It had been close to a month since Senju, Uchiha and Uzumaki had sealed their alliance, and as June went on a heatwave just as unprecedented hit Konoha. The sun-bathed streets had been deserted, just like the few shops that stubbornly refused to close their doors. But today was different. Many defied the heat to contribute to Lady Mito's birthday festivities, whether through volunteering their skills or offering their services and goods at a special price, if not for free.
Kuwa seldom left the cool comfort of her home. There was little need, as the preceptors and the rare Uchihas willing to bond with her would be the ones to come visit her, the new matriarch of their family. Though clumsy at first, adjusting to this new identity proved very quick, as at last privilege and prestige were coming her way. She was no longer a forgotten branch family member but the mistress of a powerful clan, and she well intended to embrace her status to the fullest.
Bringing a chilled drink to her lips she directed her gaze to the kitchen, where Hitara was pounding a handful of fragrant ingredients in a mortar. The gesture was precise and controlled, guided by this deep focus that the Uzumaki often envied. Not that she was easily distracted, but she lacked patience, this precious virtue that many things in her old life required from her. She still had to work on it regarding her husband, but for everything else, she need not to worry. Her most prized possession, her trusted maid would be there for her.
"Is it ready?"
"Nearly done, my Lady."
"Good."
Kuwa returned to glancing at the scorched world outside. Suffocating heat was part of the dangers a shinobi could encounter, but it was something else that brought Hashirama and Madara to their knees for the first time in years. Days after the much awaited Five Nations' council, on their way back to Konoha, both contracted scabies. She and Mito lost no time and worked towards distributing the necessary food, medicine and items to the quarantine camp outside the village. They held this on for weeks, until at last both clan leaders were allowed to return home. Madara had not yet fully recovered, but with the help of physicians and her servant, Kuwa knew it was only a matter of days before her husband was back to his prime.
She stood up as Genjiro entered the room. "My Lady, Lord Madara is ready for his treatment."
"Alright. You may go."
He bowed and walked out. Hitara was to follow him, having already arranged the bowl of medicine and a jar of the ointment she just made onto a small tray, ready to be taken to her master.
"Wait." Kuwa ordered. "I'll go. You stay and wait for Izuna." The servant gave her a questioning look, one she dropped as Kuwa forcefully took the tray from her trembling hands. "Yes, my Lady." was all she could mutter before returning to the kitchen. Satisfied with this answer, Kuwa hurried to the second floor.
She paused when she reached the door to her husband's apartments and took some time to gather herself up. Her fingers went to tuck loose hairs behind her ears, then ran on her cheek to feel the powder of her make-up. No need to pinch them red, a hot flush had already taken care of that. At last, her hand reached for the handle and slid the door slightly open. "Madara?" She called softly.
His chakra aura flared the moment she spoke his name, as if stirring awake from slumber. Kuwa invited herself in, and to her surprise found her husband sitting on the bed, his naked back exposed to her. Her gaze quickly escaped the scene and instead focused on his bedside table. "It's been a while. How do you feel?"
"I'm good." He replied flatly.
She handed him the bowl of medicine. "I can't imagine how awful it must have been. Itching like crazy day and night."
His lips curled into a smirk as he swirled the dark liquid in the bowl, watching his reflection breaking on the surface. "I've known worse." He said before downing it in a single, feature-twisting gulp. "Bitter."
"All good medicines are." She added.
She went on to trade the empty bowl for the ointment but paused as she heard him move. Still bent over the table, her hand clenched around the edge, she glanced behind and saw him with both arms ups, slowly stretching the muscles of his upper body. He kept hold of her attention as his hands ran up his nape, taking with them his luscious mass of hair and keeping it in place on top of his head. "I'm ready." He said, noticing she had not returned.
The tension in her body failed to dissipate as she sat on the edge of the bed to apply the medicine on his back. With a small bamboo stick she scooped a dollop of paste, and before it got to touch a single lesion her gaze stopped on a scar on his shoulder. It blended relatively well with healthy skin, yet something about its shape, about those raised patterns on the edges puzzled her.
She had seen it before.
"It's okay if you're uncomfortable. I can call for Hitara."
"No need." She blurted out. "It's just… I wasn't expecting something like that." With those words, she began applying the paste.
