Winter almost passes in a blur of splattered rain. The liquid grounds of Konoha recedes into tiny blotches of puddles. The trees regenerate in colour and sprouts a multitude of brightly lit leaves that glow spectacularly against the warmth of sun.
The final days of cold weather is marked by the annual Winter Festival, and today, Izumi's space is occupied by two shinobis who refuse to let a 'serious' matter escape.
"You haven't asked Itachi yet have you?"
Yuki's nagging voice is perhaps ten times worse than Nanami's incessant description of Shisui's incredible skills, intelligence, looks and charm - to name a few.
"For the last time, I will. I just don't know when yet," Izumi mutters irritably.
It is half true. She does not dare venture into the realm of asking someone like Itachi to accompany her. The incredulity of such situation has been gnawing at her for quite some time.
Izumi is unsure as to whether it is Nanami's smugness and disbelieving success for asking Shisui, or that she is stuck with the misfortunate situation of having to invite Itachi. But the certainty that such scenario will not transpire has curiously backfired.
"Oh yeah? You have three days before the ceremony. He has also been nominated, so I am wondering if he has asked anyone?" Yuki says pensively.
She glances briefly in Izumi's direction, as if to catch some sort of emotional response for her. But Izumi remains vacant, lost in her own stupidity.
A part of her recoils at the thought of asking such a mind numbing, nervous havoc question, yet another part burns like a submissive ember at the thought of speaking to him.
"How would I know?" Izumi replies glumly.
Yuki's speculation stirs her.
In the three preceding years, Itachi has always been alone. Though he would accept the Council's Mission without so much as a respectful bow, Izumi sees the enigma. No words and no partners will guard Itachi's integrity - that is, his mysteriousness will continue to baffle the world and only those closest will have personal insight into his inner sphere.
The image of Itachi with someone will certainly ruin his mystifying aura. Perhaps Izumi has the unrealistic ideology that he is a perfectly preserve fighter who is inhumanly resistant to emotions?
But such thinking colludes with his position to win. Izumi is forgetting that she is also nominated and there is still a chance for her to take the title.
"Izumi? Are you hearing me?"
Nanami's voice filters through and her reverie breaks.
"Sorry?"
Her tone is hard with defence.
"I-I was going to ask…" Nanami trails off.
But she does not continue.
"Sorry," Izumi says, "Just stuck in my own world. What were you going to say?"
Nanami's expression lightens and there is now a look of eagerness flittering her gaze.
"Can you and Yuki help me pick something out together?"
x
Evening settles with a drifting breeze that is unusually warm for a winter's night. She is by the training grounds and watching his shadow manoeuvre with expert speed and deftness.
Izumi does not sit in her usual site near Itachi's training space. Her muses are heavy with nervousness, and the further she distances herself from him, the lighter she feels. Yet she cannot help but wonder if there is any point to her actions. And when she continues to ruminate, she finally concludes her feelings. She is scared. Not of Itachi, but of his words.
For a long time, she sits amidst the coolness of night, until time disappears and she is submerged in her own convoluted world. And the guilt surges, as if she has no rights to feel such ways.
There is a nagging sensation that speaks to her. It manifests in the form of gut wrenching anguish, that she should focus on training, perfect her ninja way and strive for strength to protect her village. Yet she is guilty of relishing in attachment and affection.
"Izumi, what are you doing here so late?"
As if attuned to his presence, her mind is already re-directing its attention towards him.
"Itachi, aren't you supposed to be training?"
Her voice is slurred, slightly dazed, and perhaps she is still processing his sudden appearance.
"I finished awhile ago," he says.
He is watching her curiously, and for the briefest of moments, he appears to be fixating his gaze on her neck.
But Izumi is still hovering in stupor. She knows her imagination derides her.
"Oh. I must have spaced out and lost track of time then," she answers stiffly.
Itachi does not speak.
He is still watching her with immense interest, as if there is a pressing matter he needs to know and she is deliberately barring him from the answer.
"I heard you were nominated for the Council's Mission. Congratulations," Itachi says nonchalantly.
"Thank you. Likewise with you, though that comes as no surprise," she answers.
"Best of luck to both of us then," he says, "We should go together."
Itachi's end comment does not register for several seconds.
"Go together?" She says bluntly.
"We are both nominated."
She stares unblinkingly at the grounds, stunned at the sudden straightforward proposal.
"You want to go together as partners?"
Itachi watches her with fleeting surprise.
"Partners?"
And this time, Izumi watches him in confusion.
"You want to go as partners?" Itachi continues slowly.
His tone heavily indicates puzzlement over acceptance.
"I…was that not what you meant when you say we should go together?"
"I presumed you would think we just go to the same place together…"
He trails off, and for the first time, Izumi senses a tidal wave of awkwardness from him. But comparatively to her, such emotions merely scratches the surface.
Izumi's assumption swirls in a maze of humiliation and embarrassment. She does not dare look at him for fear he may read through her frantic emotions.
"Oh…I'm sorry…I thought you meant…"
Her voice is small, and fades to barely above a whisper. This is not how she imagined it, in fact, the situation is worse than her anticipation of the worst.
There is a strange expression on Itachi's face, as if he is deep in concentration solving an incredibly complex puzzle.
The silence sits uncomfortably between them, until Itachi speaks.
"Izumi, please don't apologise. I would accept either way."
And when he stands, he reaches his hand for her.
"It's late. Let's go."
Without speaking, she accepts his offer in quiet puzzlement. And perhaps not strictly in relation to walking home together, but a passive, unspoken acceptance they go together as partners to the Council Mission's Ceremony.