A/N:
Hello everyone: I know, it's been a long time hasn't it?
I am back after...a while. It has been truly a difficult time these past few years after finishing up university in spring of 2022 and with diving immediately into a demanding full time position-well let's just say burn out is incredibly real. I struggled for a long time to return to writing. As much as I love writing, I just couldn't write a single sentence without second-guessing every word, that it was just not good enough. Recently, I've found my way back to this joy and as I am someone who likes to finish her projects, I am hopeful I can complete this story this year - that is my goal.
I am hopeful that you all lovely readers are doing well and taking good care of yourself.
masayume-
Chapter 27. Blood
Like a cold winter's kiss,
one meets a frozen end.
The blade glistens in the moonlight,
and the cherry blossom begins its final descend.
The sun had yet to crest the mountains, leaving the Uchiha compound cloaked in predawn shadows. The faint glow of the kitchen fire was the only source of warmth as Usagi, the Uchiha matriarch's primary servant, stirred to begin her day. She wrapped herself in a plain navy kimono, its fabric worn yet tidy, a testament to her modest station. A steaming bowl of miso soup and a small portion of rice sat before her, the simple breakfast offering momentary reprieve from the cold seeping through the wooden walls.
The winter had been merciless, blanketing the landscape in snow that silenced the world. Usagi savored the fleeting comfort of the hearth, lingering longer than she ought. The quiet before the bustle of the household was a rare luxury, but reality tugged at her as her eyes settled on the overflowing wicker basket of soiled kimono. Laundry awaited, an unforgiving task in the icy grip of winter.
The sound of the door sliding open broke her reverie, and Masako, the head servant, entered. Her presence commanded respect, her every movement deliberate and precise. Masako's neatly knotted hair and immaculate kimono seemed impervious to the chaos of the household, a stark contrast to Usagi's own hastily tied obi.
Masako's gaze was sharp, assessing. "Do not dally, Usagi. The laundry cart is ready, and the kimono will not wash themselves."
Usagi hesitated, the chill of the outdoors already gnawing at her resolve. "Masako-san, perhaps I could assist here today? The snow—"
Masako's raised brow cut her off. "If you delay, the work doubles tomorrow. Or should I inform Sakura-sama of your reluctance?"
At the mention of her mistress, a flush of shame warmed Usagi's cheeks. Sakura-sama had always been kind, treating Usagi with a respect that bordered on friendship—a stark contrast to the late Mikoto-sama's stern formality. To fail her now would be unthinkable.
"No, Masako-san," Usagi murmured, bowing low. "I'll see to the laundry immediately."
Masako gave a curt nod, her attention already shifting back to the fire pit. "And Usagi?"
"Yes?"
"Be swift. Young Sasuke-sama departs today, and we must be prepared."
The mention of Sasuke sent a pang through Usagi's chest. Her grip on the wicker basket tightened as her mind wandered unbidden to the fleeting glimpses of the man behind the stoic façade—the way his expression softened in his sister's presence or the quiet, unexpected kindnesses he sometimes offered.
Flashback
Three summers past, the fields had been golden with ripened wheat, swaying in the gentle breeze. Usagi had been atop a horse-drawn cart, her hands moving in a steady rhythm as she loaded the last sheaves of grain. The day had been long, the sun relentless, but her spirit had been light.
"All done here. I'll take this to the mill," she called to a fellow worker, brushing stray strands of hair from her face.
She had barely climbed onto the cart's wooden ledge when a flash of green caught her eye—a serpent uncoiling with deadly precision. The startled horse reared, its terrified neigh slicing through the air as it bolted.
The world became a blur of motion. Usagi clung to the cart, her knuckles white as she struggled to hold on. The wheels rattled violently over the uneven ground, her cries for help drowned by the chaos.
When her grip finally faltered, she tumbled into the dirt, her breath knocked from her lungs. She lay there, stunned, until the sound of hooves approached.
A shadow loomed over her—tall, steady, and commanding. Sasuke dismounted his horse with practiced ease, his dark eyes scanning her for injuries.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice calm yet tinged with urgency.
