Beneath the accretion of a billion stars, they sit by a makeshift fire and contemplate the day's event. The quietude is congruent with that of a restive atmosphere, but it is each other's presence that keeps negativity at bay.
For the past six hours, Izumi lies in a state of unconsciousness. She shows diminutive signs that indicates a return to reality, however, her chakra is fluctuating with unusual momentum.
The movement is reminiscent of the haphazard chakra Itachi once saw in her. Back at the caves and between the claustrophobic tunnels, he recalls the sounds of her wispy breathing, and the fear that corroded her face. Only this time, the components lie beneath the surface of her unconscious features.
Why is this happening again?
"There is a small unused cabin nearby. We should relocate Izumi before the night gets colder," Shisui says.
He approaches from a brief scout of their surroundings. There is an unusual look of disapproval that imprints his expression, as if his mind is clouded by other pressing matters.
When they arrive at the cabin, Honoka suddenly speaks with surprising interest.
"Excuse me, but the cabin has only one single room. May I clarify that we will all be sleeping in here together?"
At the comment, Shisui sends her a sharp reproachful look, as if the action is automatic and his mind has yet to comprehend the sentence.
"No, that will not be the case," Shisui answers.
His tone is unpredictably soft, an element that is inconsistent with his earlier action.
When Honoka faces him, he turns from her and gazes vacantly at something behind.
"Shisui, do you have a plan?" Itachi asks.
He is momentarily silent, as if the question precipitated a cascade of thoughts that requires processing.
"Itachi, it sounds to me like Izumi experienced something like this before. What's the prognosis?"
The last time, Izumi was barely conscious. Her current state may mimic that of their cave ordeal, but he gets the instinct she is much deeper in her trauma than she was previously. Still, the minute traces of movement indicates some level of improvement, and he is hopeful she will wake sometime late into the night.
He explains the situation to Shisui, who is gazing speculatively at Izumi with every passing detail.
"You seem to know Izumi's state the best out of all of us here, so I will let you take care of her. The mission still needs to be completed, considering the urgency in Mid-West Town. Good news is that it is just a short hike over that mountain," he points vaguely in the western direction, "so we should be back in less than twenty four hours."
He pauses, then finally turns to Honoka.
"Honoka, you will be coming with me to complete the mission."
He speaks in a forcibly composed tone that is easily mistaken for a direct command. But Itachi knows him well. The fragments of discomfort may be negligible, but to someone like Shisui, every wisp of emotion holds a significant amount of meaning.
"I see. May I ask what time of day that would be?"
Shisui is looking at her as if he does not understand the question.
"If you could get ready, we will need to leave as soon as possible."
"I see. May I go down to the river for a little bit before that?"
The question evokes an unpleasant sensation that has no exact origin. Itachi is unsure whether the unease relates directly to Honoka or a set of artificial orders that surrounds her.
Shisui's peculiar expression indicates he may have the same thoughts as Itachi, yet beneath his gaze, there is a series of solicitous emotions he does not recognise.
"Yes, please be careful."
When Honoka disappears, Itachi suddenly speaks with frank consternation.
"Shisui, I know what you are thinking, but is taking Honoka on your own a good idea?"
He holds the silence, and the increasingly rigid atmosphere that pervades with uncertainty.
"Don't worry, Itachi. I can take care of myself. Just focus on Izumi. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Hesitancy may not fully explain his tone, but he speaks with wavering confidence.
Honoka was and still is the common denominator to Shisui's apprehension. Even with all evidence pointing towards uncertainty, Itachi has no choice but to put all his faith in Shisui.
x
Three hours since Shisui and Honoka's departure, there is a breakthrough. The minute signs of life that slowly transpires into gentle hand movements.
Her warmth beckons his awakening, and for the very first time since her collapse, he can finally sense the stabilisation in her chakra.
But it was her uneven breathing and the anomalous beats of her heart that kept him roused. He remembers the sudden drop in her temperature, the bizarre movements of her chakra and the escalating fear that lined her unconscious expression. Without thought, as if he could reach through and shield her from her world of nightmares, he held onto her. And the longer he did, the more normalised her vitals became.
For hours on end, her security infiltrates and sits complacently within the recess of his core. Safety in her world is what palliates the pain in his. And only when he fully assimilates her presence does he notice the fragility. She is so incredibly small and soft against his bigger, hardened form.
There is an air of purity and innocence that exudes from her, as if she is yet to experience the full force of this disgusting reality. Only then does he realise the need to protect her from that darkened void. The future that may taint her and forcibly propel her into a world that is rife with desolation and despair.
Instinct predicts a foreboding set of events that concerns his village and his clan. Itachi cannot repudiate the escalating tension and the dire repercussions that may follow. If there is one thing he so wants to change, and protect, it is the peace. And peace for him comes in the form of protection - for the sake of his village, his family, Shisui and Izumi. Even if that instinct foreshadows the shouldering of a monumental burden, he will do it.
"Itachi."
Like a guiding light, Izumi's soft murmur breaks his darkened reverie.
Beneath beams of moonlight, he sees her semi-conscious state. She is searching for something - him, and when her eyes open just that fraction, there is palpable relief across her features.
"Itachi, prodigies are supposed to be cool and mysterious, so being close to someone like this means you will lose your coolness," she mutters.
He stares incredulously at her. And when he awaits elaboration, she only falls back into a sleep-like state.
As the silence impinges, he almost laughs at her nonsensical comment. She is speaking her (delirious) mind, rather than voicing anything that is remotely comprehensible.
Then, he is leaning forwards and pressing his lips to her forehead.
"But even prodigies can fall in love."