It was the third night after Kita returned to the village when she learned the news of the Fourth Mizukage's death by self-sacrifice. At that time, she was lounging on the sofa with Konan, watching TV. Season one of Kazehiko had just ended, and the channel immediately started airing a new series called The Sword of Shinobi Love.
Kita's interest was minimal, but Konan was completely absorbed. In Konan's words, the writers were "smartly online." The story followed a fallen princess trying to reclaim her kingdom, with little action or combat—mostly scheming, betrayals, and intrigue. Kita had nodded off a few times while watching but was repeatedly roused by Konan to continue following along. Konan joked that she hadn't even slept through the cliché love-triangle drama Return to the Village, so how could she doze off here?
Kita had no words and could only resign herself to watching Lord Amano continue navigating the world of wealthy merchants and nobles, executing his plans for restoration.
When Lord Amano successfully sowed discord between enemies and the elite, Kita received the latest intelligence from a spy in Amegakure.
——The Fourth Mizukage has died by self-sacrifice; Terumi Mei has assumed the position of Fifth Mizukage.
The message was brief, just that one sentence. Kita glanced at it, then looked at Konan, who was still leaning against her and engrossed in the TV, utterly unfazed.
She waved the small note in front of Konan's face. Konan glanced at it for a second, recognized the text, then went right back to watching without a hint of reaction.
Kita was visibly annoyed. She reached out and grabbed a strand of Konan's long hair, which was tied up in a bun but now loosened around her shoulders, trying to capture her attention.
Unfortunately, Lord Amano's restoration plot was far more important to Konan. Kita pouted, but her hand slipped mischievously into the slightly oversized vest Konan was wearing.
"What are you doing?"
Though her voice carried mild annoyance, her gaze never left Lord Amano on the screen, continuing to execute his schemes.
Kita felt even more irritated. What's so captivating about this show? Amano looks like that—if he isn't sleeping with the director, he must be bribing them. No way he earned his position fairly.
She turned her body and leaned in.
"SMACK!"
The back of her head was tapped—light but firm—followed by a slightly scolding voice from above.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
Kita thought: Then I'll do it, and you hit me? I'll bite you!
She tilted her neck and murmured—
"Uh~ don't do that, I'm watching TV, hmm~"
A legitimate protest, but in these moments, protests were useless.
Sounds began to swell, thick with desire.
Whatever schemes Lord Amano had in motion, neither Kita nor Konan had time to consider them at this moment.
Once the two had indulged their pleasure, Konan picked up the vest Kita had tossed aside on the sofa, slipping it back on. During the process, she finally removed the damp, half-worn underwear and handed it to Kita with a firm instruction.
"Wash this."
Kita accepted gladly, returning from the washroom with plain black underwear.
About ten minutes later, after washing and drying, Kita emerged with a fresh piece. At the hallway entrance, she saw Konan meticulously mending the yukata torn from their earlier passion. Her hands threaded the needle precisely, repairing Kita's earlier poor handiwork. Only when Lord Amano said something extraordinary did Konan lift her head to glance at the screen. Kita watched as she threaded the needle, pressed the repaired fabric to her lips, biting the white thread to snap it. The needle and thread fixed the yukata flawlessly. Satisfied, Konan placed the white-and-wave patterned yukata aside and continued watching the so-called Lord Amano.
Kita recalled a luxurious yukata she had once left in Amegakure, exquisitely embroidered, which she had folded neatly and entrusted to an innkeeper for delivery the next day. She had been delighted at the time, perhaps wearing it was the most lavish experience of her life. Yet, looking back, she preferred the discounted cotton robe she had purchased for four thousand ryo.
Kita tossed the underwear back into the bedroom, strode forward, and despite Konan's struggling, lifted her several steps before tossing her onto the soft, large bed—somewhat reckless and bold.
"Hey! We just did it once, what are you doing? Crazy! And there's still an episode left!"
Crazy indeed—she had been poisoned by a certain 'Nightless Konan,' with no cure.
Kita grinned wickedly, her long hair cascading over the bed as she crawled over Konan.
I love you. I've always loved you. I've always…
Kita pressed her forehead against Konan's, not a kiss, but gentle, teasing contact, face against face.
Their closeness, their breaths mingling, went beyond mere desire—something deeper. Konan could not name it but responded instinctively, wrapping her arms around Kita's neck. Their breaths brushed against ears and faces alike. Kita closed her eyes, savoring the satisfying moment, and Konan followed, enveloped in a bliss akin to entering heaven.