Chapter 2: Unsure of Perfection

Dinner was awkward. Miho was colder to Itachi than normal and downright rude to her father. If Itachi found it peculiar, he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he was the exact opposite of Miho—polite, gentlemanly, and more than willing to engage in conversation with Hiroki. They spoke of the Academy, Itachi's progress in ANBU, as well as the recent jutsu that Itachi had finally mastered. The conversation did not make Miho any more sociable; she sullenly ate, listening to Hiroki praise Itachi for mastering his Sharingan and being able to create a very impressive genjutsu.

When Miho finished, she stood up to leave, intending to sneak out of the house and go for a solitary walk.

"Miho, wash the dishes," said Hiroki sternly.

"I'll wash mine," she said coolly, "but since I already cooked, I don't feel the need to take up all the burdens of this house, so you can wash your own."

"Miho!"

"I'm going for a walk," she said calmly, rinsing her bowl and drying it.

"What kind of hostess are you?" demanded Hiroki.

"I cooked," she said pointedly, putting her bowl neatly aside. "If you want to play the kind host, you can wash your own dish. Goodbye."

She disappeared from her father's sight, aiming straight for the door. Her lightweight body had always given her an advantage when it came to running away from her father, so she was perturbed when someone managed to catch her by the shoulder before she could exit.

Miho let out a curse, materializing by the doorway as Itachi's firm arm locked around her shoulder, preventing her from leaving.

"What are you doing?" she said coldly, her gray eyes flickering.

"You should be more respectful to your elders," he said in his low timbre, his onyx eyes meeting hers head on. "Your father has asked you to stay."

"And I have every intention of leaving," she answered. "Do not try to stop me from leaving my own house, Uchiha."

"Chiaki-san, I—"

Miho whipped out her leg, feeling it connect with his waist with no little satisfaction, and made a run for it. She then heard a popping noise behind her, and while she did not bother to slow down, it dampened her euphoria, knowing that she had failed to injure him because of his well-constructed Kage Bunshin. And she had not even seen him construct the hand signs for it. Idiot genius.

She leapt off into the distance, her dull silver eyes watching her surroundings. It was not terribly late, but the streets were already empty, and the electric lights were beginning to flicker slowly on, illuminating the alleyways with eerie shadows. Miho swung over a few rails and made her way to the bridge.

The moon was beginning to creep out from behind the clouds, peeking at Miho and almost chastising her for being so rude. Miho ignored it. She was surprised that she even had a conscience anymore, especially when it came to her father. A wry smirk crept to her lips. Consciences were meant to be eliminated to become the perfect shinobi anyway, so she was, in a way, becoming more of a shinobi than she'd intended.

Miho arrived at the bridge, slowing down her pace as she walked onto the smooth wooden platform. She hoisted herself on the rails, lying down in the rather thick boards and watching the clouds pass by over her. She let out a sigh, placing an arm on her forehead as she slowly closed her eyes.

So maybe she shouldn't have been so…antagonistic toward Itachi. But he was irritating. Perfect, genius, precocious and naturally-talented yet honestly chivalrous—everything that she was not. She was the silent, sullen, almost dislikable one. Miho seldom smiled and scowled constantly, was easily irritated and rather antisocial. Most of it had been an effect of Hiroki's influence; had Miho's mother, Chiaki Aki, still been alive, Miho would've turned out very differently.

Aki had been a Healer. Her clan, the Saruji Clan, had been one of the final clans specializing in healing jutsu—their kekkei genkai was a coveted one, difficult to utilize but extremely useful, though detrimental to the user's health—Aki's marriage to Hiroki had technically been forbidden, as Saruji members were supposed to intermarry in order to keep their kekkei genkai line alive and keep the offspring's physical compositions strong.

Hiroki didn't like the Healing arts, believing that they were weak and the signs of cowardice. He'd pushed Miho to the limits for strong offense, but she'd always done badly when it came to offense. She much preferred to sit at the sidelines, watching, sensing…but she hadn't been able to train her chakra sensing as much as she'd liked, nor had she even bothered tackling the latent kekkei genkai inside her.

Miho snapped her eyes open as she sensed someone approach her. She bolted upright, only to see Itachi standing a foot away from her, his dark eyes flickering in amusement at her shock.

