kakunosekai:

uchihasavior:

“This way.” The streets have not changed at all. Itachi is acutely aware of his current position and where the nearest shop is. Provided it has not closed down, it’s a five minute walk.

His hat obscures his face as he joins the crowd of villagers on the streets. It’s a mix of civilians and shinobi, chattering, going about their daily duties. Children are either out about playing, or towing behind their parents.

It seems peaceful. Calm. The populace is secure, even though their Sandaime has died recently. It puts Itachi at ease. There is not a Godaime in place yet, though he no doubts a search is underway. 

No one stops to gawk, at least from Itachi’s peripheral. He ducks his head under the entrance to the shop, choosing a seat directly in the middle, back facing the door. 

He orders his usual, and the waitress turns her attention to Mangetsu.

It’s weird how nobody’s recognized Itachi yet, he thinks. Especially
since this is the guy’s home. Wouldn’t they know his face? Itachi’s wasn’t hard
to forget, either. And when it was someone who’d wiped out the strongest clan in the village? Heck, you wouldn’t forget that
face a millennium later.

But Mangetsu’s glad no one’s sounded the alarm, because he’s
already taken a good sweeping glance across the room and especially of what
other people had ordered in front of them and he’s decided that this place
served some quality desserts. No rush, then.

He’s keeping the lower half of his face hidden behind that
cloak (there’s one good thing about
it, he figures) because the abnormally shaped teeth would more than likely give
him away. The takuhatsugasa covers the rest of him. He’s aware he looks like a talking
hat now when he orders three parfaits and a tall glass of some cold beverage.

When the girl taking their order leaves, he ends up being a
talking hat to Itachi: “Didja not use to come ‘ere often or what?” Because no
one’s said anything. Yet.

“There is more than one.” That will serve as Itachi’s answer for now. Voice quiet and collected, though not a whisper, as that would surely draw attention.

It is true, but it isn’t the true reason. Itachi didn’t get out much, besides missions. The villagers are all busy with their daily tasks and the rebuilding of their homes and other edifices. No one pays them any mind.

The tea, and their desserts, arrive all at once. Itachi sets his plate of dango infront of him and focuses on his tea, mug warm in his hands. 

Someone is stalling at the door. Waiting. Never entering. It puts him on slight edge. 

Well, you two are getting along…

….It’s nothing, Anko simply asked me to…

What are you doing here?

…Shopping. A gift for a grave. And I’m meeting someone. 

Sasuke. 

Itachi twitches. It’s visible between the pair, ring finger jolting, the grip around his mug tightening considerably. His gaze, obscured behind his collar and hat, immediately moves over to the door, keying in on the chatter about Obito. 

The mug is set down. It’s still piping hot, steam rising in soft curls. Coins are left on the table where his hand leaves it. This is their signal to leave, as a fourth set of footfalls near the stall.