He shuddered at the contact of the cold substance. Kuwa took her time at first and made sure every red spot had been treated, but had to hurry when she got to work on his sides. The bell outside had just rung three, less than an hour before the feast was to begin.
"I saw the gift you picked. It's lovely." She said as she went to wash her hands in the adjacent bathroom.
He grabbed a large quantity of ointment with two fingers and went on to applying it messily on his torso. "Hashirama hinted she liked jewelry. I trusted our craftsmen with the rest."
"It'll go beautifully with the fall kimono the Hyugas are bringing."
"Another kimono?" He shook his head. "Pompous..."
"You didn't say that when they gifted us jars of their finest wine at our wedding."
He turned to stare at her, surprised by the unusually playful tone she used. One move too much perhaps, as she immediately lowered her head. "Forgive me. I spoke out of turn."
She remained frozen in front of him, her hands wrapped tightly around a roll of gauze. His mouth opened, ready to form words that had not yet come to his mind. It took him a few seconds of being stuck in this position to make a move he hoped appropriate: He raised a hand and rested it on hers. "You didn't." He added, which seemed to rid her of tension.
"That's good then." She replied through a prudent smile. "Here. Allow me."
He stood still as she bandaged his torso and shoulders, a necessary step to prevent the ointment from staining his hakama, which she helped him put on. Madara then left for the bathroom. She waited by the bed, sometimes lending an ear to the profanity he spoke aloud when his hair refused to behave.
His hair was the first thing that caught her eye when he reappeared in the room. He had pulled it into a ponytail, surely to feel more comfortable in this sweltering weather. Adding to that their light, more casual clothing and modest choice of accessories, she and Madara looked like one of those young commoner couples strolling the streets of Konoha hand in hand.
She turned away from him. "We should go."
"We should." He answered while taming a few rebel locks. Before they left, he went to the cabinet next to his bed and withdrew an oak basket. A quick inspection confirmed Mito's gift had remained untouched inside, safely nestled in its own velvet box.
As he left the room, Kuwa's gaze found his right shoulder again. The one with the scar. Her mind churned as she followed in his steps.
Who among the Uzumaki had dealt such a blow to the great Madara Uchiha?
Kuwa clung to her husband's arm, trying her best to shield her eyes from the harsh light the dirt path reflected. Though she had anticipated going outside would not be a pleasant experience, she did not expect it to be a fight to keep her composure. The umbrella Hitara held above her certainly helped, but this vicious heat still managed to make her head spin. "Lower, Hitara." She commanded as she brought her handkerchief to her forehead, on which small beads of sweat had formed. Madara, to her surprise, seemed unbothered by the heat. At least the joyful conversation he was having with his brother supported that affirmation.
Fortunately the torture would soon come to an end. The Hokage's residence was in sight, and so were the servants ready to welcome them with a fresh drink on the covered terrace. As soon as she found shelter under the thick linen, Kuwa reached for the first cup within her reach and eagerly drank her fill.
They were then ushered into the building where a cool, soothing air welcomed them. Kuwa sighed in delight behind closed lips. There was no way she'd leave this place before nightfall.
"Good afternoon, my friends!" Kuwa jumped when the Hokage's voice filled the hall.
"Hashirama!" Madara greeted him as he got pulled in an embrace. His calm demeanor however was lost the moment he laid eyes on the figure leaning on a nearby pillar. "Tobirama." He spoke as if the name would make his tongue rot. The latter only bothered with a nod.
"And Kuwa, dear! How good to see you." He said as she greeted him with the usual decorum. "How are things in the manor? I trust you're being taken good care of."
"Everything is going great." She answered. "Life in Konoha is very different from Uzushio, but it's growing on me."
"That's wonderful."
"What about Mito?" Kuwa asked looking over his shoulder. "Is she already seated?"
Hashirama's cheerful mood turned into one of gloom, a shift so sudden Kuwa wondered if she had offended him. "She's still in her room." He admitted. "She said she'd come in ten minutes, but it's been half an hour now and still nothing. I sent a maid to inquire about her, but she came back alone and without any explanation."
"Dismissed?" Kuwa asked.
"Maybe. I don't know."
"What about Satsu?"
"She's busy in the kitchen."
Kuwa glanced at her husband knowingly before stepping forward. "I can go check on her. If there's something wrong, I'll know what to do."
"Thank you, Kuwa." He said as he pulled himself back together. "We'll be waiting for you."
