Some might claim that she had a problem, an unhealthy obsession with the dearly departed that it would likely be wise to seek help for. But for the life of her, Asami couldn't seem to let this go. What had begun as a simple coping mechanism had swiftly morphed into full blown denial.
Something about the familiar stop in her morning routine felt natural, calming. While those watching from the outside saw the tendency as a sharp crack in an already fragile mental state, to her, it was the one thing keeping her together. What did those on the outside understand about the situation anyway? In that bitter new reality, the rather lost young woman was desperate for even a hint of normalcy, no matter how small and seemingly insignificant.
"May I have two, medium green teas, please?" Her voice was gentle, though crimson orbs remained trained on the ground no matter how hard she tried to keep them up. "One bitter and the other sweet."
Word traveled fast in a small town like Konoha, so she couldn't claim to have been caught off guard by the pitying look sent her way before the barista set off to fulfil her robotic request.
In spite of the warm liquid small hands were wrapped carefully around, they hardly stopped trembling as small feet shuffled along through streets lightly crowded with people too busy rushing to work to pay her any mind- not that she particularly noticed them, either. Her heart was set on one destination alone, and nothing would stop her from getting there.
A single hand shifted forward carefully as to not spill any tea as her pointer finger pressed the button that would sound the doorbell. Right on time as usual. And right on cue, hard light brown parted to reveal an equally grief-weary Shisui, the older forcing a pathetic attempt at a smile.
"I brought Itachi's tea." Crimson hues never once strayed from the ground.
"Asami," Gentle hands rested on the young woman's upper arms, serious charcoal hues attempting to pin her own with little success. "I think it's time to stop this now. Itachi isn't coming back."
As a medic, to have suffered the fate of watching her best friend die of some godforsaken disease had been the worst kind of torture, a tragedy she couldn't let go of. "It's my fault he's gone. The least I could do is make sure he always has his morning tea. You- you know he gets cranky without it."
Strong arms were quick to tug her smaller form close as quiet sobs that seldom ever escaped made her tremble, the swift action causing her to lose her grip on the cups or perhaps the strength to hold on to them any longer as they crashed to the ground, dousing the floor and creating a mess like the reality they were now trapped within.
This reality was a mess. Even after a year, Asami had not the strength to clean it up.