Dusk settled over the village, and the warm fragrance of miso soup drifted through the kitchen.
Uchiha Mikoto stood before the stove, wearing a deep indigo linen apron tied neatly behind her waist.
When she leaned forward to check the simmering pot, a few loose strands of hair slipped down, glowing like silk beneath the warm light.
Outside the window, the sunset had painted the sky a brilliant crimson.
In the distance, the lamps of the Ginza District had just begun to light up.
The indoor lights mingled with the fading sunset, casting shifting shadows across Mikoto's gentle profile.
Her knife moved swiftly and precisely as she chopped vegetables—like a ninja executing a practiced technique.
The onions beneath her blade blossomed into neat white threads.
When oil began to crackle softly in the pan, she unconsciously hummed a childhood lullaby.
The glass window gradually fogged with condensation from the heat, reflecting the soft silhouette of the girl swaying gently in the rising steam.
At the moment she sprinkled bonito flakes over the dish—
A knock sounded at the entrance.
The corners of her eyes curved into a smile even brighter than the sunset.
"I'm coming. The door isn't locked."
Her voice was soft.
She moved lightly through the hallway like a butterfly passing through the deepening twilight.
When she opened the door, the evening breeze carrying the scent of sunflowers drifted into the corridor.
At the entrance stood Anlan, bathed in warm light.
His gaze rested quietly on the girl approaching him.
Mikoto raised her hand and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
That simple movement tightened the apron fabric slightly across her chest, faintly outlining her graceful curves.
"Mikoto-nee… should I say 'I'm home'?"
Anlan spoke with a smile.
His eyes were filled with contentment.
The warm yellow light outlined Mikoto in a soft halo.
Wearing an apron and walking toward him like this—
She looked exactly like a newlywed wife waiting for her husband to return home.
Every step carried an irresistible gentleness.
"And what do you think, Anlan-kun?"
Mikoto smiled back.
She naturally took the katana he removed from his waist and placed it on the sword rack.
Then she casually held his wrist.
Warmth spread through their touching skin.
She led him into the living room and guided him to sit down.
The cushions still carried the faint warmth of the afternoon sun.
As soon as Anlan sat down, he tried to grab her fingers playfully.
But she deftly pulled her hand away.
"The miso soup is still simmering."
"I can help."
Anlan immediately stood up.
But Mikoto turned back and lightly tapped his forehead with her fingertip.
"Today is my turn to show off my cooking skills."
Anlan watched her disappear behind the glass kitchen door.
The cheerful clatter of utensils echoed from inside.
He couldn't help smiling.
Leaning back comfortably against the cushion, his gaze drifted toward the brilliant sea of lights outside the Ginza district.
Even though the Third Great Ninja War was about to erupt—
Nobles and wealthy merchants across the world still indulged in luxury and extravagance.
To them, ninja were like a parallel line that would never intersect with their own lives.
The only people certain to suffer—
Were always the innocent civilians caught in the whirlpool of war.
But what does that have to do with me?
Anlan chuckled softly to himself.
Then he began curiously observing the house.
This was his first time visiting Mikoto's home.
The interior décor was elegant yet solemn.
Clearly arranged according to the tastes of an older generation.
But carefully placed plants added warmth to the otherwise formal atmosphere.
Elder Hokage isn't here?
Anlan sensed the surroundings.
Only he and Mikoto were inside the house.
That eased him a little.
Earlier, he had come here with the mindset of meeting his future family.
To be honest, he had been slightly nervous.
Did she invite Elder Hokage out to dinner on purpose?
Anlan shook his head and dismissed the thought.
His gentle and considerate fiancée would never do something like that.
Perhaps he would return at dinner time.
Just as Anlan thought this—
The sliding kitchen door opened.
Mikoto walked out carrying a large lacquer tray filled with dishes.
The salt-grilled salmon glistened golden with oil.
Bright green chilled spinach salad was sprinkled with white sesame seeds.
A smooth bowl of chawanmushi released a tempting aroma.
Beside it sat a small pot of miso soup, bubbling gently with steam.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
Mikoto placed each dish neatly on the table.
Then she set out two pairs of chopsticks.
Her voice was gentle as she explained,
"This afternoon, after finishing our discussion with Grandpa and the others, I mentioned inviting you for dinner."
"Grandpa was immediately dragged away by Elder Setsuna."
"They said they wouldn't stop drinking until they were completely drunk."
She looked up at Anlan.
Her eyes carried a faint smile that seemed to say—
See? I didn't arrange this on purpose.
There's clearly something suspicious here.
Anlan almost laughed.
He could perfectly imagine Elder Hokage's unwilling expression—his face dark, yet unable to refuse.
"Our elders are getting old."
"Drinking late into the night isn't good for their health."
"Another day I'll definitely try to persuade them."
Hearing Anlan speak so seriously, Mikoto shot him a sideways glance full of charm and mock annoyance.
This little rascal was getting more and more shameless.
Unbothered, Anlan smiled and gently pulled her hand as they sat together.
He picked up a slice of tamagoyaki and placed it into his mouth.
The fragrance of eggs and subtle sweetness melted across his tongue.
Looking at Mikoto's quiet profile beneath the warm light—
A deep sense of home filled his heart.
"The food is delicious," Anlan praised softly.
Mikoto's eyes curved gently.
She didn't reply.
Instead, she skillfully picked up a piece of sweetfish belly meat, carefully removing all the tiny bones.
Then she placed it naturally into his bowl.
Toward the end of the meal, Mikoto picked up a ceramic teapot and poured a cup of tea for Anlan.
Steam rose between them.
She looked up at him.
Her expression was gentle yet serious.
"Anlan."
"This afternoon… Grandpa and the others decided to place the clan's entire intelligence network under my control."
She paused briefly.
Her gaze remained steady on him.
"The part you personally built—I will keep exactly as it is."
"Next, I'll gradually take over the intelligence channels currently held by the Clan Head."
"What do you think?"
In Mikoto's eyes, even before stepping onto the battlefield—
Uchiha Fugaku had already lost the competition for clan leadership.
Just one technique—
Sharingan: Spatial Jump
—was already a tremendous achievement.
Whether used to kill or retreat, it would make awakened Uchiha far more formidable.
Even the legendary White Fang of Konoha once dominated the battlefield with similar speed and swordsmanship.
With Wind-Guiding Swordsmanship and Spatial Jump, the Uchiha might one day reach the same heights.
When that time came—
Every Uchiha would become a White Fang.
Across the entire ninja world—
Who could stand against them?
Yet to Mikoto's surprise—
Anlan simply shook his head.
Then he reached out and gently pinched her cheek.
"What's mine is yours."
"There was never any need to separate them."
"And this is the first order given by the clan with a united voice."
"It marks the beginning of everyone setting aside past grudges and moving toward unity."
"We cannot be the ones to ruin that beginning."
Mikoto looked at the boy's serious expression.
For a moment—
Her eyes seemed to shine with starlight.
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