Akihiro moved through the forest, the katana sliding smoothly in his hands with precise cuts, yet his mind wasn't fully on the training.
Every spin, every advance, every block was accompanied by memories of Ayame's bold touch, the provocative way she had approached him, the warmth of her skin, and the weight of her body so close.
A low, mischievous inner voice whispered:
Go screw her!
He almost botched a cut as a shiver ran down his spine. Instantly, his cold logic reacted:
Obviously a scheme. She wants something… it's not real. I won't fall for it.
But the perverted voice didn't give up:
But it's worth it!
Akihiro exhaled sharply, spinning the blade and striking a tree trunk with force, the wood creaking under the impact.
Each hit was almost therapeutic, yet the memory of her hand, her teasing, continued hammering in his mind.
He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the chakra flow, the precision of the strike, the rhythm of the sword… but the little voice whispered again, insistent:Go… just once, just to feel it!
"No". he murmured, sweating, balancing instinct and self-control. —
"I can't give in. Not now."
Still, every cut he made seemed to carry a trace of that touch, that heat, Ayame's audacity.
If only he were strong enough for schemes to stop mattering… But still, why plot against him? Wasn't the Caged Bird seal enough? Something was happening — and he had to figure out what.
A jolt ran down his spine as the blade sliced through the air, and the voice returned, seductive:
Just imagine, just imagine…
He furrowed his brow, gripping the katana tighter.
This isn't imagination, this is a trap. One false move and everything goes to hell.
But the pleasure…
the voice coaxed, sultry, —
it's worth the risk!
Akihiro let out a nervous chuckle, spinning low to execute a perfect vertical cut.
Mind and body were locked in a dangerous game: logic and desire, control and temptation, each pulling in opposite directions.
He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the sword, the Byakugan's flow, the precision of his technique… and the memory of Ayame's touch still burned across his mental skin.
" Focus. Training. Survival."— he repeated to himself, spinning the blade, dodging branches and roots. "This is real. This is what matters."
But what if… just if…
the perverted voice murmured, sibilant and insistent, sending another shiver through him.
He exhaled again, yet strangely, the chakra flow felt smoother, more natural, each movement sharper.
The thought of Ayame's audacity, the clash between logic and temptation, made the training almost… addictive.
And so Akihiro continued, sword in hand, body in motion, mind torn between caution and desire, each cut a dance of technique and provocative memory, the forest echoing not only with the sound of steel but with the tumult of thoughts no one could see.
Hinata appeared at the edge of the clearing, clutching a neatly wrapped bento box. The soft rustle of leaves under her feet announced her presence before she even spoke.
"Akihiro… I-I brought this for you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, holding the box out with both hands.
Akihiro lowered his katana slightly, surprised and grateful. He took the bento and set it on a flat tree stump, sitting down beside her.
The aroma of the food was comforting, grounding him after the intensity of his training.
"Thanks, Hinata," he said, opening the box. He glanced at her and asked casually, trying to mask his curiosity.
"How… how was your day?"
She hesitated, her eyes flicking down at the bento, then up at him.
"It… it was fine," she murmured, cheeks tinged pink. Her fingers brushed the edge of the stump as she settled beside him, subconsciously moving closer than usual.
Akihiro noticed immediately.
The subtle shift in her posture, the way her knee nearly brushed his, the faint warmth emanating from her presence—it sent a rush of both warmth and awareness through him.
He smiled softly, careful not to make her uncomfortable.
"Just fine, huh? Nothing exciting happen?"
Hinata shook her head, biting her lip. Her gaze flitted to his, lingering a moment longer than necessary.
Akihiro felt a strange, tender tension. She was shy as always, yet somehow braver now, choosing to be physically closer, sharing the quiet moment without words.
He picked up his chopsticks, glancing at her with a teasing glint.
"Well… I'm glad you're here. Makes the meal better."
She blinked, a faint smile breaking through her timidity, and watched him start eating, the proximity between them small but significant, a quiet acknowledgment of their growing closeness.