Chapter 7

The streets of Konoha were wrapped in a dense twilight. Only a few lanterns lit the alleys, casting elongated shadows that faded into the walls. The village, usually bustling during the day, now felt like an empty shell. Just a few staggering civilians and drunken shinobi emerged from the night taverns, their laughter muffled by the cool breeze.

In a corner, a boy stood motionless, leaning against a wall. His small, discreet figure was nearly invisible. He wasn't doing anything in particular—just waiting. From his spot, he watched the movements on the rooftops. Several ninjas patrolled, gliding like shadows. Some paused briefly to look at him, but soon moved on. They already knew him. They'd seen him there before. Over time, curiosity had faded into indifference.

Minutes stretched on in silence. The boy showed no sign of impatience. He knew she would come.And then, he saw her.

A small but steady figure appeared at the end of the street. Her steps were confident but cautious, as if every movement was carefully calculated. Hitoshi said nothing. He simply pushed off the wall and began to follow her.

From the rooftops, the watchful eyes of the shinobi never left them. The presence of the figure hidden under rags was still a cause for concern. But seeing the boy at her side, their attention waned. If there had been any real danger, they would've known by now.

The two silhouettes moved through the silent streets, stepping over puddles and avoiding well-lit areas. No words were exchanged. Only the crunch of gravel under their feet and the distant howl of the wind filled the air. Soon, the houses were left behind. The darkness of the forest enveloped them as they crossed the village's border.

In a small clearing, where the trees barely let moonlight trickle through, the girl stopped. Her voice—childish yet firm—broke the silence.

"They were more persistent tonight. They followed us longer."

The boy nodded, unsurprised."They know us now. But as long as I show my true form, they won't act. They'll just wonder who's hiding under the rags."

With a swift motion, the girl began to peel off the layers of cloth hiding her figure. Beneath the tattered clothing, she revealed a small, slender body. Her face, now visible, wore a slight pout of annoyance.

"I have to do this so I don't need a transformation jutsu. I'd rather wear this than keep a constant chakra flow. If I did, they'd notice immediately."

Hitoshi looked at her with a calm smile. He understood her reasoning well, though he still found it amusing to see her wrapped in so many layers.

"What does it matter? We're here. That's what counts."

The girl held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. Without another word, they set their belongings aside. The forest's cool air surrounded them, but in this hidden little corner of the world, there were no patrols, no prying eyes. Only them.

A silver flash broke the stillness. A kunai cut through the air, forcing Hitoshi to leap back. His smile widened.

"Looks like someone's got energy tonight."

Mikoto revealed a collection of ninja tools in her hands, her expression resolute.

"I need to keep my winning streak. Four to zero. Sounds pretty good to me."

The confident grin on her face left no room for doubt."That's going to change—don't worry."Without further warning, she threw another kunai straight at Hitoshi. He reacted instantly, throwing his own. The impact deflected both weapons, but Mikoto's continued its course, threatening to strike the boy's face. 

"Hitoshi-san, you know that facing me with ninja tools will always end in your defeat. My skill with them is unmatched, and when I awaken my Sharingan, it will be unrivaled." 

The girl's voice was cheerful, as if she were enjoying every second. Hitoshi didn't seem intimidated. 

"That's why I'm glad you haven't awakened it yet." 

His voice echoed from somewhere nearby, but his figure had vanished. 

"Did I just fall for a simple clone?" 

Mikoto's expression tensed. Her eyes scanned the forest—every shadow became a possible threat. 

"When you have your eyes, maybe I won't be able to use these strategies anymore, but for now, I can exploit that gap." 

Suddenly, a sharp impact rang out. Hitoshi appeared behind her, landing a precise kick. Mikoto grunted but reacted instantly, grabbing his leg tightly. 

"Strength can solve things, but your lack of precision makes you vulnerable." 

With a fluid movement, she threw him to the ground. Hitoshi quickly got up, brushing off the dust. 

"Have I ever told you that you're heavy?" 

"Was that an insult?" 

The boy flexed his arms in an exaggerated pose. 

"I don't think so. Look at these muscles." 

Mikoto shook her head, amused. 

"A baby could have more muscle than you." 

The comment left him visibly deflated. 

"Our work isn't about giant muscles, but agility and flexibility." 

"Sure, sure." 

In the blink of an eye, Hitoshi vanished again. Mikoto sharpened her senses. 

"Your skill with the three basic jutsu is impressive. I almost didn't notice when you replaced yourself with that rock." 

She turned, dodging a direct strike. Grabbing Hitoshi's arm, she attempted a takedown but stopped when she felt a kunai pressing against her back. 

"Using the same trick twice isn't always a good idea." 

Mikoto clicked her tongue, and without hesitation, her body disappeared, leaving a log in her place. 

"You should've aimed elsewhere if you wanted to execute your opponent." 

"But you're not my enemy." 

