Chapter Text
The heat sat low over Konoha, heavy but lazy, the kind that made even chakra feel slow.
Sasuke landed soundlessly on the tiled edge of a roof, knees bending out of habit more than need. From up here, the village looked almost peaceful – laundry lines strung between balconies, the distant clang of a smith’s hammer, laughter drifting from somewhere he couldn’t see.
He adjusted the sleeve band marking him as the Police Force, irritation flickering briefly at the way it stuck to his arm.
“Patrol sector three, west alley clear,” he said, tapping the communicator at his collar. “No disturbances.”
A pause.
“Copy,” came the reply. “You’re good for another–”
The voice cut off.
Sasuke frowned. He straightened, senses stretching automatically–
–and felt it.
A presence, close enough to brush the edge of his awareness. Not hostile. Not loud.
Familiar.
He turned just as a pair of arms hooked loosely around his neck from behind, chin resting on his shoulder with infuriating ease.
“Wrong,” Akira said quietly. “You’re done.”
Sasuke stiffened for exactly half a second before relaxing with a soft exhale.
“You’re going to get yourself arrested one of these days,” he muttered. “Sneaking up on an officer.”
She hummed. “You didn’t react fast enough. That’s on you.”
He reached up, prying one of her arms away. “I knew it was you.”
“Mm,” she said, unconvinced. “You knew someone was there.”
He glanced back at her over his shoulder. She wasn’t wearing an ANBU uniform – civilian clothes today, dark fabric, dark hair framing her thin face loosely. She looked almost… normal. Which somehow felt stranger than blood and shadows ever had.
He frowned. “How long have you been there?”
Akira tilted her head, eyes thoughtful. “Long enough to hear dispatch forget to tell you your shift ended twelve minutes ago.”
He blinked. Then frowned harder. “That’s not–” Sasuke stared at her.
“…Twelve?” he repeated.
“Twelve,” she confirmed. “You’re off duty, Officer Uchiha.”
She stepped back, hands behind her back now, rocking slightly on her heels. Amused. Soft.
Free.
He clicked the device off, annoyance melting into something reluctant and warmer. “You could’ve just told me.”
“And miss the look on your face?” She smiled. “Never.”
He scoffed, hopping down from the roof to the street below. She followed without a sound, landing beside him instead of behind this time.
“So,” Akira said, stretching her arms above her head. “Drinks?”
He shot her a look. “It’s barely afternoon.”
“And it’s hot,” she replied. “And you’re off duty. And I haven’t eaten since–” she paused, thinking, “ –actually, that part’s irrelevant.”
He started walking. She fell into step without being invited.
”You don’t know when was the last time you’ve eaten something and you wanna drink?”
She just hummed in response.
“You’re paying,” he said with a sigh.
She grinned. “Obviously.”
They passed through the streets together, the village alive around them. No one stared. No whispers. Just two people weaving through the crowd.
At the door of a small bar tucked between shops, Sasuke hesitated.
“…You didn’t have to come get me,” he said, quieter now.
Akira glanced at him, expression unreadable for a beat – then she nudged his shoulder with hers.
“I wanted to,” she said simply. “You’re not on a leash anymore, Sasuke. You don’t have to stay just because no one told you to leave.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Still learning that.”
She pushed the door open, warm air and chatter spilling out.
“Good,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m terrible at patience. You’ll slow me down.”
He followed her inside, shaking his head. “Pretty sure it’s the other way around.”
Her laughter carried ahead of him – light and unguarded.
The bar was dim and cool, blessedly removed from the sun. Wooden floors creaked softly underfoot, and the low murmur of conversation settled around them like a second skin.
Akira claimed a stool at the counter and spun it once before sitting, casual to the point of laziness. Sasuke took the one beside her, resting an elbow on the bar.
“Two,” she told the bartender. “Cold.”
The man glanced at Sasuke’s police band, then back at her. His eyes flicked – not even to her unusual eyes, but to the way she stood, the stillness beneath the ease., born from years of experience.
“Coming right up,” he said, a little quicker than necessary.
Sasuke noticed.
Of course he did.
When the drinks arrived, he took his with a quiet sip, eyes sliding sideways. “You didn’t tell me you were back.”
Akira clinked her glass lightly against his before drinking. “If I did, it wouldn’t count as surprising you.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She watched the condensation trail down her glass. “I was out of the village.”