"Alright." She nodded before turning to Hitara. "Bring the basket to Aika. She's expecting you."
"Yes, my Lady." The maid replied before she hurried to the back of the building.
The walk to find Aika wasn't a peaceful one. While the Hokage tower was host to important figures in the village, its basement was a hive of servants. Day and night and even more so today, its narrow and dim-lit corridors resounded with the footsteps and voices of dozens. Hitara was no stranger to such place, but still struggled to dodge her way through waves of busy servants, while making sure the precious basket suffered no damage.
The final set of stairs led her to a hall where she found the entrance to the kitchen, supposedly where Satsu was. There was her chance. Surely Satsu would know where to find Aika, and she could use this occasion to catch up with her friend, as quickly as possible of course.
Hitara pushed the heavy door open, only to immediately recoil at the thick steam hitting her face. A quick wave of her hand sufficed to recover her sight, enough to spot her friend. "Satsu!" Hitara yelled in the busy kitchen. The maid's head rose and a bright smile appeared on her face. "Hitara, wait for me outside!" She yelled back.
Satsu joined her minutes later, rid of her apron and gloves, and hugged her way too tight. "Hitara! I'm so happy to see you!" She said, her joyous tone resounding within the hall. "Where have you been? I barely saw you these past few weeks."
"I was busy." Hitara answered. Before she said more, she grabbed Satsu's arm and brought her to a corner, away from the servants' incessant coming and going. "Things have been complicated at the manor, especially since Lord Madara's illness."
The maid's face flushed red. "Do the other servants treat you badly? Or is it the Uchiha?"
"No, no they don't."
"What is it then?"
Hitara hushed the young maid whose questions had attracted some attention, and leaned in to mutter her explanation. "Ever since I've been promoted to chief maid it's been-"
"Chief maid?" Satsu interjected, astounded.
"Yes, chief maid. Promoted just like that, and in front of the entire clan no less." The exasperation grew in Hitara's voice with every word. "I don't know if Lord Madara genuinely placed his trust in me or did it just to spite the Elders, but what I know is that I'm terrible at what I'm doing."
Satsu watched as her friend rested her back on the wall and heaved a long sigh. "You are or you feel terrible?" She asked.
The young maid stared at her, her fingers knitted behind her back, waiting with a grin for the obvious answer. Hitara smirked. Of course she'd know. They had served together for years after all. "Feels." The word escaped her mouth in haste.
"There you go." She held her by the shoulders and shook her gently, encouraging her to look up, and spoke with rare poise. "It's okay to feel the way you do. A lot has come to you suddenly, but I'm sure you'll feel more comfortable with time."
"Maybe."
Hitara's lack of conviction got her squeezed into another tight embrace. "You'll see. You'll learn and after a while things won't weight so much on you anymore." Satsu said before patting her back. "Besides, Madara seems to be a good master. Even if you make a mistake, I doubt he'll punish you harshly."
"He's good to me, don't worry." Hitara said before hugging her back. "But enough about me. What about you? How are the Senju?"
"Oh, they're lovely." Satsu replied, glancing at a servant struggling to keep jars of sake from spilling. "Things aren't that different than in Uzushio. The work is the same, just that people here are dressed differently and speak with a strange accent."
"And Lady Mito? How is she?"
"Well she was doing great, until today."
"Do you know what's up with her?"
"No. I haven't seen her since I was called to work in the kitchen. Hopefully she's fine." Her fingers tangled with the loose strands of her head cover. "Speaking of which, I should go back. The food won't make itself, unfortunately." She chuckled.
"I understand. What are you making?" Hitara asked as they began walking.
"An assortment of my Lady's favorite desserts! Uzushio delicacies aren't well known here and Lord Hokage was too worried the cooks would mess up, so he asked me to help supervise them." Her hands came to frame her face. "Bless his soul. He'd do anything to make her happy."
Hitara shook her head at her friend's daydreaming. "You'll find yourself a man like that."
"Oh I hope so."
The pair stopped before the kitchen, where they shared a quick laugh over the high-pitched, broken shouting of the head chef. "Thank you for coming." Satsu said. "I'll see you in the dining hall."
"Wait, do you know where Madam Aika is?"
"Last time I saw her she was in the common room." She replied before waving her goodbye. The maid had barely turned around that Hitara began walking away.
