He closed his eyes, replaying the council meeting in his mind—not that he'd been there, but he could imagine it perfectly. Fugaku's defiance, Danzo's veiled threats, Minato's futile attempts at balance.
It was almost too easy. The Uchiha were proud, stubborn, and that pride would be their undoing. All Souta had to do was nudge them toward the edge, and they'd leap off themselves.
The door creaked open, and Pakura stepped inside, her green eyes narrowing as she took in his relaxed posture. She crossed her arms, leaning against the frame. "You look pleased with yourself."
Souta cracked one eye open, his smirk widening. "Shouldn't I be? Everything's going according to plan."
She didn't return the smile. "You mean the plan where we dug up corpses, burned them, and now the village is losing its mind?"
"Exactly." He sat up slightly, resting on his elbows. "By tomorrow, the Uchiha won't be able to walk through the market without someone spitting at their feet. Danzo's probably already got his Root operatives spreading more rumors."
Pakura's jaw tightened. "And what happens when they figure out it wasn't an Uchiha?"
"They won't." Souta's tone was confident, almost lazy. "No one's going to dig deeper than they have to. The bodies are ash, the scene's a mess, and the village already wants someone to blame. It's human nature."
...
By midday, the village was a powder keg. The marketplace buzzed with tension, civilians clustering in tight groups, their voices low but urgent. The burned bodies had become a ghost story overnight—proof, they said, that the Uchiha were turning on them.
The marketplace fight only fanned the flames. Parents kept their children close, shopkeepers eyed every passing shinobi with suspicion, and the Uchiha moved through the streets like shadows, their heads held high but their hands never far from their weapons.
Souta strolled through the chaos, hands in his pockets, blending in with the crowd. He caught snippets of conversation as he passed.
"They think they're untouchable," a woman hissed, clutching a basket of vegetables. "Burning people in alleys like that."
"Always knew they were trouble," a man muttered nearby. "Hokage should've done something about them years ago."
Souta's lips twitched. Perfect.
He stopped at a fruit stall, picking up an apple and tossing it lightly in his hand. The vendor, an older man with a weathered face, glared at him. "You buying or just wasting my time?"
"Buying," Souta said easily, flipping a coin onto the counter. "Heard anything interesting today?"
The man snorted, pocketing the coin. "Just the usual. Uchiha this, Uchiha that. Someone ought to teach 'em a lesson."
Souta took a bite of the apple, chewing slowly. "Maybe someone will."
The vendor grunted but didn't press further.
...
The sun hung low, casting a golden glow over the river as Souta sauntered toward the bank, spotting Mikoto leaning against a tree, arms crossed, staring at the water like it owed her answers. Her dark hair fluttered in the breeze, and he couldn't help the grin tugging at his lips. Time to shake her out of that mood.
"Oi, princess!" he called, voice light and teasing as he closed the distance. She turned her head, eyebrows lifting, but before she could get a word out, he swooped in, pinching both her cheeks with a playful tug. "What's with the serious face? You look like you're plotting to drown someone."
Mikoto swatted his hands away, a half-hearted scowl forming. "Souta, stop it—!"
"Nope, too late!" He laughed, ducking her swipe, then hooked an arm around her waist, hoisting her up over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. She yelped, flailing for a second before smacking his back.
"Put me down, you idiot!" she demanded, but there was a crack of amusement in her voice now, betraying her.
"Not a chance!" He spun her once, grinning wider as she huffed. "Look at you, all grumpy and brooding by the river. "
He set her down gently, but kept his hands on her hips, leaning in close with a mock-serious look. "Or maybe you're just mad 'cause you missed me so much. Admit it."
Mikoto rolled her eyes, shoving at his chest, though she didn't step back. "You're ridiculous."
Poking her side, earning a squirm. "Come on, lighten up. Or do I need to tickle it out of you?"
"Don't you dare," she warned, but her lips twitched upward. She sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I just… I won't be able to meet up like this for a bit. Things are messy right now."
Souta tilted his head, dropping the over-the-top antics but keeping his tone light. "messy, huh? What, you finally getting tired of me?" He smirked, nudging her gently with his elbow. "Guess I'll just have to survive without you for a while. Don't expect me to cry about it, though."
She snorted, stepping back a little, her smile fading into something softer. "I should get going."
"Whoa, hold up," he said, catching her wrist before she could turn away. He pulled her back gently, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You're not getting away that quick. Not without leaving me something to hold onto."
Mikoto raised an eyebrow, arms crossing. "Something?"
"Yeah," he said, stepping closer, his voice low and steady as his hands settled on her waist. "More than a little wave goodbye. I'm stuck without you for a while—make it worth it." He held her gaze, the tease in his tone tempered by a quiet intensity. "Or I'm not letting you go that easy."
She let out a short laugh, pushing at his chest lightly. "Shameless as always."
"Guilty," he replied, his grip tightening just enough to keep her there, his smirk softening. "So? What's it gonna be? I'm not moving 'til you figure it out."
Her eyes flicked away for a moment, then back to him, a mix of exasperation and amusement in her expression. "What are you after, Souta? Say it."
He leaned in a little, voice dropping. "Something real—kiss me like you mean it, hands on me, whatever you've got. Just don't leave me hanging with nothing." His fingers pressed into her waist, firm and steady.
Mikoto sighed, muttering, "Greedy," under her breath. She studied him for a beat, then stepped closer, her expression shifting—less playful, more deliberate. "Fine. But you asked for it."
Before he could respond, she grabbed his collar and yanked him down, kissing him hard—deep and unhesitating, her teeth grazing his lip just enough to jolt him. But she didn't stop there. Mid-kiss, she hooked a leg behind his, twisting with a quick, practiced move that sent him stumbling backward. He hit the grass with a muffled thud, her on top, pinning him down by the shoulders. Her hair fell around them like a curtain, and she smirked, breathless but in control.
Souta blinked up at her, caught off guard, then let out a rough laugh. "What the hell—?"
"You said 'something real,'" she cut in, her voice low, teasing, as she pressed her weight into him. "This real enough?" Her hands slid down his chest, firm and deliberate, before she leaned in again, kissing him slower this time, lingering with a heat that sank into his bones.
He grinned against her lips, hands finding her hips as he caught his breath. "Yeah, that's… damn, that's more than I bargained for."
She pulled back, still straddling him, her smirk sharp. "Good." Then she shoved him once more for good measure and rolled off, standing up smoothly while he lay there, half-dazed and half-impressed.
"Happy now?" she asked, brushing grass off her knees like it was nothing.
Souta propped himself up on his elbows, grinning up at her. "Happy? I'm good for days after that." He sat up fully, running a hand through his hair. "You're something else, you know?"
Mikoto smirked, stepping back a little. "I should head out. Things to do."
He stood too, brushing off his pants. "Yeah, alright. Don't stay gone too long, though—I'll miss you too much." His tone was light, but his eyes held hers for a second longer.
She gave a small nod, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Take care, Souta."
"You too," he said, hands in his pockets as she turned and started walking away. Her figure faded into the dusk, the river's quiet hum settling in behind her, and he watched until she was out of sight.