Fleeting Serenity
Itachi is craving something sweet.
And nothing— and no one— is going to stand in the way of that craving.
Perhaps it's the time he's spent with you, short as it may be, that makes it feel like an eternity. A change of pace, a shift in atmosphere— almost like an escape from reality.
With you, he almost forgets he's The Itachi Uchiha.
And that alone is enough to make his mouth dry in realisation.
"Is there anywhere that sells sweets around here?"
The question comes so casually that, for a moment, you almost think you misheard him.
You blink up at Itachi, studying him. His tone is as composed as ever, but there's something oddly determined about the way he asks. Like this isn't just a passing thought—no, he's serious.
Your lips twitch into a smirk. "Wait. You? Craving something? I thought you were above worldly desires."
He exhales through his nose, unimpressed. "Everyone has cravings."
You tap a finger against your chin, pretending to think. "So, if I don't find you something sweet, you're going to wither away and die?"
Itachi gives you a long, deadpan look.
"Fine, fine." You roll your eyes, already moving. "I'll go hunt down your precious sugar fix before you collapse from deprivation."
The two of you make your way through the dimly lit streets, the inn now behind you. It's late, but not late enough that the town is completely asleep. A few lanterns glow warmly along the paths, casting soft orange hues against the cobblestone.
You don't mind this. Walking alongside Itachi in companionable silence. It's strangely peaceful.
But there's something about him tonight—something unreadable. You can't quite put your finger on it, but for some reason...
It feels like he's craving more than just sweets.
A few stalls nearby are selling all sorts of food, each one looking warm and inviting. The area is bustling with people—families, but mostly couples strolling down the pathway. Some stop to make a purchase, while others walk and chat, lost in their own worlds.
The crowd is dense, and as you move forward, your shoulders brush against a few passersby. You glance at Itachi. He's composed as ever, but you catch the subtle way his gaze flickers around—scanning the crowd, reading the atmosphere.
"I didn't realize this was a prime date spot," you muse, watching a couple ahead of you share a skewer of dango.
He doesn't respond immediately, but there's a faint lift of his brow, like he's noticing it now too.
Your smirk widens. "How romantic of you, Uchiha."
Still, he says nothing, but you swear you catch the briefest twitch at the corner of his lips.
The stalls ahead are filled with an array of sweets—dango, taiyaki, red bean buns, even a few delicate mochi wrapped in leaves. The scent of warm sugar and grilled food fills the air, making your stomach stir in mild interest.
"Pick your poison," you gesture toward the options, stepping aside to let him survey the choices.
He eyes the selection for a moment before settling on something simple—mochi, lightly dusted with powdered sugar.
The vendor hands him a small serving, and Itachi takes it with a quiet nod of thanks. As he lifts the first piece to his lips, his expression remains neutral, unreadable. But as he takes the first bite, there's the smallest change—an almost imperceptible shift in his demeanor.
Not quite satisfaction. Not quite indulgence. But something... close.
And for some reason, watching him enjoy something so simple makes warmth flicker in your chest.
Your instinct tells you to look away—to pretend you're not completely enchanted by something so... simple. But let's be real, you're pretty shameless. Is it really that serious?
Still, you can't shake the thought that once you return to that hellhole of an organization, you might never see this side of Itachi again.
"You really like sweets, huh?" you remark, watching as he reaches for another piece of mochi.
His gaze flickers toward you, unreadable as always, but there's no denying the way his fingers linger just a second longer over the confection. "I don't dislike them," he answers simply.
You huff a quiet laugh. "Yeah? Could've fooled me."
For a fleeting moment, it's easy to forget who you both are. Just two people, standing in the middle of a bustling street, indulging in the simplest pleasure. No Akatsuki. No missions. No masks. Just dressed in a matching Yukata.
And maybe that's why something inside you stirs with a strange sort of urgency.
Because you know—when this mission ends, so will this fleeting moment of normalcy.
Cheeks still tinged with pink, you quickly avert your gaze, scanning the food stalls for anything—anything—to distract you from your creepy gawking.
Then, something catches your eye. Squid.
Oh, great. One of Babylonia's delicacies.
People always joke about how sea creatures look alien-like, but you know better. You're not even kidding. 'Seafood' is a common meal back home, just like the small alien-like creatures you used to eat on Babylonia.