He paused. Then: “You weren’t supposed to be.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t supposed to be loud about it.”
Sasuke exhaled through his nose. “Solo?”
She smiled without looking at him. “When am I not?”
That earned her a look. “You’re impossible.”
“Efficient,” she corrected. “There’s a difference.”
He took another sip, slower this time. “How bad was it?”
Akira considered. Not dramatically. Like she was choosing between answers at a menu.
“Swamp,” she said. “Poisoned fog. Traps layered over old seals. Someone tried to make it look abandoned.”
“And you hate swamps,” he said flatly.
She glanced at him, eyebrow lifting. “You remember that?”
“You complain every time.”
“I complain strategically.”
He snorted despite himself.
“So what,” he said. “You dismantle it, burn the place down, walk back in time for drinks?”
“Please,” she said. “I had to walk halfway because someone thought flooding the exit was clever.”
He tilted his head. “Someone?”
Akira took another drink. “Very someone.”
There was a beat of silence, his eyes tracing her face and posture.
Then Sasuke frowned. “You’re bleeding.”
She looked down at her sleeve, where a faint, dark line had soaked through near the cuff.
“…That’s new,” she admitted.
He reached out on instinct, fingers brushing her wrist. She didn’t pull away.
“You’re reckless,” he muttered.
She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “And yet, you still let me sneak up on you.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
He didn’t answer. Just tightened his grip briefly, then let go.
“So,” she said, brightening instantly, like nothing had happened. “How was patrol?”
He stared at her. “You probably almost died and you want to talk about my patrol?”
She smiled sweetly. “Did anyone steal anything?”
“No.”
“Any riots?”
“No.”
“See?” She took another sip. “Successful mission.”
He shook his head. “You’re not normal.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
She grinned. “I’ll take it anyway.”
They drank in companionable quiet for a moment. Outside, the afternoon hummed on, unaware of masks or missions or reputations written in ink and blood.
Akira leaned her head lightly against his shoulder.
“You’re doing good work,” she said, softer now. “Even if they don’t tell you.”
He swallowed, eyes forward. “You don’t have to say that.”
“I know,” she replied. “I wanted to.”
He glanced at her, then away again, ears faintly red.
“…You’re still paying,” he said.
She laughed quietly. “Obviously.”
The bartender returned to wipe down the counter a little too thoroughly, glancing at Akira once, then deliberately not again.
Sasuke noticed the way his hand hesitated near her glass.
“…You’re staring,” Sasuke said flatly.
The bartender flinched. “Just – uh – making sure everything’s alright.”
Akira tilted her head, polite. “It is.”
The man nodded quickly and retreated.
Sasuke waited until he was out of earshot before leaning closer. “You keep scaring people.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
She huffed, resting her chin in her palm. “That’s rude.”
“You’re literally in the Bingo Book, since you were, like, nine.” he added, deadpan.
She froze. Slowly, she turned to look at him.
He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t know?”
“Of course I knew,” she said defensively. “I just didn’t think most civilians–”
“Most of them don’t,” he cut in. “He’s a retired shinobi. Missing two fingers. Bad knee.”
She glanced towards the back room. “…Ah.”
A beat passed.
Then she groaned softly and slid down against the counter, forehead resting on her arm. “I told Tsunade to redact the epithet ages ago.”
Sasuke blinked. “The what?”
She peeked at him through her fingers. “They don’t just list you. They give you a title.”
He smiled despite himself. “Of course they do.”
“Don’t. Say it.”
He leaned back, clearly enjoying this now. “Hebi no Kokyū.”
She made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “I hate it.”
“It’s kind of cool.”
“It makes me sound like I slither.”
“You do move weirdly quiet.”
She lifted her head just enough to glare at him. “Say that again.”
He smirked. “See? Terrifying.”
She reached over and flicked his forehead with two fingers – light, precise.
“Careful,” she said. “I’m very dangerous.”
“I’ve seen you trip over your own boots.”
“That was one time.”
“You apologized to a chair.”
“It startled me.”
He laughed – actually laughed – and she watched him like it was a personal victory.
“Relax,” he said, calmer now. “If they’re scared, that’s their problem. You’re just… you.”
Her expression softened at that, something unguarded passing through her eyes before she masked it with a shrug.
