White Rain

Chapter 10

By Zapenstap

Lucia opened her eyes to whiteness. It took her a few moments to recognize a pillow beneath her face. With vision having returned, she half-expected to be assaulted next by the sharp scent of pain and blood. But there were no smells except for clean linen, the scent of lavender soap on her skin, the ash in the fire place across the room, and Itachi Uchiha, whose hand she felt on her bare back.

How many hours had passed? The fire had been roaring when they began. It was dying or dead now, a licking flame or two emitting red light that was barely enough to see by. The night was deep. There were no sounds outside the windows.

She stirred, expecting muscles to ache and broken bones to fail, but her body obeyed the commands she gave it. She turned her head on the pillow. The hand on her back shifted when she moved, stroking downwards from her shoulder blades to the small of her back. The touch was gentle, soothing, and patient. Completely different.

She wanted to ask if it was done, but she knew the answer. The mood had changed. She remembered very little except that she had endured after he denied her plea to stop. He must have reached his limit too.

The effects were already fading.

She rolled over, naked on the mattress. The sheets were in a crumple at her feet. She didn’t remember at what point her clothes had been stripped from her, or when she had been brought to the bed, but she didn’t feel vulnerable in her skin. At nineteen, she had lived too much already to worry about something like that. Besides, the eyes on her were silently appreciative.

“What time is it?” she asked in a voice hoarse from what was like a drug-induced sleep.

“Almost three.”

She sat up, one hand going to her head. Her hair was mussed, a wrecked tangle of curls her fingers couldn’t separate. But her skin was unmarred, pale, smooth and unblemished, despite the memory of welts, lashes, and bruises.

Itachi Uchiha sat at the edge of the bed, both feet on the floor, twisted at the waist to face her. He was still dressed, though the cloak with the red clouds was thrown over a chair in the corner of the room. He always removed it afterward, like casting off a personality. His face was expressionless, dark hair tied at the nape of his neck, eyes watching her with the Sharingan that was almost always activated.

The sense of him was different. From the way she felt before compared to now, he might as well have been a different person.

She brought her legs around and turned toward him so that they were sitting side by side. His eyes traveled absently over her body when she moved, from her calves to her stomach, to her breasts, to her neck, to her face. Even without expression, she knew what he was thinking. It was in his eyes. It was in his throat when he swallowed. He reacted when she brought her knees up under her, leaned toward him on the mattress, and touched his face where his jaw met his neck.

She noted the minute changes in his expression that processed her touch. He wouldn’t encourage her, so she didn’t waste time waiting. She unbuttoned the wide collar of his shirt. Her fingers grazed his neck, brushed across his clavicle, and slid under his shirt to reach his bare shoulders. She caught his gaze, saw his breathing hitch, and reached further down his back. He closed his eyes. Wrapping her other hand around the back of his neck, she pulled herself close to him. The muscles in his arms tightened. His breathing became a little heavier as her proximity caused her breasts to press against his arm. Leaning forward, she touched her lips lightly against his neck.

His speed and strength surprised her. In one motion, he lifted her and swung her onto his lap so that her knees were straddling his hips. He kept his eyes on her face as he pulled her up against him. She gasped, heart racing, as she felt his body against hers. She tugged at the bottom of his shirt, lifting it over his head, revealing skin that was lightly tanned and softly golden in the dim light shed by the embers in the dying fire. She ran her hands over it. His muscles were hard beneath her fingers. God, he was beautifully made. She leaned in to kiss him.

He didn’t let her. He flipped her on her back, her legs still around his hips, and pushed her into the pillows. There were a few intoxicating moments where his body pressed against hers before he removed the rest of his clothes. When he was fully undressed, his mouth found her neck and then her chin, and finally her mouth, tentative at first, then increasingly urgent and insistent. His breath was warm. His skin was smooth. The connection was hot, and slick, and dizzying.

She wanted to please him. She was half crazed with the need for gentleness after so much anguish and helplessness. She whispered her desires into his ear, half pliant, half aggressive, and then questioned over and over between kisses, ‘What do you want? What do you want? What do you want?’

*****

“Lucia.”

Someone was shaking her awake.

Lucia opened her eyes and looked up into the visage of one of her Shinobi escorts. His eyes were hidden by tinted glasses and a collar had been drawn up around the lower half of his face.

She lifted her head off of the hard pillow. Her mouth was dry. They had spent the night in a hostel between Konoha village and their destination. Her muscles were sore.

“Did I say something in my sleep?” she asked.

“No. The sun is up. We’ll reach town today.”

The sun was up already? She sat up wearily. She couldn’t remember what she had been dreaming, only that she hadn’t wanted to wake.

*****

Hinata’s eyes never left Lucia Van Alstyne.

She had been a closed person throughout the entire trip, though unfailingly polite. She deferred to the Jounin on all matters involving travel, safety precautions, and accommodations. She said very little that was not a comment directly related to the circumstances of the moment. She seemed entirely at ease under their protection.

At least, that’s how it was until they arrived in the city. The change was subtle, but there was a definite change. As soon as they passed through the gates, Lucia became more alert. She did not seem frightened, though. What Hinata noticed was an intense glittering in her eyes, and aloofness in the way she watched everything around her, especially the people, as if seeing them from a great distance. She seemed to be thinking constantly and quickly.

When they arrived at the bank, Lucia was asked to wait outside with Kiba and Akamaru while Shino and Hinata checked the interior of the lobby for any possible danger. With her Byakugan activated, Hinata swept every person and object in the room, finding nothing of consequence. At Shino’s direction, Kiba escorted Lucia inside, leaving Akamaru outside to scout the streets.

The bank was a spacious and beautiful building with marble floors, wide walkways, tall dark-wood desks, and vaulted ceilings. Men and women crossed constantly through the lobby.

“Wait here,” Lucia told them. They nodded and allowed her to proceed.

Kiba moved to stand on Hinata’s left. Shino stood beside Kiba. Between the three of them, every observatory sense was on alert.

“I’ve put a bug on her,” Shino murmured into the collar of his jacket. “Just in case.”

Lucia walked up to the first available teller, calmly gave her name, and asked to make a withdrawal.

Other customers were trying to avoid staring at the three Shinobi standing shoulder to shoulder along the back wall, but everyone looked. Hinata supposed ninja must come in periodically as guards, enough to avoid comment, but perhaps not often enough to be unworthy of circumspect stares. It was clear they were making the patrons nervous with their presence. The staff didn’t know whether to smile or frown at them.

