Chapter 9: The Things They Carried

The meetings with the Hokage and the elders started shortly after the night that Itachi was informed of his double-agent role. But he knew innately from the very beginning of that torturous night: he could not betray Konoha. His clan's wishes were a different story—perhaps he could persuade them, find someone within the Uchiha who agreed that the coup was not a good idea…and then peace could still coexist.

The Hokage was aware of the planned coup. How? Because Itachi had told him. Even though every word he spilled out made his throat burn and his heart convulse in a manner that destroyed him from the inside out with unspeakable guilt, he told them everything. The village's lives over the petty wishes of the Uchiha clan.

He prayed that the Hokage could find a solution. A peaceful solution. Maybe it would land Itachi in disgrace in the eyes of his clansmen, but that was hardly a sacrifice. Besides, Miho had made it clear that night that she was quite fine with Itachi, whether or not he was an Uchiha. She did not care. And it comforted him, at least in the slightest, to know that there was at least someone who still cared for him as himself and not as a prodigy of his people, and even thought she wasn't everything, couldn't really compare to the significance of his parents, who would be infinitely ashamed of his actions, or Sasuke, who would hate him with every fiber of his being, having the backing of someone somehow persuaded him to keep functioning.

Every time he saw Miho though, he couldn't help but feel, at the same time, repulsed. Not with her, but with himself. What was the point of keeping her with him? Just so he could satisfy some selfish desire, a futile hope that he could still be accepted by someone regardless of anything—who knew if Miho was even telling the truth? She was a girl of fourteen—her whims could change as quickly as they came. What, indeed, if every hope he had placed in her was wasted, and all he would incur by keeping her at his side was pain for the both of them?

Itachi was beginning to go insane. Fourteen, and already showing the indisputable signs of mental wear. He found himself muttering when he was alone, muttering things unintelligible to even himself. Back and forth he wavered—should he betray his family—should he push Miho away—should he tell her everything—constant wavering that just infuriated him so deeply because it wasn't like him to waver. Yet he had never been confronted with such dilemmas, and he had no idea what to do. His genius could not help him—this was not a new jutsu to learn, a new formula or applicable equation. Ethics was what it was. Ethics, morals, human-dictated guidelines that were embedded firmly into every being's conscience since the minute of their birth.

It took time. Hours melted into days, days evaporated into weeks. He made up his mind for his questions. Slowly, quietly, somewhat indecisively. He made them, though, and he would enact them.

Every choice went according to the feeble guidelines of humanly written ethics.


Miho wasn't going to pretend that something wasn't wrong with Itachi. The day after she'd snuck into his room to demand some sort of confirmation for her father's words, Itachi had gone to the Hokage's office for a long period of time. Thinking that he was receiving instructions for an important mission, she had not gone to seek him out, only to discover days later that the Itachi who'd entered that office was not remotely like the person who left it. The weeks following that meeting were strange, almost tense. She really didn't know what to say to him. Indeed, what could she say when Itachi was half as social as he normally was, when he was quiet and tired all the time, when it seemed like he had aged a decade overnight?

But they ended up spending more time together than they'd done before.

It was quiet between them, most of the time, when they just had meals together and would go for long, unending walks all around Konoha. Miho would notice Itachi's dark eyes scanning for every little detail—a dog scavenging for tossed food, a child dropping a stick of candy, a stray balloon floating up into the sky.

Normally impatient and inherently annoyed, Miho did confront him about it.

"What's going on?" she said one day at lunch at their regular café.

Itachi's eyes flickered from his barely touched soup to meet her gaze, then back down to stare at his chopsticks.

"Whatever would you mean, Miho?" he replied sedately.

He had started calling her by her first name in the rare moments he would speak at all. His voice would trail over it, almost analyzing it, like it was some therapeutic mantra that he could repeat over and over again to soothe his senses. It, in some bizarre way, calmed her.

"Don't joke," she said, also toying with her platter of noodles. "Something's not…right with you. Ever since you went to the Hokage. What did he tell you?"

"…Nothing of major importance," he answered, meeting her gaze steadfastly.

Miho snorted. "The Hokage called you specifically to his office to tell you 'nothing of major importance?' Don't question my intelligence, Uchiha. I'm not as stupid as you think I am."

"When have I ever said that you were stupid?" said Itachi calmly. "I would never do such a thing—that would be analogous to suicide."

Miho stared at him incredulously, irritated with his incredibly nonchalant behavior and his determination to avoid her question along with his clear intention to goad her into forgetting.

"Itachi," she said seriously.

His mouth twitched upon hearing his name, almost in a smirk that ultimately failed.

"Ah? No tirade, Miho?" he said.

"Don't expect me to fall for your distractions," she said coolly. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing, Miho," said Itachi in his customary smooth fashion. "You're under a…false impression that something would be wrong. I've been more worried about you, you know."

Miho unconsciously flushed.

"What do you mean?"

"You know," he said, "you're always scribbling away in that journal of yours—that's a habit I hadn't picked up on until recently."

"It's to document my patients in the hospital," she said dryly. "Nothing serious."

"You're always writing in it when you're in your hotel room."

"It's only occasional—" She paused. "…I've never written in it in front of you when we're in the hotel," she said slowly.

He seemed to realize his mistake instantly. "That is…I'm guessing, of course."

"You've been stalking me?"

