Miyu enters her apartment, arms laden with presents. One of the instructors had let slip that it's her birthday on Sunday – December seventeenth – and the children had brought her gifts.

  Some of them were obviously hand-made – cards and fans and drawings. Others, gifts from their clans – the Nara boy brings her a board with his clan symbol etched into the base, and a Hyuuga child had brought her a finely crafted hair pin.

  The instructors had arranged for every child from both her four-year-old and five-year-old class to paint a shogi piece or two, and have gifted her a mismatched set of pieces. She sets the presents atop her island bench as she gets to making dinner.

  Once the rice is in the cooker and her miso soup is on the stove, she lets herself go through the gifts. Some clans have sent sweets, others expensive tea, and a merchant child has even brought her a pretty winter-themed ceremonial teacup set.

  But it’s the painted shogi pieces on the standard board that draws her attention most. She walks over to the suspended shelves in the lounge area that line the wall opposite her kitchen. Beside a neat row of books, she sets the gift down, standing up the painted pieces in their allotted squares.

  Then she steps back and takes it in. It looks like a rather colourful piece of art. It makes Miyu think of Nanami’s dresser, topped with silly, cheap festival gifts.

  All placed carefully, and kept with great care. Smiling, she makes a mental note to go indoor plant shopping. Her apartment is gradually looking more lived in, but some greenery will do it good.

  After dinner she showers and decides to read one of the books Naruto’s been bringing past. Most of them have been decent adventure-based stories, but the one she starts on the couch this time is a ninja romance.

  It’s a rather quiet Friday night, but the book makes her laugh for the first few chapters, at least, and she falls asleep with it open in her lap.

  She wakes some time later with a jolt. Wincing around the crick in her neck, Miyu peers around her dim apartment. The lamp in the corner is still on, and she yawns as she gets up to turn it off. When she stands she sees something that makes her pause – and then realise why she woke.

  The painting – of the crow among the cacti – has fallen. She steps closer, peering at it tiredly. The frame is cracked, and the picture is standing, tilted, against the wall. As though its fastenings had all broken all at once.

  She looks back to the wall where it had been hanging, and notices that it’s unblemished. Not a hook or fastener in sight, not even a chip in the paint. What?

  Crouching beside the paining, Miyu tilts it forward to search the back of it for any glue or – oh. It comes back to her in a rush – chakra. Itachi had stuck it to the wall with chakra, of course there’d be no fastenings. For a moment she’s relieved that she figured it out.

  And then she begins to worry. Because it has come unstuck. She doubts it’s from proximity – Itachi’s away on a mission, but he’s been away before. Kneeling on the floor besides the painting, Miyu wracks her brain for everything she can remember about chakra.

  It’s the lifeblood of the ninja arts. Each person has a unique signature and varying quantities of it. It is required when performing techniques, but can also be used to enhance the senses and strengthen the body in general. All living beings have chakra in some form, but it’s ninja, and sometimes samurai, who are trained to use it – and often have pathways better forged from good breeding and early training.

  What would make this chakra disappear?

  There’s definitely a possibility of Itachi being too far away. He’s only been gone a few days this time, but at the speed he can travel he could be halfway across the elemental nations by now.

  He could be using it all in a fight? If that’s how chakra works?

  She exhales sharply as she pushes to her feet.

  There are too many unknowns. If only she’d asked more questions. There’s no excuse not to, she’s been in Konoha for almost two months now. The only other information she knows is that chakra disappears upon death, and that’s not very helpful now-

  Miyu freezes.

  Looks from the painting to her door. Hopes desperately that she’s wrong.

  And then she tears out of her apartment, just remembering to slip on a pair of shoes as she goes. Shit, where should she go? As she rushes down the stairwell she tries to think – what are the places she knows?

  Her workplace won’t be open – it’s – gods, she doesn’t know what time it is, but she guesses the hours between Friday and Saturday. She knows the general location of the Konoha administrative district, but she’s had no reason to go to that part of the village yet. Even if she did manage to find her way there, who would listen?

  She’s painfully aware that she’s a civilian, and that she very well might be raising a false alarm. Naruto has pointed out the location of the Uchiha district half a dozen times, but she doubts she’d be granted entry, and if she by some chance is – how the hell was she going to find either Sasuke or Shisui?