Lucia seemed oblivious to all of the questioning looks.

“She doesn’t smell nervous,” Kiba said. “Calm as a cucumber.”

“I think the expression is ‘cool as a cucumber,’” Shino informed him.

Kiba’s face reddened.

Hinata held back a smile.

The teller behind the counter spent a few moments searching through some files, stopped when she found the one she was looking for, and immediately sought a manager for assistance.

A man in a suit replaced the teller at the counter. He was an established man in his fifties or sixties with a wide jaw and graying hair. Hinata could tell that he recognized Lucia on sight by his facial expressions. He seemed surprised to see her, but less surprised than Hinata might have guessed. He smiled. Hinata read his lips.

“Miss Van Alstyne,” he murmured. “I wondered when I would see you.”

“Were you aware I was in town?” she asked.

The manager cleared his throat. “Pardon. Your husband was here last week. I thought you were here together. He brought Shinobi with him too. A different village, though, now that I think about it.”

Kiba muttered something under his breath about it being a good thing to send escorts. Hinata agreed but didn’t say anything. She hoped none of this would lead to unnecessary fighting.

“I see,” Lucia replied. She still did not look frightened. She didn’t even seem surprised. “Are my accounts in order? He was not allowed to access them, I trust.”

“Everything is as you left it,” the manager assured her.

“Did Gehard ask about me?” Lucia queried.

“He wanted to know if you had been in. I told him I haven’t seen your face in eleven years, but that I was pleased to hear you had returned and looked forward to seeing you. It is rumored he has left the country actually, but the Shinobi that were with him have been seen lingering in the city.”

Lucia nodded as if that was exactly what she expected to hear.

“Would you like to sit?” the bank manager asked her. He gestured to one of the private offices behind closed doors. Beside Hinata, Kiba tensed slightly.

“Yes,” Lucia replied, “but in the open, where my guard can observe me.”

The bank manager’s eyes flickered to Hinata, Kiba, and Shino. “Of course,” he said, and led Lucia to a pair of comfortable chairs laid out on either side of a desk by a window in the lobby.

“Is she trying to make this easy on us, or does she think she will need us for her protection?” Kiba muttered.

Hinata didn’t answer. She didn’t know.

“Ex…Excuse me. Um, would any of you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Ice water?”

Hinata blinked. The three of them turned their heads to look at one of the bank’s employees, a woman with short red hair who approached them from the other side of the room and was smiling at them nervously.

“You may sit while you wait if you like,” she said, gesturing to a pair of couches pushed up under a window around twenty feet from where Lucia was just now sitting across from the bank manager. They should easily be able to see and hear Lucia from the location, without looking like hawks. Perhaps the staff wanted them to sit in order to make them less conspicuous.

Kiba and Hinata exchanged glances. Kiba shrugged.

“I would not mind reclining,” Shino answered.

They followed the staff member to the couches and were offered glasses of ice cold water.

“Pretty friendly here,” Kiba muttered when the woman had left.

Hinata kept her eyes on Lucia, even as she sipped her water.

“I am here to make a withdrawal,” Lucia informed the bank manager as settled herself across from him.

The bank manager did not obviously react to this announcement, but Hinata noted a slight tick in his face. He watched impassively as Lucia bent over a slip of paper and scribbled on the surface.

“She makes him nervous,” Hinata informed the others. “He tensed a little.”

Kiba and Shino didn’t say anything.

“In this amount,” Lucia murmured, sliding the paper across the table, “if you would be so kind.”

The bank manager turned the piece of paper over. Hinata had watched the pen strokes closely from a distance. It was a number, and the figure was substantial. Lucia would be able to live comfortably on such a sum in Konoha for several months. She repeated the figure quietly to Kiba.

“I thought she told Naruto it was a small account?” Kiba muttered.

“Been there ten years,” Shino informed him, “quietly compounding interest.”

Kiba frowned. “Did she know she was going to leave her husband ten years ago?”

Hinata didn’t know, but she wondered too.

The bank manager waved one of the other staff members to his and Lucia’s side and made a request in a whisper that Hinata could not see as the employee’s head was blocking her view. The man the manager summoned seemed to understand. As he left to fulfill the request, Lucia and the manager engaged in small talk about the weather and health of each other’s families. After a few minutes, the employee returned with a locked suitcase and a key that key dangled from a bracelet. He presented both to the manager and departed.

“Your Shinobi guards will see you safely to your next destination, I assume?” the bank manager asked Lucia as he handed her the key. “If not, we will call someone to escort you. You shouldn’t travel alone.”

“I am well protected, thank you,” Lucia told him. She put the bracelet on her wrist and covered it with her sleeve.

“Will there be anything else, Miss Van Alstyne?” the bank manager asked her.

“Not today,” she replied.

“A pleasure doing business with you.”

Hinata set down her glass and rose along with Kiba and Shino to join Lucia as she took the suitcase from the table. Lucia surrendered the locked suitcase to Shino without a fuss, who tucked it under one arm without comment. Hinata did not find it remarkable, as clients typically allowed Shinobi to carry valuables provided they were well-paid and could be trusted. As a group, the three of them escorted Lucia out of the bank and into the busy city streets.

Akamaru was waiting for them outside. The enormous white dog rose to his feet and barked once at Kiba when they emerged.

“Anything suspicious?” Shino asked Kiba.

“Nope,” Kiba said, scratching the dog’s head. “Akamaru didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. So far so good.”

“Wonderful,” Lucia murmured. There was vibrancy in her voice. She seemed in a good mood. The sharpness Hinata had noted in her earlier seemed to be gone. “Let’s go to lunch. My treat.”

Shino and Kiba exchanged startled glances.

“That’s very kind of you,” Hinata said. “It is not customary.”

“I think it wise to treat well the people you trust with your life,” Lucia told them. “And now I can afford it. It is no trouble.”

Lucia’s choice was a high-end restaurant at the edge of town. She rented a private room with silk curtains and a scenic view of the entire city. They were served four courses. Hinata was tentatively digging into some kind of foreign, crusted custard dessert that smelled deliciously sweet when Kiba spoke.

“This might be the best mission ever,” Kiba announced. “I don’t usually enjoy city missions, but I don’t usually eat this good either. And so far, no fighting,”

“I’m glad,” Lucia replied.