Hitoshi's voice came from behind her. Before Mikoto could react, she felt a blow to her calf, destabilizing her stance. A knee strike landed against her face, knocking her onto her back. 

Holding her nose, Mikoto grumbled. 

"Saying one thing and doing another is a bit hypocritical." 

Hitoshi smiled. 

"There are… occasional slip-ups." 

Weeks ago, Mikoto had proposed these training sessions as a simple test. The first time, she returned home with a black eye and overflowing curiosity. Hitoshi had fought well, but not well enough. His defeat was clear, though not absolute. The ointment he offered her had spared her from a long interrogation by her father.

Since then, none of their confrontations had been easy. Mikoto trained with greater intensity, driven by something beyond mere rivalry. Perhaps it was the call of her Uchiha blood. The ambition for victory. And the reality was that, until now, she had always achieved it. 

However, each triumph came by such a narrow margin that the feeling of superiority never fully settled in. Hitoshi pushed her to the limit, forcing her to bring out her best. Her Uchiha pride was satisfied with every victory, but the certainty that, at any moment, she could be the one to fall first kept her on edge. 

For Hitoshi, on the other hand, every fight was invigorating. Mikoto had a wild creativity in battle, always finding unexpected ways to pressure her opponent. Even when he lost, his masculine pride remained intact. Every defeat ignited in him a voracious desire to improve. He knew she was better—for now. But the gap between them was closing. 

The stars and the moon accompanied them that night as a small campfire provided just enough warmth to make the distance between Mikoto and Hitoshi feel less vast. The crackling of the fire and the aroma of roasting fish filled the air. Mikoto, resting her head on Hitoshi's shoulder, broke the silence. 

"That knee strike still hurts." Her voice was a mix of complaint and jest. With a swift movement, she pinched the boy's side, making him flinch slightly. 

"You always demand that I don't hold back, and then you complain that a hit hurt." Hitoshi frowned, dissatisfied, while skillfully flipping the fish over the embers. 

"Just shut up." Mikoto sat up, reaching for a small jar of ointment she had brought. As she applied the balm to her bruises, the cool sensation soothed the burning on her skin. "You could totally sell this stuff and make good money. It's super effective." Her words carried the sincerity of someone unafraid to acknowledge another's talent. "My wounds disappear in hours, if not less. You genuinely have a knack for medical care. Wouldn't you like to learn some medical ninjutsu?" Her question was accompanied by a curious gaze, eager for a response. 

Hitoshi didn't take his eyes off the fire. "No matter when or where, medical ninjutsu is always important to know. Healing a wound incorrectly could mean losing a limb." His tone was serious but not cold. There was an undeniable truth in his words—one that only someone with his history could fully understand. 

"I heard that Nawaki-san's older sister is studying medical ninjutsu," Mikoto dropped the information casually, but the slight tension in Hitoshi's shoulders gave him away. He raised an eyebrow, unable to resist the sting of curiosity. 

"You talk to others?" 

The comment earned him a playful smack on the shoulder. 

"It was a joke, relax." Hitoshi rubbed the spot, though his smirk remained. "But tell me more—how did you find that out?" 

"From Nawaki, of course. Even though that Senju kid always tries to act like the strongest and bravest of all, sometimes he can't help but show how much he admires his sister. He always ends up bragging about how amazing she is." Mikoto smiled, the image of the little Senju chattering about his family still fresh in her memory. 

Hitoshi let out a soft chuckle. "Senju Nawaki, bragging about his sister. Never would've imagined." 

Mikoto laughed as well, but her next words escaped her lips in a melancholic tone, almost involuntarily. 

"Sibling love… maybe something we'll never get to experience." 

The comment left a heavy silence in the air. Hitoshi, noticing the weight of her words, tried to dispel it. 

"For you, who knows? Maybe your parents will surprise you." His tone was light, but in his eyes, there was a shadow of understanding. "For me, it's already impossible. My parents are dead, and the chances of them having left some lost offspring out in the world are slim." 

Mikoto lowered her gaze. There were no words that could ease that absence, so she didn't try to find them. 

"But let's change the subject. Dinner's ready." 

With agile movements, Hitoshi pulled out two plates and chopsticks from his bag. He divided the fish with precision and served a bit of rice. The campfire crackled in accompaniment as they ate in a comfortable silence, broken only by the distant chirping of crickets.

The night wrapped the village in a heavy stillness as Mikoto slid through the shadows of the Uchiha compound. The double training had left her body exhausted, but the physical fatigue was insignificant compared to the storm raging inside her. Every step resonated with the certainty that something had changed. Something irreversible. 

When she reached her bedroom window, she opened it carefully. The night air was dense, heavy with the humidity of a hot day. Everything seemed calm, yet an unease grew in her chest. A premonition. 

And then, she felt it. 

In the darkness, a figure awaited. Her mother. 

