AN: Thank you for all the reviews I've been getting! I love reading them. I also got a question about what my updating schedule is going to look like. I'm aiming to update weekly, Fridays specifically. I am working and going to college though, so as I said, I'm aiming for it! Anyway, I hope you're loving the story so far, and I love reading everything you say!

The aftermath of the battle was something that came as a blur to Asami. Once the Sarutobi retreated the Senju soon followed after. Their retreat was in part because that man on the hill deemed her enough of a threat, but also because she killed someone important to the Sarutobi. She learned from Izuna that one of the men killed was Sasuke Sarutobi's younger brother—more specifically, the younger brother of the newly inaugurated leader of the Sarutobi clan.

She'd heard of Sasuke Sarutobi before, but as she never stepped into a real battle before that day, she'd never seen him with her own eyes. With Izuna's information, she could easily connect the dots to know who the man on the hill was. How Izuna came about this information, she didn't know, and frankly did not care enough to ask.

Hana was not the only death to occur in that battle. Tajima Uchiha, amongst many others, died trying to push the Senju and Sarutobi back from their borders. Technically the battle was a success, as the Uchiha forced the offenders to retreat, but the clan was in mourning. Many of their loved ones and friends had died, along with their clan leader, and a member of the main family. The Uchiha were hurting.

It rained on the day of the funeral. The entire clan was present, paying respect to their clan leader who died an honorable death fighting against the leader of the Senju, Butsuma Senju. There was word that Tajima had wounded Butsuma mortally, but as the Senju were quick to fall back with the Sarutobi there was no evidence of his death. The Uchiha could only hope that he was dead as even exchange for their leader.

With Tajima's death came Madara's inauguration as the new clan leader. Asami was unsure how her elder cousin felt about the transition. It was a given that he was going to take over the clan one day, and had been groomed for the position since he was a child. The clan already respected Madara as Tajima's son, but now they respected him not only as Tajima's son, but as a revered shinobi, and leader of their clan. She hadn't spoken much to Madara since they returned from battle as he'd been swept away the moment they came back with the wounded and began preparations for funerals.

There were a lot of changes happening around Asami, but she couldn't force herself to pay attention. Or to care. She was apathetic, detached from the world as she went through the motions. People gave her their apologies, looking upon her in sympathy as another shinobi who scraped by from battle. Another one to continue among the living, to carry on with the guilt of surviving where others did not. She could barely force herself to give them a reply when these condolences were given.

It was night now, the funeral having dispersed hours ago. The compound was quiet, the clan in mourning and picking up the pieces from the aftermath of the battle. It continued to rain with the occasional rumble of thunder, the sound of water hitting the roof echoing into the main family's home. The storm raged even harder than when they fought the day before.

Asami stood in the long, empty hallway in front of Hana's room. She was heading to her own room, when she stopped short, coming to the painful realization that Hana's room was on the way to her own. She didn't make any move to open it or walk away. She only stared at the paper of the shoji door, face expressionless and flat. Chills ran over her body, the pain gripping at her chest and making it difficult to swallow.

Deep down, part of her expected Hana to rip open the door and stare at her incredulously, wondering why she was creepily standing outside her door without doing anything. She wanted it to happen so bad. Asami would laugh, and Hana would too. Hana would make a comment about her garden, and how the flowers were growing. Or, she would complain about how Hanami had been spending too much time with another Uchiha boy who was courting her, leaving little time for the two of them to spend time together. She wanted Hana to ask Asami to bandage up another cut from a shuriken. To ask if she wanted to go for a walk and look at the fireflies. To eat another meal together.

Asami wanted so dearly for that to happen. For any of those things to happen. She wouldn't be picky. She would take anything. She would do anything and everything to have even the most mundane interaction with her sister again. All she wanted was for her sister to be here, alive and with her. She wanted the entire battle to be a nightmare. One terrible, awful, awful nightmare.

The pain of her sister's death alone was enough to bear. But along with that was the guilt.

