Miyu runs for the door, wrenches it open, and coughs violently at the sudden wave of smoke and heat. The hallway is impassable.

  “Mother!” She yells between hacking coughs, “Masa!”

  She can’t hear anything over the roaring flames or the billowing waves of heat. A beam collapses in the hallway, crashing to the floor in an explosion of fiery splinters.

  “Nanami!” She’s bellowing now, “Kikyo!”

  Fire licks at the threshold.

  “Anyone! Can anyone hear me?”

  Her only response comes in the creak of the walls and thick, roiling smoke.

  Miyu slams the door and races to the window. She could climb out and up the side of the Okiya to reach Kikyo’s room, and maybe even Masa’s.

  She wrenches the window open, eyes streaming with tears from the heavy, heated smoke, coughing so violently she almost doubles over.

  It opens inwards, and Miyu takes a second to try and understand what she’s seeing. Beyond the shutters, there is only – wood?

  Wooden boards?

  Someone has barred them in?

  Panic crawls up her throat – or maybe that’s bile – but she doesn’t have the time to spare as she hears the door splintering. She hammers against the boards with her fists frantically, unable to get past the increasing inability to breathe properly.

  The tatami and most of their walls are thin and highly flammable, and the office is the only fully wooden room – an attempted security measure from Mother.

  It might buy her a few precious minutes.

  Hands bloodied and shaking, she picks up her chair and swings it towards the blocked window as hard as she can. It shudders, splinters appearing in the dark wood.

  Coughing, she rears back and swings again – it cracks, enough to let some light in from outside, but not enough for her to escape.

  Despite the fact that it goes against her every instinct, Miyu shoves the desk to one wall, backs as far into the room as she can go, chair aloft, and charges with a running start for the window.

  The chair crashes through first, messily. It splinters the wood and careens through the hole it’s created, leaving jagged edges behind. Too far propelled by momentum, Miyu goes after it.

  She hears the tear of cloth, feels a stab of pain in her side and thigh, and then she’s lurching out of the window.

  Miyu only has a second to savour a gulp of fresh air before she’s falling to the ground head first.

  When she wakes next, the pale light of dawn stings at her eyes. She can hear the crackling and creaking of a fire, smell it in the air. A hacking cough sends a jolt of pain through her, so severe she can’t move for a few moments as she tries to catch her breath.

  She blinks up from the ground, and realises the charred, blackened building she’s looking up at is the Okiya.

  “No!” Her voice is hoarse and she hurts all over but she pushes herself to her feet anyway.

  Her legs tremble as she rounds the side of the building until she’s at what used to be the main entrance. The building has collapsed.

  Miyu can feel herself shaking as she takes it in, wondering why no one is here, why no one is helping. But she knows why.

  The tea stall to the left of what used to be the Okiya is unmarred with the exception of some smoke damage. The windows of her home have been barred shut.

  This is her fault, gods, this is her –

  A figure appears to her right, out of nowhere.

  Miyu flinches away, stumbles, falls.

  Everything jars painfully, and she wonders if this is how she dies. If a ninja has been sent to finish the job.

  But when she looks up through her tears she sees red eyes blazing and she feels only relief.

  “Itachi?” She sounds wrecked, small, hurt.

  But the street is silent and no alarms have been raised and her home has been burnt to the ground with – with her - her family inside.

  The figure kneels before her and it takes a few more blinks through her burning eyes to make out their features.

  And then she panics.

  Because it’s not Itachi, and he might be here to kill her, and –

  “My name is Uchiha Sasuke,” he says in a steady voice, a single hand reaching out to land on her thigh. It’s an odd place to decide to rest his hand.

  “Itachi, is he-”

  “He’s not here.” Red eyes leave hers, scan her from head to toe.

  She chokes out a cry as pain shoots up her leg.

  His hand is applying pressure, she realises, to the gash in her thigh. She hadn’t noticed it before, but it does seem to be bleeding.

  “We’re leaving,” he says, and then a pack appears out of seemingly nowhere and he pulls bandages from it. He wraps her leg swiftly, and then, peering at the blood on her torso, he wraps that too, straight over her clothes.

