The ramen still lingered on my tongue when I woke up. Or maybe it was just the warmth.
Funny, isn't it? Of all the things to remember from yesterday — Itachi's quiet nod, Sasuke nearly knocking over his entire bowl mid-rant — the clearest thing was the look on Naruto's face when I smiled at him.
Like no one had done it before.
He looked… empty. Not sad, exactly. Just like he didn't expect to be seen.
I couldn't stop thinking about it.
He hadn't spoken again after I said the thing about his chopsticks. He barely blinked. But he smiled, kind of. Maybe. A little.
Or maybe I imagined that part because I wanted it to be true.
I lay there a while longer, eyes on the ceiling. The morning light hadn't quite turned gold yet — just pale and soft, brushing against the paper walls like a ghost too polite to knock.
Something felt... strange.
Not wrong. Not loud.
Just off.
The air in the compound was still, but not in a peaceful way. More like everyone was holding their breath at the same time and pretending it was normal. The kind of quiet that wasn't restful — just tense.
I listened.
No footsteps in the hallway. No distant clang of training steel. No voice from the kitchen yet. Even the birds outside seemed hesitant.
I shifted the blanket off my legs, sat up slowly.
Whatever it was, it hadn't happened yet.
But it was close.
I felt it in my skin.
The scent of soap and rice steamed in from the kitchen, and Mikoto's hands were warm against my scalp as she gathered my hair.
The comb moved slowly, rhythmically — the kind of gentle care that didn't rush, didn't scold. Just… existed.
She hummed while she worked. Something soft and old. The kind of melody you only hear in memory or when you pretend to sleep on your mother's lap.
I didn't recognize it.
"You always hum that one," I said, voice low.
Mikoto smiled faintly. "Do I?"
"Yeah. It's the only tune you ever go off-key in."
That earned a quiet chuckle. "My mother used to sing it," she said. "When we were still in the northern compound. Before…"
She trailed off.
Before we learned to whisper.
Before silence became safer than singing.
She didn't say it — but I heard it anyway.
The braid pulled gently down my back. She tied it with a careful hand.
"Did you trust her?" I asked.
She blinked, then looked at me in the mirror.
"I trusted her with everything," she said simply. "Even when I didn't understand her."
I looked down at my lap.
"Do you trust the village?"
Her hands paused.
She resumed a moment later. Slower.
"I trust people," she said. "But not all at once."
Before I could ask what that meant—
"I'M NOT LATE!"
Sasuke came barreling into the room like the world had been waiting for his entrance. His sandals skidded, his hair stuck up in three different directions, and he was chewing something he clearly hadn't finished.
"You're early," I said flatly.
"I knew it!"
"Also, your shirt's inside out."
He looked down, shrieked, and ran back out.
Mikoto just laughed — quiet and full.
And the braid finished, steady as always.
"Come in," Mikoto called gently.
The door slid open with a wooden sigh. Shisui stepped inside like he lived there, which, knowing him, wouldn't surprise anyone. He always carried that loose grin — like he was in on a joke that no one else had heard yet.
"Morning, Mikoto-san," he greeted with a small bow. "Akari. Sasuke."
"Morning!" Sasuke beamed, practically vibrating. His shirt was finally on the right way.
I nodded. "You're late."
"I let the sun warm up the field first," Shisui said, straight-faced. "Didn't want it to be unfair."
Mikoto chuckled under her breath.
He turned his attention to her. "Would it be alright if I stole these two for a bit? I have a few drills I want to run before Itachi hogs them all."
"Only if you promise not to bring them back bruised."
"No bruises. Only minor damage."
"Mostly him," I added, jerking a thumb at Sasuke.
"I'M LITERALLY RIGHT HERE," Sasuke barked.
Mikoto waved us off with a soft smile and a warning look. "Stay where Shisui can see you. And remember to hydrate."
"Always," Shisui replied, already herding us toward the door like a mother hen with too much chakra.
Public Training Field – Akari POV
The public field felt wide in a way the compound never did — noisy, open, with civilians and shinobi weaving past each other, sweat and laughter mixing in the air.
It smelled like dust, fresh leaves, and the faint tang of steel.
Shisui walked a few steps ahead of us, his hands laced behind his head, his posture relaxed. "Don't make me chase either of you," he said over his shoulder.
"I could beat you in a footrace," Sasuke declared.
"You couldn't beat me to a rice ball," I muttered.
"I HAVE STAMINA."
"You have delusions."
Shisui raised one finger without turning. "Both of you, breathe. Let your mouths rest. Let your legs suffer."
We stopped at a training circle edged in worn stone.
Sasuke immediately dropped into a warm-up stance like he was being watched.
Which, of course, he was.
Across the field stood another group — tall shinobi in pale clothes, standing in tight formation like a portrait of formality. Hyūga clan.
They didn't speak much, but their silence said a lot.
While most of them stood watching a boy — graceful, arrogant, clearly trying to impress the elders — one girl stood quietly at the edge.
Small.
Still.
Hinata.
Her posture was correct, but hesitant. Her shoulders curled inward just slightly, her gaze cast down toward her own sandals. She clutched a kunai too big for her hand. She wasn't training.
She was waiting to be told she could.
I watched her from across the yard. Shisui started guiding Sasuke through stance corrections, and for a moment, I slipped away.
