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(PoV Sasuke)
Steam rose slowly — shaaa… — tracing the air with threads of light. The white mist slid down the bathroom walls, wrapping everything in a soft scent of soap. Hana turned the faucet, testing the water with the back of her hand — clac, tchhh, ploc — until it fell warm, not hot, not cold.
— There. — She smiled gently. — This way it won't burn or give you chills.
I stood still, quiet, a little awkward, not knowing what to do with my hands. Strange… after everything I'd done, after faking my own broken mind, after carrying a secret bigger than the world itself, here I was — being cared for.
Hana didn't treat me like a soldier. Or a patient. She treated me like… a kid again. And somehow, it felt right.
She rolled up her sleeves, tied her hair into a quick bun — flip — and placed a soft towel beside the bath. Then she looked at me with that practical tone of hers: firm, but carrying warmth in the edges.
— Close your eyes, Sasuke-kun, okay? Water's coming. —
Water poured down — shhhhhh — hitting my back, washing away the last of the night. The sound was calm, like wind across a field. I felt tension melt away a little. Every drop that fell seemed to take a bit of weight off my skin.
Hana spoke softly, but her words carried more care than volume.
— It's not good to hold everything in, you know? — she said, rubbing shampoo between her hands before running it through my hair. — Sometimes the body gets heavier than it should.
I just hummed.
Her touch wasn't invasive. It was precise. The kind that knew what it was doing — practiced, gentle, steady. The tips of her fingers moved in rhythm with the heartbeat — slow, even, almost like a prayer.
She rinsed my hair — shaaa… splish… — and handed me a sponge.
— Here, you do the arms. I'll take care of your back.
The soap slid like clouds, and the warm water sang softly against the tiles. Simple. Human. For a moment, it felt like the massacre, the blood, the iron smell, the sharp sound of blades — all belonged to another world.
— Are you cold? — she asked, seeing my shoulders tense.
— No. —
A lie. I was. But not body-cold — memory-cold.
Hana noticed. She didn't insist. Just turned off the water — clac — grabbed the towel, and started drying me gently. First my hair, then my face, my arms, my shoulders.
Each movement was quiet kindness — like she was trying to wipe away scars that didn't exist.
— All done. — She smiled, wrapping the towel around my neck. — See? Survived the bath.
I almost laughed. Almost.
— Thanks… Hana-nee-san. —
She blinked, surprised. The "nee-san" slipped out, but it stayed.
— Haven't heard that in a while — she said softly. — It suits you, you know?
I just nodded. She seemed lighter too.
When we left, the smell of soap followed us — puf-puf — and the house felt different. Less cold.
In the living room, Kurenai, Anko, and Yugao waited. The sunset painted gold along their hair and eyes. Kurenai sat near the window, calm. Anko was whispering some mischief. Yugao, as usual, silent — half-shadow, half-presence.
Kurenai was first to speak, her tone soft:
— You look much better now, Sasuke-kun. —
— Thanks — I said, still awkward.
Anko put her hands on her hips and gave a short whistle — fiup!
— Not bad, kid. Soon you'll be breaking hearts around here. —
Kurenai rolled her eyes. — Anko…
— What? It's a compliment! —
Yugao sighed quietly.
They began to take their leave soon after. Anko stretched — crack — muttering about packing. Kurenai fixed her hairband, mentioning their report to the Hokage. Yugao simply said, calm as always:
— We'll be back early tomorrow.
That's when I spoke up:
— I wouldn't mind if you all lived here. —
Three heads turned at once.
— Huh? — Anko blinked.
— I mean… the house is big. Really big. It belonged to the clan head. It's not like there's a shortage of space. —
Hana looked at me, surprised. Kurenai crossed her arms, thinking.
— You sure? — asked Anko, raising an eyebrow.
I nodded.
Kurenai walked over slowly, crouching a little to meet my eyes. Her perfume smelled faintly of leaves. She cupped my face with one hand, giving my cheek a gentle squeeze — squish.
— You're a very kind boy, you know that? — she murmured softly. — Hard to imagine anyone hurting someone so sweet…
Her look stung a bit — but it was warm. I didn't know what to say.
Anko cleared her throat, embarrassed. — Alright, alright, cut it out, Sensei Drama Queen. —
Kurenai laughed softly and let go. — Take care of him, Hana. —
— Always — Hana replied without hesitation.
Yugao gave a nod and left first — shrrp. Then Anko, clapping twice — clap-clap — muttering something about dango. Kurenai followed last, smiling once more before disappearing down the hall.
When the door shut, silence returned — clean, comfortable silence.
— I'll grab my things later — Hana said, fixing her hair. — The others will report to the Hokage. I don't want to leave you alone tonight. —
— Alright — I muttered.
She looked around the room, sighed lightly, and added with a smile:
— Now that it's clean, maybe I can cook again without the kitchen complaining. —
I gave a small "hn." She chuckled.
Night crept over the house slowly, the air growing warmer. Outside, the street lanterns blinked on one by one — tic-tic-tic.
(PoV Hiruzen Sarutobi)
The pipe crackled — tssc… tssc… — and smoke curled lazily in the air. The Third Hokage flipped through documents, eyes heavy, every stamp another weight, every name another calculation. The room smelled of tobacco and ink, wrapped in low light.
Tok-tok. Two soft knocks.
— Come in! — Hiruzen said, exhaling smoke.
The door slid — shrrp — and three kunoichi entered: Kurenai, Anko, and Yugao. Tired, but composed.
Kurenai spoke first, voice steady, almost maternal:
— Reporting on Uchiha Sasuke, Hokage-sama. He appears… stable. Quiet, but cooperative.
Yugao added, concise: — No signs of hostility. Discipline intact.
Anko chimed in, half-teasing, half-serious:
— Too polite, if you ask me. I'd bet he's plotting something. —
Hiruzen chuckled — heh… — shaking his head.
— Very well. You're dismissed. Submit your written reports to the tower tomorrow morning.
They bowed and left.
Clac. The door shut.
Silence again, broken only by the sound of the pipe.
— Looks like my honey-trap plan is working… — Hiruzen muttered under his breath.
He leaned back, elbows on the desk, eyes narrowing into thought. Behind the calm, the old cunning flickered.
Too few men, too many women. Three, four for each. And yet… so few pairs. Fewer children. The balance of the village always tipped the same way.
He took another drag — fuuu… — smoke rising to the ceiling.
— Maybe… that's exactly what we've been missing. —
The thought formed slowly, dangerously. A plan born from embers.
If he could keep Sasuke close — if the boy grew attached, formed bonds, trust — he could rebuild the Uchiha Clan without rebellion, without dangerous ideals. A new clan. Loyal.
Loyal to him.
— An Uchiha who loves the village more than his blood — Hiruzen whispered, eyes lost in the smoke. — The perfect future for Konoha.
The clock ticked — tic-tac, tic-tac — and the old man leaned back, letting out a long, tired sigh.
— What a sweet web you weave, old monkey… — he murmured to himself with a weary smile. — And in the end, everyone will think it's love.
The smoke dissolved into the dark. And the Leaf slept, unaware that the next game had already begun.