Their catch up does not occur for several weeks into the first month of Spring.
Shisui, on last minute orders from the Hokage, was tasked with leading a group of jounins on an urgent mission. Only after two weeks does he finally return, reality seeping through with a combination of exhaustion and mounting reports.
The past week keeps him busy, his unusual anti-social nature sparks even disconcertment from Itachi. But the level of understanding they share is undoubtedly unsurpassable. Itachi never questions, only being present when he deems it necessary.
Tonight, by the warmth of the fireplace, Shisui is engaged in another ambitious game of chess. Except he senses a slight change in his competitor. Honoka is unexpectedly reserved, from the minute speaking to the very reclusive body language she displays.
Inquisitive yet respectful, Shisui refrains from prying, only asking questions that cannot be interpreted as offensive. However, Honoka's perception of what constitutes as offensive differs vastly from the 'norm.'
"Honoka, you are very quiet today, is everything okay?" He asks casually.
She takes awhile before glancing cynically from the chess board, as if the question intruded her thinking.
"Must one not be quiet when one is thinking of the next move?" She asks vacuously.
Her expression is incredibly deadpan, yet Shisui senses a trace of melancholy from beneath her gaze.
"Not in relation to the game. You are quiet in general," he replies uncertainly.
She does not return his comment until her eyes have transfixed itself back on the chess board.
"How do you measure the average amount of speaking to determine whether they are currently an outlier?"
Her question may not differ in any shape or form, yet the way she conveys is tragically haughty.
"I don't need to. I sense you are not your usual self."
At the comment, she returns her watch to him, perhaps surprised at his unexpected answer.
"Is that so?"
Her brows suddenly furrows, a strong indicator that she is deep in concentration.
And when she finally decides to speak, there is a bizarre look of what appears to be curiosity intermixed with agitation lining her demeanour.
"If you must know what the latest conundrum to my thought patterns are, I have been trying to work out the meaning of newly spawned feelings," she explains.
There is logic in every ounce of that sentence, that her attempts at comprehending feelings is just another systematic puzzle she is working to decrypt.
"Newly spawned feelings?" Shisui repeats, "What does that entail?"
"A painful sensation," she answers vaguely, and her hand is pressing against her chest.
Concerned, Shisui moves closer to observe, but Honoka startles at his sudden proximity. She backs from him with remarkable speed, her face drained of all colour brought on by the very fearful look she is giving him.
"Honoka!"
"Fine, I'm f-fine," she splutters breathlessly.
Unsure whether his presence is reinforcing her restlessness, Shisui decides to withdraw behind the table.
"Do you need to go to the hospital?" He asks anxiously.
Honoka shakes her head, her fingers still splayed shakily against her chest.
"You don't know what's causing it?"
"I am unsure," she peers peculiarly at him before staring intently at the ground.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" He asks tentatively.
"I am unsure," she repeats, "but perhaps resume our game?"
In response, Shisui stares at her in puzzlement. His inability to fathom her behaviour and accept her personality does not clear his anxiety of her sudden diminishing health. Regardless, he does not object to her atypical suggestion.
They do not speak for a long time. The game leaves their minds floating with concentration, neither noticing the sounds of receding flames that is crackling lightly against the ash filled firewood.
At Honoka's next turn, she finally looks up from the board, her features a strong representation of an inexplicable portrait painting. She is momentarily quiet as she gazes expressionlessly at Shisui, who is watching her with increasing discomfort.
"When my concentration broke, the feeling came back," she says.
Her tone is oddly harsh as she presses a hand against her chest.
"What's the pain like?" Shisui asks.
"A pressing pain," she answers, "I don't know how to remove it."
"I wish I could help," he replies sadly.
A situation he strongly dislikes, the inability to help someone when they need it most.
"I think…" she trails off before shuffling closer to him.
Surprised, he sits relatively still, hoping minimal movement would prevent any further anxiety-induced fear on Honoka's end.
Then, she is reaching for his arm before enclosing her hand around it.
"Shisui, what do you feel?"
He does not answer. The action is already baffling, let alone the bizarre question.
"What do you feel?" She repeats firmly.
"Uhh…pressure?"
Without responding to his statement, she loosens her grip on him before using the tip of her index finger to prod certain parts of his forearm and chest.
Bewildered yet curious, he continues the stillness and the absence of speech whilst surveying her closely.
"Can you do the same to me now?" She asks nonchalantly as if her request is anything but abnormal.
"What?"
"My chest pains don't hurt as much anymore, maybe if you do the same to me then it might go away completely."
When he does not stir, she hesitantly takes his hand and places it on her arm, wrapping his fingers around it like she did with him earlier.
"I am unsure of what you're trying to do, Honoka," Shisui says confoundedly.
"I feel better, and I am getting a different feeling in its place," she presses a hand to her chest as verification, "it's a strangely addictive feeling."
When he withdraws his hand, she looks to him sadly, albeit a trace of happiness lingers ever so delicately beneath her features.
"I still don't know what it is," she utters dejectedly.
Then, she is shuffling forwards, greatly closing the distance between them as her curious face hovers close.