"A unit would never stop moving just because of a single child."
"The squad's commander was Tera, not your father. Even as clan head, he had no right to override battlefield command."
"Don't shoulder all the blame for the team's losses, Itachi."
---
After a simple meal, Itachi stepped into the bath that his mother had prepared earlier.
Steam rose from the surface of the water, filling the small room with warmth.
Fuu—
Even someone as composed as him couldn't suppress the sigh that escaped as his weary body sank into the heat.
He could feel the exhaustion peeling away layer by layer, muscles loosening, the dull ache of battle slowly fading.
His senses, dulled from days of marching, sharpened once again as if his very nerves, bones, and cells were singing in relief beneath the water's embrace.
Even the tension buried deep in his mind—his vigilance, his guilt—seemed to dissolve in the rippling warmth.
"You truly are a gentle child, Itachi."
His mother's words still echoed faintly in his mind.
As he lay in the bath, staring blankly at the ceiling, he replayed them over and over.
A unit would never halt for one child.
Perhaps she was right. Maybe he had misunderstood.
He had assumed that because his father was the Uchiha clan head, everyone would defer to his authority—even the commander—and that his request for rest had delayed their march, leading to the ambush.
But if that wasn't true…
Then he needed to hear it from his father directly.
A sense of urgency welled up in him.
It wasn't that he doubted his mother, but she hadn't been there on the battlefield.
Her explanation was only speculation.
Itachi preferred truth—not through words, but through confirmation.
He wanted to know—to confront the facts himself.
If only he'd asked back then instead of avoiding the question.
If he'd just had the courage to speak to his father in that moment… maybe he wouldn't have spent so long lost in guilt.
—
Knock, knock, knock.
A gentle tapping came from the door.
"Itachi," his mother's voice called softly from outside. "I've left clean clothes by the door."
"Yes, Mother."
He answered politely, his tone calm as ever.
"You have a wonderful family, Itachi."
The sudden voice that broke the silence didn't belong to Mikoto—it was Artoria's.
"A father who's strict and dutiful, and a mother who's gentle and kind."
Her tone was light, almost wistful.
"At first, I thought it was tragic that you lost a normal childhood… but now I see—it's not such an unhappy life after all."
Happiness?
Itachi exhaled softly and turned his head toward her fading form, appearing beside the bath as the steam swirled around her.
Now wasn't the time to talk about happiness.
After a pause, he shut his eyes and murmured:
"Perhaps what we should be discussing… is whether you might give me some privacy right now, don't you think?"
Artoria stood as she always did—upright, armored, composed, a figure out of place in the foggy bathhouse.
"I'm afraid I can't stray too far from you," she replied matter-of-factly.
Itachi didn't hesitate to counter her.
"But your range isn't that limited."
"I've noticed it every time you disappear. I can still sense where you are."
His tone was calm, analytical. "Once, you even went as far as the bridge near the village entrance. So as long as I'm home, you have the entire house to move within."
Artoria was silent for a while before nodding.
"…You're right. Then I'll wait for you in the living room."
"Wait."
She stopped mid-step, turning back toward him.
Itachi sat up slightly, water rippling around him.
Meeting her gaze, he asked quietly,
"You heard what my mother said just now."
"You once told me that when I was unconscious, you tried leaving me for a while."
"So… regarding the squad resting for half a day—how much do you actually know about that?"
His dark eyes searched her face carefully.
Somehow, he had the feeling she might know more than he did.
Artoria's expression softened, becoming solemn.
"What your mother said was true," she admitted. "The rest wasn't because of you. It was because several shinobi were gravely injured after the battle. The medical team needed time to treat them."
"The reason you weren't aware," she continued, "is because that was the first time your unit had ever faced a battle of such intensity."
"The Uchiha are powerful. Normally, ordinary enemies wouldn't have been able to slow your squad, let alone cause casualties."
Itachi's expression didn't change, but his gaze sharpened.
"So you knew this all along? Then why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Artoria met his stare evenly.
"Because I was never meant to be part of your life's path, Itachi."
"Even without me, this would have happened. You would still have faced this moment—the guilt, the struggle, the pain of loss."
"I don't know why I was brought into this world or why our consciousnesses are intertwined, but one thing is clear: this experience belongs to you."
"Only by living through it yourself can you truly understand."
Only by living through it… can I understand?
A faint shadow passed through Itachi's eyes.
He leaned back into the bath, the ripples calming again, and said nothing more.
Artoria didn't speak either. She turned silently and left the bathroom.
The house grew quiet once again.
Steam curled gently in the dim light.
Itachi's eyes were fixed on the ceiling.
For the first time in days, his heart felt a little lighter.
The guilt that had weighed on him like a mountain—the feeling that every death, every sacrifice, was his fault—eased, if only slightly.
He remembered the accusing stares of his clansmen, their silent reproach.
Even when he closed his eyes, he could still see their bodies lying in pools of blood.
That image had never left him.
But if what Artoria said was true—if she truly hadn't interfered with his growth—then all of this, every moment of it, was his own to bear.
Splash—
Rising from the bath, he took a towel and began to dry himself.
Then, suddenly, Artoria's earlier words echoed in his mind again:
"Your mother seems eager to speak with you."
His hand froze briefly in mid-motion.
Only for a moment.
He finished drying off, dressed, and stepped out into the hallway.
The faint sound of footsteps reached his ears.
Someone else was home.
Itachi's eyes narrowed slightly.
It seemed… his father had returned.
Without hesitation, he quickened his pace toward the living room.