“Don’t tell anyone I said this,” she murmured, lifting her glass again, “but I prefer this.”
“This?” he asked.
She gestured vaguely between them. The bar. The drinks. The ordinary.
“Being off the page,” she said.
He clinked his glass against hers again. “Yeah.”
They drank.
Outside, the sun dipped lower, and for a little while longer, the world stayed quiet enough to let them pretend it always could.
The glasses sat half-empty between them, condensation pooling on the wood.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
Sasuke cleared his throat.
“By the way,” he said casually, too casually, eyes fixed on his drink, “you should prepare yourself.”
Akira glanced at him. “For what?”
“A party.”
She blinked. “…A what.”
“A party,” he repeated. “For your birthday.”
She took another sip. And immediately choked.
Sasuke slid her glass away before she could knock it over, patting her once between the shoulder blades with the detached efficiency of someone who had absolutely enjoyed this moment.
“Breathe,” he said. “I need you alive for it.”
She coughed, glaring at him through watery eyes. “You – you could’ve warned me.”
“I am warning you,” he said. “This is me being merciful.”
She finally caught her breath and stared at him. “Who.”
His mouth twitched. “My mother.”
Her expression went blank.
“…And Kushina-san,” he added, like a finishing blow.
Akira slowly set her elbows on the counter and lowered her forehead onto her folded arms.
“…No,” she said weakly. “No, no, no.”
“They’re planning something big,” Sasuke continued. “I don’t know what. I stopped asking questions for my own safety.”
She lifted her head just enough to look at him. “Why are you telling me this now?”
He shrugged. “Pity.”
She squinted. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I suffered,” he corrected. “A few weeks ago, for my first big promotion and birthday. Sadly you were away on your mission. This is called passing on wisdom.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What did they do to you?”
He stared straight ahead. “Banners.”
She gasped. “Inside the house?”
“Outside,” he said flatly. “Across the street.”
She slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. “I’m so sorry.”
“There was a cake shaped like the Uchiha fan.”
She winced. “That’s… actually kind of impressive.”
“It was red,” he added. “They used strawberries.”
She laughed despite herself, then stopped abruptly.
“…I’ve never had a party like that,” she said more quietly.
Sasuke glanced at her, then away again. “Exactly.”
She tilted her head. “What about… my family?”
He snorted. “You think that feral woman forgot about them?”
She frowned. “Sasuke.”
“Kushina pulled them into it,” he said. “Physically. I’m pretty sure Ren tried to escape.”
Akira stared at him. “You’re joking.”
“I watched Uzumaki Kushina drag a grown man by the sleeve while smiling,” he said solemnly. “There was no resistance.”
She laughed, full and startled, hand over her mouth like she couldn’t quite believe it.
“I don’t even know what to do at parties,” she admitted.
“You stand there,” Sasuke said with a face of a veteran, even though it was his first party like that too. “People talk to you. Someone cries. There’s too much food.”
“…Someone cries?”
“Always,” he nodded. “Usually my mother. Kushina-san just laughs.”
Akira groaned and dropped her head back against the counter. “I should go on a mission again.”
“Too late,” he said. “They’ve probably accounted for that.”
She peeked at him. “How did you survive?”
He met her eyes and smirked.
“Barely,” he said. “But I’m stronger now.”
She laughed again, shaking her head.
“Fine,” she sighed. “But if there are banners–”
“There will be banners.”
“ –I’m blaming you.”
“Fair,” he said. “I’ll be hiding.”
They clinked their glasses one more time, the threat of impending celebration hanging over them like a shared, ridiculous doom – and somehow, that made it easier.
Not heavy.
Just inevitable.
……………………………………………………………………………………………….
The evening air was cooler, washed in orange and violet as the sun dipped behind the Hokage Monument. Lanterns were beginning to glow along the streets, soft halos reflected in shop windows.
Akira stumbled exactly half a step as they exited the bar.
Sasuke caught her elbow without even looking at her. “Careful.”
“I am perfectly coordinated,” she said, leaning slightly more of her weight into him than necessary. “The ground moved.”
“It always does around you.”
She hummed, pleased, and straightened – mostly. They walked side by side down the street, their steps not quite in sync, shoulders brushing now and then.
Sasuke exhaled. “You’re tipsy.”