With little time left to fulfill her task she rushed to the servants' quarters, which left her breathless by the time she reached the common room. She leaned against the wall for a moment to try and regain some composure before she announced her presence. Aika was indeed in there, given away by her deep, warm voice singing the verse of a popular folks' song. The glory of the gods celebrated by the souls they created, sung by those yearning for their master's glory, often in the hopes to reap some of that glory for themselves.
Hitara didn't yearn for glory. Never did. All she could yearn for at this stage was a decent life, which would come if she served her mistress well.
She'd have to. She couldn't bear the consequences otherwise.
Hitara quickly suppressed these thoughts from her mind and stepped in the room, reluctantly putting an end to the Senju maid's ballad.
"Mito?" Kuwa called after knocking. "May I come in?"
No answer. But Mito was in here. She could feel her chakra flaring at irregular intervals, and it didn't react any different to her name being called a second time. Kuwa had expected the door to be locked, but found no resistance as her hand turned the handle. Still attentive to the flow of chakra ahead, she let herself in.
No sign of Mito. Instead, she was met with a room one could assumed had been ransacked. Chests and drawers had been left open, partially emptied of their content which now consisted of piles scattered across the room. All kinds of clothes, from the fine kimonos to the casual yukatas, to the belts and sashes and shoes, everything was turned upside down. Accessories hadn't been spared either, that she discovered as she almost crushed a necklace under her heel.
Kuwa ended up finding her cousin in the side room, sitting in front of her dressing table. Mito was pretty much ready to go, except for her make-up that she seemed to greatly struggle with. Her left hand was wrapped around her wrist in an attempt to stop her other hand from shaking. A vain move, as the line she was tracing above her lashes still ended up deviating, causing her to silently rage.
"Mito?" Kuwa called softly. Mito didn't answer or turn to her, but let a long sigh escape her painted lips and returned the brush to the table. Taking this as acknowledgement of her presence, Kuwa walked to her and kneeled to her level. "How are you?"
"I'm fine." She replied, though her tone said otherwise. Still without a glance for her cousin, Mito snatched the heavily stained cotton cloth floating in the basin next to her and used it to wipe her eyes clean.
"The maid could have helped you with that." Kuwa added.
"I didn't let her in."
"How so?"
"Nobody needs to see my room in this state." A hint of annoyance had sipped into her voice, the same hint that tainted the movement of her hand reaching for the brush and coal paste jar. "I bet Hashirama is worried enough as it is. He doesn't need to know I'm that incapable at choosing an outfit."
After a quick warming-up of her wrist, Mito dipped the tip of the brush in the black paste and raised it to her face. She had not yet traced the first line that Kuwa's hand came to stop hers. "Let me." She said. Mito glared at her. Her lips parted to protest, but Kuwa hushed the attempt. "It will be quick, I promise."
Mito huffed at her before replying with a grumbled "Fine."
She followed Kuwa's lead and turned away from the mirror. Kuwa sat beside her, and after tracing a few practice lines on top of her hand, she prompted her to close her eyes.
"It has nothing to do with outfits, right?" Kuwa spoke quietly as she began her work.
"No."
Kuwa nodded to herself. Already as a child, Mito knew what she wanted. When she became the heiress of the clan, when tragedy struck, when she was betrothed, she knew what to do, and would do things her own way always. Such a trivial outfit matter could not possibly put Mito in that kind of state. "What's the matter then?"
She inhaled deeply, an air of defeat piercing through her dignified façade. "Something silly, really." Her lips pinched together. "I wish I could not go."
"To your own birthday party?"
"Told you it was silly."
"Not at all. Some people hate being the center of attention."
"Except it's not that." She stood still as Kuwa traced her eyebrows. "Hashirama put a lot of effort into this party. It made him so proud and happy that I didn't dare interfere. But in truth I would have prefered something smaller, more intimate."
"I see. That's understandable."
"That or nothing at all. In the end it's the same. Those missing will be missing anyway."
Kuwa stared at her cousin and paused for a moment. Hashirama had invited many to this party, most from his own clan as well as other prestigious clans. Then there were the citizens of Konoha and the mountain of their gifts waiting to be brought to her chambers. All rejoiced as they spoke, all celebrated her, but the ones that mattered the most would never come. Even the god of shinobis himself could not make that miracle happen.
