"Warm the bed…"
Steam rolled off the hot spring like a chill vibe, water lapping soft and lazy, turning the air into a hazy hug.
Honglian dunked her flushed cheeks under the surface, just her bright-ass eyes peeking out, reflecting flickering lantern light like diamonds on water.
Meeting Makoto-sama? Straight-up lottery win of the century.
Just thinking about tucking him in—and doing way more down the line—sent holy-roller joy spidering through her chest.
She clenched a tiny fist underwater. Gotta grow up faster. Get stronger. Be worthy to stand next to him.
Makoto caught the vibe, smirked. "Cool."
Reached over, ruffled her soaked hair like a big bro, then hopped out smooth. Grabbed a fluffy towel, wiped down—water beads racing over ripped muscles, glowing gold in the dim light.
Honglian stared, heart eyes on max. Pure worship, zero thirst. Way different from Mei's predator stare.
Makoto threw on clothes, glanced where Mei vanished. Brow twitch. Midnight visits ain't her style. Something's up.
Down the hall, in deep pillar shadows, Mei leaned against cold wood, trying to cool the furnace in her skin. But replaying that glimpse? Made it worse.
Kid's frame, steam-slick and tall; those bottomless black eyes. Wouldn't leave her brain.
She bit her lip. Future Mizukage, and I'm tripping over a damn teenager?
But that swagger beyond his years, eyes that see you, and… that flash of raw testosterone? Heart still jackhammering.
"Little demon bastard," she muttered—no real heat, just messy feels she didn't clock.
Footsteps—steady, cocky—echoed closer. Each one synced to her pulse.
"Never pegged the next Mizukage for hiding in corners like a shy schoolgirl."
Makoto's voice, all tease. Calling her "ma'am" felt wrong in the best way.
Mei sucked in air, slapped on her lazy-sexpot smile. Ears still pink. Arms crossed—accidentally serving curves on a platter. Tone sour as hell.
"Who's shy? Just wondering how a kid's already plotting a harem."
Makoto stepped closer. Close. Her perfume—mature, dangerous—hit different from the sulfur.
Mei tensed, black-stockinged legs coiled to bolt if he touched. Gut screamed trap.
He clocked it, smirked. Perceptive queen. I just wanna tat a succubus mark, chill.
Leaned in, breath ghosting her ear. "Sounds like the future Mizukage's jealous of my crew."
Mei scoffed, turned away, stepped back. "Worried you'll drown in pussy and waste that god-tier talent."
"You're my valuable partner, after all." Heavy on valuable.
Makoto nodded, mock-enlightened. "If you're that worried…"
"How about the Mizukage personally supervises? Keep my energy on the right path?"
Eyes raked her legs, hips—bold as fuck.
Against a throttle-happy vet like Mei? Floor it or go home.
Her skin burned where he looked.
Mei glared, voice dripping shade. "I'm not your damn babysitter."
"Worry about your little maid glued to your hip. So helpless and adorable."
Last words gritted through teeth. Vinegar thick.
Why am I even mad? Want him to say he only wants me?
Makoto pivoted—smart enough not to push a dragon to "choose one."
"Business," he said, tone leveling. "Midnight house calls ain't just to roast my love life, right?"
Mei eyed him, curiosity spiking. "How old are you, really?"
She'd dug. Sharingan = Uchiha. Intel pointed to Makoto Uchiha—Fugaku's second son, snatched by Kumo years back. Explained the Lightning Mode.
Genius like him? Possible.
Rescued, then poof—vanished. No Konoha, no Kumo.
But the age? Way off. And that peek earlier? No way that matched a kid.
Her gaze slid over his face, build—cheeks flaring at the memory.
Makoto's smile faded, hurt flashing perfectly. "You investigated me?"
Mei's heart dropped. How'd he know from one question?
Seeing his "pain," guilt stabbed. "I didn't—I just—"
Words died. Facts don't lie.
He turned, 45-degree sad-boy profile under moonlight. "Thought you were different. Someone I could trust with my life."
"I'd have told you anything you asked… Don't I rate direct in your book?"
Oscar-worthy. Voice cracked just right.
But mid-moon-gaze? Weird vibe. Moonlight felt… cold. Like eyes on his soul.
Distant, ancient stare locked from space. Reminded him of that anime dude with the same name—tragic end. Goosebumps.
Mei panicked harder. Can't lose this bond.
Stepped closer, voice soft, pleading. "I do trust you! Just… your talent, your everything—had to know."
"You always dodged…"
Makoto, still facing away: "Results good? Got me all figured out, future Mizukage?"
That title dripped shade.
Mei's face burned. Confidence gone. "What'll make you drop it?"
Makoto turned—hurt poof, swapped for predator grin. Eyes prowled her body, locked on emeralds.
"Investigated me? Fair's fair…"
Leaned in, voice velvet sin: "My turn to investigate you."
Investigate—dripping innuendo.
Mei—virgin lips, vet mouth—got it. Face exploded red, down her neck, collarbone glowing pink.
Legs snapped shut, heart deafening.