  The answer comes as she makes it to the ground floor.

  There is one place she has memorised along with the clink of shogi tiles and the crushing grief of her first day in Konoha.

  Without another thought, she runs. The streets are empty and quiet, but Miyu doesn’t have time to focus on how eerie it is to see the lively village almost deserted.

  She concentrates instead on the path through the market district, past the park, beside the northern shopping strip.

  Her breath puffs out before her in clouds of white, but she’s not cold. Her blood is surging much too fast for that.

  When she finally finds the right apartment block, she very nearly cries with relief on realising she doesn’t need a key to enter the lobby. She makes for the stairs quickly, climbing them two at a time until she’s on the right level.

  Finally, she’s at the door, and she can’t help the way her fist trembles as she knocks hard.

  The only sound in the dim hallway comes from her – panting hard, shaking enough to set her teeth chattering, banging on the door like a madwoman.

  “Ugh, the fuck did he do now?”

  The sudden grunt startles her badly enough that she falls onto her ass with a yelp.

  “Eh? A civilian?”

  She looks right, and sees a man leaning in the doorway of the next apartment over. His hair is a mess of brown waves, and dark stubble lines his jaw and chin. His green eyeliner is smudged, and he’s peering at her through dark, tired eyes.

  Miyu opens her mouth to speak, to explain herself, to ask for help, to something – but the door before her suddenly swings open.

  “Miyu-san,” Kakashi is standing in the doorway, face mask on but otherwise shirtless and in nothing but boxer shorts, “I suppose you’d like to share why you’re knocking my door down at three-forty-two on a Saturday morning?”

  For a moment her mind blanks.

  “The painting,” she manages to get out around her panic, “it-it fell, and I don’t know why – but it’s – he put it there, and now-”

  “Hold on,” grumbles the neighbour, sighing heavily as he runs a hand down his face, “you came here to talk about a painting? At three-forty-two-am?”

  “It fell,” Miyu’s mouth is trying to catch up with her racing mind, “he stuck it with chakra and it fell!”

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  She turns her gaze back to Kakashi, hoping desperately that he understands. His lone grey eye is taking her in – from her messy untied hair to her home yukata to the mismatched pair of shoes on her feet.

  “So it fell,” sighs the neighbour, “fuck me, civilians-”

  “Who stuck it?” Kakashi’s voice has lost its dryness, and she almost jerks in place at his intensity.

  “Itachi,” she’s breathless as she watches his eye widen briefly, “It happened – oh, I don’t know, about fifteen, twenty minutes ago?”

  The neighbour sighs again and Miyu has to blink back tears of frustration.

  “He stuck it the second day I got here, Kakashi! It – It’s never once budged since, and when it first fell I had forgotten how it stayed in the first place.”

  She’s babbling now, but it’s the only way to get her nearing hysteria under control, “Itachi’s been away so many times since then and it’s never done this, but – and-” it’s getting harder to breathe and her mind keeps showing her the cracked frame, the spotless wall, the absent smile Shisui had given her as he unpacked the bag at her island benchtop-

  “Hey, hey-” the brown-haired man crouches before her, eyes serious and sharp – all tiredness from just moments ago gone. “Breathe. It’s alright.”

  He slants a look at the very still form of Kakashi over his shoulder as Miyu struggles to take in a deep breath, “You’re worried something’s happened to him?”

  Miyu nods, blinking through blurry eyes and willing nothing to fall even though they’re brimming with unshed tears.

  “Something isn’t right,” her voice is too high, “I – I would have waited otherwise, but I couldn’t – Kakashi-san, I didn’t know where else to go, please-”

  “Captain.”

  A tiny squeak makes it out of her at the sudden appearance of a masked figure in the hallway.

  Neither men say anything. Kakashi only makes a series of rapid hand signs that blur before Miyu’s gaze, and then with a pop the figure disappears.

  “Come in.” Kakashi’s tone holds none of his usual teasing. Miyu accepts the extended hand from the neighbour and he pulls her to her feet effortlessly. She’s still trembling, but she can’t tell whether it’s from the cold, or adrenaline, or pure anxiety. Maybe a combination of all three.

  “We’ll know the situation soon,” Kakashi tells her as he sets his kettle on, running a hand through his wild hair. A pang of guilt hits her then as she realises she’s woken him up in the middle of the night.

