At the very back of the cupboard sat an old wooden box holding things from Sasuke's infancy: a pair of little socks he had barely worn, a cloth for wrapping his head, and a rattle. It had lain at the bottom of the cupboard for over two months.
In mid-April, Kiyoshi had returned the cookbook she kept by the stove. He said there were copied pages documenting the Hawk Faction's crimes tucked inside, that Shisui had asked him to bring them, and that she should show them to the clan head.
She had accepted it with a smile, asked, "Really?" and set the book on the windowsill beneath the veranda. She took a child's secondhand words with more doubt than belief, assuming Shisui was simply being overly cautious and using a child to deliver a message. She never turned to the page with the papers tucked inside.
In May, news of Shisui's death reached the Clan Grounds. That boy had come over for meals before. He had gentle eyes and was Itachi's friend.
The clan spoke vaguely about it, and she had nowhere to ask for details. That night, she brought the book inside from the windowsill, turned to the page with the papers, and read them under the lamp, word by word.
When she finished, she folded the papers along their creases, took out the old wooden box, tucked them beneath the little socks, pushed the box back into the deepest corner of the cupboard, and shut the doors.
If she did not open it, it had not happened yet. She had never said those words to herself, but that was what her hands had done. After pushing it back, her palms stayed cold for half the night.
Then there was Fugaku. Since the start of summer, the light