Escape

"... I have no ill intentions towards you now. Moreover, I won't involve innocent people, especially not a baby."

Little Sasuke's feelings were complicated—just a few hours ago, he thought there were no relatives left in the world for him to recognize.

He thought he would never have "family" again in his life, but now, suddenly, he has an older sister and a nephew.

A living, breathing nephew, sleeping soundly, completely unaware of anything. The feeling was so strange, so strange, that his mind simply couldn't process it.

However, Uchiha Yū's vigilance did not relax at all.

Her arms were still tightly wrapped around the child in her arms, not in a constricting way, but in a protective, enveloping way.

Her posture was very deliberate—the curve of her arms was just right to encircle the child in her arms, but without making him feel uncomfortable; her fingers gently rested on his back, ready to pat him or soothe him at any time.

Uchiha knew nothing. He was simply nestled comfortably in his mother's arms, his little head resting on Yuzu's chest, his mouth slightly open, his breathing light and shallow. He was completely unaware of what was happening outside.

He didn't know that someone was questioning his mother, nor did he know that the boy standing at the door shared the same surname as him. All he knew was that his mother's arms were warm, her heartbeat was beautiful, and her body temperature was just right.

"I'll get straight to the point, Itachi Uchiha..."

Before Little Sasuke could finish speaking, he was interrupted by a sudden voice.

"Wrong!"

Uchiha Yū's voice suddenly rose, her body shrank back slightly, and her arms holding the child tightened involuntarily for a moment before she quickly let go, afraid of hurting Yang in her arms.

Her face was filled with evasion and resistance—an expression not directed at Little Sasuke, but at that name, that name she no longer wanted.

"My name is... Uchiha Yū."

Little Sasuke watched her avoidance and resistance, he suddenly understood something.

When faced with things that terrify us, things that could break us down, we have an instinctive reaction—to run away.

She didn't want to think about it, didn't want to touch it, didn't want to face it. What Uchiha Yū was afraid of wasn't death itself, but something else, something more terrifying to her than death.

Little Sasuke clenched his fist. He finally asked the question that had been weighing on his mind for many years, and he asked it very directly.

Do you regret it?

"That day, you arbitrarily decided the fate of many people, detached many from their original lives, and even caused many deaths. Do you regret it?"

He looked into Uchiha Yū's eyes, trying to find the answer within them.

He had waited too long, so many years; he had to know the answer.

Uchiha Yū did not answer immediately.

She lowered her head, looking at Yang in her arms. She gently rocked him, very slowly, her expression unreadable, but the arm she held around the child was tighter than before.

Time passed by, minute by minute. The corridor was so quiet that you could hear the sound of airflow in the ventilation ducts, the occasional footsteps in the distance, and Yang's soft breathing.

Sasuke stood there, waiting, waiting, until he couldn't help but ask again—

"... this child."

Uchiha Yū finally spoke.

His name is Yang. Yang as in the sun.

She lowered her head, bringing her face close to Yang's forehead. "He's so fragile. So fragile that I can't take my eyes off him for even a second. He knows nothing—he cries when he's hungry, sleeps when he's tired, and stops fussing when someone holds him. He doesn't know who I am, what I've done, or how many people in this world hate me. He only knows—as long as I'm here, he's not hungry; as long as I'm here, he's not cold; as long as I'm here, he's safe."

"Wait a moment..."

Sasuke frowned, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

"He's really cute."

Uchiha Yū continued talking as if she hadn't heard Sasuke's words.

"When I held him, it felt so warm. He was so soft and small, just the right size to hold in my arms. He relied on me a lot and trusted me completely. There's no one in the world who trusts me like he does."

"Wait a moment?!"

Sasuke finally couldn't hold back any longer, his voice suddenly rising, filled with a mixture of urgency and confusion.

"What are you talking about?! I'm not asking about this child, I'm asking about those people! The Uchiha clan members! Those Uchiha clan members whose fates were changed because of you! Uncle Teshio! Aunt Kibi! Those—"

"Waaah..."

A soft, gentle hum came from Yuzu's arms, interrupting Sasuke's words.

Uchiha rubbed his little face against Yu's chest, as if expressing his dissatisfaction with the suddenly louder sound. His eyelids twitched, and his mouth pursed, looking like he might cry at any moment.

"Sweetheart, sweetheart, don't be afraid, baby..."

Uchiha Yū's voice immediately changed, becoming soft and gentle. She lowered her head and pressed her lips to Yang's forehead, "Mommy's here. Mommy's here. Don't be afraid, don't be afraid..."

She gently patted Yang's back, and Yang's little face slowly relaxed. His whimpering stopped, and he sank back into a peaceful sleep where he knew nothing.

Uchiha Sasuke loosened his fist.

He looked at the baby who had fallen asleep again in his mother's arms, at a scene he had never imagined in his life.

The anger in his heart suddenly subsided. He didn't know how to face Uchiha Yū like this.

He didn't know how to ask her, "Do you regret killing those people?" when she was holding her child and trying to put her to sleep.

"... Won't you leave if I don't make things clear?"

Uchiha Yū's voice came from the front, finally confronting the problem.

"I've thought about it many times."

"Actually, I understand. What right do I have to live? What right do I have to hold my child? What right do I have to hold onto hope and live in this world?"

When she said these words, there was no self-deprecation, no anger, and no resolute "I know I deserve to die" in her tone.

"But... I can't think about it now."

Her voice began to tremble.

"I can't think about it..."

She didn't say the second half of the sentence. She couldn't. If she thought about it, if she really and seriously asked herself, "What right do you have to live?", if she laid out all the things she had done one by one—she was afraid.

She was afraid she wouldn't be able to hold the child anymore. Her hands would loosen, her heart would crumble, and she would realize she was unworthy to stand in the sunlight, unworthy to hold this child named "Yang," unworthy to be a mother.

She will break down, she will collapse, she will turn into a pile of shattered pieces that she can't even lift herself up. And then, what will happen to Yang? Who will hold him? Who will comfort him? Who will hold him in their arms when he wakes up crying in the middle of the night? Who will use their body heat to tell him, "Don't be afraid, Mommy's here"?

So she couldn't think about it. She dared not think about it. She wrapped herself in a thin shell, avoiding touching those things, looking at those things, and thinking about those things.

She knew that shell would crumble sooner or later, that those things would come knocking sooner or later, and that she would have to face them eventually. But at least not now. At least not today. At least—while Yang still needed her.