Rain
The rain hadn’t stopped for three days.
It drummed softly against the rooftops of Konohagakure, turning the village pathways slick with mud and reflecting lantern light in shattered gold. Most shinobi hated weather like this.
Shisui Uchiha didn’t seem to mind it at all.
You noticed that first.
Not the stories. Not the infamous body flicker technique. Not the way other shinobi lowered their voices when speaking his name.
No.
It was the rain.
You stood beneath the awning outside the mission hall, clutching a stack of reports to your chest while cursing under your breath. Your sandals were soaked through, your hair clung to your face, and one particularly rude gust of wind nearly stole the papers from your hands.
Then a hand appeared above you.
Warm. Steady.
Holding an umbrella.
“You look like you’re losing a battle,” a voice said lightly.
You turned—and nearly forgot how to breathe.
Shisui smiled at you with easy amusement, dark eyes soft beneath the dim lantern glow. Rainwater slid from the edges of his umbrella while he stood there as if storms simply moved around him out of respect.
“I’m winning,” you muttered automatically.
“Ah. Of course.” His smile widened. “The reports say otherwise.”
You looked down.
One page had plastered itself directly to your leg.
Your face burned.
He laughed—not cruelly, but quietly, warmly—and crouched to peel the soaked paper free before it dissolved entirely.
“You’re terrible at this,” he said.
“You just met me.”
“And I’ve already gathered enough evidence.”
You should’ve been annoyed.
Instead, somehow, you found yourself laughing too.
—
After that, Shisui began appearing everywhere.
At the dango shop after missions.
On rooftops during patrol rotations.
Outside the training grounds with two cups of tea balanced effortlessly in one hand.
Sometimes he spoke constantly, teasing and clever and impossible to keep up with.
Other times he sat beside you in comfortable silence, watching the village lights flicker beneath the stars.
It became… easy.
Dangerously easy.
You learned that he carried burdens he never spoke about directly. That sometimes his smile faded when he thought nobody was looking. That he watched the village with the expression of someone trying desperately to protect something already beginning to crack apart.
But whenever you asked, he’d simply flick your forehead.
“You think too much,” he’d say.
And maybe you did.
Because one evening, standing beside him atop the Hokage Monument, you realized you were in love with him.
The realization hit like a kunai to the ribs.
Sharp.
Sudden.
Terrifying.
Shisui leaned back on his hands, staring at the horizon where sunset painted the sky crimson and gold.
“You’re quiet tonight.”
You swallowed hard. “Just tired.”
“Liar.”
You shot him a look. “You call everyone a liar?”
“Only the people I know well.”
The warmth in his voice made your chest ache.
Before you could stop yourself, you asked softly, “And what exactly am I to you?”
For once, Shisui went still.
The breeze tugged at his hair as he looked at you—not playful now, not teasing.
Just honest.
“That’s a dangerous question.”
Your heartbeat stumbled.
“Why?”
He smiled faintly, though sadness lingered beneath it.
“Because if I answer honestly,” he murmured, “you won’t be able to pretend anymore.”
The world seemed to narrow around the two of you.
The distant sounds of the village faded.
You could hear only the wind.
Only your heartbeat.
Only him.
“Then answer honestly,” you whispered.
Shisui stared at you for a long moment before reaching up carefully—like he was afraid you might disappear—and brushing his fingers against your cheek.
His touch was impossibly gentle.
“You’re the first thing I think about after missions,” he admitted quietly. “The first person I look for in a crowd.” His thumb brushed your skin once. “And lately… you’ve become the only reason this village still feels like home.”
Your breath caught painfully in your throat.
“Shisui…”
“You don’t have to say anything.” His voice softened. “I know this isn’t fair.”
But you were already moving.
Your hands caught the front of his shirt as you pulled him toward you, kissing him before fear could stop you.
For a split second he froze.
Then suddenly he was kissing you back with startling intensity, one arm wrapping around your waist as though he couldn’t bear any distance between you.
The rain began again.
Soft at first.
Cool drops against warm skin.
Neither of you cared.
When you finally pulled apart, breathless, Shisui rested his forehead against yours and laughed softly under his breath.
“There goes my self-control.”
“You had self-control?”
“Barely.”
You smiled for what felt like the first time in days.
And for one fragile, fleeting moment beneath the rain-soaked sky of Konoha, the future didn’t seem frightening at all.
