Don't Go into the Woods with the Witch

All she feels is sensual fatigue and a desire to collapse onto a soft bed as soon as possible. All she doesn’t want to feel is the annoying buzzing nearby. “Mistress, oh Mistress!” the blond boy is getting on her nerves, trying to overtake Yanlin, who is walking not far ahead. Yanlin is exasperated, completely worn out, even too tired to ignore the child. She didn’t expect a bath leaf to latch onto her on the way home, and such a persistent one at that. “Mistress, oh Mistress!” from the other side appears an equally annoying dark-haired whirlwind. They’ve completely surrounded her; there’s no escaping. Yanlin's eye twitches in irritation. She suddenly stops and barks: “What?!” The boys are not deterred by her angry outburst. “Is it true that you are a real witch?” Yanlin desperately wants to howl in frustration.

* * *

Yanlin didn’t notice that there were now four in her personal space: herself, a cat, and the two buzzing pests. “If you keep tormenting that poor plant, you’ll get a spanking,” she grumbles threateningly and takes the knife from the blond boy. She wants to show him the proper way. “You need to peel the skin thinner, not destroy half of the poor vegetable. Got it?” The boy nods, Yanlin returns the knife and the mutilated daikon radish. “Then go ahead. She glances sideways at the second boy, the dark-haired one. Surprisingly, the girl is doing much better: still clumsy, but without significant loss. Yanlin returns to sorting the pill bugs she hasn’t finished yet. “Mistress, why are you called a witch?” the light-haired boy can’t contain his curiosity. “I kidnap children and eat them on a full moon,” she replies immediately. “Especially those who talk too much,” and throws a pointed look at the boy. He immediately falls silent, hunches over, and continues peeling the radish more tensely. The other boy, having overheard their recent exchange, also tenses up, peeling the vegetable with even greater caution. Yanlin momentarily distracts herself, ruffling her red braid. Suddenly, she realizes she hasn’t asked the names of these little pests. It feels somewhat embarrassing, but they had unexpectedly and impudently surrounded her with an endless flow of childlike explosive energy, not giving her a chance to collect her thoughts. On the other hand, she can’t keep calling them "little pests" forever. Yanlin wavers in doubt: is it even worth it? “What are your names, rascals?” she finally decides to speak up. The blond boy grins cheekily, scratches his nose, and answers loudly: “Uzumaki Naruto, Mistress Witch!” The dark-haired boy, seemingly more reserved, is fully focused on the task given by Yanlin purely as a joke and a test of patience (she had said that if they didn’t want to be thrown out like kittens, they should keep busy): “Uchiha Sasuke.” Yanlin nods. She doesn’t introduce herself in return, instead reflecting on where she might have heard something similar before. A minute or two… Yanlin realizes, and a quiet “Oh my God…” escapes her lips unconsciously. In her personal space are the son of the Hokage and the second heir of the Uchiha clan. "I hope my tombstone will say I was a good person."

* * *

When there are six of them in her personal space, Yanlin disconnects from the world and retreats into the astral plane. Her eye twitches as usual, and a sharp retort is on her tongue. “There are rumors that a maiden lives here who can heal emotional wounds with her beauty,” the guy in front of her smiles disarmingly, his eyes sparkling, and he attractively tousles his hair with his hand. Yanlin looks him over: black hair, slightly curly, eyes just as dark, drawing one in like a deep abyss, simple but evidently high-quality clothes. And his eyelashes. His eyelashes make her momentarily feel a slight envy. A total Uchiha. "Either he’s trying to hit on me, or he’s calling me a courtesan," — Yanlin snickers with undisguised skepticism and decides to respond just in case: “Then you’ve come to the wrong place. For that kind of thing, you should go to the Yamanakas; after all, they are the best mind healers.” She adjusts the bowl of herbs and innocently flutters her eyelashes. “And if your emotional wounds are of a different kind, they’re best dealt with by the equally beautiful ladies from the red-light district. Need directions?” The guy, seemingly not expecting such a response, hesitates for a few seconds. Another guy standing nearby, apparently another Uchiha, smirks into his fist, imitating a cough, and quietly says: “Looks like you got served.” Yanlin doesn’t wait for a response, turns proudly, and heads into the house. She’s had enough of this chaos, these Uchihas, and the little Uzumaki. She’s exhausted. From inside the house, through the open window, she hears the guy awkwardly laughing, and for some reason, she remembers how he tousles his hair again. Unexpectedly, the younger Uchiha speaks up. “Brother, what’s a red-light district?”

