Chapter 40

Mikoto let out a frustrated sigh, stepping back before he could tease her any further. "You..."

She hesitated, as if searching for the right words, but ultimately shook her head.

Without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving Souta standing there with a smirk still playing on his lips.

He watched her retreating form, the moonlight casting a soft glow over her as she disappeared into the night.

He knew she was flustered, maybe even frustrated with herself.

Souta exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck before making his way home.

By the time he reached his house, the lights inside were dim, but he could tell someone was still awake. He pushed the door open, stepping inside, only to be greeted by a familiar presence.

"Welcome home," Pakura said softly as she stood at the entrance, arms crossed. Her gaze flickered over him, her sharp senses immediately picking up on something off.

Souta met her eyes, noticing the way she studied him. He stepped forward, closing the door behind him. "You're still up?"

Pakura didn't answer immediately. Instead, she inhaled subtly, as if picking up something unfamiliar.

Her expression shifted slightly, but she remained silent.

"You smell different," she finally said, her voice neutral but laced with curiosity. "Were you with someone?"

Souta raised a brow at the sudden question. "And if I was?"

Pakura's gaze lingered on him for a brief moment before she turned away, walking toward the table. She poured herself a cup of tea, her movements slow and deliberate.

She didn't ask who.

Souta smirked, watching her sip her tea. "What, worried about me?"

Pakura let out a short breath, barely a scoff. "Hardly. Just didn't take you for the type to get around."

Souta chuckled, stepping past her toward the kitchen. "You make it sound worse than it is."

She didn't respond right away. Instead, she took another sip, her fingers tightening slightly around the cup.

"…I see," she murmured, setting it down.

Souta leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "That's all?"

Pakura glanced at him, her green eyes unreadable. "What else is there to say?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if expecting more, but she simply picked up her cup again, dismissing the conversation entirely.

Souta smirked but didn't push further. Instead, he stretched. "Well, I'm heading to bed. You should too."

Pakura didn't respond.

But as he walked away, he could still feel her gaze on him.

 ...

"So then, after all that, I ended up practicing that seal all day!" Kushina rambled, her voice animated as she walked beside Mikoto.

Mikoto listened quietly, nodding here and there, letting Kushina do most of the talking.

But then, Kushina suddenly paused mid-step, her nose twitching slightly. She leaned closer to Mikoto, sniffing subtly before narrowing her eyes.

"Hmm… this smell…"

Mikoto tensed ever so slightly.

Kushina's gaze sharpened. "Mikoto, why do you smell like Souta?"

Mikoto blinked, then quickly waved a hand, forcing a light chuckle. "What are you talking about, Kushina? I—I just bought the same perfume he uses. Maybe that's why."

Kushina's eyes narrowed further, skeptical. "Really? You bought the same one he uses? Since when do you care about that kinda thing?"

Mikoto kept her expression calm, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I just thought it smelled nice, that's all."

Kushina didn't look entirely convinced, but after a moment, she just scoffed and crossed her arms. "Tch. Whatever."

And just like that, her energy bounced back. "Anyway! Where should we eat? I'm starving!"

Mikoto exhaled quietly, relieved as she nodded. "Let's just find a place."

They continued down the street, Kushina rambling again, her suspicion seemingly forgotten—for now.

 ...

In the dimly lit underground chamber, Danzo Shimura sat behind his desk, the flickering glow of a lone candle casting shifting shadows along the stone walls. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the rustling of parchment as he turned the page of the report in his hands. His lone visible eye moved steadily over the words, absorbing each detail without a flicker of emotion.

Subject: Souta

Civilian background, operates a tea shop.

Unusual connections: Close with Mikoto Uchiha and Kushina Uzumaki.

No known clan or allegiance.

Combat potential unknown but suspected to be above average.

Influence over key kunoichi increasing.

Danzo set the papers down, steepling his fingers as he processed the information.

This is problematic.

Mikoto Uchiha—the wife of Fugaku, yet being friend with this man?

Kushina Uzumaki—the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki, showing signs of attachment as well?

It was no coincidence. No ordinary tea seller should have such reach.

Hiruzen would dismiss this as harmless. He always did. The old fool would claim it was nothing more than friendship. But Danzo didn't believe in coincidences—he believed in control.

And an unknown variable like Souta was a threat.

If left unchecked, who knew how far his influence could spread? Would he sway Mikoto against the Uchiha? Could he manipulate Kushina?

Danzo wasn't about to let that happen.

His lone eye shifted toward the masked operative kneeling before him, waiting in silent obedience.

"Eliminate him," Danzo ordered, his voice as cold as the stone walls around them.

The agent didn't hesitate. "What of Hiruzen?"

Danzo exhaled slowly. "I will handle him. By the time he realizes what has happened, it will already be done."

No further words were needed. The operative nodded once before vanishing into the darkness, becoming one with the shadows.

Danzo remained still for a moment, watching the candle's flame waver. Then, with a single breath, he snuffed it out.

The chamber was swallowed in darkness.

 ...

That Night

The streets were quiet, the cool night air carrying only the distant murmur of the village settling into slumber. Souta walked at an unhurried pace, hands in his pockets, his mind drifting.

But something felt… off.

A faint prickle at the back of his neck. A shift in the air, subtle but undeniable.

His steps slowed.

He glanced around—nothing. No movement, no figures in the shadows, no immediate threat.

Maybe he was just overthinking.

With a quiet exhale, he dismissed the feeling and continued toward his house. It wasn't far now. A short walk, a turn down the street, and there it was—the familiar wooden door waiting for him.

He reached out, fingers brushing the handle, before easing it open.

The second he stepped inside, he froze.

The metallic scent of blood filled the air.

His eyes flicked downward—dark streaks pooled across the floor, glistening under the dim light.

And then, standing against the far wall, silent and unmoving, was Pakura.

Her arms were crossed, her expression unreadable. But there was something in her stance—calm, controlled, yet undeniably tense.

Her eyes met his.

Souta's gaze flickered back to the blood. His voice came quiet, steady.

"…What happened?"

Pakura exhaled, shifting her weight slightly. Then, after a pause—

"I dont know they were her for you."

A flicker of something cold passed through him.

Souta looked around again, slower this time, taking in the scene. The blood was fresh. But there was no body.

Which meant—

His eyes returned to Pakura.

She lifted her chin slightly. "I handled it."

Souta was silent for a moment before the corner of his lips twitched.

"…I see."

Pakura just held his gaze, unblinking.