[~ 1300 Words]
~ A few days before the Uchiha Massacre.
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Kurenai sat with her knees drawn to her chest, cheeks still pink from the kiss, hands absently brushing over her flushed skin. The room felt quieter now—like the very air was holding its breath. Outside, the wind rustled faintly against the paper windows.
Haruki pushed himself up from the floor slowly, watching her.
Then he moved—quiet, steady—and settled beside her, shoulder touching hers, warmth meeting warmth.
She didn't look at him, but she didn't move away either.
After a long moment, Haruki spoke—voice soft, low.
"I know you've been strong for a long time, Kurenai. Strong for yourself. For your squad. For this village. But…" He tilted his head toward her, eyes steady. "Let me be strong for you too."
Her breath caught.
"I'll take care of you," he whispered. "We'll live a long, peaceful life once all this madness ends. You, me… and a couple of cute kids running around."
Kurenai turned sharply, wide-eyed.
"You—!" she said, voice caught between a laugh and a gasp. Her hand shot out and she slapped his upper arm—more flustered than angry. "Why would you say that?"
Haruki laughed softly, rubbing the spot she'd slapped. "Because it's true. I can already see them. One with your hair and attitude, the other with my sarcasm and your eyes. We'd be doomed."
Kurenai's eyes shimmered. She blinked fast, but a tear slid down her cheek anyway. She bit her lip and looked away, but Haruki gently reached up and cupped her face, thumb brushing the tear aside.
Without a word, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her temple.
Then another on her cheek.
Another on her jaw.
A light one on her nose.
And then one—gentle, reverent—right over the trail her tear had left behind.
Kurenai shivered under the touch, lips quivering. "You're not supposed to be this good at this…"
Haruki only smiled, his hands resting on her arms now. "Too late."
She turned into him, burying her face against his neck as a few more silent tears escaped. Her arms wrapped around his back, gripping his shirt tightly as she let out a soft, choked sniffle.
"I don't cry," she muttered against his shoulder.
"I know," Haruki said gently, rubbing small circles along her back. "That's why I'm here. To be the one person you can cry with."
Kurenai held onto him tighter.
And he just sat there with her, patting her back, pressing quiet kisses into her hairline and forehead.
No promises of battle. No mission clock ticking.
Just him, her, and the warmth of something real.
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Location: Uchiha Residence – Late Evening
The paper door slid open, and warm light spilled from the hallway into the garden path as Haruki stepped in, hand loosely holding Kurenai's. Her fingers tensed at first—being inside the Uchiha compound carried a weight—but his thumb brushing over her knuckles grounded her.
Inside, Izumi looked up from the scroll she was reading, then blinked twice.
"…Wait."
Haruki smirked. "Hey, kid."
Kurenai offered a polite nod. "Evening, Izumi."
Izumi's eyes darted from her brother to the kunoichi beside him—then widened.
"You're holding hands."
Haruki raised their joined hands slightly. "Very observant."
"You're… you're dating her? Kurenai-sensei?!" Izumi shot to her feet, nearly knocking over the ink bottle beside her. "Are you serious?!"
"It´s true," Kurenai replied, a little flustered but smiling now.
Izumi squealed—an actual squeal—and clapped her hands together, bouncing in place. "I knew something was up when you visited her house three times this week! You two are so—! This is so cool—!"
Footsteps interrupted her glee. Father Haruto emerged from the hallway, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
He glanced at their joined hands. Then at Haruki. Then at Kurenai.
"I see," he said simply.
Izumi opened her mouth again, but Haruto cut her off with a quiet, firm tone. "Izumi. Go to your room."
She blinked. "W-What? But—!"
"Now."
Reluctantly, Izumi gave Haruki a quick thumbs-up behind her back and scampered off.
Haruki sighed and turned to his father. Father Haruto didn't answer. He turned without a word and gestured toward the side corridor. "Both of you. Come."
Kurenai glanced at Haruki, but followed.
They stepped into a small, quiet side chamber—simple tatami floor, low lamplight, and a sliding door pulled shut behind them. Haruto stood in front of them with arms crossed again, shadows drawing harsh lines over his stern features.
"Does she know?" Haruto asked bluntly, eyes never leaving his son. "About the situation."
Haruki exhaled. "Half of it. She knows about the clan being watched. The tension. Shisui's death. She's not blind."
Haruto's jaw tensed. "But not the full picture."
Haruki turned to Kurenai, voice soft. "You deserve to know."
Kurenai straightened slightly. "Tell me."
So Haruki did.
The internal clan summons. The recall of Uchiha shinobi. The hidden scrolls. The warnings from ANBU eyes. The instructions his father had given him—to run if things turned dark. To protect Izumi at all costs.
Kurenai's face paled as the details sank in. She processed in silence, hands folded in her lap, but her mind was clearly racing.
"Why hasn't the Hokage stepped in?" she finally asked.
Haruto shook his head. "Because if he does, it becomes official. The minute he acknowledges something's wrong, it's war. Right now, it's all whispers. Pressure. Waiting for a spark."
Haruki added, "We're being cornered, Kurenai. Slowly. Quietly."
Kurenai closed her eyes, absorbing the weight of it all. And when she opened them, her voice was firm. "Then why bring me into this?"
"Because I didn't want to lie to you," Haruki said gently. "And because I needed you to know the risk of being close to me."
Haruto's voice cut in sharp now. "Which brings me to my point."
He looked straight at Kurenai. "You are a well-respected jonin. Connected to multiple clans. Known in public circles. If they think you're close to Haruki—even romantically—they will see you as a threat or a leverage."
Kurenai's lips parted, but no words came. Haruto continued.
"If you care about him—if—you must not tell anyone. No fellow jonin. No council. Not even teammates. Until this passes—if it passes—your relationship with my son stays quiet."
She frowned, clearly reluctant. "You're asking me to lie to everyone."
Haruto didn't blink. "I'm asking you to survive."
Haruki touched her arm, his voice gentler. "Just for now. It's not hiding out of shame. It's just… buying time."
Kurenai looked between the two of them—the protective father, the shinobi son caught between clan and village—and after a long silence, she nodded once.
"Alright. But only because I'd rather stay alive long enough to fight next to you if things go bad."
Haruto exhaled slowly, just a fraction of tension leaving his shoulders. He nodded.
"We'll tell Izumi to keep quiet," Haruki added.
"Good," Haruto said. Then he glanced toward the door. "You should go now. Before too many eyes notice her presence here."
Kurenai stood. "Understood."
As they stepped out into the hall again, Haruki leaned close, brushing his knuckles lightly down her arm. "Sorry for throwing you into the fire."
She gave a soft smile. "If I wanted safety, I wouldn't be in love with an Uchiha."
He blinked at her choice of words, and a slow warmth bloomed in his chest.
"Don't say things like that. I might kiss you again and blow our cover."
"You're worth the risk," she whispered.
And though they parted with practiced neutrality, their shadows lingered side by side on the wall—quietly entwined.
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