"Of course not. You know, just checking up on you—"

"Uchiha!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sighed. "I promise not to do it again—"

"No, that's not it," she snapped. "Itachi, nice as it is, we've been spending a lot of time together lately, and the fact that you're not even home when we're not together is…is strange."

She paused, looking at him, thinking. Itachi was not the type to avoid his family. Even if Fugaku was demanding, Itachi still had Mikoto and Sasuke to care for.

"…Is…whatever's going on in your clan…is it affecting your…" She hesitated, choosing her words carefully, "your familial relations?"

"…Perhaps," conceded Itachi, his eyes closing as he brought a cup of tea to his lips. "I wouldn't be so worried on my part, Miho. I'm not the only one with clear familial problems."

"My father and I have never gotten along well to begin with," said Miho coldly.

"What makes you think my father and I have?" he replied.

There was a silence, filled in by the business of lunch hour in the café, but the external noise didn't seem to be enough to punctuate the dropped temperature between the two of them. Itachi sighed, put down his now empty cup, and stood up, tossing a few bills on the table indecorously.

"I'm guessing you're not going to finish either," he said. "Let's walk."

Miho stood up as well, fleetingly wishing that she could at least box up the lunch and take it home so she wouldn't have to waste food, but given the circumstances, holding Itachi back any longer would not be a wise idea.

They exited the café and headed habitually down the road that would lead to the bridge close to the hospital. Miho let out a breath, enjoying the abundant sunshine of noontime, while Itachi walked beside her, presumably bored.

"When did you start writing in a journal?" he asked suddenly.

"…A few weeks ago," Miho responded, somewhat startled with the question. Her journaling had begun shortly after she'd noticed how strange Itachi was behaving. It had been something to distract her. "It was just an idea I got from my mother. It seemed to be a bit…remedial for her when it came to dealing with her life and her patients."

"Are you in need of a curative, Miho?" said Itachi with a slight smirk as they stepped onto the solid wooden bridge. "Is life going wrong?"

"…It's been all right," she said cautiously, somewhat taken back with the wryness of his smirk and his atypical wording. "Things could be going better between my father and me if I wanted them to, but…"

"…Hiroki-sensei cares for you a great amount. For your mentality, your wellbeing…you should patch things up with him."

"Are you saying that your father doesn't care for your wellbeing?" she said without restraint, immediately regretting the words the moment they were out of her mouth.

Itachi stopped his rhythmic stride at the apex of the bridge, causing Miho to stop with him. She looked at him coolly, though not without a hint of nervousness. It was undeniable that sometimes—just sometimes—she was frightened of Itachi. Itachi, who was self-sacrificial and cared the world for others, for Konoha, Itachi, who probably wouldn't hurt a fly if he could help it. Regardless, though, she just sometimes was frightened of him, of the depth in his onyx eyes, especially as of late when he was always meditating and thinking. But Miho could never think that Itachi would hurt her, because he couldn't hurt anyone he was close to. It just wasn't possible for his nature.

His eyes softened a bit, and he tore his gaze from his and directed it elsewhere. A quiet chuckle escaped from his lips.

"I do admit that sometimes, I wish you weren't as bright as you are," he confessed. "That you didn't play the 'people analysis' game as vehemently and as well as you do, innately though it is."

Miho didn't answer, instead listening with bated breath.

"Or perhaps you're only so keen to analyze me," he continued. "Or you're only so good when you analyze me. Do I slip up when I'm around you? Do I make the game easier?"

"No," she deadpanned, unable to resist answering the rhetorical question. "No, you don't. Not at all."

Itachi gave a small smile. Not a smirk this time—a smile, one that she hadn't seen in days. It didn't, however, hide the measure of coldness in his eyes.

"Well, that's comforting." He paused, then started up again. "I wish we weren't so similar. Or dissimilar, as it seems most of the time."

Itachi was beginning to make no sense. Miho let his silence hover, silently counting every heartbeat that passed by.

"Can I be brutally honest with you?" he said, abruptly turning around to face her.

Miho blinked, feeling a bit apprehensive. "Y-yeah."

"I am strongly attracted to you, I believe, because you represent everything that I wish I could be. Selfish in the sense that you care for individuals rather than a global community, selfish in the sense that you can abandon your duty as a kunoichi—as an ANBU member—for a field that satisfies you more. It…it irks me, how free you can be without feeling guilty about it."

She stared.

"You like me because I'm selfish," she summarized in disbelief.

"Something along those lines."

"Because you wish you could be selfish."

"True."

"Are…are you…" She thought wildly for the right words to express her incredulity. She could not hold it back—her annoyance, her irate personality that clamored to break free of her attempted maturity. "Are you out of your mind? Is that all you see when you look at me—that I'm selfish? And why would it be so wrong, Uchiha, for me to try and pursue something that would make me happy? Do you really think I'd be doing the world any good in a field that I hate? And what exactly, Mr. Self-Sacrificial, is so wrong with wanting more to protect people I know than people I've never met? Sorry we can't all be like you, perfect in all thoughts and attempts to help better the world—"

"Do you really still have the reason to call me perfect anymore, Miho?" said Itachi softly.

She was panting slightly from saying everything in one long breath. Her eyes were fixated on his, cold and furious, but she knew her answer long before she voiced it.

"No."

Itachi looked dementedly satisfied. "Good."

Miho shook her head, her feet unconsciously taking her a step back. She knew what Itachi was doing. Purposefully, of course, but even though she knew his motives, it did not make his words any more pleasant, or his meaning any less distinct.