Usagi could only shake her head, her words lost in the moment. The young lord extended a gloved hand, and she took it hesitantly, her fingers trembling against his. His touch was steady, grounding her as he helped her to her feet.
"You should be more careful," he said, his tone softening.
It was the briefest of exchanges, but it lingered in Usagi's heart, a memory she clung to even as the seasons changed.
End of flashback.
Masako's sharp voice yanked Usagi back to the present. "Did you not hear me?"
Usagi blinked, startled, to find the older woman standing before her with a disapproving frown.
"I-I heard, Masako-san," she stammered. "I'll return before Sasuke-sama departs."
The mention of his name made Masako's lips curl into a knowing smirk. The head servant's eyes gleamed with a secret Usagi dared not acknowledge.
"See that you do. Now go."
Clutching the wicker basket, Usagi fled into the biting cold, her cheeks burning—not from the chill, but from the weight of emotions she struggled to suppress.
The snow crunched under the wheels of the cart as Usagi guided the horse along the winding path leading out of the Uchiha compound. Beside her sat Mariko, bundled tightly in layers of wool and fur, her arms crossed against the biting cold. The air was crisp and heavy, the kind that pinched the lungs with every breath. Morning sunlight spilled over the snow-laden treetops, glittering like shards of glass.
Mariko groaned, pulling her scarf higher over her nose. "I swear, Usagi, I must have been cursed in a past life to end up doing this kind of work. Laundry. In the middle of winter. By a frozen river—only that old witch Masako is capable of ordering us to do this in the middle of this hellish weather. Tell me, does it get any worse than this?"
Usagi smirked, tightening her grip on the reins. "Well, it could always be worse? You hate cleaning and polishing the floors?"
Mariko rolled her eyes. "I'd take floors over frostbitten fingers. You know, if I had my way, I wouldn't be out here at all. I'd have my own shop in the village. A nice, cozy place with a roaring fire, shelves full of fine silks and fabrics. No washing, no scrubbing, no freezing my toes off."
"You've been saying that since we were kids," Usagi replied, her tone teasing. "If you'd just save your wages instead of spending them at every festival, you might actually get that shop one day."
Mariko gasped in mock offense. "How dare you accuse me of frivolity? I'll have you know that every coin I spend is an investment in my future happiness."
The two shared a laugh, their breath visible in the frigid air. The cart rattled as it hit a patch of uneven snow, and Mariko grabbed the edge for balance.
"What about you, Usagi?" Mariko asked after a moment. "Do you ever think about leaving the Uchiha compound? Doing something for yourself?"
Usagi hesitated, her gaze fixed ahead. "I like working for the Uchiha family. Sakura-sama is so wonderful, we should really be grateful we have such a healer as zokuchō's wife. And working for the head family, it feels… important. Like I'm part of something bigger than myself."
Mariko snorted. "You mean you like working forhim."
Usagi's cheeks flushed, and she shot her cousin a warning glance. "Don't start."
"Oh, come on! You've been mooning over Sasuke-sama for years—many girls in the compound do. Just admit it."
Usagi opened her mouth to retort, but her words were cut short as the cart came to a halt at the mouth of the river. The sound of the nearby waterfall filled the air, a steady roar that seemed almost too loud in the otherwise quiet landscape. The river stretched before them, its surface glazed with ice except for the flowing water near the falls.
Mariko hopped off the cart, brushing the snow from her cloak with a quick motion. "Well, let's get this over with. The sooner we—"
A low, serpentine voice slithered through the cold air, cutting her off mid-sentence.
"Ah, what a charming scene. Two diligent bees braving the cold for their noble duties."
Usagi's heart skipped a beat, her body locking in place as she recognized the voice. She froze, the blood draining from her face.
Out of the shadows, a figure emerged, stepping soundlessly from behind a cluster of bare trees. Orochimaru. His pale skin gleamed like the frost itself under the weak sunlight, his sharp, golden eyes glinting with an unsettling, predatory gleam. He moved with a disturbing fluidity, his black cloak billowing behind him like the shadow of a viper slithering through the snow. Each step seemed measured, deliberate—a predator savoring the moment before striking.