"Chiaki-san, your father has asked me to find you and tell you to go home," he said.

"Why do you follow my father's beck and call?" she said coldly, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. "Just ignore me, and I'll ignore you. There's no need for us to be associated."

"But that'd be a disgrace to your father on my part—"

"What goes on between my father and me has nothing to do with you," she said icily. "You are an outsider whom I happen to hate. Don't butt in. You don't understand anything."

"Likewise, you don't understand anything with me, either," said Itachi calmly. "Your hatred for me is groundless and petty—I'm simply doing what my teacher asked of me, nothing more, nothing less. I didn't mean to be intrusive, and you're being immature."

"Forgive me," said Miho with chilling mockery. "I did not mean to be petty. Hatred tends to do that to people."

Itachi heaved a sigh, his dark eyes watching her with exasperation.

"Are you always this dislikable?" he asked.

"Very much so," she replied. "You can tell my dear father that I will return home in due time—I'm meditating. Or at least, I was, until I was disturbed by an impertinent idiot."

"Why do you hate me so much, Chiaki?"

"I answered that question earlier today. It's because you're perfect, Uchiha, and I hate perfect people. I hate everything that my father adores, and that includes perfection."

"That's a bit unfair to me, you know," he said, exhaling. "I might be imperfect. You don't know anything about me, really."

"I hate you," said Miho simply. "That's all I need to know."

An expression of some sort flashed over Itachi's normally impassive face: anger, annoyance, as well as a tiny bit of sorrow, it seemed. Miho caught it, and guilt crept up in her chest. Her countenance, however, remained unbearably impassive—she would not yield to him.

"You should go home," said Itachi finally. "We at the Uchiha household will be expecting you and your father tomorrow at six, so please don't be late."

"I'm not going," said Miho stonily. "I'm going out with my sempai, so if you'll please—"

"Why are you so attached to Kakashi-san and the rest?" said Itachi. "Is it because they were some of the few whom both you and your father could acknowledge?"

"Uchiha—"

"Or is there something different?" said Itachi, his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight. "Perhaps something…deeper?"

Miho gritted her teeth. Itachi was perceptive—too perceptive. Were her emotions that obvious? Or was he just too good?

"My relationship with my sempai is conveniently none of your business, Uchiha. I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of my affairs."

"Affairs," repeated Itachi, and there was a mocking tone to the word. "What could you mean by that?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Uchiha—it's very much out of your character."

"Hmph." He gave a short-lived smirk. "Well, we'll be expecting you tomorrow. My mother's rather anxious to meet you."

"Stop lying and trying to make me guilty in refusing to go—I know for a fact that your mother probably doesn't even know I exist.'

"I beg to differ," said Itachi in that terribly smooth voice of his. "I've mentioned you a few times, and she seems…impressed, to say the least, that you are such a capable kunoichi."

"Flattery will get you nowhere as well," answered Miho. "I'm leaving. Any time arguing with you is time wasted, after all."

"Again, I beg to differ. I seem to have grasped a much better sense of your personality with this conversation."

Miho took a step forward, annoyance getting the better of her rationale. Chakra, always easily flowing through her body, rushed to the tips of her fingers and she swept it up to Itachi's neck in one swift motion, cutting through his thin skin just enough so that blood was drawn.

Itachi did not move.

Their eyes met for but a split second when Itachi disappeared, his figure simply melting away into the night. Behind her.

She spun around, swinging a kunai dexterously around her finger as she gripped the handle and stabbed it forward, catching Itachi's profile by the shoulder. Again, it melted away.

Damn it. Genjutsu.

"Not bad," said Itachi's voice, and once again, he was behind her. His hand snaked up around her waist, catching her arms. His grip was surprisingly firm, holding her stiffly in place. "I always heard from your father that genjutsu was your weakness," he continued. "You can't seem to differentiate the two easily, but your reactions are decent enough for you to avoid most basic illusions."

A copy of Itachi appeared in front of her, and the small smirk on his lips made her blood boil. She struggled fruitlessly against his iron grip—she could not budge.