No one stopped me.
I walked over — not too fast, not too close.
Hinata didn't notice me at first. She was still staring at the ground, as if trying to convince it to swallow her whole.
I didn't say hello.
I didn't bow.
I just knelt beside her slowly, took my spare training kunai from my pouch, and laid it gently on the ground beside hers.
Her head jerked up, startled. Eyes wide. Pale lavender and rimmed with uncertainty.
I said nothing.
Just tilted my head a little — like you can if you want to.
Her hand hovered.
Then, slowly, she reached for the kunai. Her fingers brushed mine.
And then—just the smallest, tiniest curl of her mouth.
A smile.
Soft. Scared. Real.
Behind me, I felt Shisui's chakra shift slightly — quiet as ever, but I knew he was watching.
He didn't call out.
Didn't interrupt.
But he saw.
And maybe that was enough.
Later that night...
I was sitting on the porch steps, the kind that creaked if you leaned too far to one side. The cicadas hummed. The compound was unusually still.
Then I felt it.
Bright chakra, dimmed at the edges. Like it had been… pulled inward. Pressed too tightly.
Shisui.
I didn't look up when he sat down beside me. I didn't need to. He didn't need to speak to announce himself.
"Thought you'd be training with Itachi-niisan," I said.
"Thought you'd be asleep."
"Tried." I hugged my knees. "Too much noise in my head."
"Ah," he said softly, "you've caught that bad habit early."
We sat there for a long moment. Just listening. Just being.
Then: "You ever think about disappearing?"
His voice wasn't heavy. Just… quiet.
I turned my head. His eyes were on the sky, not blinking. Like he didn't trust what would happen if he looked away.
"Like… running away?" I asked.
"No. I mean really disappearing. Not running. Just… stepping out of the story."
That was when I knew.
Not in words. Not in facts. Just something in my chest twisted a little, like I'd been warned.
"You're not gonna do something stupid, are you?" I asked lightly, like I was joking.
Shisui smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.
"I'm the responsible one. I don't do stupid."
"Mm," I muttered. "You've jumped off the Hokage Monument twice."
"Three times," he corrected. "But that was for training."
I didn't laugh.
I watched his face instead.
He looked tired. Not like he hadn't slept — but like something inside him had.
"You don't have to fix everything," I whispered.
He turned to me then. Just for a second.
"But someone has to try."
The wind stirred.
He reached over and ruffled my hair, like he always did. "You're going to be dangerous one day, you know that?"
I shrugged. "Not as dangerous as you."
"No one ever is," he said. And smiled like it was the saddest joke in the world.
Then he stood.
"Go easy on Sasuke tomorrow."
"I always do."
He paused at the edge of the path.
And without looking back, he said, "Don't forget me too fast, okay?"
I didn't answer.
Not until long after he was gone.
Not until the sky faded to grey.
----
It started the day he put the mask on.
No words. No change in expression. Just a shift — subtle, but deep. Like someone had drawn a curtain behind his eyes.
Itachi joined the ANBU and everything got quieter.
He was still around. Still polite. Still gentle.
But not present.
He moved like a shadow wearing his skin.
Like someone already gone.
I caught him alone one night. He was sitting on the engawa, shoulders straight, eyes watching the stars like they might fall if he blinked.
I sat beside him without asking.
"You ever think it's strange," I said, "how quiet the compound is?"
He didn't look at me.
"I think it's peaceful," he said.
"…I think it's waiting."
Still, he didn't look.
I wanted to say it. I know what's coming. I wanted to scream it at him. Don't do it. Find another way. Run if you have to.
But I didn't.
Because the moment I opened my mouth, I knew:
> If I say it, he'll know I'm not just his sister.
> If I say it, I break everything.
So I stayed quiet.
I looked up at the stars with him and didn't tell him they were about to go out.
---
Some nights later, Mikoto stopped me in the hallway. The lights were off. Her voice was soft.
"Stay inside tonight," she said. "You and Sasuke. Just stay in."
I opened my mouth — not to argue, but to ask.
She pulled me into a hug before I could speak.
Her hand rested on the back of my head. Like she was memorizing the shape of me.
"I love you," she whispered.
It was the first time I'd heard her say it aloud in this life.
And the last.
---
We didn't hear the blades. We didn't hear screaming.
Just silence.
A silence so heavy, I thought it would crush us.
Then came the smell.
Blood and steel and ash.
I gripped Sasuke's hand as we crouched by the door, knees to chest. He was shaking. I was frozen.
We weren't supposed to open it.
But we did.
Because the silence wasn't bearable anymore.
And there he was.
Itachi.
Sword in hand.
Eyes lit with Sharingan that didn't belong to the brother we knew.
His mouth opened.
He said something to Sasuke. I didn't hear it.
All I heard was the world tearing.
I stepped in front of Sasuke before I even realized I'd moved.
He didn't strike us.
He just looked at me.
Long. Still.
And I looked back, trying to hold all the words I'd never said.
I knew.
I'm sorry.
You're not a monster.
He didn't answer.
But his eyes softened.
Just a little.
Then he turned, and he was gone
They called it treason. They called it mercy.
I didn't care.
Because my clan was dead.
And so was the part of me that thought knowing the future would let me save them.