as she stepped into the warm glow of the house's interior, wearing a warm smile. Mikoto returned the smile and nodded, inviting her to come closer.

Mikoto glanced down at the flowers and crouched, putting the yellow watering pan down. “They need special attention now that summer is almost over. The next seasons are rough to them,” she turned to Minori and grinned. “But they don't occupy me to the point I can't welcome a good visit. Please come in, Minori.”

Minori brought dangos, the best Mikoto had ever tasted. Yet somewhere along the small talk, Mikoto realized that it wasn't the only thing Minori had brought to the table— worries were much more bitter than dangos. Though they still tasted sweet on their tongues, Minori’s bitter worries were almost palpable.

“Something is bothering you,” Mikoto pointed. She could say whatever Minori’s worries were, it had to do with both their children.

“For way longer than it seems.”

They sat by the chabudai where the Uchiha family used to eat together when time allowed, Itachi and Sasuke were still only boys. Minori offered Mikoto a small, gloomy smile. “I fear I— we , Itama and I, have been hurting her feelings all this time.”

Mikoto rested her hands on the chabudai. “The disadvantages of being a parent…”

“I suppose it is,” a moment of silence. “But it’s different when you know you’re hurting your child’s feelings and you still do it anyway.”

"Well…” it made Mikoto think about every time she and Fugaku hurt the boys’ feelings knowing exactly what they were doing, as adults who had seen more than them. “It would be ideal if we could do things without hurting them, I agree.” The wind chimes tinkled outside, bringing a sense of calmness and peace Konoha sought for so long. “But it’s just… unattainable.”

Minori thought about Mikoto’s words. They were close in age but Mikoto exceeded in self-awareness, something Minori always felt she lacked. Even Kushina, in her unique way, was more self-aware than Minori would ever proclaim herself to be.

“Honestly, though I have a hard time accepting this truth, I know I will eventually get there one day,” Minori exhaled. “What worries me is that she might resent me. I can't sleep at night thinking she might never trust me again as her mother.”

Mikoto had a disapproving sound in her throat, but she decided against letting it out, pursing her lips instead and shaking her head lightly. “I’ve known Tomoe for a short time but what I’ve known is enough to assure you this never crossed her mind once, Minori. Perhaps she just needs a little time. I think this trip with Itachi will be good for her. For them.”

Minori had to collect herself to not let her lips quiver too much. It was no use. The news of Itachi and Tomoe’s trip ran and fell directly into the ears of a mother who never had her daughter near to talk about things like an unplanned trip or anything Tomoe considered exciting.

“Me too. I hope so.”

Their conversation deviated but went on, agreeable. Mikoto thought Minori’s visit was truly a pleasure.

There was a frown on both Shisui and Itachi’s faces, though for different reasons. None of them were mad, more like confused and expectant.

“So you’ve taken her on a trip, then got mad because she enjoyed it?”

When Shisui put it like that, it sounded silly.

“I wasn’t mad,” Itachi gave Shishi a side glance. “Not with her. It’s just that I always seem to be caught off guard, which makes me mad.”

Women could not be that difficult unless they were your wife.

“You’re too good of a strategist and now you’ve found an opponent whose steps are hard to predict. Brother, if you were not in misery I would say this is quite funny.” A thought crossed Shishi’s mind as several alarms fired in his head. “You do realize that one day, you will have to become the clan’s and Military Police Force’s head, right?” he asked, curious because Itachi never mentioned the future bestowed upon him.

“I do,” concise as always. “You underestimate me.”

Shisui sighed. Of course, Itachi realized. He didn't even know why he asked.

“It’s not that I underestimate you, but she is the woman who saved our clan, Itachi. I honestly don't get you sometimes,” Shisui confessed. “With all due respect, you know I see you as my younger brother—but if I were in your shoes, I’d probably have fallen head over heels for her a long time ago. She is wonderful.”

Itachi recalled all the times he blatantly refused her in all shapes and forms and yet she stood her ground, having no idea how important she was—perhaps not in the way she wanted to be but still. Occasionally, even Itachi seemed to forget that. But he did agree with Shisui.

Yet the half-second he thought about Shisui marrying Tomoe and falling in love with her strangely left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn't think of it for a second longer. Shisui could see the signs of a grimace he would probably laugh at.

“I do not wish to feel like I am only repaying her for the good she did for our clan. She didn't even know anything.”

“Do you honestly think it would make any difference if she knew?”

Itachi knew it wouldn't. “No.”

“So you have your answer for whatever you may be questioning about her.”

There was a moment of silence before Shisui spoke again.

“I’ve taught you many things,” it was a statement. Shisui didn't need to elaborate on the aspects of everything he had taught. Itachi kept his eyes on the ground as they walked to the Military Police Headquarters. “But somehow I felt like girls were the only matter you were disinterested to engage in. Even with Izumi.”

The thing is that Izumi was already in love with him. In the end, all Itachi had to do was accept her affection, and it took long years of their adolescence. Tomoe was a whole nother story. She was his wife, but she didn't marry him because she nurtured affection.

All Itachi wanted was an indication of where he should proceed to go after what happened in Mai, and Shisui seemed to always know about different kinds of things, something Itachi recognized he lacked in some areas.

Tomoe wasn’t acting differently from usual, but Itachi felt something was holding her back from what she truly wanted to say since their return. She was so close, on his back, but also felt so distant. Itachi understood her words though they were only a few, and it was killing him that, again, he didn't know what path he should go.

Heavens, he was trying . It was just going to start getting hard now that Tomoe brought the unaddressed possibilities to light. He didn't even consider it once.

“We were busy,” was all he said about Shisui’s remark.

Shisui chuckled, bringing Itachi’s attention to him, “Speak for yourself, brother. We were busy but I wasn't dead. Not yet at least.”

That was quite a surprising revelation. Itachi analyzed Shisui’s expression. Though he knew his best friend was serious when he needed to be, he also joked about a myriad of things.

Shisui didn't seem like joking this time. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m just surprised to hear you speak like this,” Itachi blinked and looked ahead. “You never told me anything about it.”

"Because we were busy.”

The joke was unmistakable.

The leaves were beginning to take on rich shades of orange and crimson again, drifting gently to the ground like whispers of change, when Arata mustered the courage to ask Izumi out on a ramen date. He had thought about this moment numerous times, rehearsing his approach, but nothing could have prepared him for her reaction—a mixture of surprise and confusion that was, in truth, exactly what he had anticipated.

 “Are you out of your mind…?” she replied, her eyes widening in disbelief.

 Arata was a Hyūga, a member of the revered Hyūga clan that upheld the tradition of marrying only within its ranks. The societal pressure weighed heavily upon him, and he understood all too well the implications of crossing such a boundary. 

 Yet, despite the weight of tradition and expectation, he couldn’t bring himself to accept her initial response as a definitive rejection, especially since he fully respected Izumi’s autonomy and would honor her decision if she simply wasn’t interested. After all, he wasn’t asking for her hand in marriage—just an evening spent enjoying a bowl of ramen.

 “…You didn’t say no,” he pointed out gently, a hopeful note in his voice.

 “I didn’t say yes either,” she countered, folding her arms across her chest defensively.

 “Izumi-chan,” he said, stepping closer and positioning himself directly in front of her. He towered over her petite frame, and as she looked up into his face, Izumi felt her heart race. Arata’s lilac eyes, striking and dreamy, bore into hers, captivating her momentarily. “Come on! It’s just ramen. I promise I’ll be okay if you say no, but you haven’t said it yet.”

 A fleeting thought crossed her mind about how it used to be just dangos too, but she held her tongue. Speaking it aloud felt dangerous as if acknowledging the thought might somehow seal her fate yet again.

 “So, you want me to say no?” she asked, crossing her arms tighter and turning her head to the side, displaying an expression of feigned indifference. Arata swore he detected the slightest pout forming on her lips.

 How endearing, he thought, despite the tension in the air.

 “Of course not. Why would I even ask?” He rolled his eyes playfully. “It’s perfectly fine if you want to say no for any reason, but I just want a straightforward answer. Yes or no.”

 Izumi remained stubbornly silent, her arms still crossed, refusing to look him in the eye—as she always did whenever Itachi had said something she disagreed with. It was a tactic she employed to gauge his interest in the conversation. Her ex-lover, having known her for years since childhood, always exceeded her expectations, effortlessly passing every test she set. Unbeknownst to him, Arata stood firm, patient, and persistent, determined to break through her defenses.

 “Okay,” she finally muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

 It wasn’t a clear yes, and certainly not a no, but it was much better than anything Arata had dared to hope for. He knew that Izumi was the kind of woman who could slip into his dreams, leaving him with an insatiable longing to return to that enchanted place just to experience the warmth of her presence once more.

 “Okay, what?” he prodded, a mix of excitement and curiosity surging through him.

 But he was also the kind of man who could pull off a few clever tricks to get what he wanted.

 “Yes! Oh my God… is this what you want?” Izumi blurted out, her pout intensifying as she felt the weight of the moment.

 The corner of Arata’s lips twisted into a mischievous smirk. He could read her like an open, decoded parchment—her thoughts and feelings laid bare before him. It was painfully obvious how she hid behind the walls constructed from her past hurts, yet he remained undeterred, eager to navigate the complexities of this connection between them.

Tomoe returned the necklace to Itachi, believing it suited him far better than it ever suited her. There was nothing ulterior in her decision; it was simply that she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss whenever she looked at him without it. Itachi, ever perceptive, took her gesture seriously and ensured that the necklace was back around his neck by the next day.

 From that moment on, an unexpected companion began to shadow her—a crow that followed her every step from a distance, its dark wings contrasting with the soft hues of the world around them.

 Tomoe was not surprised by the crow's presence. Itachi accepted the necklace back with the stipulation that a crow must accompany her wherever she went. 

“Just in case,” he had remarked with a hint of seriousness. Of course, Tomoe's immediate concern drifted to privacy—especially regarding the bathroom. Itachi noticed the flush of pink on her cheeks and quickly reassured her that the crow would maintain a respectful distance, sensing her discomfort. With that assurance, she felt a wave of relief wash over her.

 In their shared bedroom, the crow stationed itself vigilantly at the window, maintaining a watchful eye on her as she settled in for the night. Tomoe often glanced at the small, dark silhouette of Itachi’s chakra lingering there, recognizing how he preferred to observe her peaceful slumber from the safety of the window rather than join her in the shared space. This unusual arrangement, however, provided her with comfort and a sense of security that she hadn't experienced in a long time.

Those nights turned out to be the best sleep she had enjoyed in ages, especially since their time in the cramped quarters of Mai.

During one of their spontaneous visits, Takada and Tsubaki inevitably noticed the crow perched nearby. On the evening of that day, as Tomoe emerged from the dimly lit hen house, she caught sight of the crow perched atop the house's roof. Without hesitation, she extended her arm invitingly. The crow, sensing her call, gracefully descended and landed on her arm, coming closer as if acknowledging their newfound bond. It was a subtle yet profound moment that deepened her connection to both the crow and Itachi, leaving her with a sense of companionship that felt reassuring in its own right.

She wondered if Itachi had control of that too.

“You will have to stay on my shoulder, buddy.” The crow slid up her arm to her shoulder. “There you go…”

And that’s where it had been since then, everywhere she went. Itachi didn't say anything when he arrived home and Tomoe and the crow were together—it was a part of him anyway, there was no need to say anything. He found it endearing how that piece of his chakra entertained her and felt relieved.

One day, peeking out from behind an ajar fusuma door, Itachi observed how the crow entertained Tomoe through the biting cold that enveloped the engawa. The winter sunlight barely filtered through the clouds, casting a muted glow on the wooden floorboards. Tomoe, with her nimble fingers, lovingly knitted a winter coat for the crow, stitching the Uchiha clan crest with precision and care. The delicate threads reminded Itachi of the adorable chicken nests she had crafted during their first winter together; the memory brought a flicker of warmth to his heart.

There were times when the crow vanished for hours. Itachi, who had long mastered the skills expected of a shinobi genius, knew all too well that his chakra reserves were not boundless. He had attempted to leave the crow with Tomoe more frequently, but the moment it wasn’t by her side, he felt an overwhelming urge to stay close, as if its absence pulled at his own sense of duty. 

One day, as they adjusted the wooden beams of the hen house together, a thought crossed his mind, breaking his concentration on the task at hand. 

Until when are you going to give her only this much?

It was amusing and somewhat unsettling; he could almost hear Shisui’s voice echoing in his thoughts, urging him to consider his feelings more deeply. Itachi’s convictions remained steadfast, yet he found himself giving in to that inner dialogue. If he were in Tomoe’s shoes, he doubted he would have endured the same level of patience.

As the days passed, Itachi began to meticulously observe Tomoe, noticing the subtleties that colored her daily life—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was focused, the gentle smile that appeared when she thought no one was watching, and the way her brow furrowed in concentration while she worked. Just like that, winter slipped away, making way for vibrant spring. The flowers began to bloom, and the air filled with the scent of new beginnings. In contrast, Takada and Tsubaki had not passed their chunin exams and, realizing they needed more training, decided that knitting was not on their list of priorities for the year. In a desperate attempt to gain Itachi’s attention, they besieged Tomoe, kneeling to plead with her to persuade him to train with them—a request she couldn’t possibly decline.

