Satoru looked over and noticed Reiko sitting beside him and Tatsuo. She sat closer to him than to Tatsuo, which immediately reminded Tatsuo of the uneasy feeling Keiko had expressed about Reiko.
Satoru decided to break the silence. "How are you feeling compared to this morning?" he asked, his tone calm but curious.
Reiko glanced at him, a faint smile on her lips. "I don't feel hurt anymore," she replied softly, rubbing her forearm where her father had struck her. "Thanks to your healing skills."
Satoru smiled back, a sense of quiet satisfaction in her gratitude. As he reached for his plate, he noticed her sneakily taking a piece of his food. A thought crossed his mind, and he decided to ask her something that had been lingering.
"What's going on with your father right now?" he asked.
Reiko's expression darkened. She lowered her gaze and hesitated before speaking. "He drank so much he had to be hospitalized," she admitted, her voice heavy with sadness.
Satoru nodded thoughtfully. "And after he recovers? Are you planning to go back to your house?"
"I don't want to," Reiko replied quickly, her voice tinged with both frustration and fear.
Before Satoru could respond, Tatsuo spoke up. "If you don't want to live with him, then don't. You can leave."
Reiko shook her head. "If I leave, my brother will end up just like him," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Satoru looked at her intently. "So, what will you do?"
She took a deep breath, seemingly gathering her resolve. "I'll stay with my cousins for now. I'll work here, save up enough money, and eventually get my own place."
Satoru nodded, a small smile on his face. "That's a solid plan. You're doing the right thing."
After finishing their meal, Satoru and Tatsuo expressed their gratitude to Reiko for her hospitality before stepping out into the cool evening air.
"So, are we doing anything else, or are we just heading home now?" Tatsuo asked, stretching his arms lazily.
Satoru shook his head. "I've got an errand to run for Danzo. Shouldn't take too long. You go on ahead. I'll catch up later."
Tatsuo shrugged and started down the road, waving lazily over his shoulder. "Don't take too long, or you'll miss Keiko's cooking tomorrow."
Satoru smirked but didn't respond as he turned to follow the man who had nicked his finger earlier during their meal. His sharp eyes trailed the man's figure as he exited the restaurant with a woman by his side. The woman's body language betrayed her discomfort—her uneasy glances and stiff posture were enough to alert Satoru that something was amiss.
Remaining inconspicuous, Satoru activated the Transformation Jutsu, altering his appearance to that of a disheveled, intoxicated villager. He stumbled forward in the street, swaying with exaggerated motions, and approached the pair as they walked.
"Oi!" Satoru slurred, his voice thick with feigned drunkenness. "Y-you two wouldn't happen to know… where I live, would you? I-I think I'm lost!" He teetered unsteadily toward them, his expression a drunken haze.
The man stopped, clearly annoyed. "Get lost, you idiot," he spat, his lips curling in disgust.
Satoru stumbled closer, pretending not to notice the hostility. "No, no, wait! I'm just—"
Before he could finish, the man lashed out with a swift kick to Satoru's side, sending him sprawling onto the ground. "I said, get lost!" the man barked, his voice laced with irritation.
Satoru groaned dramatically, clutching his side, but he kept his gaze sharp and focused on the pair. He watched as the man grabbed the woman's arm and led her toward a dark alley. The woman's reluctance was palpable—her hesitant steps and darting eyes screamed that she didn't want to go.
Satoru remained on the ground for a moment, his mind racing. 'This isn't just some random couple… What's he planning to do in that alley?'
He watched the man take the woman into a dark alley, her hesitance obvious in every step she took. The man's laugh echoed faintly in the dim light his hands wandering too freely over her back, sliding lower as she visibly tensed.
Her movements screamed desperation, her silent pleas to escape the vile grip going unnoticed.
Satoru's brows furowed, his eyes narrowing as he quiety followed them into the shadows. He stepped carefully his presence masked as he slipped into the alley. The man was leaning close to the woman now, whispering something, his hand trailing down her body as she tried to shrink away.
Satoru crouched low, his eyes fixed on the scene before him. His hand found the kunai tucked in his pouch. He moved quickly, his steps silent, and before the man could notice, Satoru struck. The kunai buried itself into the man's leg.
