Itachi steps into the hall just as the first piece contacts the shogi board. He casts his eyes around and locates the Konoha delegates easily. He pointedly avoids the Uchiha component, instead sidling up to the wall behind the seats to stand beside the masked shinobi guard.
Beneath the traditional attire he can sense Asuma’s annoyed chakra. It sets Itachi on edge.
“What’s going on?” He murmurs, too low for anyone but Asuma to hear.
“New Daimyo’s trying to make a splash with our esteemed foreign guests,” his voice is clipped, and Itachi lets his eyes finally land on Miyu, who is sitting beautifully composed before the Daimyo.
“I didn’t realise this game was scheduled,” Itachi knows Miyu didn’t mention it in any of their correspondence, or even to Chikako.
“It wasn’t,” he can hear the scowl in Asuma’s tone as the Daimyo talks.
“Ah,” trying to hide how suddenly nervous he is, Itachi shifts to get a better view of the board.
“…find that the ugly, hulking lady I had been expecting is in fact, very young, and quite beautiful.”
Itachi narrows his eyes as the Daimyo makes another careless move, and then sits back and focuses his muddy brown eyes on Miyu’s face.
“You flatter me, Damiyo-sama,” hearing her voice again sends a jolt to his stomach, and he wants so intently to snatch her away from this farce as soon as possible. “I resent my small stature. Perhaps if I had been large and intimidating, I might scare away my opponents without any thought at all.”
A snort sounds from the Konoha seated section and Itachi’s eyes find Nara Ensui’s back. A few nobles struggle to contain their reflexive laughter or outrage. Another masked ninja joins them and Itachi nods in greeting as the Daimyo continues talking, having missed the jab entirely.
Someone’s chakra flares in Konoha-sign, and Itachi makes out the word ‘imbecile’.
Someone else replies with ‘hahaha’. Which is closely followed by ‘I love this lady she’s giving me bad bitch vibes.’
That’s probably someone from the Inuzuka delegation.
As the Daimyo continues to blather, Itachi watches Miyu’s carefully polite face. She holds herself in a way that highlights her softness. The lines of her body, graceful and unassuming. But her eyes – even from here, he can see them – are steely and unyielding.
He watches as she makes a move that so blatantly removes the Daimyo’s available options it makes Asuma chuckle quietly, even as the head of their country asks why Miyu is unmarried.
‘I bet she’s into women’ someone signs.
‘Or she crushes the souls of any men who approach her’ signs another.
“What are you doing here anyway? Didn’t see you come in with the Uchiha representatives.”
Itachi knows Asuma is watching him even through the mask.
“I was passing through,” he lies easily, because there’s no way he’s going to reveal that he just managed to get his leave approved in time.
“Ah,” Asuma hums, sounding unconvinced, “so all this talk of the esteemed Uchiha clan heir and his shogi mistress is untrue, then?”
Itachi shrugs, eyes trained on the next move in Miyu’s sequence.
‘It will be over in ten moves’ someone signs as the Daimyo suddenly pushes up from the table to stand. Itachi stares hard at the man, watching as he begins to circle Miyu like prey. It’s a lot like watching a little bird hop around a silent, still cat.
He watches Miyu’s eyes dart to the crowd and wishes he had arrived sooner to get a front row seat. Instead her eyes lock onto a man attending front and centre – one that his brief sweep for intel prior to the festival tells him is Makishima.
They stare silently for a few moments as the Daimyo’s hand reaches out slowly to brush against the pretty glass shower of snowflakes attached to Miyu’s hairpin.
“Pretty,” he hums in appreciation, and then plucks it from her hair with a sharp tug.
Itachi tenses so sharply at least three ninja turn to look, and Asuma goes still beside him, waiting. He has to consciously unwind as the Daimyo tosses the hairpin to the table and resumes his slow circling of the board.
Miyu is sitting with her back straight and her shoulders artfully relaxed. He admires her then, her unwavering calm in the face of this man who would try to shame her before the court and their guests. He’s talking again, and Itachi listens with half an ear as Konoha ninja start signing again.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
‘5000ryo on her ending it in under 10 moves’
‘10000ryo for six more moves’
‘25000ryo on five more’
Itachi’s eyes zone in on the back of Nara Ensui’s spiked ponytail once more, and he knows he’d be matching the man’s bet in almost any scenario.
“Knight to one D.”
The other masked guard beside Asuma hums in interest as they watch Miyu neatly reach for the aforementioned piece without complaint. Itachi takes a deep, slow breath as the Daimyo continues his prowling until he’s standing behind Miyu. The man leans down, shifting her hair over her shoulder, touching along her jaw, trailing down her neck and across her collar bone.
Through it all she stays very, very still, as though she’s barely breathing. Her face is stony and shut off, and it takes Asuma’s hand on his shoulder to stop the involuntary step forward to get closer to her, to reach her –
“-sometimes,” the Daimyo’s fingers almost creep beneath the collar of her kimono and the other guard moves to almost block his view of the scene, “that which is beautiful isn’t meant to be anything more.”
