"If… " Kurenai hesitated, eyes dropped so she wouldn't meet Ayato's, then she forced herself to ask the question aloud. "If you could only choose one person…?"
She was a seasoned shinobi, calm and composed on the surface, but she was still a woman who wanted to hear a few tender lies from someone she liked. Even a polite fabrication would make her heart warm.
"That's a strange choice to pose," Ayato said without hesitation, his expression settling into something almost serious. "If I have to pick… I'll take them all."
He said it plainly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. All of them—every one of them—would be his.
Kurenai blinked. "All… all of them?" She'd expected a gentler answer: maybe she and Mei, or at worst a tight 'only you.' But Ayato's offhand "all" was a brazen, shameless thing, absolutely in keeping with his unruly personality. She felt a sting of wounded pride—she wasn't going to share a man with other women.
Ayato licked an ice pop and shrugged. "Don't be shy. Ask what you want. Bottling it up'll only mess with your hormones." He gave a small, teasing smile. "How many is 'all'? Hard to say."
He held up five fingers and grinned. "But a man this handsome needs—what—five special playthings."
Kurenai's face cooled. "Five?" she barked. "Are you insane?"
Five women around one man would be endless chaos. She pictured jealous fights and petty quarrels and felt the heat of indignation flare up. But hearing that the whole ridiculous scene was merely a misunderstanding softened her a little; she could step back from losing her dignity over a rumor.
"Annoying women," Ayato said mildly as she turned to leave, watching her tall figure recede. He didn't call after her. Give her a few days of sulking, he thought. She'd come back. He knew her temperament—playing hard to get worked like a charm.
He tossed the finished ice pop behind him and vanished in a flash of blue lightning. Time to tangle with the other troublemaker: Mei Terumi. If the afternoon had been drama, the Chūnin Exams promised even more theater.
—
Inn room, late afternoon.
Mei Terumi sat in a dark-blue yukata, towel in hand, patting a few drops from her hair as she stood by the window and scanned the bright village below. She'd been poring over information sent by her intelligence team: Konoha's applicants, notable names to watch—Neji Hyūga, Rock Lee, Gaara of the Sand. Gaara's file, in particular, had been curiously redacted; she frowned at the secrecy.
"They're hiding something about Gaara," she murmured. "Why would Sunagakure conceal everything about their own shinobi? Very strange."
She tossed the file aside with an irritated sniff. Whatever the reason, she had sent three squads to the exams—each squad strong enough to be dangerous. They were skirting the line between friendly contest and real competition. That said, her teams were prepared. If Konoha's Section Seven looked mediocre on paper, it was likely because Ayato had deliberately kept them under the radar. Let everyone underestimate them—then he could make a show of it at the right moment. Ayato loved a good stage.
A crackle of lightning later, Ayato materialized casually by the sofa, like he owned the place. "Thinking hard?" he asked, eyes lingering over Mei in the yukata. She was gorgeous, no question—curves, posture, the way she carried herself.
"You're a ghost," Mei said sharply as she whipped the towel away. She'd been concentrating, and Ayato's sudden appearance had startled her.
"Victims often have the problem," Ayato replied, plucking a page from her scattered reports and skimming it. He had told the Hokage to keep Section Seven's files from being publicly available—an intentional slight so people would underestimate them. He intended to capitalize on that surprise for maximal effect later: have his students offer flattering praise before unleashing their trump card.
"You don't teach much, do you?" Mei said, stifling a grin that was more irritation than humor. "I expect my teams to win. If your kids fall apart, you'll be the embarrassed one."
"If I tossed three of my squads in as participants, I'd have more confidence than you," Ayato said lightly.
Mei's fingers toyed with a damp lock of hair. "What are you hinting at?"
"We're honest with each other," Ayato said. "You know my faults, I know yours."
Mei's posture stiffened. "You're shameless," she bit out.
He stepped close and pinned her gently with a wall—classic wall-dock, too close for comfort. "Let's make a bet," Ayato said, lowering his voice. "If your three squads beat my Section Seven, you can demand anything from me. If they lose, you owe me the same."
Mei's eyes narrowed. "Anything?"
"Anything," Ayato repeated.
She smiled faintly, that dangerous, businesslike smile. "Fine. I accept."
He toyed with her chin and said in a low, almost playful voice, "If your people lose… I'll do anything you ask. And I say your teams won't beat them."
She bristled. "You'd better not break your word."
"Oh, I plan to announce the bet all over, make it public. A man who breaks that is no man at all—especially in front of you, Mei Terumi." He sounded amused, almost proud.
Mei smirked. "I'll enjoy making you regret that."
Ayato laughed and leaned in, suddenly intimate. "I'm confident in my students. If it helps, I'll pray for the miraculous."
"You talk big," Mei said, but there was a flash of something else under her controlled tone—an edge of worry, of adrenaline. She'd come here to challenge, to prove her village's strength… but this was playing with fire.
"Don't be daft," Ayato murmured. "When a garden is full of flowers, why pick just one lotus? If I must choose, why choose at all?"
That line snapped something in Mei. Her face went cold—she hated the thought of sharing him. Huge chakra rolled from her like a color over the room; the inn trembled. "You arrogant—" she began.
Ayato clicked his fingers and dark bindings danced into being across the room, forming a pocket of warped space. His eyes changed—pale blue sharpening into intense crimson. The pressure of his gaze hit Mei like an actual weight; she, an elder-style shinobi of high rank, found herself unable to move.
"Is this genjutsu?" Mei breathed, incredulous that she could be subdued so easily.
"You think tricks like that work against me?" Ayato said, voice stripped of mockery. "My eyes see a lot."
He lifted her, then let her collapse back on the sofa. She tried to struggle, to call him out—"You said you'd take responsibility, yet you toy with me"—but every attempt at resistance only made his expression darker, more dangerous.
"You said you would take responsibility?" Mei spat, regaining some composure. "If you don't mean it, I'll make you pay."
"Then let's settle this like adults," Ayato said, less a threat than a dare. He struck her—once, not to maim, but to get a reaction—then, with a maddening grin, pulled her close again. What followed was violent, heated, and chaotic: a clash of wills that left both of them breathless.
Afterwards, the room lay quiet. Mei sat flushed and furious; Ayato sat unbothered, as though nothing about the rules of the world had shifted. For all the bluster, for all the shouted promises and public wagers, the Chūnin Exams would come in a single day—and everyone would find out whose bets were worth anything.
◇ I'll be dropping one bonus chapters for every 10 reviews. comment
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ You can read the ahead chapter on P@treon if you're interested:
patreon.com/MugiwaraTL