She was the reason her sister died. Hana died protecting her. Asami was shaken and foolish in the face of danger. She should have known better to do anything but be on her feet, ready for any kind of attack at a moment's notice. They were in a battle. They weren't at home in the walls of the compound where she could afford to be scared. She sat on the dirt, trembling like a pathetic child after killing someone. When in comparison, Hana, of all people remained unfazed by the death. Asami should have been the same way. She should have let their blood roll off her back as if it was nothing but the act of a good shinobi. She should have known better. She should have known.

It should have been her. She should have died, not Hana. Her sister deserved to live, not her. Asami was a pathetic excuse of a sister, a daughter, a shinobi—

Asami didn't realize she was shaking until a hand clamped down on her shoulder. She jumped at the contact, but used the firm hand to reground her to her surroundings, preventing her from spiraling deeper into her despair. Her brain was running a million miles a minute, every passing thought only adding to her grief and guilt.

She looked up to see her eldest cousin.

Madara looked at her with an even gaze, hand still on her shoulder. He glanced from her, before looking to the closed door to Hana's room. His eyes strayed on the shoji door, before meeting Asami's gaze again. "...What are you doing?"

Asami blinked at him. She racked her brain, trying to come up with some sort of response for why she was lingering outside of Hana's room. But she couldn't come up with anything. She was too numb and too tired to come up with an excuse on the spot.

"I don't know."

That was all she could really think to say.

Madara looked at her with his only visible eye, the other hidden underneath a mop of his black, spiky hair. He gave her the same look he had the day before when the group was preparing to depart for the battle. There was some sort of emotion there Asami couldn't put her finger on. She wished that whatever he was feeling, he would just spit it out, instead of sticking to his cryptic nature. Though in a way, she had no room to talk. She was just as secretive about her own feelings—her looming guilt in particular.

"You should get some rest." Was the response he came up with.

Asami resisted the urge to laugh at the irony. She wouldn't be able to sleep. She couldn't sleep the night before, the thought of laying down and closing her eyes was the last thing she wanted to do. Even if she needed the sleep, and her body was craving the rest more than anything.

She had stark dark circles, framing the sullen and empty look in her black eyes. Her hair was unbrushed and tangled, obviously not being cared for. She wore the same black yukata from the day before, the one she had changed into after cleaning the blood off her from the battle. Madara didn't fail to notice this little detail either, and recognized it meant she probably hadn't slept the night before either. It was obvious to Madara that she had not been caring for herself. When he thought about it, he wasn't sure she had eaten anything either. He didn't hover over her and know what she did throughout the day, but he did pay attention to details. She attended the funeral, then came back to the home to do kami knew what, alone.

Plainly put, Asami looked terrible.

"Follow me."

Madara didn't say anything more, brushing past her and walking down the hall into Asami's room. Asami blinked, trying to comprehend what her older cousin wanted from her, especially when going into her room. It was getting late—so she was sure he had his own rest to worry about. That same guilt returned for taking up her cousin's time. She didn't need to be bothering him.

He didn't call out to her again, so she did as he asked, padding down the hallway and into her room.

There was a single lit lantern on the nightstand, though the various lanterns that led from her room and into the backyard were still lit, as she hadn't put them out yet. The room was well lit in warm light, the bedroll laid out on the center of the floor. Madara stood in the corner of the room by her dresser, looking for something. Asami stood in the doorway, her hand resting on the frame as she watched him poke around.

"...What are you looking for?"

He looked up. "Where is your brush?"

Asami blinked at him, finding the entire interaction so far very bizarre. She briefly thought about asking why. Part of her felt the temptation to make a joke about wanting to borrow it for his own spiky mane, but she bit back the comment, instead choosing to answer him. "It's in the top drawer."

He pulled open the drawer and made a 'hmph' noise, finding it.

He walked to the middle of the room and got to his knees. Asami stayed where she was, staring at him blankly. Her brows furrowed in confusion at what was going on.

Madara looked up at her and gestured for her to come over. "Come sit down with your back facing me."

She stared at him for a moment, waiting to see if maybe he was making some strange joke. He did have the habit of doing that sometimes, his humor a little off-handed and something you had to let settle for a moment. But as there was no laugh or half-smile sent her way, she got the impression he was being fully serious.