Shino alone did not eat much, as he had particular dietary requirements, but he was eyeing the custard with his arms crossed as if deciding it might be worth a slip. “Would it have been wise to request that the bank manager not mention that you came here?” he asked Lucia.

“I didn’t want to involve him,” Lucia replied, sipping expensive sake from a porcelain cup. “If anyone else should ask about me, it is better that he just tell the truth.”

“Do you think anyone will come asking?” Kiba asked.

“Yes, I do,” Lucia replied. “Probably have been asking every day. Gehard will learn that I came to town with Shinobi escorts from the Leaf Village. It is only a matter of time before he knows I am staying in Konoha.”

“But the bank manager said he has left the country,” Hinata said.

“If that’s actually true, he will return,” Lucia replied. “The news that I am staying in Konoha itself will hopefully dissuade him from any thought of having me attacked, but he won’t give up so easily.”

“No Shinobi escort group would attack Konoha,” Shino said. “It is ludicrous to suggest it.”

“Shino’s right,” Kiba agreed. “Besides which, you’re under the personal protection of the Hokage. There are few Shinobi out there who would make an attempt on your life if they know that.”

Lucia set down her cup. “You have a lot of respect for your Hokage. All three of you. He is near you age, very young to be such a revered leader.”

“He’s earned it,” Kiba said.

“I’d heard about him before I came here,” Lucia confessed. “Naruto Uzumaki, Konoha’s youngest Hokage. I have heard that he has had a very tangible impact on how Shinobi operate. He has made alliances between Shinobi villages stronger than any of his predecessors, and contributed greatly to the stability between countries in this region. To do so much so young is no easy task.”

“But you don’t trust him,” Kiba said.

“I don’t know him. But I do think he is interesting. He has been kind to me so far.”

“Naruto is very strong,” Hinata told her, “and intuitive. When he puts his mind to it, he is very good at understanding people. He is an insightful person. I’m sure you can trust his kindness. ”

“You’re his lover, are you not?” Lucia asked.

Hinata felt heat rise in her face. She could feel it radiating from her cheeks and forehead, prickling the skin. That she would say something so frankly--!

Kiba laughed loudly. Shino remained silent, still studying his dessert.

“Forgive me,” Lucia said to her. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I can see you are a private person. It was merely an observation. When you are in the same room together, his affection for you becomes apparent.”

Hinata looked down at her hands, still blushing. She allowed herself to think of her relationship with Naruto without embarrassment. Yes, they were lovers, very tender lovers, still discovering something new each day, and very lucky, she felt. “Yes,” she said. “But my opinion is not swayed by that. I admired Naruto greatly before he noticed me, and for many years before he was Hokage. I have always thought that he was kind. He is someone to trust.”

Lucia didn’t say anything for several moments. At length she replied: “That must be a wonderful feeling.”

*****

Itachi had to drag himself home. It was his fourth day of ‘missions’ as a Genin.

Free labor was more like it. In four days he had weeded two gardens, painted one fence, cleaned two walkways, and babysat several pet animals. It was not at all what he imagined he’d be doing as a ninja. Of course, there were lots of good things about it. For one thing, he was building muscle and endurance from the endless lifting, running, painting, and cleaning. He was also getting to know some of the ordinary people in the village.

More importantly, he was bonding with his teammates. Because of that, the past few days were his happiest since he arrived in the village. He had friends again. They felt like friends now that he and Amaya and Haro were working together and training together. Haro even started helping Itachi with his taijutsu. He ended up face down on the ground half the time, but he was seeing improvement in his skills.

And today, Sakura started them on genjutsu. She didn’t explain why she started with that, but Itachi expected it was because of him, because he had asked to learn something he might be good at. All they had done so far was learn how to recognize whether or not they or a teammate was trapped in an illusion and practice getting one another out of it. Itachi’s was sore from how many times he had been smacked in the head. Coming out of a genjutsu was a lot like waking up from a dream with a headache.

By the time Itachi reached home, he was thinking how much he’d like to get some real sleep.

Rina was sitting out on the porch step. As he got closer, he could see leaves and stems and discarded flowers strewn about her feet and scattered across the porch. A small bouquet of yellow, pink, and white flowers with rich green leaves lay bundled in her lap. Rina was picking pieces out of the bouquet and rearranging the flowers into some kind of order, the significance of which escaped him.

“Hi,” she greeted him. “Catch a cat today?”

He gave her a rueful smile. She had been less than impressed with his missions so far.

“Cleared some bird nests out of a chimney this morning,” he told her. “Practiced genjutsu this afternoon.” He leaned over the rail beside her so as not to step on her work. “What are you doing? Did you pick those after school? Are they for someone?”

“Part of school,” she said. “They separated the boys and girls today. Ino came to our class and taught us about flowers.”

Flowers? This was what he had missed in Academy? He tried not to make a face. “Why?”

Perhaps sensing his derision, she made him wait until she had finished arranging the bouquet, tied it with ribbon, and presented the finished product. “What do you think?” she asked.

“It’s pretty. Why did you learn about flowers?”

“Flowers have a language,” Rina told him. “You can send messages in them.”

“Like how red roses are supposed to be for love?”

“It gets more complicated.”

“What does your bouquet say?”

“Well, this one is simple. It says ‘be happy’,” She smiled at him. “These flowers are for cheer,” she explained, pointing at the star-shaped yellow ones. “These are for peace.” She pointed to some white ones clustered like tiny bells around a dark green stem. “And these are for beauty.” The pink ones were large with soft, round petals. “Ino says a clean message is best. She told me that this bouquet will help someone remember beautiful things. It is to make someone who is sad feel better.”

“And who did you make it for?”

“Mom,” she replied, lowering her eyes and setting the bouquet on her knees. “For when she gets back.”

He nodded. There was no need to say anything about that. They both understood.

Itachi reflected that Rina’s lesson was convenient, as Ino and Choji were checking up on them every day until their mother returned from her trip. Ino owned a flower shop, and Rina was supposed to go there after school if Itachi wasn’t home yet, so the materials were accessible.

Their mother was supposed to return today, but there had been no sign of her yet. There was still a good amount of light to see by so it could still happen. Waiting made him nervous, but he told himself he wasn’t going to worry.

“Let’s eat dinner,” he suggested, pushing away from the railing. “You put those in some water and I’ll help you clean up.”

After cleaning the porch, he made Rina and himself dinner with what they hand, which was plenty since Choji had made sure their pantry was stocked with more than both of them together could eat in a month.

