The forest thinned as he moved, branches giving way to rooftops and stone. The river's sound faded behind him, replaced by the low murmur of the village settling into evening. The light had shifted while he trained. The sun no longer burned; it stretched long shadows between buildings and softened edges into gold.
The air felt heavy.
Clouds had gathered without him noticing.
By the time he stepped down from the last rooftop and returned to the street, the sky hung low and swollen. The market stalls were half-closed. A shopkeeper hurried to pull fabric inward before the wind could catch it. Somewhere nearby, a child laughed too loudly, the sound cutting briefly through the thickening quiet.
A drop struck the stone near his foot.
Then another.
The rain began without drama small, scattered, almost testing the ground before committing. Itachi did not change pace. Other children darted toward cover, sandals slapping against wet stone. Someone shrieked in mock outrage as water splashed their sleeve.
He kept walking.
They said it would be different here.
The rain strengthened, pressing the dust flat and dulling the sound of footsteps. It blurred lantern light into soft halos and turned the air cooler against his skin.
The rain smelled different here.
Not like iron.
He did not linger on the memory.
The Uchiha compound gate came into view through the curtain of water. The rain had soaked through his hair and traced cold lines down the back of his neck. The wooden entrance stood quiet against the gray.
He stopped just short of it.
Not because he didn't want to go inside.
Because he needed a moment.
He wiped the water from his face with the heel of his palm and straightened his shoulders. His breathing slowed deliberately. The rain muffled everything beyond the gate, turning the world outside into a distant blur.
He slid the door open.
Warm light greeted him.
Paper lanterns glowed amber against polished wood. The air carried the scent of simmering broth and steamed rice. Somewhere deeper in the house, a pot lid clinked softly.
Mikoto's voice drifted from the kitchen. "Itachi? Is that you?"
"Yes," he replied, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
He removed his sandals carefully, placing them side by side without looking at them. When he stepped forward into the main room, Fugaku was already seated, posture straight, hands resting on his knees.
"You're wet," Fugaku observed.
"It started suddenly."
Mikoto appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a cloth. "You should've run," she said gently, though she didn't sound upset.
"I didn't mind."
She smiled faintly at that and reached to brush a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "Go change. Dinner's almost ready."
He nodded and turned—
—and paused.
Sasuke lay on a small blanket near the low table, staring up at the ceiling beams as if they were the most fascinating things in the world. At the sound of footsteps, the baby turned his head with surprising determination.
His eyes landed on Itachi.
Sasuke's hand lifted, fingers opening and closing as if trying to grasp the air itself.
Itachi knelt without thinking.
The smile that touched his face then wasn't arranged. It wasn't deliberate. It simply appeared, small and unguarded.
"Did you miss me?" he asked quietly.
Sasuke responded with a soft, incoherent sound and kicked both legs at once.
Itachi adjusted the blanket around him, careful not to tuck it too tightly. Sasuke's hand caught his finger and held it with startling strength for someone so small.
He stayed like that a moment longer than necessary.
Dinner was simple and warm. The rain drummed gently against the roof, steady now, rhythmic. Mikoto asked about the Academy, and Itachi answered politely what they studied, how the instructor spoke, how the other students behaved. Fugaku listened more than he spoke, asking one or two short questions about discipline and form.
"You must represent the clan well," Fugaku said at one point, not harshly, just firmly.
"Yes."
Sasuke babbled through most of the meal, striking the table once with a wooden spoon and startling himself in the process. Mikoto laughed softly. Fugaku's expression didn't change much, but his gaze softened when Sasuke leaned sideways and nearly toppled over.
The house felt steady.
Protected.
After dinner, Itachi carried his bowl to the kitchen without being asked. The rain had grown heavier outside, striking the eaves with sharper insistence now.
He passed Sasuke's room on the way to his own.
He paused.
Inside, Mikoto hummed faintly while settling the baby. Sasuke's small sounds faded gradually into quiet.
Itachi stood there just long enough to hear the breathing even out.
Then he continued down the hallway.
His room was dim except for the faint light filtering through the paper screen. The rain blurred the outside world into gray motion. He lay down on his back and watched the ceiling beams disappear and reappear in shadow as lightning flickered somewhere far away.
The rain was loud enough to fill the space between thoughts.
The rain hid the village.
Beyond it, people were still dying.
The quiet inside the house felt temporary.
He remembered standing on stone once, wind pushing against his back. He remembered looking down, not afraid, just wondering how far it would take before the ground answered.
The memory slipped away as quickly as it came.
The rain softened gradually, settling into something gentler.
He turned onto his side, facing the wall.
Tomorrow he would try again.
For now, the house was quiet.
And the rain kept falling.