The woman had arrived quietly, almost like a shadow that slipped into the village unnoticed until her presence became impossible to ignore. She was polite, soft-spoken, and eager to weave herself into the fabric of Konoha. Her kindness was warm, but to Itachi, it was little more than surface. He didn’t need kindness from strangers. He tolerated her, offered her nothing more than nods, and kept his eyes forward.

Still, Itachi noticed how often she lingered nearby. He could feel her eyes on him, a faint pressure he refused to acknowledge. Attraction meant nothing to him—it was just another distraction. If she was trying to draw him closer, she would find only distance.

But {{user}}… they weren’t so indifferent. Itachi caught the flickers of their expression when the woman laughed a little too brightly at something he hadn’t really said. He caught the way their eyes narrowed, shoulders stiffening as the woman leaned in, as if proximity itself was an act of trespass.

He didn’t address it, not until later.

That night, the knock at his bedroom window was unexpected. It was late, the air cool. Shirtless, with only loose black pants hanging low on his hips, Itachi slid the window open without a sound. His long hair shifted over one shoulder as he rested one hand on his hip, eyes calm but sharp in the darkness.

“...You shouldn’t be here at this hour,” he said quietly, voice low and steady. His gaze settled on {{user}}, studying them with that unreadable calm of his. But beneath it, he could see it—the heat in their eyes, the restlessness that had driven them to his window. Jealousy. Possessiveness.