The succulent is purple. It’s cute, smooth, and its entire pot fits in the palm of her hand.

  Looking at it doesn’t remind her painfully of Popo-chan, surprisingly. Her tiny cacti had always been a reminder of a bittersweet memory, named only because it’s something someone else would have done. Someone important, someone dead, just like –

  She forces that train of thought away, and enters her apartment.

  Sakura is standing before the seated forms of Kakashi, Sasuke, and Itachi. Naruto and Shisui are in the kitchen, and that requires her rather immediate attention. After setting her succulent on her suspended shelves, shooting Itachi a smile as she does, Miyu hurries for the kitchen.

  “I already put in salt!” Naruto bats Shisui’s hand away from the pot, “You literally saw me do it!”

  “You were stingy with it!” Shisui retorts, shoving Naruto away and adding another liberal sprinkle, “No one likes bland curry. Hiya Miyu-chan.”

  “Miyu!” Naruto wails, spinning on his heel and throwing his arms around her in a hug, “Please kick Shisui out of the kitchen! He’s ruining everything-”

  “I am not, you liar! We’re only having dinner because I thought to treat everyone to pop’s famous spicy curry-”

  “But I’m tryna tell him that it can’t be too spicy or Kaka-sensei will cry again,” the blond pouts.

  “Stop slandering me, Naruto,” Kakashi deadpans from the couch, “I didn’t cry for the curry. Icha-Icha just had a very touching, painful scene-”

  Miyu keeps an ear on the banter as she assesses the kitchen. It’s not as much of a mess as she thought it would be with Shisui and Naruto at the helm. The curry, when she tries it, is even decent. They’ve got the rice cooker going, and they’ve even got some sides ready.

  It’s cute, actually.

  “This looks great,” she interrupts their banter seamlessly, “you two have done a really good job.”

  “Yes!” Naruto fist pumps, “Take that, jerk, Miyu loves me more!”

  The ‘jerk’ is directed at Sasuke, who is somehow managing to glare at his teammate with his eyes closed. Sakura’s hands hover over them, glowing green.

  “Don’t lie to yourself. I’m obviously the favourite.”

  “Hah,” Sakura’s grinning despite being in the middle of what must be extremely delicate work. “You guys don’t share half the connection we do.”

  Miyu shrugs sheepishly, “I do love Sakura.”

  Naruto howls dramatically. Sasuke pouts.

  “But you’re all special, I love you equally, and you’re welcome here anytime.”

  “Miyu-chan!”

  Naruto sweeps her into a huge hug, obscuring her view of the rest of the apartment.

  “But she loves me most!” Shisui sing-songs from where he had been stirring the pot. “And maybe Izumi. She should be coming past after her shift.”

  “Kakashi-sensei has been suspiciously quiet,” Sakura’s low comment reaches her even in Naruto’s hold. “What – Oh, please. You’re not still writing that book, are you?”

  Kakashi gasps dramatically, and as Naruto sets her back onto her feet, Miyu watches him clutch his orange-bound notebook to his chest.

  “You wound me, o student mine! I’ve almost completed the first novel, just three chapters left!”

  “Kakashi,” and isn’t hearing Itachi’s deadpan voice for the first time this evening just the best.

  Miyu finds herself smiling even as she watches him glare at the grey-haired man.

  “Why, I should be finished with it by next week. I’ll be a published author soon, Sakura-chan. Don’t worry, I won’t forget my faithless students. I’ll be sure to leave you a signed copy.”

  Chaos erupts, and Miyu turns back to the stove, where Shisui and Naruto are fighting over what to garnish the curry with.

  As long as no one loses any of her shogi tiles, or ruins her new succulent, she’s happy.

  .

  Miyu steps out of the bank, struggling to keep her pensive frown from her face.

  While there’d been mostly good news shared today – the success of a business she chose to invest in a month or so back that specialises in bamboo products being one of them, the weight of the situation with her land on the border of Fire and Rice seemed to hang over the entire briefing.

