Almost immediately after Itachi began to eat, Karin slipped out of the kitchen with the promise she'd be back in a few minutes.

He hadn't felt hungry before but he quickly realized he was once he began to eat, an emptiness he'd been able to ignore until he tried to fill it. He began to catalogue the various consequences of lying around on the floor for nearly half a day without so much as moving: there was a dull ache in his head he assumed was from failing to hydrate properly, a slight tingling in his hands.

He finished quickly, before Karin returned from her errand, and found himself alone with his thoughts, without much to do but look around the kitchen, to seek out nonexistent cracks in the checkered tiles on the floor, his own warped reflection on the pots and pans stacked on the counter.

It hadn't seemed significant to him before, but it occurred to him then that the kitchen stood in stark contrast to what he had seen of the rest of the house; for all of its undeniable, unmarked perfection, it was unusually plain. Nothing grand, hardly notable.

It was, he decided, the closest any of the rooms might have come to feeling normal.

A few moments later Karin's footsteps sounded down the corridor and she walked through the door, peering slightly around the frame as if to ensure he were still there. Itachi considered it over for a moment, then decided there was no harm in remarking, "This room is different from the others."

"What?" Her face screwed up, as if he'd somehow caught her off guard.

"It is different. It… it lacks the ornamentality of the other rooms." He did not phrase it as a question exactly but looked to her expectantly, not entirely sure why it mattered but, now that he had noticed it, wondering if there might be some explanation.

Karin paused, her eyebrows drawing together. It seemed a fairly innocuous question to him, but also certainly she could recognize it as both disarming and uncharacteristic of him. "I mean, maybe a little bit." Finally her eyes turned away from him, running over the countertops and cabinet doors.

It was then that he noticed she'd brought something with her, wrapped in a charcoal-colored oilcloth. "It's just a kitchen," she remarked, looking back at him suspiciously, and then pulled back the oilcloth, holding the object out for him to see. "But I brought this."

It was a simple hand mirror, the frame and handle both made of a smooth, dark grey metal, so well polished it didn't seem possible that anyone had ever used it before; Karin hadn't even left fingerprints on it.

But of course, there had to be more to it than that. "What is it?"

"It's a mirror. A magic one." Karin placed it on the table, the glass facing upwards. "Watch."

She tapped the glass twice with her fingernail and, like a ripple of water, their reflections faded into a moving image of Karin's friend Suigetsu and an impossibly tall, orange-haired man Itachi did not recognize. The picture was so clear he might as well have been looking at them through a window; Suigetsu nudged the other man with his elbow and Itachi could see every wrinkle in his rolled up sleeves, each of the fine white hairs on his head.

But was it real?

Karin snorted and shook her head. "Of course he's bugging Juugo again." On the surface she sounded annoyed, but he could hear a strange fondness underlying it.

Whoever Juugo was, whatever Karin's friend was doing… That would have to wait for another time.

Itachi gripped the mirror by its handle and was surprised by how heavy it was, how sturdy it felt. How smooth the surface of it was. The metal was cold, almost biting in his hands but he held firm to it, shifting the angle to see if there were some trick to it, some hidden perspective he might find. Suigetsu was fussing with the enormous sword on his back, chatting at his companion, but apparently unaware that he was being watched.

Karin gestured vaguely at him. "You just need to think of a person or place and tap the glass. It'll read your thoughts and show them to you."

Itachi shifted the glass in his hands, knowing his first choice could only be Sasuke, but hating that Karin would see him too. Truly—there was no privacy where she was concerned.

But if he could see Sasuke again…

Karin leaned in further, a small smile peeking at the corner of her mouth. "Go ahead, you can use it." She looked over at him. "Don't you wanna?"

Itachi lowered the mirror gently, setting it back down on the table.

After a second thought, he flipped it over onto its front, unsure if such a tool might not somehow be watching him as well.

"What's the cost?"

Karin shrugged, a light, single-shouldered movement, but he wasn't fool enough to see it as casual. As if anticipating a drawn-out conversation, she pulled out the chair across from him and sat down, one anxious leg tucked beneath her.

Negotiation had seldom been one of Itachi's responsibilities, but he supposed most were properly conducted while one was seated.

Karin leaned forward on her arms, oddly excited. "I'm not asking much but—I want you to let me back into the library. And I don't want you to use the mirror unless I'm around. I won't drag you around the house or anything—you can stay in here or the library."

Before he could object, she held her hands up defensively. "You don't even have to do anything! I mean it. I just… You don't have to do anything," she repeated. "It's…" She hesitated, looking down at the mirror on the table. Her hand reached toward it, slim fingers tracing half-moons over the tabletop without ever touching the mirror's edges.

Her voice was soft, conciliatory. "I won't bug you while I'm there—I just… I just don't want to be all alone. I won't be in your way or anything."