  “I don’t have time to patch you up now,” he talks to her as he does it and she can do nothing but stare.

  And then he moves towards her again and she realises he means to pick her up.

  “Wait!” She rasps, looking to the Okiya, “I – is – can you tell me if there’s anyone alive?”

  The look he levels her with is unreadable.

  “There is no one.”

  She realises the sharp intake of breath is hers.

  "Are you sure?" she chokes, hoping desperately that he'll double take and find-

  "No one." His voice is low and soft.

  Feels her face crumpling, her body beginning to shake.

  He watches her for only a moment before he leans in and picks her up, one arm beneath her knees and one behind her back.

  “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and then they are moving.

  When they stop next, Miyu’s cheeks are sticky with tears that were forced to dry fast along with Sasuke’s pace. Out of the capital, in the canopy of the great Hashirama trees, they halt on a huge branch.

  Sasuke sets her down with her back against an enormous trunk, and his pack appears again. Out of it he pulls supplies.

  Miyu blinks at him hazily, wanting very badly to sleep. Her head nods for just a second –

  “Stay awake,” comes the order, uncompromising, “I’m not a medic, and you probably have a concussion.”

  Though her eyelids are heavy and stinging, she nods. It sends a dizzying wave of pain through her head and she barely suppresses her gasp.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Her yukata is torn and blackened with soot. Sasuke clicks his tongue when he realises that her obi is hanging together by barely a thread. He turns to his pack and pulls out a black bundle of cloth.

  Opening her yukata, which she can’t even muster up embarrassment about, he disinfects her leg – painful – and applies a few stitches – even more painful. And then he applies an antiseptic balm and wraps it in clean bandages.

  There are a few shallow slashes over her abdomen and waist, deep enough to need cleaning and bandaging, but not stitches. She’s grazed her shins and badly bruised her hands – which Sasuke also cleans and bandages, but aside from the potential concussion her head is uninjured.

  “I’m sorry,” she croaks, eyes tearing up as she watches him work. “For bleeding on you.”

  His hands stop moving, and she looks up to meet his dark gaze.

  “It’s alright,” he looks strained, like he’s trying to figure out how to hold himself, or what to say, “you can bleed on me as much as you like-”

  He scowls, though she gathers it’s more at himself than anything , “Wait, no – no – I didn’t mean it like that, I just-”

  Miyu watches him, still trying to blink away tears. He finally stops, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head. The rectangular painted earrings dangling from his ears rustle against his collar.

  “What I meant,” he says stiffly, “is that it’s not a worry. Please don’t apologise.”

  Her attempts as keeping the tears at bay fail then, but he doesn’t comment as he resumes his task.

  Miyu’s lungs still ache and she coughs painfully every now and then, but aside from her stinging eyes and the dull ache in her chest there’s nothing else wrong with her.

  “Change into these,” he holds out the bundle and with stiff fingers she picks them up and realises they’re a spare set of plain black pants and a long-sleeved black shirt.

  He has to help her stand, and in the end he basically dresses her. He stoops to her feet and helps her ease her legs into the loose pants. They’re way too big for her, although he uses a strip of her old yukata to make her enough of a belt that the pants don’t completely slide off. Though he looks away when she sheds the rest of her yukata, leaving her in only a light, bloodied camisole, he has no trouble helping her into that either.

  He does something with a scroll and her torn, bloodied clothes disappear alongside his supplies.

  “Let’s go.”

  He turns and gives her his back, crouching. Tentatively, she eases onto it, wincing when her injuries get jostled.

  And then they’re moving again, too fast for Miyu to make out anything but blurs of green and brown.

  .

  “Sugawara-san,” says the blonde man opposite her, “you have gained permission from the Hokage to settle in Konoha as a non-threat to the village.”

  His pale blue eyes lack an iris, and his face is stern. He’s from one of Konoha’s distinct clans, but she’s never seen them before.

