Uchiha Haruki in One Piece

[~ 1700 Words]

~ A few days before the Uchiha Massacre.

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Location: Morning outside Kurenai's home.

The early Konoha morning was cool and calm, the sun still shy behind soft clouds. Dew shimmered along garden fences and tiled roofs. Haruki strolled through the quiet district, hands tucked in his cloak pockets, carrying two warm takeout cups of coffee from a small shop he liked near the Academy.

He stopped in front of Kurenai's door and knocked lightly with his knuckles.

A moment later, it creaked open—Kurenai in a loose robe over her shinobi shirt, hair tied loosely, blinking the last of sleep from her eyes.

"Haruki?" she murmured, clearly not expecting visitors yet.

He held up the coffee cups with a grin.

"Peace offering for skipping last night's actual coffee."

Her lips quirked upward. "You didn't have to."

"I know. But it gave me an excuse to see if you were still alive." He tilted his head. "You are, right? Because if not, this is a very awkward delivery."

She smiled wider, rubbing her arm as she stepped aside.

"Come in before the neighbors think you're here for something scandalous."

"Now that you said it out loud, it does sound scandalous," he said as he stepped in.

The interior still held that lavender-scented warmth from the night before. She had folded her bedding and wiped down the table, but the faint heat of her recent presence still lingered. Haruki passed her one of the cups as they sat down again by the window, where the sun was just starting to peek in.

Kurenai inhaled deeply, savoring the coffee's aroma.

"Mm. Strong roast. You are learning my tastes."

"It's a dangerous skill, I know. I might accidentally become the perfect man."

She gave him a look over the rim of her cup, amused.

"Cocky this early in the morning?"

"Confidence burns brighter than Fire Style."

She laughed softly, brushing her bangs from her face. They sat in a brief companionable silence, sipping the hot brew, watching the sleepy village begin its day. Then, without ceremony, Haruki set his cup down and turned to her.

"Hey… something I've been wondering."

Kurenai glanced at him, sensing a shift in tone.

"I heard, you know… people talking. That you were dating Asuma Sarutobi for a while. But now no one mentions it. Did something happen?"

At the name, her features changed. Her smile faded slightly—not bitter, not angry, just quiet. Her eyes dropped for a moment, and she exhaled through her nose.

"Yes. We were… seeing each other."

"It wasn't really public, but everyone close enough knew."

"Then one day, he said he needed time. That he didn't know where he was going or what he really wanted. So he left. Went on some extended mission or journey. I honestly stopped keeping track."

Haruki's brow furrowed.

"He left you hanging like that?"

"And people call me emotionally unavailable."

Kurenai let out a short laugh.

"You're too young to be this jaded."

Haruki shook his head, clearly unconvinced.

"No, really. He walks out on you with some spiritual excuse, and we're all just supposed to say 'Oh, Asuma, what a deep soul'? Sounds more like running away to me."

Kurenai bit back a smile, swirling her coffee.

"Don't be too harsh. He had his own demons."

"Then he should've stayed and faced them—with you."

The fire in Haruki's voice caught her off guard. Her eyes softened, touched by the unexpected indignation.

"You're really that upset on my behalf?" she asked, voice amused but a bit touched.

"Of course," Haruki replied without skipping a beat. "I may not have known you long, but you deserve someone who sees your worth and doesn't need to go 'find himself' to realize it."

Kurenai sipped her coffee again, hiding a small blush behind the rim.

"You talk like someone who's been reading romance novels."

"Nope. Just a keen observer of idiocy," Haruki said, leaning back with a smirk. "And Asuma wins first prize."

She chuckled again, this time warmly, brushing her bangs back again as she looked at him.

"Well… you're certainly not boring."

"I'm also free this weekend," he added slyly. "In case you want someone present and with well-grounded emotional stability to bring you coffee again."

She gave him a playful squint.

"So, you're auditioning now?"

"Just reminding you there are better options. Taller, sharper, cooks miso ramen... good with siblings."

"And with an ego the size of the Hokage Monument."

"Hey, the monument earned its size."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered longer this time. There was a glimmer of something softer now—flattered, maybe even curious.

"You really are full of surprises, Haruki."

"I plan to keep surprising you," he said, raising his cup for a toast. "To better mornings."

