Mamoru's dark irises blazed into frosty blue. "These are the Six Eyes."
He tapped his temple. "With them, I control Chakra with perfect precision, see the weave of any Ninjutsu, trace every flow…"
'So that's why the color kept shifting.' Yakumo realized.
"My Space-Time Ninjutsu is called Limitless, and it needs the Six Eyes to work." He opened his palm before her. "Remember the concept of infinity I mentioned?"
She reached out, curious. But just before contact, an invisible void blocked her, a bottomless gap that gave no touch. Wonder filled her eyes.
As the barrier vanished, her hand slipped through and Mamoru's fingers closed gently around hers.
"You—"
Yakumo tried to pull free, but he held firm. After a soft sigh, she let him, cheeks warming.
She was getting used to his pushiness and his habit of deciding things for them both.
"Limitless has two main forms."
Mamoru lifted a finger. "First, the converging Blue."
He lifted another finger. "Second, the diverging Red."
He pressed the fingers together and met her gaze. "When opposites combine…"
He paused deliberately.
Yakumo held her breath.
"They birth a virtual mass that erases everything, Purple." His voice stayed calm.
Yakumo exhaled. "If that's true… it's completely unfair."
Mamoru's tone was serious. "I've shown you everything, keep it safe."
He could confide in her because he knew she would never betray him, Kurenai had long since lost her trust. Now the person Yakumo felt closest to, safest with, was him.
Besides, sincerity itself was the surest coin to buy trust.
"I'll keep it." Yakumo promised, eyes bright with the happiness of being trusted. "No one will hear it from me."
"Good." Mamoru nodded.
"How long are you going to hold my hand?" Yakumo murmured, flexing her fingers.
"Don't like it?" Grinning, Mamoru tightened his grip.
They faced each other. His gaze was direct, while hers faltered and slipped away.
Yakumo didn't answer, but her fingers curled back, weaving tighter.
The room fell silent.
Unnoticed, the depths of Mamoru's black eyes were empty—no feeling, only still water.
—
Late at night.
Yakumo jolted awake from her sleep.
Silence surrounded her, not the clamor of her dreams, only the heavy darkness and the ceaseless tapping against the window.
She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and looked toward the sound: the door leading to the balcony.
Wind slipped through a gap that hadn't been sealed, whipping the heavy curtain so it slapped the frame again and again. She clearly remembered checking before sleep, certain she'd locked it tight. A flicker of doubt crossed her mind.
Throwing off the quilt, she stepped barefoot onto the cool floor and padded quietly toward the balcony to close it. The instant her fingers neared the handle, her hand froze mid-air.
Muffled but unmistakable voices rode the breeze and crept into her ears.
Almost unconsciously, she abandoned the idea of shutting the door. Instead, with the gentlest pressure, she eased it open, slipped through, and melted into the shadows of the balcony.
Moonlight poured like cold water over the courtyard.
Below, two long black silhouettes stood motionless on the open ground before the villa, the air between them taut.
"How has Yakumo been lately?" Kurenai asked, voice low and grave, arms folded as she studied Mamoru.
"Emotionally stable, no sign of power abuse. Everything's under control." Mamoru answered, relaxed and certain.
"Is that so… Then it's time to move to the next stage." Kurenai drew the words out, a thoughtful edge to them. "We must keep her emotions from slipping."
"Relax. I'm with her, she'll be fine." A confident curve tugged at Mamoru's lips.
"Seems you've gained her complete trust." Kurenai's tone stayed flat, neither praise nor anything else.
"Heh."Mamoru gave a short, careless laugh. "Who do you think I'm dealing with? A girl who barely understands feelings, flatter her a little and she's putty in my hands."
"You're despicable." Kurenai frowned, disgust plain in her voice.
"Save the moral lecture and push the plan forward. Playing house with a kid every day bores me, I've got zero freedom here."
Kurenai said, stressing each word, "Soon. Just a few more days. At this stage, don't do anything unnecessary."
Mamoru raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
Kurenai's gaze knifed into him. "Last warning. Don't grow attached to the target. Stick to your role."
Mamoru snorted, "Ridiculous. Feelings for that monster? Impossible."
Before the words had faded, a faint scrape drifted from the balcony.
Both fell silent, heads snapping toward the moonlit balcony above. It stood empty.
"What was that?" Kurenai whispered, wary.
A gust swept the trees, sending leaves skittering.
"Windy night." Mamoru said after a moment, waving it off. "Probably just something blown loose. Don't jump at shadows."
"Stick to the plan, then. Keep soothing her."
"I'll do it without your reminders. A few more days and I'm done."
"The closer we get, the more careful we must be. No side moves."
"So nagging…" Mamoru turned away, impatient.
"You—" Kurenai sighed. "Fine. I'm off. Watch the place."
"Got it."
Kurenai melted into the night, vanishing among the trees in a few silent leaps.
Mamoru lingered, staring after her, moonlight carving uncertain lines across his face, then slowly headed back toward the villa.
The front door clicked shut behind him, his silhouette disappearing inside.
Up on the balcony, however, just beneath the cold railing, Yakumo huddled into a trembling ball.
Her hands clamped over her mouth, nails digging into skin to stifle any sob. Tears flooded down her ashen cheeks, pattering onto the stone.
Why… why… why… Monster…
The word stabbed her heart like an icicle.
The one she'd thought brought light and warmth, the one she'd quietly trusted, had only worn a caring mask to complete a mission.
All along, he'd stood opposite her, calmly acting the attentive friend while she played the fool, depending on him. In his eyes, she was merely a 'monster,' pitiful and easily fooled.
Everything had been a lie.
Every caring word, every shared moment, were threads in a carefully woven deception.
Tears pelted the balcony floor in a soft, broken rhythm.
Yakumo's fists pressed against the rough tiles, knuckles white. Agony twisted into a hatred that threatened to swallow her whole.
In that instant, betrayal, deceit, and humiliation fused into a single name—Uchiha Mamoru.
Unforgivable… absolutely unforgivable.