In the midst of high spirited sounds and exhilarating music, Itachi sidesteps the thrill and awaits her arrival by the training grounds.
Punctual as he always is, Izumi's recognised tardiness is never a deterrent for mimicking her behaviour. Regardless of her anticipated arrival fifteen minutes later, Itachi is by the meeting point at their agreed time.
Neither speak from then on, as if they prefer the transient stillness prior to facing the crowded village streets.
But it may not be counterproductive to the lingering emotional upheaval. Last night's discussion with Shisui has manifested in the form of physical and mental numbness. And despite the inviting quietude, his mind hangs ever so delicately on a string of disorder. He cannot help but latch to the dreaded feelings of uncertainty, that is, of his father's questionable plans.
The burden to pick a side weighs heavily, yet the expectation that he stand by his clan's decision warrants a deeper level of dissatisfaction. Though his muse is suspended somewhere in the realm of unease, part of his mind replays the guilty emotions - his promise to Shisui that he step down from those ubiquitous concerns and focus on the clan later.
"Itachi."
In normal circumstances where his mind is adrift, it may take several calls to break his reverie. Yet he hears her soft voice saunter through as if she is already standing beside him in the darkness of his thoughts.
When he turns to her comment, Izumi's watch is fearful. To the outside world, her expression is interpreted as concern, but Itachi has an inexplicable ability to discern her underlying emotions.
"You seem troubled," she says quietly.
He does not speak because his expression translates perfectly. Izumi does not question his silence, as if she understands his non-verbal answer.
When the feelings of unease circulates and rises, Izumi takes his hand and barricades the escalating discomfort. His response is remarkably minimal, with the exception of his hand, which automatically encloses itself over Izumi's.
Perhaps he is naive to such situations, but the innocence of their action is only something they can fully comprehend.
The disturbing emotions dissipate, and together with the raging thoughts, they melt away into the depths of his mind.
It may be the security he gets from Izumi, or the comfort of her proximity, but either way, he is eternally grateful for the brief respite.
x
Shisui's punctuality surpasses his by a mile. He is already waiting for them by the gates of Konoha's Athenaeum where the Council's Mission ceremony takes place.
And before Izumi and Itachi can break their hand contact, Shisui is already processing their act with a peculiar expression that spells a whole lifetime of mockery.
"Early as always," Izumi says.
Her face is unusually flushed and Itachi wonders whether it has anything to do with the sarcastic look Shisui is giving them.
"Hello there," Shisui replies slowly.
He surveys Itachi closely but decides that tonight may not be a good time for some friendly derision.
"I'm waiting for Nanami, so I'm surprised you're somewhat on time today, Izumi," he says impressively.
"Question my tardiness one more time," she snaps warningly, as Shisui raises his hands in resignation.
"Nanami is probably on par with Izumi when it comes to lateness-" Itachi agrees.
"Hey! Whose side are you on?" Izumi interjects grumpily.
"Shisui's."
His blunt, short answer earns him an approving grin from Shisui and a reproachful frown from Izumi.
"Excuse me Shisui, Izumi and Itachi, may I join in on the conversation?"
The familiar vacant tone is strong, and when Itachi faces Honoka, he is unsure whether it is her unusually lively face or her interesting choice of dress that baffles him.
"Hi Honoka," Shisui says cheerfully as Izumi stares inquisitively at her.
To those who exist within the spectrum of 'normality', Honoka is indisputably bland.
Everything from her looks to the way she dresses, together with her monotonous interactions with the world, is saturated in dullness.
However, the dress she wears tonight is different from her usual boring brown. It is seemingly three sizes too big for her, paired with its unappealing putrid green-brown colour and a style that suits the elderly woman next door, he wonders of its origin and intention. Itachi does not venture into the sphere of what is considered appealing, but even someone like him can distinguish between appropriate and inappropriate.
Yet unsurprisingly, Honoka looks bizarrely proud.
On Izumi's end, he notices a mixture of incongruent emotions. The expression borderlines disconcertment, guilt and perhaps amusement, as if she is responsible for an embarrassing situation and is refusing to acknowledge it.
"Shisui would you like to-"
Honoka's sentence is cut short by the arrival of two people.
"Izumi!"
Yuki edges herself in between Itachi and Izumi, an oddly triumphant look on her face as she glances over at Honoka.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Shisui."
Nanami's voice is tentative as she speaks openly to the group without glancing at Shisui.
"We should go, the hall is filling up," Yuki says, "And you two," she gestures at Itachi and Izumi, "you need to be seated at the front row as nominees. Everyone have their tickets?"
Then, she drags them away and pushes Shisui and Nanami towards the gate.
"Time to go!" She continues loudly.
"Uh…sorry Honoka, speak soon," Shisui says uncertainly.
Puzzled, Itachi and Izumi glances behind. Honoka is staring confoundedly at their sudden departure, perhaps highly unaware that she is not welcomed in the group's presence.