I stepped out, or rather fled, from the flower shop with a bunch of odd and conflicting feelings, and honestly, I wasn't in the mood to make sense of them. The taste of Yamanaka flowers was still thick in my throat.
I looked down at the flowers. White chrysanthemums, pale yellow freesias, something purple I couldn't name. Noriko had chosen them with the same measured care she'd shown walking in on her daughter choking on my dick. No gasps. No screams. Just that cool, noble composure that said I've seen worse, boy, and you're not worth losing my temper over.
I glanced back at the shop.
Noriko Yamanaka may be even scarier than Kushina.
Not because she'd threatened me or pulled rank or even raised her voice. No—it was the composure. That immaculate, noble nonchalance she'd maintained from start to finish, even after walking in on her daughter kneeling in my cum like some kind of depraved art installation. She hadn't flinched and hadn't screamed as any mother would have in her situation. She just… handled it. Kept face. Kept dignity exactly where her daughter had happily traded hers for a few nice words.
Yeah….. Scarier than Kushina.
I wondered…. wondered what it'd take to crack that steel composure. How many thrusts before that smooth, cultured voice started to break? How many orgasms could she handle before she started singing? How hard would I have to drive into that mature, highborn cunt before she stopped being the dignified clan wife and started moaning like—
"…. stop it, dammit," I muttered, clenching my jaw and dragging a hand down my face.
My plate was already full. Overflowing, actually. I was drowning in pussy and bad decisions, and here I was, practically salivating at the thought of adding Ino's mom to the list like some kind of degenerate bingo card.
But the insidious voice persisted, intent on persuasion.
It must be exhausting, the voice said, and I kinda agree; keeping up that composure all the time. Stressful. Unhealthy, even. A woman like Noriko—refined, elegant, probably, hopefully, certainly touch-starved and definitely wound tighter than a tripwire under all that poise—deserved to feel desired. To unwind. To let go of that rigid self-control for once in her life.
And with Inoichi making damn sure I stayed away from Ino, well… he'd leave his wife unguarded, wouldn't he? It'd be a public service, really. Stress relief. A gentleman's duty to ensure the well-being of—
I slapped myself.
Then again.
Then a third time for good measure.
A few passersby stared. One mother pulled her kid closer and quickened her pace.
"Get your shit together," I hissed under my breath.
I looked up at the rooftops. Guy-sensei was probably lurking up there somewhere, watching me slap myself like a lunatic and drawing all the wrong conclusions. Or maybe the right ones. Hard to say. Either way, he'd definitely noticed me slipping out the back of the Yamanaka shop. That alone would raise suspicions.
But I didn't mind. Not really.
Well, I did mind, but it wasn't as risky as them finding out about Kushina. My… involvement with Ino wouldn't stay secret for long anyway. Probably wasn't a secret now, if it ever had been. And with how things stood, Inoichi wouldn't move against me without Minato's say-so.
A few more people were staring now. Some whispering. A couple of kids pointing. My face wasn't that well-known in the village, but for a shinobi, even a handful of eyes was too many. It left a bitter taste in my mouth, like copper and shame.
I clicked my tongue and hopped onto the nearest roof.
The late afternoon sun slanted across Konoha in honey-gold streaks, painting the rooftops in warm amber. Below, the village buzzed with life—merchants closing up shop, parents calling their kids in for dinner, a dog barking somewhere off to the east. The rooftops stretched out before me, a patchwork of clay tiles and wooden beams, shadows growing long as the day bled into evening.
Funny how time worked. Felt like I'd just walked this morning, and now the sun was already halfway to setting. Kushina. Ino. Somewhere in between, the hours had slipped away.
Guess that's what happened when you were enjoying yourself.
I started moving, hopping from roof to roof. Slowly. My leg still ached like a bitch.
When I got home, I'd give Shiho the flowers and one or two brain-buzzing kisses, trying the good boyfriend for once. Then I'd lock myself in a room and recreate that Eight Trigrams seal I'd memorized from Kushina's stomach. Well, seventy percent of it.
Alright, maybe now, sixty? For inflation and taxes.
My memory wasn't that good, and Ino's face and the feeling of her throat kept getting in the way of the finer details.
