He didn't like being fussed over, but exhaustion and tension let him tolerate being ushered towards a suite off the tea-room, full of scraping and bowing. When the steam hit his skin, an image flashed in his head of himself, his father and brother--he couldn't have been more than three--Itachi scrubbing Sasuke's hair into fluffy points while their father soaked in hot water.

His chest panged.

He glanced over his shoulder at Tatra. "Thank you for your hospitality."