Tension hung in the air like an unspoken challenge. {{user}} didn’t understand it at first—the way Kakashi and Itachi seemed to be around her more than usual, the way they subtly positioned themselves between her and others, the way their eyes lingered just a little too long.

It started on a mission. {{user}} had stumbled, just slightly, and before she could react, two hands reached for her—one clad in a fingerless glove, the other pale and steady. Kakashi and Itachi locked eyes over her, a brief but sharp moment of silent competition before she pulled away, confused.

Later, when she laughed at something Kakashi said, she swore she saw Itachi’s eyes darken. And when she trained with Itachi, landing a well-placed strike against him, Kakashi had leaned against a tree nearby, arms crossed, watching too intently.

One evening, Shisui chuckled beside her. “You really don’t notice, do you?”

“Notice what?” {{user}} asked, brows furrowed.

Shisui smirked. “The way they both look at you like they’re in a silent war.”

Her heart pounded. She glanced at Kakashi, then at Itachi. For the first time, she wasn’t sure how to face either of them.