* * *

“What are you doing here, Mr. Shinobi?” Yanlin looks at the young man sitting on her chair, in her house, with suspicion. She looks wary, a bit hostile, and definitely puzzled. She glances at the broom in the corner, wondering if she’ll have time to strike before her throat gets cut. The same Uchiha with curly hair seems oblivious to the tense atmosphere around him and gently pets the cat, who clearly doesn’t share the hostess’s thoughts and purrs contentedly. Yanlin looks at the pet as if it were the last one she’d expect a knife in the back from, and mutters disgruntledly, “Traitor…” “I heard from Sasuke about your wonderful and invigorating tea made by skilled hands. I couldn’t resist trying it,” Uchiha looks at her with a sly glint in his eyes, a mischievous smile on his lips. Definitely a demon, Yanlin thinks, an alluring tempter. “Will the Lady Witch grant me this honor?” “You broke into my house without my notice, sitting on my kitchen chair, acting as if you’re the boss here, and…” she abruptly approaches Uchiha, grabs the cat, holding it close, and almost shouts at the young man’s face: “You’re touching my Ururu! Just to drink tea?!” The cat meows discontentedly, prompting the girl to glare at it menacingly. Ururu, sensing the atmosphere, quiets down. Yanlin steps back abruptly, almost gasping from the overflowing irritation, puts the cat down, grabs the wooden broom, and swings: “Get out!” Uchiha was surprised. But he was quicker: before the girl could blink, he was at the other end of the room. With ease: standing casually, still smiling. Yanlin was slightly stunned: she had seen shinobi before, but such speed was new to her. “Hey, I actually came with good intentions!” Uchiha raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, but didn’t look worried; it seemed he was amused by the whole thing. “I didn’t expect such hospitality from the renowned Lady Witch.” Yanlin twitched an eye, her hand gripping the broom tighter. “I…” she stumbled over her words due to the boiling rage in her chest. “I’ll show you all my hospitality!” And she lunged directly at the shinobi. Yanlin didn’t think about the fact that he was stronger, and that it would be easy for him to decapitate her before she even realized. All she thought about was how to hit the impudent intruder as painfully as possible. But Uchiha succeeded again, evading her reach. This only further irritated her. She pointed an accusing finger at him: “Stand still, you scoundrel!” “And I’m the scoundrel! Who is threatening me with a broom here?” he seemed genuinely outraged. Seeing the fiery look in Yanlin’s eyes, it even seemed that the emerald color became a couple of shades brighter (or was it just the play of light?). It seemed that showing up like this wasn’t the best idea. Uchiha could read the atmosphere and realized it was better to end their incredibly pleasant conversation: “It seems that tea with a charming lady isn’t meant for today. To my deepest regret, the Lady Witch is clearly not in the mood.” He, being a true shinobi, climbed onto the window frame with his feet and threw over his shoulder: “By the way, I’m Shisui,” he winked slyly, jumped down, and disappeared into a whirl of leaves, leaving Yanlin alone with buzzing thoughts. Only then did she notice the dango sticks left on the table. “I don’t get it, was he raised by mosquitoes, that he can’t see the door and exits through the window…”