"I don't know what's going on with you," she said quietly. "I don't know why you're doing this, or why you're trying to push me away when I can safely say, Uchiha Itachi, that I may be the one person who understands you best."

Itachi's eyes flickered, but he said nothing.

"But if you want to keep a distance, that's fine," she said icily. "I'll keep it." She gave a curt nod. "Goodbye."

It wasn't too hard to walk away. Really, it wasn't.


"Hey, Itachi," said Shisui as he leaned against a tree in the forest that lingered outside the Land of the Mist.

Itachi looked up from the semi-worn out journal he was reading.

"Mm?"

"…Isn't that Chiaki Miho's book?"

"Why ever would you think that?" he answered, his eyes returning to the pages.

"…It says 'Property of Chiaki Miho' in bold, blue ink, right on the front."

Itachi absentmindedly shut the book slightly in order to get a better look of the cover page.

"I must've missed that," he drawled, "but now that I have it, I might as well read it to alleviate my boredom."

"…It also says 'Curses and explosive seals inside.'"

"I caught that note," said Itachi lazily. "I've already deactivated all her silly little seals. She's much too paranoid—either that, or she considers herself so important that others would try to read her journal, and she sees explosive seals as a wonderful way to keep them out. Sometimes, I wonder why she's so asinine when it comes to these things when most of the time, she's actually quite clever."

"…Do I even want to know what you're doing?"

"No, Shisui," said Itachi to his cousin levelly. "You don't."

"Er…well, can I just ask…does she know—"

"Of course not," said Itachi dryly. "That would take all the fun out of reading her private entries…"

"…Uh, shouldn't you be careful then? Like…you're making it kind of obvious that you've been reading it," said Shisui dubiously.

"How offensive, Shisui. I'm being extremely careful with this booklet."

"You folded the cover page, Itachi. It's got a crease in it now."

"Chiaki-san is not the most graceful or obsessively compulsive girl in the world. She will most likely blame it on herself."

"Itachi, seriously," said Shisui doubtfully. "She'll like…murder you."

"Hardly," said the younger Uchiha, flipping the page as his dark eyes continued to read each line with rapt yet divided attention. "She is not that capable."

"Last time I checked, she was the only one to have you hospitalized, close to death."

"That was hardly her doing—I was only foolish enough to drink her blood. What caused my organs to rupture was not her skill but her hereditary kekkei genkai."

"Whatever…" sighed Shisui, shutting his swirling crimson eyes briefly. "Well, I'm beat. You can take the next shift, seeing as you're not about to sleep any time soon. Be alert, Itachi. We're pretty close to the border."

"Mm," said Itachi halfheartedly, but he guessed Shisui had not heard him. The man was already snoring away. The younger Uchiha turned his full attention back to the booklet and began to read again.

The journal, contrary to what Miho had told him, was not comprised purely of patient data. In fact, Miho seemed to have poured out all her thoughts into this one shabby cloth-bound book. Unwise, as a shinobi and as a girl. Itachi, in one of his stalking moments, had caught sight of her Summoning the book from a scroll. Though the seals had been conducted rather dexterously despite her thoughts that she was alone, Miho's speed was still nothing compared to Itachi's, especially when his Sharingan was activated. Three seals, all different. Horse, ox, dragon. Not too difficult, really. If she was going to leave her soul so vulnerable, she really should've made the Summoning seal longer and more complicated.

Itachi had gained access to the journal easily, simply using one of his spare Summoning scrolls and thinking of precisely what he wanted to get. Traditionally, the item that had been Summoned was bound to the original scroll, but Itachi had ways and jutsu that could get around such a barrier…

The journal entries, unsurprisingly enough, sometimes if not often contained him. His name was never mentioned, as Miho had adopted her mother's habit of leaving out full names. But while patients were referred to by their surname or initials, Itachi was simply referred to as "him" or "he."

Itachi was reaching the end of the journal now, though a good half of the book still contained blank, pure pages. He had skimmed the hospital jargon – it was a bit boring for him, to be honest – and instead found interest in the ones that Miho had written deeply into. It was easy to tell which ones were the interesting ones just by looking at the text. Her handwriting would grow stilted, the ink (usually blue or black, and very rarely a light red bordering pink that was outrageously hard to read) sometimes perforating into small balls of hesitation on the paper.

Itachi blinked his eyes, getting rid of the dryness, and dragged his vision to the last and most recent entry. It was dated the day after they'd had their encounter on the bridge.

It's getting to the point where I'm scared, she wrote. Exactly why I'm frightened is beyond me. I am a capable individual—I can protect myself and I can take down a good majority of shinobi in this village. I know my capabilities. But I've also always known that I've never been able to beat him, and most likely never will be. So lately, when he just sits there and his eyes grow extremely cold—colder than I've ever seen anyone's eyes to be, and it's strange that it'd be him to have such cold depth…he's not a cold person—and so if he turns to me after a momentary lapse into this iciness, it startles me. I feel like I see a completely different person, someone who's not him, and that's when I know one hundred percent that he is definitely hiding something, something dark and shadowed. I can tell.

I can read him now. He is still cautious around me, he still keeps up his guard, but I can sure as hell read him better than I could before. And I know he is hiding something he doesn't want to hide, because sometimes he just looked at me with an expression that was like imploring me to ask "What's wrong?" so he had a reason to spill it out. But when I do ask—when I did ask…he pushed me away. I am not stupid. I am proud. I know when he's giving me a signal. And even if I don't like it—even if I wanted to punch him in the face or kick him in the groin and poke him in the eyes just because—I know when to take a signal, and I'll go away.