"I am nowhere near as perfect as you think I am," said Itachi chillingly, sliding his index finger up her throat and forcing her to look into his eyes. She jerked back in surprise, confronted with the famous blood-colored Sharingan, the trademark of the Uchiha clan. Some pressure rippled through her body—suffocating, foreboding, and immense. Her breath came short and she was reduced to gasping for oxygen as the atmosphere around her grew denser, darker—she could not help but feel afraid, repulsed, almost, and looked away.

And then all the tension disappeared; the scene returned to normal, and Miho was released. She collapsed, breathing harshly, as Itachi's footsteps paused right in front of her.

"Forgive me," he said gently, kneeling beside her and helping her up. "I didn't mean to go so far. I was a bit irritated with your behavior, but the punishment was unwarranted."

She slapped his hands away, her grey eyes flashing.

"Don't touch me," she said lethally.

"Again, forgive me," he said genuinely. "My temper slipped."

"I don't give a damn—"

"Well, doesn't this just prove that I'm not as perfect as you think I am?" said Itachi with a tinge of hopefulness in his voice.

"You're right," said Miho, her breathing still ragged. "You're not. You're not perfect. But that doesn't make me hate you any less."

Itachi gave a sigh.

"Then what exactly do you like, Chiaki-san?"

"Nothing. Nothing about you."

Itachi pursed his lips. "I see. So if I somehow managed to turn exactly into Kakashi-san, would you like me any more then?"

Miho made a movement, darting her hand through the air to slap him. She should've known that it was a pointless effort—that Itachi could catch it easily. He did, pulling her hand away from his face and looking apologetic again.

"My tongue slipped," he explained. "I didn't mean it. Sorry."

"Just shut up!" burst out Miho, her typically stainless mask disappearing. "Goodness, stop being so…so sorry! Say what you mean, and mean it! You don't have to go apologizing for everything that annoys me, because you'll just be apologizing for the rest of eternity!"

Itachi looked taken back with her outburst, his grip relaxing. She snatched her wrist out of his hand and stalked off, fuming. She crossed the bridge, muttering a low string of curses under her breath, as she headed home. How annoying. She'd almost been glad when he'd retaliated with his genjutsu—it meant that he was actually human, could actually get angry. The idiot—how could he even stand to be in her presence for more than ten minutes, especially with the attitude she held towards him?

And she herself—Miho, herself—was being too paradoxical for her own good. She couldn't make up her mind if she was feeling vindictive or culpable.

It took her a little while, considering how stealthy and well-concealed his chakra was, but Miho noticed that he was following her back home, though from a short distance away. She stopped, hoary eyes glaring again.

"You don't have to escort me," she said irritably. "Just go home. It'd be much faster anyway."

"Sorry," he said with a smile. "I can't seem to do that."

"…Stop apologizing," she said, turning around and ignoring the tinge that grew to her cheeks. "Especially with a smile—it makes you seem insincere."

"Sorry that tha—…never mind." He sped up his pace, joining her on her right. The distance between then shrank to a foot. He made an effort to pick up the conversation again, but seemed to decide against it. They walked silently back through the alleys to Miho's house, where they finally slowed down to a stop.

"…I'd like to extend my invitation to you again," said Itachi as Miho climbed the stairs to her front door. "Six o'clock tomorrow, at the main Uchiha residence. My family would like to meet you."

Miho didn't answer, but instead just stared at him, letting the wind blow gently around their profiles.

"It's been…interesting," said Itachi finally. "It was a pleasure walking you home."

He began to leave, most likely assuming that Miho would not answer anything further. A strange emotion seized her, and she finally spoke.

"I'll be there," she said.

He stopped and turned around, smiling a bit.

"…Good."

Miho nodded jerkily and went inside her house without another word. Her cheeks felt quite warm as she closed the door behind her, enveloping her in darkness. Itachi. He was really a perfect idiot.

"So…" Miho said awkwardly the next day at tea, "I can't go out to dinner again."

Kakashi, Kurenai, and Asuma just looked at her with amused expressions. She avoided their gazes, studying the ANBU mask in her hand intently.

"So," said Kurenai with feigned indifference, "how did it go with Itachi-kun yesterday?"

Miho ignored the question deliberately and continued her apology.

