Chapter Text
“Of all the things you could have done, why did you have to kill yourself?”
The question is full of bitterness. Sagi looks up from the paperwork on her desk with surprise. In all of her lives, Shisui’s never taken such a tone with her before.
“You don’t know how bad things were after you left,” he goes on. The edge in his voice is only barely contained. “You made a serious mess, Sagi.”
“Did I?” Sagi regards him with fascination. Shisui’s response is a cross between disbelief and disgust.
“Did you not even consider—? You are seriously fucked up, Sagi.”
“Of that there can be no doubt,” she agrees dryly. “But tell me more. You clearly have something to say about it.”
“I—” Shisui starts, and then stops, and then starts again. “I do have something to say to you. You—you… I don’t know if there’s anyone alive more selfish than you.”
Well, she thinks, Orochimaru has been dead for a while now. It's a distinct possibility.
She doesn’t say this. Instead she asks, “What makes you say that?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Shisui is aghast. “Haven't you considered what the fallout would be? You were the daughter of the head. Didn't you think about all the allegations that would arise, or the pressure we would be under? Political enemies gained significant leverage over the Uchiha because of what you did. People had to take responsibility for your actions.”
Sagi has a feeling that she had, in fact, spent substantial time considering this. She also thinks she’d realized it couldn't be helped. It wouldn't matter in the long run, anyway… if it hadn't been her, it would have been—has always been—something else, because the clan was slated to die no matter what. She does recall feeling bad that others would suffer on her account, though.
Sagi says none of this either. Instead she asks, “If I told you I was just making things as they were always meant to be, what would you say?”
Shisui looks at her with undisguised contempt. “What does that even mean, Sagi?”
It’s not often that Shisui makes such hateful faces, and it feels vaguely terrible to be on the receiving end of it. But he is well within his rights to be upset with her. Knowing the consequences and doing it anyway—that is, indeed, the very definition of a selfish act. Sometimes she can't believe she did it, either.
“It means Sagi should have never been in the picture to begin with,” she sighs. “Fugaku and Mikoto never had a daughter. Itachi wasn’t supposed to have a twin. Sasuke was his brother and that was all…” She drums her fingers on the table. “That's what it means. No one was ever meant to make choices about me. I shouldn’t have existed from the start.”
There's a long pause after she speaks. For a brief moment, Sagi can see that her clansman is concerned. Not unexpected; shinobi or not, Shisui’s personality has always been more empathetic than condescending, and his default state is usually something approximating “automatic older brother.” But eventually he shakes his head and regards her with stern disapproval.
“That's ridiculous, Sagi. You had a family, you know? What did you think would happen if you were gone?”
“That nothing would change,” she answers easily. Shisui, instantly infuriated, opens his mouth again. “No, really, Shisui. I really did think that.”
“He—he was your brother. You were twins. Didn't you think it would screw him up if the person who's been with him from birth kills herself right in front of him?”
“I died in front of him all the time,” is her dispassionate reply. “And often enough, he was the one doing the killing. It was nothing that hasn’t happened before.”
“That’s—that's not the point. None of that happened for him. Sagi, I know you've been through a lot, but it was seriously wrong of you to treat Itachi like he was guilty of things he's never done—”
His words are a sword in her heart. It's an endless, lifetime accusation. If she had tried just a bit harder—if she had endured just a bit longer—surely she would have met him, the innocent Itachi. If only she had persisted, wouldn't she have found it? The perfect world where her twin chooses differently.
But it’s not the first time she’s been struck by this particular blade. After all, she has spent immeasurable time in denial about it herself.
Sighing deeply, Sagi leans back in her chair and contemplates how she can explain the nature of time and choice to Shisui. Is there a way? Some method to express to him the past two centuries of her life with Itachi…
There isn't, she concludes, as she always does. There's no way to convey it—that there was never any winning for anyone. The gap is just too great.
It's an indelible fact that her Mangekyou has bought her her freedom. Without it, she would have remained as just another corpse on the Uchiha pyre. But it is equally true that she has paid a steep price for it. No matter how she surrounds herself with people—no matter if she makes a village and fills it with allies and plants herself in their center—she will always be, on this fundamental level, alone in her heart.