After dinner, while he was clearing the table, Rina brought her music portfolio downstairs and sat down to work on it.

“Don’t you have any other schoolwork?” he asked her.

She didn’t look up. “I finished it in class.” She worked in silence for a few minutes, and then sighed audibly.

“What?” he asked. “Stuck?”

She laid her head down on the paper and nodded on the table. “I don’t know what to write about in this part.”

Her piece was instrumental. Rina’s Conservatory teachers back home required that her competition piece had to be about something. She had written a paper on the subject and submitted it to a review months before she had composed anything, which was how she had been chosen to present on tour. She wouldn’t let him read the paper so he didn’t know what it was supposed to be about. She was selective about what she showed him ever since he had teased her about writing poetry to Anton Landseer, whose talent with the guitar was apparently something to scream about. She had yet to forgive him.

He was secretly very proud of her. Rina had been selected to tour with Landseer and a small group of other prodigies, something she had been glowing about for weeks before they suddenly had to leave. She’d probably been replaced by someone else by now. He had to admire her for wanting to finish the piece anyway, even though it seemed clear now that they weren’t going to go back and she wouldn’t get a chance to present it—not the way she intended anyway. He hoped she would get the chance to play it in some other venue.

“You want me to help you?” he asked her.

She nodded and made room for him at the table.

He wasn’t sure how much help he would be, but he sat down beside her and thumbed through the sheets, reading up and down the staff lines. He was good at counting and rhythm, but it was hard for him to sound out a melody without hearing it played, and he wasn’t much of a composer. Rina could look at notes and just sing it, or hum it, or play it. She could also do it backwards. When composing, she said she usually felt something first, and played what she felt.

“Uh, okay,” he said. “I don’t know what you intended, but this part right here looks a little crowded. I think you have an extra pick-up.”

She erased part of the stanza, thought for a moment, and penciled the notes back in a little differently. He counted the beats according to what she had written for the time and nodded.

“Okay. So the next part is where you’re stuck, right?”

She nodded mutely.

While he was thinking, the door opened behind them.

“Mom!” Rina bounded off her chair, composition forgotten.

Their mother looked a little tired, her face flushed and glowing from sun and exertion, as if she had been on vacation. She was carrying bags full of packages, which she set hurriedly down on the floor in front of the window to prepare for Rina’s fast hug. Rina was squealing before Itachi had a chance to even stand and greet her.

“Itachi made Genin!” Rina exclaimed.

“So I heard,” their mother murmured. Her eyes sparkled when she looked at him over Rina’s head. “Congratulations.”

He couldn’t help smiling.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” she added. “I did some shopping on the way home.”

It relieved him to know why she had returned so late in the day, but shopping wasn’t what most interested Itachi. “Did you see Gehard?” he asked her.

“No,” she said. “It seems he followed me here, but I was informed he has gone back home.”

Itachi felt tension drain out of him. “He’s given up?”

“Well,” she murmured. “We’ll see about that.”

Rina was snooping in the shopping bags. She let out a shout of excitement that broke Itachi’s concentration.

“Presents! Are these for me and Itachi?”

“Of course.”

From the bag she withdrew boxes and packages wrapped in paper and tissue, each with a tiny tag reading either his name or hers. She gathered the ones with her name and hesitated, looking to their mother for approval, hands fidgeting. Rina loved presents. Itachi laughed. When his mother nodded assent, Rina rip apart the packaging.

Itachi was startled by the contents, and craned his neck to see better. It wasn’t souvenirs as he had expected. It was…

Rina was struggling to pull wrist guards onto her hands. They were midnight blue, covered her palms with thick, padded cloth, and ran all the way up to her elbows. There were open-toed cleats in the box, which she immediately put on her feet. The parcels wrapped in tissue paper contained skin-tight black leggings cut short to the knee, a charcoal gray flap skirt, and a blue v-neck shirt with black mesh around the neck and short, arm-hugging sleeves.

Shinobi combat clothes. Everything was brand new. It was all top of the line. It was all the height of fashion. Gathering her goods into a pile, Rina kissed their mother on the cheek and ran with the gifts up to her room.

Itachi just stared as his mother handed him a stack of similar boxes.

“Congratulations again,” she told him. “And happy early birthday.”

Itachi took the boxes to his room and immediately put everything on. The pants were black. The cleats were blue. The shirt was dark blue like Rina’s, and crossed with a layer of black mesh. There was a jacket too, made from some kind of tough material, also black, with pockets and steel gray buckles on the sleeves and a wide collar with snaps that ran up one side. He could pull it up around his face or unsnap it and fold it around her shoulders. He did this a couple of times and then re-tied the Konoha headband around his forehead.

One of the smaller boxes held dark blue gloves. They were fingerless with thin metal plates woven into the material over the palm—the plates could be removed by undoing a buckle and unwrapping part of the glove. There was also an armguard. It took Itachi a few minutes to figure out how to strap it on to his left forearm. It was made of metal and black leather. There were several slots along the outside, used for catching a blade and disarming an opponent using a katana, sword, or long knife.

When he had all the pieces precisely arranged, he turned and looked at himself in the mirror. The transformation was astonishing. He looked like a real ninja. The effect was so severe, he made faces at himself until a knock sounded at his door.

“Come in,” he said.

It was Rina. She peeked inside. “You look scary!” she exclaimed.

He smiled at her. “You look cute.”

She pranced all the way in and did a turn. Her outfit was definitely cute. He had a feeling that his mother shopped for Rina that way intentionally. Of course, all the pieces were functional, but it was still very, very cute.

He removed the arm guard because it was a little heavy, and tossed it on the bed, but left everything else on.

They went downstairs together. Their mom was reclining at the table, a cup of warm tea clasped between both hands. She lifted her head and appraised them both.

“You look adorable,” she told Rina. To him she said: “You look even more like your father.” Her expression twisted slightly. “Especially the colors. I don’t know if I did that subconsciously or accidentally.”

He mulled that over, and was struck by a sudden idea. “Mom, can I go out?”

“Where?”

“I want to see Sasuke. Now that I’m a Genin, I’d like to talk to him.”

He knew from the length of time she paused that she didn’t like the idea, but she wasn’t going to tell him he couldn’t go.

“We’ve never really had a conversation,” he added.

“Don’t stay out too late,” she said. “And don’t overstay your welcome. If he doesn’t want to talk to you, come straight home.”

He nodded. “I won’t stay at all. I just have something I’d like to ask.”

