Miyu can feel eyes on her. It’s an uncomfortable, intangible pressure that she can’t shake as Uchiha Izumi meets her gaze with pretty, almond-shaped eyes.

  “It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Miyu says, sure that whatever this woman has heard can’t be savoury. She’s an Uchiha, surely they’ve issued a clan-wide notice about her by now.

  “Hm,” Izumi cocks her head briefly, “you… don’t know who I am. Hah. Itachi must have – well-” she huffs out a laugh, shaking her head, “I shouldn’t have expected any less, I suppose.”

  Miyu refrains the urge to glance around, wondering why this woman would bring him up now, knowing that there’s an undoubtedly delicate, tension-fraught situation at hand.

  Before she can open her mouth to guide the conversation in a different direction, Izumi shifts her weight marginally, lips pressing into a determined line for just a moment before softening.

  And then she says –

  “I should introduce myself properly. I’m Uchiha Izumi, jounin of Konohagakure, and future matriarch of my clan.”

  Miyu’s polite, distant expression falls into place almost instantly.

  Of course. Her luck hasn’t been terrible enough, has it?

  But gods, it’s unlike Miyu to unknowingly throw herself out of the frying-pan and into the fire. For a moment she almost wishes for Uchiha Mikoto to be facing her instead. At least she knows firmly where she stands with the woman.

  Instead, she’s in a crowded room full of trained ninja, standing before Itachi’s fiancé.

  “Ah,” Miyu smiles, and sinks into an appropriately deep bow, “forgive me for my forwardness, Uchiha-sama. It’s an honour to meet you.”

  She focuses on keeping her visible hand steady where it clutches her flute of champagne.

  “You’re not what I expected,” Izumi says, but her face is devoid of any tells. Miyu doesn’t know what she’s thinking, and she hates it.

  “The way people are gossiping, you’d think you sacrificed a newborn child and signed away this year’s harvest to secure a wealthy clan heir or something.”

  Miyu has the inappropriate urge to laugh.

  “Only this year’s harvest?” Miyu raises a brow, hating that she’s about to stick her hand into still waters, hoping nothing terrible bites her. “A wealthy clan heir is worth at least five.”

  Izumi blinks at her for one, still moment. And then her lips twitch upwards in what’s unmistakably a smile, her eyes crinkling with the movement in a way that’s so pretty Miyu has to take a sip from her champagne to stop herself from staring too intently.

  “So,” says the Uchiha, and though her smile has faded, her eyes still shine with mirth and interest, “you play shogi?”

  Miyu had plunged her hand into too-still water, waiting with bated breath for the sting of a bite. But no bite had come. Rather, a hand reached out and grasped hers, still cold and unfamiliar, and with the power to drag Miyu down into unknown depths, but –

  She lets her eyes roam the woman before her. Izumi is beautiful in the classic way that most Uchiha are, but she’s in a plain purple kimono, and when she shifts her weight slightly Miyu notices that it’s been altered. Probably to make it easier to fight if need be, she realises.

  Uchiha Izumi is beautiful, and practical.

  “You can say that,” Miyu responds, fighting the urge to fidget, “haven’t been doing much of it lately, unfortunately.”

  Izumi nods, and Miyu wonders how much she knows. Definitely more than Miyu knows about her, that’s for sure.

  “You did a brilliant job alerting the authorities, Miyu-san,” the jounin says, “I can’t imagine what you must have been feeling once you realised there were intruders.”

  Miyu lets herself wince.

  “Panicked, to be truthful,” she confesses, “I’m not sure I’ve ever been more afraid in my life.”

  A lie, one that comes easily. She’s been plenty afraid in her life, this time only standing out as the most recent.

  “I commend you,” Izumi’s eyes are serious now, “it’s no simple thing to successfully ensure no children were harmed or taken.”

  Miyu knows she’s blushing now, and hopes it won’t be taken as a weakness.

  “Anyone would have done the same,” she smiles and it’s a little more genuine this time.

