Author's note: I should absolutely stop starting new stories, but I couldn't get this one out of my head. Let me know what you guys think!

Chapter 1: No Time

"Tell me one more." the young girl begged her friend.

"You said that three stories ago! The sun is setting!" her companion laughed.

"Amata!" she whined childishly. She arched her back for extra emphasis, curling her spine away from the ground until her body fell to its side. She carried the momentum onto her stomach, lying flat against the soft grass. She stared at the top of her friend's head, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. Her hands danced across the viridian blades, arms snaking up over her head to Amata's black locks. She slipped her fingers between the prongs of her kanzashi and hooked the wooden hairpin.

"Umika!" Amata reached for her bun, but it was too late. Her ebony strands had been set free. She sat up and turned on her hip, holding out her hand for the pin. "Give it here."

"Come get it." Umika mocked, sitting up with a whip of her own inky waves. She tucked the hairpin into the sash of her kimono and stood, bolting towards the village.

"You're not that fast!" Amata yelled after her. The serene forest was filled with the clopping of their sandals, impish giggles, and occasional kittenish squeaks when they closed in on each other. It was a game the two girls had played since they could run. Whether mountains or meadows, forests or fields, they would frolic without a care in the world. It was their time to be children. The only time they had ever been afforded for play. The rest of their days were wasted away on the battlefield. Umika's quick steps slowed as the forest faded to the gates of Village Hidden in the Leaves. She stumbled a bit when Amata crashed into her, arms tight around her waist.

"I caught you!" Amata panted, resting her forehead on Umika's shoulder. Her hands clumsily patted the sash in search of the hairpin.

"I let you catch me." Umika corrected. She watched her friend pull her long, silky hair back into a bun, securing it tightly, and checking its integrity with a shake of her head. "You're out of shape."

"Who cares." Amata shrugged, dusting off the ends her kimono. She hooked her arm with Umika's and began pulling her toward the village. "My warrior days are behind me." There was a hint of sadness in the girl's voice. It was so carefully disguised. Just when a note of it leaked from her lips, Amata had taken a breath and cleared her throat, pretending to recover from her previous run. She wasn't that out of shape. But she was a lady. And a lady never reveals her true feelings. A lady endures. A lady bears all with a faint smile. A lady suffers in silence so that peace can be maintained for the quick-tempered men and children. It was an important lesson passed down from mothers to their daughters. And perhaps that was why Umika had never learned it.

"Don't marry him." she muttered through the sting of tears. "I'll never see you again." The girls stopped just before the gate. Amata turned to her friend and embraced her.

"Hush." Amata comforted the sobbing girl. "Of course, you will. This marriage won't change anything between us. And when your turn comes, your marriage won't change things either."

"I won't get married." Umika's voice came out muffled against Amata's shoulder. She sniffled and clasped her hands tighter against her back.

"You're almost twenty-four. It's going to happen sooner rather than later." Amata pulled away and wiped the tears from Umika's cheeks. "It can be exciting, too. Who knows, maybe yours will be arranged with a Hyūga as well, and we can live in the compound together." Umika gave a weak nod, but displeasure tainted every part of her face. "Try not to look so bitter at the ceremony tomorrow." Amata joked, pinching Umika's cheek. She flinched, first from the pinch, then from the drop of rain that fell alongside it. "O, c'mon!" Amata mumbled, holding her hands over her head. "I'll see you later!" Umika watched her friend run alongside buildings, trying to take refuge from the drizzle under the smallest ledge. Umika had no such inclination. She stood motionless until the droplets built into a torrent, drenching her to the bone. She pulled up the sleeves of her kimono and walked down the streets of the village, arms outstretched, enjoying the sharp pitter patter of rain against her skin. It cleansed her nerves of the overwhelming anxiety. There was a faint memory, buried deep within the repositories of her mind, of her playing in the rain. Every time she traded the crying grey skies for the quiet indoors, she could feel it creep out from between the wrinkles of her brain to tickle the surface. Just like it did now.

"I'm home." Umika called out. She shut the door and waited for a response.

'What on earth happened to you?!' She almost expected her mother to yell. She tried to remember the voice, but it had been gone for so long. She closed her eyes and tried to think of the moment, think if her father had said anything, but his memory was even more distant. Eighteen years. Eighteen years was a long time. Like a monster, it gnawed away at the mental models of her parents. First it took their voices. Then it took parts of their faces. Lips, nose, chin, jaw, hair. Their eyes were all she could conjure now. Maybe by this time next year, those would be gone, too.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The puddle of water grew larger beneath her feet as time ticked away. She sighed and wiggled her sash loose. She stripped the layers of dress, slipping out of her shoes somewhere in between the piles of wet clothes. Umika wringed the water out of her hair. It landed on the wooden floor with a heavy slosh. She tossed the long locks over her shoulder and stood at the base of the stairwell.

"Are you home?" Her voice echoed up the narrow walls. She listened for any sound of life. The stairs creaked under her careful steps. She sucked in her breath, tiptoeing to the landing, and poked her head into the hallway. "Hello?" No response slinked out from the thrumming of rain. The room doors were all ajar. Her trapped breath came out in a long huff. She smiled, stretched out her arms, and spun in uneven circles as her feet carried her towards the first door on the left. The tips of her fingers and hair grazed past the wooden walls. Her foot landed with a heavy thud in the entrance of the room. She took in the intoxicating smell of parchment. The rain always brought it out more. Not that it was necessary. The shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. They were crammed with books and scrolls and tombs of all subjects. She glanced at the one he had been reading most recently. It sat open on the cushioned bench of the bay window, catching the faint shadows of the raindrops in its pages.

He must have run out of time. She frowned at the intrusive thought. The war was behind them, but somehow, there was even less time now than before. Umika hadn't heard from her friend Sachiko since she married Haru Yamanaka. She had seen less and less of Amata as preparations for her marriage with Sho Hyūga loomed. She turned away from the book and crawled into his unkept bed. Too busy to make his bed in the morning. She hid her naked body between the soft sheets.

'No time.'

'Maybe later.'

'Not now.'

The short excuses, delivered curtly in the quick pacing of their morning routines, echoed in her mind. She tossed and turned in the bed, trying to get comfortable. Trying to feel close to the ghost of his presence. She missed him. He was never home anymore. They never spent time together anymore. They didn't even train. Her form was getting sloppy. She didn't have the direction and drive to practice on her own. She needed him. Couldn't he see that? Didn't he care?

'No time.'

'Maybe later.'

'Not now.'

A sob hiccupped to the surface. She buried her face in his pillows, taking in the citrusy smell of his soap. It clung most prominently to his skin and hair, but in his absence, she opted to settle for the lingering trails on his bedding. It soothed her aching head and heart just enough to allow a moment of peace.