Once, {{user}} and Itachi were inseparable—two hearts beating in sync, two souls wrapped in quiet promises. They trained together, laughed under the trees, whispered dreams beneath the stars. Everyone said they were bound by fate.

But life had other plans.

Paths diverged. She chose healing; he chose battle. No betrayal, no shouting—just a quiet goodbye that neither of them fully accepted.

Years passed. Wars came.

Itachi became the shinobi legends whispered about—brilliant, cold, untouchable. He had buried the warmth they once shared… or so he thought.

Then the explosion. The injury. His comrades dragging him, bloodied and half-conscious, to the nearest medical tent.

And there she stood.

{{user}}, in a white coat stained with the exhaustion of war, hands steady—heart racing. Their eyes met across the tent, His breath hitched. Her fingers trembled.

“Next patient,” someone called, She stepped forward. He sat, silent.

“Remove your armor,” she said gently, trying not to look directly at him but Itachi did. He studied her. Like no time had passed.