One evening, a plate brimming with dangos sat unprotected atop the chabudai, the sweet aroma wafting through the air. Itachi’s mouth watered at the sight of the sticky rice dumplings, his gaze unwavering as he watched Tomoe delicately lift the plate away to set the table for dinner. She glanced over her shoulder at him, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

“What?” she asked, her voice playful.

Itachi swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as he turned his gaze away from her hands, which carefully cradled the dangos. “I was going to eat that…”

“Before dinner?” Tomoe feigned surprise, an impish grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Then why was it on the table before dinner?” Itachi raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her playful banter.

Clever as he always had been. She irrefutably earned that moment. “Hmm…” she pondered, her eyes narrowing mischievously as she examined the plate. “I just put it there. But it’s a dessert, meaning it’s supposed to be eaten after dinner.”

When she caught his eye, genuine astonishment washed over her as she realized he looked more than just mildly upset. A warmth spread through Tomoe’s chest, a sweetness she felt whenever they engaged in these light-hearted exchanges.

Itachi held his silence until they finished their meal. Once Tomoe began tidying the table, he stood and returned the dango plate atop the chabudai.

“Do you have anything to tell me?” he asked calmly.

Caught off guard, Tomoe nearly let the bowl slip from her grasp, grateful that he couldn’t see the deep crimson shade flooding her cheeks.

“Not exactly tell but I do have something to ask,” she replied, her focus narrowing on the soft sounds of his almost soundless munching. “Just to be clear, I was coerced.”

“I can tell,” Itachi responded, swallowing the dessert. He fixed a knowing gaze on Tomoe, one that caught her off guard. “I’m more surprised that you allowed yourself to be coerced.”

While turning off the faucet, Tomoe dried her hands on a dishcloth before facing Itachi directly. She felt a sense of contentment wash over her as she watched him enjoy the dangos.

“They have really cute faces…” she began, crossing her arms and casting her eyes down to the ground beside him, her pouting lips betraying her playful intent. “I couldn't say no. They asked very nicely.”

Itachi, slowing his eating, nodded as if considering her words. “So I suppose I won’t have the chance to refuse either.”

Tomoe wondered if he was referring to the twins or her smooth persuasion, but she opted against probing further, content to let the moment linger in silence.

“You can’t say no! They are putting so much effort into their training…” She sighed, uncrossing her arms and grasping the sides of her dress to steady herself as she prepared for her next argument. “I know you are busy with Military Police duties and clan matters, but it would mean a lot if you could spare just a bit of your time. You truly inspire them.”

Itachi didn’t hesitate, understanding all too well how busy he was and how he couldn’t assist Takada and Tsubaki with their training. He had gained extensive experience and learned valuable lessons throughout his journey. However, he thought Tomoe’s request stemmed from her genuine desire for the girls to succeed in their next chunin exam, yet against her better judgment she still asked him. Itachi didn’t see himself as someone inherently skilled in teaching, unlike Shisui, Obito, or even Kakashi. He was more used to distance over bonding with those around him.

"You ask very nicely, too," Itachi almost voiced. The thought lingered in his mind; despite his wishes, he felt compelled to let himself be swayed by her request, considering how Shisui’s earlier students had looked up to him, which added weight to his decision.

He also recalled how Sasuke had once looked up to him, the memory tugging on his heartstrings.

“Okay,” he finally said, the dango plate already empty. “Can you plan their visits?”

Itachi's positive response enveloped Tomoe’s heart in joy, illuminating her face with a radiant smile. The satisfaction on his face seemed to stem from both the sweet taste of the dangos and her overwhelming excitement.

“Of course I can! They will be so happy!” she exclaimed, sliding beside him on the wooden floor. She almost drew too close, the familiar ache in her chest returning after lying dormant since the aftermath of the attack and sending a small shockwave through her body. She paused midway, clearing her throat to mask her sudden anxiety, placing a hand on her chest to soothe the rapid beating of her heart. When she glanced back at him, she could almost swear she saw a flicker of unspoken expectation in his eyes, as if he were patiently waiting for her to bridge the distance between them too.

Itachi’s smile, subtle and composed, warmed his features. “I’m glad.”

Chapter Text

The training began around mid-spring, shortly after the celebration of the girls’ seventh birthday. 

While no one at the Military Police headquarters openly discussed it, an undeniable shift in Itachi's presence was palpable to everyone around him. He maintained the same stoic expression and his reserved demeanor, never one to divulge much about his thoughts or feelings. However, there was an unmistakable change in the atmosphere that surrounded him—an intensity that hinted at deeper thoughts and emotions. Colleagues exchanged glances, sensing something significant was unfolding within Itachi, even if he chose not to reveal it.

The last time Fugaku saw Itachi like that was when Sasuke often looked at everything he did with unfiltered awe. Fugaku felt relieved and somewhat curious, though he decided against letting it show. If Itachi was one percent like him, if there were a noticeable spark he let escape, as a father he knew his son would bury those feelings deeper.

Takada and Tsubaki left the Academy running as soon as the clock struck five in the afternoon. When they arrived at Tomoe and Itachi’s house, Tomoe was brooming the engawa as Itachi put on his sandals.

“You arrived early,” Itachi noticed as he finished. The girls looked proud of it.

“Yeah,” Takada timidly assumed. “We didn't want to keep you waiting, Itachi-sensei.”

Tomoe paused just to gape at Itachi’s reaction. He only blinked, though slowly. Itachi-sensei. It sounded quite suitable to Tomoe’s ears.

“Well,” Itachi sighed and closed his eyes. Nothing could hide the light twitch of the corner of his lips. “You don't need to call me that.”

“Why not?” Tsubaki questioned, unphased. “You’re our sensei now.”

Kids had a special way of leaving adults feeling embarrassed. 

“Where are you going?” Tomoe intervened as soon as she realized Itachi couldn't escape the wide-eyed stares he received. “I made dangos for you to eat when the training ends .”

Wives also had a special way of leaving husbands feeling conflicted.

“We were going to the Uchiha trading pond…” Itachi said, though vexed after finding out a plate of the best dangos he ever had was waiting. He even had a micro-pout on his lips, annoyed. The dangos were hidden in the oven when he arrived home.

Tomoe’s eyes quickly lost their earlier sparkle, which had brightened her face since the first light of morning. The news popped the balloon of her happiness. Her shoulders drooped in disappointment as she processed Itachi’s words. She had imagined spending the rest of the afternoon and into the evening immersed in their training, feeling the familiar rhythm of their practice and the reassuring presence of their companions beside her. Instead, the news meant she would have long hours ahead in solitude, with only thoughts for company.

Itachi sensed the subtle shift in Tomoe’s mood, a flicker of uncertainty that seemed to cloud her once bright expression. “But today, we're focusing on theory,” he said, maintaining his calm demeanor. “We can stay.”

The twins exchanged glances, each feeling the urge to grumble and protest, but they refrained from voicing their complaints. A radiant smile returned to Tomoe’s face almost immediately, and Itachi felt relief wash over him. At that moment, he was convinced that his decision had been the right one. There was a familiar sense of satisfaction that blossomed within him whenever he could bring her joy—an emotional warmth that spread through his body like sunlight on a cool day.

“So, where do we start?” Tsubaki asked enthusiastically, her eagerness evident in her tone.

Itachi's gaze flitted between the two pairs of familiar obsidian eyes, wide with anticipation, and then to the woman beside him, whose crimson eyes blazed like wildfire. Tsubaki’s question rang in his mind, echoing with deeper implications, yet Itachi realized he had the same answer to offer if the woman standing next to him ever were to inquire the same about themselves.

Where should they start?

“From the beginning,” he replied, his voice steady and firm, ready to guide them on their journey of learning.

Tsukuyomi. 

The name echoed in Tomoe's mind, but she couldn't quite place it when she had heard it before. 

As the training progressed, the twins were bubbling with curiosity, bombarding Itachi with questions. Tomoe initially wondered if he would be able to keep up with their relentless inquiries. To her surprise, he handled the situation with remarkable poise, managing not only their questions but also the carefully crafted dangos she had made after their training session. One question seemed to lead to another until Takada, her eyes wide with intrigue, asked about the abilities of Itachi's Sharingan.

Itachi paused for a moment before answering, listing each ability with a slight frown of discomfort. “Gōkakyu in its original form, Susano’o, Amaterasu, and Tsukuyomi with the Mangekyō,” he replied. 

It was clear that he was hesitant to elaborate on each jutsu, aware that the twins would likely want to dive deeper into their meanings and implications. He understood that now was not the time for such discussions, especially not the intricate history behind how the Uchihas obtained these powers. Takada had seen the overwhelming beauty and strength of Itachi's Susano’o in action before, but that experience was the extent of his knowledge.

What surprised Itachi even more was Tomoe's growing fascination with the other jutsu. He noticed her trying hard to suppress her questions throughout the meal, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she nibbled on her food. But despite her best efforts to remain quiet, she couldn’t hold back any longer. After dinner, they 4gathered around the chabudai for tea before bed, the atmosphere calm and intimate as the evening wore on.

With a mixture of eagerness and hesitation, Tomoe finally broke the silence, her voice soft yet resolute. “Tsukuyomi… What is this jutsu like?” she inquired, her eyes fixed on Itachi, yearning for understanding.

Itachi wasn’t caught by surprise with the question. The name of the jutsu sparked a deep curiosity, prompting people to ponder the significance of the term itself. It made him wonder if she had inherited the same curiosity Nidaime Hokage had once demonstrated in the past, though Tomoe’s were rooted in awe rather than resentment like her late great-grandfather. The legendary shinobi was known not only for his remarkable abilities but also for his profound understanding of the lore surrounding the Uchiha clan's past, intertwined with his own.

As Itachi reflected on this, he realized that there was an undeniable recognition behind the actions and accomplishments of the Hokage, a legacy that people like Itama, a fellow member of the Senju clan, were well aware of. It was a history rich with stories and lessons, akin to a folk song that had been passed down through the generations, preserving the essence of their clan’s heritage. Each note of that song resonated with the values and struggles of the Senju, intertwining their past with the present in a way that was both meaningful and powerful.

In the end, Itachi and Tomoe were more connected than they had known all their lives.

“Like Susano’o,” Itachi remarked thoughtfully as he savored another sip of tea, relishing the rich flavors that always accompanied Tomoe's cooking and baking. The warmth of the tea was comforting, much like her presence. “It takes a toll on me,” he admitted quietly, his gaze drifting toward her. She sat across from him, her striking red eyes fixed on him with an earnest intensity that made him feel exposed yet understood. 

“Great power always comes at a cost for ordinary men,” he added, a hint of gravity in his tone.

Tomoe made a soft sound of disapproval, a subtle gesture that might have gone unnoticed if the evening hadn’t been so serene. The quiet atmosphere amplified every small noise between them. 

“You’re anything but ordinary,” she countered, her voice firm.

Itachi felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips; he had expected her reply. Her quick-witted responses were part of the life they shared, a playful banter that he cherished amidst the seriousness of their surroundings.

“All men are ordinary,” he replied, trying to downplay his exceptional abilities and failing miserably.

“I’ve seen what you can do,” Tomoe responded with a nonchalant shrug, though there was an unmistakable glimmer of recognition in her eyes. She knew there was much more to him than what had been revealed on the battlefield. “Besides, I come from a clan that is hard to ignore, so I certainly recognize true power when I see it.” Her expression shifted to one of resolve as she leaned slightly forward. “But don’t try to change the subject!” she insisted, her tone reflecting a playful challenge. 

Itachi chuckled softly, enjoying the familiar dance of their conversation. “It was already hard getting those girls to understand they were still too young to know…”

She could see his actions came from a place where all his best intentions were. Itachi’s only wish was to protect the young from the knowledge they weren't supposed to have yet. His endeavors already failed with Sasuke, but Takada and Tsubaki didn’t need to know what his younger brother knew—they were born at a better time than the two brothers.

“You know they won’t accept not passing the exams next year, though I also think they are too young. They want to know everything,” Tomoe had humor behind her words but she didn't forget what she really wanted to know. “I have different reasons though. Just Susano’o… I thought people capable of using jutsu like that were last born in Tsunade-sama’s generation.”

“I can only access Susano’o when I’m using the evolved form of the Sharingan,” Itachi confessed, his tone carrying a weight that suggested deep awareness of the risks involved.

“Mangekyō Sharingan…?” Tomoe echoed, the term stirring memories from that fateful night when her life hung in the balance. It was the first time she had truly glimpsed the extent of his power, though he had heard about it far before she came back to Konoha.

Itachi nodded slowly, his expression serious as he elaborated. “In a dojutsu like the Sharingan, it places tremendous strain on the user’s eyes. When too much chakra is focused on a single body part, it can lead to irreversible damage. The same principle applies to techniques like Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi.”

Tomoe blinked slowly, taking in the implications of his words. The knowledge that he possessed such formidable abilities was both awe-inspiring and daunting. As her mind raced with newfound questions, she felt a mixture of admiration and concern bubbling up inside her.