Unsure, she slowly came over and did as he said, sitting in front with her back facing him.

Then he did something she absolutely did not expect—he began to brush her hair.

Asami blinked, looking incredulously at the wall in front of her as she tried to process what exactly her cousin was doing.

Madara and her were close, but when she compared how developed the relationships were with each of her cousins, including those that had passed, she was closest with Izuna. That was partly because Madara was fairly busy throughout her childhood, since being the firstborn son of the clan head called for a full schedule. But her closeness with Izuna was also due to his personality—he engaged with her more, and frankly just spent more time with her. Madara kept to himself more, even when he had free time.

Since her father died and she had to make the transition into the main household, the relationships she had with the both of them grew from living in the same home. But she still always maintained a closer relationship with Izuna for various reasons—but also just because the two had personalities that meshed well together. They got along, plain and simple.

If Madara was close to anyone, besides Izuna of course, it was probably Hana. Hana, for whatever reason, adored Madara. Asami remembered when they were fairly young Hana would tot around him and practically beg for him to play with her. She sought after any kind of attention he would give her. Asami knew Madara felt that same kind of endearment for her as well. Or he did.

Another wave of pain rushed over her, gripping at her chest. She frowned, taking a shaky breath as she tried to brush off the impending thought of how her sister is now a was.

"You need to continue to take care of yourself, even when it's hard. Even when the only thing you want to do is sink into your grief." He said, pulling Asami from her thoughts. He continued to run the brush through her hair, detangling the knots with gentle care. "Your sister did not die for you to wither away."

His words, while harsh, shocked something in her.

She hadn't realized it, but she had begun to care less for herself. The thoughts to eat, change her clothes, or brush her hair, as Madara was doing now, hadn't come to mind. She didn't have the energy to do anything besides mope and feel miserable over Hana, and simmer on the guilt that consumed her at every second for being the cause of her death. Her mind was swallowed whole by her misery, and her physical body was paying the price for it.

Hana died, and this was how she was repaying her?

She began to tremble, a single tear sliding down her cheek. Though this tear was the first of many.

He stopped brushing, seeming to be done with the task. "Asami—"

"I just feel so guilty—" She said suddenly, her voice coming out as a quiet whisper. The quietness of her voice shocked Madara, cutting him off. He allowed her to continue, the shift in the atmosphere shocking him into silence. She leaned over, almost as if she was curling into herself for any kind of support, her back still to him.

Pressing her hands against her thighs, she bunched the fabric of her yukata in her hands, trying to force down a sob. The tears rushed rapidly down her cheeks and into her lap, creating splotches in the black fabric. "I should... I sh-should have been able to do something. I was the one who was about to die, and Hana saved me. She, of all people, saved me. I lectured her, and nagged her, and told her she needed to be ready to defend herself. That maybe I wouldn't be able to save her if she didn't get strong enough, and instead... instead she was the one saving me. And it cost Hana her life. My sister. She died saving me."

Asami cried, another sob racking her body as the pain crashed over her again. It was as if she was still on the battlefield, her sister's limp, bloody body in her arms, the battle ensuring around them. Only now it seemed much worse, as she was in the comfort of home, safe within the compound walls when her sister was dead.

She had never cried like this before. Even when she killed that man as a child. Even when her father died, she didn't cry like this. It hurt so badly. She had lost, and was losing so much. Her sister's life was taken so easily. It was terrifying how fast and quick everything had been. Hana was now just another name to be added to the death toll. She couldn't stand it. She couldn't shove away the guilt and the looming thought that it should have been her name to be added to the death toll, not Hana's.

Asami gasped in surprise as Madara tugged on her shoulder, flipping her around. She didn't get a chance to react, or to make some kind of emotionally winded remark, as he had pulled her into his arms.

She sniffed, the tears subsiding for a moment from the shock of the interaction. He placed a hand on her head, stringing his fingers through her hair, while his other hand wrapped around her upper body and caged her against him.