"I'm very sorry," she said. "I will have to take up your offer some other time."

"Eh, we pretty much thought you'd be out with Itachi again anyway," said Asuma admittedly. "So—"

"What do you mean?" said Miho darkly. "You thought it was obvious he'd…win over me somehow?"

"Well, he has a way with women, to some extent," confessed Kurenai. "We thought it was only natural—"

"I'm only going over to his house to eat because my father's making me," said Miho with large bouts of annoyance. "Don't get the wrong idea—the day I like him is the day Kakashi-sempai comes to a meeting on time."

"Fine, fine," yawned Kakashi. "I would like to know how it goes, Miho. It'd be good for you to at least make a friend your age, you know—"

"You're my age," said Miho stubbornly.

"I'm seven years older than you, Miho. That's hardly your age."

Disappointment settled in Miho's stomach, and she stared at her mask.

"Itachi seems like a good kid," said Kakashi thoughtfully. "You'll get along well with him."

The constant discussion of Itachi made Miho feel worse than she already did. She stood up, tossing a few bills on the table for her tea.

"I'll see you later," she said shortly, standing up and leaving.

Kurenai sighed as Miho's slim figure left. Women's intuition picked up on things that men were keenly oblivious to.

"Smart, Kakashi," said the beauteous woman dryly.

"What?" said Kakashi innocently. "I only was speaking the truth. She will get along well with him."

Kurenai just shook her head and sipped her tea. Oh well. It wasn't like Miho and Kakashi were very compatible anyway.

"Welcome!" said a plain yet somehow comely woman as the two member Chiaki family made its way to the Uchiha doorstep. "Ah, Hiroki-sensei, it's an honor to have you here."

"It's my pleasure," said Hiroki with a bow. "It's good to see you, Mikoto-san. Is Fugaku in?"

"Yes, he's most likely discussing something with Itachi," answered Mikoto, whom Miho guessed to be Itachi's mother. Mikoto's eyes landed on Miho, and the mother smiled. "So this must be Miho-chan! Pleased to meet you. I've heard such wonderful things about you."

Hiroki raised an eyebrow at this statement, but Miho ignored it and gave a short bow.

"Thanks for having us."

"Please, this way…Fugaku and Itachi will be out in a minute. Oh, Sasuke, goodness, why do you have to find your brother?" Mikoto said exasperatedly to a little boy who bounded up to her with an excited look on his face. "Greet the guests politely, Sasuke. This is Hiroki-sensei, who teaches the highest class at the Academy—you'll have him someday as a teacher."

"Nice to meet you," said the boy politely, bowing deeply. He seemed to be a…very cute child. Sasuke then turned to look at Miho. "Who are you?" he said in a completely different tone that was bordering rudeness. Fine, cross her earlier thought—he was not cute. Impertinent brat.

Mikoto whacked Sasuke lightly on the head.

"This is Miho-san," said Mikoto severely. "She's about the same age as your brother and is a very good kunoichi in this village—"

"My brother is better than you, isn't he?" said Sasuke.

Definitely not cute at all.

The discourteous statement of fact earned Sasuke another whack on the head.

"Sasuke…" said Mikoto warningly.

"Sorry, Okaa-san."

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to Miho-chan. Now, why don't you lead her to Nii-san's room—I think Otou-san is finished speaking with him."

As if on cue, Uchiha Fugaku walked down the stairs, joining the rest of them. With a chin that was always rigid and squared, Fugaku came off as the extremely stern type. Miho could not see the physical relationship between someone as good looking as Itachi and his father.

Fugaku glanced in Miho's direction, as if analyzing her, before giving her a brief nod of acknowledgment. Miho bowed curtly again, feeling unsure of the verdict of his judgment, before her father pushed her to follow Sasuke, who was already bounding up the stairs to another room.

She stepped quietly away, taking her time as she took in the exterior designs of the house. Very plain, though it held a regal sense of some sort, emanating from the sleek wooden walls and the unadorned floor. A shadow stopped up ahead of her.

"Nii-san's waiting for you," said Sasuke, peering down at her.

Miho climbed up the rest of the stairs and followed the child to Itachi's room, where the prodigy was sitting calmly at a desk. He looked up upon their entrance, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Chiaki-san," greeted Itachi. "Glad that you made it."