“…It means…” Her voice faltered, struggling to find the right words as a sense of dread washed over her. Finally, she pushed through. “It means you could lose your eyesight…”

The realization hit her hard, like a cold wave crashing over her. Not only did it signify a perilous future for him, but it also suggested that Itachi might have sacrificed a part of his own vision already. She remained entranced, her thoughts swirling, until the gentle sound of Itachi's teacup being set down on the chabudai snapped her back to reality. Then, she felt the warmth of his hand reaching for hers, guiding her teacup to rest beside his own.

“My vision is fine. It was just once,” he reassured her, his voice softer now, almost soothing.

Those words served as a balm for her worries. When his hand left hers, it happened too quickly. She felt an unexpected pang of loss as if that fleeting warmth had been pulled away far too soon.

“Will it ever be possible for you to stop using this ability entirely?” Her voice came out more vulnerable than she intended, revealing the depth of her concern for him.

“I don't think so,” Itachi replied, his gaze drifting as he stared off into the distance. “Humans have always preferred war over peace.” He spoke with the weight of someone who had seen the darker side of humanity, his eyes reflecting a mix of resignation and understanding. “But I do hope so.”

Tomoe nodded, though she felt a twinge of reluctance deep down. “So, how exactly do these jutsus work?” she asked, her curiosity tinged with a bit of wonder.

Itachi studied her momentarily and realized she had a determination that wouldn’t waver soon. “Amaterasu is akin to Gōkakyu, but significantly more powerful. It manifests as a black flame that relentlessly burns for seven days and seven nights.”

Intrigued, Tomoe leaned in closer. “Oh? And what are the hand signs?” Her eyes gleamed with fascination in the dim light of the room, reflecting her eagerness to learn more about his formidable techniques.

Itachi chuckled softly, amused by her enthusiasm. “There are no hand signs for Amaterasu. It’s not a conventional ninjutsu. The user merely needs to focus their intent, and with precise control, Amaterasu is set into motion.”

Tomoe processed this information as she sipped her lukewarm tea, the warm liquid contrasting with the chilling nature of the topic. “Black flames that refuse to extinguish for days… that sounds terrifying,” she mused, a shiver running down her spine. After a moment, she added with a hint of admiration, “But there’s something about it that’s quite enchanting as well.”

Itachi, typically indifferent to flattery, found himself momentarily taken aback. He was not accustomed to the idea of being admired for the power he wielded. Despite his usually stoic demeanor, her words stirred something within him, causing a sensation of pride to swell in his chest that he couldn’t quite ignore.

“So,” she brought him back from his musings, “what is Tsukuyomi like?”

For a few seconds, Itachi thoroughly thought about how he was going to explain Tsukuyomi to her. He did it like he had done with Sasuke in the past, changing a word here or there, but being objective. Of course, she was in awe. The extensions of an ability like Tsukuyomi sometimes even surprised himself. Tomoe had quite the questions, but Itachi didn’t oppose answering each one. He found himself enjoying these random moments with her each passing time, realizing his wife was quite the company to have around.

None of them stopped talking when the night became colder, grabbing blankets and having more warm tea until the talk came to Itachi’s excellent genjutsu skills. Little by little there were fewer words, more drowsiness, and a long night of sleep next to each other by the chabudai.

Itachi observed attentively from a shaded spot on the riverbank as Tomoe emerged from behind the grove trees, her steps light and purposeful. The sun filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on the ground. She carried a woven basket filled with the vibrant colors of fresh fruits and neatly wrapped onigiris—his favorite food. The small thoughtful gesture smelled amazing in the kitchen before they packed everything to go to Naka River. 

The atmosphere shifted when Fugaku learned about Itachi’s decision to mentor the children in preparation for the chunin exams. He waved off any concerns about needing an excuse for time off, emphasizing that he wasn’t a sensei by any means. Yet, Itachi found a strange comfort in this role, relishing the opportunity to guide the girls through the early stages of their training. It was rewarding, and he appreciated the little moments they shared. The time spent with Tomoe was also a welcomed reprieve, especially when she wasn't tending to her duties at the hospital. So he accepted the time off his Military Police duties his father offered.

Ever since they woke up in a tangle of blankets by the chabudai that morning, Tomoe’s unfiltered curiosity about his experiences and abilities began to peel back layers of their relationship, deepening it in ways Itachi wasn't expecting. One thing was true: being close to each other didn’t feel unnatural anymore. It started to feel comforting, like being close to a long-time friend.

“Tomoe-san! Did you see how fast we channeled chakra to our feet?” Tsubaki exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. She wavered her right foot, barely able to contain her excitement. “We almost caught up to you, Itachi-sensei!”

“We didn't…” Takada muttered.

Tomoe, radiating warmth and encouragement, found a weathered trunk that had been cut some time ago and settled onto it with grace. Itachi’s gaze instinctively followed her.

“I didn't see it because you were too fast,” she said, her voice soothing and filled with genuine pride. “Your progress is impressive.” The encouraging words promoted beaming smiles to emerge on their faces.

As the tranquil river meandered gently nearby, a wave of nostalgia washed over Itachi, reminding him of the countless hours he had spent training on that same riverbank years ago with Shisui. He could almost hear the echoes of laughter and shouts as Sasuke chased after them, ever determined to keep up. It was a feeling he had sorely missed—those carefree days of camaraderie and training, seeing himself free from the burdens of the shinobi world, even just for a moment.

“We trained alone too,” said Takada. “Trying to reach the top of the trees without falling is hard.”

That reminded Itachi of the years when Sasuke and Naturo did the same in their chaotic training.

“It is,” he agreed as a way to reassure them. Itachi had surpassed those stages at six years of age, even before he graduated. The girls were still too young—it was more than understandable they didn’t pass the exams, expected even, though they wouldn’t understand or accept they were only seven years old.  “You both are in good timing. We still have time until the next chunin exam, so don't try to rush things. You’ll get there.”

For some reason, Tomoe’s cheeks turned pink. Though a few feet away from them, she swerved her eyes from Itachi to guarantee he wouldn't see her randomly blush.

She just thought he was good with kids. There was absolutely no need to blush.

“…Right, Tomoe-san?”

“Huh?” The three of them blinked, expecting her answer. “Yeah… I think.”

If Itachi noticed something out of the ordinary, he chose to keep it to himself. His dark eyes briefly narrowed at her, but he quickly redirected his focus to the twins, urging the training session to regain their attention. Away from the bustling activity, Tomoe observed them thoughtfully, captivated by the fluidity of their movements. Despite the fact that none of them had rehearsed what they were doing, their actions resembled a beautifully choreographed dance, a striking contrast to the rigid forms she had trained with in her past. 

A wave of curiosity washed over her as she pondered how her life might have unfolded if she had been raised in Konoha. She had heard about a spirited boy named Rock Lee, and had fate drawn a different path, she would have found herself striving to become a taijutsu master like him. Her gaze then shifted to Itachi; she couldn’t help but admire the way he commanded the attention of the girls. His demeanor was a blend of calm authority and unyielding focus. He offered subtle smiles now and then, yet his serious expression revealed layers of critical analysis as he observed their every move. There was something about him that drew her attention to him like magnets.

At that moment, it struck her how a mere twist of fate could have led her to a very different reality. The thought of a life without Itachi felt oddly foreign. It was as if resisting that notion would be akin to fighting against the threads of destiny that had woven their lives together. To her, he was not merely a part of her present; he embodied the memories she left behind before she was gone. Like he had been there, somewhere.

As if she had seen him before.

Or she didn't and it was simply a wish in her heart. Tomoe found herself drawn to the idea of knowing him for longer than she did, maybe growing up together, falling in love before they got married. There were a hundred scenarios in her head she could replay all day long as the trio kept themselves busy training.

Amidst all these musings, her thoughts began to dart unexpectedly toward Izumi. She could now truly empathize with the pain she must’ve felt having caught a glimpse of the life that fate had once promised her, only to snatch it away for reasons beyond their control. An unfamiliar ache gripped Tomoe’s heart, almost like an echo of heartbreak that wasn’t her own, yet felt profoundly real. It wasn’t only because he was once the perfect bachelor—Itachi was much more than a handsome face and a clan. He had a gentle soul beyond his flaws and misfits. Tomoe couldn't imagine having everything Izumi once had and then having it taken away from her so suddenly.

“Tsubaki, you’re too close to the edge,” Itachi warned, his voice steady but laced with concern.

Tomoe's mind snapped back to the present at his words. As she took in her surroundings, she was mesmerized by the stunning landscape before her. Naka River was perhaps Konoha’s most mesmerizing place. The gentle sound of the water flowing over rocks was soothing, and she felt a sense of peace. She stood up, momentarily captivated by the beauty of the sights, and walked towards the cliff's edge where they could train without any distractions.

The view was breathtaking. From their elevated position, the vibrant green trees on the opposite bank below formed a striking contrast to the shimmering dark blue water, creating a picturesque setting. Though the cliff wasn't too high, Tomoe wisely chose to keep her distance from the edge. Just as she took a step closer to take in the view, a sudden rustling startled her. She felt her footing slip, and for a moment, time stood still as she tried unsuccessfully to keep her balance. If it hadn’t been for Itachi’s ever-watchful eyes, always following her even when she didn’t realize it, she would have surely lost her balance and fallen off the cliff.

In a second, Itachi’s hand grasped hers, enveloping it in warmth. He pulled her back with a firm yet gentle tug, bringing her safely away from the precipice.

“Careful,” he said, his tone unwavering yet unreadable.

That single word ignited a warmth in her cheeks, turning them as red as the vibrant roses in the nearby Yamanaka Flower Shop. Itachi had a way of making her feel flustered, a sensation she had increasingly experienced in recent weeks. With a nervous gesture, Tomoe pushed a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear, a telltale sign that it was time for a new haircut.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, only now realizing that they were still holding hands. She hesitated to pull away, unsure of how he would react if he recognized the intimacy of the moment. “It seems like I’m always giving you a headache…” 

“You’re not,” he slowly let her hand go and displayed a little smile on the corner of his lips.

Just like that, he was back to the girls when they suspiciously gaped at the pair, as if they weren’t married.

Itachi quietly watched as Tomoe walked, this time ahead, as they approached Naka River in the middle of the afternoon. The last grip the season had on the weather gave them a sunny spring day to enjoy, and Itachi had some free time for himself. In the morning, they sat by the chabudai to have breakfast and he asked her if he could sleep in their bedroom, if she felt comfortable about it. Tomoe was slightly shocked, for lack of better words to describe, caught off-guard by a topic she was sure Itachi would never address.

But she accepted. There was no reason to keep him outside once she wasn’t the one who prohibited him from sleeping on the futon beside her own. She did want to ask what changed his mind after so long but refrained from it, guessing he had his reasons, and even believed the quiet arrangement they had would perdure for the entirety of their lifetime together.

Some people took longer than others to process things—she still didn’t want to talk to Minori and Itama after what happened, so she didn’t judge him. Perhaps it was his way of mourning a love that couldn’t have a happy ending.

After some deliberation, they decided to go on a picnic by the riverbank. Tomoe chuckled lightly, reflecting on her past experiences in Tetsu no Kuni she proposed it. 

“Picnics there were pretty much non-existent,” she remarked with a glint in her eye, happy that it wasn't her reality anymore. Living in Konoha, she could go on as many picnics as she wanted. “Unless someone has a penchant for picnicking in the snow!” The thought amused her greatly, and a bright smile broke across her face, illuminating her features. Itachi couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly her joy seemed to surface, even from the simplest of thoughts.

For Itachi, seeing her in such high spirits felt uplifting, as if a heavy burden he had been carrying was gradually being lifted, allowing him to breathe a little easier. 

Arriving at the riverbank, they were greeted by a scene that felt almost magical—the gentle sound of the water flowing over rocks created a soft, melodic background, a symphony of nature that calmed the soul.

As he began to unpack the small basket they had brought along, Itachi stole glances at Tomoe, who was momentarily enraptured by the beauty surrounding them. The sunlight sparkled on the water’s surface, and the breeze played with her hair as it danced around her shoulders. When she finally turned back to him, the foundation for their picnic was already set; a picnic cloth lay spread out on the grass, adorned with an array of colorful, beautifully arranged ceramic plates that displayed the vibrant-colored food she had prepared.

He watched her expectantly, a hint of expectation in his expression, as if he had orchestrated the entire setup simply to elicit a reaction from her. 

“I’m hungry,” she admitted, momentarily frozen by the sight. These simple words were all that could escape her lips as few took in the sight of Itachi. He looked ethereal, the afternoon light casting a soft glow around him. It was as if a festive celebration was taking place within her chest with the scene, a flurry of excitement and warmth stirred by his mere presence.

“Then come eat,” he responded softly, gently gesturing toward the space he had prepared for her between the plates. His voice was inviting, filled with warmth.

Tomoe felt an almost magnetic pull, as if the wild beating of her heart had thawed the hesitation within her. With a newfound courage, she made her way to him, her steps light and buoyant, before settling down on the picnic cloth beside him. As she began to eat, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment was something truly special—a beautiful blend of a blossoming friendship and the comforting embrace of nature.

Though in her very core she realized she expected it to be more.