“I understand,” Sagi says, because she does. As she looks up into Shisui’s eye and sees again how much he resents her, how can she not? Still… she doesn't think she can bring herself to regret it. The fact he is standing here at all is proof that it was worth it. Even if she did pay the price, she has purchased more than just herself with it.
“Sagi. Hey, Sagi, get up.”
Sagi groans as she is taken by the shoulder and pulled onto her back. Shisui is kneeling over her, holding his son with one hand and shaking her awake with the other.
“Tamaki said to leave you because you needed the sleep, but it’s already dinnertime. Are you going to stay here all night?”
What? Blinking dazedly, Sagi looks around.
“Where’s Sasuke…?”
“He went back to his apartment after Rei puked on him. He said he was going to get a new shirt, but I’m pretty sure he's done for the day.”
“Oh…” Sagi says, and looks at Shisui again. His eyepatch is gone and he has a baby on his hip. A dream, then.
Shisui looks at her, too. Then his brow furrows. “Your Sharingan’s on.”
“Ah,” Sagi mumbles as she deactivates her bloodline limit. Then she sits up and swipes unshed tears from her eyes. A blanket falls into her lap; she wonders who put it over her. “Sorry. I didn't mean to stay this late.”
Shisui looks at her searchingly while she folds the blanket and puts it aside on the tatami. “Tamaki was right,” he tells her after a beat. “You look rough, Sagi. Really rough.”
“It’ll pass,” Sagi mutters as she draws her legs up to her chest. She puts her forehead on her knees and waits for the sudden spinning of her head to quell. “It always does…”
Several seconds go by in silence. For one fleeting, childish moment, Sagi wishes Shisui would slap her on the back and cheer her up like he always used to. But eventually he just stands, and she doesn't dwell. Like many other things, those days are long gone.
“Hakuro-sama,” a new voice calls some moments later, and when Sagi looks up she sees Tamaki crouching beside her. She holds out a bento tied in a cloth. “Here. Take it for dinner. Shisui said you could use it.”
Sagi stares for several unspeaking moments. Then she accepts it with a wistful smile. “Thanks. I sure do miss you, Tamaki… I should've married you instead.”
Tamaki giggles. “Although I'm flattered, I'll have to respectfully decline your feelings, Meikage-sama.”
“That's too bad. I need some kind of countermeasure to stop Shisui from knocking up my only spymaster,” Sagi complains as she hoists herself to her feet. “Oof. I can't believe you're pregnant again so quickly… Is he trying to repopulate the clan all on his own or something?”
“Maybe he’ll slow down if you take some of the pressure off of him,” Tamaki teases slyly. Sagi punches her in the arm—gently, of course.
“Do I look like I have the time for that right now? Shit, I can't believe I slept this long.” Sagi begins massaging her forehead. “There was work I meant to do this afternoon.”
Tamaki’s expression sobers a bit. “Days off are generally meant for rest, you know, Hakuro-sama.”
“Don't blame me. I’m just trying to spread things out so I can stop with the damn overtime. That's what's really killing me.”
Tamaki spends a long moment looking at Sagi like it’s true—like it really is killing her. Then she says, “Hakuro-sama… you know, I really am prepared to resign my post.”
Sagi is already sighing before she finishes. “Tamaki, do you remember when we talked about maternity leave?”
“But you said it yourself. I'm pregnant again so quickly. We’ve just reset the clock again.”
“You're not forbidden to have children as you want them. This is Hikari—it’s not like your old village.”
“Still…”
“I’d be a fool to dump an intel-nin like you. No one in the Light can do what you do,” Sagi tells her. “If anything, it’s my fault for not engineering enough redundancy around your position. It's only common sense that I pick up the slack in the meantime.”
“It’s not sustainable,” Tamaki answers quietly. “Everyone can see it, Meikage-sama.”
“It’s only temporary,” Sagi dismisses. “And anyway, Maruki’s about to finish his training. Things will be manageable when he takes over General Forces Intel. Should’ve had him do it from the start…”
“We were smaller back then. It didn't make sense to split things up. That's not on you.”
“Maybe so. But regardless, your job is yours so long as you still want it. Don't worry about it, Tama—it’s not good for the kids, you know?”