But…I wish. I just wish.

Sometimes I feel like our relationship is so one-sided, like I'm the only one being exposed with all my insecurities and troubles. He has a way of making me confide, confess, and before I realized it, I had no more cards to play. He's still an enigma to me, even though I've gotten better at reading him, but I wish he would willingly open up. I wish he would know that I'm not there to harm him, not there to make him question himself. I…I just don't want to be the only one feeling this vulnerable.

Otou-san is glad I'm back at home now. He has been the kindest he's been in years. Considerate, perfectly fine with my being at the hospital now that I'm no longer seeing him…I can't say that it hasn't been a good change. It's nice to have a parent.

Itachi rubbed his eyes, flipping cautiously to the next page to make sure there were no more entries. The page was thankfully blank, and he let out a breath of relief. It wasn't like he didn't feel guilty reading it…it was just a good way for him to check up on Miho.

Itachi resealed the explosive notes to the journal—they had been rather cleverly designed to not hurt the journal itself but only the perpetrator reading it—and unraveled the Summoning scroll. He bit his thumb, drawing blood, and painted the appropriate seal on the blank white sheet in front of him. Muttering a quiet mantra under his breath, he placed the journal in the center of the scroll, performed the necessary seals, and the journal disappeared with a quiet pop and white puff of smoke.

The young Uchiha sighed, resting his head against the tree he was leaning on and looked up at the sky. The high treetops, swaying gently in a light wind, allowed a mere bit of moonlight to shine into Shisui's and his camp. His elder cousin was already snoring away, his contentment only at its maximum because he could trust Itachi's abilities.

Miho was incorrect – she still had plenty of cards to play when it came to dealing with Itachi, which was precisely why he had pushed her away so adamantly. She was very much capable of challenging him, wavering him, and he could not afford to be swayed – the mission for the Hokage was one that he absolutely could not fail. Being around Miho increased the chances of that failure occurring multifold.

Itachi let his eyes flutter closed but remained on guard, his senses expanding to encompass the area for any lurking and unwelcome chakra.

He and Shisui were on a follow-up mission to the one that Itachi and Miho had first been assigned. That rather disastrous but somehow successful fiasco of a mission now seemed years ago, at a time where he was infinitely less troubled. Itachi and Shisui were supposed to infiltrate the village once again and check the scrolls to make sure that there were no further spies in Konoha. It was, however, much less easy than it was supposed to be before to sneak in the village—security had been beefed up after their last infiltration. Itachi and Shisui, however, were two of the most talented shinobi in Konoha. It would not be terribly difficult, he hoped.

When a few hours passed and dawn began to make its subtle entrance into the sky, Itachi did not wake Shisui up for his shift. He just let everything stay still as he let his presence melt into nature and its quietness.

"Itachi, you should've woken me up," chastised Shisui when he saw Itachi yawn for a second time in one minute. "Pulling an all-nighter before village infiltration? Not the smartest move, you know."

"I'm f-fine," said Itachi, unable to stifle yet another yawn. "You just take the front—I'll follow up."

"Seriously, Itachi," said Shisui sternly, "this is a bit worrisome. You're not like this most of the time—this kind of behavior is reckless."

"Shut up, please," muttered Itachi.

"I'm not saying that just because of last night, you know. You've been really distracted lately—and I've noticed that your behavior around the clan leaders has gotten awful…rude, almost. What's up with you, Itachi?"

"Nothing, Shisui. Absolutely nothing. Now please stop badgering me."

"Itachi…"

Itachi let out a breath and bounded forward. It was true that he was a bit tired, but he certainly had enough energy to carry out the mission. As for his behavior…he gritted his teeth as he swung over a tree branch. He had gotten a bit more insolent. He needed to control himself better…there was no way that the clan could figure out he was actually being the Hokage's double-agent, not the Uchiha's. And intelligent Shisui had already noticed the change…what if he had already mentioned it to Fugaku or another leader? What would happen then?

In fact…Itachi chanced a glance in Shisui's direction. His cousin was looking straight ahead, not noticing the surreptitious look. Was Shisui suspicious of him? For what, though?

"We go in from above," reminded Shisui as the two of them landed on the branch of a tall true that overlooked the village. The sun was beginning to fade, yielding way to the darker skies that would be illuminated by specks of stars and a giant orb of a moon. "Ready?"

"Mm."

Both of them leapt forward from the tree simultaneously, but Shisui's pace was a bit quicker. The plan had been for both of them to enter at the exact same time in order to not trigger any alarms. Unfortunately, Itachi had been slower than he'd anticipated—or hoped. His foot accidentally bent midair to the side, and the moment his body entered the range of the village, he knew by instinct that he'd snagged the trigger to a trap. Malignant chakra—lightning element—laced up his leg, numbing it and drawing blood. Sure enough, an alarm resounded through the entire village the instant he landed silently yet painfully on the roof of a house.

Shisui turned to him furiously the instant he heard the alarm.

"Itachi!"

"Fuck," said Itachi under his breath, his Sharingan already activated.

"What the hell—"

There was really no point in Shisui demanding a reason. Enemies were already surrounding them on all sides.

It was going to be another long night.


