Miyu startles from her spot in the kitchen making breakfast as a knock sounds from her balcony door.

  From her place between the back bench and the island she can make out pink hair through the glass.

  “Come in,” she calls, and then turns to the fridge to get more ingredients.

  “Good morning,” Sakura’s smile leaks into her tone beautifully. Miyu thinks Nanami would appreciate its effect.

  “Good morning, Sakura-san,” Miyu greets as she turns to the chopping board on the island to finish dicing her vegetables. “Join me for breakfast? I’m making omelettes.”

  “I couldn’t possibly impose-”

  “Nonsense,” Miyu waves the hand not holding a knife at her, “I’d appreciate the company.”

  Gods, wasn’t that the truth? Alone in her apartment for four days now, and Miyu feels like she’s going to spiral so far down that she’ll never recover.

  “How have you been feeling?” Sakura asks, taking a seat on the other side of the island.

  “As well as can be expected,” Miyu says, keeping her gaze on the mushrooms and her knife. “Has the hospital been treating you well?”

  “Please don’t deflect with me, Miyu-san,” Sakura’s tone is dry, “it doesn’t look good on your mental health check.”

  Miyu pauses at that.

  “You’re here on… business, then?” she asks, turning to the stove to set the chopping board beside it.

  “Eh, I wouldn’t say that exactly,” Sakura laughs a little, “Sasuke is driving himself crazy trying to make sure you’re alright while his brother is out of the village.”

  Miyu smiles a little at that.

  “And he won’t come himself?” She tries to mask her amusement, but if the widening of Sakura’s smile is any indication, she’s failed.

  Miyu starts frying up her mushroom, onions, capsicums, and bacon.

  The ninja shrugs, “He’s conscious of the fact that you last saw him under traumatic circumstances, and he doesn’t want to risk setting you off. Thought it would be safer for me to come by, but I’ve been working back-to-back shifts.”

  “Back-to-back shifts?” Miyu raises her brows, “You must be starving. Hold on.”

  She cracks three more eggs into her existing egg-bowl and whisks them in.

  “Deflecting,” Sakura sighs, rubbing at her temples, “you won’t even address the trauma issue when I gave you an opening.”

  Miyu adds the spinach to the pan on the stove and watches it wilt under the heat.

  “I… am not accustomed to mental health being taken seriously,” she admits rather sheepishly. “I don’t – well, I’ve never really had to tell anyone how I was feeling before.”

  They’d all been able to see. Nanami and Kikyo had been best at it, and the two of them never pried or expected her to spill her innermost thoughts with them.

  “That makes a little more sense,” Sakura sighs again, and Miyu tips the egg mixture into the pan.

  “My apologies if I’m making your work difficult,” she says a little stiffly, because she’s not sure how to get better at this.

  “You’re not,” assures Sakura, “but I will need you to be as honest as you can with me. What’s spoken between us is confidential, and I only record behaviours that may pose a danger to you.”

  “Ah,” Miyu flips the omelette and the turns to get a few plates out.

  “I’d also like to do a physical check up on you after breakfast if you consent.”

  Miyu nods and continues assessing the omelette.

  It’s rather huge.

  She takes it out of the pan and sets it on a plate, for the both of them to pick at. The rice cooker chimes and she gets their bowls out and fills them. The pot of miso soup that’s been simmering on one of the back burners is the last addition to their meal.

  “Thank you for the meal,” Sakura says, clapping her hands together and bowing her head briefly.

  Miyu mirrors her, albeit a little delayed, but it’s been a little while since she ate with anyone and followed that particular ritual.

  “So,” says Sakura between mouthfuls, “how has your sleep been?”

  Miyu opens her mouth, and then closes it. Takes a sip of water and keeps her eyes on her chopsticks as she replies, “Broken. I struggle to fall asleep.”

  “And you wake up frequently throughout the night,” Sakura says it matter of fact, and it sets Miyu at ease a little.

  “Yes,” she confirms, and then takes a small mouthful of rice.

  “What would you say is the hardest part of your day in your current routine?” Sakura is still clinical, and the distance from anything emotional is appreciated.

  Miyu is quiet for a moment.

  “Getting out of bed,” her chest feels a little tight admitting it. She eats another mouthful of rice to have something to do other than stare dejectedly at her bowl.

