"Genjutsu — Mangekyō Sharingan."
The moment those ornate, hypnotic Mangekyō tomoe unfurled before him, Senju Moriki, who had been about to scream, froze mid-breath. His consciousness sheared away like mist in sunlight.
When he came back to himself, he was sprawled on the floor in a humiliating kneel, hands and forehead pressed flat against the boards.
"You wicked little Uchiha!" he spat, voice trembling.
The shame of being forced to prostrate made his eyes burn red. He tried desperately to rise, but discovered the truth with creeping horror—
The only part of him that still moved…
was his mouth.
And even that produced only tiny, pitiful sounds that could not travel past the room.
From above, Uchiha Soren chuckled lightly.
"For once, can you change your lines? At least use an insult that isn't so cliché."
But Soren was only half-paying attention to him.
Because the woman in his arms—Uzumaki Minako, flushed with lingering heat—had wrapped herself around him with an aching grace, like a serpent seeking shelter. Her slender frame trembled; her scent, her breath, the curve of her cheek shimmered under the moonlight. His smile softened, almost reverent.
"How about this one instead," Soren said playfully, "'the neighborly Uchiha who rescued a wife framed by an incompetent, furious husband.'"
"Or perhaps: 'the righteous Uchiha who defeated a wicked Senju and earned the beauty's favor.'"
He laughed.
"Bit long, though."
His arms slid around Minako's waist as he leaned back, eyes glinting. "Let's just call me the Rescuer. No need to thank me, Moriki. I'll take very good care of Minako."
Every night, Soren cast Tenchō Risshon—his divinatory eye technique—to monitor Konoha's major clans. The Forest Senju were of particular interest. Unlike the Byakugan, this technique caused no ripples, no detectable chakra tremors.
Tonight, the chaos he witnessed was… unexpected.
A disaster.
And a blessing.
Fortune given, fortune returned.
This gentle, loyal, quietly powerful woman—Minako—had always stirred something in him. Seeing her dignity shattered by Moriki's words made something in Soren snap.
Not even the First Hokage himself could stop him now.
Moriki's pupils shrank as realization hit him.
Flying Thunder God.
That kunai marker…
it must have been on Minako.
"So that's it!" Moriki snarled, voice rising into a near-shriek.
"You planted your marker on my wife!"
"You two must have been sleeping together all along!"
His rage spiked into madness.
"Minako, you shameless traitor! You seduced that Uchiha with your body—!"
"You disgrace our clan! You disgrace Tsunade's name! You—!"
Minako flinched as if struck.
The fever ravaging her body, the shame, the sliver of remaining clarity—all of it cracked under his words. Tears slipped from her eyes. Her hands, trembling, reached for the ties of her kimono—
Soren caught her wrists instantly.
"The Minako I know isn't like this," he said quietly.
Her breath shook. She looked devastated… wild… and lost.
A pang of pity pierced his chest.
With his Mangekyō, he could have controlled her entirely. Moriki lay as proof—utterly helpless, caught in absolute, unbreakable genjutsu. But Soren had long set a rule for himself:
No coercion.
No stolen moments.
Consent—or nothing.
He called it pure love, somewhat teasingly, but he held that principle with stubborn, unshakable conviction.
Then his Sublimation Point—the mysterious inner force that refined bloodlines, healed injuries, and detached toxins—flared alive. Warmth pulsed through Minako's veins. Her frantic breathing slowed. Her pulse steadied. Her chakra realigned, smoothing the violent surge from the earlier pill's backlash.
Color seeped back into her blue eyes.
Her vision steadied. She saw him beneath her—young, beautiful, concerned—and her heart plummeted into despair.
What meaning is left for someone like me…?
A soft voice brought her back.
"Good evening, Minako."
She lowered her gaze.
Moonlight spilled over the room, highlighting Soren's serene smile.
"The moon is beautiful tonight."
Something inside her cracked—cleanly, completely.
Tears spilled like strings of pearls, warm drops trailing onto Soren's cheek. He didn't wipe them away. He simply watched.
Minako laughed and cried at once.
Then, slowly, a sultry, fragile playfulness curled into her voice.
"The moon isn't nearly as lovely~"
Under the moonlight, her smile was devastating—like a butterfly emerging from flame.
Soren's gaze softened.
"No—you outshine the moon."
Her breath caught. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear with a shy flutter, glancing at him like a startled fawn.
"So," he murmured, voice deep, "have you decided?"
Minako's eyes held his. Something mischievous, resigned, and wickedly tender flicked through them—like the tip of a devil's tail.
Her lips curved in a rueful smile.
"You saw the worst of me… and of Senju Moriki."
"So tell me, Hokage-sama… are you asking for my answer because you want leverage over me?"
She leaned in; her breath brushed his ear.
"Terrible man~"
She brushed her palm across his chest.
"Then I'll hold something over you too… so I feel safe."
Her lips trembled into a smile both shy and bold.
"Give me a child, An-san~"
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