Sagi waves warmly as she leaves, but once she's out of earshot she slumps her shoulders and groans. The lake is on the other side of the city, and her whole body is aching after sleeping on the floor. Can she even make it back to the administrative compound? It's really too bad that she and Shisui don't get along in this life. He used to let her crash at his house all the time.
When Sagi wakes the next morning she feels as if a steel vice is wrapped around her head. Streaks of light spread across her vision when she opens her eyes, and she feels as if a dagger is twisting in her gut.
“Ohh,” she moans, viscerally afflicted. She hasn't felt this bad since Root tortured her to death. Shit, that had been a horrible loop.
Blindly, Sagi rises from her futon and stumbles forward a few steps. Then her knees give out and she slams onto the tatami. Shit, she thinks again. Maybe the overtime really is reaching a fatal threshold.
She spends several moments hazily attempting to recall who’s guarding the annex today. Then she groans, “Jiroubou.”
Some seconds later the door to the engawa slides open. “You called, Hakuro-sama—” the heavyset teen begins, and then freezes at the sight of the Meikage sprawled on the floor in her nightclothes. “Hakuro-sama!”
“Summon a medic,” she grits out through her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain. “Please.”
In less than ten minutes the whole administrative compound has been upended, panic-stricken by the Meikage’s collapse. Lady Hakuro, youthful as she is, hardly even catches colds, let alone takes seriously ill. It’s the first time since the village’s founding that such a thing has happened.
“We’ve ruled out any of the likely poisons,” the head medic eventually reports. “We'll do some last checks for the more exotic toxins, but… I fear this is the result of overwork, my lady.”
Overwork. She’s never died of that before. How novel, she thinks, and then asks for the bottom line.
“The bottom line… Though you are still young, if you continue in this state you may suffer a stroke, or possibly a heart attack. In the worst case, you may never work as a shinobi again—if you do not die outright.”
“I see.” Sagi pinches the bridge of her nose. If that happens, it'll be all for naught. “I understand. Let the Heads know I'll be incapacitated for the time being. They'll need to take over administration for now… Let’s reevaluate in a week’s time.”
There are, at least, more articulate contingencies for the absence of the Meikage than there are for the absence of Tamaki. It's not ideal, but she supposes this can be a new test of their young village’s infrastructure. Maruki’s first days are going to be hell, though. Sagi sighs regretfully and hopes Intel won't have turnover issues in the future.
With the aid of painkillers and iryou-ninjutsu, Sagi manages to pass out for a solid two hours after that. Then, when she wakes due to crippling stomach pain, Sasuke is sitting at her bedside. She immediately attempts to uncurl from fetal position—that is not a good look in front of one's little brother—but does not quite succeed.
“Neesan!” Sasuke springs forward.
“Agh—hey, Sasuke,” she greets weakly. “What are… what are you doing here? I thought you had a mission.”
“We delayed our departure until the afternoon. I have to go soon,” he explains.
“Ah… sorry to hold you up.”
“Neesan…” He doesn't bite his lip, but it's a near thing. “Neesan, you look really bad. What are you going to do?”
His gaze is anxious. Sensing fear, Sagi reaches out and pats his arm reassuringly. “It’ll pass. Don't be scared. Everything's fine.”
“You always say that,” Sasuke accuses sullenly. “And now look at you.”
“We’re slowing things down, little brother. Others are ready to take over. It'll be okay.”
“And what about the next time something happens in the village?” her brother demands. “When another hole opens up, you'll do this all over again, and you'll say it’s just expected because it's your job to take care of the village. But who's going to take care of you?”
Sagi immediately melts under his concern. “Oh, Sasuke.”
“Neesan!” Sasuke catches his sister by the shoulders when she sits up and sways to the side. “Neesan, lie back down—”
“Wait,” she mumbles, winded. Then, after catching her breath, she shifts so she can put a hand on the back of his head. Sasuke stills.
“I'm sorry, Sasuke,” she exhales as she pulls their foreheads together. “I'll be more careful. You shouldn't have to spend your time worrying about me.”
“If I don't, no one will,” Sasuke mumbles as he wraps her in a hug. He’s big enough now that his arms reach all the way around.
“You're right. I need to take better care. Thank you for coming to see me.”