It had been a long day at the hospital. Miho had gotten home a bit late, around eight or eight-thirty p.m., surprised to find a solitary note on the dinner table and no one in the house. A cursory scan of the note told her that the Uchiha had called Hiroki in for another meeting—which were certainly more frequent as of late—and that he would be home around nine.

She sighed and moved to the kitchen, tying her hair up in a loose ponytail. Potatoes were stocked in abundance in the pantry room, so she didn't even need to think about the night's menu: baked potato soup.

Miho had just gotten the water to boil (she'd cheated a bit with a mini-Katon jutsu) when the front door to her house burst open. She turned around instantly, her kitchen knife placed in front of her as a weapon as her left hand went to the handle of the steaming pot on the stove. Scalding hot water was a very useful weapon.

There was no need for the caution, however. It was merely Hiroki who'd entered the room, his face pale and his clothes windswept. Miho raised an eyebrow.

"Something wrong, Otou-san?"

His response was immediate and startling. "Itachi failed his mission."

Miho stared. "…Surely you're joking? Didn't he go with Shisui-san? Wouldn't that be a guaranteed success?"

"You need to come with me to the hospital, Miho. Itachi needs your attention—he's severely wounded."

These reports—that Itachi had actually failed his mission and was severely injured—did not correlate at all with the profile that Miho had of him. Nevertheless, as it was apparently a matter of life or death, she let her snide comments slide and simply turned off the stove immediately. Hiroki beckoned for her to follow him, and the two of them were soon in a running pace towards the hospital.

"He was apparently distracted throughout the entire mission," said Hiroki. "Shisui said that Itachi had not slept at all the night before their infiltration—"

"…They were both awake the entire night?" said Miho wryly.

"No, Itachi did not wake Shisui for his shift."

"Why?"

"I have no idea. Shisui said that Itachi was acting abnormal anyway, but the lack of sleep worsened his concentration, and the two of them were detected the moment they landed. Shisui managed to fend his share of opponents off, but Itachi was severely wounded before Shisui could get both of them out of the village safely."

"How bad are the wounds?" said Miho, unconsciously picking up her speed.

"Chest stabs, limbs have been numbed by some sort of electric jutsu."

"That doesn't seem too bad. The medics there can take care of something so basic."

"That's not it though—they feel like he may have been poisoned."

"Symptoms?"

"He's unable to breathe, he has hemophilia, his major organs have already begun to shut down—"

"Starting when?" said Miho sharply, her speed increasing yet again.

"Ten minutes ago."

Miho did not ask any further, instead letting her easily-moving chakra flow to her legs. She rushed forward in a huge burst of acceleration, leaving her father far behind, and skidded into the ICU within seconds. The entire place was chaos, with Uchiha members scuttling left and right amidst the doctors. Miho's gray eyes scanned the scene, trying to find someone she could ask to brief her on the situation…

"Chiaki-san!" said Hana, the Nurse proctor, the instant she saw Miho. The old woman moved to her side with agility contrary to her age, grabbing Miho's wrist and tugging her further in the division. "I suspect Hiroki has already told you of the situation?"

"I just need the medical facts," said Miho as she snatched a pair of gloves from a nearby counter and snapped them on. "Where is he?"

"Here," said Hana, guiding her to a closed door surrounded by people sporting multiple Uchiha crests on their clothes. "Step aside, everyone! We need to get through!"

"How is he?" came voices from all sides. "Is Itachi all right? Will he make it? Where's Shisui—"

Miho ignored them all, forcing her way through to the door and banging it open. Uchiha members attempted to follow her in, and it was only out of self-consideration and the thought that broken fingers would just be more for her to deal with later on that she did not snap their fingers in half with the door.

With the door locked safely behind her, she looked at the scene in front of her. The room was considerably emptier than the cacophonous hallway she'd just left, instead inhabited with just a few doctors whom Miho recognized to be the directors of the hospital, Fugaku, Mikoto, Sasuke, and Shisui, who was uninjured save for a long gash on his cheek.

"What's his condition?" said Miho, ignoring the others and striding to Itachi's bedside. He was connected to various monitors and machines. His chest had two crisscrossing gashes, both critically deep, that were still flooding his torso with blood. She glanced at the monitors—his heartbeat levels were dipping down at an alarming rate.

"We don't know if it's the blood loss or the poison that's causing his levels to decelerate at this rate," said one of the doctors. "Either way, we can't close the wound because it just reopens—"

"Why?" asked Miho.

"It's the poison – it's preventing any sort of catalyzed regeneration."

"Itachi," said Miho, leaning closely over his face. "Itachi, can you hear me?"

There was no response. His eyes were closed, his breaths shallow and hardly audible. Something by Miho's arm caught her eye, and she distractedly looked down.

It was Sasuke, standing closely at her elbow, looking at his elder brother with a horrified expression.

"Nii-san…"

"Get him out of here," snapped Miho, returning her attention to Itachi.

"Sasuke, come here," whispered Mikoto.

"Okaa-san, what's happening to Nii-san—"

"Get out of here, Uchiha!" said Miho harshly.

"Sasuke, come here," said Fugaku sternly.

Miho closed her eyes, trying to think of the best course of action. Technically speaking, with the amount of blood loss, the poison should've worn off anyway. The wound itself was supposed to be the biggest issue, unless the poison was something that couldn't be bled out. She'd have to try to close the wound first, and pick up the poison as she went.