"To better company," she returned, clinking her cup against his.

They drank quietly again, the earlier shadows of past relationships fading gently behind the golden light now streaming through the window.

Kurenai leaned back, coffee cup warm in her hand, eyes half-lidded as she gazed at the breeze stirring the curtains. A faint line had formed between her brows, as though she were debating something internally.

Haruki noticed. He didn't interrupt. He simply sipped quietly and let the silence settle between them like a soft blanket.

After a long pause, she spoke—voice low, eyes not on him.

"You know… I haven't always been fond of the Uchiha."

That caught Haruki off guard. But he didn't speak—he only glanced at her, waiting.

Kurenai's gaze was far away now.

"My father… he died during the Nine Tails' attack on the village. I was still a kid. But I remember the chaos, the flames, the screaming."

"After that… people began whispering that the Uchiha were behind it. The Sharingan was seen in the Nine-Tailed beast's eyes, they said. It didn't matter if it was true. The rumors stuck. And as a child, that fear sticks too."

Haruki's hand gripped his cup tighter. His jaw tensed—but he remained still.

She looked down.

"For a long time, I distrusted all of you. Even avoided talking to your clan. But then…"

Her lips curled slightly in bittersweet memory.

"Then I met Shisui."

Haruki blinked. That name struck somewhere quiet inside him.

"He was kind. Charismatic. A little awkward, in a sweet way. And he didn't act like the others. He didn't act like I expected an Uchiha to act. It made me ashamed, honestly. That I'd painted your whole clan with a single brush."

"But then he died," she continued, softer now. "Just like that. And they said Itachi killed him. Another Uchiha killing their own."

Haruki's gaze dropped to the floor. The name Shisui echoed in his mind—not a close companion, but someone spoken of with reverence. Someone who vanished too quickly. And the story that followed—that Itachi had been responsible—was the kind of thing he had filed away, cold and detached. Until now.

He hesitated.

Then, slowly, he spoke.

"I've been wondering about that too… about Shisui's death. I never knew him personally, but I heard whispers. Whispers that it didn't make sense. That Itachi might have been forced into something."

Kurenai turned to him, brows knitting.

"Forced?"

Haruki nodded once, eyes distant.

"Itachi was brilliant. Calculating. But he also had something most of our clan didn't—compassion."

"Shisui was one of the few who genuinely cared for peace between the Uchiha and the rest of the village. If he died by Itachi's hand… then either something happened we never saw, or…"

He trailed off, unsure how much to voice.

Kurenai's voice was quieter now. Measured.

"You think Itachi was compromised?"

Haruki met her eyes.

"I think… he might have been acting under pressure. Maybe even to stop something worse. But if that's true, it means the picture we've been fed all this time is a lie. One designed to protect someone, or something."

Kurenai exhaled slowly.

"It would explain why the Uchiha were being watched so heavily after the attack. I was a Genin then, but even I heard the rumors. ANBU eyes on your compound. Orders to keep distance. Eyes filled with suspicion."

"And it didn't help that people saw the Sharingan in the Nine Tails' eyes. That was the clincher."

Haruki's hand clenched.

"But no one ever proved it was our Sharingan."

She nodded.

"Proving you didn't do something is much harder than proving you did. Especially when fear is already doing the talking."

Her words hung in the air like embers.

They sat like that for a while—quiet, thoughtful, carrying the weight of truths half-buried and rumors long calcified into belief.

Finally, Haruki broke the silence with a low voice.

"So… what do you think now? About the clan. About me."

Kurenai's lips pressed into a thoughtful line. Then she looked at him, her gaze firm but kind.

"You're not them. Just like Shisui wasn't. I don't judge people by their surname anymore. That mistake nearly cost me a friend once."

A brief pause.

"Besides…" she added with a small, teasing smile, "you cook, you bring coffee, and you care about your sister's old teacher. That's a solid résumé in my books."

Haruki chuckled, tension ebbing from his shoulders.

"Glad to know I'm climbing the ladder of approval."

Kurenai smirked.

"You still have some floors to go."

"I'm not afraid of heights."

They laughed gently together, but the moment was layered now. Not just flirtation, but a shared burden—of grief, of history, and of beginning to trust beyond names and shadows.

The past lingered, but in that warm, quiet room, so did the start of something new.

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