  He had been thorough when he rifled through her memories to ensure she wasn’t an infiltrator, and part of her wonders what he made of her memories. The worst threat she poses is probably upsetting the rankings of existing Konoha shogi competitions with her presence.

  She waits for him to say more, head throbbing. The pain behind her eyes is sharp, and her whole head seems to pulse with tension in time with her heartbeat.

  “The ninja that brought you here informed us that your life may be in danger due to evidence found on the scene.”

  Miyu gives him one slow blink.

  Really? Who would have thought?

  He makes no indication that her lack of response bothers him.

  “We advise that you exert caution and hope you enjoy your time in Konoha.”

  When she stands the blood rushes to her already pounding head, sending black dots across her vision. With just a small falter she manages to regain her equilibrium and follow the blonde man out of the dim room. They walk through seemingly endless corridors, though the walk feels shorter on the back than it had on her way in.

  They finally exit into a reception area of sorts, and the blonde man gestures to the doors.

  “I believe someone is collecting you, Sugawara-san.”

  She hopes desperately that it’s Itachi.

  “Sugawara Miyu.”

  Someone says her name as she steps outside, blinded by the bright sunlight of Konoha.

  But - it’s too bright, too loud, and her head feels like it’s going to explode and, gods-

  .

  When she wakes next, she’s in a dim room.

  She’s still wearing the clothes Sasuke had lent her, but her bare feet are now clean and her head doesn’t hurt nearly as much. When she shifts, she thinks she feels surprisingly okay.

  The room comes into focus gradually. Plain grey walls, a lone window with the curtain drawn. She’s on a king bed, and the covers are a deep navy blue with little throwing stars patterned onto them.

  She dares to stretch, wincing as she expects the pull from her stitches, and does a double take when she realises there is none.

  There are two doors in the room. One is shut, but the other is open, and it leads to an ensuite. She almost falls out of bed in her haste to reach it, and once she’s standing before the mirror she lifts the hem of the baggy shirt.

  Her skin is pale and smooth, not a bandage or scar in sight. She roughly tugs down the pants and finds that there is a scar on her left thigh precisely where the wound had been, but it’s pink and shiny as though it’s had weeks to heal rather than – Ah.

  She’d better find out how long she has been out. And, you know. Where she is.

  That would be helpful.

  Miyu pulls the pants back up, tying the sooty strap of her old yukata around her waist. The top hangs to the middle of her thighs. She washes her face, even though it seems to be clean already, and gives herself a good look in the mirror.

  There are bags below her eyes, and her face is pale and drawn. Her hair is somehow not tangled, as though someone had taken care to brush through it while she was out. She ignores how terrified that makes her feel and tries to be glad that it’s sitting in well behaved waves instead.

  Steeling herself, she exits the ensuite and makes for what must be the exit. Her feet don’t make a lot of sound on the wooden floorboards, but even then she can’t hear anything outside of the room.

  When she gets to the door, she waits for a moment, hand resting against the knob and only trembling slightly. Slowly, quietly, she opens it.

  Before her is a living room. There’s a worn old couch and a few armchairs around a low coffee table. The wall opposite her is occupied by a large bookcase.

  To her left are a set of windows, and to the right, a kitchen. Which is currently occupied.

  Miyu takes a moment to survey the man and young woman as they both look to her.

  The man is tall, with a shock of grey, gravity defying hair atop his head. He’s leaning against the countertop, arms crossed over his chest. His face is covered to the bridge of his nose by a skin-tight mask that seems to be part of his shirt. A forehead protector with the Konoha insignia engraved into it is tilted to cover one eye.

  The woman sitting at the island, well. Her pink hair is vibrant, but it’s her bright green eyes that take up most of Miyu’s attention. Her heart shaped face is eye catching and the smile she offers is soft.

  So pretty.

  And most likely, deadly. But still –

  “Miyu-san,” the woman says, and Miyu’s ridiculously grateful that they both make no move towards her. She doesn’t know that she’d be able to control her instinctive reactions around two ninja who could kill her just like that.

  “It’s good to see you awake. I’m Sakura.”

  Even weak and tired, Miyu has her manners.