Mariko stiffened, her brow furrowing in immediate suspicion and caution. "Who are you?!" she demanded, her voice sharp, but there was a tremor in it as she instinctively stepped back.
Orochimaru smiled, a smile that was more chilling than reassuring, his lips curling into a cold, calculating expression. "Orochimaru," he said simply, the name hanging in the air with a sense of quiet malice.
Usagi's breath hitched in her throat as recognition hit her with the force of a physical blow. "Orochimaru…?" she whispered, eyes widening with the horror of it. "The White Serpent."
Before either of them could make another move, Orochimaru struck. The speed at which he moved was almost inhuman. His hand shot out with a blur, faster than the eye could follow.
A glint of silver flashed in the sunlight—a blade, honed to a razor's edge, appeared in his grip, and in the same instant, he seized Mariko by the arm. His fingers coiled around her like the grip of a snake, and with a swift motion, he pressed the cold steel of the blade to her throat.
Mariko gasped, her eyes wide with terror, her body going rigid as the blade's edge scraped against her skin, threatening to draw blood. She couldn't even find her voice. The world around her narrowed down to the cruel, glinting eyes of Orochimaru and the steady pressure of the blade against her throat.
"Don't move," Orochimaru's voice was a whisper, sharp as a knife itself, each word coated with the promise of something far darker.
Usagi stood frozen, panic and disbelief churning in her gut. The cold wind bit at her skin, but it felt like nothing compared to the chill that had settled deep in her bones at the sight of this merciless man. She had heard the tales, the legends that surrounded him, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality of the White Serpent before her, so close—so dangerously close.
Every second stretched out like an eternity as Usagi fought to regain her composure. She knew she had to act, but how? Orochimaru's presence seemed to seep into the very air, pressing against her chest, making it hard to breathe.
His eyes never left her, his smile widening, almost amused by her hesitation. "Shall we continue, then? There's so much more to discuss, I think."
"Stop!" Usagi cried, her voice breaking. She took a step forward, but Orochimaru's grip on Mariko tightened, and he tilted his head in mock amusement.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said smoothly. "One wrong move, and your dear cousin won't live to see another snowfall."
Mariko whimpered, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. Usagi clenched her fists, her mind racing.
"What do you want?" she demanded, her voice trembling.
Orochimaru's gaze flicked to her, and his smile widened. "You're a clever girl, Usagi. I'll make this simple. There's a certain person in your household I'd like to see… removed. A certainSakura."
Usagi's blood ran cold. "No. I won't—"
"Ah, ah," Orochimaru interrupted, his voice sing-song. He pressed the blade a fraction deeper against Mariko's throat, drawing a thin line of blood.
Orochimaru's cold eyes glinted as he tossed a small pouch toward Usagi, the fabric landing with a soft thud at her feet. His smile stretched thin, a mix of amusement and calculation. "Think carefully," he murmured, his voice smooth like silk but laced with danger. "It's a simple choice, really. Poison her, and your cousin lives. Refuse, and..." He let the threat hang in the air, his golden eyes flicking to Mariko, still struggling in his grasp.
Usagi's knees buckled, but she caught herself against the cart, her mind whirling, unable to grasp the gravity of the situation. How could she choose? How could she—
"Why her?" Usagi's voice cracked as she spoke, trying to buy herself precious moments to think. "What has Sakura-sama done to you?"
Orochimaru chuckled, the sound low and sinister, like a snake preparing to strike. "Let's just say her existence is… inconvenient," he said, drawing out the words with deliberate coldness. "But that's none of your concern. What matters is your choice."
Mariko's eyes locked with Usagi's, silently begging for her to find another way. Usagi's heart clenched, her throat tight with the pain of what was about to happen. Betray the family she had served, the woman she had sworn to protect—or lose the only family she had left.
With trembling hands, Usagi reached for the pouch, the weight of it far heavier than its small size. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath. "I… I'll do it," she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips, a bitter surrender.
"Excellent," Orochimaru purred, releasing Mariko with a sharp, almost casual shove. Mariko stumbled back, but Usagi's arms were quick to catch her, pulling her close as she fought to steady herself.
"I'll be watching," Orochimaru's voice floated in the air, light but darkened by threat. "Don't disappoint me."