"Mito." She said, gently lifting her head up. "Today is your day. It's not about appearing in public or entertaining guests or even be the Senju lady. It's about you enjoying yourself the way you want, and there is nothing wrong with that." Her hand came to rest on her shoulder. "Look at me. You're not doing anyone wrong."
Mito took a breath in for words she didn't manage to speak. Instead she nodded, which prompted Kuwa to continue. "If it feels too much, you can excuse yourself at some point after food is served. I'll vouch for any reason you choose to give."
"Alright." Mito replied. "I guess food cannot hurt. I'm starving."
"And tell Hashirama next time. I'm sure he'll understand." She said backing up a few steps to better study her work. Mito waited for her approval, her hands bunching up the fabric of her yukata. After what felt like forever, Kuwa came back beside her. "I'd change the color of your lips. This shade isn't very flattering."
She dug into a pocket in her skirts and retrieved a small red pouch, from which she grabbed a small, round porcelain box. The inside was nearly empty, except for a thin layer of red rouge paste in which Kuwa rubbed the tip of her finger.
"Is this…?" Mito asked, pointing at it. Kuwa confirmed her guess with a nod. Instantly, her eyes lit up and she smiled tenderly. "Camellia. She loved this color. She'd wear it all the time, and would constantly ask you for more."
"And I'd happily oblige." Kuwa added as she removed the peach color on Mito's lips. "I remember you scolding her for licking it off her lips."
Mito chuckled. "That was a terrible habit. She'd get it all over her teeth."
"Careful, almost got some on yours." She said through a grin. "And… there you go. Come on, look!"
Reluctantly, the Uzumaki turned on her chair to meet with her image, her hands already raised as if ready to shield herself from a dreadful sight. She opened her eyes slowly, and to her surprise found nothing dreadful in this reflection. Just herself, pretty in the colors she had not dared wearing in months. "It's beautiful." She muttered to Kuwa, who had touched up her own make-up.
"Great!" Kuwa said before grabbing Mito by the shoulder. "Are you ready?"
"What about the mess?"
"I'll find someone to take care of that."
Mito approved, and went to study once more this new yet so familiar face of hers. Bold and radiant, just the way it used to be. Even though drops of guilt still found their way to her heart, Mito managed a smile. For one day, she could try and allow herself to be herself.
"Let's go."
The musician's hands ran on the strings of his koto at a speed the dancer had no trouble keeping up to. Dressed in light satin the color of cherry blossoms, her hair adorned with a crown of fragrant flowers, she kicked and spinned to the traditional music of Uzushio, which to many present today was a novelty. Her moves, graceful and precise, spoke of youth eternal. Forever beautiful and loved like the colorful spring, a wish that the Land of Whirlpools sent through this talented woman.
The familiar notes of the outro began in all their splendid complexity, yet Mito couldn't find the strength to beat the frantic rhythm like she would always do. The pounding of drums resounded in her head like an echo of pain, while the high-pitched melodies of flutes melted into one string of noise messing with her ears. Even the endless spinning of the dancer twisted her stomach the longer she watched her.
As the music exploded, the woman came to a perfect still, her arms outstretched like the wings of a bird ready to take flight. The crowd applauded, some out of politeness, others out of delight, but none as enthusiastically as Hashirama. "Bravo!" He cheered to the dancer and musicians, who exited the room after giving their goodbyes. "What a fantastic performance. The Land of Whirlpools definitely holds true to its reputation."
"Arts are an important part of our culture." Kuwa added once the clapping died down and Hashirama returned to his chair. "Mastering one takes dedication and resilience, which are qualities held in high regard in our society."
"As they should." He replied, his gaze settling on the sake being poured into his cup. "I didn't have the privilege of learning any kind of art myself, but I hope we can work towards offering this opportunity to everyone who wants it."
"I think this is a great idea." Izuna declared, making many heads turn in his direction. "Not only for civilians, but for our students too. They could benefit from a broader choice of disciplines."
Tobirama scoffed. "Nonsense. The Academy's purpose is to train shinobis. Burdening them with classes they don't need is a waste of time."
"And how would you know that?" Madara interjected. "Didn't you give up teaching a while ago?"
"I know enough, Uchiha."
Hashirama extended a hand between them, causing both men to back off. "Gentlemen, please." He spoke in stern tones, his piercing gaze lingering on his brother. As soon as Tobirama complied and sat back down, the Hokage's stance relaxed. "I say we save this conversation for later and begin the feast. What do you think, dear?"