"I know it hurts." He said. "But Hana, if given the choice... you know what she would do, don't you?"

Asami sobbed, beginning to cry again at the realization.

"She would do it all over again." Finished Madara, knowing she was well aware of the answer. "And you know, if the roles were reversed, you would do the exact same thing. I know it's not an easy task, but don't blame yourself for what happened. Live with knowing your sister gave her life so you could live yours. There's solace in that, no matter how painful, or how much we wish she could come back to be with us."

Asami could only cry, knowing he was right. She would have done the same thing for her sister at a moment's notice. Begging to exchange places with her was almost the same act, and she had been begging to go back and give up her own life for her sister relentlessly since she had returned home.

Madara had let her cry it out, and now her cries had quieted down, exhaustion sweeping over her. From not sleeping the night before and the emotional revelation she just had, it was sure to say she was exhausted. Asami pushed herself up, sitting on the ground now in front of her cousin. She pulled her knees into her chest, staring at the floor in between them. He stared at her, frowning.

"...I'm sorry." She said suddenly.

"For?" He asked.

She frowned too, sniffing and placing her chin into the crevice of her knees. "Hana was important to you too. It's not only something for me to be grief-stricken about not. Not to mention Tajima-sama died in the battle as well. Your father. Yet here I am, crying hysterically like a child. You have more important responsibilities to attend to now that you're clan head, too. You're not just my cousin anymore. You're the clan leader."

Madara sighed, turning his head away to stare at the wall. His brows bunched in thought, seeming to be carefully choosing how to answer. "...Hana was your sister. Your twin sister, matter of fact. You've been together since birth and were one at a point. That's a connection that goes deeper than just a simple brother and sister. Hana was a kind-hearted soul that the war took from us. She did not deserve to die... but I know the dead do not want us to linger and become shells of ourselves over their death. Their time has come to an end, while we are forced to continue on. As much as we want them to continue with us, we don't get the option."

"As for my father... of course, I loved him as my father, but I would be lying if I said our relationship was one of a typical father and son." He paused again seeming to be choosing his words carefully. "He was not one to express his love and bare his soul to those he loved. I didn't know my father as well as I wished I did."

Asami felt guilty for bringing up the topic of his father, now in retrospect. She didn't live her entire life under the clan head, and living in the home was different than the clan head being her father. But she could imagine the relationship Madara and Izuna had with Tajima was completely different in comparison to the one she had with her own father. Daichi was a warm-hearted, silly man who loved his family more than anything. He was always affectionate and attentive to his girls. She was sure Tajima loved his sons, but she was also sure he was not one to tuck in his children at night and give them a goodnight kiss.

Tajima was someone Asami had always disliked. She particularly disliked him for the way he unashamedly deemed Daichi a pathetic excuse of a husband and father. Ever since she was a child, and even after he died, Tajima didn't let up with his nasty attitude toward Daichi. His distaste toward her father was irrational, as you couldn't soundly claim Daichi killed Asami's mother by her having his children. Complications happened when giving birth—it was not a new occurrence. Asami thought Tajima's anger toward her father was just so he could place the emotions over losing his sister somewhere. Even if the bitter feelings were irrational. Obviously, her father loved her mother very much, but Tajima couldn't think rationally through his grief.

In comparison, Tajima was never bitter or mean toward her or Hana, as he looked at the girls as an extension of his sister. Maybe some would find that to be a fine exchange, but Asami did not. She was as much her father's daughter as she was her mother's. Tajima's desire to erase Daichi from her life was never successful.

Madara rubbed the bottom half of his face in thought. Asami looked up to meet his gaze, as he was no longer staring at the wall but looking at her. He said, "While my title may be clan head, that doesn't mean I am no longer your family. It was obvious you needed the support that only family could provide."

Asami felt a jolt in her chest. Maybe she was touched by the genuineness of her cousin, especially as it was usually Izuna who gave her this kind of attention, and not Madara. But she didn't mind it. There was something different about Madara supporting her compared to Izuna. With Izuna, she felt she could bare her emotions and he would help support them. He would comfort her, and be a sense of solace. But with Madara, he was a strong foundation she could lean on. He was like a rock—steady, and unwavering. Right now, she needed the steadiness. She needed the strength, and she was glad he could give it to her.