It was no secret, as undeniable and predictable as a river winding its path toward the sea, that Tomoe would inevitably find herself falling in love with Uchiha Itachi.

Chapter Text

As dusk settled into night, Tomoe found herself grappling with a long-familiar restlessness. The air was thick with an electric tension as she tossed and turned beneath the weight of augury. She tried to focus on the steady rhythm of Itachi's breathing a few centimeters away, hoping its tranquility would lull her into slumber. However, her mind wandered, flitting from one thought to another, never quite settling. Despite her tiredness, each attempt to surrender herself to sleep was thwarted, plunging her deeper into agony.

In desperation, she forced her eyelids shut, hoping the engulfing darkness would shield her from her racing thoughts. Yet, just as she began to drift on the edge of sleep, a peculiar sensation jolted her back to alertness. It wasn’t the mere presence of Itachi beside her that unsettled her; they had shared a bedroom before, their bodies forming a soft cocoon of familiarity after their time married. This was something stranger, a restless feeling that gnawed at her from within.

With a resigned sigh, Tomoe swung her legs out of the duvet and padded across the tatami floor, her footsteps muffled in the stillness of the night. The house was cloaked in silence, every shadow cast by the moonlight forming shapes that danced along the walls. She meandered through the dimly lit corridors, a soft glow from the windows illuminating her journey, until she finally arrived in the kitchen. It was there that she hoped to find solace in a comforting cup of tea—her final attempt to coax her racing thoughts into submission and embrace the sanctuary of sleep.

Unbeknownst to her, Itachi was keenly aware of her absence almost immediately after she slipped from the futon. His instincts, honed by times of vigilance and protectiveness, stirred him from his slumber. Leaving the warmth of his futon, he quietly followed her to the kitchen, careful not to intrude upon her moment of solitude but with a persistent tug of concern. The bond they shared was still a bit fragile, tethered by unspoken words and hidden vulnerabilities, and he wanted to be there for her even in silence, to forge that bond stronger.

Tomoe’s red eyes found his shadow on the wooden floor first, ascending to his figure still to enter the space. She sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “Couldn’t sleep. Did I wake you up?”

“No,” Itachi shook his head. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“No,” it was Tomoe’s turn to shake her head.

“Was it a nightmare?”

He had become so much more attentive in the past weeks. Not that he hadn't been before, but it always felt like it was easily forgettable as if he paid attention to her because he had to, not because he wanted to. Tomoe couldn't exactly pinpoint when things changed. It was subtle, a foundation laid with patience throughout time.

“Not a nightmare… More like a feeling that doesn't let me sleep.”

“What feeling?”

“Don’t know. I just feel this sometimes. Like a sixth sense or something.”

“So you have felt that before?” He asked. His eyebrows raised as soon as he realized, “I’m just asking a few questions because I think I’ve never seen you have trouble sleeping…”

Itachi was questioning if her inability to fall asleep was being caused by his presence, so close in the room.

Tomoe’s lips twitched but she hid it behind the teacup, sipping on lukewarm tea. “Since I came back to Konoha, it’s the first time.” Itachi nodded. “And yes, I’ve felt that before, a few times. Weird, no? The samurai I met always told me I was a little weird, like the shinobi world I came from…”

For the second time that night, Itachi shook his head. “It’s not weird. It can be a gift.”

“Yeah,” Tomoe chuckled timidly. “Kind of. But it seems to not work sometimes, since nothing is happening.”

A heavy moment of silence enveloped the room after Tomoe and Itachi finished their conversation. She initially believed that once he had addressed her inquiry about the late-night chamomile tea, he would take his leave. Much to her surprise, though, Itachi remained standing there, an unwavering presence beside her.

“You should go back to sleep—”

Before he could continue, a frantic scream pierced the quiet night, echoing from outside. “Tomoe!”

In a flash, Itachi activated his Sharingan, its crimson hue illuminating the tension in the air. Tomoe placed her teacup gently down, the porcelain clinking softly against the chabudai, before stepping toward him. She grasped his forearm, halting him in his tracks. 

“I think it’s Obito-san’s voice,” she whispered, urgency lacing her tone as she closed her eyes briefly to focus. “Don’t you recognize his chakra?”

“Mhm,” Itachi replied, his voice steady but laced with concern. “But it’s possible that someone is copying his chakra signature.”

Tomoe's mind raced, attempting to gather her thoughts amidst the rising anxiety. While Itachi’s assessment was logical, a persistent agitation in her gut, the kind that had unsettled her sleep earlier, urged her to act.

“I don’t think so,” she insisted quietly, a flicker of determination sparking within her. “Let’s see what’s happening.”

Before Itachi could articulate an objection, she slipped past him, propelled by an instinctual urgency. She slid the shoji door and stepped out into the moonlit night, a palpable chill brushed against her skin. She threw Itachi’s haori around her shoulders, its comforting weight mingling with a sense of trepidation.

“Obito-san…?” she called hesitantly, her voice slicing through the stillness.

“Tomoe!” Obito’s voice was laced with desperation as he stood in the middle of their front yard, breathless and wild-eyed, as if he had sprinted through a fevered dream. He reached for her, grabbing her wrist with a force that shocked her to her core. Itachi, ever composed yet alert, moved forward, grasping her hand just above Obito’s to draw her back protectively. His dark eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the older man with an intensity that held questions yet unasked.

“You need to come with me!” Obito’s plea fell from his lips like a prayer, desperate and urgent.

“She doesn’t need to go anywhere, Obito-san,” Itachi replied, his voice grave and authoritative though respectful about their age difference, resonating with a weight that silenced the air around them. 

Obito didn’t flinch, but the reality of his demand crashed down on him as he wrestled with the implications of asking for Tomoe, someone else’s wife (and a person of her own), to join him without further explanation. In that moment, he seemed to forget his surroundings, fixated solely on the distress that surged within him.

Tomoe could feel the grip tightening around her wrist, pain shooting through her arm as Obito’s fingers pressed harder, awakening an instinctive fear in her. Itachi’s eyes flickered dangerously as they almost transitioned to a sanguine hue.

“Tomoe—”

“You’re hurting her,” Itachi interrupted, his tone low and menacing, an unmistakable warning lying beneath. “Please, let go.”

In an attempt to diffuse the brewing tension, Tomoe interjected, her voice laced with a soothing calm that belied her internal turmoil. “Obito-san…”

“Let go, Obito-san,” Itachi repeated, his voice much more commanding now, a manifestation of quiet authority. “I won’t be asking again.”

“What is happening?” Tomoe managed to ask, her brow furrowed with concern and confusion.

“Rin is delivering!” Obito’s admission spilled out with an urgency that nearly overwhelmed him. He still clutched Tomoe’s wrist tightly, but now desperation dripped from his every word as if confessing the stakes might somehow lessen their weight. “She’s in agonizing pain, and I’m terrified to use Kamui to take her to the hospital. Grandma is with her, but she’s too old! I’m afraid something bad will happen if we leave. You’re the closest person here who works in the hospital…”

For several seconds, Tomoe stood stunned, the gravity of his words sinking into her consciousness. The reality of the situation crashed over her, forcing her to the brink of action. There was no time to lose, no room for doubt.

“You need to know I help there sometimes, Obito-san. I’m not a medical-nin” she replied swiftly, determination underlining her words. “I’ve only assisted in a few childbirths—”

“Please.” His plea cut through the night with a raw vulnerability. “Rin needs your help. I don't know where else to go.”

The urgent feeling that had gnawed at her earlier suddenly crystallized into something tangible—something was indeed happening, a consequence of fate that demanded their immediate attention.

“Okay,” she said.

At that moment, her consent was more important than Itachi’s, and he understood that when he let her wrist go. Obito wasted no time, enveloping Tomoe’s waist with his arm, steadfast and strong though he was shaking to his core, and moved her feet off the ground, hooking his other arm beneath her knees. A deep frown was between Itachi’s eyebrows as he watched Tomoe slowly disappear into Obito’s Kamui.

Her eyes were still on him when a new dimension enveloped her body.

The cry of a newborn baby was always a poignant reminder that life, in all its complexities, was a cycle ever unfolding. The soaring joys, the crushing sorrows, and the eventual inevitability of the end… Each day marked the passage of existence; for every heartbeat that ceased, another began its journey.

The baby lay still in Tomoe’s arms, not crying. For an unsettling minute following a long, agonizing dawn—where Rin’s pained screams pierced the air—there was an eerie stillness that enveloped the room. The contrast was striking; after the chaos of her labor, the sudden absence of noise felt almost surreal. The room, once filled with echoes of distress, sheltered the tree Uchiha women from the early morning chill. Four Uchiha women. 

“A girl,” Obito’s grandmother announced. The baby was wrapped in a proper towel, patches of blood all over Tomoe’s hands and even her legs as proof of the restless night they shared.

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, illuminating the scene, the silence seemed to stretch on indefinitely, creating a haunting backdrop to the new life that had just begun. Obito’s grandmother assisted Rin, but Tomoe’s eyes scrutinized the frail body in her arms.

“My baby…” Rin weakly said. “Why is she not crying?”

Obito, who had been taken out of the room by his grandmother, rushed inside as soon as he heard Rin’s voice. His eyes followed the trail of blood until he found his newborn daughter in Tomoe’s arms, still not crying and still not moving. The only thing he thought at that moment was that the baby was simply too small for the world he knew, and panic ran through his body like an electric shock.

His eyes then went to Rin, bloodied and very tired. Guilt flooded his mind to let her go through such pain to give birth as if it wasn't a natural thing. But one thing was just a million times more terrifying than everything Obito had ever faced in his life, as a shinobi and as a man—his daughter was out of the womb and still motionless. A short film played in his mind of when they chose the name of the baby. 

Daiki, for a boy. He would always remind Obito of his survival and the bright light he saw the day he thought he would leave Kakashi and Rin behind. As if his unborn son had come to save him from death way before he was even born.

Yume, for a girl. Rin was a dream come true, a part of his life that always made him feel alive. That girl would be the extension of his beloved dream, the last part of the puzzle to make him complete.

“Yume,” Obito called as his mind was brought back to the present. The name fit her more than he had thought, he was sure the moment he set eyes on her. 

Tomoe moved the frail body delicately to Obito’s arms. At first, it was like holding her felt prohibited—dirty hands like his own shouldn't be touching a jewel. But since the very first day Rin found out she was pregnant, Yume recognized her father. His presence, his voice, the touch of his hand even from a distance. Perhaps she waited for him to come to greet her into this world, to finally hold her in his arms so she could realize.

She was home.

Yume started to cry when the sun was already fully out from behind the mountains that circled Konohagakure. Rin and Obito did too.

Obito’s grandmother promptly helped Tomoe walk outside. They had numbed their tiredness throughout the night, but it was already time for the pain from exhaustion to show. Tomoe couldn't imagine how tired Rin must’ve been all night—and she wondered if it would be so agonizing to deliver when it was her time.

Surprisingly, it didn't scare her away from the idea of giving birth. It did the opposite. All Tomoe could feel at that moment was an immense desire to be a mother.

“A penny for your thoughts, dear?” Obito’s grandmother brought her back to the moment, extending Itachi’s haori back to her. They cleaned themselves with lukewarm water in a bowl. “You look exhausted…” Her sympathetic smile prompted a small smile from Tomoe.

“Quite a little.”

Obito’s grandmother had nothing to speak against it, though there was a shadow behind Tomoe’s eyes, a hunger for something the older woman knew well for a moment of her life, many years before. She took Tomoe’s hand to her and refused to let go.

“It frightened you, didn't it?” Tomoe had an inkling to positively answer but didn't. The scene indeed wouldn't fade from her memories soon. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine on your turn.”

The older woman said those words as if Tomoe had shared her deepest fears. It wasn't a mystery hard to dissolve—what woman hasn't feared childbirth in the past? What woman would not fear it in the future?

It shocked Tomoe a little, though she was much more introspective since Yume didn't cry. Terrified even, that she wouldn't cry ever. A lot of thoughts started to come out of the shadows of her mind, and it was easy to thaw those solid thoughts with the reminder—

Itachi does not love me.

Was it a reassurance? Certainly not. It just made things worse, thinking she would have to go through such an experience because she had to give the Uchiha an heir, and not because they simply wanted a child. Perhaps Itachi would rather die without an heir and leave this to Sasuke, which was a lie Tomoe didn't know about.

Itachi had been thinking a lot in the past moments they shared.

He never thought he was fit to be a dad, and never looked upon the idea of having kids if not out of the necessity of having an heir, someone that would be born to continue the bloodline, to keep the wheel turning. When he thought back to Izumi, this was what was bound to happen. Itachi would still love his children to death, just as he experienced loving Sasuke and being capable of giving everything up for him. 

But the weight of having children with Izumi would be the same. It would be a dream, but also a burden. Maybe something akin to what his parents went through when he was born.

Keep the wheel turning.

Yet his thoughts completely changed with Tomoe, and her different way to live a life bestowed upon her. She was much more different than him, even with all the resemblance that made them so similar to each other. Itachi couldn't pinpoint when he started to have those thoughts, so different from the first ones he had when he met her, and it annoyed him to no end. 

It seemed everything related to his wife was precisely built to make him lose his mind, but it was also kind of fun. Exciting. Different from everything he experienced.