* * *

“By the way, why is it Ururu?” Shisui turns his gaze to the cat washing itself in the corner, which occasionally looked at their modest company with interest. “M-m…” Yanlin mumbles indistinctly, finishing a mouthwatering piece of fresh plum pie, and after a moment answers: “He purrs amusingly when you pet him.” “I see…” An awkward silence ensues. “And why do they call you a witch, if it’s not a secret?” Yanlin ponders for a few seconds: she doesn’t really understand either. A casually thrown phrase, a series of coincidences — and now she’s a witch of the fourth generation. It’s one of those situations where a joke got out of hand and became a reality. “I love to fly on a broom during a full moon.” Shisui glances at the broom in the corner and nods confidently for some reason. In the background, Naruto and Sasuke can be heard playing in the yard, the wall clock ticks unusually loudly, and a fly buzzes annoyingly having flown in through the window. Yanlin swats it away from the last pieces of pie and finds herself wondering when she started to tolerate this impudent Uchiha’s presence so calmly. So he brought a pie, though deliciously mad, and that’s it? Has he smoothly transitioned from an enemy to someone she can calmly endure? “Uchiha, you know what?..” she says wearily. After the warm tea and dessert, she feels like dozing off. “Get out?” he guessed immediately. And smiled so understandingly that it irritated her even more. “Exactly.”

* * *

Shisui thoughtfully strokes the smooth fur of Ururu while the cat submits to the affection and purrs contentedly, then shifts his gaze to Yanlin, who is busy sorting herbs, and unexpectedly says: “Lady, are you really a witch?” The girl looks at him with a silent question in her eyes. Uchiha hurries to explain, continuing: “Well, your cat is white, not very witch-like,” he pets the completely relaxed Ururu’s belly as if to prove his point. “Or has he gone gray from living with you?” Silence follows. Yanlin is quiet, deep in thought. Shisui waits. The next moment, a well-sharpened knife flies at the laughing Uchiha.

* * *

Shisui curiously snoops around the shelves with various spices and tinctures, like a cat plotting mischief. He opens one of the bottles, sniffs it, and immediately sneezes loudly. Yanlin gives him a smack: “Idiot, what if it were poison?” Uchiha grins sheepishly: “Well, you’d have healed me, wouldn’t you?” And Yanlin looks at his sly, expectant gaze and for a moment it feels like she’s about to drown in that black abyss. It’s so swift and overwhelming that she almost won’t be able to get out. For the first time, she feels scared: something oddly pleasant twinges in her heart. And when did they switch to “you”?

* * *

Yanlin thinks she’s in too deep. Either up to her ears or completely immersed. She thinks this when she reacts too sharply to Uchiha’s jabs or when she worries that he hasn’t shown up in a while. She also thinks this when she blushes due to accidental touches or when Shisui is dangerously close to her. Yanlin shakes her head, trying to push away the troubling thoughts. She couldn’t possibly… And in… Suddenly, she feels a small breeze behind her, darkness before her eyes. The touch of foreign hands on her face leaves her stunned: they block her view. She feels warm breath on her sensitive ear and hears the painfully familiar voice: “Guess who.” Her heart flutters so much it feels like it’s going to break her ribs. Painful and exciting all at once. She freezes like a rabbit before a predator, shivers, and Uchiha senses something is wrong. He steps back and apologizes: “I didn’t mean to scare you, my fault.” Yanlin sees the genuine lack of mischief in his eyes and believes him, but can’t help but respond with a sharp retort: “Then you should have come in like a normal civilized person.” “Fine, fine, this wretched scoundrel admits his fault and humbly asks for mercy, oh, Lady Witch!” Shisui almost bows, his expression becoming so pitiful that Yanlin can’t stand the tension on her fragile heart. Mentally, she compares him to the cat: her Ururu looks exactly like that after mischief. For some reason, it’s endearing. How… sweet? “And stop calling me Lady Witch. I have a name, you know,” she flushes. Uchiha laughs. “As you wish, Lady,” and shamelessly manages to disappear in a whirl of leaves before a wet rag from the even more embarrassed Yanlin hit him. And only after does the girl notice the box of pastries left on the table. Her favorites. Plum. And a small note with a wish for a good evening and a strangely smiling face drawn next to it. Yanlin is ready to howl in desperation.