Her eyes reopened and her hands immediately went to Itachi's chest. Imbued with the friendly color of chakra, her fingers traced across the open wounds. Muscles, tissue, skin…Miho imagined them sealing back together, neatly woven to their original state…but her mental image wouldn't apply in reality—the wound would not close, the blood would not stop.

The monitor beeped alarmingly, a rapid beeping that indicated heart failure. Miho gritted her teeth, going through everything in her mental library that could save Itachi, but maybe it was because it was Itachi who was lying front of her, and she could not think of a single solution except for her own blood.

Merely giving Itachi her blood would not work – there was no way she could bleed fast enough for the volume of given blood to cover the amount that he'd lost – there was also a chance that his body would not accommodate it, and it would simply bleed out. Which left the only other option as an Ishachi carrier—assimilating his wounds.

Miho let out a deep breath.

"I'm going to take his wounds," she said to the doctor across from her. "I don't know how it works precisely, but judging from my readings, I won't be in any shape to continue the procedure. I'll close up his wounds, but it will be up to you to extract the poison – since we don't know the basis of it, we'd best use Senju Tsunade's technique for herb emulsification extraction for starters, and then you can take some of my blood for the rest of the antidote."

"But that's a considerable tax on your body—"

Miho ignored him and placed her gloved hands on Itachi's torso; she breathed in and out slowly, letting her chakra flow down her arms. She knew this process instinctively – her mother had documented the entire procedure multiple times. Miho's eyes unconsciously closed as she felt the energy leaving her, but the mental green pathway remained vivid in her mindset, and just as the green trickled to the edge of her fingertips, she emulsified it with Itachi's wounded chakra and jerked it back hastily.

Pain that erupted in her chest took her by surprise; Miho's eyes snapped open as she gasped breathlessly in discomfort, her vision focused on Itachi's wounds that were sealing up like a sewn-up hole in clothing. With every inch of his skin that repaired, though, her own pain intensified to the point where she was leaning heavily against the bed for support; Miho found herself struggling for air and support as she grew light-headed. Just a bit more, just another centimeter…she closed her eyes, her mind finding that bright green chakra line again. It was thinner, diminishing, and just as its last vestiges were about to flow out of her, Miho heard someone say, "That's enough!" as her chakra hovered at its exit before finally returning to her.

Miho collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air as she shook uncontrollably. She coughed, her mind numbed by the intense pain that was radiating all throughout her chest, and she found herself choking all of a sudden on a rising substance in her throat. Her coughing continued, this time more severely, and just as she thought she was going to die from asphyxiation, she spat blood out onto the floor of the room as the pain only grew worse.

She was beginning to see black dots in her vision, the desperate need for unconscious rest growing ever stronger, but she couldn't pass out just yet. She needed a syringe so she could draw just enough blood that would take care of the rest of the procedure; Miho attempted to stand, aiming for the steel platter that held the syringe she needed, but her legs didn't seem to be able to take it. She leaned heavily on the wall, trying to block out the screaming desire her brain was sending to just black out; someone appeared at her side, forcing her to sit back down as he looked up at the metal plate. Miho's gaze shifted up to see who had been so kind to help her instead of focusing on Itachi; much to her surprise, it was Sasuke.

"What do you need?" he asked.

"…The syringe," she breathed.

There was some clattering as he shuffled around. Sasuke reappeared in her line of vision shortly after, holding up the needle.

"This?"

"Mm…" she said wearily, taking it from him and positioning it on her left wrist. Her right hand was shaking so badly, though, that she could not catch her vein.

Again, it was Sasuke who helped. He took her hand in his and stabilized it, positioning right over the very prominent blue line.

"Here?" he questioned.

"Mm."

"How much?"

"Just…a little…"

"Tell me when to stop," he said seriously.

Slowly and with steadiness, Sasuke inserted the needle into her wrist. Miho nodded slightly when the needle was halfway in, causing Sasuke to stop and pull out the upper pump. The pain was completely insignificant in comparison to everything else she was feeling, but she winced regardless, nodding vigorously when just the right amount of blood had appeared in the tube.

Sasuke removed the needle gently and tottered up to a doctor, handing it over with some indistinct instructions. The doctor took it, and Miho felt relief wash over her. Itachi was going to be fine.

With the self-reassurance, she let herself grow unconscious.


"Don't you think it was unfair that they weren't helping her?"

"Sasuke, that—"

"She was helping Nii-san, and when she fell, the doctors didn't care."

"Because she had been expecting it, and the doctors knew that Itachi was in graver danger—"

"It's still not fair – she was coughing up blood and everything."

"They got her safely to another room shortly after, Sasuke. She's fine."

"Still…"

Itachi opened his eyes slowly, seeing first thing the now familiar scenery of the hospital ceiling. An audible exhalation escaped from him, causing the inhabitants of the room to look at him.

"Itachi!" said Mikoto breathlessly, rushing over to his bedside. "Thank goodness you're all right."

"Nii-san," grinned Sasuke, popping up right in front of him. "Feeling better?"

Itachi mustered a little smile and tousled Sasuke's hair gently.

"Never been better, Sasuke."

"Good," said the younger Uchiha with satisfaction. "Now we know that Miho's blood worked."

"…Miho?" said Itachi quizzically, already dreading the answer to his inquiry.

"How else do you think you managed to survive, Itachi?" said Mikoto. "You were in terrible condition – she had to assimilate the flesh wounds and then give you additional blood to address the poison."