"…No problem," she replied, sitting down formally at the table.

"Sasuke, would you go get some tea?" asked Itachi.

"I don't want to," pouted Sasuke. "You always tell me to go away, Nii-san—she probably doesn't want any tea anyway."

"Sorry," sighed Itachi to Miho. "He's not usually this rude."

"Hey, I can hear you, Nii-san!"

"It's fine, I don't need anything," said Miho stiffly, looking around the room. Like the rest of his house, Itachi's room was neat, orderly, but lacked personality, save for pride. The Uchiha crest, a red and white fan, was hanging on one wall, but that was the only decoration.

Sasuke was staring at her.

"What is it?" said Miho bluntly.

"I'm just wondering how good you are," said Sasuke honestly. "I know Nii-san is the best ninja in the village at his age, so you must not be that great."

"Yeah," said Miho tiredly, not willing to bicker. "I'm not."

Sasuke blinked at her self-deprecating statement, evidently unsure on how to reply. Itachi chuckled, getting down from his desk and sitting across from Miho.

"My father and I were talking earlier," said Itachi, "and it seems that ANBU has assigned us a mission."

"…Us?" said Miho warily.

Itachi nodded. "Looks like we're going to be on the same platoon. It should be quite a big mission."

Miho looked uneasily down at Sasuke, who was listening very carefully. "Are you sure…you should be telling me this now?"

Itachi shrugged. "Sasuke won't do anything like blab. He knows that the secrets of the family are to remain in the family."

Sasuke nodded proudly, but the action didn't alleviate Miho's anxiety any. Itachi continued with his explanation.

"We're to go to the Land of the Mist," said Itachi quietly. "There seems to be someone amidst ANBU who is leaking out information, and we need to infiltrate their headquarters to find out how much they know, and possibly who's the culprit."

"Isn't that risky?" said Miho. "They'll most likely know that we're coming ahead of time."

Again, Itachi shrugged, obviously not worried.

"It shouldn't be that difficult of a mission. Considering your caliber, we should be okay."

"You mean considering your caliber," said Miho dryly.

Itachi smirked. "True, but I didn't want to say that for fear of sounding conceited."

Mikoto's voice filtered through the door, calling from downstairs.

"Sasuke! Could you come here and help me out with dinner?"

"I'm busy!"

"Sasuke!"

"Fine," grumbled the younger brother, standing up and exiting. "Nii-san, you better train with me later…"

"Sure, sure," said Itachi, waving him away.

An awkward silence settled over them as Sasuke left them.

"So…" said Miho, "I'm guessing you're the platoon leader for this mission?"

Itachi nodded. "I hope you don't mind."

"So when do we leave?"

"Two days time."

Another stiff silence fell, for Miho felt no need to continue the conversation. Itachi just smiled at her, and she felt a ripple of annoyance course through her. How irritating.

"I'm glad we can work together," he said. "I've always wanted to see you in action."

"Why are you so interested in me?" said Miho evenly. "You sound like a creep."

Itachi chuckled. "Creep? That's not kind. I'm just interested in you because you hate me, that's all. I don't like being hated by someone I hardly know."

"Your way of flirting sucks," said Miho crassly.

Itachi simply chuckled again and beckoned for her to follow him downstairs.

"Time for dinner. Hopefully it'll go better than yesterday," he added with a meaningful look.

Miho grimaced. So he had noticed her immaturity. Worse, he wasn't perturbed by it. He was amused.

Dinner passed by pleasantly, to say the least. Miho remained silent most of the time as Hiroki and Fugaku talked quite a bit, about the affairs of the village, about the Uchiha clan and their underappreciated role as the police, about Itachi and his amazing skills. It was a typical dinner conversation. Hiroki seemed adamant in ignoring Miho, but Fugaku brought her up of his own accord.

"Your daughter…Miho, is it?" said Fugaku, looking at Miho.

Hiroki nodded.

"Yes, she's my only child."

"I hear she's quite the accomplished shinobi."

"Nothing compared to Itachi, Fugaku-san."