  “Aha. Have you explored Konoha at all, or had any social interactions since Itachi was here?”

  Miyu shakes her head and tries not to feel embarrassed. It’s just so hard to think about who she would be.

  Before the fire, she was Sugawara Miyu, a renowned shogi champion who loved her life at the most prestigious Okiya in the Fire capital. Miyu, who worked until her eyes burned and her yawns cracked at her jaw.

  Who would sit at dinner with four women, all with different names and not a drop of blood shared between them, but together. Laughing and drinking tea and analysing nobility and gossiping and –

  She isn’t that Miyu anymore. Can never be her again.

  “Hey,” Sakura’s voice is low, “it’s alright. Everyone processes grief differently, and you’re not obliged to go and explore.”

  Miyu swallows and curls her fingers a little more securely around her chopsticks.

  “I don’t know who I am anymore,” she manages to get out around the thick ball of emotion in her throat. She presses her lips together and tries to keep her breaths under control, because she shouldn’t have said anything.

  It’s her problem to deal with, hers, and the act of burdening someone else with her worries makes her feel ill, gods –

  “That’s understandable,” Sakura is nodding, “and I may have a suggestion for you.”

  Miyu looks up at that, meets vibrant green eyes with her own.

  “I believe a routine may benefit you.” Sakura bites into a piece of the omelette and Miyu averts her gaze to her bowl of rice again.

  “Taking a walk a day, maybe visiting some sights, seeing new places, would do you good. And thinking about what you want to do-”

  “I want to work,” she blurts, and then feels her face go red. “I apologise for the interruption.”

  When she looks up, Sakura doesn’t seem annoyed.

  “I want to be busy again,” Miyu explains, fidgeting with her chopsticks a little. “Maybe I can get a position in a library, or in an administrative role, or-”

  “You could teach shogi,” Sakura’s suggestion is laced with an undercurrent of something Miyu can’t quite place.

  “I don’t have any qualifications to teach,” she says honestly.

  “You’re the best in the elemental nations,” Sakura’s matter-of-fact tone once again sets her at ease. “I don’t think anyone is going to care if you’ve got a teaching certificate or not.”

  Miyu lets herself think about it, fixing her eyes to one of Sakura’s shoulders.

  “Is shogi popular in Konoha?” she decides to ask, keeping as much curiosity out of her tone as she can.

  “Every clan, merchant, and ninja child learns shogi at the Academy. Many clans start their children younger than that, often as early as four.”

  Sakura’s smile spreads slowly across her pretty face.

  “I might know just the right person to ask about this, if you’re interested.”

  Miyu takes only a moment to think about it.

  “I would appreciate your assistance on this matter, Sakura-san.”

  .

  “Hiya, Miyu-chan! I’m Naruto, and I’m gonna be the best chaperone ever!”

  Miyu blinks at the teen before her. His sunny blonde hair and clear blue eyes are bright enough, but the smile on his boyishly handsome face is almost blinding.

  “Good morning, Naruto-san,” she greets, bowing politely, “I thank you for your guidance this morning.”

  It’s his turn to blink at her, and she knows he wasn’t expecting this. Not her hair twisted low into an elegant bun, her neat, modest yukata, the courtesies she uses to distance herself so frequently.

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  “Eh? No, no, don’t bow to me! Did Sakura tell you who I was? Geez, I hate all that formality stuff, believe it! Dad always makes me do it and it’s such a chore-”

  He’s wearing black pants and ninja-grade sandals, with a black singlet beneath an unzipped jacket. It’s bright orange colour is yet another thing about him that radiates positive energy.

  “-but at least mum’s on my side, ya know? Anyway, let’s go, I’ll show you the best way there.”

  She locks the apartment behind her and follows her loud chaperone down the staircases and out into the Konoha sunshine.

  It’s almost nine, and the streets are already full and bustling with life. It’s reminiscent of the capital. The flower districts come alive in the afternoon and night, but the market districts are abuzz with activity from a few hours before sunrise.

  “Beautiful, huh?” Naruto sighs, smiling at the people milling about.

  Miyu stops comparing and lets herself look.

  Her street is just off a main shopping strip. Mothers cart their children around, vendors stand talking and laughing, and the scents of food and fresh flowers from a stall across the road drift over to her. The sun is bright and warm, and a cool autumn breeze snatches away the brief build-up of heat.