He turned to the door. Rina followed on his heels, as if attached to him by a string.

“Where are you going?” his mother demanded.

“With Itachi,” she answered. “I want to see Sasuke too. Is that okay?”

Itachi paused with his hand on the door handle. He wasn’t sure Rina should come along actually, but he didn’t see what right he had to stop her, so when his mother just nodded, he held the door open and let her duck under his arm. He wasn’t sure she wanted to see Sasuke so much as she wanted to be a witness.

They made their way across the village mostly in silence, the sun beginning to set at their backs. For several blocks, Rina half chased her shadow, skipping, hopping, and turning, admiring the outline of her new clothes.

Itachi walked with his head half down, thinking about what he was going to say, and what he would do depending on the response he was given. He took deep breaths.

At length, Rina wound down and fell in beside him. She matched her stride to his, which forced her to take large steps. He unconsciously shortened his so she could keep up.

“Are you going to ask him to train you?” Rina asked him.

Itachi expelled the breath he was holding. “I’m going to ask him what he thinks about training me.”

“He doesn’t like us,” she said. She looked straight ahead when she said this, her dark eyes very serious.

“It’s not that he doesn’t like us,” Itachi informed her. “The Hokage told me. It’s difficult for Sasuke to accept us because his brother killed his family. In his mind, we’re not supposed to exist. And I guess that growing up he really loved his brother, so that makes it harder. It doesn’t help that mom is... like she is. But I asked Sakura about it, and she seemed to think that maybe he would be open to the idea if I approach it the right way.”

Rina was very quiet, absorbing all he said without turning her head.

Itachi knew exactly where Sasuke lived. He and Sakura had a place together. He had taken trouble to avoid it since to moving to the village, sometimes cutting wide swaths around the outer streets to make sure he didn’t accidentally run into his uncle unannounced.

Overall, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Sasuke. He wasn’t sure at all how this would go.

They turned a corner and approached the house more or less in stride. It was located at the end of a quiet street, shaded by trees on the left side. A porch wrapped cozily around the right side. Through a window in the front, Itachi saw the flash of Sakura’s hair. She looked up and saw him. He thought he saw her smile before she turned her head and disappeared from view. Presumably, she had gone to inform Sasuke.

Itachi stopped several feet away from the house. Now he was feeling nervous. He could feel his muscles quietly shaking under his clothes. Rina stood on his left with her arms clasped behind her back. They waited side by side until the door opened.

Sasuke emerged from the interior of the house with his Sharingan was activated. Itachi swallowed, feeling his muscles lock up as that red-eyed gaze threatened to knock him flat from ten paces distant. His uncle stepped out on the porch, sweeping him and his sister head to toe in one glance.

“What do you want?” Sasuke asked. If a stone could talk, it would sound something like that. The severity took Itachi aback.

“I have something to ask you.”

He hadn’t expected his uncle to be happy to see him, but he had expected a slightly warmer reception than this. Sasuke’s face was like a sculpture carved from ice. It wasn’t natural. Itachi fought to understand. It reminded him a little of the way he stiffened up when he was angry or scared and was pretending not to be. Itachi wondered abstractedly what colossal emotion his uncle was trying to avoid feeling to look and sound the way he did.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” Itachi said. “It’s just…I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I..I’d like to get to know you. “

Sasuke’s face did not change. “You want me to train you,” he said. He stepped down from the porch and strode toward them.

Itachi took half a step back. Sasuke walked right up to him and looked into his face. The Sharingan eyes caught his and held him motionless. They were mesmerizing. They seemed to be trying to rip his thoughts and feelings right out of his head.

“You think because you are now a Genin, that I will train you, because we are related.”

Itachi struggled to speak. He did think that. Could a Sharingan read someone’s thoughts?

“We are related,” Sasuke said, “but we aren’t family. No matter your lineage, you aren’t an Uchiha.”

Itachi swallowed. He just couldn’t accept that. “If I have a Sharingan—”

“Better for you if you don’t. If you do, leave it buried. Forget about it.”

Itachi didn’t understand. Did Sasuke just not want him to be blessed by something so precious to his family? That would make sense, but then why would it better for him not to have one? Such an edict went against everything he had been told. Everyone kept asking him about whether or not he had a Sharingan. By everything he had heard about it, it was an incredible gift.

“I don’t understand.”

Sasuke straightened and turned his face away, staring at the mountains rising around the village. “The Uchiha Clan is cursed,” he said. “It doesn’t need new members. It would be better for its accursed history to die with me.”

Sakura walked out onto the porch. She was staring at Sasuke with a stricken expression. Her shock was so profound, it shook Itachi out of his petrified state.

“Cursed? What do you mean?” he demanded. “I thought the Uchiha were supposed to be a great clan.”

“Ah,” Sasuke agreed. “They were great—Greatly feared, both by other ninja, and their own members.”

Itachi felt his stomach clench. He experienced a flash of intuitive understanding. Family members that couldn’t trust each other. Family members that hurt each other. Family members that killed each other. He understood, but his imagination refused to accept it.

Sasuke didn’t allow him to remain ignorant. He leaned close. His words poured into Itachi ears like ice and darkness. “The Uchiha Clan thrived on greed, hate, and vengeance. It was tradition for members to betray and murder each other, even their closest friends, even their own families, for power. By this method, the Sharingan can be greatly enhanced.”

Vague images sprang up in Itachi’s mind. “I—“

Sasuke’s pulled back. His face was hard, bleak, and certain. “That is why it is better if you don’t have one.” Without saying anything further, he turned and walked back toward the house.

Words struggled to break free from Itachi’s throat, but were caught and stifled by the dryness in his mouth. Sakura stood like a statue on the porch.

Itachi felt Rina clasp his hand, her small fingers slipping into his palm.

“I don’t care about that!” Itachi shouted.

Sasuke mounted the steps and stopped, turning back to look at him.

“I came here because I want to know what my father was like,” Itachi said. “That’s all. I don’t care about all that power stuff. You knew him best. Maybe things were bad. Maybe they were really bad, but Naruto said you were close once. I’m sure there were some things about him that were good. My mother must have seen something, so I thought…”

“Your mother?” Sasuke said contemptuously. “Something good?”

Itachi shrugged that off. He didn’t know her. He was used to people making statements like that. But he knew that his mother, whatever her faults, was very particular.

“Anything you could tell me. It can’t be all terrible—”

“It is terrible,” Sasuke replied. “And what your mother did? You should know I consider it an offense. You should never have been born.”

