In the weeks that follows, summer peaks with the sumptuous arrival of Konoha's Fireworks Festival. The never-ending joy simmers contently amongst villagers and visitors alike, yet a small portion of the population have retreated from the imminent celebrations.

Though outward changes are kept to the very minimum, the Uchihas' resentment continues to spread between villagers like rapid wildfire. Rumours of their Nine-tail involvement leaks into every gap and crack, until even the youngest villagers are wary of who they can and cannot associate with.

Vigilant of the village's careful watch on him and rising suspicions of his recent absence, Itachi has learnt to bury the glaze expression beneath the attentive look he now presents to his father.

Uchiha Fugaku is ignorant to the minute changes in Itachi's passive hostility, however, it may be the desperation to reclaim the clan's superior standing that forces him to bypass his son's austerity.

"Itachi, ensure you are present at tomorrow night's meeting," Fugaku says.

"Yes," Itachi answers.

The hesitancy in his demeanour does little to quell Fugaku's doubt that his son will adhere to such commands. But he cannot speak his mind nor his feelings, considering Itachi's abrupt departure.

The lingering diffidence should be the least of his concerns, yet as the clan's leader and the status his prodigy son holds amongst the clan and village, Itachi's loyalty is crucial to any further success.

x

"Itachi, you are blanking out again."

Her presence is that gentle breeze on a hot summer's evening. It cools the pervasive thoughts and sends a weightless serenity only his subconscious can fathom.

"It must be the weather," he answers.

Izumi frowns.

"What a horrible excuse," she replies reproachfully.

She sits beside him beneath the darkened skies, carefully perusing the faraway scenery of stunted hills.

There is something to her propinquity that spells a lifetime of contentment, yet it does not provide a level of trustworthiness he gets from being with Shisui.

Though he does not wish to categorise them so bluntly, it is the only way his mind seems to make sense of things.

With Izumi, the exchanging of words is unnecessary. Her presence is simply enough to placate his inner turmoils.

"The Fireworks Festival is coming. Will you be going?" She asks.

"That would depend on the amount of reports and errands I have," he answers.

Izumi does not speak, but her features express disappointment. And in the same moment, Itachi notices a pastiness to her skin. He likens it to the brightly lit stars, though even with such illumination, her tone is unusually chalky.

"Izumi?" He says.

He faces her square on, half expecting she will turn and look at him. But she remains in the same sitting position, with her knees pressed firmly to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around her small body.

"What is it?" She says softly.

Izumi does not face him. Her side visage is obscured by the fall of her hair.

Without thinking, Itachi gently pulls back the curtains of her hair to reveal a sickening shade of white. Izumi's skin has morphed into that of a porcelain doll, albeit the colour is bizarrely artificial.

"Itachi, what are you doing?"

She breathes uneasily but does not flinch at his touch.

"Are you okay?" He asks, "You look unwell."

His voice is perplexed, a perfect mimic of the look Izumi gives him.

For a brief moment, there is a flicker of anxiety that skims the surface of her gaze. He cannot read her sudden change in expression, but there is a knot of intuitive apprehension that gnaws at his core.

"I'm okay, don't worry about me," she says lightly, "just tired. A bit of sleep should do the trick."

She gestures airily at him before standing.

"Itachi, you should get some rest too. Self-care is equally as important, if not more, than missions and report writing."

Her sudden need for departure sends a wave of disconcertment through him.

"Izumi, I will see you at the Fireworks Festival," he says firmly.

Her smile is purely that of gratitude.

When she turns to leave, he cannot help but feel a sense of imminent foreboding. Though his conscious is unable to see or feel it, Izumi's existence interconnects with certain elements of himself.

As if every aspect of her world is innately linked through his intuition, he knows with utmost certainty that Izumi will disappear if he were to turn his back.