Itachi stood quietly as he watched Tomoe emerge from the modest house, her figure still enveloped in the familiar fabric of his haori. The evening light cast a soft glow around her, but he could tell her mind was adrift, lost to the fatigue that clung to her like an unwelcome shadow. At first, she seemed unaware of his presence, her eyes dull and unfocused. It wasn’t until she caught sight of him that she blinked in surprise, though she didn’t recoil or retreat.

“Oh…” she murmured, voice heavy with exhaustion. “You’re still here…”

“I am,” Itachi replied, the steadiness of his tone a balm to her weary spirit. Those answers of his were still a bit funny to her. “Do you think I’be be able to get some sleep while you’re here?”

Tomoe shook her head. “No, nothing like that… It’s a relief that you are. It was a long night, I just thought you were tired and wanted some sleep.”

“Not as much as you are. I can manage,” Itachi took one step closer and crouched enough to hook the back of her knees on his arm, his other arm supporting her back. Surprisingly, she didn't gasp, and if she was surprised, she didn't show. Nestling to the warmth his embrace provided, Tomoe’s eyes felt even heavier.

“You don't need to carry me like this…”

Not that she made any movement to free herself.

Itachi chortled, the vibration of his chest almost making Tomoe purr. Her mind was between consciousness and unconsciousness, but still thought about every single Uchiha that would witness him carrying her in bridal style through the District streets. Her cheeks felt hot and she surreptitiously hid her face on his chest.

“If you don’t mind me, I’d like to do something for my wife.” Tomoe looked up to see if she wasn't already delirious from sleep. Whether he did it purposefully or not, she could notice an undertone to his voice. Something that said to him there was more to his words than what it seemed. 

He was talking about Obito and the way he carried her into his Kamui.

“I don't know why I have a feeling you’re not gonna let this go.”

“I may be a lot of things but resentfulness isn't my specialty.”

What a dry sense of humor. 

Tomoe wished she had a little bit of sleep before she came to aid Rin, just so she could be entirely there to understand what exactly Itachi was talking about. To enjoy the moment more and see more of this side of him.

“Can we go to Naka Shrine?” She changed the subject.

“Now?” Itachi asked. Where was he? Did they already arrive home? Were there too many people staring? His warmth was a strong lull. She didn't know how much she was able to resist. “Why do you want to go there now?”

Tomoe sighed, almost yawning. “It’s calm. I can thank the Uchiha ancestors for the night that ended well, too. Her name’s Yume,” she kept babbling, affected by the lack of sleep. “She didn't cry for minutes after she was born. It didn't seem like she was breathing at all, so it’s a miracle. I intended to go there alone but you were waiting…”

“So I was a bucket of icy water?”

“Kind of,” she yawned. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he chortled. “But you sound like you could use a good rest first—”

It was the last thing Tomoe heard before she drifted to her earned sleep. Itachi tucked her into her futon and had time to make rice, eggs, and chicken fillets. Then he soundlessly left. Though Tomoe slept, watched by Itachi’s crow, he went to Naka Shrine in her place to thank the Uchiha deity for the new life that blossomed beneath their wings. There was no list of what she was thankful for more than that, but Itachi was sincerely thankful for all the things that happened until the very moment he stood there.

When Tomoe woke up, the friend she was already familiar with landed on her shoulder. A plate with fresh bread and a cup of warm milk was on the chabudai outside the bedroom.

They found out easily how they enjoyed outings, all within the comforting embrace of Konoha’s borders. 

To Tomoe, the village felt vastly larger than it had in her childhood memories, a kaleidoscope of old familiar streets and hidden nooks that now sparkled with new significance. The couple often found themselves wandering to the tranquil banks of the Naka River, sometimes leaving behind the company of Takada and Tsubaki. On other days, they strolled along the edges of the village, where the greenery began to blur into untamed nature. 

In their home, it wasn't different. The number of times they sat around the chabudai just to talk about many things increased. On the night of the lastest full moon, Tomoe excitedly introduced Itachi to a dance she had once performed at the annual Festival of The Dancing Swords in Tetsu no Kuni—and he attentively watched every moment from the engawa, a small bonfire on the ground between them. Her graceful movements echoed the rhythm of her childhood, stirring memories of colorful lanterns and jubilant laughter.

As they explored, both Konoha and their blossomed friendship, Tomoe learned that Itachi had an affinity for swimming. She didn’t mind his swimming sessions; instead, she often settled herself on a picnic cloth spread over the warm grass, lost in the pages of a new volume from the interesting—in lack of better words—Icha Icha series.

When a man is likely enamored by a woman, he spies on her? This is what the book said. Tomoe stole glances to see if Itachi spied on her on the grass, but every time she looked, he was entertained with water.

The sun beat down, turning the lazy afternoon into an idyllic retreat. Immersed in her story, she was blissfully unaware of Itachi’s gaze, which lingered on her from the riverbank. To him, she looked as if she were floating amidst the wildflowers, her spirit as free as the wind rustling through the leaves. He noticed how her fingers, both strong and delicate, skimmed over the pages, and how strands of her hair danced in the gentle breeze, momentarily escaping the confines of her small braid. Before they left home, Itachi had thought how time had passed a little, that she could already tie her hair back.

Tomoe’s striking red eyes flickered across the text, oblivious to Itachi's heavily interested gaze. 

Whether she was a lucky strike or meticulously chosen to be where she was, Itachi recognized the forged path he walked on, the knowledge that accompanied him never let him forget he was realms away from being considered a lucky man, before he met her. 

It became a familiar routine for Tomoe and Itachi, a cherished escape from the sweltering summer heat. On those sun-drenched days, they sought solace by the Naka’s riverbank, where cool breezes danced across the surface. Tomoe often perched herself on the bank, her choice of short dresses intentional, allowing her bare feet to splash playfully in the gentle waves. While Itachi swam, gracefully cutting through the water, she reveled in the miniature waves that his movements created, reminding her of the carefree demeanoshe craves for herself. Yet, an invisible distance lingered between them, neither breaking the unspoken barrier.

They found silence in the presence of each other was also comfortable.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky and fatigue set in, Itachi finally emerged from the water, droplets glistening on his skin like liquid diamonds. By that time, Tomoe had already pulled her feet out of the water, her focus shifting to the vibrant flora surrounding them. She wandered along the shore, her fingers delicately plucking flowers to fill the vase that Shisui had gifted her, always determined to keep it brimming with color.

Nestled among the underbrush were clusters of fragrant water mints, their green leaves complementing the vivid blooms scattered across the blanket they had laid out for their picnic. As Tomoe arranged the flowers she had gathered, her gaze was drawn to an enticing lilac bush, its deep purple petals beckoning her closer. The sweet, intoxicating scent enveloped her, and she couldn't help but smile at the beauty of the moment.

“This attracts bees to the house,” Itachi’s voice broke through her reverie, startling her. She turned, and for a heartbeat, she met his gaze, a mixture of surprise and amusement crossing her face. Itachi had joined her, his presence suddenly tangible as he attempted to bridge the emotional space that had grown between them. She knew every flower likely invited bees, yet his words were a playful invitation to share in her small joys, a gesture that hinted at his desire to close the gap between them.

However, in her moment of distraction, Tomoe misjudged her footing. As she reached for a particularly beautiful blossom, she stumbled, her heart racing. She barely managed a warning shout before she found herself completely submerged, the cool water enveloping her in an unexpected embrace. The shock of the lake's chill took her breath away, and panic surged through her—she never learned how to swim. She was desperate to float and yet her efforts were in vain. All Tomoe could think of was the urge to surface and call out for Itachi, feeling utterly out of her depth, both in the water and in the tentacles of desperation. The sensation of the dress clinging to her body, dragging her down.

And then air in her lungs. Too much air. So fast she grasped the thing closest to her—it was hot. It felt hot to her touch, but also firm. The pressure Tomoe felt on her waist felt oddly comforting.

It was Itachi. He steadied her body with his own, arms firmly wrapped around her waist. And she had never been that close to him, she didn't know what to do. Tomoe wanted to float just so she could let him go, but the more she forced herself away to put some space between them, the more Itachi pulled her closer.

“I don’t know how to swim!” She confessed, still shaken by the shock and cold water, terrified that she didn't feel anything beneath her feet.

“I see,” he said calmly. “You could’ve told me.”

She could’ve told him so many things but the only thing she did was look up at him—and he was close. Too close to make her think he perhaps was a detailed product of her daydreams. Itachi was a walking representation of what every young woman of Konoha would dream about. Tomoe knew he attracted all types of feminine attention, and up close, she could tell why. His lashes were hard to miss, for a man. His lean muscled body deceived how strong his grip was. She had seen this first on the night he fixed the hen house, and the countless times they escaped to the riverbank. But touching is another story.

Closer, she realized how Itachi was everything she thought would be impossible landing right on her path—yet she couldn't look away.

“You’re dithering,” he said, his voice sounding rich and captivating, a bass that pulled at Tomoe’s heartstrings..

She was indeed dithering, not from the cold, though. “Yeah…”

Itachi's expression mirrored a subtle conflict, though Tomoe couldn't quite decipher the source of his unrest. His gaze remained locked on her face, and his hands held her gently, yet firmly, as if he were both captivated and cautious. An inexplicable pull drew her closer, the wet fabric of her dress a thin barrier separating them, yet feeling almost insubstantial.

When she finally mustered the courage to look up at him again, Itachi recognized the look in her eyes—familiar yet stirring in a way that made his mind a whirlwind. He had seen this gaze many times before, but it had never moved him. He was aware of the whispers and giggles that followed him in the Academy and even outside, remnants of teenage crushes that flared up whenever he crossed their paths. Those moments had never ignited anything within him; he simply didn’t resonate with the attention.

It wasn’t out of malice; he held no desire to hurt anyone's feelings, but rather, he had always felt detached, as if nothing clicked into place. He and Izumi just found a rhythm together, a gentle and comfortable bond that felt right. She was an Uchiha, and one day he would need a wife. Izumi was kind, patient, dependable, smart and undeniably beautiful. It felt like the perfect match.

So, as he held Tomoe in his arms for the very first time, an unfamiliar sensation washed over him. The intensity of her red eyes sparked something deep inside—a feeling that transcended his previous experiences. In this moment, Itachi felt the weight of possibility, the fragility of the air between them, and the undeniable truth that the fate that led them to that moment was unlike any he had known before.

Uchiha Itachi wanted to kiss his wife, but he held back. And he didn't know why he resisted those eyes that told him she wanted the same.

Chapter Text

Uchiha Itachi fell ill and died.

The news was a shocking revelation that shattered the expectations of many, both those who supported him and those who opposed him, particularly given the circumstances surrounding his death. How could a man of extraordinary skill and strength, revered by allies and enemies alike, perish so suddenly? It felt inconceivable that a still such a young yet legendary ninja could be reduced to mere fragility, akin to a pebble that could be carelessly kicked to the side of a road.

Sasuke was in shambles, of course. What to expect? Itachi was his older brother, someone he would always look up to. It was all but black and orange flames and then there was nothing. The time he spent looking at Itachi’s dead body seemed more significant than the entirety of the time they had back home, all those years reduced to nothing but a memory. Sasuke felt like the defenseless child he once was.

Itachi was sick and didn't tell anyone. Who was there to tell? The circumstances of his sickness were still a blur to the woman who was supposed to be by his side through it all, and it felt like so much time had passed…

Tomoe wondered why he didn't tell her—he could choose to not say a single word about his struggles even with his brother, but with her? They shared a house. A life. She judged herself one of the first people who deserved to know. They sure didn't share their secrets, but a life or death situation? She deserved to know.

Tomoe tried to call for him as soon as she realized the first tears rolling down her cheeks. “Itachi…” But as if she was inside a bubble, not even Sasuke came across the sound of her utterance. “Itachi!”

Itachi was dead—he couldn't hear. But why was Sasuke not hearing anything? Why was–

Tomoe regained control over her emotions as fast as she could, and as soon as her tears dried, she realized…

It was all a dream. A nightmare. Whatever it was, it wasn't real.

Time itself suddenly seemed to bend to Tomoe’s will, rewinding like an old tape until she found herself face-to-face with a version of Itachi that was even more unrecognizable than the lifeless one she had mourned in vain. Clad in a dark cloak emblazoned with ominous red clouds, he bore the insignia of a rogue ninja—a rough scar bisecting Konoha’s emblem on his hitai-ate. The fierce rebellion against his roots clung to him like a second skin, and if his countenance made him appear a little out of reach in real life, it couldn't be compared to what Tomoe testified.

The circumstances that led him away were still as distant as this nightmare was from reality though. Tomoe saw Itachi in the rain a few times in a place she didn't recognize, seemingly emotionless. She didn't try to approach. She didn't recognize that place, and she knew he was far from home.

From mission to mission, and how he had his way of getting to know how Sasuke was doing, Tomoe watched as Itachi’s life unwound into a melancholic story.

Until one night explained it all. He was so young, perhaps her age when she first learned how to balance a sword bigger than herself in a folklore dance. His parents, his aunties, and uncles, his cousins…

“Itachi?” Though Tomoe had seen her only a few times, Izumi’s older self looked just as she did younger. It was like she hadn’t aged at all, and was hardly mistakeable. “What are you doing here?” 