  Her meeting with the Hokage is only a few days away now, and her concerns about their upcoming meeting are only growing. The situation with the clans hasn’t gone anywhere yet – she hasn’t exactly made a decision on how she wants to handle it.

  Not to mention her inquiries into the missing children of the flower districts have been hitting dead ends. The hints of evidence are all there, but nothing tangible as of yet. And it all seems to point to somewhere too deep in Konoha’s cracks for her to follow. She doesn’t have the clearance. For all anyone’s concerned, she’s a bored woman traversing the flower districts for insidious rumours.

  Miyu doesn’t notice the guards until they’re almost right in front of her – and only because they seem to be headed right for her.

  “You,” one calls, and Miyu doesn’t recognise his face or his voice, “come with us.”

  She opens her mouth to ask what and why, but two of the four guards seize her arms and jerk her off the street into a side alley.

  “What is the meaning of this?” she asks evenly, trying not to panic as she attempts to pull free of the men on either side of her. Their grips are firm and unyielding.

  The one who had spoken – presumably, the one in charge – steps closer, grasping her chin with rough fingers to tilt her face up to him. He peers at her features, and after a second he lets her go and steps back.

  “As I thought. You’re that shogi woman.”

  Her heart plummets into her stomach. Oh no. Oh no.

  Taking deep, steady breaths, she eyes the uniforms of the men surrounding her. They wear the dark red and black of the imperial guard, with swords strapped to their waists and the crescent of the Daimyo embroidered onto their collars, a symbol of their positions.

  Dread mounting, Miyu shakes her head.

  “Who-”

  “What was her name again?” he looks to the guard who seems to be keeping an eye on the street so that no one intervenes. Miyu hopes that they’re spotted by ninja, and soon, because if this is going where she thinks it is –

  “Sugawara Miyu,” the one facing the street says impassively, and she can only stare, mute, at the span of his back.

  “Ah, that’s right.”

  The head guard looks to the men on either side of her, and they release her arms. She resists the urge to feel at where they’d gripped her, twin bands around her biceps aching.

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  “What, got nothing clever to say, pretty miss?” he seems amused, “You had no problem making a fool of our honourable Daimyo, did you?”

  Miyu swallows down her anxiety, and remains silent.

  “What are we going to do?” asks the guard to her left. He sounds young, but he’s the tallest of the group, and he takes a step away from her to get a better look at her face.

  “I’m a citizen of Konoha,” Miyu’s voice chooses that moment to start working again, and she desperately tries to keep her composure. Four men, an abandoned alleyway, and no ninja in sight. Shit.

  “Why the fuck do you think I care?” the head guard takes a step towards her, and Miyu just barely refrains from flinching back.

  “Konoha govern the law within their territory,” she explains, though her throat feels like it’s tightening with every passing second, “you cannot-”

  He backhands her with enough force that she careens into the guard beside her, and then to the ground. Cheek throbbing, hand cradling her face and heart rate quickening, because this is bad – Miyu tries frantically to come up with a plan.

  “Don’t try to dictate what I can and can’t do,” he says, disturbingly even for someone who’s just struck a civilian. His hand grabs at her hair and she winces as he jerks her face towards him, hairpin slipping loose. It clatters to the ground beneath them, and Miyu realises she’s shaking.

  Come on, think, Miyu, think –

  She could scream, though she doubts they’d let her for long. Her hair tumbles loose down her back and he tugs her to her feet.

  “Jizen,” he says the name, and the guard to her right reels his fist back and –

  Miyu chokes, curling forward despite the hand fisted in her hair, struggling to inhale even as he removes his fist from her stomach and hits her again.

  Gasping, she falls to her knees, eyes prickling with unshed tears at the suddenness of the pain. The head guard drags her by her hair further into the alleyway, closer to a wall, while the others block her from the view of the street.

  “Please-” she chokes out, “I-”

  She sees stars as he wrenches her to her feet, spins her around, and slams her to the wall. She just barely manages to turn her face in time, hissing through her teeth as the bricks scrape at her skin. One of his hands is pressing harshly against her head, keeping her immobile.