Itachi watches as you make a beeline for the food stall, his head tilting slightly in curiosity. You move with purpose—like someone who's just spotted a long-lost relic of their homeland.
The vendor hands you a skewer of fried squid, and the second you take a bite, something unreadable flickers across your face. Nostalgia? Amusement? He's not sure.
"You act like you've just reunited with a lost lover," Itachi muses, stepping closer.
You swallow, side-eyeing him with a smirk. "You wouldn't understand, Uchiha. This is more than just food." You twirl the skewer slightly for emphasis. "This is history."
He exhales, the barest hint of amusement in his eyes. "Enlighten me, then."
You open your mouth, ready for another yap sessions— until, your foot steps on some yellow, slimy thingy and you lose your balance, tumbling onto his direction.
Itachi reacts instantly. One second, you're slipping, and the next, his hands are on you—one gripping your wrist, the other steadying your waist.
For a moment, time slows.
Your face is inches from his chest, your grip tightening around the half-eaten squid skewer like it's your last lifeline. The scent of his yukata—clean, crisp with a faint trace of something herbal—fills your nose.
People around you barely pay attention, too engrossed in their own evening strolls. But to you, this moment feels impossibly loud.
Itachi looks down at you, expression unreadable. "You were saying?" His voice is even, but you swear there's the ghost of a smirk there.
He lets go when you've finally gained your balance (and composure). His warmth still lingers on your Yukata. What the hell is this? Are you in some kind of, rom-coms movies?
You take a childish bite of your squid, chewing absentmindedly before looking up at his onyx eyes again.
"Eye—fogot," you mumble through a mouthful, barely making sense.
Itachi exhales sharply through his nose—whether in amusement or exasperation, you can't tell.
"You forgot?" he repeats, tilting his head slightly. His gaze flickers to the poorly wrapped yukata still hanging loose on your frame. You look ridiculous. Utterly out of place. And yet, it suits you.
You swallow your bite, clearing your throat. "Yeah. Happens sometimes."
He just stares at you for a moment before shifting his attention elsewhere. "Let's keep moving."
You don't know if it's just you, but you swear his fingers brushed yours ever so slightly before he turned.
Itachi, got his treats, and you got this warm feelings in your heart. Satisfied, it was time to return to your Inn.
The walk back is quieter than before—not awkward, just... different. Comfortable. The once-busy streets have begun to settle, lanterns flickering against the night breeze.
You steal a glance at Itachi. His expression is unreadable, as always, but his posture is more relaxed than usual. Maybe it's the sweet treats, or maybe it's just the temporary escape from everything. Either way, you don't question it.
By the time you reach the inn, you realize something—
You don't actually want this night to end.
He walks toward the window, likely preparing to settle there like some enigmatic, brooding character.
You remain by the entrance, contemplating. How can you stretch this night longer? Do you really want this night to end?
If you sleep now, the night will pass, and tomorrow will come. Then it'll be back to that dull routine—just fleeting, impersonal glances in the Akatsuki's corridors.
Your fingers twitch at your sides. You don't like this feeling—this strange pull, this hesitation. You're not one to dwell on things, yet here you are, standing at the threshold, reluctant to move forward, reluctant to let go of... whatever this is.
Itachi, as perceptive as ever, doesn't miss your hesitation. He turns slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours. "Something on your mind?"
You exhale sharply, rolling your shoulders. "Just thinking."
A beat of silence. He doesn't pry, doesn't demand an answer. But his gaze lingers, waiting.
You smirk, masking the unease settling in your chest. "How do humans usually end a date?" you ask, tilting your head.
That earns you the slightest raise of his brow. "This was a mission."
You grin. "And yet, here we are, full of sweets and sentiment."
Itachi exhales, something akin to amusement flickering in his expression. He considers your words, then, after a moment—
"A goodnight," he says simply. "That's how it usually ends."
You hum, stepping further into the room. "Boring," you mutter, but there's no bite to your words.
The night air is cool as it seeps through the window, brushing against your skin. You don't move to your futon, don't make any move to settle in for the night.
Instead, you linger.
And he lets you.
"I enjoy today's date," you say, taking a spot near him. You lean against the wall, eyes closed "Thankyou, for letting me experience.... most of this"
Itachi doesn't respond right away. His gaze shifts toward you, lingering just long enough for you to feel it. There's something unreadable in his expression, something caught between contemplation and quiet acceptance.