  “It is,” she agrees, and she means it. The village Hidden in the Leaves is one of the safest places in Fire, and one of the most exclusive. Even exposed on the street, surrounded by an unspecified number of ninja who could see her dead at a moment’s notice, she feels secure. Not safe – never safe – but without the paranoia that plagued her past few months in the capital.

  When silence is her only response, she chances a glance to her blonde guide. He’s looking at her, a puzzled expression on his face, which is disturbingly easy to read for a ninja. Perhaps it’s a diversion technique?

  “Let’s go,” he says, and he’s toned the volume down a little as they go left, the Hokage Monument to their backs.

  Naruto keeps up a light stream of chatter, and Miyu contributes whenever is appropriate as she takes in the sights, sounds, and scents of Konoha.

  It’s more vibrant than she ever expected a village run by military dictatorship could be.

  The people – many civilians, if their clothing is to go by – look content. She wonders if there’s any cracks in this beautiful fa?ade. Cracks like those half-slums she lived in, once. Nameless, faceless, without anyone to care if a woman was beat to death by her husband, or if their daughter ran away to avoid the same fate.

  “Here we are!” Naruto declares after a twenty-minute walk through mostly busy streets.

  They stand before a large gate, bracketed on either side by tall wooden walls. When the ninja accompanying her knocks, it swings open to a beautiful courtyard.

  The high wooden fence surrounds the enclosed area, a mix of immaculately kept gardens and neat stone squares, with dozens of low tables and pillows making up an orderly grid. A chalk board has been pinned against one of the large pillars that supports the shaded walkway spanning the perimeter of the courtyard. At the far end of the – estate? – a traditional building stands, but Miyu can’t see far enough to figure out what’s inside.

  “This reminds me of being a kid,” smiles Naruto, obviously nostalgic, “but we had old Tanaka-sensei. You’ll be the first one to work here under the age of fifty, probably.”

  Miyu involuntarily smiles back. It’s only small, but it’s genuine, and by the look of the one he gives her in return, Naruto knows it.

  “Let’s go!”

  .

  Miyu’s interview consists of playing all six sensei in a simultaneous. Naruto stands, gaping and making ridiculous sound effects as she neatly shifts from table to table.

  “She beat you in thirty-four minutes, Tanaka-oji!”

  Miyu keeps her composure even as her opponent swats Naruto across the back of his head with a folded fan.

  The first few minutes had made her so nervous that she’d almost been sick. The anxiety churning in her gut at the chance of that game resurfacing mid-interview had been overwhelming.

  But she’s beaten four of the six in under forty minutes, and now with only two opponents to go, her stomach and mind have both settled.

  “Why is it,” Tanaka’s exasperated sigh has Miyu pressing her lips together to hide her smile, “that you’ve paid more attention to shogi in these forty minutes than you did in your entire six years under our tutelage?”

  “Eh?” Naruto’s exclamation is loud and abrasive, “But Tanaka-oji, watching a bunch of old people play doesn’t compare to watching someone like Miyu-chan! It’s like – like-”

  “Art,” concludes Tanaka, and she can hear the underlying smile in his tone.

  “I get what you were talking about now, believe it! It’s amazing!”

  Miyu claims victory against the remaining two, and when they all rise from seiza she bows deeply to the six of them.

  “Thank you for honouring me with an interview,” she says, and then focuses on the oldest man in the group.

  “It was a privilege to face you, Abe-sama. I’ve studied your games since I was a girl.”

  The man levels her with an appraising stare.

  “I believe the honour has been ours, to face one who has defeated Makishima four times now.”

  Four times, officially. Unofficially, the count is closer to eight, but those games are between Miyu and Makishima and no one else.

  “We have not taken kindly to the association’s failure to name you Meijin,” says Fujimori, the only woman on the staff, her brows pinched together.

  “Huh?” Naruto butts in again, eyes comically wide, “Meijin? No way, Miyu-chan! You beat the Meijin?”

  “Fool,” scowls Hirata, a man who she’d come up against in the previous year’s winter shogi tournament, “she is the Meijin.”

  Naruto gasps dramatically, and Miyu has to resist the urge to laugh as the staff sigh in varying levels of exasperation and disappointment.