  His other, she realises, holds her hands tightly behind her back. It’s with mounting panic that she hears the others talking in low voices. Though her head is ringing, she strains to hear them.

  “…better to kill her here now and-”

  “He will want proof it’s her! Should we not-”

  “It’ll only waste time to take her to him. We know what he wants, why not just take her head with us-”

  And then, a new voice. Miyu’s knees go weak with relief at the sound of it.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  It’s a man’s voice, seeped in authority, stern and somehow familiar.

  “Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Move on.” One of the guards says, and the threat is clear in his tone.

  “I will ask you one more time,” the voice gets a little closer. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Fuck off, old man, we’re working on the Daimyo’s orders. Unless you want to end up in prison, back off.”

  “This is Konoha,” comes the unwavering reply, “you have no jurisdiction here.”

  “Oh yeah?” taunts the younger guard, even as the one holding her shoves her face harder against the wall. “What a fool. Talking about Konoha’s jurisdiction as though you know anything about it.”

  Miyu sucks in a sharp breath as the bricks tear at her skin. She barely feels it with adrenaline setting her veins alight.

  “You do not have authority here,” the voice is louder now, closer, “release the woman.”

  “And who the fuck are you to demand that?” laughs the young guard.

  There’s a brief moment of silence, and then –

  “Uchiha Fugaku, Chief of the Konoha Military Police and head of the Uchiha clan.”

  Miyu is let go all at once. Her knees give out in sheer relief, hitting the ground with a thud even as her hands come up to steady herself against the rough brick wall.

  She takes just a moment to breathe, still winded.

  “We’ll take her to the Daimyo,” the head guard says, and then there’s loud footsteps and hands are on her arms again, pulling her to her feet.

  Miyu can feel something hot and wet trailing down the side of her face, dripping onto her yukata, but she’s too busy blinking back reflexive tears of shock to worry about it. The guards march her to the entrance of the alleyway, where her gaze finally meets the head of the Uchiha clan.

  Itachi’s father doesn’t make any indication that he knows her – not even the barest twitch of his expression gives him away. But as the guards practically drag her through the streets, he keeps pace, a steady presence that makes her feel just a little more secure.

  She’s not going to be murdered in an alleyway, at least.

  She doesn’t dare open her mouth to ask where they are taking her, and as the minutes pass it becomes evident anyway. The administration buildings come into sight, the Hokage Tower bold and red among them.

  Her heartbeat is pounding terribly in her ears as they practically haul her up the flights of stairs, stopping before a wooden door. A guard steps forward, knocks in a particular pattern, and then barges in.

  Miyu is shoved through the doorway, hard enough that she falls onto her hands, which at least don’t tremble. A pair of slippered feet turn to face her, and now her heart feels like it’s in her throat.

  Her eyes travel up, past richly embroidered hakama and a silken kimono, to the face of the Daimyo.

  Their gazes meet, and it takes only seconds for his expression to shift into anger.

  “You,” his voice is low, tone poisonous as his face begins to flush with barely restrained emotion.

  She refuses to look away. There’s not much hope for her here, kneeling before the man who snatched away her life in the capital so easily. Not much for her to feel, except fury.

  Her hands shake now, but not with fear. She clenches them into fists, struggling to school her face into indifference, because while Miyu’s never been a violent person, she really, really wants to punch this man in the face.

  “Uchiha-sama? What’s this?”

  The new voice is warm and curious, and when Miyu tears her gaze from the Daimyo’s, she sees a man standing before a desk, backlit by a row of open windows. His blond hair seems to glow in the light cast into the room, and for a moment she can’t make out his features.

  She blinks once – twice – and his face comes into focus. His features are finely structured – high cheekbones, defined jaw, straight nose and bright blue eyes. It’s so familiar – gods. Miyu almost laughs at her idiocy. Of course he looks familiar, he’s the Hokage, and his face is quite literally carved into a cliff that she sees daily.