"Thank you." Her voice came out as a gentle thanks, almost a whisper. She could feel her gratitude deep within her, and she hoped he could sense how sincere she was.

Madara gave her a curt nod. "Of course."

He got up to leave and walked to the door, lingering in the frame. He glanced over at Asami, who still sat on the ground, legs pulled into her chest. Her eyes were swollen, cheeks stained with tear tracks. She really looked so small, huddled into herself. At that moment, the realization of just how young she was hit him. Only sixteen, and she was experiencing loss that should truthfully only come to those beyond their years. So young, and she had already experienced enough pain to last her a lifetime.

He knew she wasn't the only one to suffer like this, though.

"Get some sleep." Was the last thing he said, before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

Asami did just that, feeling enough confidence in herself to slide into her bedroll and get well-deserved rest.

It was a few weeks later, and the storming had seemed to pass. Spring was coming to its end, summer inching closer, meaning the rain came and went with the occasional gap of sunshine in the land of fire. It was nice out, the sun shining and the vegetation prospering with the help of excess water from the previous storms.

Asami felt better than she had the night of the funeral. Madara had genuinely coaxed her out of her sense of misery. It didn't mean she was accepting of Hana's death, or that she had made peace with it. She was still angry, harboring bitter hatred for the force that deemed her sister's time was up. She wasn't angry with the Senju in particular, as the Senju shinobi who killed her sister had already died by her hand in battle. She was just... grieving and angry. The death wasn't fair, and she wasn't sure she would be able to make peace with it in the manner Madara had.

Controlling who died may be impossible, but it didn't make it any less difficult to deal with. She couldn't make herself think through it logically—that death was just that. Death. She couldn't understand how he thought about it in such a black and white manner.

Part of her suspected it really wasn't that easy for him and he was simply detaching from the pain.

There was one space she could control who died, though.

Her Sharingan abilities that made itself known in the battle were a mystery to her. Somehow, she just knew to use it, and how. To create a mental dimension where everything was under her control was baffling to her. What else she could do with it and how she would use it in the future was something she needed to explore further. She had never heard of any abilities of the Sharingan to create a mind space under total control. It was confusing, and not knowing was unnerving.

Asami didn't tell anyone about it, but she was sure when Izuna found her and Hana he noticed there was something different. His reaction at the time pointed to that, anyway.

But that was something for another day. Or at least until Izuna brought it up to her.

Since it was nice out, she decided she would visit something she had been avoiding since the day of the funeral.

Asami sat outside, kneeling before the plot of flowers and plants before her. The sun beamed down on her, the distant chirping of birds came overhead, but she didn't pay it any mind, her hands shoved deep into the dirt in front of her. The sleeves of her yukata were pulled up to her elbows, long black hair loose and out of its usual half braid. She yanked weeds out of the ground and tossed them into a growing pile next to her.

The garden needed work, riddled with weeds and the plants leaning over, reaching for the sunlight or the source of water it was lacking. It had been thoroughly neglected, as Hana had been its only caretaker. Asami had never cared for plants. But she had every intention to fix it and make it the way Hana would have wanted it. Hana valued her garden and tended to her plants with the utmost care, and it was the least Asami could do for her. In a way, caring for plants made her feel more connected with her. It was comforting.

Someone settled in next to her.

"Room for one more?"

Asami looked over through the bangs that had fallen into her eyes.

Kousuke kneeled in the grass next to her, pushing up his sleeves. The first thing that caught her attention was a healing scar dragging from the tip of his chin to the underside of his jaw. It was pink, obviously fresh. Asami assumed he had earned it from the recent battle. She hadn't remained unscathed either, the stab wound in her shoulder from the Senju still raw. Fresh bandages were wrapped around it, though it wasn't visible to him due to her yukata.

"...I suppose so." Asami turned back to what she was doing, yanking another weed out of the ground.