The Uchiha compound was alive with the muted bustle of preparation as Sasuke and Naruto readied themselves for the long journey ahead. Snow continued to fall softly, blanketing the rooftops and courtyards in a shimmering layer of white. The cold air carried the faint scent of pine and ash from a distant hearth, mingling with the sound of horses stamping their hooves against the frozen ground.
Sasuke stood near the stables, his dark cloak drawn tightly around him, brushing fresh snow from his leather saddlebags. His expression was as composed as ever, but there was a sharp focus in his eyes, an unspoken determination. Beside him, Naruto adjusted the straps on his horse's bridle, his breath fogging in the frosty air as he muttered under his breath about the biting cold.
"You'd think they'd send us somewhere warmer," Naruto grumbled, yanking his gloves tighter.
Sasuke smirked faintly, securing a bedroll to his horse. "Are you saying you can't handle a little cold, Naruto?"
Naruto scowled, but there was no real malice behind it. "I can handle it just fine. I just don't see whywe'rethe ones who have to go."
"Because Itachi said so. We're the best for the job, easy."
At that, Naruto fell silent, though his expression was far from pleased.
Across the courtyard, the doors to the main house creaked open, and Itachi emerged. His presence commanded instant attention, his long black cloak sweeping over the snow as he approached. His face was calm, unreadable, but his dark eyes carried the weight of someone who had seen far more than his years should allow.
"You're both ready?" Itachi asked, his voice steady.
"Yes," Sasuke replied, straightening.
Naruto nodded, his earlier complaints vanishing under the weight of the moment.
Itachi studied them for a long moment, his gaze flickering between the two with an almost amused glint in his eyes. "The Grass country can be unpredictable, especially in winter," he said, his voice a mix of seriousness and a hint of teasing. "Stick to the roads where you can, and don't let your guard down. Trust each other, and remember why you're going."
Sasuke rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Yes, Itachi-sama," he said with mock solemnity.
Naruto, ever the eager one, grinned widely. "Of course, Itachi-sama! We'll make sure to stay out of trouble—well, I will," he added, giving Sasuke a playful nudge.
Sasuke gave Naruto a side glance, his expression softening just a little. "Yeah, sure, you will," he said dryly, his voice carrying that familiar teasing tone only siblings could understand.
Together, they bowed slightly, a shared moment of lightheartedness between them, before turning to face the journey ahead. Itachi watched them for a second longer, a small, almost imperceptible smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
A sudden cry broke the solemnity of the moment. "Sasuke!"
All three turned as Sachi ran across the courtyard, her small boots skidding slightly on the icy ground. She was bundled in a thick coat and scarf, but her cheeks were red from the cold and the tears streaming down her face.
Sasuke barely had time to react before she threw her arms around him, clutching him tightly. "Don't go," she sobbed, burying her face against his chest. "Please, don't go, Sasuke!"
Sasuke stiffened at first, clearly uncomfortable with the public display, but after a moment, he softened. His hand came up to rest gently on the back of Sachi's head.
"I'll be back," he said quietly, his voice low but firm. "I promise."
"But what if something happens?" Sachi cried, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. "What if you don't come back?"
"Nothing's going to happen," Sasuke said, kneeling slightly to meet her gaze. His expression was uncharacteristically tender, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You'll see. I'll come back, and I'll bring you something from the Grass country, okay?"
Sachi sniffled, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "Promise?"
"Promise."
Itachi stepped forward, placing a hand on Sachi's shoulder. "Let Sasuke go, Sachi. He has a duty to fulfill, just like all of us."
Sachi hesitated but finally nodded, stepping back reluctantly. Sasuke stood, brushing the snow from his knees, and gave her a final reassuring look before turning to mount his horse.
Naruto climbed onto his own horse, glancing back at the siblings with a faint grin. "Don't worry, Sachi. I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
Sasuke shot him a glare, but Naruto only laughed, the sound breaking through the somber mood like a beam of sunlight.
As the two riders turned their horses toward the compound gates, Sachi called out one last time. "Be safe, Sasuke!"
He didn't look back, but he raised a hand in acknowledgment, his dark cloak billowing in the cold wind.