Mito stirred from her nauseated state, her hands coming to feel the heat emanating from her cheeks. "Alright." She answered.
"Dear, are you okay?" He asked, his hand gently stroking her back.
"I'm okay. It's probably just hunger."
The Hokage turned to the tall man standing behind him. "Jun, let them in." He said, a hint of impatience in his words. The head servant nodded and made his way out of the room.
As quickly as he left, Jun came back to the hall with a flock of servants in tow, carrying trays full of freshly baked delicacies that they brought to each table in precise unison. A smile drew on Mito's face when she recognized the traditional pastries and snacks of her native Uzushio. The citrus cakes, the hazelnut biscuits, all revived her appetite, but the best came with Satsu. With a grin stretching from ear to ear, the maid presented a plate of dorayaki to her mistress. "Happy birthday, my Lady."
"I can already tell they're delicious." Izuna said, causing the maid to blush.
"Thank you, Satsu. And thank you, Hashirama. This is wonderful."
"You're welcome, love." He replied softly. "Try them." And Mito didn't wait a second more. She grabbed the most golden and crispy looking dorayaki and took a generous bite from it.
A comforting warmth coursed through her body the moment the sweet, rich flavors of her favorite dessert hit her tongue, putting at last an end to the roaring pain in her stomach. It was made to perfection, just the way she loved it. Uchiha and Senju followed her lead and gathered a small selection of pastries in their plates to start with, contrary to Izuna who picked up every pastry within his reach.
Little by little as trays and cups emptied, mannered discussions grew into a loud mingling of chatter and laughter. Even the Hyugas, who had initially declined the invitation, exchanged a few pleasantries with guests of other noble clans. The Senju servants, diligent as ever, hurried between tables, heavy jars of liquor in hand ready to pour one more serving after the other.
Hashirama stared at this scene unfolding before him. The coordinated procession of servants, faces that openly displayed joy and amusement, all captured his attention with the same delight. The wonder of clans celebrating together only appealed to him though, as Tobirama preferred discussing jutsus with the Sarutobi Elder, and the Uchihas focused on the next batch of food the servants had brought them.
"What did they do with those?" Izuna asked holding a fig.
"They're cooked in sugar syrup." Kuwa replied, taking one for herself and one for her husband, whose plate had so far contained only a few biscuits.
"No, thank you. I don't have much of a sweet tooth." He replied when she offered him the candied fruit.
"What about you, Mito? Would you-" Her words died out when she met with the worrying sight of her cousin. Mito's face had gone pale, and her entire body was shaking despite the warm ambient air. Her hands rested on her stomach as her chest heaved short breaths.
"Hitara, Satsu, take-" It was all Kuwa could say before Mito's body convulsed violently, causing her to regurgitate her meal.
"Mito?" Hashirama rushed to her, drawing the room's attention on their table as he did. "What happened?"
"I don't know, my Lord." Satsu replied in a wavering voice.
She and Hitara placed themselves on each side of Mito, ready to accompany her outside, but as soon as the latter tried to get up by herself she collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
"Mito!" Her husband called, then called again but to not avail. She remained inert in his arms, her breathing shallow and all remaining colors draining from her skin.
As close relatives gathered around their table, Madara whispered to the servants. "Make sure all guests stay in this room." He then turned to Hashirama. "We should take her to her room."
Hashirama gave a nod to his friend and glanced over his shoulder. "Jun, have the physicians come to our quarters. Tobirama, you stay with the guests. And you Satsu, come with me."
"We're coming too." Kuwa added.
Hashirama lost no more time and carried his wife under the worried stares of clansmen, followed by the maids and the Uchihas. On his way, the Hokage shouted in rare anger for the servants to move out of the way, and even louder at those that bumped into him. Madara could only run behind him, his words of reassurance being utterly powerless in the face of his friend's panicked state.
They had reached the main hall when he heard a loud thud behind him. He stopped and turned around, only to feel intense panic himself.
Kuwa laid face down, inanimate on the floor.
Hey there. It's been a while.
Truth is, my health isn't great. It's come to a point where I have to focus on getting better if I want to keep doing what I like. I'll keep writing as this story is super important to me, but for now it's safe to consider it on hiatus. Thank you so much dear readers. Take good care of yourselves.