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A few days later.
"Itachi!"
Izumi ran to the doorstep of Itachi's house, greeting him warmly.
Thanks to the incident with Kagaya, Izumi finally had a chance to see Itachi. Normally, as an Anbu, Itachi was hard to meet.
"Ah, it's you, Izumi," Itachi replied with a gentle smile, nodding at her. After Shisui's death and Kagaya's defection, in the vastness of Konoha, only his parents, Sasuke, and this girl before him could bring a sliver of warmth to his heart.
"Want to go eat tri-colored dango together today?"
"Well, uh, maybe nex—"
Itachi hesitated. He wanted to say "next time" and dedicate all his time to resolving the conflict between Konoha and the Uchiha. He was desperate to find a way to fix this rift. But the words caught in his throat. After spending a few days with Izumi, he had tasted a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time.
Both Konoha's leadership and the Uchiha's elders were so cold. Itachi had forced himself to become a machine, a tool to protect the village, devoid of emotion, like a block of ice.
But after experiencing that warmth, he felt human again. He couldn't bear to reject it—truly couldn't bear it.
Yet, Konoha and the Uchiha needed him.
With that thought, Itachi suppressed the longing in his eyes and smiled faintly, as if he didn't care.
"Izumi, I've got things to do. Next time, okay?"
"I-Is that so? But, Itachi…"
Izumi looked at him hesitantly. If Itachi had outright rejected her invitation, she wouldn't have pressed further. But she had clearly seen the fleeting spark of yearning in his eyes.
Izumi wasn't a foolish girl. She could guess that Itachi was likely suppressing his emotions for something he felt he had to do. That realization made her heart ache. She didn't want Itachi to force himself into things that went against his heart. She wanted him to live happily, like when they were kids— a genius, yes, but carefree, even a little shy at times.
"Alright… okay," Izumi said finally, not pushing him. Itachi was already under so much pressure, and she didn't dare add to his burdens.
She knew they weren't children anymore.
"Go, Itachi!" a voice suddenly called from behind Itachi. It was Uchiha Fugaku.
Fugaku looked at Itachi sternly.
"Go. Don't spend all your time on Anbu missions. There aren't that many missions."
As the Uchiha clan leader, Fugaku knew how much both the Uchiha and Konoha needed Itachi. Yet, his heart softened.
Itachi was his son, after all.
'Go, have some fun. I can't even give my son a single day to enjoy himself?' Fugaku thought, his heart aching.
But his face remained cold as he spoke.
"This is an order from your father and the Uchiha clan leader. You don't need to do any missions today. Understood?!"
Itachi's brow furrowed slightly.
"But, Father—"
"Understood?!" Fugaku cut him off firmly.
'Go, go. You've already done so much, Itachi. One day isn't much. Go!'
Itachi still hesitated.
"Father, I think—"
"Can't you understand me? No missions today. This is the last time I'm saying it. Understood?!"
Fugaku interrupted again.
Itachi opened his mouth, as if to argue, but seeing the sternness in Fugaku's eyes, he relented. He nodded.
"Understood."
Deep in his eyes, a trace of irrepressible emotion flickered. How could Itachi not understand his father's intentions?
But in these times, as the Uchiha clan leader, Fugaku had to wear a mask. As an Anbu, Itachi had to do the same.
Itachi wanted to dedicate himself to the Uchiha and the village for his father's sake and the clan's sake. Fugaku, in turn, wanted his son to retain some happiness, to not become an emotionless ninja.
Both father and son were thinking of each other, yet their exchange felt like an argument, their emotions buried deep. This era was undeniably cruel to them.
Soon, Itachi and Izumi left together.
Fugaku stood in the courtyard, lost in thought.
"They're gone. That's nice," Uchiha Mikoto said, stepping out from behind Fugaku with a smile, looking in the direction Itachi and Izumi had gone.
Fugaku glanced at Mikoto, sighing with a hint of guilt.
"Itachi's carrying too much. As his father, I've failed him."
Mikoto gave Fugaku a gentle smile.