* * *

Uchiha leans over the table, propping himself up with his hands, and hovers dangerously close to Yanlin. He looks so attentively and seriously that she feels the room suddenly become too warm. “Prickly,” he finally says with a slight smile. He smooths out the little wrinkle that has appeared between Yanlin’s brows. “Prickly like a hedgehog. And you snarl just like one.” In response, Yanlin snorts displeasedly. She turns away, squinting and trying to push his face away with her hand. “Respect my personal space, have some decency.” Shisui yielded and returned to his place. But the faint smile and attentive gaze did not disappear. Yanlin felt uneasy but stubbornly maintained eye contact, which immediately elicited a response: Shisui's smile widened. The room was filled with silence. Her mind was overwhelmed with conflicting thoughts, beginning to get tangled in the flow. "He has a sweet smile. I want to hit him with the broom. I want to touch his hair. He annoys me." Yanlin looked at him and unconsciously tried to take in everything: his funny sticking-up hair, thick eyelashes, and small wrinkles near his eyes. Her gaze lingered on his thin lips. Shisui noticed, saw everything, but did nothing, giving her time. His smile became slightly self-satisfied. “Lady, you’re looking so intently that I’m actually blushing,” he said, dramatically fanning himself with his hand. “See, I'm all flustered.” Yanlin suddenly became serious, as if something short-circuited for a moment. She looked piercingly, almost threateningly. “Get out.” Then she calmly took a sip of her now-cold tea. Shisui seemed to experience a slight shiver for the first time.

* * *

“I'm going to hit you with this broom.” “A strong statement, but I still suggest we resolve this diplomatically,” Shisui said, raising his hands in his usual gesture of surrender. The young man looked slightly disheveled, with dark circles under his eyes, red-rimmed eyes—clear signs of serious sleep deprivation and strain—and barely noticeable scratches all over his body. He smiled wryly, and the smile looked awkward, exhausted. Yanlin glared at him angrily. The hand holding the broom's handle trembled slightly from the force she put into it. She was overwhelmed with emotions. Joy. Anxiety. Relief. Anger. Hurt. All of it churned within her as a single lump, taking her breath away, and she felt her eyes suspiciously well up. “Do you think you can just disappear without a word for almost three months and then show up as if nothing happened?” she nearly yelled, swinging the broom. She wanted to hit him. Show that she had been hurt, upset, in pain. Shisui habitually dodged, trying to call out to her. She was out of breath and swung again. At some point, she was disarmed. Shisui pinned her against the wall. Yanlin tried to fight back with her bare hands. Shisui restrained them from above. Yanlin began to ramble, curse, vent her accumulated feelings through words. And then everything froze. Yanlin felt the touch of his lips on hers and stopped breathing. It felt like her heart skipped more than one beat. Shisui gently pulled away, and for the first time, she saw him genuinely embarrassed: a flushed face and red-tipped ears, an unreadable expression. He looked so surprised, as if he himself hadn't expected such a thing. “You...” Yanlin stumbled over her words, trying to find the right ones. Her face was burning so much it felt like it would catch fire. “I couldn’t think of a better way to calm you down… like this,” he explained, his eyes wandering uncertainly over her face. “And I’ll understand if you want to hit me again; this time, I won’t resist.” Shisui finally released her hands, as if genuinely expecting at least a slap. But Yanlin simply cupped his face in her hands and drew him closer. He looked mesmerized, unable to take his eyes off her. “You’re...” Shisui interrupted her, saying: “Idiot.” “Exactly.” This time, she took the initiative, pulling Shisui into a soft, desperate kiss.