Her eyes flickered up, meeting his for a brief second before dropping back down to the table. He couldn't help but remember how steady her confidence had been in the past—how bold and bright she'd been when striking deals with him. "I have stuff I want to do in there. I'll stay in there all day, if you want me to; it's big enough that we could have our own space and I know you like being in there so…"

"I haven't exactly been invited anywhere else."

Karin tugged on one of her sleeves, pulling it defensively over her knuckles. "Well. I mean, if you wanted—"

"I don't."

"Right. Right…" She swallowed whatever immediate retort was on hand and let out the remains in a sigh. "I…" Karin paused again, biting the inside of her cheek. Finally she let out a hot sigh and leaned back against the chair, drawing one hand through her hair and giving it a frustrated tug. "The mirror is tempting. It's—it's gonna show you anything you wanna see, and it's hard to look away from that."

"What does your bargain have to do with that?"

"Well. If I'm around… I'll know if something goes wrong with it, I guess. It's more fair than just naming a set amount of time you can use it. This is more… fluid. We can negotiate as we go."

"You don't think I have any self control."

Karin flushed, her cheeks almost as dark as her hair. "That's not even close to what I said," she murmured. "I think the mirror does more harm than good. It's something you can't have and watching it doesn't make it any more attainable."

"And so your plan is to fix that by forcing me to follow you around." Nothing had changed, and it was beginning to exhaust him. She had been exhausting him for far longer than that.

Karin's sharp mouth twisted into a scowl. "You don't—there isn't anything you have to do, I just think that—this is more flexible, you know? If I made it so many hours, or a certain time, something might come up and it'd be a pain. This way we can work around that stuff without—without everything being so fixed." Her shoulders slumped. "I wouldn't try to make it difficult."

"How very thoughtful of you."

"You don't like it."

"No." He didn't offer any more than that; she wasn't particularly entitled to it.

On the back of the mirror, he could see Karin's rough reflection, smears of bright red and the dark purple of her shirt, her mouth a pink blur. She shifted in her chair, the legs rocking under the table. "I just don't think it's good to, you know, be able to watch what's going on for as long as you want. Especially, ah, after yesterday and all…"

"I don't care what you think."

"Right. Of course." She was fiddling with her sleeves again, nails tugging at perfectly arranged seams. There was a softness in her that seemed new—a vulnerability, a disposition to yield. Somewhere to press for an advantage.

Was Karin feeling guilty, perhaps?

"I want the mirror."

"Then—" Her voice fell again. "Then I guess we don't really need a bargain."

Without commenting, he stood to go and lifted the mirror off the table. It was a steady weight in his palm, well-balanced like the hilt of a sword. He tilted it, and could see Karin's friends were still traveling, snow-capped mountains rising in the distance. Somewhere north, likely. "I'm going to take it with me now."

No doubt there was some magic at her disposal she could use to reclaim it, but he was going to bet she wouldn't use it.

Karin tapped her knuckles on the counter. "Can I—I still want to go to the library. I guess technically the old bargain doesn't really matter anymore, but I don't wanna be there if you don't—"

"I don't care what you do."

.

.

.

Sasuke had gotten taller, he thought.

Sasuke always seemed to be growing; they had both consistently been among the taller children in their respective age groups, even if they weren't always the largest. It was possible, Itachi realized, watching Sasuke stretch, his arms almost reaching the top of the door frame of his bedroom, that Sasuke was close to outgrowing him.

The mirror was a somewhat imperfect means of reconnecting with him. It could only relay images, which meant he could follow along Sasuke prepared in the morning and see with perfect clarity how his throat flexed and bobbed when he greeted their parents. He watched Sasuke arrange his hair in the bathroom mirror, the tiniest traces of baby fat in his cheeks as he pouted, frowned, and messed his hair up again in an attempt to get it right, muttering to himself all the while.

And yet, Itachi could hear nothing.

He had pieces of it but did not possess the full story. He could see every yellow and brown gradient of the bruise on the inside of Sasuke's arm, could make out each of the finger-shaped bumps in it, and yet Itachi could only guess where it had come from, what had caused it. Sasuke's lips moved and yet Itachi was unable to hear the timber or depth of his voice, could only wonder if it'd changed, had no choice but to fall back on his most recent memories to imagine how Sasuke might sound then.

And yet, even what he could recall seemed insufficient. When, in all of his years of memories, had Sasuke ever been so expressive? His lips moved slowly and with deference when he talked to their mother, the frown lines in his forehead smoothing out when she smiled back at him. Itachi could watch Sasuke blush and roll his eyes and wave off one of their father's comments, but he could determine nothing more from it.

He just wished he could hear the things Sasuke said to them.