The man let out a strangled cry of pain, collapsing onto the grimy alley floor. He clutched his bleeding leg, crimson soaking through his fingers. Satoru stood over him, his gaze falling to the blood pooling on the ground, Something stired within him -a strange, intoxicating sensation that spread through his chest.
The woman, trembling in shock, screamed for help. Satoru's attention snapped to her. Without hesitation, he silenced her, a precise blow knocking her unconscious. Her body slumped to the ground, leaving Satoru alone
with the wounded man.
He crouched down, his hand brushing against the blood-soaked ground. The warmth of the liquid against his skin sent shivers through him. He brought his hand closer, the metallic scent sharp in the air, and licked the blood from his fingers. A jolt of euphoria surged through him, a sense of exhilaration unlike anything he'd ever experienced.
The man's pained voice broke through his trance, shouting weakly for help. Satoru's gaze darkened. He extented his hand, weaving chakra strings through the air, stitching the man's mouth shut. The muffled screams only fueled
his growing excitement.
The man attempted to crawl away, dragging his injured leg. Satoru couldn't let him leave. Hie stepped forward, grabbing the man's hair and yanking him back with force. The man whimpered, his muffled pleas barely audible.
Satoru leaned close, his voice low but laced with a chilling amusement. "You won't get away."
The man struggled, his eyes wide with terror,. "Why are you doing this?!" he tried to scream through the chakra threads, the desperation in his gaze piercing
Satoru ignored the question, reaching down and grabbing a small pin from the woman's hair. He climbed onto the man's back, pressing him into the cold ground. The first stab was shallow, testing. The man writhed, his muffled
cries growing louder.
But Satoru didn't stop, The pin struck again and again, each puncture driving deeper. Blood sprayed across his hands, the smell overpowering. The man's thrashing slowed, his strength waning as Satoru continued his relentless assault.
Tears streaked down Satoru's face. His sobs mixed with his uneven breathing, a storm of emotions raging within him. The sheer bliss of the act clashed violently with the disgust coiling in his stomach.'why am l doing this? I shouldn't be doing this, this is wrong!" he thought, even as his hand refused to stop.
After a moment, he froze, the pin still gripped tightly in his hand. Hie stared at it, his blood-soaked hand trembling.
His gaze shifted to the man beneath him, gasping weakly for air The man's desperate, tear-flled eyes met Satoru's "Why?" the man whispered, his voice faint and broken, Satoru didn't answer.
Instead, his smile returned, crazed and unhinged. With one final motion, he drove the pin into the man's neck. He watched, fascinated, as the light faded from the man's eyes.
The alley fell silent. Satoru stood, his clothes and hands drenched in blood. He looked at the puddle surrounding him and a childlike excitement bubbled up. He splashed the blood with his feet, laughing uncontrollably.
---
Hajime walked alongside a group of Uchiha officers, their steps steady as they patrolled an unfamiliar part of the village. One of the officers, slightly older than the rest, furrowed his brow and asked, "Why are we patrolling here instead of our usual area?"
Hajime glanced at him sharply before answering, his voice firm. "There have been several crimes reported in this district. We can't just leave this area unchecked. Sometimes, showing presence is enough to deter potential criminals."
A younger officer spoke hesitantly, "But aren't there officers stationed here already? They can handle this kind of thing, can't they?"
Hajime stopped in his tracks, his stern gaze landing on the young officer. His voice rose slightly, enough to make his authority clear. "Are you questioning your superior, officer? If I say we patrol, we patrol. And for your information, there are suspicions that the officers in this area are corrupt. They take bribes, look the other way, and let criminals operate freely."
The group fell silent as Hajime's words sank in. He softened his tone but made sure his next statement carried weight. "We are here to ensure control. No loose ends. Do you understand?" His emphasis on the word control sent an unspoken message that resonated deeply with the officers.
"Yes, sir," they responded in unison, their resolve strengthened.
As they continued patrolling, Hajime activated a sensory technique, his chakra spreading out like a net across the area. After a moment of concentration, he opened his eyes. "Something's off," he muttered, then gestured for the officers to follow him.
"What is it, sir?" one of them asked.
"I sensed a couple entering an alley, and someone followed them. Might be a robbery," Hajime replied. He led the team to the location, his pace quick but silent.
