He leaned in just a little, voice warm at her ear now.
"A husband," he whispered, "is allowed to touch his wife. Especially when she's half-naked in bed."
Finally, she stirred.
"…You're ridiculous," she murmured, barely louder than the breeze outside.
He grinned. "I'm just saying. There's laws about these things."
She shifted slightly, pulling the robe a little closer over her chest without turning to face him.
"I'm injured," she said, calm as ever.
"I carried you."
"Still."
He chuckled. "Fine, fine. No touching the patient."
A pause.
Then softly, "But you did moan earlier."
Kona went completely still.
In the darkness, Tatsu could almost hear her blinking.
"…That was involuntary," she said after a moment, voice stiff.
"Still happened," he teased. "Sounded kinda—"
"Say one more word," she cut in flatly, "and you're sleeping outside."
He smirked, rolling onto his back again. "Okay, okay. I'll behave."
The silence settled once more, broken only by the night insects and the faint rustle of leaves.
Then, just as he was closing his eyes—
"…You can touch my hand."
Tatsu turned to look at her.
She was still facing away, but her fingers, small and bare, reached out slightly toward the space between them.
He reached over, lacing his fingers with hers gently.
— Morning —
Soft sunlight spilled through the window, warming the wooden floor. The air was quiet, still, carrying only the faint rustle of paper butterflies on the sill.
Kona shifted.
Her face was pressed against something warm — steady, rising and falling with breath.
Tatsu.
She blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the light. Her cheek was nestled against his bare chest, his arm resting over her hip. One of her legs had slipped over his at some point in the night.
She didn't move right away. Just listened.
Then, quietly, she eased back, careful not to wake him. Her face lifted from his chest, her hair slipping across his shoulder. The robe she wore had loosened in sleep, the fabric slipping down one arm.
She sat up, adjusting it wordlessly.
"...Tatsu," she said softly.
He stirred, groaned a little, one eye barely cracking open.
"Hm…?"
"Wake up." She stood, tying her robe back in place. "Wipe the medicine. I have to clean the house. Breakfast, too."
Tatsu dragged himself up, rubbing his face. "You really start the day like it's a mission briefing…"
She didn't respond, already walking toward the mirror to brush her hair.
He stood, stretched with a grunt, then grabbed the clean cloth from the side table. Kona stood still as he gently wiped her back — where the salve had dried overnight.
"You're good," he said after a moment, folding the cloth away.
Without a word, she moved toward the drawer.
But before she could open it, Tatsu stepped around her, pulling it open himself.
He rummaged for a second, then pulled out her black bra and one of her plain grey tops.
"Here," he said, holding them out. "Today's uniform."
She stared at him for a moment. "You're picking my clothes now?"
He gave a shrug. "You've only got two, not like I'm spoiling you."
She snatched them from his hand.
As she walked away, he added under his breath, grinning,
"Pick the black one every time. Never disappoints."
She stopped in the doorway.
Then looked back, expression unreadable.
"…Go sweep the floor."
"Yes, ma'am."
– Market – Midday –
The market was busy.
Vendors called out over their stalls, waving bundles of fresh greens and skewers of sizzling meat. Children darted between baskets of vegetables. The sun was warm, hanging just overhead.
Tatsu walked beside Kona, holding a small woven bag of rice. Her face was partly hidden behind a loose scarf wrapped around her head, leaving only her eyes visible.
She kept close to him, gaze scanning calmly across the market.
"I'll get the greens," she said softly.
"I'll check the eggs," Tatsu replied.
They split for a moment, weaving through the crowd.
Tatsu moved toward a corner stall, inspecting the small crates of eggs stacked beneath an umbrella of patched cloth. He picked up a carton, giving it a quick look.
Then —
Thud.
He bumped into someone turning the corner.
"Ah—sorry—" he started, stepping back instinctively.
The man he collided with stumbled slightly, hand grabbing his forehead.
Tatsu blinked.
Blue scarf. Dark vest. Shinobi jacket. He recognized the face, even through the years.
Konohamaru.
The young Sarutobi raised his head, blinking rapidly. His expression shifted — confusion tightening around his eyes.
"...What the hell…" Konohamaru muttered, lifting his hands slowly. "My chakra…"
He flexed his fingers. Nothing. No response.
Tatsu watched, unsure what was happening.
"I—" Konohamaru's eyes narrowed. He tried again, forming a seal. Nothing happened. Not even a flicker of chakra.
He staggered back a step, eyes darting sharply to Tatsu.
"What did you just do?"
Tatsu froze. "I didn't do anything. I just—bumped into you."
Before Konohamaru could respond, a second voice chimed in.
"Hey, sensei, what's up? You good?"
Boruto.
Bright blond, confident eyes. Maybe twelve or thirteen at most. He stepped forward with a skewered dango in one hand and a half-finished drink in the other.
Konohamaru didn't answer immediately. He was still staring at Tatsu — confused, unsettled.
"…Something's wrong," he muttered.
Boruto raised an eyebrow. "You look pale. You okay?"
"I can't access my chakra," Konohamaru said quietly. "It just—cut off all of a sudden."
Tatsu took a step back.
"…I swear I didn't do anything."
His voice was calm. He didn't feel any different. No pulse of energy, no aura. But Konohamaru's reaction wasn't normal.
Boruto blinked between them, then frowned. "Uh… I don't sense anything weird."
Konohamaru's jaw clenched slightly. "I do."
At that moment, Kona appeared at Tatsu's side, holding a bundle of greens.