  “Perhaps they would have,” Izumi admits, “but you must consider that most couldn’t. Most would give away their panic, or plan something potentially dangerous, but you-”

  The woman cuts herself off, taking a deep, slow breath before continuing.

  “You created a plan with the highest chance of success. You utilised a child who would be in the least danger, but with the best likelihood of alerting the KMP as soon as possible. You stalled four foreign ninja, and stepped up when confronted to protect your students against trained infiltrators and assassins.”

  Her eyes are burning as she stares at Miyu, her voice strong and sure.

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  “You have done an amazing thing, and you should not let anyone make it less than it is.”

  She knows she’s flushing now, pink blossoming on her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose.

  “I chose the strategy with the best odds,” she tries to demure, “thank you for your kind assessment of the situation, Uchiha-sama-”

  “Don’t do that,” Izumi asserts firmly, brow furrowing only slightly. “I’m not some egotistical clan head that you have to humble yourself to. Be who you are, and do what you do, with pride.”

  Miyu takes a moment to blink. Another, to breathe.

  “Thank you, Uchiha-sama,” she finally gets out, “I know without a doubt that your clan will prosper under your leadership.”

  Izumi’s lips twitch up into a smile again, and Miyu smiles back, as genuinely as she dares in a public place like this.

  The brunette’s eyes catch on someone behind her, and for a gut-wrenching moment, Miyu thinks Mikoto might be back –

  “Kakashi,” Izumi greets dryly, but her expression is still softer than it had been five minutes prior, “decided the Hatake are finally re-joining the noble clans of Konoha, have you?”

  Miyu looks left, and blinks at the sight of the jounin in dark grey haori and hakama, and a black kimono. His mask melds with the formal dress, and his Konoha headband still slants over one eye. She’s never seen him outside of his typical jounin uniform before.

  “Kakashi?” she can’t help relaxing slightly at the sight of him. Here, in a room full of strangers, his familiar presence soothes her fraying nerves.

  “Ah,” his eye crinkles as he smiles, “yo, Izumi, Miyu.”

  “Don’t tell me the gossip’s spread this fast?” Izumi raises a brow, unamused, “You’ve never come to a clan gathering, and you’ve technically been clan head for twenty-something years.”

  Miyu doesn’t let her surprise show on her face. Never?

  She casts a quick glance around the room, noting that eyes have shifted from her to Kakashi.

  “Gossip? Don’t be ridiculous, this is a ninja village,” Kakashi’s tone is just as dry, “we are professionals.”

  Izumi smirks at that, “I bet Anko’s publishing pamphlets by now. I can just imagine – clan heir’s betrothed faces off against his lover in a dramatic showdown at tonight’s clan gathering-”

  Miyu chokes out a laugh at that, hand rising quickly to cover her mouth – but the damage has been done. Kakashi’s lone grey eye is watching her, wide. Izumi’s gaze is alive with mischief, but she makes no further comment as she watches Miyu regain her composure.

  “Do you think Chikako would tell me the best rumours if I asked?” she says once she’s got her smile under control. Her cheeks are still too flushed, and she knows she won’t truly recover from her brief outburst in their eyes, but she can’t bring herself to care.

  “Definitely,” Izumi nods, “that bird has a gossip network like you wouldn’t believe. Once, she brought back rumours from Suna that kept us up theorising for weeks.”

  “I don’t see her so often nowadays,” Miyu sighs, and Izumi seems to immediately understand why.

  “You do know that she’s contracted to Shisui, too? He’d summon her if you asked, if only to give Itachi shit.”

  Miyu tilts her head consideringly, and then musters her resolve before saying, “Thank you for letting me know. I’ll gladly share whatever she tells me… perhaps over tea?”

  The two ninja stare at her, and she wonders if she’s gotten better at reading people trained not to express their genuine emotions, or whether she’s surprised them enough to garner this non-reaction.

  “I…”

  For a moment she worries Izumi will shoot her down, and she curses the opening she just gave. The invitation was a gamble, but gods, if it pays off –

  “I’d prefer something a little stronger. I doubt anyone’s shown you a decent bar yet. Let Chikako know when you’re free and I’ll organise it.”