"You and Itachi are the same. I know you're both doing your best. I understand. If anything, I'm the one who's useless here."
A faint smile appeared on Fugaku's face. He turned and walked back into the house.
"Don't talk nonsense."
In the oppressive conflict between the clan and the village, everyone involved needed comfort. Itachi couldn't bear to abandon the warmth Izumi gave him, just as Fugaku couldn't abandon the warmth Mikoto offered.
This village was too cold for the Uchiha. They needed to cling to some warmth to keep from breaking.
---
By the riverside.
Izumi and Itachi sat on a bridge, eating the tri-colored dango they'd bought.
"Itachi, you've awakened the same eyes as me, haven't you?" Izumi asked suddenly, mid-bite.
As children, they had once sat here together.
Back then, Izumi had naively assumed a genius like Itachi wouldn't like dango. Feeling a bit pitiful, she'd withdrawn the dango she'd offered to share with him and started eating alone, only to notice Itachi staring at her, clearly craving it.
That was when Izumi learned Itachi loved tri-colored dango too.
To apologize, she'd promised to give him a gift.
At the time, Itachi had looked at Izumi's eyes—her three-tomoe Sharingan, awakened after her parents' deaths during the Nine-Tails incident. Itachi, who had just awakened his own Sharingan, understood the pain of that awakening. Perhaps he had only felt sympathy for her.
But Izumi thought he wanted her eyes. Lowering her head, she'd said sadly, "Sorry, I can't give you these."
Now, asking if Itachi had the same eyes, Izumi had one goal in mind.
Itachi paused, then answered, "Yes."
"It must have hurt, right? I understand," Izumi said with pity, wanting to comfort him. For some reason, she felt Itachi's life was filled with suffering.
Itachi was silent for a long time before responding faintly, "Yes, it hurt."
Those simple words carried untold pain.
Izumi smiled softly.
"From now on, if you're hurting, come talk to me. I don't want to see you sad, Itachi."
Itachi froze. He could tell her words came from the heart.
"How about it? I'm pretty reliable, you know! Itachi, bearing pain alone is tough—I know that. So if you're hurting, let me share it. I'm reliable, you know!"
She repeated, "I'm reliable, you know!" twice, as if desperate to prove herself to Itachi, to help shoulder his pain.
This time, Itachi didn't immediately agree. Izumi's hopeful, eager gaze slowly turned to disappointment. She forced a smile.
"S-Sorry, Itachi. I got ahead of myself. How could someone like me understand a genius like you? I'm so sorry. Please, just forget I said anything."
Just like when they were kids, this girl apologized profusely, as if only repeating "sorry" could convey her remorse. It was endearing, making her all the more lovable.
Itachi's dark eyes reflected Izumi's image. Even now, he didn't answer her directly. Instead, he reached out and gently brushed her cheek.
"You've got dango on your face."
In that moment, under the setting sun, both their faces flushed.
After a while, Itachi and Izumi stood to leave.
But as they turned, they noticed someone not far behind them—a figure in an Akatsuki robe, face hidden under a conical hat, standing sideways.
Izumi was slightly surprised. The scene was identical to her encounter with Kagaya a few days ago.
But Itachi showed no surprise at all. As if he hadn't seen the figure, he led Izumi past them.
The three passed each other without pause, as if Itachi and Izumi truly hadn't noticed Kagaya.
But Kagaya smiled faintly, satisfied. In the moment they passed, his lips moved slightly, silently. He was certain Itachi could read his lips.
After they passed, Izumi glanced back, but the spot was empty, as if no one had ever been there.
"Huh? Itachi, did you see that person just now?"
A warm smile appeared on Itachi's calm face.
"I saw him."
In that fleeting moment of passing, Kagaya had said to Itachi: "She's a great girl, Big Brother. Don't let her go."
Itachi had replied to Kagaya: "Take care of yourself."
The setting sun bathed the riverside in warmth. Though this village was so cold, there were still those who shared their light to warm others.
This was the last warmth.