Ch 159

The money Itachi gave me was more than enough, more than I honestly expected. I used it to buy new clothes. Simple, nothing flashy, but clean and intact. 

A far cry from the worn-out rags I'd been dragging around. The fabric felt foreign against my skin, soft in a way I'd almost forgotten. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, I looked in a mirror and smiled. The reflection wasn't perfect, but it was mine. That small sliver of normalcy felt like a quiet victory. 

But the clothes didn't change the waiting. It's been four days. Four days of killing time just to keep my mind from turning on itself. 

Push-ups, sit-ups, shadowboxing against the peeling walls of this cheap inn room. Anything to keep my body moving, to stay ahead of the thoughts circling like vultures. 

Every drop of sweat is a small act of rebellion, proof I still have control over something, even if it's just this. 

I'm not happy. Not even close. Mostly, I'm bitter. Bitter that I'm stuck here, waiting for them to return. 

For Itachi and Kisame, who are anything but predictable. The worst part? Knowing I have nowhere else to go. 

Running stopped being a solution a long time ago. It's never gotten me anything but scars and more dead ends. 

Running makes me smaller. Like I'm vanishing into my own shadow. If I want to change, I have to stop fleeing. 

So I'm here. Not because I trust them. Not because I have faith. But because I'm tired of always being the one who disappears. 

Four days of this same dull rhythm. Burned arms from push-ups. Bloodied knuckles from too many rounds with the trees. 

Rain-soaked walks along the village's edge, trying to shake the feeling that something's always watching. Just waiting. Still, I'm here. Still standing. Still breathing. 

They came back in the evening of the 4th day, just like Itachi said they would. I felt them before I saw them, the flicker of chakra on the edge of my senses, that familiar twinge that settled low in my chest. 

I stayed seated by the low table, pretending not to care, even though I'd kept the food warm and had glanced toward the window every few minutes for the last hour. 

Not waiting, of course. Just... making sure. 

The door creaked open, and there they were. Kisame stepped in first, water dripping from his cloak and a grin tugging at his face like he'd never been tired in his life. 

Itachi followed silently behind him, the dim light from the hallway catching on the edge of his collar and casting soft shadows across his face. 

"You're late," I said, voice even. 

"We're here," Itachi replied simply. That was enough. I didn't smile, but something loosened in me anyway. 

"I got food," I added, gesturing toward the table. "Still warm." 

Kisame chuckled. "You spoil us." 

I ignored the comment and sat down again. They joined me a second later, and the table filled with quiet sounds, the clink of chopsticks, the shifting of fabric. The warm scent of rice and grilled fish curled through the air. It was oddly... peaceful. 

"How are you two?" I asked, without looking directly at them. 

Kisame leaned back slightly, stretching out his long legs with a tired groan. "Well, Deidara's dead." 

I paused mid-bite and nodded once. "Blew himself up. I know." 

There was a beat of silence before Kisame whistled low. "You really do know everything, huh?" 

"I do that," I murmured, sounding almost amused. 

Kisame gave me a sideways look. "You surprise us every time. Gotta say, I didn't expect you to keep being so well-informed." 

I swallowed my bite, not smiling. "People always underestimate how much I know and notice. It's easier to pretend I don't know anything." 

"You're not wrong," Kisame replied, still half-grinning. 

I exhaled slowly through my nose, taking a moment to try and keep my words in check. When the idea wouldn't leave my head, I set my chopsticks down. 

"It's always like that. Every damn time. Maybe it's because I'm usually around people like Orochimaru or... you two," I added with a vague wave between them. 

"Geniuses. Prodigies. People with names that carry prestige. People expect me to just follow along quietly. And when I don't, they act shocked." 

I looked directly at Kisame then, sharp and tired. "Do you know how many people have looked me in the eye and talked down to me like I didn't have a single thought in my head?" 

Kisame blinked. "I wasn't—" 

"I know you weren't," I cut in, not angry, just... firm. 

"But it still grates. I've worked for everything I know. Learned things the hard way. I don't need to be some prodigy to be valuable. I'm not flashy. I'm not loud. But I know things. And just because I don't show off doesn't mean I don't see it all." 

Itachi glanced up from his bowl then, eyes calm but focused. He didn't say anything but from the look on his face, had an opinion. 

Kisame held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Point made. No one's underestimating you now." 

"Good," I muttered, picking my chopsticks back up. "About time." 

After that, the tension eased. The food warmed our bones and filled the quiet, and for once, the silence was easy. Familiar. 

Kisame talked a little more, mostly small things, observations from the road, jabs at the other Akatsuki members, some sarcastic commentary about Deidara's "brilliant exit." 

Itachi barely spoke, but his eyes stayed soft the whole time. There was something quieter about him tonight. Tired, maybe. Or maybe just... present. Something was up. 

When we finished, I started clearing the table without being asked. "I got you two rooms," I started as I stacked the dishes. "They're next to mine." 

Kisame raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" 

"I figured you'd be too tired to argue with some innkeeper about splitting a room," I replied dryly. "Consider it my thanks. Or a bribe to keep you from killing each other in your sleep. Either way." 

Itachi gave a quiet nod. "Thank you." 

I glanced at him, surprised he even said it with Kisame in the room. "You're welcome." 

Kisame stretched again and yawned, already heading for the door. "Well, I'm gonna go collapse face-first onto a futon. Try not to keep Itachi up all night with your brooding." 

I rolled my eyes. "Good night, Kisame." 