Itachi grimaced. "Are all Konoha doctors completely incompetent that they have to rely on a fourteen year-old girl's kekkei genkai?"

"Quite the contrary," said a voice from the doorway sternly. "The question is whether you are so incompetent that you could not even get one mission completed successfully."

Fugaku approached them, his expression contrasting from his tone. He looked extremely relieved to see Itachi awake and functioning, and it seemed that the lecture was only just a necessary statement.

"Otou-san," greeted Itachi placidly.

"How are you feeling, Itachi?"

"…Rather good, actually."

"…Good to hear. You should rest for an additional day, regardless – after that, however, we have much to discuss."

Itachi could feel his stomach drop. His situation was only going to take a turn for the worse – he knew that Shisui would've informed Fugaku and the clan elders about his distractedness throughout the entire mission. Coupled with his insolence over the past few days, Itachi was going to be seriously questioned – both in his capabilities as well as his loyalty to the clan.

"Hey, hey, Nii-san," said Sasuke. "Miho still ended up waking before you."

"…Was she hospitalized?" said Itachi.

"Mm. For just one night though – she ended up going home the next day. I think her dad's taking care of her there."

"She and Hiroki will be here soon," said Fugaku. "I've already notified them of your awakening – I thought it would be good for her to conduct the follow-up herself."

"That's not necessary; it would be just a hassle…"

"Nonsense," said Fugaku.

Just as if on cue, there was a knock at the door, followed shortly by Hiroki's entrance into the room.

"Ah, Hiroki. Good timing," said Fugaku. "…Is your daughter not with you?"

"Miho's still been working her shifts at the hospital despite her weakened condition. She had a night shift last night, so I insisted that she stay in to rest," replied Hiroki, directing his statement nearly accusingly at Itachi.

"…Is she feeling all right?" asked Itachi.

"I don't know," said Hiroki coolly. "It was her first time taking the Ishachi to the next level; I cannot be sure what degree her repercussions have amounted to."

"I'm sure she'll be fine," said Mikoto encouragingly. "It's phenomenal, her abilities. The doctors said they'd forgotten just how magical the Ishachi is."

"Let's also hope they don't forget the price it comes at," muttered Hiroki.

"Certainly not," assured Fugaku. "Miho's health will be taken into top consideration once she is properly adopted into the Uchiha culture…but that is a discussion for another time. Itachi, the clan elders would like to meet solely with you and Shisui tomorrow morning. Be ready by then."

Itachi could feel Hiroki's eyes still linger on him condemningly as he answered.

"I'll be there."

He half-wished that he had died. There was no point in accumulating only more guilt.


"And then, after that, the teacher said that I was doing really well in the class and that my shuriken throwing had gotten way better," said Sasuke enthusiastically. "Do you think so, Miho?"

Miho unconsciously smiled. "Yeah, it has. You improve fast."

Sasuke positively glowed at this quiet compliment and launched at rocket speed back into another detail-by-detail account of his class that day at the Academy.

Ever since Sasuke had helped her at the hospital, Miho had felt the antagonism for him decrease dramatically. The fact that he had been able to see past his dying brother and see her dilemma instead had been, for lack of a better word, touching. She also couldn't deny that Sasuke's clamor for attention reminded her strongly of herself, back in her Academy days when she had so obstinately demanded her father's praise. Sasuke, like herself, was overshadowed by Itachi, and Miho knew exactly how it felt to be neglected.

It had been a week since Itachi's discharge from the hospital. In that week, judging from Sasuke's daily "Life in the Uchiha Household" reports, Itachi had quietly turned fifteen, and Sasuke's seventh birthday was also quickly approaching. Sasuke had started spending a few moments each day with Miho, finding her a more receptive listener to his dramatic encounters at the Academy than his parents or his ever-missing brother.

"It's weird, though," said Sasuke, finally sitting down on a chair as he grew short of breath from his nonstop talking. "Nii-san's never around anymore…even on his birthday, he was only at dinner, then he had to go straight to the Hokage."

"He's busy," said Miho blandly. "Do you want some oranges?"

"Yes, please," said Sasuke politely. "But he's not that busy…even Okaa-san and Otou-san said that it was abnormal."

"I don't know," said Miho, standing up from the table and making her way to the kitchen counter. "We don't really talk anymore."

"Why?"

"We feel…uncomfortable around each other."

"Does that mean you don't like him?"

"I don't know."

"…Does that mean you like him?"

"I don't know."

Sasuke frowned. "Don't you know anything?"

"Believe me, little Uchiha," said Miho wryly, "when you're around your brother, you start questioning everything you thought you did know."

"Then why'd you save him?"

"He was a patient."

"So you had to save him?"

"That's what doctors do," said Miho.

That was a lie. She had made it blatantly clear that she would only sacrifice herself for someone who mattered to her personally.

"Huh," mused Sasuke. "I would hate to be a doctor."

"Each to his own, Sasuke," she answered, placing a cleanly sliced orange in front of him. "Eat, and then go home and do your homework."

"Aw," he whined, "but it's boring at home and you can help me if I need it—"

"I'm not your babysitter," said Miho relentlessly. "Go home – I have my own homework to do too."

"But—"

"Don't bother Miho anymore than you already do, Sasuke," said a voice from behind Miho chidingly.

She whirled around, kitchen knife in hand, only to have it wrested from her instantly and to find herself inches away from Itachi as he removed his ANBU mask, revealing fully activated Sharingan.

