He sighed. "Daikokuten. The Abyssal Coffin. I can store objects—attacks, even people—in a frozen dimension. They exist outside of time until I decide to bring them back."
She exhaled sharply. "And you think you don't fully understand it yet?"
"I said it was a lot."
Mikoto pressed her fingers against her temple, trying to process everything. This wasn't just another dōjutsu. It wasn't something the Uchiha or even the village could afford to ignore. It was something that could change everything.
"If you use this too much, if someone senses the way chakra reacts to it..." She trailed off, shaking her head.
Souta reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Then we'll deal with it."
Mikoto barely had time to react before she felt Souta's hands firmly grip her—one arm wrapped securely under her thighs, the other supporting her back. In a single effortless motion, he lifted her, holding her against his chest as if she weighed nothing at all.
Her breath hitched. "Souta—!"
He smirked, his golden eye gleaming in the dim light. "This power…" He shifted his grip slightly, making sure she was secure. "With this, I can fight against those who oppose you. Against those who think they can dictate our lives."
Mikoto's hands instinctively grasped his shoulders, her heart pounding—not from fear, but from the sheer intensity in his voice. The confidence. The unshakable resolve.
"You're serious," she murmured, searching his gaze. "You'd really stand against the clan? Against the village?"
Souta chuckled, his fingers tightening slightly under her. "Mikoto," he whispered, "if the world wants to stand against us, let it."
She swallowed, feeling the heat of his body against hers, the raw power in the arms that held her so effortlessly. He wasn't bluffing. He wasn't just speaking recklessly. He meant it.
Her lips parted slightly. "You're insane."
He grinned. "Probably. But only for you."
She wanted to argue. She should argue. But in this moment, wrapped in his arms, feeling the certainty in his every word, she didn't want to fight it.
Mikoto exhaled slowly, allowing herself to relax just slightly. "Only you would say something like that., you know that?"
Souta smirked, adjusting his hold on her just enough to pull her closer. "And you love me for it."
She scoffed, looking away. "I never said that."
He chuckled. "Yet."
No matter what came next—no matter the challenges, the threats, or the consequences—Souta had already made up his mind. And somehow, despite everything, she found herself drawn even deeper into his unshakable world.
Souta's golden eye gleamed as he traced his fingers along Mikoto's side, his touch feather-light but deliberate. He could feel the subtle tension in her body, the way she held herself still, waiting, anticipating. A smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear.
"Can I give you another love bite?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing.
Mikoto stiffened slightly, her cheeks heating up. "You really don't know when to quit, do you?," she muttered, shifting in his hold but not quite pulling away.
He chuckled. "Come on, you liked the last one."
She shot him a glare, her lips parting as if to argue, but no words came out. Instead, she huffed, turning her head to the side. "Not on my neck."
Souta raised a brow. "Oh?"
Mikoto crossed her arms. "It's too visible. If anyone saw—"
"Then somewhere less obvious?" he offered smoothly.
She hesitated, clearly weighing her options. She didn't want to outright refuse him, but she also wasn't ready to wear his mark somewhere noticeable.
Souta watched her carefully, then smiled. "How about your stomach?"
Mikoto's eyes widened slightly, and she instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist, as if shielding herself from his suggestion.
"M-My stomach?"
He nodded, his gaze dark with amusement. "It's soft, isn't it?" He let his fingers trail lower, barely brushing against the fabric covering her waist. "And no one would see it."
Her face burned. "You—!"
"You're thinking about it."
She was.
Mikoto pressed her lips together, trying to steady her breathing. The way he was looking at her, the way his hands hovered just close enough to tease—it was maddening. But deep down, there was a part of her that thrilled at his attention, at the way he touched her like she was something to be cherished.
Finally, after what felt like forever, she exhaled sharply. "Fine."
Souta grinned. "Good girl."
Mikoto shot him a sharp look, but he only chuckled, clearly enjoying her flustered state. His fingers toyed with the hem of her top, waiting for her to decide how to expose the spot he wanted. She hesitated again before finally reaching down and unbuttoning the lower part of her garment, loosening it just enough to reveal the smooth expanse of her stomach.
Souta's gaze darkened as he took in the sight before him.
"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with admiration.
Mikoto swallowed hard, her heart pounding as he traced his fingertips over her skin. His touch was warm, reverent, almost as if he were memorizing the feel of her.
"So soft," he murmured, his hands splaying against her waist. "So perfect."
She shivered under his praise, her fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt. "Just get it over with," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
He smirked. "Impatient?"
Before she could snap back, he dipped his head down, his lips brushing against the delicate skin of her stomach. Mikoto let out a soft gasp, her body instinctively tensing at the sensation. He was slow, purposeful, taking his time as he pressed kisses along the curve of her waist, his breath fanning against her heated skin.
Then, without warning, he sucked lightly at a spot just above her navel, his teeth grazing against her in a way that sent shivers up her spine.
Mikoto bit her lip, refusing to let out any sound, but the way her body reacted was enough for Souta to notice. He smirked against her skin, pressing his tongue against the faint mark he left behind before pulling back slightly to admire his work.
A small, barely visible bruise began to form—hidden enough that no one would see, but there nonetheless.
Mikoto exhaled shakily. "You're unbearable."
Souta chuckled, his fingers brushing against the fresh mark.
"Maybe. But you let me do it."
She turned her face away, refusing to acknowledge his smugness.
"Only because you wouldn't shut up about it."
He smirked, kissing the same spot again before straightening up. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Mikoto scowled, but there was no real bite to it. If anything, she looked more embarrassed than anything else. She quickly rebuttoned her top, smoothing it down as if trying to erase what just happened.
Souta, however, looked immensely pleased with himself. He tilted her chin up, making her meet his gaze. "Next time, I'll pick the spot."
She narrowed her eyes. "There won't be a next time."
He grinned. "We'll see."
Mikoto let out a frustrated sigh, stepping back before he could tease her any further. "You..."