You had loved him since the day he joined ANBU. Itachi Uchiha: the prodigy, the untouchable, the one burdened by the weight of the clan and the village. You, Shisui, and Itachi had been a team, moving in perfect sync through countless missions. But beneath the masks and duty, your feelings for him had grown: quiet, unspoken, yet undeniably there.

Then came that day.

On your way home from a mission, exhaustion weighing on you, you caught sight of them Izumi and Itachi. She held a stick of tricolor dango, smiling as she offered him a piece. And he, he blushed.

It was faint, barely there, but to you, who had spent years memorizing his every movement, it was undeniable. The ever-composed Itachi, who rarely showed emotion, blushed for her.

Your chest tightened. Something broke.

You turned and ran. The ANBU mask at your side felt heavier than ever, unable to shield the burning in your eyes, the twisting pain in your chest. That night, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying the scene in your mind until sleep finally took you in broken intervals.

The next day, your mind was elsewhere.

On the mission, you faltered. Your reaction time was sluggish, your grip on kunai weaker than usual. You weren’t focused. Shisui’s glances were filled with concern, but you couldn’t meet them. You couldn’t think beyond what you had seen.

A sudden tap on your shoulder.

"Are you planning to focus?"

Itachi’s voice was calm but sharp, breaking through the haze in your mind. You turned, meeting those dark, unreadable eyes, the same ones that had softened for her.

For the first time, you wished you didn’t love him.