The heat from Shisui's grave burned her face but did nothing for how cold she felt inside. A hand dropped to her shoulder, and she curled her fists against her thighs. She heard murmured condolences, and the hand withdrew. She caught her breath and held it as another person did the same. Another. And another. The pattern continued. Then an arm eased around her, and a weight settled beside her.

"Breathe," Mikoto ordered, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "There we go. That's better."

"Thank you," Kyoko whispered. She looked down as something nudged her hand. She smiled and lifted her arm. "Hello, Sasuke-kun."

"Hi, Kyo," he mumbled, snuggling in to her side. "You okay?"

"Yes. I'm okay. Thank you for asking." She carded her fingers through his hair. "How are you? Did you do okay? I know the ceremony was long."

"This was his first funeral. He did well."

Kyoko twisted to look at the source of the voice. "Fugaku-sama," she greeted. Normally she would stand, but all her limbs felt heavy. So heavy.

"Sasuke," Fugaku called, motioning him away. "We should allow her a moment alone to say goodbye."

Sasuke scrambled up. Mikoto gave Kyoko's shoulder one more squeeze and kept her voice soft as she said, "Talk to me when you're ready."

Kyoko nodded and bowed her head as they left. For a couple minutes, the only sound was the burning wood. Eventually, she felt the brush of cloth against her arm as someone sat beside her.

"I'm—"

"Don't," she rasped. "Not again. You can't keep apologizing. I understand. I really do."

Itachi let out a shaky breath. "What do you want me to say, then?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "Tell me . . . . Tell me we're going to be okay. That everything is going to be alright."

"What if . . . that's not true?"

"Then lie to me."

The silence stretched between them. When he finally did speak, his voice was crumbling. "We'll be okay. Everything is going to be alright."

She took a trembling breath and got to her feet. "I'm going home."

Itachi didn't move to stop her, and Kyoko left. She kept her head down as she walked back through the Compound's streets to her empty house. She slid the door open. "I'm home," she said to a family that wasn't there.

"Welcome back."

She jumped, snapping her stare to the side and activating her sharingan. She stilled. "Kakashi?" she asked. "What are—" She dropped her stare to the tea set he was putting on the table, memorizing the worn engravings along its surface. That wasn't a set she owned.

"Sorry. Didn't meant to surprise you. I just—" He gestured at the table. "I brought you some food—mentaiko, your favorite—and figured some tea would probably help. You have me in the wards, and I just needed to use the stove for the water, so I didn't think you would mind." He hesitated, tapping the edge of the table. "You . . . don't mind, do you?"

She shook her head slowly.

"Good. Here." He pulled out a chair. "Sit down and eat. I know it won't fix anything, but it'll help."

She toed off her shoes and then paced forwards. "Thank you," she murmured, sitting down and reaching for an onigiri. "You didn't have to do this."

He sat and moved to pour a cup of tea for her and then another for himself. "I wanted to."

She didn't respond to that, working her way slowly through the cup and the single onigiri. When she'd finished it, Kakashi nudged the tray filled with the rest of the riceballs. She shook her head. "I want to spar."

Kakashi faltered. "You aren't going to eat anymore?"

"I want to spar," she said again, looking up at him. "Please."

He nodded, scrambling to his feet. "Okay."

Kyoko stood, pushed her chair in, and moved back several steps so that she was centered in the open area between the couches and the table. She settled into her beginning stance.

"Now? Here?"

She shrugged, sharingan still on. "It'll distract me. Unless . . . you don't think you can stay safely aware of your surroundings."

Kakashi huffed. "Right." He moved to face her. "Alright. Hajime."

Kyoko moved first. She kept her actions quick and close, leaving little room between her attacks but also leaving little protection for herself. He was fast to take advantage of that, clipping her ribs and then using her own momentum to trip her forward. As she recovered, he swept her feet out from under her. He reached a hand around her as she went down and followed, catching his arm between her back and the floor. With his free forearm flat across her collarbone and a knee lightly pressing her left leg down to keep her pinned, he frowned.

"Your defense isn't up to par."

She screwed her eyes shut, finally letting her sharingan release. A well of emotions pressed their way up her throat, and she couldn't stop them. She burst out crying. His hold snapped away, and she covered her face with her hands as she sobbed.

Kakashi's hands were back, grabbing at her shoulders and pulling her up. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Your defense really wasn't that bad."

She choked out a kind of half-laugh. "Idiot," she mumbled. "That's not what's wrong."

"I know." He wrapped his arms tight around her and dragged her to his chest.

She dropped her hands, curling them shakily in his shirt. "He's not coming back," she whispered.

"No," he agreed. "He's not." And then a moment later, "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I would have been if I could have been."

"I know. I know." The tears were still coming, and it was still hard to breathe, but the overwhelming despair had thinned. "You're here."

"I am," he promised. "I'm here. As long as you'll have me."