He sat on the edge of his bed, the soft amber glow of the lamp casting long shadows against the walls. The room was still. Quiet.

His elbows rested on his knees, hands loosely clasped, eyes staring at the floor—but his mind was far from it.

He was thinking about her.

Konan.

Specifically, that moment.

When she had leaned in, calm as ever, and pressed her forehead against his. When she smiled at him like the world wasn't ending around them. When her presence silenced everything screaming in his mind.

At the time, he hadn't thought. He'd simply acted—instinctively, desperately, like a man grabbing for the last thread of something real.

But now…

Revisiting it, turning it over slowly in his mind, Itachi felt something unfamiliar flutter in his chest.

Warmth.

He could still feel it—the way her hair brushed against his, a soft spill of blue. The way her amber eyes didn't just look at him—they saw him. Without judgement. Without fear. And her hands… slow, soothing, drawing small circles on his back as he held her like a man trying not to fall off the world. He hadn't let himself feel in so long. Not truly.

Everything had been restrained, buried, locked down for the sake of duty. Her slight hums when she held him. The way her breath felt against his neck in that quiet was…

beautiful.

Not just in the way people spoke of looks. In the softness she gave him, even when he didn't know how to ask for it. And he wasn't going to lie to himself.

Not again. Not like he did when Izumi reached out and he pulled away. Not like he did when his mother tried to comfort him and he looked past her, pretending to be strong.

No.

He wasn't going to wait for this feeling to grow until it became a weight.

He wasn't going to pretend he didn't notice.

Rip off the bandage. Confront it. Face it. To himself, or to her.

He liked Konan.

He didn't know how, but he didn't care why.

Maybe it was his desperation. His mind clinging to the first source of hope. Of warmth and of affection that he had witnessed since so long. Maybe it was her, how she took care of him, talked to him. Looked at him... How beautiful she looked.

He wasn't one that wanted love. Or so he thought. He in fact very much did. But his duties and responsibility made him crush the thought of any sort of romance or bond that went beyond transactional.

After his crashout, Itachi's body had collapsed under the sheer weight of what he'd unleashed—emotionally and physically. The Mangekyō Sharingan, powerful as it was, bore a price no shinobi could ignore forever. And now, the debt had come due.

They were staying in another secluded hideout near The Land of Fire, Konan had sent a redacted report to Pain about her and Itachi's whereabouts, once again omitting the true scale of the incident… and his condition. which were for the best...for both of them. Initially she had witness Pain's slight displeasure as they had gone for almost a week now but eventually gave them the leeway they wanted. They...wanted

She didn't care if she burned a favor or two for Itachi. But she Konan, the angel of Amegakure had earned her leeway. His violent release of emotions that had been building up wasn't a weakness

It was human.

She knew all he went through, mainly the Uchiha massacre and how his little brother had to live in solitude while the one person that could and desperately wanted to give him company, couldn't.

He stepped out of the room, the floorboards creaking softly beneath his feet. The hallway was dim, lit only by the silver hue of moonlight seeping through the slats of a shuttered window. As he moved forward, he caught the sound of drawers opening and closing from one of the nearby rooms. Curious, he followed the noise.

The door was slightly ajar. He nudged it open quietly—and paused. Inside, stood Konan She had discarded the Akatsuki cloak in favour of something more grounded—a fitted black jacket cropped just above the waist, its high collar and half-zipped front revealing a slate-grey tank top beneath. The sleeves were rolled to her elbows, giving her a relaxed but capable appearance. Slim charcoal trousers hugged her frame with subtle stitched patterns running down the legs, a thin utility belt cinched at her waist. her hair—unbound, flowing down her till her neck. A few strands drifting across her face as she turned, catching on her lips. She turned at the sound of his footsteps.

"You're awake," she said, offering a gentle smile.

He nodded, caught slightly off guard—not by her words, but by how she looked in that moment. Ethereal. Quietly beautiful. He felt a faint flutter in his chest and cleared his throat.

"Yeah," he said softly.

"It's still late," she replied, turning back to close the drawer. "But I'd suggest you eat something. Your body's still recovering."

"Okay..." He hesitated, fingers fidgeting lightly by his side. "Um—Konan?"

"Yes?" she replied, glancing over her shoulder.

"Would you... come with me?"

It was a simple question, but it caught in his throat. He didn't understand why it felt so heavy.

She didn't miss a beat.

"Sure," she said, closing the last drawer gently.

As she passed him on the way to the hallway, her fingers brushed lightly against his. The contact was brief, but it sent a sudden warmth rushing to his face. He turned his head slightly, hoping the blush didn't betray him—but thankfully, she didn't seem to notice.

He followed her quietly, eyes tracing the way her hair swayed with each step, like it was dancing in rhythm with her. At one point, she turned her head slightly, catching his gaze—and smiled.

Then turned back.

His eyes widened just a little. Had she seen the look on his face? That flicker of awe he hadn't meant to show to her?

He wasn't sure.

But he wanted to find out. He wanted to hurry, but also wanted to patient. The circumstances, her, her organization. All that hadn't left his mind, he still knew that but managed to suppress those thoughts. That was one thing he was very used to. Damn it, even after all this he had to keep his feelings close to himself. But he wanted to change that. He experienced how it felt once after so long and he couldn't go back. It felt great.