“I am relaxed,” she corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“You tried to salute the bartender.”
“He earned it.”
They passed a group of academy students darting by, laughter trailing behind them. Akira watched them for a moment, fond and distant, before turning her head back towards Sasuke.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I’ve decided something.”
He eyed her warily. “I don’t like when you say that.”
“I will not die,” she continued, hands on her hips, face very serious, “until Naruto and you get together.”
He stopped walking.
She took two more steps before realizing he wasn’t beside her anymore, then turned, blinking.
“…Why are you looking at me like that?”
Sasuke’s ears were already red. “What.”
“You heard me.”
“I absolutely did not.”
She smiled, slow and delighted. “Oh, you did. You just don’t want to acknowledge it.”
He resumed walking with stiff determination. “That’s not funny.”
Akira jogged a step to catch up, grinning. “It is a little funny.”
“There is nothing–”
“Oh come on, the chemistry between you two?” she interrupted lightly and made a chef’s kiss. “Explosive chemistry. Very dramatic. Lots of shouting. Lingering looks.”
“There are no lingering looks.”
“Don’t be stupid. Just a few days ago there was that one time during training when you stared at him for, what, ten seconds?”
“I was assessing his form.”
“Especially the chest and lower area, huh?”
He groaned, covering his face with his hands. “You’re drunk.”
“Tipsy,” she echoed his words from earlier. “And observant.”
They turned onto a quieter street, cicadas humming in the trees overhead. The sky was deepening now, stars just beginning to prick through.
“You argue like an old married couple,” she continued pleasantly. “You chase each other across rooftops. You’re weirdly codependent. You’d absolutely die for him.”
“I would die for you too.” Sasuke said flatly.
“You tried to punch him for flirting with someone else once.”
“That was unrelated. He was making a fool out of himself.”
She laughed, bumping her shoulder into his. “I’m just saying. If it ever happens, I want credit.”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“Mm-hm.”
He shot her a glare. “Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“That sound.”
She clasped her hands behind her back, rocking slightly as she walked. “Look, I just think it’s comforting. Gives me something to think about when I’m dying on a mission somewhere. Very motivating.”
“You’re basing your survival on a relationship from your delusions.”
“Yes,” she said calmly. “Between you and Naruto.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “I regret buying you drinks.”
“You didn’t,” she reminded him cheerfully. “I did.”
“That makes it worse.”
They reached a small bridge, lantern light shimmering on the water below. Akira leaned on the railing, peering down.
“For the record,” she added, glancing back at him, “I think he’d be very good for you.”
Sasuke opened his mouth, then stopped. Closed it again.
“…You’re impossible,” he said finally.
She smiled, soft this time. “You love me.”
He scoffed. “Don’t push it.”
They stood there for a moment, side by side, the village settling into night around them. Then Akira pushed off the railing and stretched.
“Come on,” she said. “Walk me home, Officer.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You can handle yourself.”
“True,” she agreed. “But I might keep talking.”
He sighed, already turning with her. “That’s a threat.”
She grinned, slipping her arm through his.
“Exactly.”
………………………………………………………………………………
Lantern light stretched their shadows long across the street.
Akira was laughing – the quiet, breathless kind – her arm slung comfortably over Sasuke’s shoulders. Sasuke had one arm loosely around her back, steering them both down the road with the resigned patience of someone who had long accepted this was his life now.
“…I’m just saying,” Akira giggled, “if you accidentally trip Naruto during sparring and he lands on top of you–”
“That is not an accident.” Sasuke muttered.
“You can’t prove intent.”
“I absolutely–”
“ –wow,” Shisui’s voice cut in pleasantly, right behind them. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was a habit.”
Sasuke stiffened.
Akira didn’t even flinch. She just leaned back a little more into Sasuke and smiled over her shoulder. “Oh. You found us.”
Itachi stepped into view beside Shisui, eyes flicking once – once – to the way their arms were looped together.
“…You’re attached.” he observed.
“We’re walking.” Sasuke said quickly.
“Glued to eachother,” Shisui added.
“Laughing.” Itachi finished.
Akira beamed. “Bonding.”
Shisui squinted at Sasuke. “You look like you’ve been kidnapped.”
Sasuke sighed. “This again.”
Akira squeezed his shoulder affectionately. “He came willingly.”
“I was ambushed.”