  “Well,” she says with a smile, “not officially.”

  “We wrote to the association on multiple occasions,” Tanaka says with a pinched expression, “and we were not graced with a reply.”

  Oh, shit. The association was burning bridges alright.

  “What?” Naruto’s blunt question is almost yelled, “Why won’t they name Miyu-chan as Meijin? It’s been four years, right?”

  Suppressing a smile, Miyu shrugs.

  “I am a woman.” She says simply, watching as the five male members on the staff shift uncomfortably. It’s not the whole truth, of course. If she had been highborn, or from a wealthy family, the risk of insulting an important man would probably force the association into extending the correct formalities.

  As it had been, living at the Okiya had only been another factor contributing to her very particular status. The thought of her home makes her chest feel impossibly tight again.

  “Eh? They can’t be that backwards, surely?”

  Silence.

  “Where is this association? I’ll go kick their asses for you Miyu-chan, believe it!”

  She watches with a carefully poised expression as the staff soften, their fondness for the vibrant young man obvious.

  Who is he? He’s not stupid, he’d picked up on the undercurrent of their conversation and he’s read her more easily than most. It’s easy to underestimate him with his boisterous personality, but he’s a ninja who is at least eighteen or nineteen.

  He’s surely got skill – he wouldn’t be alive if he didn’t, but she can read intelligence behind his bright blue eyes, see it in his body language – always geared to put people at ease.

  They leave as the first class begins to filter into the courtyard. Miyu watches with interest as the small children chatter between each other, bright eyed and innocent in a way that feels very, very far away.

  Had she ever been that small? That clueless and carefree?

  Her earliest memories smell like stale tatami, look like dark nights without electricity or hot water, feel like terror at her very own monster in the next room over.

  Vacant eyes and absent hands and a shogi board on her ceiling.

  “You don’t like children?” Naruto asks, and it’s the softest she’s heard him speak.

  Miyu shrugs, “I don’t have much experience with them. It’s a little daunting.”

  “Nah, I think you’ll be fine. Clan kids are a bit different, they learn to listen and obey from before they can talk most’a the time.”

  She hums in acknowledgement and they continue on their way back to her apartment.

  “Naruto-san,” Miyu decides to speak up, “would you be so kind as to point me towards a florist?”

  “Sure,” he agrees easily, hands behind his head as he looks up at the sky. “There’s this place on the corner, right near a great toxin supplier. Sasuke’s favourite poisons are there, so the owners know me pretty well-”

  He talks and Miyu listens. The information he gives her consists of rather random tidbits – nothing too much, but not coming off as untrusting.

  Clever.

  She wonders absently if one of his parents is a diplomat. It would explain his social adeptness, but not his rather rowdy behaviour.

  “Ya know,” Naruto says as they turn on to the street where he claims the florist to be, “you’re nothing like the rumours made you out to be.”

  “Oh?” She’d almost forgotten. She cocks her head, and hopes her interest isn’t too apparent. Naruto continues walking, peering up at the clouds.

  “Yeah, especially the nastier ones. I’m sure the betting pool is going to be thrown off big time.”

  Nasty?

  She takes the heads up for what it is and keeps walking, waiting patiently for Naruto to continue. When he makes no move to, she decides to risk it.

  “What was the one that made you laugh most?” She keeps her voice perfectly level as she asks.

  There’s a moment of distinctly baffled silence.

  “There’s one that speculates you’re actually Itachi’s betrothed in disguise, and that you were trying to break the engagement by proving his infidelity, but you fell in love instead and now you’re pregnant with the rightful heir and too afraid to confess, and Itachi’s going to run away with you to a secluded-”

  Miyu’s laugh forces its way out of her chest with little warning. She slaps a hand to her mouth, close to tears with the effort it’s taking not to dissolve into helpless giggles.

  Naruto is grinning widely at her, turned so he’s walking backwards. His hands are in his pockets now, and he radiates satisfaction.

  “It’s nice to see you smile for real,” he huffs out a laugh of his own, and rubs at the back of his neck. “Next time don’t hide your laugh. It’s beautiful, believe it.”

  Her face flushes and she looks away from him. He’s too bright, too earnest, and she doesn’t know how to deal with him. Not when the urge to stop hiding herself has stirred and made itself known.