  He’s dressed in what appears to be standard jounin uniform, the long white robe denoting his office about his shoulders. He even wears the Konoha insignia, tied across his forehead. He looks so – so normal. She didn’t know what she expected.

  Right now he’s got one arm raised, seemingly holding back a masked figure in black, wearing the grey body armour that she’s seen Itachi and Kakashi in on several occasions.

  “You just refuse to be crushed,” the Daimyo’s face curls into an ugly sneer, as though the words taste terrible, “like a tenacious cockroach.”

  Oh, she wants to hurt him so badly.

  Uchiha Fugaku speaks now, in response to his Hokage, “I came across these… men in the process of assaulting a citizen of Konoha. I intervened.”

  “I see,” the Hokage says, stepping forward and kneeling down to Miyu’s level. She watches his eyes scan her face, lingering on the side of her face that is bleeding, and then to the other side, that she knows sports a rapidly bruising cheek.

  He reaches out, offering her his hand. She places her own in it, and lets him help her to her feet. Her knees don’t tremble, which she’s grateful for in this moment.

  Then he takes half a step back, looks to the Daimyo, and says, “What’s going on here? Why have your guards attacked one of Konoha’s citizens?”

  The man opposite them is still glaring at her.

  “She was a citizen of the Fire capital first,” he spits, “and she’s a wanted criminal.”

  “Criminal?” Miyu can’t help the cold rage that seeps into her tone. “You murdered my entire family and tried to murder me over a shogi game which you won, Daimyo-sama. It’s not difficult to figure out who between us is the criminal here.”

  There. She’s given the Hokage and Uchiha-sama all the information she can before the leader of their country can spew any falsities. And, yes, it feels good to make him look a fool again.

  The man shifts his muddy brown gaze from her to the Hokage.

  “Give her to me,” he demands, “I want her dealt with right now.”

  It’s Uchiha Fugaku that speaks up, again.

  “You have no jurisdiction in Konoha, Daimyo-sama.”

  The Daimyo scowls at him, “Then I will drag her outside the gates and kill her there if it so troubles you.”

  “I cannot allow that,” says the Hokage with a polite smile, as though they’re discussing the weather and not her method of execution.

  “You would deny your Daimyo?”

  The room stills, and for a few seconds it’s so quiet that Miyu thinks her heartbeat can be heard by every person in here. The Hokage, his two masked guards, Uchiha Fugaku, and the Daimyo and his men.

  She wonders, then, if he really is that stupid. Because the Hokage is undoubtedly the most dangerous man in the land of Fire, and the Daimyo is recklessly trying to assert dominance.

  “Unfortunately,” the Hokage is still smiling, but it is hard and unyielding, and his tone is no longer warm, “I must.”

  “You threaten to insult the clans of Konoha,” Uchiha Fugaku says with calm confidence that Miyu herself doesn’t feel. “This woman has the protection of a noble clan.”

  Wait. Wait, what?

  Miyu keeps her face devoid of any emotion, trying to puzzle through his plan. He’s bluffing, of course he is – there’s no protection, not for someone like her, and certainly not without any contracts agreed upon. Is she supposed to speak?

  “All this to stop a nameless whore from getting her throat slit?” the Daimyo hisses, “What clan? Why is she protected? Has she spread her legs for you, Hokage?”

  Hah. He might insult his way to a well-deserved death at the rate he’s going at. To talk to the Hokage like that, with only six guards as protection? Idiot.

  “She is engaged,” Fugaku says, voice tight. She can’t see his face, but she wonders if he’s showing any emotion right now.

  “To who?”

  And, well. Miyu thinks this plan isn’t a very good one. She appreciates that they’re trying, at least, but how will they possibly –

  A window opens with a loud click, drawing the room’s attention.

  Miyu doesn’t know whether she feels like laughing or crying.

  “Yo,” Kakashi is crouching in the sill, eye crinkled, “I hear you have business with my fiancé, Daimyo-sama.”