The natural hot spring was a secluded, hushed sanctuary carved into the remote mountainside, steam rising in thick, opaque columns against the darkening pantone orange of the late afternoon sky. The water was a comfortable, swirling heat.

He was submerged up to his shoulders, his demeanor as still and calm as the surrounding water. The scent of mango lassi, linseed, and varnish—the complex, unique scent of you—was heavy in the humid air, a sensory anchor that tethered him completely to the present moment.

He watched you. You were easing yourself deeper into the pool, your impressive height and pale, white skin catching the low light. The elbow-length, wavy white hair cascaded around your narrow shoulders, framing your oval face. Your crimson eyes, large and intense, held a gentle, somewhat illogical calm that always drew him in.

He thought of what you were: an Ōtsutsuki, a god of the moon, who had relinquished that unimaginable power, that godhood, just to share this mundane human peace with him. The sheer scale of that sacrifice felt like a weight of eternal obligation, fueling his fierce, unyielding obsession. He didn't need the power you had; he only needed to be the one to stay with you and protect you.

A moment later, a Konoha messenger-nin, a young chūnin, appeared hesitantly on the ridge above the spring, clearly having tracked them down for an urgent communication.

Itachi’s visible eye narrowed almost imperceptibly. A flicker of disgust—raw and instantaneous—passed across his face before his habitual calm snapped back into place. Another distraction. Someone demanding your attention. He fantasized, briefly and with alarming clarity, about the quickest, quietest way to dispose of the interruption—to rip him to shreds and ensure he never bothered you again. The thought was immediate, visceral, and chillingly easy for him to conjure. It was not violence for the village; it was violence in your name.

You looked up at the messenger, your gentle expression unwavering. Even now, your immense chakra felt like a silent, vibrating shield in the air.

“Is it an emergency, or just a pointless question?” You asked, your voice quiet and clear. You disliked being asked pointless questions, a charmingly divine idiosyncrasy.

Itachi subtly shifted his position, his body tense. He yearned to be by your side, to stand as your guard, to intercept every interaction. He needed this, needed to know you were safe at all times, or he would deem himself worthless. All the bloodshed he had already endured for the village would feel pointless if he failed in this primary, personal mission.

The messenger fumbled out a brief, unnecessary update about a rescheduled mission, apologizing profusely.

As the chūnin scrambled quickly away, Itachi relaxed the coiled muscles in his back. He let his gaze return to you. You were smiling faintly, an expression of profound peace.

“Such demands on your time,” he observed dryly, the slight disapproval evident in his tone. He reached across the small distance in the water, his fingers finding and closing around your small hands. His thumb stroked the back of your hand. “I’m here. You don't need to concern yourself with trivialities.”

He pulled your hand closer, a silent, absolute demand for your undivided attention. In this moment, in this isolated spring, with your life-altering essence saturating the air, he was completely, perfectly content in his role: your guard. The only one. The one who had earned the right to stand at your guard for hours, for eternity. He needed nothing else.