"Itachi is one of those rare prodigies," said Fugaku seriously. "He's also greatly helped by his kekkei genkai…speaking of which, has Miho-san activated hers? If memory serves me correctly, her mother was of the Saruji clan, no? A wonderful bloodline. Too bad it died out."

"Yes, well," said Hiroki uneasily, "Miho has not yet activated the Ishachi yet…"

"Only because you hate it," said Miho suddenly, finishing the food on her plate.

The table grew silent to stare at her. Miho looked unrelentingly back at her father, who was aghast at her outburst.

"Sorry," she said unrepentantly. "My tongue slipped."

"Well," said Itachi in an attempt to recover the conversation, "the Ishachi…I heard it's very difficult to use, so it's no surprise you haven't activated it yet."

"Healing Blood," murmured Fugaku. "It's detrimental to the user though, isn't it? I heard that none of the Saruji clan lived past forty…"

"It depends on how much one uses it," responded Miho, her eyes closing as she drank her tea. "Unlike the Uchiha Sharingan, our kekkei genkai spreads through our entire body. Chakra is therefore circulated along with our blood, making its user weary easily if it's used too often. If one forces it to last longer, it'll draw slowly on the life force of the user."

"…I see," said Fugaku thoughtfully. "So what exactly can it do? I heard of its healing abilities, but—"

"Most of the Saruji clan consisted of medic-nins," interrupted Miho rudely. "Offense-wise, the clan members were weaker…they belonged in the hospital, on the sidelines…since chakra so readily flows through with their blood, they had an extremely easy grasp over chakra control in their individual body parts. Many became sensors if they didn't want to waste their life force on the medical field. Those who became medics…they were more useful…"

"I heard that drinking the blood of an Ishachi user could heal extensive wounds," remarked Itachi, "and that the users could absorb the wounds of others at the risk of their own health."

"You heard correctly," said Miho calmly. "The wounds would accumulate though, dilapidating the Saruji's health. It was also a contributor to their short life spans…"

"How do you know so much?" questioned Hiroki, his eyes narrowed. He had made it a point never to answer any questions Miho had about her mother or her clan, deeming it useless and unnecessary. According to him, it would never matter if she activated her kekkei genkai or not.

"I read it," she replied. "Okaa-san's journals…she left them around the house, documenting every patient she saw."

Another silence fell around them after Miho's words, for anyone could sense the anger that was crawling up in Hiroki's features. Miho shrugged it off apathetically, standing up and collecting her plate as well as Sasuke's empty one.

"Oh, no," said Mikoto, standing up with her. "I'll clean up—you're the guest, please sit down."

"It's fine," said Miho with a rare smile. "I'm used to cleaning up, and I'll feel bad if you clean up by yourself…"

Mikoto seemed genuinely touched at this, and smiled broadly at Miho.

"Well, I suppose I can't refuse you if you say it like that," she laughed. "Here, I'll help…"

Miho retreated into the Uchiha's kitchen; she couldn't help but feel apprehensive at her father's murderous aura rising behind her.

"So…the Ishachi," said Itachi as he placed a bowl in the sink for Miho to wash, "I had a few more questions…"

Miho continued to sponge a plate with soap, listening. When he didn't continue, she looked up at him and met his eyes. Dark, strong, bold…and kind, in a way. She flushed, looking away.

"Why are you blushing?" he said, standing closer to her.

"I'm not," she said, her eyes fixated on the plate she was washing. She was being overly conscious of the strong arms placed near her, his tan skin, muscular chest that was so prominent even through his black casual shirt, the lingering feeling of warmth as he breathed against her cheek.

"Do…you like me, perhaps?" he asked. "Aesthetically, at least?"

"What kind of question is that?" she said coldly, rinsing the plate and setting it aside. Much to her relief, Itachi stepped away and took the plate, drying it with a clean towel.

"Sorry," he said, a smile on his face again. "I tend to get conceited sometimes…"

"…What were your questions?" she inquired, desperate for the conversation to take a turn.

"Oh, right. Well, for one, I was wondering why your father didn't want you to know anything about the Saruji clan. I would think he would encourage you to activate your bloodline limit."