When they reached the scene, Hajime turned to his officers and gave a specific order in a low voice, "Stay here and observe. Don't interfere unless I say so." The officers nodded and spread out, keeping their distance.
Hajime moved stealthily into the alley, his years of experience evident in his silent steps. As he peered around the corner, the scene unfolded before him. A couple was engaged in inappropriate actions, clearly unaware of their surroundings. However, what caught Hajime's attention wasn't the couple—it was Satoru.
The boy was standing at a distance, partially hidden in the shadows. He held a weapon in his hand, his stance tense and his body language suggesting he was about to act. His grip on the weapon was firm, and his focus on the couple was sharp.
Hajime's instinct was to step in and stop Satoru immediately, but something made him pause. A thought crossed his mind, one that made him hold back. 'Let's see what the boy does,' he considered, his curiosity piqued.
Remaining concealed, Hajime chose to watch and assess what Satoru was about to do, his expression unreadable as he observed the unfolding events.
Satoru stood there, frozen in the middle of the alley, staring at the crimson puddle pooling beneath his feet. His chest heaved, not from exertion, but from the storm of emotions tearing through him. The incredible rush he'd felt moments ago was a sickening mix of power and satisfaction—a feeling eerily similar to the taste of that unforgettable dish. Yet his moral compass screamed at him, reminding him of the crime he had just committed.
'What have I done?' he thought, his grip tightening around the bloodied pin in his hand. 'This… this isn't me.'
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed from the shadows. Satoru turned sharply, and his blood ran cold as Hajime Uchiha emerged into the dim light, his crimson Sharingan spinning ominously.
"Hajime?" Satoru stammered, his voice shaking. "What… what are you doing here?"
Hajime said nothing at first, his cold eyes scanning the scene. His gaze landed on the red puddle below Satoru's feet and the pin clenched in his hand. Slowly, his expression shifted from unreadable to one of sheer disgust.
"I didn't expect this from you," Hajime said, his voice low and sharp, like the edge of a blade.
Satoru tried to explain, his words tumbling out in desperation. "I was defending her—there was this woman, and this man, he was going to—"
"Stop," Hajime interrupted, raising a hand. His Sharingan bore into Satoru, unrelenting. "Why were you smiling? Laughing? Enjoying yourself while defending this woman?"
Satoru's heart sank. He hadn't realized it, but Hajime was right. The sensation of power, the rush—it had overwhelmed him, and his body had betrayed his true feelings in that moment.
"I..." Satoru's voice cracked. "I couldn't help it. It was an urge. I couldn't stop myself."
Hajime scoffed, stepping closer. "So that's it, huh? You're just like those 'born in blood' freaks who justify their twisted actions as something righteous."
Satoru's stomach churned. He knew Hajime wouldn't listen, not after seeing this. Desperation clawed at him, and he realized there was only one way out of this.
"I still have the evidence from the Yotsuki clan incident," Satoru said, his voice steadier now. "If you try anything, I'll take the entire Uchiha clan down with me."
Hajime's eyes darkened. In an instant, he closed the distance between them, his hand shooting out to grab Satoru by the neck. Hajime's grip was ironclad, and his 3-tomoe Sharingan glowed with fury as he lifted Satoru off the ground.
"What's stopping me from ending this right now?" Hajime hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "What can you possibly do to me? Me giving you that evidence was mercy, don't mistake it for weakness."
Satoru struggled in Hajime's grip, his hands clawing at Hajime's arm.
"You're just a pest," Hajime continued, his voice cold and emotionless. "A chore boy who entertains my brother from time to time. Know. Your. Place."
With a grunt, Hajime flung Satoru aside, sending him crashing into a trash can. Satoru groaned as the metal dented under his weight, pain shooting through his back and shoulders.
Hajime's Sharingan flickered as he looked into the distance. A red flare shot up into the sky, its glow reflecting in his eyes. He turned back to Satoru, his expression hard.
"You're free to go," Hajime said, his tone flat.
Satoru, still crumpled on the ground, stared up at him in confusion. "What… what are you—"
But Hajime didn't wait for him to finish. Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the night, leaving Satoru alone with the bloodstained alley and the weight of his actions.