Itachi didn’t know what to say. His mother again. Always it came back to her. Her passions. Her selfishness. Her calculations. The things she did and never explained. Why was it always her? He had wanted so much for Sasuke to see the good parts of his brother in him, anything he had liked once, something worth instructing…

It was as if Sasuke could read his mind.

“Do you think you can replace him?” Sasuke asked, “Maybe you thought that if you came here looking like a Shinobi I might think of you as a second chance, that it can all be done over? Something like that is not possible. I don’t want to replace Itachi. And I won’t train you.”

Itachi’s eyes felt hot.

“If you got to know me—“

“I don’t want to know you.”

“Why not?”

But Sasuke didn’t answer. Instead, Itachi felt a change, like a ripple in the air. It was so smooth, he might have thought he imagined it, if not for all the practice he’d had a few hours ago. One second he was staring at Sasuke, while behind him, Sakura’s expression was firming into hard anger. The next, Sasuke and Sakura were both gone. His hand was empty. He turned his head, but Rina was gone too.

“This is…” he said to himself, looking around, at once confused and yet feeling he knew the answer a second ago, if only he could remember it.

He turned to look back at the porch.

There was a man standing there. It wasn’t Sasuke, but a resemblance was striking. Even more striking was how much the man resembled Itachi’s own reflection. The man was wearing black pants and a black shirt with a wide collar. He wore light armor over the shirt, and arm guards on both forearms. He carried a sword in one hand. He stood completely motionless, hair tied behind his neck. He was young, maybe a handful of years older than himself, but his face was the face of someone who had lived lifetimes compacted into incremental moments. He stared at Itachi with crimson, Sharingan eyes.

Itachi couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what address to use for starters, and he had no idea what to say.

This is impossible. This can’t be real.

It had to be a—

Genjutsu

If he could disrupt the chakra flow…

But a part of him didn’t want to.

“Are you my father?”

The apparition smiled, but not in a way that was pleasant. Itachi noticed something else then. He felt his heart race. The sword clutched in Itachi Uchiha’s hand was dripping blood. And there were shapes behind his heels. It took him a few seconds to realize they were bodies. Itachi didn’t recognize them, but he felt sure they were his grandparents.

Before he could think or speak, the image of his father shimmered and changed.

The armor and sword vanished. The bodies behind him were gone. The face that stared into his was still that of Itachi Uchiha, but now it was ashen, like a corpse. Blood trailed from both sides of his mouth. The flesh on the left arm was bloodied and burnt. The eyes were no longer red. They weren’t even black. The corneas seemed to have torn themselves apart. A chalky film the color of milk flooded the area where the pupils and irises used to be.

Itachi felt sick. He turned his head away, and saw Sasuke, standing a few feet behind his left shoulder. The expression on his face was so bleak it hurt the eyes.

There was a thump.

Itachi turned back. His father’s body was on the ground, face up, staring blindly into a sky that was dark with rumbling clouds. Somewhere, he thought he heard someone crying, but he didn’t know who it was. Then, as he watched, the body on the ground turned black, rippled and shattered into a mass of crows.

They dove straight at him. Instinctively, he dropped to his knees and covered his face with his arms.

“Itachi!”

It was Rina’s voice, screaming in his ear.

He looked up, dazzled by the dying light of day.

He was kneeling on the ground. Rina was shaking his arm, her face a mess of fright.

“I’m okay,” he assured her, blinking as he reoriented himself with what he hoped was reality. “It was just a genjutsu. What happened?”

Rina pointed to the porch.

Itachi looked. It was immediately obvious what had happened. Sasuke was standing still, his head turned aside. The left side of his face was turning an ugly shade of green. Sakura stood beside him, her fist glowing with tightly controlled chakra, but shaking so badly it was difficult to tell whether she was going to hit him again or collapse where she stood. Her expression was a cascading tumble of emotions---rage, pain, misery. Sasuke didn’t speak. His expression was hidden by his hair, but the feeling that came from him was deadness. Motionlessness. He just stood there while she shouted at him.

“How could you? How could you?” Sakura was screaming, over and over.

Itachi got slowly to his feet. “Let’s go,” he said to Rina.

His legs almost didn’t want to support him, but he forced himself to move, to retreat with Rina back up the street and away from the house surrounded by trees and tweeting birds and the light of a golden sunset. It didn’t seem cozy anymore. He wanted to get away.

“What did he do?” Rina gasped as soon as they were out of earshot.

“He showed me my father. I think—“ Itachi began. “I think Sasuke killed him.”

Rina’s eyes widened.

He stopped in the middle of the street and stared down at the ground, trying to process what he had seen and felt. Had Sasuke killed his brother? Maybe it wasn’t just a dream. Maybe what he had seen were Sasuke’s memories. Sasuke spoke as if he had nothing but hate for his family, and his brother especially, and certainly he had reason, but the look on his face…

Itachi shook his head. Without anymore thought, he broke into a run.

He ran all the way home. Rina followed behind him, screaming at him to slow down. But he didn’t. He didn’t want her to catch him this time.

He broke through his front door and slammed his hands down on the table where his mother was still nursing her tea. She looked up at him, a startled expression on her face.

“Are you all right?”

“He hates me,” he seethed.

She rose from her chair. Itachi backed up, glaring at her.

“He doesn’t hate you,” she told him. “If anything, he hates me.”

“No, he hates that I’m alive. He said so. And I don’t even know why I care so much. It’s just—Ugh!”

“Itachi.” Her tone was sad. Sad for him, he knew. He struggled to voice his real feelings to her. He wanted to scream a little. He wanted to ask her about his father. He wanted her to tell him why. What had kept her with such a man? But he couldn’t. He was conditioned to speaking carefully. But he hated having to defend her all the time. He hated that he couldn’t separate himself from her and the things she did. He wanted to blame her, but he couldn’t.

“Did you have to name me after him?” he forced out.

“I wanted to.”

“Sasuke told me the Uchiha are cursed, that they betrayed and killed each other for power.”

“I don’t know about that. I’m sorry.”

“And my father was the worst of all. He killed everyone. And Sasuke killed him. Did you know that?”

Her face was stricken. Maybe she hadn’t known.

“He wishes I was never born! He can’t stand the sight of me. He doesn’t want to train me, not ever. He thinks I’m cursed.”

“You are not cursed.”

He forced himself to calm down. His eyes were still hot, but he refused to rub them. Stupid hormones.