Itachi watched on in complete silence when Sasuke's head suddenly jerked towards the front door of their house, his mouth twisting into a cocky smile as Naruto stumbled into the kitchen, grinning sheepishly and nodding politely to their mother, waving to their father. He could hear no voices, no sighs, no gentle creak of wood when Naruto dropped down in the chair next to Sasuke, hooking one arm over the back of it.

Sasuke said something to Naruto in reply, too long to be a greeting, and Naruto's grin widened.

"He seems like he's doing well."

Itachi flinched and turned around to see Karin standing immediately behind him, hands behind her back. She drew back as if genuinely surprised by his reaction, holding her hands up, either in a show of peace, or to show she'd come empty-handed. Maybe both. "Didn't mean to spook you."

Given whatever their arrangement had become, he knew she'd been somewhere in the library but hadn't actually seen her until then. Earlier, perhaps, he might have heard her leave briefly to get something to eat but, well, he'd found himself a compelling distraction.

It wasn't as if he'd been paying any particular sort of attention to her to begin with.

She'd followed him back to the library from the kitchen, quiet and sullen, but had wandered off somewhere in the stacks and Itachi had settled himself at one of the other tables and had not moved since.

It was a spot that was, coincidentally, far away from the mess of papers he'd left the night before. The house could take care of that on its own.

Karin leaned over his shoulder, careful not to actually touch him, and dragged her fingers over the mirror's surface, the glass eating away the smudges they left in their wake. Her eyes flickered briefly over to him, as if checking to see if he'd object. "Are those two, ah, just always together?"

Itachi looked down to see Naruto and Sasuke had left his home and were walking out of town, towards either the sparring grounds or near where he could remember there being a river. Naruto, ever distracted, was walking backwards, his arms crossed behind his head as he chattered.

She seemed to be implying something, but of course Karin did not understand Naruto and Sasuke as he did. "They're very good friends."

"Well, I mean, they were, uh, together when they came here."

"They are both rangers. Partners." Not that it particularly mattered to her. He nudged her off with his elbow, and thankfully she obliged and backed off.

"Sorry," Karin murmured.

Naruto leaned over to say something to Sasuke, a suspicious smile stretched across his face, and Sasuke used the opportunity to grab Naruto by his collar, making him stumble forward. Sasuke stopped his momentum short with an elbow to his gut, and knocked Naruto flat on his back with a quick jab to his shoulder.

Standing over Naruto, Sasuke positioned one foot by his neck and knelt down, leering down at him.

It was a rather dirty move, and certainly not one he had taught Sasuke.

Karin gave a curious hum. "… Friends, huh?" Naruto grinned, his eyebrows wiggling as he made some comment or other to Sasuke. Sasuke flushed, and Naruto took advantage of Sasuke's surprise to hook an arm around Sasuke's knee, knocking him off of his balance, and Karin hummed again. "I guess I'll take your word for it."

Itachi turned the mirror over onto its front and sighed. "Did you want something?"

"I was just, you know, checking in, I guess. Seeing what was going on. You've been pretty quiet over here, so…" she trailed off, looking to him expectantly.

"I'm more than capable of entertaining myself."

"Well. I mean yeah, I guess you are but—well. I just wanted to make sure you were, well, you know. Doing okay."

Itachi did not bother repeating himself.

Karin let out a long breath and crossed her arms. "Is it—I mean, is it good seeing all of them again?" Before he could respond, she added, "I mean—it isn't just your brother, right? You have parents too, don't you?" It was more than just aimless time wasting—there was a desperate edge to her voice. Something hungry.

There was an itch in the tips of his fingers. Itachi flipped the mirror back over. Naruto was dodging quick punches from Sasuke, his stance low and grounded, far better practiced than it'd been the last time Itachi had ever seen him fight. "I have two parents."

Karin stood there a moment longer, her fingers knotting together anxiously, perhaps waiting for him to say more than that. "Sorry," she eventually said. "I'll… leave you alone."

Itachi sighed, and returned to Naruto and Sasuke.

.

.

.

A professor of his at the University had once described academia as a conversation. Every student walked into their field of study as if walking into a conversation at a dinner party; by the time the student arrived, the guests had long been in conversation.

There was no sense in repeating all that had been said, and so the student sat and waited and did their best to follow the conversation, to pick out the common themes within it, and try to understand the various positions. Only after they are able to do this did it make sense for the student to speak, having finally developed some idea of the parameters of the conversation.

The student will contribute to the conversation while they are able, but when they leave the party, it will continue on in their absence.

Itachi tried to remind himself of that as he watched his family.

He was not watching everything as it had occurred since he'd been gone; like the student, he had only just reentered a conversation. He did not yet have an appropriate frame to understand the soft, secret smiles his parents were sharing, the peaceful dinners they had as a family.