He said nothing, and Tomoe realized it was just part of who he was, whether his life turned around differently or not. The man she was looking at was still the man she married, just a few years younger.

Itachi got closer. Izumi’s face denounced her bewilderment. Even his steps sounded too menacing for someone who was supposed to be her lover.

They were teenagers.

“Itachi-kun, you’re scaring me. What’s happening?”

But he was still stubborn enough to say something as Izumi looked utterly lost. Tomoe had a piece of her who wanted to warn Izumi what was to come, but her mouth simply didn't move.

Itachi’s Sharingan started to spin in a pattern Tomoe had seen before, to save her. Izumi’s dojutsu, of course, wasn't enough to stop what was to come. When she fell limp, he was there to hold her. It felt like an eternity, and Tomoe was there to watch a greedy version of her husband kill his lover. It was also the worst example she could’ve gotten of the effects of a jutsu like Tsukuyomi, and though Itachi was utterly silent through Izumi’s murder, Tomoe knew it couldn't have been another one of his abilities.

“Itachi…” She wasn't calling for him. It was more like when someone feels sorry for someone else. She felt sorry for that version of him. Everything Tsunade said, and what her parents told her about what Itachi would’ve gone through.

The dream unfolded vividly, revealing the full extent of Itachi's struggles and sacrifices. Tomoe witnessed Shisui's desperate yet valiant attempts to thwart the coup, a mission that ultimately cost him his life. She saw how Itachi, in the depths of his grief, gained his Mangekyō Sharingan—a painful transformation fueled by loss. As the visions continued, she discovered Itachi's profound exploration of the fractured history between the Uchiha and the Senju clans, filled with the weight of betrayal and sorrow. Amidst this turmoil, Tomoe observed how Sasuke emerged as the sole beacon of hope in Itachi's dark world, illuminating his path even as he was compelled to betray his family. It was heartbreaking to understand how Itachi was forced into the role of a spy within his clan, haunted by inner conflicts that ran deeper than any typical turmoil faced by a teenage boy. The realization struck her hard: the events preceding the Uchiha clan's massacre had left indelible scars on Itachi's character, shaping him in profound ways—even in a reality where that tragedy had never occurred. She envisioned him as a child, carrying burdens far too heavy for his small shoulders.

And she saw him on the day she was leaving Konoha.

For everything she had witnessed, this moment stood out as the only moment that couldn't be dismissed as mere fantasy. Tomoe smiled gently at Itachi, her heart fluttering with a mix of admiration and trepidation as she considered the imposing presence of the men surrounding him. She knew that as he grew older, he would inevitably mirror their strength and poise. Rather than remaining an observer, detached like a viewer in a film, she allowed herself to slip back into the innocence of her childhood, feeling the familiar pang of abandonment. And there he was—always there.

Itachi had been a constant in the recesses of her mind, embodying her hopes and desires for a homecoming; to evolve into a figure to be proud of—the Senju Tomoe of Konohagakure, a name that held weight and significance.

As Itachi walked away, the world around her dissipated into a haze of smoke, and she found herself thrust back into reality, standing in a cavern illuminated by the faint flicker of light.

A sound pierced through the stillness. The unmistakable clash of a fight reached her ears as she recognized the voices within the chaos. Sasuke, just a few years younger than the boy she’d known, exuded spirited defiance, his hair tousled in an endearing yet rebellious manner. While he retained an air of familiarity, it was clear that something about him had shifted; the essence of who he was seemed untouched but charged with newfound energy.

Itachi appeared as she remembered him from that fateful dinner—a time when she had been thrust into an engagement without a say. His hair, perhaps slightly shorter now, framed a face that had taken on sharper features, echoing the wisdom and burden he had borne.

Every narrative carries its purpose: a beginning that draws us in, a meandering middle filled with tension, and ultimately, an end that ties all threads together.

As Tomoe’s understanding deepened, the fragments of her recent visions began to congeal into a coherent story. She witnessed Itachi, weak but resolute, struggling to make his way towards Sasuke, and suddenly, it all clicked. The beginning of their journey, the intricate twists and turns in between—it all illuminated the tragic conclusion. It felt as if these revelations unveiled the realities of Itachi’s life outside the boundaries of that surreal experience. Before she could fully grasp it, tears began to spill down her cheeks, each drop etching silent trails across her skin until they pooled at her chin and lingered there, a poignant reminder of her sorrow.

Uchiha Itachi had, indeed, passed before his younger brother, Sasuke.

As images raced through her mind, the tears threatened to blur her vision once more, but she fought to maintain focus. An overwhelming pressure enveloped her, and yet, paradoxically, she felt oddly weightless—a sensation reminiscent of that fateful day she slipped and fell into the river.

Itachi’s face emerged from the depths of her thoughts, distorted yet tantalizingly close. Closer still, she could almost feel him—his voice ringing out to her, calling her name from beyond the overwhelming torrent. Then she remembered—the moment he leaped into the river, a desperate act to rescue her, blurring the line between past and present as memory and reality intertwined.

Underwater.

“Tomoe, wake up.”

As if she had been pulled out of water, Tomoe opened her eyes and pulled as much air into her lungs as she could. Itachi looked at her with an expression she never saw on his face. She had seen him worried before, but this time he looked much more unsure of what to do.

“I-Itachi…?”

But he was alive and it was all that mattered.

“You were having a nightmare.”

Tomoe blinked as if she couldn't understand his words. He was so close her eyes roamed his face and could notice the little hairs spread around it.

“Yeah…” She took her time. Itachi sat patiently by her futon, never really making her feel like she had to share what her dream was about, more to make sure she was okay. “It was so real… I thought you were dead and I…”

Eye to eye, Tomoe reflected on the warmth that enveloped her in the presence of someone like Itachi. It was rare to find someone willing to listen without a hint of impatience, and that made all the difference. He sat across from her, a steady figure of calm amidst her turbulent thoughts. His expression was devoid of judgment or haste; instead, it exuded a quiet curiosity mingled with the patience of someone who truly cared.

“Hope it’s not a disappointment,” he said, his voice low and reassuring as if he could read the unspoken fears lurking in her mind. Even though she was staring at him, alive and breathing steadily, those words held a power that reached deep inside her. “I’m honestly concerned that you’re dreaming of my death.”

“I wasn’t dreaming of your death,” she protested with a scowl, a flicker of embarrassment warming her cheeks. At that moment, the nervous tension that had coiled tightly within her seemed to unwind, courtesy of his dry humor, which always caught her off guard in the best way. “I don't have a say in what I dream or not, and it was weird. Like I was having a memory, but about what could have been if…”

The silence that followed hung in the air like a thick fog, filled with an understanding that didn’t require further explanation. It was a place they both knew too well, and there was no need to articulate the unthinkable.

As Itachi took her hand in his, the warmth radiating from his palm felt like a balm to her anxious heart. He reassured her gently, “Whatever it was, it isn't the reality now.” 

“Mhm.” Her gaze fell to their intertwined fingers, the simple gesture solidifying the bond they shared. It was a reminder that they were more than just friends; they were allies navigating the complexities of life together. “The dream was really long…”

“Mhm,” he mimicked her, “I heard you a few times.” A  hint of something unplaceable creeped into his tone, but Tomoe decided to ignore the subtle nuances, unsure if she truly wanted to pry further into a subject that he might wish to leave in the shadows.

After a brief moment, they stood and began preparing breakfast together. Well, more Tomoe than Itachi, but she appreciated his company. She skillfully commandeered the frying pan and the eggs, playfully insisting that Itachi keep his distance as she cracked the shells with precision. The banter flowed effortlessly, light and comfortable, as they transitioned seamlessly into their morning routine. 

As she moved through the motions, she couldn't help but be intrigued by Itachi’s Mangekyō Sharingan, particularly since Shisui was still very much alive. How could he have earned that? She skirted around the subject, hesitant to delve into it directly. But Itachi, ever perceptive, picked up on her curiosity and orchestrated a shift in the conversation, guiding her gently toward the topic she avoided. The satisfaction of their connection lit up her face—a shared moment of understanding that lingered in the air as they enjoyed their simple breakfast together.

After breakfast, as if he knew he was the topic in the house, Shisui stood with a big smile outside the entrance of the house as Itachi felt his chakra signature approaching.

“Shisui’s here,” Itachi said to Tomoe. He tried not to think too much about the smile she disclosed after hearing his best friend’s name.

Did she smile the same when she heard his friend’s name?

“Good! I was about to get some fresh vegetables for lunch. Invite him in.”

Nice. Itachi didn't want to even think about that irritating sensation spreading on his chest, but Tomoe seemed to sense something was off because she paused and scrutinized him as if she knew what his suddenly sour mood was about.

What has she done? He was a pacifist. There were not many things he would voluntarily go to war for.

“Are you alright?”

Sasuke. 

She caught a glimpse of it. She became great at that though. Itachi was the one who didn't keep up with her evolved abilities and learned how to mask his emotions better around her.

Konoha. 

“Considering my wife is suspiciously dreaming of my death, why would I not be alright?”

Now he sees it.

Her. 

There was some caged force inside that involuntarily pulled the most animalistic thoughts out of him just to think about anything that could hurt her, or keep her away.

A single red eyebrow lifted. Usually, she seemed to enjoy his dry sense of humor, but it just didn't sit right. There was something she wasn't catching behind his words.

“I know something is bothering you, but I will pretend I don’t.” Tomoe put some ryos inside her purse and squinted at Itachi as if he let her out on a secret she felt entitled to know... “For now you should invite Shisui in. I’ll be back in a minute.”

By the way she called him by that title, not speaking about it was not an option Itachi had. Tomoe was even being kind, giving him the time he thought he needed before he had to spill it all out. He was casually summarized to dust and only nodded. He watched as she walked to the entrance and greeted Shisui before she left.

His friend walked to him.

“You two seem to get along better now. So… have you…?”

Itachi gulped his saliva, still looking at the patch she took to the farmer’s market.

“Don’t start now…” were Itachi’s first words.

Shisui laughed. “I already know I won this one, brother!”

It had been some time since Itama and Minori last acted like a true married couple. Unlike their ancestors, who were often bound by duty and tradition, they had the privilege of choosing their partners freely. This freedom felt profound to Itama, especially as he often reflected on the stories of his family’s past. He recalled how Hashirama had loved Mito deeply, a love that seemed to glow even in the face of their responsibilities. In contrast, his grandfather Tobirama had made the decision to forgo a marriage, believing that leading Konoha was his primary duty. Yet, even with that commitment, Tobirama had to consider the necessity of continuing the family bloodline, a task complicated by his emotional distance. 

Itama was left wondering if Tobirama had ever known love for his wife, and that uncertainty weighed heavily on him. The most painful realization was this: he loved Minori. From the very start of their relationship, even before he had gathered the courage to propose, Itama knew he was captivated by her. He remembered the first time he had seen her, her vibrant red hair flowing around her like a fiery crown, an accessory that seemed to embody her spirit and confidence. At that moment, he understood that she was not just someone he wanted to spend his life with; she was someone he loved with a depth that transcended tradition and expectation.

Thinking about how his daughter did not get to experience the same only made the weight of the decision he took years before heavier.

Itama took Minori’s hand. They crossed the entrance of the Senju estate.

“You are acting weird today.”

The corners of his mouth flickered. How temperamental was his wife…

“I should know you well enough to understand what that is supposed to mean,” he plays with her fingers, entwined with his, now thinner by the results of time. Minori still was the most beautiful woman Itama had ever laid his eyes on, though. “But, unfortunately for me, even after all these years, I still need you to clarify. Was that an insult?”

“Hmm…” Minori faked dubiety, her expression bringing back years of memories together. “Not an insult, but I admit it was rough. Something in between an insult and merely an affirmation you should be more than used to.”

“My wife sounds poetic today.”

"My husband just happens to bring out the best in me," she replied with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with affection.

They chuckled like they were hiding from the younger couples holding hands and taking a walk. Their thoughts mirrored one another, though they didn't say a word. One particular young couple caught Minori’s attention as they strolled past Ichiraku Ramen.

“Look,” Minori squeezed Itama’s fingers between hers, gesturing her head so he could look where she looked. “Do you remember when we were just like that?”

“I do.”

Sadness engulfed Itama’s mind. Though having Tobirama’s blood in his veins, when it came to his only daughter, he was much more like Hashirama instead. Sentimental. Every decision he had to make about his daughter was based on logic rather than feelings, but it didn't mean it was easy. Even after years of making them, he still doubted if it was the right choice.

Itama missed Tomoe, but way before she could safely come back to the village. He always missed her, and the things he couldn't live with her, because he prioritized her safety.

“You know, as a father, I don't like the idea of her with Itachi.”

Minori rolled her eyes, “He’s a good man. I think she’s better with him than with anyone else.”

“It’s not because it’s him.” Itachi played nonchalantly but Minori knew him better than that. She looked at him through his lashes, the same old are you serious face that he knew and adored. “I swear on my life!”

Minori chuckled, “Mhm. I guess it’s just hard to be a dad then.”