His mother spoke to him in a slow, certain tone. “I wanted you more than anything,” she told him. “I love you more than anything.”

He nodded, looking down at the floor. His breathing slowed down.

Behind him, the door opened. Rina gave him a reproachful look as she came inside. Without a word, she picked up her composition and her flowers from the table and went upstairs.

Itachi took a deep breath and turned back to his mother. “I want to find my team,” he told her. “Is it okay if I’m out late?”

His mother nodded. She seemed to understand. He didn’t want to be home. He didn’t want to be thinking. He would rather be with friends. He’d like to be fighting. Haro would be up for it. Amaya would come too.

He went upstairs to his room for his arm guard as well as the kunai knives and shuriken and other tools his mother had bought for him. When he was all prepared, he left his room and knocked on his sister’s door.

“Rina?”

She didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry for running ahead of you. I know you are mad at me. If you like, I’ll help you work on your composition more tomorrow.”

She still didn’t answer. She was probably nursing her anger. She was emotional and had a tendency to sulk when she was upset. She would be more amendable tomorrow. She was probably tired too.

He left her door and went back downstairs. His mother watched as he let himself out.

The day had turned to night. The air was crisp and cold. The chirping of bugs had replaced the tweeting of birds. He winnowed his way through the streets to Haro’s house, hurrying so he wouldn’t think so much. The windows in Haro’s home were full of light. He could hear many voices inside the house. Half of them seemed to be yelling, but he couldn’t tell if it was angry yelling or just loud talking. He hesitated before knocking on the door.

Haro himself flung it open. “WHAT?! Oh, it’s you. Hey. What do you want?”

Someone shouted something in the background. Color suffused Haro’s face, reddening his neck down to his collar. He turned and screamed over his shoulder.

“I said I would do it!” Haro yelled back. “If I say I’ll do it, I’ll do it! You don’t have to keep asking!”

He turned back to Itachi.

“Uh,” Itachi said. He struggled internally with what to say. He didn’t want to mention Sasuke or say he was upset or indicate just how much he wanted to hit something. “Is your family having a fight?”

“Huh? Oh. Nah,” Haro said. He peered closer at Itachi, blinked, and pulled the door open wider. Yellow light spilled out onto the porch. “Hey! You look great! Did you get new clothes?”

“Yeah,” Itachi said, brightening immediately. He had almost forgotten.

“Well, geez, they’re great. We should try them out. ” He turned over his shoulder again and shouted in a voice that would have carried half a mile. “I’m going out to train! I’ll be back later!”

Voices came back at him, still sounding like yelling to Itachi, but Haro seemed unperturbed as he shut the door.

“Is your family mad at you?” Itachi asked.

“No. They’re just loud. My brothers want me to help fit the new windows we just got.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s get Amaya,” Haro suggested.

Amaya’s house was as dark as Haro’s was bright. Itachi worried that she may have gone to bed, but Haro didn’t think so. They knocked on the door and only waited seconds before Amaya answered it. Behind her, the house was not only dark, but dead silent.

“Up for some night training?” Haro asked her.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Itachi got new clothes.”

Amaya looked at Itachi and beamed. “They’re great!” she exclaimed, and then said, “yeah, let’s go. I need night practice.”

As they headed for the training grounds, it occurred to Itachi that Amaya didn’t ask permission to go anywhere or even mention that she was going out. He asked her quietly if anyone would worry.

“My dad is on a mission,” she answered, and smiled at him. “You look really good.”

He flushed, grateful for the cover of darkness, and smiled. He was feeling cheered already.

*****

“How could you! How could you! How could you!”

She must have said it a dozen times. Maybe two dozen. Sasuke couldn’t think when her face looked so wrecked. All he could see were the angry tears streaming down her cheeks. When he didn’t respond, she started punching his arm. And still he couldn’t answer.

He didn’t know the answer.

He didn’t know how to explain at least without hurting her. Since coming back to Konoha, he had smiled more, and laughed more, but all the sadness and pain and loss did not vanish. He woke up every morning with guilt and fell asleep to regret. He wanted to keep that from her. He wanted to smother his sorrow, to move past sadness.

He didn’t want to weigh Sakura down with it. He didn’t want to weigh Naruto down either. Each day he tried to be a little happier than the day before, but the ache didn’t go away. Sometimes it was easier, sometimes harder, but it was never gone completely. Talking about it to people who just wanted to be happy, who just wanted him to be happy, was not something he wanted to do.

And then that woman came. What she had done to his brother, what she had forced him to do to her, was reprehensible, monstrous. And when he saw her kids… He couldn’t hold it in. He knew the child did not deserve to carry the burden of his pain anymore than Sakura did, but it came boiling out when he saw that face—his brother’s face. Part of him might have been trying to protect the kid.

Or was he just doing to Itachi’s son what Itachi had done to him? He didn’t know.

“He is my student!” Sakura was screaming at him. “He asked me if he could talk to you! He trusted me. How could you? He is a child. He just wants to know you!”

“Sakura...”

He tried to grab a hold of her. He grasped her wrists, but she pulled her arms free. He wrapped his arms around her body, tried to pull her against his chest, but holding her was like trying to grasp a wriggling fish. She squirmed against his embrace, and became more violent when he didn’t release her. She shoved at his chest until he grunted and let her go.

She pulled back from him, stared into his eyes. All the pieces of her face were quivering.

“You think Uchiha children are cursed?”

Sasuke felt his blood freeze in his veins.

“I—”

She was waiting for him to deny it, and he couldn’t, because it was true. She knew it. She would have slapped him if he did deny it.

“You think any children you have would be cursed too.”

He opened his mouth.

“No,” she said. She shrugged her shoulders in a way that frightened him. Her eyes completely avoided his. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now.”

He attempted to grab hold of her again, but she sidestepped his attempt and slid past him.

“I have to go.”

“Sakura...” He caught her elbow, spun her around, tried to kiss her.

She shoved him—hard. “I said I have to go.”

He watched her leave, running, not walking, away from him.

He stood for awhile on the porch in the dusk, not thinking or moving or even sure that he was breathing.

At length, Sasuke walked inside in a daze.

He robotically pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down. Minutes ticked by before he began to feel something in a small part of his chest. Some kind of emotion. As he considered what it might be, it began traveling down his arms and legs until his whole body was trembling with it.

He laid his head against the table. He ached for Sakura.

A knock sounded at his door.