"You're an unusual person," he finally says, his voice low.
Your lips twitch into a smirk, eyes still closed. "So I've been told."
Silence settles between you, but it's not uncomfortable. If anything, it feels... natural. Like this is exactly where you're meant to be in this moment.
Then, after a pause—
"...I enjoyed it as well," Itachi admits.
Your eyes snap open, just in time to catch the way his gaze shifts slightly, like he's not used to voicing such things aloud.
You grin, leaning your head back against the wall. "See? Not so hard to say, huh?"
He merely exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly.
You close your eyes again, letting the quiet stretch.
Maybe tomorrow, things will go back to the way they were. Maybe this is temporary, fleeting—just a moment in time.
But for now, just for tonight, you let yourself enjoy it.
And maybe, with the air feeling this warm and inviting, just for a fleeting moment, you let your guard down. The weight of the night settles over you, and before you know it, you're drifting off—leaning against the wall, completely defenseless, as if danger isn't even a concept to you.
Itachi simply stares. Then, after a long pause, he exhales a tired sigh.
He can hear your steady breathing.
Unbelievable.
For a moment, he considers waking you. This isn't exactly the most comfortable place to sleep, and knowing you, you'll wake up with a sore neck and complain about it all morning.
But... he doesn't.
Instead, he watches the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of your shoulders, the way your expression has softened in unconsciousness. Defenseless, vulnerable—two words that should never describe someone like you, and yet, here you are.
Itachi lets out another quiet sigh. Unbelievable.
With careful movements, he shrugs off his outer yukata and drapes it over you, ensuring it covers your shoulders before leaning back against the window.
He doesn't know what's worse—the fact that you fell asleep so easily, or the fact that he doesn't mind staying like this a little longer.
After gazing out the window for a while, he finally decides to call it a night.
With quiet steps, he approaches your sleeping form. His hands slip under you, effortlessly lifting you into his arms—careful, calculated, as if he's handling something fragile.
You don't stir—not even a little. Either you're an incredibly deep sleeper, or you just trust him more than you should.
Itachi doesn't dwell on the thought.
With quiet, measured steps, he carries you across the room, mindful of any sudden movements that might wake you. Despite how easily you've fallen asleep, there's still an odd weight to the situation—something heavier than just your physical presence in his arms.
When he reaches the futon, he lowers you onto it carefully, adjusting the yukata so you don't wake up shivering. For a moment, he lingers, watching the steady rhythm of your breathing, the way your lashes rest against your cheek.
Then, without a word, he rises, moving to his own space.
Tomorrow, things will go back to how they were. Back to business, back to being mere colleagues forced to play pretend.
...That's what should happen, anyway.
Today's the big day! Time to act like you're deeply in love with the Uchiha.
As the adoption center comes into view, Itachi goes over the plan one last time. Several adopted children have disappeared without a trace. Your task is simple—pose as a couple looking to adopt, gain the caretaker's trust, and uncover the truth.
The orphanage looms ahead—quaint, well-maintained, and outwardly welcoming. A place that should radiate warmth. Instead, there's something... off. It's too pristine, too carefully constructed, like a perfect facade hiding something rotten beneath.
You keep your expression soft, warm—like a hopeful parent, eager to provide a child with a loving home. Itachi does the same, playing his role with effortless grace. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together in a silent, practiced gesture.
"Stay close," he murmurs, voice so low only you can hear.
Not that you need the reminder. There's an unsettling weight in the air, a tension that prickles at the edges of your senses. This place isn't right.
And you're going to find out why.
You dont say anything. Pretending to be the sweet, loving wife that you are. You observe him with mild surprise watching as Itachi takes the lead, handling most of the conversation with one of the caretakers.
Fingers interlacing.
The caretaker—a middle-aged woman with a kind smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes—welcomes you warmly. "It's always a pleasure to see couples looking to open their hearts and homes."
You offer a small, demure nod, letting Itachi take charge. He's effortlessly polite, his voice smooth and reassuring. "We've been considering adoption for some time now," he says, squeezing your hand gently, as if for reassurance. "We're hoping to find the right child to complete our family."