Itachi watched them until they disappeared into the snowy landscape, his expression unreadable. When the gates creaked shut behind them, he turned to Sachi, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"They'll be fine," he said softly.
Sachi nodded, though her eyes lingered on the gates, the snow swirling around them. In the stillness that followed, the compound seemed emptier, the weight of their absence settling like the snow itself.
The Uchiha compound hummed with quiet efficiency. The glow of lanterns from the kitchen cast golden light onto the snow-covered courtyard outside. Usagi stood at the broad counter, the weight of the evening pressing against her shoulders. The comforting aroma of rice steaming and broth bubbling filled the air, yet it did little to soothe the storm roiling in her chest.
Masako, the head cook, worked beside her, a steady presence as she ladled soup into bowls with practiced ease. The older woman, sharp-eyed and brisk, had taken to Usagi over the years, often guiding her in the art of preparing meals worthy of the Uchiha head family. Tonight, Masako had entrusted much of the cooking to her.
"Mariko's shirking again, isn't she?" Masako's voice cut through the quiet, tinged with irritation. She sliced radishes with rhythmic precision, not looking up.
Usagi forced a laugh, her fingers trembling slightly as she diced scallions. "She said she'd handle the laundry near the storehouse. The cold isn't her favorite."
"Hmph. The cold builds character," Masako muttered. She set the knife down and scrutinized Usagi's handiwork. "Not bad. You've got a good eye for detail."
"Thank you, Masako-san," Usagi replied, bowing her head to hide the tightness in her expression.
Her gaze flickered to the polished lacquer trays on the counter. Two were meant for the dining room, each carefully prepared for Sakura and Itachi. Usagi had spent the better part of the afternoon ensuring every element was perfect. The fish, seared to a golden crisp, rested on a bed of lightly seasoned greens. The sides—fluffy rice and delicately pickled vegetables—completed the meal.
Masako busied herself at the stove, humming a low tune as she stirred a pot of miso soup. Usagi took the moment of distraction to slip her hand into her sleeve, fingers closing around the small pouch Orochimaru had pressed into her palm.
The powder inside was light, almost weightless, yet it felt like a stone in her hand. Her heart hammered in her chest as she carefully loosened the string. The kitchen seemed to shrink around her, the sound of Masako's humming fading into a dull thrum in her ears.
Usagi leaned over the tray meant for Sakura and Itachi. She froze.
Her mind raced with memories of Sakura's kindness, the way the Uchiha matriarch had smiled at her just days ago, offering warm words of gratitude for her hard work. And there was the child—Sakura's unborn heir, the future of the Uchiha clan.
Her breath hitched.
"I can't," she whispered under her breath, her fingers tightening around the pouch.
Masako turned slightly. "What was that?"
"Nothing!" Usagi said quickly, her voice a touch too bright. "Just talking to myself."
Masako snorted and returned to her work, muttering something about young people and their strange habits.
Usagi's hand moved almost of its own accord. The poison slipped from the pouch, blending seamlessly with the sauce meant for the fish. Her pulse quickened as she switched the plates, ensuring the poisoned fish was now on Itachi's tray.
She stared at the dishes for a moment, her chest heaving. The decision she'd made felt like a lead weight pulling her down, but she couldn't harm Sakura. Not her. Not the child.
Masako wiped her hands on a towel and came to inspect the trays. "Well, you've done a fine job tonight, Usagi. These will please even Itachi-sama."
"I hope so," Usagi murmured, bowing her head.
Masako didn't seem to notice the tension in her voice. She lifted the tray with practiced ease, balancing it on one arm. "I'll take these to the dining room. Go check on the tea, will you?"
"Yes, Masako-san."
As the older woman disappeared through the door, Usagi stood frozen in place. Her hands trembled, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts. She glanced at the corner of the kitchen where her small bundle of belongings sat.
Her resolve solidified. She reached for the bundle, slinging it over her shoulder. The snow outside bit into her cheeks as she stepped into the cold night, the silence of the compound almost suffocating.