  “I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she manages to murmur, shivering, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “It’s alright,” Kakashi pads over to his hallway and re-emerges seconds later with a blanket. Ushering Miyu over to the couch, he drapes it about her shoulders and pushes her gently to sit.

  She complies, falling lightly into a spot on the couch beside the sharp-eyed neighbour. Now, with her panic only slightly hindering her, she realises she recognises some of his features.

  “My apologies for the disturbance, Nara-san,” her voice is steady as she says it, and for a brief moment she’s thankful for her own training at the Okiya.

  Composure under duress is a fine skill, Mother had told her over the slim line of her pipe. Miyu’s never forgotten it.

  The man beside her whistles lowly, “Way to make me feel like an asshole. I thought you were Kakashi’s booty call or a scorned lover or something.”

  Miyu blinks at him, even as Kakashi sets another blanket around her shoulders. She thanks him quietly and tries not to think too hard about the fact that no one has told her not to worry about Itachi.

  “Why would that happen?” Miyu asks next, hoping her face doesn’t reflect how troubled she feels. “It falling, I mean? I don’t know enough about chakra to understand.”

  The Nara slants a lazy look at Kakashi before he replies.

  “Could be anything, really. Chakra, applied with a technique and meant for long term use is considered latent. It should be fine under any conditions, in theory.”

  Miyu tries to keep herself composed and hopes they don’t notice how much worse it makes her anxiety.

  “It might be nothing,” Kakashi assures as he pushes a steaming cup of tea into her hands, “but it’s best to be cautious. We’ll have a status report in a few hours.”

  Miyu nods, murmurs her thanks again, and sips at the tea. It burns at her tongue and the roof of her mouth, making her eyes water – but she’s grateful that it grounds her.

  The thought of losing Itachi makes her feel violently ill. Until now, she thought he was safe. He’s a ninja from a prominent clan, and from what she’s gathered he’s strong. Part of her had trusted that he would be a constant, a person in her life that wouldn’t disappear or die.

  Swallowing down more of the too-hot tea, she wants to kick herself for her na?veté. He’s ninja. Their lives burn hot and bright, but often short. How could she have been so stupid?

  “You’re that shogi player, right?”

  The neighbour’s voice pulls her from her thoughts. Miyu nods silently.

  “Ah, knew I remembered your face. Great performance at the Fire Festival, by the way. Your game with Makishima was brilliant.”

  Miyu stiffens at the mention of that day.

  “And you really put our esteemed Daimyo on show. I was laughing my ass off the whole time.”

  The admission makes her pause.

  “Laughing?” She’s glad her voice doesn’t tremble.

  “Yeah, it was hilarious to see you dress him down, posturing and all,” he says it with an easy grin that doesn’t sit well with her own memories of that day.

  “I overstepped,” her voice is quieter than she meant it to be, “I should have shut my mouth.”

  “Nah,” the Nara stretches, and then lets his head fall back against the couch, “you’ve got backbone. We ninja respect that.”

  “I made him look weak before foreign dignitaries,” she says, frowning down at her teacup.

  “He is weak,” the man scoffs, “and stupid as hell. You handled it well.”

  Miyu keeps her eyes on her tea.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs after a moment of silence.

  “Anytime, uh- Miyu-san, was it?”

  At that she looks up, “My apologies, I’ve been terribly rude. I’m Sugawara Miyu, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  She offers him a half-bow and a polite smile.

  He blinks his tired eyes at her for a moment before he sighs.

  “Nara Ensui. Nice to meet you too, though the circumstances could be better.”

  Miyu looks back down at her tea again.

  “This may sound terrible,” she murmurs, seeing Kakashi take his seat in the armchair to her left in the corner of her eye, “but I hope I’m wasting your time. I hope this is nothing, and that you’ll nickname me painting lady and laugh about me knocking at your door at a ridiculous hour and-”

  Miyu cuts herself off and takes another sip of tea.

  “Me too,” Kakashi says in his low, deep voice, and she finally turns her head to look at him.

  He’s put on a pair of track pants and a shirt, but without his headband he just keeps his left eye closed. From her spot on the couch, she can see the scar that slashes through his eyebrow, down his eyelid – ending somewhere beneath his face mask.