Either way, I'd probably have to pay the Uzumaki matriarch another visit.
I was disappointed in myself for how excited that made me.
Also, meditation. Lots of it. Maybe I could glean insight from the residual Nature Chakra still buzzing in my system, clear my head before I did something even stupider than—
I stopped.
The air shifted. Instinct more than sound.
I turned.
A shinobi landed on the water tank behind to the side, silent as a shadow despite the weight of his body. Mid-twenties, maybe late. Pale skin, dull-black hair falling just past his shoulders, neatly kept. Dark eyes that didn't blink as much as they should. There was a faint dot on his forehead, almost like a bindi, and his posture screamed Uchiha even without the clan crest stitched onto his collar.
"Took you long enough," he said, voice soft but edged with something that might've been condescension. Uchiha's signature aloofness superiority, it's been a while. "How much time does it take to order flowers…." He wasn't asking, even if he phrased it that way.
So he'd been waiting. For a while, judging by the faint irritation in his tone.
"I'm afraid," I glanced down at the bouquet in my hand, then back at him. "These aren't for you, if that's what you're hoping. I mean, you're pretty, but I'm already seeing someone."
He scoffed
I tried and failed to place him. Not all Uchiha were in my mental rolodex, but I knew this one, at least by face. I'd seen him around. Patrols, maybe. Or hanging around the Police headquarters looking vaguely superior.
My eyes flicked to his shoulders, searching for the armband that marked the Military Police. Nothing. Odd. Most of them wore it like a badge of honor, especially now, with all the tension simmering between the clan and the village.
But I was pretty sure this guy was part of the force.
The silence stretched.
"Do you… need something, Uchiha-san?" I prompted.
He looked at me for another beat. Then tilted his head slightly—a gesture that somehow managed to feel mocking.
Finally, he spoke. "My grandmother wishes to see you."
I blinked.
"Your… grandmother."
"Tomoe Uchiha."
The name clicked. An older woman, silver hair pinned back, kind eyes, a smell like camellia oil and sugar. She used to run a little candy shop near the market. I'd hung around there sometimes, back when I was young and stupid enough to think befriending Shisui would somehow make me stronger.
She'd given me candy. Konpeitō, those little star-shaped sugar crystals that came in a dozen colors. Always with a smile, always with some gentle comment about how I looked too thin or too serious for a boy my age.
It was… embarrassing, in hindsight. I was still green and stupid, I had dreams from another world rattling around in my skull, and I thought I could buddy up to Shisui Uchiha through sheer proximity and shamelessness.
It was a humiliating, cringe-worthy memory. I veered hard away from it.
"You're her grandson?" I asked.
"I am."
"How is she?"
"Well enough." His tone didn't invite further questioning.
I studied him. Studied the situation. An invitation from an old woman who hadn't seen me in years.
Danzo's face flickered through my mind. The old war hawk had spies everywhere, including the Uchiha clan. He didn't like me, and the fact that my name was suddenly all over the village after killing Yagura probably didn't sit well with him.
But would he use Tomoe? Try to tie me to the Uchiha, make me look like I was picking sides?
No. That didn't track. Danzo hated the Uchiha more than he hated me. The last thing he'd want was them gaining an ally, even a tenuous one.
So not a plot. Probably.
The Uchiha weren't big on scheming anyway. Too proud. Too straightforward. Except… when they weren't. Madara. Obito. The coup, they were probably still planning in some back room somewhere.
Alright, maybe they did plot a fair bit.
My shinobi instincts weren't tingling, which was either a good sign or proof that I'd fucked myself stupid and couldn't sense danger anymore.
But Tomoe? She was just a gentle old woman with a candy shop. I hadn't seen her in years. What could she possibly want?
Guess I'd find out.
"Alright," I said, shifting the bouquet to my other hand. "Lead the way."
The Uchiha, her grandson, gave a slight nod, then turned and started moving across the rooftops with that same measured, arrogant grace.
I followed, flowers in hand, leg aching, mind buzzing with questions I didn't have answers to yet.
— — — — — — — —
A/N: Sorry, this chapter's a bit shorter than usual! I got a little burned out after writing Ino.
PS. You can read up to 8 chapters ahead at patreon.com/vizem