She felt great.

He watched her as she cooked alongside him, the way she smiled whenever she saw him looking at her for a tad-bit too long. Did she figure it out? He didn't know yet.

But he knew he should be patient. He watched her eat alongside him. They were sitting close. There elbows brushing against each other, it made his face heat up slightly as he could tell she didn't mind it either. But it cannot remain like this forever either building this further or breaking this down, he didn't know where this was gonna go.

Because it was time to return to The Akatsuki.

...

After a long, eventful week, Konan and Itachi finally returned to the Akatsuki's main base. The familiar chill of stone walls and flickering torchlight greeted them, along with the unmistakable sound of Deidara's snickering. He stood, arms crossed and ever the provocateur, beside a decidedly unimpressed Kisame.

"You both sure took your time," Deidara quipped, smirking.

Itachi turned his head, his Sharingan already spinning, its crimson gleam sending a silent warning. Deidara scoffed, exasperated. "Tch... no fun," he muttered, backing off before he was pulled into another one of Itachi's genjutsu-induced nightmares.

Before long, Pain emerged — a looming presence whose voice, though calm and even, always carried the gravity of judgment. His eyes, Rinnegan aglow, settled on Itachi.

"Itachi Uchiha," he intoned.

"Pain," Itachi replied, his voice composed, unreadable.

"You've been gone for a week."

"Yes. I assume Konan has already informed you of the circumstances surrounding my absence."

"She has. I understand Orochimaru and his assistant have been... handled."

"They have."

Pain gave the faintest nod.

"Good. A productive outcome for the group. Take the rest of the day to recover. Tomorrow, you'll depart on your next mission — to Konoha. You'll be paired with Kisame. "

"At last... we have located the jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails."

A subtle shift in the air — the kind of stillness before a storm.

"The Kyūbi… the most powerful of the tailed beasts. Contained within a boy. No older than your brother, Itachi. But not ordinary by any means. Blonde hair like sunfire. Eyes blue as a clear sky, and yet burdened with the weight of a world that turned its back on him. He wears an orange jumpsuit, loud and foolish at first glance — but beneath it burns a spirit unyielding. His name… is Naruto Uzumaki."

"You will infiltrate Konoha with Kisame, without drawing unnecessary attention. Extract the jinchūriki… or the beast itself. Swiftly. Efficiently. The time for patience has ended."

Itachi's eyes narrowed slightly. It was going to be his first time in Konoha since the massacre but he didn't think of that. Most importantly he would meet his brother Sasuke...or he'd hope he could just get a glance at him to see if he is doing well. He really hoped Sasuke was training hard to get stronger. He had to be. He took every measure to put Sasuke on a path that would push him to get stronger.

The Path of strength, fueled by Hate.

Ever since he was a kid he only knew two ways one could get stronger. Hate and Pain. And more so because he was an Uchiha. The Sharingan was a dojutsu that was activated when someone experienced those two emotions. And it evolved further when those feelings of hatred and pain were amplified. It was how Itachi grew up and became stronger.

First his sharingan when a close comrade died in front of him at the age of 10, then the Mangekyo Sharingan that he activated after witnessing the suicide of his closest friend. Shisui Uchiha. He still remembered how much it hurt. Physically less so than mentally. Shisui was more than a friend yet he was killed by the game of power that was played by the higher ups. Giving your all to stop conflict and war until your legs give. And you cannot run anymore. You collapse on the ground, panting coughing, but there would be no one to pick you up.

The world moves on.

Shisui died but people rarely cared. It did not stop his father Fugaku to further push the coup. Nor it stopped that leech Danzo's blood thirsty lust for power and control that was disguised swiftly under "protecting the village". Only the ones that fight on the battlefield know what the leaders that shout orders from the back want. He knew what Danzo wanted yet was powerless do anything about it. He could've killed him, but the world is not as 1-dimensional as you can think.

Even the Third Hokage was a coward who failed to take decisions that required courage.

He never spoke against Danzo's unchecked power. Despite being the Hokage the village elders had more control over the leaf's actions. Danzo leaking the SSS ranked confidential information that was the young jinchuriki of the nine tails. A blonde boy from a now extinct clan and somewhat close to his own brother, Naruto Uzumaki. The information about him being the jinchuriki was never meant to be revealed to the village.

Yet it did, and the culprit was obvious. Yet the hokage did nothing about it.

Itachi respected the Hokage but he wasn't a blind follower. And he knew that Hirzuen Sarutobi was a coward at best...

or a deluded idiot at worst.

Either way, all that he concluded from this was hate was the only way a shinobi could get stronger. Whether it served as fuel to push forward or triggered a power hidden deep within. To him, it was obvious.

He gave a slight nod to Pain as the leader proceeded to leaved. He turned his head to see Konan who had returned to her usual state he saw her when he first came here. But seeing him, her eyebrows softened a bit and after looking at each other for a tad bit longer than usual Itachi turned away to proceeded to move to his living quarters while simultaneously glaring Deidara whom he knew was not going to shut his mouth up if he didn't make him.

Tomorrow would be a long day.

...