Kousuke joined her, pulling up the plants that didn't belong and adding them to his own pile.

"I didn't take you for much of a gardener." Commented Asami smartly, as he pulled another weed out.

Kousuke gave her a sideways glance through his curls. He made a face, nose crinkling and eyebrows scrunching. "I'm not. But I know you're not either, which is why I thought you could use another set of hands. It seemed like you were having a tough time. How long have you been out here now? A couple of hours and that's all the weeds you pulled? It was sad watching it."

Asami leaned back, scrunching up her face. She placed her hands on her thighs, continuing to give him a look. "...Were you watching me?"

Kousuke froze, going stiff at her question. There was a beat of silence, his cheeks turning a light pink at being caught. He shook his head and let out a snort, trying to make it sound like she was absolutely crazy for proposing something like that. "No! Why would I be doing that? I just happened to notice it in passing."

Asami stared at him, unimpressed. "...You just said I had been out here for a couple of hours. How would you know that if you weren't watching."

She didn't even say it as a question, more of a fact than anything since she knew she was right.

Kousuke didn't say anything in response, knowing he was caught and trying to come up with an excuse was useless. Instead, he chose to flick a weed at her in place of words. Asami raised her arms and flinched in surprise, the weed hitting her arms and falling into her lap. She looked at him, totally flabbergasted with her mouth agape, wondering where he got off throwing things at her. Never mind a weed.

Annoyed now, she grabbed a handful of weeds from the pile next to her and threw them at Kousuke, most of them hitting his shoulder, but a few strays hit him in the face. Still leaned over from digging in the dirt, he turned his head, his mouth hanging open now at her actions. Asami gave him a smug look, unapologetic for her actions.

Kosuke always managed to be a pest. He was relentless in his attempts to annoy her, and it seemed as though it was his mission in life to find every way possible he could tick her off. He was pretty good at it, she could acknowledge. Even if he was trying to just mess around, that stuff got annoying. After all, they weren't children. He should have put more effort into acting like a mature adult instead of screwing around constantly. Now he had distracted her from working on the garden—

Asami gasped as a large slop of mud was thrown at her, covering her front. The light blue color of her yukata was stained a dark brown, light splatters of the wet dirt littered her cheeks and neck. She reached up and swiped the sticky, slightly smelly mud from her face, smearing it across her cheek. She stared at the mud that covered her hand, mouth hanging open.

Kousuke mirrored her smug look from moments ago, shaking the excess mud from his hand that was completely brown from flinging it at her. "Got you."

Asami let out an unintelligible noise, not wasting any time in grabbing a handful of mud and flinging it at his face. He turned his head last second, so the mud only hit part of his face and the rest covered his side, but she still got him.

Kousuke shook his head, spitting at the ground. "It got in my mouth! Gross!"

Asami felt a sense of satisfaction at his discomfort, but there was also part of her that found this... funny.

She stared at him, pressing her lips into a firm line to try to keep herself from laughing. But as he squeezed his eyes shut, wiping his face with his sleeve only to put the mud back into his mouth again by accident, she couldn't help but laugh. Only she wasn't just laughing, she was practically crying tears of laughter.

Kousuke stared at her, dark eyes wide at her reaction. She covered her face with the back of her sleeve, looking at him over the top of her arm. She was letting out light giggles now, her laughter trailing off as she began to calm down.

She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, sighing. "Ah... you look totally ridiculous."

Kousuke didn't say anything, just continuing to stare at her. His face slowly turned a dark red, and he turned away from her, hiding his face. "Yeah, well you don't look all that great either."

Asami made a pouty face. "Aw, well someone is upset now. What happened to being a good sport? You hit me with the mud first, I only returned the favor."

Kousuke rolled his eyes, still facing away from her. "Uh huh."

Asami did think Kousuke was a pest, but she would be lying if she said this wasn't the best she had felt in weeks. She couldn't remember the last time she laughed as hard as she did now. She felt her face lift into a gentle smile, staring at the ground. While she was disgusting now and in desperate need of a bath, it was worth it. It was kind of... fun.

She was weirdly appreciative of him now.