"Believe it or not," snorted Miho, "my father actually liked my mother. When she died, he hated everything that caused her death—mainly, the Ishachi. Okaa-san was a bit too self-sacrificing and never thought twice of assimilating a wound from someone else. She was also rather weak, physically, and so she passed away early."

"I see…" murmured Itachi. "So he's never asked you to try and activate your kekkei genkai either."

"Who knows, I might not have it," she said, knowing full well that it was a lie. "I don't want to activate it either, really."

Itachi cocked his head to the side in inquiry.

"Why?"

"I'm not like my mother. I'm not willing to take the wounds of others, or to help them by cutting myself open and weakening myself," she replied frankly.

"…That's not exactly the shinobi way," he said, and his voice was a bit darker than before.

"Sorry," said Miho unapologetically. "I don't harbor any particular love for the shinobi way, or for Konoha. I'm a rather selfish person."

"Then what exactly are you a shinobi for?" he said, turning off the water and forcing her to look at him. His onyx eyes were gleaming in a strange way, as if he were demanding an answer. He was angry—latent though his emotions were, she could sense that, at least. "To be a shinobi, you must have to protect something, have a passion for—"

"I have a passion for the people I care for," she said indifferently. "If there's someone I were to like and love, then with them, my loyalty would lie. I'm a shinobi not for Konoha, but for the individuals who live in it."

Itachi remained silent, his hand still cupping her chin. Miho could feel his warm breath near her mouth, and pulled away immediately. She turned on the faucet again and resumed washing.

Itachi laughed quietly, but the sound was not of amusement. It was darker, uneasy, almost.

"I'm jealous, in a way," he said softly. "To think in that mindset…I would be overwhelmed in guilt every second of my living."

"…I know," she answered. "That just proves my point—you're perfect. You're brilliant, strong, genius—and yet you're not conceited. You're self-sacrificial." She gave a wry smile. "The perfect shinobi, mm?"

He looked at her oddly, as if absorbing her words. Itachi reached over and took the bowl from her hands, pushing her gently to the side.

"Your hands will be damaged if you wash the dishes all the time," he said quietly. "I'll take it from here."

Miho looked at him incredulously, opening her mouth to give an indignant response, but shut it as she realized that she was being dismissed.

He was really angry.

"…See, it's natural for us to hate each other," she said acidly. "My logic doesn't work for you, my personality is hateful to you, and I annoy you. So let's stop it with the courtesies, how about it?"

"You don't annoy me," said Itachi, rinsing a bowl. "I can follow your logic perfectly."

"Then why are you angry?"

"I'm not."

Miho scoffed, shifting uneasily on her feet.

"Your logic makes sense," he continued. "It's in your personality—which I also don't hate. I can appreciate it." He gave a brief smile. "I'm interested to see how your words will match your actions on our mission." He handed her the bowl. "Here, dry this."

She took the bowl, startled. So she hadn't been dismissed. He wanted her to stay nearby? The absurdity of her thoughts…

They lapsed into silence, the quietness blanketing their atmosphere, turning it into something neither hateful nor lovable. She snuck a glance at Itachi's face. His eyes were dark. So dark. Shadowed.

Perfect or no? She could not be sure anymore.

Free Talk:

Yay, great reception for the first chapter! :) Thanks for reviewing! Sorry that this came out a bit slow--the beginning's always really boring. Hopefully the pace will start speeding up though.

So I've decided just to keep it in the past and gradually progress. I think flashing back and forth will be too confusing and will disrupt the flow of the story.

I'm wondering if I've made Itachi OOC, but again, he doesn't turn unbearably emotionless until after the massacre, so let's hope he's not OOC right now! :) It's still taking me time for Miho's personality to develop, but it'll get there. I'm also hoping she's not Mary-Sue--it's harder to make a non-Mary-Sue character in a canon story. I want to say she's okay though.

Oh, and just for kicks, the Ishachi is totally made up. I just googled the Japanese word for "healer" and "blood" and thought they sounded fine when I mashed them together, haha.

Please review! My love for this series has been rejuvenated as of the last few chapters in the manga. (Yes, Karin, just die. Fall off the face of the earth. No one loves you.) So review!! I'll try to update sooner. Oh, and discussion will be on my LJ later!

xoxo,

m.n