The words roll off his tongue so naturally, so convincingly, that for a split second, you almost believe them. Almost.
The caretaker beams, but there's something too measured in her gaze. "Of course. We do have many wonderful children, but we like to be... selective in the process."
Selective.
There it is. The first crack in the illusion of this place.
You tilt your head, feigning curiosity. "Oh? What do you mean?"
"Well, yes, yes. To ensure that all children gets to go home to a beautiful family. It's our main priority. We have... a few lists of children that might be suitable for your family."
You raise your eyebrows at this before glancing at the Uchiha's side profile. What does this mean? Not all children are for adoption? Itachi hums thoughtfully, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly—a subtle cue that he, too, has caught onto the odd phrasing.
"That's understandable," he says smoothly. "It must be difficult, ensuring each child is placed in the right home."
The caretaker nods, her smile unwavering. "Exactly. Some children... require more attention than others. We like to place them in environments where they'll truly thrive."
You decide to press a little further, tilting your head in feigned curiosity. "Oh? Is there a particular reason why some children aren't available for adoption?"
For the briefest second, something flickers in her expression—an almost imperceptible hesitation. But then, just as quickly, she recovers, her smile perfectly in place.
"Well," she says, folding her hands neatly in front of her, "some children have special circumstances. Some simply aren't ready to leave yet."
Lies.
Itachi glances at you, his expression unreadable. But you know what that look means.
This place is hiding something.
"I see" he nods.
"Alright, can we see them?" you ask, smiling innocently.
The caretaker's smile doesn't falter, but there's a slight stiffness in the way she tilts her head. "Of course," she says, clasping her hands together. "Right this way."
You exchange a glance with Itachi before following her down the hallway.
The orphanage is eerily quiet. Too quiet.
Children's homes are supposed to be lively, filled with chatter, laughter, and the occasional chaos that comes with looking after kids. But here? The silence clings to the air like a heavy fog.
As you pass by a few rooms, you catch glimpses of the children inside. Some are playing, others reading. But there's something... off.
They're too well-behaved. Too quiet. No bickering, no running around, no mischievous energy that kids usually have.
The caretaker leads you to a large room, where a few children sit in small clusters, some drawing, others playing with wooden toys.
"These are some of the children available for adoption," she says, gesturing toward them.
Itachi's hand remains firmly in yours as he scans the room, his gaze lingering on a few of the older children.
You're the first to notice it.
One of the kids—a boy, maybe ten years old—glances up at you. There's something sharp in his eyes. Not curiosity, not innocence, but... awareness.
Like he knows something he shouldn't.
Your hand slips away from Itachi's, almost deliberately. His gaze follows you as you move toward one of the children, but his fingers twitch slightly—lingering in the empty space where your touch had been. You weren't completely warm, yet somehow, the absence of your hand feels noticeable. Like proof that, for a moment, you were real.
You crouch down in front of the boy, offering him a small smile. "Hey there," you say, your voice light, almost teasing. "What's your name?"
The boy looks at you, then glances at the caretaker before responding. "Ren." His tone is careful, measured—like he's testing the weight of his own words before saying them out loud.
Something about him reminds you of a trapped animal. Not fearful, exactly, but wary. Watching. Calculating.
You tilt your head, resting your chin on your hand. "Ren, huh? That's a nice name." Your voice lowers just a little. "Are you happy here?"
The boy hesitates. Just for a second.
"Yes," he says. But his hands tighten around the wooden toy in his lap.
You don't need the Byakugan to see it.
Behind you, Itachi remains silent, but you know he's observing every detail—every subtle movement, every shift in expression.
The caretaker steps closer, her smile unwavering but her presence suddenly more imposing. "Ren is one of our brightest children," she says smoothly. "He's always been well-behaved and very mature for his age."
You glance up at her, matching her smile with one of your own. "Is that so?"
Ren doesn't say anything. Just watches.
Itachi finally speaks. "We'd like to spend some time with the children. Get to know them better before making any decisions."
The caretaker hesitates, but then nods. "Of course. Take all the time you need."
As she steps away, you return your focus to Ren, voice softer now. "You hesitated," you murmur.
His fingers tighten around the toy again, just slightly.
You lean in, just enough so that only he can hear.
"Why?"
It doesn't take the Byakugan to notice his edginess. His body language tensed, eyes eying you like you're some kind of predator. His hair dark just like his eyes.