The forest was eerily silent as Usagi approached the waterfall, its once-thundering roar muffled by the thick blanket of snow and ice covering the land. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an otherworldly glow on the frozen river. Usagi clutched her shawl tighter against the biting wind, her breath forming clouds in the frigid air.
Every step felt heavier than the last, her boots crunching through the untouched snow. The path she followed wound through towering pines, their branches laden with frost. Shadows stretched long and dark, their edges softened by the moonlight, but still, they seemed to move with her, watching her journey.
Ahead, the familiar shape of the waterfall came into view. The cascade of water had frozen mid-flow, creating jagged columns of ice that sparkled like crystals in the dim light. It was beautiful, but the scene sent a chill down Usagi's spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
Her gaze shifted, searching the clearing near the base of the waterfall for any sign of Mariko. At first, all she saw was the snow, undisturbed except for the faint trail of footprints leading to the edge of the clearing.
"Mariko?" Her voice trembled, barely audible over the whisper of the wind.
And then she saw it.
A figure lay crumpled near the ice-covered rocks, stark against the pristine white. Usagi's breath hitched as she recognized the faded blue of Mariko's winter cloak. Her cousin's dark hair spilled around her like ink on parchment, her body unnaturally still.
"No... no, no, no," Usagi whispered, her voice cracking. She stumbled forward, her knees buckling as she dropped beside Mariko's lifeless form.
Her hands trembled as she reached out, brushing the snow from Mariko's face. Her cousin's eyes were closed, her expression eerily serene, as if she'd simply fallen asleep. But the deep crimson stain on the snow beneath her told the truth—her life had been stolen.
"Mariko!" Usagi cried, her voice breaking. Tears burned hot trails down her frozen cheeks as she clutched Mariko's hand, willing it to move, to squeeze back, to show some sign of life. But there was nothing. Only the unyielding cold.
A low, mocking chuckle echoed through the clearing, freezing the air in Usagi's lungs.
She spun around, her tear-blurred eyes landing on a figure emerging from the shadows. Orochimaru stood there, his snake-like grin stretching impossibly wide, his pale face illuminated by the moonlight. His yellow eyes gleamed with cruel amusement.
"You did well to come, little Usagi," he hissed, his voice a poisonous melody.
"You… you said you wouldn't hurt her!" Usagi screamed, her voice raw with grief and fury.
Orochimaru tilted his head, his grin never faltering. "Oh, my dear, you didn't think I would let her go, did you? She was merely… motivation." He gestured lazily toward Mariko's lifeless body. "And she served her purpose beautifully."
Rage coursed through Usagi, hotter than the bitter cold around her. She lunged at him, her hands outstretched, her grief fueling her desperation. But Orochimaru moved like a shadow, his figure blurring as he sidestepped her attack.
Before she could react, his hand shot out, grabbing her by the arm and wrenching her back. She cried out in pain as he forced her to her knees, her body trembling with fear and fury.
"You should be proud," Orochimaru murmured, leaning in close. His breath was icy against her ear. "You've played your part well. But alas, your usefulness has come to an end."
Usagi's eyes widened as the glint of a blade caught the moonlight. She struggled, her voice breaking into desperate pleas. "Please… no…!"
But Orochimaru was merciless. The blade flashed, and Usagi felt a sharp, searing pain at her throat. Her hands flew to her neck, warm blood spilling through her fingers as she gasped for air.
The world around her blurred, the icy landscape spinning into a kaleidoscope of white and red. She collapsed onto the snow, her body growing heavier with each passing second. The cold seeped into her bones, numbing her as her life ebbed away.
Her blood pooled beneath her, staining the pristine snow a vivid crimson. Above her, the moon seemed to grow brighter, its light washing over her as her vision faded.
The last thing she saw was Mariko's still form, lying a few feet away, her cousin's face peaceful in death.
The snow continued to fall, blanketing the clearing in a shroud of quiet stillness. The icy wind carried away the last echoes of Usagi's cries, leaving nothing but the whisper of the frozen waterfall.
A/N: As before, please review. Writing is an all-consuming experience and whenever we (the authors/writers) receive a review it brings us joy and we feel appreciated — that our hard work is recognized — and it gives us motivation and inspiration to keep going.