He got up, bewildered, and opened it.

There was no one there, but lying on the doormat was a bouquet of pink, yellow, and white flowers tucked amidst a storm of green leaves and stems.

*****

Naruto stood staring at the board on the wall where he had pinned all the past and upcoming mission requests from the last month so he could see them all at once. In his hands he held a piece of paper. The paper tallied all the revenue earned from missions on one side and numerous expenses on the other. Missions were costing more than they were earning, mostly because there weren’t enough high paying jobs. That was the problem with peace, he guessed. Everyone felt safer, and that meant their best Jounin were kicking back on their heels. Managing deployment was getting tricky.

They were going to have to severely limit the number of Chuunin who became Jounin this year, and also the number of Genin who became Chuunin, to keep up with the costs of operation.

And even that might not be enough. He scratched his head as he ambled his way through the complications. More Shinobi were in the village for longer intervals. A consequence he had never considered before was what effect that would have on the population. Everyone was having babies. There were more birth and wedding announcements than they could support with the funding they had. It was exciting, but the village was growing too fast.

There was no help for it. He was going to have to write to the feudal lords.

He sighed. This part of being Hokage was not fun.

A bang startled him out of thoughts. He turned to see Sakura burst through the door. The first thing he reacted to was the fury in her face. He stiffened out of habit, steeling himself for a knock against the head, though he had no idea what for. Instead, she collided against his chest and buried her face into his shoulder.

His arms wrapped comfortingly around her back.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

But he didn’t really have to ask. He knew. He had half expected this, while hoping against it, for some time.

“You want me to hit him for you?” he asked her. “I’ll gladly sock him anytime.”

She laughed. It came out a startled, half-choked sound, soggy with tears, but it was a laugh. She pushed away from his shoulder. She bit her lip, dashed shining tears away from her eyes, and smiled at him.

“Thanks, Naruto,” she said, “but no, I don’t want you to do that. We just had a fight is all. Itachi came by and Sasuke just…blew up. And I—” She took a couple steadying breaths. “Well I’m sure we’ll talk about what he said. It will be fine, I know, but right now I just—I don’t want to see him.”

“Hmm,” Naruto said, and looked again at his wall. “Want to get out of the village? I’ve got a mission for you and your new team if you think they’re ready.”

Her eyes lit up at the suggestion. “What is it?”

“Transport mission. Safe delivery of some official records. It will get you out of here. You could leave tonight.”

She threw her arms around him. “Thank you! Yes! I’ll go find them right away.”

*****

The rest of Lucia’s tea had gone cold at her elbow.

So Sasuke had killed Itachi Uchiha. That had been one of the rumors that drifted to her ears when she learned he was dead, years ago, but she had never confirmed it. Her imagination circled the implications. The last time she had seen Itachi Uchiha, he had been close to death already.

It was strange. Before she learned of his death, she had spent some time wondering what she would do if, against all reason, he was still alive when she returned to this country. Some part of her had hoped he would be, though it made little sense to wish for it. Sasuke had been after his life, with good reason, which she well understood at the time, and still… Rational or not, there was something about her meetings with Itachi that had always left her with a lingering sense of longing.

She went to him for the pain, but that had ended when he expressed disenchantment with it, and still she kept opening her door to him. It wasn’t the physicality alone that drew her. She had a husband for that. It was something particular, a sort of sweetness that was dark and decadent and potent. He made her feel weak and strong in all the opposite ways she was used to. Her fascination was magnetic.

But her attachment had troubled her. The last night she had seen him, she had witnessed his illness for herself. She knew he would not live long. Her reaction had unsettled her more than at any time since she had been forced to marry. What kind of person had she become to be so tenderly attentive to a vicious murderer? It upset her so severely that after they parted, she left the country.

If such a thing was possible with a man about whom she had known next to nothing, what his brother felt—

Lost in thought, she was surprised when her son returned only an hour or so after he had slipped out from under her roof. Given that he had left in a cloud of depression and self-doubt, she was surprised by how excited he seemed when he burst through the door. The resilience of youth, she thought, at least at first, until he spoke.

“I have a mission!” he exclaimed, half crowing with excitement. “We’re leaving tonight!”

She blinked. “What?”

He walked right by her and into the kitchen. He rummaged in the cupboards, packing himself meals, it seemed. “It’s great,” he said. “I couldn’t ask for better. I need to get the fuck out of here.”

“Excuse me?”

His face colored. “I said need to get out of here,” he mumbled, and looked at her sideways. “Sorry.”

She let it slide, but not without a frown. “What mission are you talking about?”

“It’s a transport trip,” he told her. “I don’t know the details. We’re all going to meet with the Hokage to find out. But I came to tell you first.”

Lucia felt like her heart had dropped into her abdomen. Nervousness must have showed on her face, because her son’s smile slipped.

“We’re just delivering something,” he assured her. “I’ll be with my team, and with Sakura.”

“I don’t want you to leave the village.”

He stared at her incredulously. “You went out of town and nothing happened!”

She supposed that was true, but it didn’t change how she felt.

“Gehard isn’t even here,” he added. “You said it yourself.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“Well, if he is here, and on the slightest chance I happen to get anywhere near him, I don’t think he would recognize me. He wouldn’t think I’d be a Genin. Besides, I might be able to take him now. I almost hope I do run—”

“Don’t talk foolishness! It’s not Gehard I’m worried about and you know it.”

He dropped his eyes and settled back on his heels. A few moments passed while he considered her words. She crossed her arms. Gehard wasn’t nearly as dangerous as those he might hire. Her son understood that. She knew he understood that. But when he looked up, she saw resolution in his face. “I won’t do anything stupid,” he said more seriously. “I will be careful.”

He was so young. If something should happen to him…

“Mom, it doesn’t really matter what you think. You wanted me to be a ninja. Well, ninjas have missions. I have to go.”

She felt as if she had swallowed a stone. That was true. It was undeniably true. She had encouraged this very thing, knowing from the beginning what it might mean. She had weighed the risk and decided it was for the best. But she couldn’t keep her fear down. His young life, so important, so precious to her, was built on so much death and loss. His father. Her father. Looking at the gravity in his face, she felt like she was out to sea in a storm.

“Don’t worry,” he said, and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

*****

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! If you log in, I try to respond. I am also trying to update faster. Please review again! The comments make all the effort worth it. New people have recently added the story to favorites or put it on alert. Please introduce yourselves and let me know what you think. I would really like it ^^