“You were lured,” she corrected. “With drinks.”
Shisui laughed. “Classic.”
Itachi tilted his head slightly. “You’re both drunk.”
“Tipsy.” Akira and Sasuke said at the exact same time.
They looked at each other.
Sasuke scowled. “Don’t copy me.”
She grinned. “Don’t be predictable.”
Shisui folded his arms, watching them with open skepticism. “How long has this been going on?”
“What, this?” Akira gestured vaguely between herself and Sasuke, nearly losing her balance from the sudden motion. Sasuke tightened his hold automatically, keepig her up.
“Since forever,” she added cheerfully.
“Unfortunately,” Sasuke muttered.
Itachi’s gaze softened just a fraction. “You’re louder than usual.”
Akira gasped. “Rude.”
“Akira, you’re giggling.” Shisui said, looking almost horrified.
“That’s because,” she leaned in conspiratorially, “he told me something very tragic.”
Sasuke’s eyes widened. “Do not.”
“Oh,” she absolutely did, although her words slurred a little. “There’s a party.”
Silence. Itachi’s eyebrow rose.
Shisui pinched the bridge of his nose. “You told her?”
“She deserved to know!” Sasuke protested. “I’m saving her from the fate you gave me.”
“That was a celebration,” Shisui said defensively.
“You hung banners across the street,” Sasuke shot back.
“They were festive.”
“There were balloons.”
Akira laughed so hard she had to grab Itachi’s sleeve to stay upright. He glanced down at her hand, then – after a beat – didn’t move away.
“Wait,” she said, eyes bright. “There were balloons too?”
Shisui groaned. “Why is she so excited…”
“I’m not excited,” she said. “I’m terrified. But now I’m curious.”
Sasuke pointed at Shisui. “He let Kushina-san plan it.”
“That woman is unstoppable,” Shisui said weakly. “I tried to reason with her. Sasuke, I already feel bad for you.”
If looks could kill, Shisui would be laying on the ground now. ”What. Do you. Mean.”
Shisui grinned, absolutely enjoying it. ”Well, if I had a mother-in-law like that–”
He felt the impact before he registered it – Sasuke’s heel stomped on his shoe with a sudden force.
“Ow–!”
”It really was futile.” Itachi nodded, ignoring his little brother’s violence.
Akira looked up at him, eyes shining. “You knew and didn’t warn me?”
“I assumed Sasuke would.” he replied calmly.
Sasuke stared at him. “Traitor.”
Akira leaned closer to Itachi, lowering her voice. “If there are banners, I’m blaming all of you.”
“That’s fair.” Itachi said.
Shisui blinked. “Why does he get blamed?”
“Because,” Akira said sweetly, “he looks like he’d apologize.”
Itachi just smiled, his eyes crinkling.
Shisui threw his hands up. “This is ridiculous. You two,” he pointed at Akira and Sasuke, “are entirely too comfortable.”
Akira looped her arm back around Sasuke’s shoulders, smug. “You’re just jealous.”
“Of this?” Shisui laughed. “Please.”
Sasuke muttered, “You’re never letting go, are you.”
“Nope,” she said happily. “You’re my emotional support Uchiha.”
Itachi watched them for a moment longer than necessary before speaking.
“…Walk her home.” he said to Sasuke.
Sasuke nodded. “I was going to.”
Akira glanced between the two older boys, smile softening. “I hope you’ll both be there, by the way.”
“At the party?” Shisui asked.
“At my inevitable suffering,” she replied.
Shisui laughed. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Itachi inclined his head. “Neither would I.”
Akira squeezed Sasuke’s shoulder. “Good. Now lead the way, Kiseichu.”
Sasuke sighed, but there was no real complaint in it as they continued down the lantern-lit street – four shadows stretching together, familiar and ridiculous.
……………………………………………………………………………………….
The training yard behind the Police headquarters was unusually quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across packed earth and stone. Akira sat cross-legged on a low wall, mask resting beside her like an afterthought. She was peeling the paper from a stick of dango with slow, deliberate focus.
Shisui stood a few meters away, hands on his hips, watching a Rapid Response squad reset their formation.
“No.” he called calmly. “Again. Faster. If you hesitate there, someone gets hurt.”
The squad scattered to reposition.
Akira bit into her dango. “You’re scaring them.”