  She bows neatly, “Forgive me for the intrusion. I’m grateful to make your acquaintance, Sakura-san.” Because of course this must be one of their apartments.

  “Mah, mah,” the man waves a hand at her, tone light. “It’s fine, really. Who doesn’t want damsels fainting on them at eleven in the morning?”

  “My apologies,” Miyu says without a shred of sincerity, “I had a rather eventful evening, you see.”

  “Eventful?” The man quirks his one visible brow – or maybe he raises both, she can’t tell - but he’s not playing coy.

  “Rather so,” she nods, and then steps a little closer, “if I may ask where I am-”

  “This is Kakashi’s place,” Sakura gestures to the man opposite her. “You’re in Konoha. It’s three in the afternoon, you were out for a little while.”

  “Thank you,” Miyu says, watching as Kakashi turns to his cupboard and pulls out a glass. “Was it one of you that I so thoughtlessly fainted on?”

  “Yep,” Sakura pops the ‘p’ with a grin, “Kakashi-sensei was worried you were dying so he called me.”

  “Dying,” at Miyu’s flat tone, the man in question turns to her and sets a tall glass of water before her. “Does Konoha not have a hospital?”

  Sakura throws her head back and cackles then, as Kakashi levels her with an unimpressed look.

  “Sakura’s the best medic in Konoha.” He says blandly, “And hospitals suck.”

  Miyu blinks. Having never been to one, she wouldn’t know.

  “Fair enough,” she nods, and then picks up the glass under the pressure of Kakashi’s dark grey stare.

  “You should hydrate,” Sakura tells her, “you had a concussion, and you’ll be feeling the effects of the blood loss for a few more days.”

  Miyu finishes the water, and barely sets it down before it reappears again, full. Kakashi keeps staring at her.

  “Is there a bank nearby?” She asks before sipping at the second glass.

  Kakashi and Sakura share a look that she can’t quite decipher.

  “A bank,” repeats Sakura, peering at Miyu as though she needs to check her out again.

  “I came here in a bit of a rush,” she can’t help it if her response is dry, “I didn’t-” couldn’t “-bring anything.”

  With a pang she’ realises that the others are dead. Mother, Masa, Kikyo. Even Nanami, who Miyu thought would stare death down disdainfully until it turned and went the other way. Gone.

  They both stare at her.

  She represses a sigh and takes another sip of water before continuing, hoping her voice doesn’t tremble with the grief she feels.

  “I’d like to withdraw some money, perhaps find a place to stay.”

  She finishes the glass and hops off the stool to place it in the sink. She washes it while she’s there, feeling eyes on her back.

  “If either of you could point me to a bank, or even the market district, I would greatly appreciate it. I thank you for your hospitality and apologise for imposing on you.”

  She accompanies this with a low bow, and when she rises, they’re both staring.

  Kakashi speaks first.

  “You don’t have any shoes.”

  Miyu looks down to her feet, and then back up to him.

  “That can be rectified after I visit a bank.”

  Sakura speaks up next.

  “How will you verify your identity if you have nothing with you?”

  Miyu smiles politely at that.

  “I have a very specific security key.”

  The ninja exchange another look.

  “If it’s too much trouble I’ll find it myself, thank you again for your help-”

  “How are you so calm?” Sakura blurts.

  Miyu tilts her head and manages to suppress a wince as it throbs a little.

  “Sasuke told us how he found you. We were expecting tears and hysterics… not this.”

  Ah. Miyu could very easily break down at any second. The fact that she has a few urgent tasks to complete is helping her maintain her focus.

  “I mustn’t burden you with my problems,” she says instead. “You have been so kind already.”

  It’s a diversion, and the way Kakashi is eyeing her tells her he knows.

  “I can take you to the bank,” Sakura’s voice is softer, “Sasuke is already out looking for potential apartments. Let me lend you a set of clothes first – I think I even have shoes, hold on.”

  Miyu opens her mouth to decline, and then glances down at herself. It’s doubtful anyone will serve her barefoot, dressed in clothes much too large for her.

  She will return Sakura’s clothes and repay her some other time.