"Whoa. Nii-san, that was so cool," gawked Sasuke.

"Where the hell did you come from?" snapped Miho, jerking back a few feet. "Why can't you just knock on the front door like a normal person?"

"Because your reactions are certainly less amusing if I do," said Itachi, though he hardly looked amused at the moment. "Sasuke, would you mind going home before me?"

"But…"

"I have something to talk to Miho about," said Itachi. "Please?"

"Fine," grumbled Sasuke. "You better do my homework with me later then."

"All right, I will."

"See you later, Miho."

"Bye," she deadpanned, steadily inching away from Itachi while the door shut behind Sasuke. The moment it did, she rounded on Itachi. "Just what do you need, Uchiha?"

"I need to talk to you," said Itachi quietly.

"About what, Uchiha, because last time I wanted to talk, you certainly didn't want to—"

"Please, Miho."

Miho stopped upon seeing Itachi's expression.

He looked worn beyond his years, exhausted and twisted and slightly convoluted in a way that made her shudder. He collapsed in the seat in front of her, his hands massaging his head as he let out a drawn breath, quietly, almost desperately. Miho hesitated, and then approached him softly. Before she could sit down, however, he suddenly grabbed her hands, gripping them tightly in his and bringing them to the sides of his head.

"…Itachi?" she said, her voice unwillingly coming out as a whisper.

He didn't answer, simply rubbing her hands over his head rhythmically, as if doing so alleviated some terrible pressure in his mind.

"Itachi?" she said again, her voice stronger this time. "What's wrong?"

He looked up at her, slowly, and when he did, it was thankfully with his much more friendly black colored irises.

Regardless, Miho shuddered involuntarily. She could not help it. Because whatever she had been running unconsciously from, from any bad news that Itachi was hiding, she knew he was about to spill it all out now. That he had gotten to the breaking point and could no longer bear it all himself.

She gripped his hands tightly, accepting, waiting, with bated breath.


"…So you are saying that the Uchiha no longer trust you as fully as they did before," said the Sandaime slowly.

"Forgive me," said Itachi quietly. "It seems that I have not been checking my behavior around the elders, and, coupled with the fiasco of the last mission, my standing amongst them has dropped."

"Foolish," said Danzo coldly. "How can a prodigy possibly not know how to mask his emotions? Pathetic that they exist at all."

"Enough," said the Sandaime sternly. "It is fine, Itachi. Just be careful from now on – make sure not to stir up their suspicions any further. Is there anything else, other than what you have already relayed to us?"

Itachi hesistated. The village leaders sensed it.

"Tell us, Itachi," said the councilwoman.

"I have a reason to suspect that Uchiha Shisui is keeping tabs on me," said Itachi in a low voice.

"Your cousin? Shisui of the Body Flicker?"

"The same."

"Well, that's troublesome," mused the Sandaime. "He's…perceptive."

"Too perceptive," agreed the councilman.

"Throw him off as much as you can, Itachi," said the Sandaime. "Be especially careful now – we cannot have you be caught."

"I understand."

"Should you not be able to…" said the Sandaime slowly.

Itachi's heart lurched.

"Kill him," said Danzo coolly.

His heart convulsed. But the words were out of his mouth before he could possible take them back, or even meditate on them.

"I understand."


He'd left the Hokage's office in near delirium – his orders were to kill Shisui, to kill his cousin, to kill his best friend, the childhood friend with whom he'd completed so many missions with, the man who had just saved his life a week ago! Kill Shisui? Impossible. It was impossible.

This entire role was becoming impossible. He could not do it anymore, could not keep up the double-agent façade any longer – he wanted to pass on the role, let someone else take the burden, just as long as he didn't have to stare at his family at the dinner table thinking about the best way to kill them, didn't have to suffer under the orders of killing his best friend, didn't have to carry the sacrifices of the entire village and his clan.

He needed help. He needed someone to tell him what was right and wrong, someone to tell him what he needed to do, whom he should help, whom he should obey – he could not do this alone anymore, he could not do this at all.

Whom to go to? Whom to burden? Whom to condemn?

The answer came as naturally to him as his Sharingan.

Miho. Always Miho. Miho, with whom he shared some blind sort of chemistry, Miho, who was right in safely assuming that she was the one who could read him best, Miho, who was so openly selfish and yet had taken the toll of his lethal wounds a week ago despite his desperate attempt to push her away.

She would know. She was impartial. She would know.

So as Itachi sat in her dining room, with her hands in his clamping his pounding temples, he decided to tell her. One step forward in the path to selfishness.

Time to share the burden.


Free Talk:

Soooooooo sorry for the long wait. Let's see...in the time since I last updated, I've been in college for a while (my first semester is almost finished! But not quite with finals growing ever uncomfortably closer). Needless to say, college has been insanely busy. Whoever believes that college gives you infinite amounts of time is quite frankly wrong, because you could never be more pressured for time here.

I had quite a bit of this chapter typed up for a while but never had the time or energy to finish it. Only after a very nice review from a recent reader did I remember that I had most of this written up, so I thought I might as well finish it and give it to you all as a belated Thanksgiving present. So sorry for the wait, but I did make it a bit longer than normal, and I do hope you enjoy it.

There will be a livejournal entry soon~

As always, it'd be wonderful if you could leave a review. :) I really will try my utmost best to update as soon as I can.

xoxo,

m.n