  “I suppose the only thing to do now is wait,” Ensui sighs, shutting his eyes.

  Miyu sips at her tea and tries not to fidget. The thought of trying to sleep now is laughable.

  “Miyu-san,” Kakashi stands and walks to his bookshelf wall, “would you be interested in a game?”

  When she looks up he’s holding a shogi set that she hadn’t noticed before. Relieved, and hoping it doesn’t show on her face, she nods. She sets her cup on the coffee table and sits seiza on the floor before it. Kakashi sets the board and the bag of tiles before her and she unpacks, body going through the motions effortlessly.

  Kakashi sits on the other side of the table, completely unformal – on his ass with his arm resting on a raised knee.

  They play.

  Miyu is grateful for the distraction, short as it ends up being.

  She watches Kakashi’s face as he gives the board a slow blink.

  “Did you really think you’d beat her, Kakashi?” Ensui questions amusedly.

  “No,” he responds flatly, “I just didn’t expect to only last twenty-six minutes.”

  Ensui snorts at that, and Miyu finds her own lips quirking.

  “How about a simultaneous?” Ensui yawns, and with a small pop there’s another shogi board on the coffee table. Miyu cocks her head and looks to Kakashi, brows pinched.

  “Do all ninja carry shogi sets on them? Shikamaru-sama had three.”

  Kakashi’s the one laughing now, and when her gaze lands on Ensui she’s surprised to see the faintest blush across his cheekbones.

  “No,” Kakashi runs a hand through his hair, “it’s not a ninja thing. More of a Nara quirk than anything.”

  “Shut up,” grumbles Ensui, taking a seat at the end of the coffee table.

  “Do you mind?” he asks Miyu, gesturing to the pouch of tiles. She shakes her head, and he begins to unpack with deft fingers.

  Kakashi makes a hand sign and with a pop there’s suddenly another Kakashi standing beside the coffee table. Miyu watches as the other Kakashi collects their mugs, walks to the kitchen, and sets about making more tea.

  Ninja, she thinks exasperatedly.

  When she returns her attention to the coffee table, both boards have been set up. She makes a few adjustments to her openings and offers her opponents a shallow bow.

  “Let’s play.”

  They get twenty minutes into the game, Miyu just about to close in on Kakashi again, when both ninja suddenly stiffen. Miyu’s head snaps to Ensui as he mutters, “Shit.”

  Kakashi disappears from the room, and in the time it takes Miyu to push to her feet and turn to Ensui, he reappears. He’s decked out in all black gear, with grey body armour that she recognises Itachi as having donned before.

  “What’s going on?” she asks, voice much steadier than she feels.

  “Classified,” Kakashi says shortly, slipping on his forehead protector and slanting Ensui a meaningful look. And then he disappears without a sound.

  Miyu stands for a moment in the silence of his absence, and thinks, gods, I was right.

  “Hey,” Ensui is standing now, and one of his calloused hands closes over her own. “Kakashi is part of a retrieval squad. That’s all I can tell you.”

  Miyu fights the tremble to her lip as she meets Ensui’s dark, sharp gaze.

  “I wanted to be wrong,” her breath hitches and his face blurs before her watery eyes. “Ensui-san, I wanted to be wrong-”

  “I know,” he says gravely, seizing her other hand softly, “we must trust in the retrieval team now, and in Itachi’s own abilities.”

  Miyu wants to. But the part of her brain that calculates and strategises is screaming for more information, better odds, anything that would help her figure out the final outcome.

  “I’ll take you home,” Ensui steps forward and Miyu lets him pick her up, murmuring her address as he does. He jumps from rooftop to rooftop at a reasonable pace, clearing the trip that took her twenty frantic minutes of running in only five.

  The Nara sets her on her balcony, and she takes a seat on her cold bench, trying to ground herself.

  “Listen,” Ensui is crouched on her balcony railing, “Itachi is one of Konoha’s best. So is Kakashi and the rest of the retrieval squad. You raised an early alarm, if anything is wrong, we’ve taken action early. You took the best possible course of action, Miyu-san.”

  She presses her lips together and looks up at him.

  “Thank you for your kindness tonight, Nara-san,” her voice is level as she bows to him.

  For a moment he just stares at her, eyes shrouded in shadow.

  “Try and get some sleep.”

  And then he’s gone.