Uchiha Izumi wore a purple dress, pants rolled up, her fair feet in the clear stream, delicate toes rubbing river pebbles.
Her expressive eyes glanced at the water, tinged with unease, fearing Tsukikage would ignore her.
"Do you remember our first mission, facing a similar path choice, your suggestion?" Tsukikage asked calmly, meeting her gaze.
Izumi turned away, memories flashing. A past blunder resurfaced—her confident suggestion led the team into an ambush. Her cheeks reddened.
Since then, as if afflicted by a curse of choices, Izumi always picked wrong.
"But… we escaped the village because I chose to follow you!" she mumbled, head bowed, eyes darting, toes nervously polishing a pebble smooth.
"I made the choice for you," Tsukikage said plainly. "We'll take the mountain path through Kikyō no Sato and search for a medical ninja. Tell the others—five minutes to rest, eat, then we move."
His tone was steady, unquestionable.
"Yes!" Izumi replied, face flushed, standing at attention. Her foot slipped, and she tipped backward.
"Ah!" Panic flashed in her eyes as she flailed, dropping her ninja shoes, grabbing Tsukikage's right hand to steady herself.
"Phew—" Izumi exhaled, her pretty eyes wide with relief, willow brows furrowed, pitiably delicate.
She glanced at the now-glossy pebble, heart racing.
Tsukikage eyed her—startled like a fawn, flustered. Without overthinking, he let her lead him ashore, her palms smooth as jade.
The touch wasn't bad.
On the dry riverbank, pebbles gritty underfoot, Izumi snapped back, releasing his hand, her cheeks dyed like cherry clouds.
The other Uchiha, drawn by her yelp, looked over.
Izumi's face reddened like an apple as she scrambled for her sandals.
Tsukikage paid it no mind.
Izumi's heart raced, yet holding his hand had wrapped her in a sense of safety. Guilt stirred—she'd once admired Itachi, but his slaughter of clan civilians was unforgivable.
Compared to Tsukikage, who, as Tamao said, sacrificed the doomed to save the living, Itachi had turned his blade on the innocent.
Sorrow crossed Izumi's face. Shaking her head, she shelved the dilemma, hurrying after Tsukikage.
The temporary camp sat by the stream.
The Uchiha gathered around a small fire, roasting two rabbits on a spit, the savory aroma mingling with sizzling oil dripping into the flames.
Minamikaze and his two teammates had hunted the game.
Ninja survival skills surpassed civilians'—even a genin wouldn't starve in the wild.
"Captain Tsukikage, this rabbit's done. You first!" Minamikaze offered the fattest one, its golden, crispy skin dripping with oil.
Tsukikage nodded, accepting it.
Minamikaze returned to his seat.
The other eight Uchiha then split the remaining rabbit, devouring it in moments, leaving no bones.
Lips glistened with grease.
Starved for days, the roasted meat briefly dulled the pain of their clan's fall.
"Hey, besides Big Bro Tsukikage, look at your table manners—like you've never eaten! Oi, why'd I get just a head and butt, Minamikaze, save me some…" Tamao griped.
Lying flat, wrapped in fresh bandages, still weak but awake, he was ignored.
Only his two subordinates prepared to feed him.
At the fire's edge, Uchiha Mikoto watched blankly, her face emotionless.
She received no food, shunned by the others.
Though blameless—merely Fugaku's housewife, uninvolved in clan politics—the Uchiha saw her as the weak patriarch's wife, mother of a murderer.
For two days, Mikoto hadn't eaten or drunk, silent during the escape, her face haggard.
"Quit hogging the food! Share some with the boss's wife!" Tamao bellowed, gnawing rabbit meat.
His two subordinates exchanged puzzled looks.
"Who's the boss's wife?" Minamikaze frowned, his honest mind grappling, coming up blank.
Keen Uchiha minds shifted to Izumi.
Tamao's only "big bro" was Tsukikage, but who was this "wife"?
With only two women, Izumi, Itachi's age and munching rabbit, didn't fit.
Izumi felt their stares, as if bathed in stage light at center. Her cheeks reddened, and she nibbled her meat silently.
Then, except for slow-witted Minamikaze, the Uchiha turned to Mikoto, realization dawning, rabbit meat nearly falling from their mouths.
They studied her.
The clan leader's wife, rarely seen outside the patriarch's estate, was strikingly beautiful. Unlike Izumi's budding youth, Mikoto exuded mature elegance.
Her dark kimono hugged her frame, black hair cascading like a waterfall, face cold yet refined, bare of makeup yet gracefully poised.
Her lotus-like arms peeked from sleeves, hands delicate, fingers slender as bamboo shoots. Her kimono hem hinted at graceful curves.
Mikoto met their gazes impassively, her noble aura unshaken.
The Uchiha averted their eyes, wary of disrespecting the clan's once-exalted figure, her presence almost tangible.
Minamikaze blinked. "Who's the boss's wife?"
Tamao, weak but loud, roared, "Uchiha Mikoto!"
(End of Chapter)