Itama kept his silence but as if the universe was listening, they simply stumbled over Tomoe on the market—her small basket full of seasonings. It was so unpredictable Minori and Itama didn't know what to say, which was funny, because Tomoe carried the name of the Uchiha, but she was still their daughter.

“Tomoe…”

Even more unpredictable was the small smile she offered them.

“Mom, dad. I thought it would take longer for me to see you again.”

Her words shook both to their core, especially since her outburst the night she found out about the foundation that led to her marriage. They thought she’d hate them for the rest of their lives, that she’d want to be alone.

Minori quickly realized that they were wrong, while Itama realized how little they knew their own daughter.

“We thought that it was better to give you some space and time…” Somehow those words sounded terrible.

“Enough time was given already,” the smile didn't reach her eyes. “I thought you would go and try to talk to me meanwhile so I could say….” she sighed, “That I don't think your decision wasn't bad, in all of its aspects. Me and Itachi… we get along well.”

“You do?” asked Itama.

Tomoe smiled before she answered, “Yes. He became very good at communicating, and I learned that things happen the way they need to happen. He told me I shouldn’t hold a grudge against you.”

“Oh…” Minori glanced at Itama. “Did he?”

Tomoe nodded and politely smiled. They looked at her, still impressed that she had grown this much. Not far from where they stood, Tomoe saw two heads of dark hair that she was sure she had seen before. Izumi and Arata at Ichiraku Ramen.

“Hmph…” Itama chided. “That Uchiha boy thinks he’s doing us a favor?”

Minori pulled his hand down, clenching her teeth and speaking through them, “He is doing us a favor, dear.”

Tomoe finally let out a small laugh, followed by her parent’s eyes that shone on her display of ease.

“He’s not doing anyone a favor. It’s just the way he is.”

Oh.

Oh.

Minori would recognize that defensive stance from a mile away—she had done it so many times, telling her father time and time again that beneath the hard exterior, Itama was a good, caring man.

The talk was small but it was enough for things to be back to normal, as normal as it could be. It felt like a huge weight was lifted. Tomoe followed her patch, carefully avoiding Ichiraku.

After cleaning the henhouse and bringing nineteen eggs to the kitchen, Itachi lit a bonfire near the pond as a reward for the hard work. Nineteen eggs were a boost to Tomoe’s ego, who would certainly take Shisui’s compliments to another level. She found immense joy in the brother-sister relationship they built throughout the time they spent together.

Speaking of him, Itachi was determined that he would ask where Tomoe's feelings for Shisui landed. He felt a little bit confused about their proximity—not that she or even Shisui had indeed given any signs it was more than a brotherly relationship, but still, given that his marriage to Tomoe wasn't founded in love first, it wasn't an option to be discarded easily. 

Feelings were treacherous, infatuation the most of them all. 

Just thinking about it made Itachi boil inside. Was he being a fool? Perhaps. But there are certain things in life you’ll only know if you ask.

When she came to the engawa wearing a long red dress and a white and dark blue haori with a small uchiwa embroidered on the back, she smiled and Itachi almost hesitated in his queries.

“Do you like Shisui?”

“Huh?” Tomoe sounded immediately, blinking unsure of what his words were implying. “Well, of course I like him. He’s a nice guy to be around. Why do you ask this now?”

Itachi didn't say anything, swerving his eyes from her as he swallowed that answer dryly. She didn't even hesitate. Instead of taking that answer to the pit of his memory, he insisted.

“Your relationship makes me think that you would be better off betrothed to him instead.”

But love isn't infatuation. 

“Itachi, you draw conclusions very fast and some very inaccurately most of the time.” Though Tomoe was being serious, she mocked him between the lines. “I wonder if you do it on purpose, to look cute.”

It isn't a feeling that changes with the seasons, but a choice that one makes. Patiently. Rationally.

“What do you mean?” He asked unsure.

“I mean to tell you seem wise beyond your years, but in the end you’re still a man. Somehow it’s cute how dense you are,” she rolled her eyes, which made Itachi even more confused. “You really don't see it, do you?”

Itachi shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with not being able to see something that was supposedly right on his face. Tomoe giggled at his struggle, but her cheeks gained a rosy hue that caught his attention. “I think it’s just because I’m not helping you out.”

Itachi arched his left eyebrow, “How would you help me out?”

“Telling you things your Sharingan can’t see.” She shrugged, swerving her eyes from the man who made her heart rebel inside her chest, begging to jump out of it and land right on his hands. When she mustered the guts to look at him again, Tomoe was surprised at how close Itachi was. 

“These eyes can see everything.”

Only five words, before the distance was cut to nothing just to prove him wrong. 

It wasn't an immediate response—when they realized, an electric shock had run through their bodies, starting from where their lips touched. Itachi opened his mouth a little, though still fixed in his place, and Tomoe sought for the softness of his upper lip, catching it between her own.

Tomoe’s heart hammered in her chest and her whole body felt like it was on fire. Itachi, on the other hand, felt cold—like when you hold something that can't break, and you’re in a cold sweat, with every nerve in your body afraid it might slip from your hands.

When the sound clock in their kitchen began to be heard from the engawa, their lips separated. Itachi followed Tomoe’s lips mindlessly when he opened his eyes. Tomoe’s eyes were still closed, as if she were trying to process what had just happened.

Tomoe opened her eyes, biting her lip to hide a smile.

“Not everything.”

Chapter Text

“I swear I saw them kissing!” 

Ayame sighed, long resigned to the fact that Tsubaki's imagination could sometimes spiral out of control, especially after dark. It had been a struggle to make her forget whatever crazy thing she thought she had seen on that unpredictable night, hours past curfew. The possibility that her child had been spying on other people’s homes at such ungodly hours made Ayame's head spin.

“Tsu-chan, they’re married! It’s obvious they kiss,” Takada explained. “Mom and Dad kiss, too. It’s a normal thing between adults.” A wave of embarrassment washed over Ayame. Takada’s cheeks flushed bright red with anger at the memory of missing the moment by mere seconds because she had been too mesmerized by the ethereal glow of the blue moon that hung low in the sky. She then grimaced, thinking how she’d grow into a woman someday and maybe start to enjoy sharing saliva with someone. 

“You weren’t supposed to be spying on people, let alone on the future clan leader!” Ayame shot back, her face growing warm for entirely different reasons. The push and pull of their banter always left her head spinning. “You both give me migraines…”

“Don’t say that! It’s bad for the baby,” protested the husband and father, his eyes wide with mock indignation. Blissfully unaware of the conversation, he entered the kitchen for a kettle. His relaxed demeanor and obliviousness added a layer of normalcy to the otherwise chaotic atmosphere.

“It’s true, mommy!” The twins chimed joyfully, their voices harmonizing perfectly in a playful, mischievous tone.

As for Ayame, she found herself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions. She had never truly expected to be in this position again. At what she considered an advanced age, she figured she was well beyond the threshold for another pregnancy. Sure, she wasn’t ancient, and the thought that she could still conceive even without precautions hung in the back of her mind, but it hadn’t crossed her mind that she would bring another child into the world.

The news had come as a tremendous surprise. It was a shock, a rush of elation mingled with the familiar twinge of fear. A very good, yet frightening development, and one that was sure to change everything.

Takada and Tsubaki thought it was another girl they’d teach to knit. Ayame, however, secretly agreed with her husband that it was a boy this time.

“You two are not allowed to leave this house past nine! Do you hear me?!”

The pain was almost physical, a relentless torment that felt like someone was methodically tearing his skin away. 

Itachi's senses were heightened, and yet they betrayed him. His once-reliable vision now fixated on the most mundane details, igniting feelings he had never anticipated. He found himself captivated by the way Tomoe’s hands delicately navigated the space around her, as if she were touching precious artifacts instead of mere objects. He noticed how her lashes fluttered gently, casting shadows that danced across her cheeks, an intimate ballet that both fascinated him during the day and tormented him at night. He was aware of her softer snores, which lulled him to a peaceful sleep more often than not, and found himself thinking it was regrettable that he missed it for so long, sleeping outside the bedroom. 

Those were the best sleep he had ever had—even the dreams that tormented him were about her.

What unsettled Itachi most was an uninvited awareness of her figure, particularly the way her dresses hugged her body. The fabrics, slightly loose, occasionally revealed glimpses of skin that ignited a ferocious heat within him, something that hadn't happened before, even once. With every subtle movement she made, a wave of frustration and longing washed over, igniting a passion that bordered on agony.

What kind of man had she made him to be?

Tomoe, blissfully unaware of Itachi’s internal struggles, still felt an overwhelming sense of mortification. She did her best to avoid him, slipping into the shadows whenever possible, yet not so overtly that she drew attention. It was a delicate dance, each sidestep amplifying her anxiety. Recently, she had begun to perceive Itachi as more aloof, his once-easy confidence now laced with an unsettling distance, which only deepened her discomfort.

Itachi didn't know how much he loathed the distance between them until the dreams of having her every way and everywhere possible took over his frequent nightmares of war. He frequently woke up in a cold sweat and found her peacefully sleeping with her face away from him.

It was only a kiss, but the consequences agonizingly continued for weeks until he got tired and… frustrated.

Itachi lowered the chopsticks almost silently. Dinner time was uninterrupted until he decided it was too much. If Tomoe weren't also silent, she wouldn't have heard. 7

“Are you avoiding me?”

The gulp Tomoe gave on the sencha was audible. “Are you expecting me to avoid you for some reason?”

Itachi almost chuckled. “What kind of question is this?”

It was clear as day she was avoiding him—he didn't want to address it, simply worried about his own thoughts. Ever since that night, he has not been the same. He thought she was left as troubled as he was; that everywhere she looked, she couldn’t find peace until she replayed that kiss in her head, over and over again; that she was left craving more just as he was.

She was the one to ignite it. How could she turn away and sleep when he was left to reminisce on every second of it, even when he was supposed to rest?

“We’re running in circles…” Itachi grumbled. He waited for Tomoe’s words, but they didn't come. Sighing, he added, “I have things I wish to tell you, but I can’t—if you keep acting like this. I thought you were better than that.”

Tomoe wasn’t that different from the women who’d fawn over him when all he did was exist. She, too, found herself dangerously leaning towards madness when it came to Uchiha Itachi.

“You don't have to say it like this…” Tomoe murmured, displeased. “I’m just… worried I might have crossed a boundary. I don't know how you feel about it. You hardly speak about your feelings.”

Itachi was totally guilty on this one.

“I lean to the introspective side when it comes to how I feel.” Because there was never anyone who truly wanted to know how he felt besides Sasuke, who Itachi judged was too young to understand. Shisui was the closest he had to it, but even then, there were things Shisui would never know because he was a friend, a brother. There are things about yourself that nobody knows, only you. 

The only person that’s supposed to know you like they know themselves is the one you chose to marry, because they become a part of you.

“I apologize.”

Tomoe blinked. In a matter of seconds, it felt like she was in front of a village elder instead of a man in his twenties. She sighed, though, and refrained from touching his hand, despite her desire to do so.

“You know, you don't have to apologize.” She thought about what she wanted to say. “I didn't know where your feelings for Izumi stood, and still acted on a whim. If somebody has to apologize, it’s me.”

As her words hung in the air, Itachi blinked again, taken aback. His feelings for Izumi felt like distant memories now, blurred and faded by the passage of time and the complexities of life. Enough time had passed since those emotions had flared with intensity. He had not expected his feelings to be put under scrutiny, especially not now, when he thought he had laid the past to rest.

But he wasn't straightforward with Tomoe, and he understood her worries.

There was a rift in the situation, nevertheless. For the first time in years, he didn't know what words could get him out of a situation. Itachi decided that instead of words, this was a situation that asked for action. He got up and went to her side, offering his hand for her to take. Tomoe took it without question, knowing well he wouldn't do anything to offend her. He never did, not even back when his lack of feelings toward her was clear as unmoving water.

As she stood in front of him, so close he could point out all of the faint freckles she had, Itachi kept silent for a solid minute.

It was funny to think about how he rejected her first-hand, and how she built him in a way that at some point, he found his thoughts drifting to her in random hours of the day. He couldn't even say the day or the hour, how long it had been since she started to occupy a huge part of his day. But looking down at her, Itachi realized he wanted to take another route.

“Tomoe,” he said her name, and it went like a shiver down her spine. His voice sounded like thunder in summer, but felt like a breeze in spring.

“Yes, Itachi?” She pleaded, his name on her lips sounding like a melody to his ears.

Itachi touched her cheek, and Tomoe leaned her face into it. It smelled like something sweet, from the dangos he had earlier, and it was also incredibly warm. Her hands were cold most of the time, so his naturally warmer temperature pulled her towards him.

“I want to…” His deep voice faded, and he didn't finish, but he didn't need to.

“Please.”

Their lips crashed like magnets that had spent so much time on opposite sides and finally were put face to face. Itachi’s hands held Tomoe’s face as if she intended to run away; instead, she closed her fists around the soft fabric of his haori. In need of air, Tomoe moved away slightly, and unaware of her battle, Itachi refused to let her go, running his right hand to the back of her head, tangling strands of her hair in his fingers.