Shisui glanced back at her, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Good.”
She hummed. “They’ll love that in their performance review.”
“They’ll survive.” he said, walking over. “Like we did.”
She smiled at him, soft and familiar. “Barely.”
He stopped in front of her, reaching out without asking to tug a loose thread from her glove. His fingers lingered a second longer than necessary.
“You’re injured.” he said.
“It’s old.”
“Still sore.”
She shrugged. “You should see the other guy.”
“I don’t need to.” he replied easily. “I know your moves.”
She laughed, tipping forward slightly, her knee brushing his thigh. He didn’t move away.
From the edge of the yard, Itachi approached, scroll tucked under one arm, expression neutral in that way that fooled absolutely no one who knew him.
“You’re late.” Akira said without looking.
“You said ‘around four.’” Itachi replied.
“It’s past four.”
He inclined his head. “Barely.”
She leaned back on her palms and looked up at him. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Yes.”
Shisui raised a brow. “That sounds ominous.”
“It was procedural,” Itachi said. “Mostly.”
Akira grimaced. “That’s worse.”
He handed her the scroll instead of explaining. She took it, their fingers brushing – brief, precise – but she felt it anyway.
She always did.
“You’re still running solo.” Itachi said quietly.
She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over this years ago.”
“It increases risk.”
“So does boredom.”
“She hates cooperating with others.” Shisui snorted.
“I’ve noticed,” Itachi replied, eyes still on Akira.
”Akira, why don’t you wanna be a captain? You were first proposed almost five years ago. Soon Tsunade will get bored of asking.”
Akira shrugged. ”I like doing missions alone.”
Her gaze drifted to Itachi, whose eyes were still on her. She tilted her head to the side, studying him. “You’re worried.”
“I’m observant.”
“Same thing,” she said.
Shisui crossed his arms. “You’re both exhausting.”
Akira grinned and hopped down from the wall, landing between them with practiced ease. “You love us.”
“Regrettably,” Shisui said.
She reached up and straightened his collar, fingers deft. “You’d be lost without me.”
“True,” he admitted. “But I’d sleep more.”
She laughed and then turned, stepping closer to Itachi now. “And you?”
He met her gaze evenly. “You complicate my reports.”
She smiled, softer this time. “That’s almost romantic.”
Shisui made a face. “Please don’t flirt in front of superiors.”
“There are no superiors here,” Akira said. “Just you.”
Itachi’s eyes flicked briefly to Shisui. Shisui noticed.
So did Akira.
“Anyway,” she continued lightly, “Tomorrow’s my execution, isn’t it?.”
Shisui groaned. “Sasuke keeps blabbing about it?”
“He tells me everything,” she said smugly.
“You’re both impossible.” Shisui muttered.
She leaned towards him, lowering her voice jokingly. “You love it.”
He smiled, fond and helpless. “I really do.”
Itachi watched the exchange, something unreadable passing through his expression before smoothing out again.
“You should rest before it then,” he said to Akira. “You’ve been sent out too often lately.”
She looked at him, really looked – the concern he rarely voiced, the way he always noticed the smallest things.
“…You’re sweet,” she said.
He blinked once.
Shisui snorted. “She’s drunk even on dango now?”
She elbowed him. “Jealous.”
“Of him?” Shisui asked, amused.
“Of me,” she corrected.
They stood there for a moment – close, easy, unguarded – the air between the three of them warm with familiarity and something unspoken.
Shisui clapped his hands once. “Alright. I’ve got a squad to terrify.”
He started to walk off, then paused, glancing back at Akira. “Don’t disappear.”
She smiled. “I won’t.”
His gaze flicked briefly to Itachi before he left.
Akira let out a long sigh, scooped up her mask, and tucked it under her arm.
“I’ll get going too,” she said lightly, already retreating. ”I need to prepare myself for tomorrow.”
Itachi smiled at her gently with a slight tilt of his head. ”You do know that Sasuke’s exaggerating, don’t you?”
”So there won’t be any balloons?”Akira let out a dramatic sigh, putting her hand to her chest. ”Alright, I need to write a report. See you later.”
As she was walking past Itachi, she rubbed his shoulder as a goodbye. His eyes lingered on the spot she’d touched for a moment.
Shisui, across the yard, glanced back once more.
Neither said anything.
Neither needed to.