Ren's small fingers clutch his wooden toy tighter, his knuckles turning white. He's wary. Suspicious. You've seen this before—this look. Like an animal that's learned the hard way not to trust an outstretched hand.
Your voice drops lower, just enough to be heard over the distant chatter of the other children.
"You don't have to tell me," you murmur, your fingers tapping idly against your knee. "But I can tell when someone's lying."
Ren's eyes flicker with something unreadable.
Itachi stands just behind you, arms crossed, silent but watchful. If Ren is observing you like a predator, then Itachi is watching Ren the same way.
Finally, after a long pause, the boy speaks.
"You're not really here to adopt, are you?"
A slow grin spreads across your lips.
"What makes you say that?"
"I..." Ren pauses, his eyes anywhere but on you. "I know... bad children doesn't get to find home"
"Bad children?" you echo, your voice losing some of its teasing lilt.
Ren nods, his grip on the wooden toy tightening. "The ones who don't listen. Who ask too many questions." His voice drops to a whisper. "They disappear."
A slow, creeping chill settles over you.
Behind you, Itachi's expression remains unreadable, but you can feel the shift in his posture—more rigid, more alert.
Your fingers drum against your thigh, a habit when you're deep in thought. "And... have you ever seen it happen?"
Ren hesitates. Then, slowly, he nods.
"They come at night."
You remember what Pain had informed you. Your client has grown suspicious of several adopted children vanishing. Her concerns were confirmed when one of her personally cared child Kaito, whom she had planned to adopt, disappears.
"Did they take Kaito too?" You watch as Ren's gaze flicker over you almost immediately.
"K-Kaito.." He repeats. Kaito was one of the kids that was brave enough to question things. He was outspoken and deemed 'trouble' by those adults.
Ren swallows hard, his small fingers gripping the edge of his sleeve. "He... he tried to fight them." His voice is barely a whisper now. "They took him first."
The pieces are falling into place, and you don't like the picture they're forming.
You crouch down, bringing yourself to Ren's level. "Do you know where they take the kids?" you ask, your voice softer now—gentler.
Ren shifts uncomfortably, stealing a glance at the nearest caretaker before leaning in closer. "The basement," he murmurs. "There's a door. They always go through there."
Bingo.
Behind you, Itachi exhales slowly. A nonchalant act, but you can sense the sharp calculation behind his gaze. This changes things.
You exchange a quick glance with him before turning back to Ren, flashing him a reassuring smile. "Thanks, kid. That helps a lot."
Ren hesitates before nodding. "Just... be careful. If they find out, they'll take you too."
You grin, ruffling his hair playfully. "Oh, they can try."
You notice the intense look from one of the caretakers— then put one arm around Ren's shoulders
"Aw, honey! Doesn't he look like you?" You dramatically turn to Itachi, eyes fluttering in a playful manner "He is so sweet I want him," you make a big show out of.. whatever this is. Although you could have worded your words better, it sounds like you're picking a pet instead of adopting a human child.
Itachi barely reacts, but you catch the subtle twitch of his eyebrow. He exhales through his nose, as if exasperated, but there's the faintest glint of amusement in his dark eyes.
The caretaker, however, looks unconvinced. Their stare lingers on you, scrutinizing, as if trying to decide whether you're actually an eager mother-to-be or something far less innocent.
You feel Ren stiffen slightly under your arm, but he plays along well enough, offering a nervous smile.
"We should take our time deciding," Itachi interjects smoothly, his hand resting on the small of your back in an almost possessive manner. His touch is featherlight, but the meaning is clear—he's playing into the act. "We wouldn't want to rush something this important."
The caretaker nods, speaking from all the way to the entrance door, watching you both carefully. "Of course. You're welcome to spend more time with the children before making your decision."
Your fingers tighten ever so slightly on Ren's shoulder before you pull away. "That sounds perfect," you say with a bright, innocent smile.
If they're onto you, you'll just have to make sure they don't live long enough to act on it.
Itachi pulls you away, fingers interlocked yet again. Away from the children and the caretakers.
Once you're a safe distance away, he slows his pace, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over the back of your hand. It's an unconscious gesture, almost too natural—like you two have been doing this for years.