Tomoe let out a gasp that sounded like a moan. The way Itachi eagerly inhaled made her blush intensely, and she tried to hide from his ravenous eyes, yet they followed. He frowned, and even so, she melted beneath his beauty.

She wanted to say something, anything, but her voice seemed to have given away. He didn’t accept the distance, pulling her again.

Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours.

None of them had ever felt something akin to that.

Without a word but with the sound of lips crashing against each other and heavy breaths, Itachi’s hands left Tomoe’s hair, trailing a path down her spine—one that made all her hairs stand and her skin tingle. It found the accentuated curve of her waist, pulling her closer. Both their body temperature were the highest, but the relief was found in each other’s lips.

Itachi moved away enough to hoarsely whisper, his baritone making Tomoe’s body shiver in places she had no idea it was possible to. “Hold tight.”

Tomoe would never admit she was frustrated that his hands ran past where she expected him to hold. Not even to him. But she couldn’t hold back her surprised gasp when both of them grabbed her beneath it to lift her to his level. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips to regain posture.

“What are you doing?”

“Believe me,” he moved her to the sink, putting her to sit on it with utmost care, “this is nothing compared to the things I want to do with you.”

Who was that man?

If someone ever said those words left the lips of the man she met on that May years ago, she would’ve boasted in disbelief. It was like now that he had a taste, he couldn't get a day away from the feeling. Like he was starving.

They kissed for as long as they could still feel their lips. It didn't go anywhere beyond a few touches in safe places. Itachi had also awakened something in Tomoe—the mortification was gone, and all she had left was the desire to be impossibly closer to him. To bend and do whatever he wanted to do.

But still, Itachi moved with caution, his intentions far from scaring her. His mind was a whirlwind, and he was sure it was the closest he had ever felt to being intoxicated, but he didn't want to dump everything on Tomoe.

Tomoe, on the other hand, eagerly waited for whatever he was ready to give.

On the night of one of the many Konoha festivals, Tomoe felt unwell and decided she would stay home. Itachi said nothing, though he had expectations of taking her to eat and watch the fireworks. Instead, he made her a cup of chamomile tea to ease her coughing and decided he’d call it a night, making sure to get rid of the blankets she wrapped herself in, even though she vehemently protested, and entertained himself with her antics.

Sure, it would be pleasant watching fireworks with her again, but something about the night still felt nice.

“Sorry. I know you wanted to go to the festival…”

Itachi shook his head gently, his dark eyes reflecting understanding and concern. 

“It’s fine. I wouldn't force you to go if you’re feeling unwell. How do you feel right now?” His voice was calm, almost soothing, hoping to ease the tension between them.

Tomoe managed a small smile, her cheeks still slightly flushed. “I think I’m better now, thanks to your tea.” 

There was warmth in her tone, a hint of gratitude that made Itachi’s heart lighten.

Despite her words, Itachi couldn’t ignore the beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. It was a good sign that her body was fighting off whatever had knocked her down, but her temperature remained worryingly high. He reached out instinctively, his hand moving to rest gently on her forehead. The heat radiating from her skin was concerning.

He sighed, brows drawing together in a frown. 

“You need a cold shower.” 

The thought of her discomfort nagged at him, but he knew it was necessary for her recovery.

The very idea felt off, but he couldn’t allow his own hesitation to prevent her from getting better. His expression mirrored the displeasure lingering in the air between them.

“But I’m fine…” she protested, her voice filled with resilience.

“No, you are not.” His tone was firm yet kind. “You have to shower in cold water to–”

“I know what cold water does to fevers,” she interrupted, a scowl etching itself onto her features, her eyes flashing with determination.

Itachi raised an eyebrow, both impressed and amused by her spirit. “Then why are you acting like a child who doesn't understand?” 

Her retort was sharp and immediate. “Why are you even frowning? It seems like you are the one forced to take a cold shower…” 

Itachi couldn’t help but chuckle softly at her cleverness. Her words held a truth that was hard to dispute. He watched her scowl deepen, a mix of annoyance and defiance that sparked a new idea in his mind. It was time for a different approach.

He took a breath and settled deeper into the conversation, trying to find a way to coax her into making the right decision without furthering her stubbornness and letting her believe she’d win this round.

“I can shower with you, if that’s your wish.”

Tomoe probably would never get used to that whip of a tongue Itachi had inside his mouth. Her face was red from the fever, but it became purple from his words. She wondered if he had been like this with anyone before her.

Such a tease.

“Just…” The words were caught up in her throat. Her eyes refused to find his face. It was dangerously beautiful to look at at that moment. “Just prepare the shower for me, if you don't mind.”

As Itachi stepped out of the room, a palpable sense of relief washed over Tomoe. The weight of his presence lifted, allowing her to finally catch her breath. Her cheeks burned crimson, a feverish glow intensified not only by illness but also by the rush of emotions that had been swirling inside her. With a frustrated huff, she flung the blanket—once a source of comfort that Itachi had deliberately ignored her attempt to claim—aside, its soft fabric landing in a crumpled heap beside her body. The air felt too cold against her skin as she tried to gather her thoughts, reflecting on the moment that had just passed.

“He’s gonna be the death of me…” she murmured.

Just as she talked about him, he slid the fusuma door open.

“It’s ready. Come.” The voice had an edge to it, a commanding tone that felt impossible to ignore, even through the haze of her feverish fatigue. She shifted slightly, her limbs heavy as if submerged in molasses, and struggled to find the strength to rise. His brow furrowed with concern as he stepped closer, his eyes scanning her pale face. 

“Need me to carry you?” he offered. Genuine worry laced his voice. The warmth of his presence was comforting, but the idea of being so vulnerable made her hesitate.

She hadn't recovered from the kiss yet. She didn't know what sounds would escape her mouth if he grabbed her.

“No–”

If Itachi possessed the patience to wait, perhaps he would’ve understood that Tomoe was just sluggish, but she could still walk without his help. But no. He had to embrace her and carry her out of the room like she weighed no more than a cotton ball.

Tomoe thought about protesting, but the small smile pushing the corner of his mouth up told her he was enjoying it too. She thought it might be a frenzy of her own mind, but decided not to address it. The shower was running with painfully cold water, and the ofuro was also running; steam began to float around its wooden slats. The scenario was distracting enough, at least for a short time.

“I thought you said I should take a cold shower?” Tomoe rasped as Itachi put her down in front of him, her voice sounding hoarse from the early coughing.

“And you will,” he said, and he took her now long red hair and put it behind her shoulders. “Don’t think you can shake off that so easily.”

Tomoe showed a little smile. “Thought it might work.”

Then, as if they’d known each other for longer than they had been in each other's lives, Itachi raised his hand to her forehead, poking it with both his index and middle fingers. “Maybe next time.”

It felt like that touch electrified her heart. Her ears started getting hot from how loud it beat in her ribcage, and she was mortified he could hear it. Itachi only poked her forehead, yet it felt so special. Something meant only for the ones close to his real persona.

Something she had only seen him pass down to his beloved younger brother, the only person to whom he openly showed he loved deeply.

“I hope…” Tomoe paused, her eyes marveling at Itachi’s face in the yellowish light, “...there’s no next time. I really hate cold showers.”

The corner of Itachi’s mouth twitched. He took a stubborn strand of hair out of her face and put it behind her ear.

“You’ll get sick eventually and need cold showers more times, and I will be there to make sure you take all.” He stared at her eyes. “Now, hurry and undress. The ofuro is for you, after the shower. Your fever won’t evaporate if you wait longer.”

With these words, Itachi quietly slid the door shut behind his back, and Tomoe was left behind to wonder how much boldness she had to muster just to ask him to stay. 

The shower was the worst part of course, but Tomoe kept her eyes on the ofuro to make it tolerable. Contrary to her beliefs, Itachi appeared behind the closed door after a few minutes, which felt like an eternity to her.

“Can I get in?”

The silence that followed afterwards spoke volumes. Itachi sighed. What a dirty mind his wife had.

“The bathroom must be full of steam now. I won't see anything. Can I get in so I can check your temperature?” Says the man who possesses a Sharingan.

Tom gulped back a chuckle. “At least it's not a Byakugan, right?”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, her cheeks flushing despite the cold water. “Come in.”

Itachi slid the fusuma door open and closed before the steam could get out. Tomoe looked down at her soaked feet until she felt Itachi’s presence close and his hand seeking her forehead. She watched through the steam, his face turned to the other side, and though she could not see it, she knew his eyes were straight ahead, not once glancing at her. She inevitably chose to cover herself with her arms, though.

Tomoe took his hand and put it flat against her forehead

After a few seconds, Itachi’s baritone shook her core. “Hm. You’re still too warm.”

Tomoe swallowed a nervous laugh. It was certainly not from the fever.

“I’m fine now, Itachi.”

He lowered his hand. “Not dizzy anymore?”

“Not dizzy anymore.” She shook her head, though she knew he wasn't looking. The bathroom felt incredibly hot. “Let me get to the ofuro, please.”

Itachi nodded. She saw his silhouette. “Take your time.”

Then he left again.

Tomoe tried, but she couldn't stay very long in the ofuro knowing Itachi was outside. His company was like golden sunlight in her days, and after many years spent in the snow, she just loved to soak in it.

So she dressed up in her favorite dark blue yukata, contrasting perfectly with her red hair. Her cheeks were still rosy from the hot bath after the fever, and she pinched them a few times to keep the pink shade longer. Her eyes never left the door, afraid Itachi might come and see her putting in an effort just to stay at home with him.

When she felt the moment was right, Tomoe began her search for Itachi, moving through the rooms of the house with quiet determination. It was only in the very last place she thought to look—the engawa—that she finally found him. There, seated on the wooden walkway, he sat in tranquil solitude, his gaze fixed on the distant festival lanterns that flickered like stars against the darkening sky.

Itachi sensed her presence before she even spoke, an instinct honed by their proximity. He turned his head, studying her familiar silhouette against the backdrop of night. 

“You look temptingly beautiful tonight,” he said, letting the words hang in the air, giving her time to absorb their weight. “But are your clothes not a bit too light for someone who just had a fever?”

A soft smile played at the corner of Tomoe’s lips as she sank onto the engawa beside him, the warmth of his presence enveloping her. 

“It’s a festival night,” she replied, her voice playful, yet with an undercurrent of sincerity. “I wanted to dress temptingly beautiful.”

“You could’ve still done that in a kimono,” he countered gently, his tone teasing yet earnest.

“Come on, Itachi,” she nudged his shoulder with hers, a subtle invitation to let down their guards. Instead of retreating, she leaned into him, seeking comfort in his warmth. “It’s hot outside, and you’ve taken enough care of me already.”

His obsidian eyes studied her features intently, tracing the delicate array of freckles that danced across her cheeks, visible only when one drew near. Her pointy nose, with its gentle rise and fall, tugged at his heartstrings, while her lips, a delicate pink shade, were perfectly molded—a striking contrast to the darkness that once threatened to mold his future.

In a moment of shared intimacy, he closed the distance between them, capturing her gaze with his. Their lips brushed together in a quick kiss; a fleeting connection that lingered in the air, igniting a fire within him, even as a swell of protest from his heart urged him to linger longer.

“It’s never going to be enough,” he murmured against her, a seriousness creeping into his voice. “I promised this to your father.”

Tomoe understood the depth of his words—the weight of duty and longing that tethered them both. Even as the years would eventually etch lines of age on their faces, the memories of this moment and the gravity of their bond would remain untouched by time.

“Hm…” she hummed softly, hoping to mask the rapid drumming of her heart from him. With tenderness, she cupped his face in her hands and gently guided his head to her lap. “You are doing very well, Itachi,” she whispered, her fingers weaving through his hair.

Those words, a balm to his soul, enveloped him in reassurance. 

As he rested his cheek against her covered thighs, the night erupted into a dazzling display of midnight fireworks, illuminating the sky with bursts of vibrant color and sparkling lights, mirroring the whirlwind of emotions swirling between them.

“We're screwed if mom finds out we’re here, Tsu-chan!”

The youngest by ten seconds waved her hand frantically as she yielded once again the ability to channel enough chakra to balance herself on the fence. Just as they found the perfect angle, Itachi leaned in and kissed Tomoe.

On the lips.

“Shh! It’s festival night. We’re not breaking the rules! And you see now? I said they were kissing!”

Takada squinted at her sister. “Tsu-chan, we’re peeking at Itachi and Tomoe-sama. They’re the future clan leaders. What if Fugaku-sama finds out? I think Mikoto-sama would be on our side, but we would still be doomed...”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tsubaki dismissed Takada with a swipe of her hand. “But everybody says we need an heir to the Uchiha, even Fugaku-sama and Mikoto-sama. How do you think babies are made?”

“Tsubaki-chan!”

“What?” Tsubaki shrugged. “They’re made by kissing, obviously. Don't you see how many times mom and dad kiss? Now we’re having a brother.”

Before Takada could reply, a crow landed beside the pair silently. The girls stared at it as it stared back with curious eyes.

Sharingan eyes.

Their childish laughs filled the air as they evaded the fence as fast as they could. Itachi wanted to tell Tomoe about what he saw through his crow's eyes, but his lips only curved in a small smile, his eyes still closed as his head felt lighter than it ever felt resting on his wife's lap.