  They arrive at their destination and Naruto slips into the store next door as she enters the florist.

  She surveys the sunflowers and notes that he’s warned her twice now. About the rumours, and about Itachi’s betrothed – who she realises they’ve very carefully never spoken about.

  A razor-sharp blade, disguised by bright colours and loud noises – a ninja trick, obvious and underestimated.

  Still, she doesn’t smile as she picks out four separate arrangements. Konoha may be the safest place for her right now, but that doesn’t mean it’s not without its problems.

  “Beautiful selections,” comments the florist as they wring her order up.

  Miyu smiles politely and says nothing in return. Looking at the flowers hurt, but she makes herself do it anyway. She can’t shy away from her own failures.

  As soon as she steps foot out of the store Naruto is there, pulling three of the four out of her hands with a – “Let me, let me!”

  Miyu gazes down at the one left in her arms. It’s the one intended for Kikyo. Pretty and subtle, full of potential but not bold or gaudy.

  “Naruto-san,” she says softly, “if I could ask just one more favour?”

  .

  Miyu kneels before the shrine, noting that her latest batch of flowers are faring well. It’s been three weeks since she turned to Naruto and asked if Konoha had a place to honour the dead.

  Without comment he led her to the registry office, let her fill out the papers, and then took her to the lot allocated for her in their memorial park.

  The small stone plinth is still unmarked, but it apparently takes a few months for the names to be engraved. Death is common in the Hidden Village, and civilians are at the bottom of the social rankings here. Ninja get first preference, and everyone else is put on a waiting list.

  The stone she’s been allocated is at the edge of the large, well-kept field. It allows her to feel like she has some privacy, even if that’s the farthest thing from the truth in a village like Konoha.

  “I’m home,” she murmurs softly, placing a talisman over Masa’s bouquet.

  She bows low, grass tickling at her nose and forehead, and for long moments she stays that way.

  When she sits up she can pretend the sheen to her eyes and the redness of her nose is hay fever. Never mind that autumn will soon be turning to winter.

  Awkwardly, she clears her throat.

  “I, uh-”

  She sniffles a little, and then laughs when she thinks about Nanami’s disgusted expression the last time Miyu was sick.

  “My class has been good,” she says rather lamely, “I haven’t the faintest why, but they seem eager to impress me. I’ve had to restrict questions to after my lecture, because they ask the strangest things.”

  Teaching classes of four and five-year old children has been a consuming experience. But it keeps her busy, gives her a reason to get up in the morning and force herself to sleep at night.

  “I have a meeting with the bank to discuss my assets this afternoon, so I can’t stay too long,” she murmurs, letting her fingers skim over the petals intended for Mother.

  Itachi is still away, and she wonders when he’ll return. Sakura stops by every couple of days, and the few other times Naruto has dropped by as her chaperone to go sightsee have been like bright spots on a cloudy afternoon.

  “I miss you,” she murmurs, and then bows low again and stands. She turns to leave, and gasps only shallowly at the sight of a familiar figure standing much too close.

  “Gods,” she steps back, hand over her heart, “a little warning would have been appreciated.”

  “Mah, sorry,” Kakashi raises an arm and rubs at the back of his neck. “Forgot.”

  Miyu cocks a brow at him, watching as his eyes take in her pink nose and red-rimmed eyes.

  “Don’t mind me,” she says, sparing him a small smile, “just busy being human over here.”

  His eye crinkles sheepishly, and he shrugs apologetically, “I come with a message.”

  Miyu waits patiently for him to elaborate.

  “Itachi will be back by the week’s end. He wanted me to let you know.”

  Averting her gaze to his vest, Miyu tries to stop her smile.

  “Thank you for passing it on.” She hopes her relief isn’t audible.

  “I… also want to warn you,” Kakashi’s tone draws her eyes back to what little she can see of his face.

  “Is this about the rumours?” she questions dryly, “Because Naruto-san’s already done that.”

  He raises his visible brow and shakes his head.

  “The clans are aware of your presence in Konoha,” he says lightly, as though they’re discussing the weather, “be prepared for a mixed reception, Miyu-san.”

  And then he disappears in a swirl of leaves.

  “Right.” She mutters as she begins the walk home. “Not cryptic at all.”