"They're selective about which children can be adopted," Itachi murmurs under his breath, voice just low enough that only you can hear. "The others... disappear."
You glance at him from the corner of your eye. "And we both know 'disappear' doesn't mean they're running off to start new lives," you mutter.
Itachi's gaze sharpens, his expression unreadable. "Ren reacted to Kaito's name. He knows something."
Your fingers tighten slightly around his. "Then we need to get him to talk."
You turn a corner, leading him toward the gardens where fewer eyes are watching. You flash him a sweet smile—one meant for the occasional passerby—but your voice drops into something more serious.
"So, husband dearest," you tease, leaning in just a little closer than necessary. "How do we want to do this?"
Your breath hitches, but you keep your composure.
"Well," he starts, his voice low. His hand reaches up, fingers warm as they brush against your skin. With a deliberate slowness, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear—gentle, almost endearing.
"We need to find out the location of the basement."
You're convinced this man is playing a completely different game than you. What the hell was that? You almost forget how to function for a second.
But you keep your cool—mostly. You tilt your head slightly, maintaining that sweet, loving-wife facade. "The basement, huh?" you muse, pretending to be lost in thought while your mind scrambles to recover.
His fingers linger near your jawline for just a fraction too long before he finally steps back. "If the missing children aren't being sent to real families, they're being kept somewhere. And if they're keeping secrets, they're keeping them underground."
You nod, lips curving into a smirk. "Then I guess it's time to do what we do best."
"Try not to make a scene."
You feign an innocent look, placing a hand over your chest dramatically. "Me? Cause a scene? I would never."
His silence speaks volumes.
You glance around, weighing your options. The caretakers are watching you both like hawks, but they won't suspect much if you stay within your "new parents" role.
Then, an idea strikes.
You tug at Itachi's sleeve, your voice dripping with newfound excitement. "Darling, I just had the most wonderful thought."
His eyes narrow slightly at your tone—he knows you well enough by now. "What is it?"
"We should take a little tour of the place. You know, to see if it's a good environment for our future child." You flash him a too-sweet smile, lacing your fingers with his again. "Let's ask if we can look around."
Itachi hums, feigning consideration before nodding. "A reasonable request."
The caretakers exchange glances before one of them—an older woman with a stiff posture—nods. "Of course. We encourage all parents to familiarize themselves with the facility."
Perfect.
You just need one moment alone. One moment to activate your Byakugan and find that damn basement.
As you walk around, there seemed to be watchers in every corner. It was hard. They didn't even try to be subtle about it. There's no other option. The toilet it is.
You squeeze Itachi's hand lightly, signaling your next move. He gives you the slightest nod in return—he understands.
With a playful sigh, you dramatically stretch your arms. "Babe, I need a quick break. Do you mind?"
Itachi tilts his head, playing along. "A break?"
"Mhm." You lean in conspiratorially, lowering your voice just enough to make the caretakers think they shouldn't be listening. "Woman stuff."
The moment those words leave your lips, the male staff immediately avert their gazes, clearly uninterested in whatever details might follow. The older woman, however, watches you carefully.
Itachi takes this moment to add to the act, exhaling as if he's already used to dealing with you. "Don't take too long," he murmurs, giving your hand a light squeeze before letting go.
With that, you slip away toward the restroom, hoping for just a few precious seconds alone.
You make a beeline toward one of the toilet stalls, shutting the door behind you. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and concentrate.
Byakugan!
The familiar surge of chakra pulses through you as veins creep around your eyes like parasitic roots. Your vision sharpens, expanding beyond the walls.
Through the layers of the building, you scan every room, searching for anything out of place. The first few floors seem normal—just dormitories, playrooms, and offices. But then—
There.
Beneath the foundation, hidden behind layers of reinforced walls, you spot it. A basement. Large, cold, and unnervingly empty—except for the presence of several children. Some are sitting, others lying down, unmoving. The energy in the room is tense, suffocating.
Your fingers tighten into fists. Found you.
Just as you're about to deactivate your Byakugan, something shifts. A figure enters the basement. An adult—likely one of the caretakers—approaches the children. You watch as he crouches beside one of the smaller figures, tilting the child's chin up to inspect them. Then, he turns his head slightly—toward you.
A chill runs down your spine. No, he isn't actually looking at you. He couldn't possibly know you're watching. And yet... something about the way he pauses, as if sensing a disturbance, unsettles you.