  With that, Izumi nods to Kakashi, offers Miyu a half-bow and the brief tilt of her smile, and leaves. The two of them watch her go, and Miyu is averts her gaze to the other occupants in the room. She feels Kakashi’s stare on the side of her face, and after a few moments she relents and meets his gaze.

  “Kakashi? Or should I call you Hatake-sama now?” she lets her tone keep its warmth here, between the two of them.

  “You’re braver than I thought you’d be,” he says suddenly, and Miyu is taken aback a little at his seriousness.

  “Brave? Strategy has nothing to do with-”

  “Miyu.”

  She halts herself, repressing the urge to fidget and hoping she’s not blushing again.

  “I’m sorry I ever underestimated you.”

  She pauses at that, and doesn’t quite know how to respond.

  “Half the things I do succeed because people underestimate me,” she finally settles on after a brief moment. “Where I come from, you press every advantage you have.”

  Kakashi’s eye isn’t crinkled in a smile, but she thinks she reads another apology in his next blink. Gods, she’s going mad. She’s got to be imaging her improvements in reading ninja.

  “And here they come,” he says suddenly, countenance shifting so subtly she might have missed it had all her attention not been on him. His back straightens marginally, and he shifts his weight just slightly. He goes from relaxed and friendly to stiff and formal in the span of a heartbeat.

  “Good evening, Sugawara-san,” comes a voice to her right, and she looks to see – the Hyuuga clan head?

  “Hyuuga-sama,” she murmurs, bowing deep, “good evening.”

  When she rises, he and his four clansmen are watching her.

  Tournament, she thinks. You’re at a tournament. These are opponents. Stay calm.

  “I would like to extend the sincere thanks of myself and my clan to the service you have done us.” He bows low, though very intentionally shallower than she had.

  “Hyuuga Junpei is an exemplary student, and honours your clan with his conduct in my class,” she says with a polite smile, “I must commend the Hyuuga on his outstanding character.”

  The Hyuuga clan head’s impassive face doesn’t shift, but he does take a moment to reply.

  “We owe you a great debt, Sugawara-san. The byakugan is coveted and must be protected. In the absence of a clan retainer, you successfully carried out that role.”

  Miyu nods, and says, “I am glad to have carried out my duties as a teacher. Is Junpei well? I haven’t been able to check up on all my students, and I know the incident was frightening.”

  Again, his face doesn’t so much as twitch, but he pauses for a moment before replying.

  “The boy is well enough. He has been attended to by his parents, and will be travelling with a guard from now on.”

  Miyu smiles again, “That’s good to hear. I look forward to teaching him again once the school reopens.”

  Another pause, and Miyu wonders if she’s reading this conversation correctly. Is she insulting them somehow?

  “Please give him my well-wishes, and tell him to practice his openings,” she says before it can get awkward.

  The Hyuuga nods, and they bow to one another before the small delegation moves on to another group.

  Miyu exhales slowly, and slants a look up at Kakashi.

  “Did I say something?” she murmurs.

  She can see the line of his mouth shift upwards under his mouth, “Rather, you didn’t say something. They were expecting you to state the terms.”

  Miyu barely represses a frown.

  “Terms?”

  Kakashi shrugs, “You did them a favour. The clan now wishes to return it. They seemed rather surprised that you didn’t stomp your intentions all over the interaction, you see.”

  “Intentions?” Miyu lets a brow raise sceptically, “I only want to know if my students are well. I understand their desire to express thanks, but they owe me nothing. Caring for those under my care is my most basic task as a teacher.”

  He looks at her again, and she holds her ground as he seems to see something more.

  “The clans don’t like having debts,” he explains, and she only just notices that his hands are stuck rather casually in the pockets of his hakama. She wonders if he’s got weapons hidden in there, and then realises that he’s ninja and there’s definitely something sharp and dangerous on his person at all times.

  She opens her mouth to respond, but he beats her to it.

  “Advantages, Miyu. I thought you knew when to press them. If you ask me? Now’s a pretty good time.”