Chapter 38

He chuckled. "Probably. But only for you."

Mikoto let out a slow breath, shaking her head. "That's not how this works, Souta. The Uchiha aren't just some street thugs you can intimidate. If they find out about us, it won't just be a scolding or some political pressure." Her voice lowered. "They'll want you gone."

Souta hummed, his fingers tracing along her jaw. "Then I'll remind them that I exist outside their rules." His golden eye pulsed for a moment, and the space around them seemed to thrum with unseen energy.

Mikoto swallowed, staring into that gleaming iris. It was different from the Sharingan—not just in appearance but in feel. The Sharingan was predatory, analytical, sharpened by generations of warfare. But this? This was something else. Something she couldn't even begin to define.

"You talk big," she muttered, more to distract herself than to argue.

Souta grinned. "I am big."

She smacked his chest, and he laughed, catching her wrist before she could pull away. "I'm serious," he murmured, voice dropping to something softer.

"I don't care if the Uchiha glare at us, or even threaten us. Let them try. Let them think they have control." His grip on her wrist tightened slightly—not painfully, but firm enough to make her feel the certainty in his words.

"If they want a fight, I'll give them one."

Mikoto sighed, pressing her forehead against his chest. "You're such a pain."

"And you love me for it."

She huffed. "I never said that."

He smirked, resting his chin atop her head. "Yet."

Mikoto stayed quiet for a moment, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breathing. The heat of his body against hers. The steady, unshaken presence that he carried—like the entire world could burn, and he would still be standing, waiting for her.

"...I should hate you," she murmured.

Souta chuckled, threading his fingers through her hair. "But you don't."

Mikoto closed her eyes. "No. I don't."

Silence stretched between them, comfortable yet heavy. The wind rustled the leaves above, carrying the scent of the river nearby. Somewhere in the distance, the faint sounds of the village hummed like an ever-present reminder of reality.

But here, in this quiet space, reality didn't matter.

Mikoto pulled back just enough to meet his gaze again. "You really think we can do this? That we can go against everything—against the clan, against the village, against all of it?"

Souta brushed his thumb over her lower lip, his golden eye gleaming. "Mikoto," he whispered, leaning in, so close their breaths mingled, "if the world wants to stand against us, let it."

She shivered at the way he said it—not as a challenge, not as arrogance, but as a simple, undeniable truth.

"...You're really not afraid of anything, are you?" she murmured.

He smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm only afraid of losing you."

Mikoto let out a shaky breath, her fingers curling into his shirt. "...Then don't."

His grip around her waist tightened. "Never."

And just like that, she kissed him again. This time, there was no hesitation. No guilt. No second-guessing.

Because in this moment, nothing else mattered.

Mikoto's gaze remained fixed on his golden eye, her fingers tracing lightly along his temple. There was something unsettling about it—not in a way that frightened her, but in a way that made her realize just how little she knew about him.

"Show me," she murmured.

Souta tilted his head. "You sure?"

She gave him a dry look. "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't."

He chuckled. "Alright, but don't blame me if you can't sleep tonight."

Mikoto crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Just get on with it."

Souta exhaled, his golden iris pulsing with an eerie glow. The air around them thickened, and suddenly, the world shifted.

Mikoto's breath hitched. The trees around them flickered, their colors bleeding into something unnatural. Her body tensed, every Uchiha instinct screaming at her that something was wrong.

"What—?"

Before she could finish, her knees buckled. Her chakra felt sluggish, heavy, as if something was siphoning it away. She clenched her fists, trying to push against the sensation, but it was like grasping at mist.

Souta caught her before she could fall. "Relax," he murmured, his voice steady. "You're fine."

Mikoto looked up at him, breathing hard. "You call this fine?"

He smirked. "I just showed you a glimpse."

She swallowed, her mind racing. "What was that? Genjutsu?"

"Kōtengan," he said simply. "Imperial Eye of Subjugation."

Mikoto's fingers curled against his shirt. "Subjugation?"

Souta held her gaze. "It suppresses what makes a shinobi a shinobi. Kekkei Genkai, chakra reserves, even their ability to wield ninjutsu. Given time, it can erase bloodlines altogether."

Mikoto's breath caught. "That's... impossible."

He shrugged. "Most things are, until they aren't."

She pulled away slightly, studying his expression. He was calm, too calm, as if wielding such power was just another part of his existence.

"And it awakened because of me?" she asked, voice quieter now.

Souta smiled. "Seems that way."

Mikoto bit her lip, forcing herself to process everything. An ability that could erase bloodlines... If the clan found out about this, about him not only clan but whole world would be after him...

She looked up at him, expression unreadable. "You said it can suppress and erase Kekkei Genkai. Can you control it?"

His golden eye dimmed slightly as he hummed in thought. "To an extent."

Mikoto hesitated before asking the next question. "And if you couldn't? If it erased mine?"

Souta's gaze darkened. "I wouldn't let that happen."

She didn't know whether to be relieved or even more concerned. "What else can it do?"

He hesitated for the first time. "There's something else... but I don't fully understand it yet."

Mikoto raised a brow. "Souta."