He wants to see her face, watch how she handles this – almost as much as he wants to shove the Daimyo through the wall of the building. But his eyes are straining now, to see the minute details of her face from this distance, and he knows he can’t activate his bloodline limit here and now.
‘What a prick’ signs someone from the front row.
‘Fuck him. He’s definitely compensating, I fucked one of his courtesans before this game and they told me his cock is small.’
Someone further back in the seats almost chokes at that and Itachi watches as Ensui’s shoulder’s tremble with laughter.
“…talk of beautiful, useful things,” Miyu’s tone shifts suddenly from light and conversational to cold and blunt, “it’s a shame that some things are neither.”
‘OOOOOOH NO SHE DIDN’T’
‘Girl’s got fire!’
‘You tell him Miyu-hime!’
‘Bad bitches only! Bad bitches only!’
‘Miyu-chan! Miyu-chan! Miyu-chan!’
Itachi is torn between enjoying this impromptu cheer squad or snatching Miyu and making a run for it. The Daimyo summons tea and he shrugs off Asuma’s hand, nodding in thanks to the other masked guard for making sure he didn’t partake in any foolish behaviour.
‘And she’s tightened the noose with that move,’ Ensui’s commentary isn’t missed as the tea is brought out. Itachi is just starting to relax again when the Daimyo blatantly spills his steaming cup onto his attendant, who accidentally –
He doesn’t realise he’s activated his sharingan until half the Konoha delegation jerk to attention, suddenly sharp and focused. Asuma’s arm is the only thing barring him from lunging forward, and for just a moment the room is plunged into complete silence.
“I’m so sorry, oh-”
“It’s alright,” Miyu’s voice is soft, calm despite the boiling tea that's just been spilled down her side. It makes Itachi stop trying to strain against Asuma’s unyielding hold. “It’s not a worry.”
‘It’s very MUCH a worry, you literal fucking angel’
The very Inuzuka sign eases the tension on the ninja-front.
“Please,” Miyu’s hands are gentle as she brushes them off, “it’s not worth the trouble-”
With a sudden movement Makishima and the delegation from Iron stand and leave without paying their respects to the Daimyo. Itachi can just barely make out the slight downturn to Miyu’s lip for just half a second before she schools her face into polite calm once more.
‘Our Daimyo, ladies and gents,’ comes a sarcastic, Nara-tinted comment.
‘I didn’t choose him,’ is the Inuzuka-esque reply.
‘Four more moves’ Ensui seems certain.
And so Miyu shepherds the Daimyo to a ridiculous end.
“Well,” the Daimyo pushes to his feet, “that was rather easier than expected. I thought you’d be more of a difficult opponent.”
Miyu stands, and it’s graceful and unyielding.
“I would never presume to be a threat to one as noble as you, Daimyo-sama.”
‘OOOOOOOOH’
‘She did that! She really did that!’
‘Oh my gods I love her.’
“It must have been difficult to face your Daimyo,” the fool is gloating, “I’m quite dangerous when it comes to strategy, evidently.”
Miyu smiles and it’s cold and sharp and screams of danger.
‘She’s so hot I want to DIE.’
Itachi agrees silently.
And then she opens her pretty mouth and says, “It was a true challenge.”
Ensui snorts loud enough to be heard by the rest of the hall, but he doesn’t seem to care even as he gets elbowed by his clansman.
‘Yes bitch you tell him!’
‘Miyuuuuuuuuu we love you!’
'Do you think she'd step on me if I asked nicely?'
‘Somebody call a medic this motherfucker just got BURNT-’
Itachi rolls the tension out of his shoulders as he watches Miyu subtly do the same.
“Thank you for the honour.” And she bows low – first to the Daimyo, and then to the audience. She takes her leave in almost absolute silence. As the Daimyo turns to make his exit, the hall erupts in chatter. Itachi hears snippets of conversations between nobles, representatives of the shogi association, even foreign delegates.
But the conversation he dreads is walking right to him, spiky pony-tail and all.
“And I thought Shisui was exaggerating,” Ensui smirks, and Itachi takes in his slightly smudged eyeliner from where he’d laughed hard enough to shed a tear.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he deflects, very aware that Asuma is levelling him with an unimpressed stare despite the fact that he can’t see it.
“Passing through, were you?” asks the Sarutobi flatly.
“Oho?” Ensui looks like he’s having way too much fun, “You’re still denying this forbidden romance, Itachi? Come on, if it wasn’t for Asuma you’d have started a national emergency with your killing intent.”
Itachi keeps his face blank as Asuma huffs out a laugh.
“That woman really is something,” Ensui smirks at him and Itachi stamps down the impulse to frown, “better make sure you’re worthy.”
Of course Ensui would go with something cryptic. Itachi doesn’t have the will to stay and figure out what he means – all he can think about is Miyu, out in the streets, her careful composure unravelling the same way it had beneath the stars by the fire.
“I’ve got a mission,” he lies, stepping away from the pair, “see you around.”
He takes just a moment to substitute a senbon with the hairpin on the main playing table.
And then he flash-steps his way out of there.
