'What is dark within me, illumine.' ~ John Milton, Paradise Lost

The droplets of a faraway rain mercilessly pelted the windows like bits of gravel and the distant rumble of thunder could be heard, but nothing else broke the silence of Shizune's study except for the rustle of paper as she thumbed through an old file, hoping for a distraction so that she could stop mulling over the events of the past few weeks.

Everything was a mess, with tidying up becoming the last thing on her mind after the incident. Her books lay in slumping piles on the table, several documents that she yet had to organise were stacked haphazardly on a nearby chair and a well-thumbed file lay open on her desk. Despite her best efforts, she still felt heavy with guilt, as if her dress had been soaked through with seawater. She sighed, cramming the remaining papers into a desk drawer, straightening the pages carefully before shutting it.

For much time, Tsunade had been in a coma because of a turn of events that had led to her chakra reserves depleting during Pein's assault on Konoha. The odds of her surviving were painfully slim, and the only thing that gave Shizune hope was the fading pulse that she felt when she pressed her fingers to her mentor's wrist. Since then, she had been trying to rid herself of an unshakable feeling that everything would have been alright if she had intervened. If she had been there.

She swallowed, assuring herself for the hundredth time that it was going to be alright, but her nerves sang a song shriller than a dog whistle. If possible, she could check on Tsunade.

Sighing, she bustled past the threshold and flung open the door, only to be greeted by a warm breeze. She stepped outside, hitching up her skirt. The streets were mostly empty, apart from the occasional shinobi or civilian bustling past and the wind whistling in her ears. Fallen leaves spotted the roads with bursts of colour and floated idly in puddles of rainwater that still gleamed like coins in the distance, illuminated by the fading sunlight. She walked on, her heels clicking against the cobblestones. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she tried to shake off the lingering feeling of guilt with no avail. Maybe if she was present, maybe if -

Shizune jumped as something cold and wet landed on her nose and looked up at the sky, which had started to spit drizzle at the streets once more. Wiping another raindrop from her brow, she squinted into the distance at the blur on the horizon that was her destination and wondered how she would ever arrive on time to check on Tsunade. By now, the rain had started to fall heavily, and she was soaked to the bone, her sodden clothes clinging to her frame. She could only wrap her arms around herself, hoping that it would keep her from unravelling further.

But the rain seemed to have stopped falling suddenly, droplets no longer pelting her head.

She turned and found herself staring at the very familiar face of a figure clad in black with eyes obscured by a pair of sunglasses who nonchalantly held an umbrella over their heads, his free hand jammed into his pocket.

'Hello, Shizune.'

'Ah, hello, Ebisu.' She smoothed down the rumpled fabric of her kimono, glad that it gave her an excuse to hide the blush that crept up her neck. She had known him since her academy days, and had found him rather unusual to begin with. Their relationship was atypically peculiar, one that she could not describe in words. They had started off as friends who simply acknowledged each other's existences and had stayed so for many years. But whenever nobody else was present, at the oddest and most desperate times, their presences seemed to linger near each other's like shadows. 'Thank you...'

He only stared at her, slowly lifting one of his eyebrows. 'It was nothing, really. I couldn't just let you turn into a block of ice, could I?' Shizune nodded steadily in acknowledgement, her nerves in tatters yet again as she registered their proximity, the back of his hand brushing hers. 'Where are you heading to? It seems rather incongruous to see you walking down the streets sopping wet, and that too during nightfall.'

'Well,' she said, 'I'm going to check on Lady Tsunade.' Her gut twisted at the memory of her mentor's waxen face as she lay unconscious, her pale fingers unmoving as Shizune sat at her side and squeezed her hand. Blinking back tears that threatened to fall, she straightened and cursed her vulnerability. Why did he have to see her like this? And worst of all, he seemed to pick up on her distress almost instantly, inching even closer as he looked her square in the eye. However, she knew that he understood - understood her pain, her grief, her guilt.

He understood her.

'Ah, you really shouldn't blame yourself, Shizune.' Ebisu replied, and she felt her shoulders stiffen in defence. 'Your loyalty to Lady Tsunade has been unwavering. There are some things that none of us can prevent.' And with that he slid his hand into hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Shizune squeezed back, lacing her fingers through his. Even after all those years of him training as a shinobi, she was surprised to feel the calluses on his palm. 'And besides, crying does simply nothing for a pretty face like yours.'

Shizune couldn't help but flush yet again, turning her face away momentarily as Ebisu abruptly withdrew his hand from hers, clearing his throat and shoving his hand into his pocket.

Gosh, men were a truly perplexing species, especially this one.

'Hmm... it's getting late. Do you mind if I accompany you?' He turned to her, his arms still stiff at his sides.

'Not at all. Thank you, that's awfully kind of you.'

'After all,' he said coolly, the ghost of a smile lifting the corners of his mouth, 'chivalry isn't dead. Yet.'