Time to move. You blink rapidly, deactivating the Byakugan before pushing open the stall door. You need to get back to Itachi—now.
When you exit the bathroom, you found an interesting sight.
It was Itachi, conversing with Ren just outside in the garden. He seems to be smiling. You slow your steps, watching the interaction unfold.
Ren looks at ease, his usual wariness momentarily replaced by something softer—curiosity, maybe even admiration. Itachi, for his part, listens attentively, his lips curved into a subtle smile. It's not forced, not one of those polite, obligatory expressions. No, this one is different.
Genuine.
You weren't expecting that.
It's a stark contrast from the usual Itachi you know—the one who carries himself with quiet detachment, always keeping people at arm's length. But here, with a child, the walls seem thinner. Almost nonexistent.
Something stirs in your chest. It's not jealousy, no. Just... something unfamiliar. Something you don't quite know how to name.
Then, as if sensing your presence, Itachi glances up. His onyx eyes meet yours, the smile lingering for just a fraction of a second longer before fading into his usual neutral expression.
Right. Back to work.
You stride forward with purpose, closing the distance between you and him. Leaning in, your body nearly presses against his in a way that could easily be mistaken for PDA. From an outsider's perspective, it looks like nothing more than a casual display of intimacy—when in reality, you're whispering something meant only for his ears.
His body tenses for just a moment before relaxing, playing along with the act. You can feel the subtle shift in his posture—controlled, calculated, as always.
"They're hiding something underground," you murmur, your lips barely moving. "There's a basement, but it's heavily secured. No easy access."
Itachi hums, as if amused by something you said. To onlookers, it might seem like he's reacting to a flirtatious remark. But in reality, he's already processing the information, piecing together a plan.
Ren looks up at you both, blinking. "You two are really close, huh?" he says, tilting his head.
You grin. "Of course! I just love my husband soooo much." You draw out the words dramatically, making a point to tighten your grip on Itachi's arm.
Itachi, to his credit, doesn't react. But you swear you feel the slightest exhale—something between a sigh and a quiet surrender.
"One day, you'll find someone you can truly call yours—someone who will love you unconditionally, no matter what." You say it with such enthusiasm, as if you truly believe it. There's a certain joy in playing this role, almost as if you are Itachi's devoted lover. Your grip on his arm tightens ever so slightly, pulling it close to your body. He doesn't feel the warmth of your touch, the sincerity in your voice—whether real or not, he isn't sure.
His body tenses for just a moment before his gaze shifts to your face. That bright, unwavering smile of yours—it stands out against the dimly lit room. If he squinted hard enough, he might have mistaken you for a star.
Was this level of commitment to the act really necessary? Maybe, maybe not.
But he doesn't complain.
Ren's expression flickers—just for a moment. There's something behind his eyes, something unreadable. Then, he nods slowly, as if trying to believe your words.
"...I hope so," he says, voice small.
Itachi shifts beside you. His gaze lingers on Ren for a beat longer before he speaks, his tone softer than usual. "You will."
You blink, momentarily surprised. Maybe he's just keeping up appearances, playing the devoted husband role. Or maybe, just maybe, there's a sincerity in his words that even he isn't fully aware of.
Either way, you don't dwell on it for too long. You have a basement to break into.
You lead Itachi through the corridors, your fingers still intertwined with his.
His stomach churns—not out of unease, but something else he refuses to acknowledge. His dark eyes trail the subtle bounce of your head as you walk, the way your fingers feel against his own. Your hand is smaller, softer, untouched by labor, as if you've never done a single chore in your life.
And your posture—graceful, poised. You move like nobility, like someone born to command attention without trying.
Itachi's Sharingan flares to life the moment a few caretakers and guards attempt to block your way, their protests cut short—
"Ma'am, you can't go in there, it's restric—"
Before they can finish, their bodies go limp, collapsing to the ground as they sink into the depths of his genjutsu.
Your lips twitch upward, impressed but not surprised. "Smart boy," you murmur teasingly, squeezing his hand before letting go. The warmth disappears instantly, and he exhales through his nose, dismissing the feeling.
You kneel beside one of the unconscious caretakers, pressing two fingers against their wrist—still alive, just sleeping. That's good. You're not here to make a mess.