He waved lazily and left, and Itachi followed shortly after with a small, unreadable look in my direction. 

Once they were gone, I let myself breathe again. I washed my face, untied my hair, and slipped into bed. 

It seemed my bitterness of the last few days slipped out accidentally.

 Even when lying in bed, I wasn't able to sleep. I didn't try to. 

I knew he would come. 

Maybe it was stupid to expect it, but my body just... knew. The way it knew his chakra in a crowd, or the way it leaned toward him without thinking. 

So I laid there quietly, eyes open in the dark, waiting. 

The door creaked softly. No knock. No words. Just the quiet hush of footsteps across the floor. 

Itachi. 

He closed the door behind him without sound, his movements practiced. Even without his sight, he carried himself with the same ghostlike stillness. 

I didn't move as he made his way toward me. I just watched. He stopped beside the futon, looking down, or maybe listening for my breath, the sound of my heartbeat. 

Then his hand reached for me. Fingertips brushed my cheek. I didn't flinch, nor did I move. 

His palm settled gently against my skin, his warm hand was steady. Calloused in some places, soft in others. He traced the line of my jaw like he was mapping it from memory, reacquainting himself with what he could no longer see. 

I leaned into the touch slowly, letting my face press into his hand. I didn't need him to say anything. Because I understood. This was how he spoke now, not with long-winded words or careful explanations. 

Itachi had always been reserved, always kept people at a distance. But since losing his sight, he'd become more... present. More physical. As if he needed to feel the things he could no longer see, as if his hands were his eyes now. 

I didn't mind. Not even a little. His thumb brushed under my eye softly, and I let my hand come up to cover his. My fingers curled over his knuckles, grounding him there. Grounding me there. 

The bitterness I'd been holding, all those sharp-edged feelings about waiting, about being underestimated, about what we were even doing anymore, it all dulled beneath his touch. 

None of it mattered right now. Not when he was here. Not when he chose me to return to. Still, we said nothing. There wasn't a need. And for the first time in days, my chest didn't feel so heavy. Just warm.

His thumb slowed against my cheek, then stilled. A pause followed, hesitant, and then, softly, he asked, "Why do you let me do this?" 

His voice was quiet. Not distant like it sometimes was, but unsure. Like he couldn't understand how this was real. How I was real. Like maybe I'd vanish the second he pulled away.

I kept my eyes on him, steady. "Why shouldn't I?" 

It wasn't a challenge, not really. More of an invitation. I wanted to see what he'd do, how far he would go if I didn't move, didn't push, didn't stop him. 

I was being kind. Letting him take the lead. He didn't answer right away. I watched him, the subtle shift in his expression, the glint of something uncertain behind his almost blind eyes. 

His hand lowered slowly, and then he sat down beside me on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. Closer than before. I still didn't move. 

I could've leaned into him again. Could've reached for his hand, or his shoulder, or guided his face to mine. But I didn't. I tilted my head slightly, watching him through half-lidded eyes. Expectant. Curious. Waiting to see what he'd choose. 

He hesitated, just for a moment, then let out a quiet, breathy laugh, more air than sound, but still so distinctly him. 

He shook his head slowly, his lips curling at the edges in something like disbelief. "I don't deserve this," he lamented. "I don't deserve you."

I didn't say anything. Not out loud, at least. But deep down... I agreed with him. He didn't deserve me. 

Not after what he put me through. Not after all the silence, the lies, the half-truths buried under years of carefully built walls. Not after what he did, to me, to others, to himself. 

He carried so much blood on his hands, wore so much guilt that it clung to him like a second skin. I could still feel the echoes of all of it when I was near him. 

And yet... 

How could I hate him? 

How could I completely hate the one who had saved me more times than I could count? The one who never asked for anything but gave pieces of himself anyway? 

The one who, even in the worst moments, never looked at me like I was less. I should have hated him. 

For leaving me. For hurting me. For breaking me. For making me feel like I was disposable. But I didn't. Not really. 

Because even now, even when I knew better... 

I longed for him. 

I always had.

His hand lifted again, cupping my cheek with such tenderness that it almost hurt. His thumb dragged softly along my jaw, and I stayed still, letting him trace me like I was something fragile and sacred. 

I wasn't going to rush him. If he wanted this, if he really wanted it, he'd have to reach for it himself.

He leaned in, and my breath caught, just slightly, but he didn't kiss me. Instead, our foreheads met. 

The contact was light, but it sent a ripple through me. A deep, grounding sensation that stole the words from my throat. I closed my eyes, breathing in the closeness, letting myself feel him, the warmth of his skin, the weight of his presence, the careful restraint in his touch. 

It was intimate. 

More than a kiss could've been. 

Then I felt him lean in. His lips brushed against mine, not a kiss, not yet, just a whisper of contact, like a question. A warning. An offering. 

He was giving me a choice. The chance to pull away. To say no. To stop him before either of us crossed that line again. 

But I didn't. Instead, I mirrored him. I pressed my lips back against his, barely there, soft as breath, and in that moment, I gave him my answer. 

He smiled. Just a small one, barely more than a curve of his lips. But I felt it. Saw it. 

And then, finally... 

He kissed me. This time, fully. 

And I kissed him back.

A/n Hehehe, we got another one! Btw, the chapters are catching up with the publishing so a chapter a day will most likely end soon but it will start up again soon. I am writing like 2000 words, I don't know about you but that's a lot! Enjoy~