It would be imprudent of him to form impressions, to attempt to uncover what had already been said, until he could comfortably follow the conversation.

What's more, until he could learn to read their lips, Itachi had no way of knowing what they were actually saying.

He just needed to give it more time.

Itachi was relieved to see Sasuke was doing well. Really, he was. That was absolutely what he should have wanted of his little brother in his absence.

If he would never be able to return, then it was all for the better that Sasuke should recover quickly from it, and not allow it to interfere with his ambitions.

The same went for his parents, and for Naruto, and… And for Shisui. He had not seen him yet, but as often as Shisui went on missions, he may very well have been out of the village.

Shisui.

Itachi brought his fingers to the mirror and it warped again, Sasuke's face blurring and morphing into Shisui's. From what Itachi could make out, he wasn't in the village, or at least any part of the village Itachi recognized.

He supposed it was possible, even expected, that parts of it may have changed beyond his ability to recognize them.

He looked tired, Itachi realized. Weary. He reclined on his travel pack, his feet propped up on a nearby log. A fire was burning but Shisui was still awake, staring off sleepily into the sky. A drag of his fingers, and then Itachi could see it too—a sea of cobalt sky, silver-bright stars pebbled under grey waves of clouds.

It was hard to determine what time of day it was because Shisui had always been a late sleeper and an early riser, someone who burned as many hours of the day as he could. It was dark where he was, but, unable to see more, Itachi supposed he could've been almost anywhere on the continent.

The sky outside the library window was a dingy, washed out grey; it was difficult to say how close they might have been. He ran his finger down the glass again, bringing Shisui's face back into focus. He was beginning to nod off, his eyes drifting closed, his fingers absentmindedly twisting around his headband.

Itachi flipped back to the village. His mother and father were asleep, their forms only barely visible in the soft moonlight.

He flipped again.

Sasuke was in his room, hunched over a book at his desk and staving off yawns, a candle stump burning next to him. Several pages of notebook paper were scattered around him, his jerky, cramped handwriting crawling over various diagrams.

"Hey, so… I'm going to bed now." He looked up to see Karin had returned, one of her wretched romance novels tucked under her arm. There was a single red ribbon peeking out over the top, marking her place only a few pages into the book.

"Everything alright?" she asked, her eyes drifting over him for a moment before settling on the mirror.

Sasuke rubbed at his eyes, flipped through a couple pages, and rested his head in his hands. His mouth opened and closed—a sigh or a groan? "Everyone is fine."

Karin pursed her lips. "Well. That's a good thing, right?"

He looked again to the book in her hand and frowned, wondering what she could have been doing, if anything, the whole time she'd been there.

"You should try to get some rest," she added, drawing out the conversation far beyond the point where it ought to have naturally ended. "Your eyes are gonna strain staring at that thing all day."

Itachi bristled. "I do not need to be looked after."

Karin, for once, did not react. He could see the barest twitch of annoyance in the corner of her mouth, but her eyes stayed surprisingly flat. "Well, of course you don't. You're a grown man, I don't see why you shouldn't be able to take care of yourself." She jerked her head to the side, staring out the window behind his head. "I just figured you'd be tired too."

"I'm not."

"Well, okay." She shrugged, and began to shuffle toward the library doors. "I'll see you tomorrow then, Itachi. Have a good night."

Sasuke began to sort through the papers on his desk, lifting up the cover of his book as if looking for something. Apparently not finding it, he stood and knelt on the floor, squinting into the darkness under his desk.

"Try to get some sleep, maybe?" Karin said, before finally leaving. The library doors clicked shut behind her, and Itachi could hear the soft patter of her footsteps down the hall. In his hands, Sasuke was reaching towards his candle, and then the room went dark.

He waited several moments longer but Sasuke, ever the private person, kept his blinds shut, and Itachi could see very little in the absence of moonlight.

Unable to hear the sound of Karin's footsteps, he assumed she had already returned to her bedroom, wherever that was. He abandoned the mirror, heading out to the hall and towards where the bathroom had most recently been, where Karin had agreed to keep the bathroom.

Alone, it was hard to justify feeling embarrassed or shameful but he couldn't help his discomfort as he clicked on the lamp in the bathroom and stood before the mirror, allowing the gilded boundaries of it to frame his face. He focused on his mouth, watching the movements his lips made as he silently mouthed I-ta-chi, committing to memory the patterns his name formed: the slight part in his mouth at the first syllable, the barest hint of tongue behind his teeth at the next.

Maybe he should have been embarrassed, but it seemed like something he ought to learn to recognize.

Just in case.

a/n:

HELLO! Thank you all for waiting patiently for this update! Happy holidays, and extra thanks to everyone who favorites and reviews! Sorry to keep you waiting