Seated with her back straight, she held a cup of tea in her hands. The soft moonlight barely outlined her features, but Mikoto didn't need to see her clearly to feel her presence. The expression on her face was not that of a worried mother waiting for her daughter. It was something colder, more distant. The faint clinking of the spoon against the porcelain filled the silence, marking each second like an impending sentence. 

Mikoto remained still. Her mind frantically searched for a way out, an explanation that could justify her absence. But she knew there were no excuses good enough. Finally, with no other option, she fell to her knees before her mother. 

"Forgive me, Mother." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Something came up tonight, and I had to leave the compound for a few hours." 

The clinking continued. Her mother did not respond immediately, and the wait was unbearable. Mikoto's breathing turned erratic. 

"Just like the previous nights." Her voice broke. "They were outings for training. Father's training is good, but I didn't want some of my skills to stagnate." 

Her words fell to the ground, empty. Mikoto knew it. And yet, she tried. 

The spoon stopped moving. A delicate sip interrupted the silence, but it brought no relief. Finally, her mother spoke. 

"Stand up." 

It was an order. There was no gentleness in her tone, only the firmness of someone who had already made a decision. Mikoto obeyed, though her legs trembled. 

"You will be the next matriarch of the Uchiha clan. You have no reason to lower your head to anyone." 

That phrase, which perhaps should have instilled pride, only filled her with unease. Being the matriarch… She had heard it so many times that the very idea weighed on her like an inescapable burden. But now, those words meant something worse. 

"Your friendship with Hitoshi Fukui is no secret." 

And there it was. Mikoto felt the air leave her lungs. She had hoped, wished, that this conversation would never come. Her mother continued, unwavering. 

"The elders have spoken. They believe your relationship with a civilian damages the clan's reputation. Your father and I tried to appease them, reminded them that there is no crime in a friendship. But their demands did not waver." 

Mikoto couldn't help it. Her mind drifted to those moments when she had, naively, believed that the stares and whispers didn't matter. That time would heal old wounds and the differences between clans and villagers would fade. But that wasn't the case. 

"They gave us two options." Her mother's voice carried an unbearable weight. "Either you abandon your friendship with Hitoshi, or you will accept a marriage with one of the elders' grandsons." 

The words hit like a direct blow to the chest. Mikoto felt her entire body tense. She wanted to speak, but no words left her lips. Only an overwhelming emptiness that threatened to consume her. 

But that emptiness had not been born today. 

Her entire life, she had everything anyone could wish for. A grand roof over her head, abundant food, fine clothes. She was raised with honor and discipline, fulfilling every expectation the clan placed upon her. But beneath all that splendor, something had always been missing. A hollow space that nothing filled. 

Until Hitoshi appeared. 

He was not part of her world. He had no illustrious surname or a technique passed down for generations. And yet, he had been the first person to see her as Mikoto, not as an Uchiha. With him, laughter was genuine, words were not calculated. For the first time, she had felt what it was like to have an equal, someone with whom she could be herself. Those months had been like a breath of air in a stormy sea. 

And now they were asking her to leave him behind. As if that connection meant nothing. As if true bonds were a luxury she could not afford. 

"Why?" The question escaped her lips before she could stop it. Her voice trembled, but not from fear. It was pain. "Why give in to them?" 

Her mother watched her in silence. Mikoto searched her eyes for any trace of compassion, of doubt. But she found only resolution. 

"The name Uchiha weighs more than our personal desires." 

It was enough. Something inside Mikoto shattered. The helplessness and resentment she had tried to suppress for so long burst forth with force. 

"And what about me?" Her voice rose, filled with fury and desperation. "What about what I want? I have done everything the clan has asked of me! I have trained, endured the stares, the rumors. Everything! And now you take away the only thing that truly makes me happy?" 

Her mother did not respond. But Mikoto wasn't done. 

"They say the clan's prestige is the most important thing, but they do nothing to change how others see us! Every time someone tries to break those barriers, they silence them! How do they expect to be respected if we keep acting as if we're above everyone?" 

Her breathing was erratic. Her chest rose and fell violently, but the anger did not subside. Only then did she notice the tears streaming down her face. 

"Why do you defend me before them if in the end, you give in? Why do you say I am strong if you won't let me decide?" 

A dense silence took hold of the room. Her mother remained unfazed. But for a moment, Mikoto thought she saw a flicker of pain in her eyes. 

"There are things we cannot change." The matriarch's voice was barely a whisper. "And there are decisions that, no matter how painful, must be made." 

The words fell with an inescapable weight. Mikoto's resistance crumbled. Her body trembled, her legs gave way. Hot tears traced paths down her cheeks as reality settled in. 

"Please." Her plea was fragile. "There must be another way." 

Her mother's hand rose, warm against her face. A gentle gesture, as if wanting to erase the sorrow she herself had caused. But she couldn't. 

"Rest, Mikoto." 

And with those words, the night's cold felt even crueler.