Night.
"No."
Pakura's voice trembled with anger and shame as she snapped at him.
Across from her, Evan snorted.
"What do you mean 'no'?"
"You know exactly what I mean," Pakura ground out, teeth clenched. "Don't pretend you don't."
"I'm just trying to conduct a thorough investigation for Konoha's sake," Evan said lightly, shrugging. "How is that wrong?"
Pakura's temper spiked.
"You're using you to investigate me?!"
Evan blinked.
"Oh? Good idea. Approved."
"You bastard!"
[Pakura — Hatred +10,000]
"Ke-ke-ke…" Evan chuckled.
"I'm only doing what you suggested."
Pakura's eyes flew wide.
When did I—
Wait.
That… wasn't what she meant at all.
Her cheeks flushed with fury and humiliation.
The rest of that "interrogation" didn't need words.
An hour later.
The night outside thickened, but the room was quiet and warm.
Pakura had fallen deeply asleep beside him, breathing soft and even.
Evan glanced at her and clicked his tongue.
This woman… Is she clinging because she can sense she'll be leaving soon?
She'd been strangely attached, more emotional, more reluctant to let him go.
Annoying.
He wanted hatred, not affection.
And Pakura… was starting to feel a bit like "hate-turned-soft," as if resentment had twisted into something else over time.
That would not do.
No, no.
He didn't raise her to be a healing-type heroine.
Unconsciously, his thoughts slid to the "newer" flavor—
Uzuki Yugao.
He shook his head, amused, and let his mind settle.
He'd squeezed quite a bit of hatred out of several women recently, plus some experience from Root's delivery service of sacrificial idiots.
Still not quite at a million points.
But close enough that he could finally see the line.
Time to roll the dice again.
He needed more techniques.
His hand arsenal was still too limited.
[Ding! 1000 Hatred consumed. New martial art acquired: "Perfect Bare-Hand Blade Catch."]
[Perfect Bare-Hand Blade Catch (Lv.0): Pending activation.]
"…Huh."
Evan went still.
Perfect bare-hand blade catch?
Strong or weak, it depended entirely on how "blade" was defined.
If it counted ** any sharp weapon**, he could theoretically catch even a sword swung by Six Paths Madara.
If it only applied to literal "blades," then a guy with a wooden stick could bypass it.
"Well… I'll manage. Might be useful in some stupid-but-brilliant situation."
He smirked.
[Ding! 1000 Hatred consumed. New divine art acquired: "Kyoka Suigetsu."]
[Kyoka Suigetsu (Lv.0): Pending activation.]
Evan suddenly sat up a little.
Now that was interesting.
Kyoka Suigetsu — Perfect Hypnosis.
It didn't rely on chakra at all.
It dominated the five senses directly—
sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch—
rewriting the target's perception and weaving illusion on a foundational level.
No seals.
No chakra flow disruptions.
Just pure sensory hijacking.
"This… is a jackpot."
It was, in his mind, the equivalent of pulling down his pants and having the system politely offer him an umbrella at the same time.
He knew his own shortcomings.
His greatest weakness had always been genjutsu: illusion-type techniques.
No one had really exploited that yet—
because anyone who came close had died.
Until his Eight-Nine Arcane Art advanced, he'd always lacked a clean, direct counter to top-tier illusions.
Now, with Kyoka Suigetsu—
Everything changed.
He could face high-level genjutsu users head-on.
He could face them.
The red-eyed clan.
"Uchiha Mikoto… just wait."
Evan chuckled to himself.
"From today on, you can call me—
Evan: Genjutsu Master."
"Aaah—just kill me already!"
A shrill scream echoed through the depths of Konoha's prison.
Evan's voice followed, calm and mild:
"Do you hate me?"
"NO! I don't hate you, I swear I don't hate you!"
"If you don't hate me, then you can die."
"N-no—! I hate you! I hate you so much!"
"Liar. I'm not getting any feedback."
"Y-you're insane— AAAAAH—!"
Moments later, Evan stepped out from a cell, face shadowed.
Behind him lay what had once been a man—
shattered, unrecognizable.
The ninth in two days.
He had chosen to live in the prison partly because it allowed him to constantly generate and harvest hatred from the worst criminals.
But—
No matter how he tortured them,
no matter how thoroughly he shattered them—
The hatred he got from these people was… minimal.
Compared to Pakura, or Yugao?
It was dust.
"Figures," Evan muttered.
"Women really are the most talented creatures when it comes to holding grudges."
He sighed dramatically.
"Evan… Evan, are you inside?"
A clear, lively voice called from the entrance.
Evan's brows rose.
That voice—
Anko?
Mitarashi Anko, his junior.
What did she want?
He turned back into his room first.
He reeked of blood—it clashed with his carefully maintained public image.
He stripped and stepped into the bath.
The water was still warm from Pakura's soak earlier, carrying her faint fragrance.
Pakura watched him with a complicated expression, clearly disgusted by the blood, but not enough to speak.
"What, your little girlfriend came to see you?"
Her tone was calm but sour.
The prisoners, silent for once, had heard the shouting from the entrance too.
No one dared make a sound.
Which only made Anko's voice echo more clearly.
"What's wrong, little Pakura?"
Evan smirked as he dried off and dressed.
"Are you jealous?"
"Heh…"
Pakura turned away, shoulders stiff.
"Don't flatter yourself."
"Good. Keep it that way."
He finished dressing and cast her a final glance before heading out.
Pakura bit her lip as she watched his back.
Too many tangled emotions churned inside her.
She would never admit it…
But somewhere in the cracks of hatred—
something else had taken root.
No.
She refused to believe it.
She only hated him.
Only hated.
At the prison gate, she was waiting.
Mitarashi Anko.
A new dessert had arrived.
"You finally came out!" Anko huffed, hands on hips.
She wore a long, battle-ready coat over a mesh undershirt, her hair tied back in a lively ponytail.
Her fair face held a mixture of impatience and a hint of pouty displeasure.
Tall.
Good lines.
Plenty of presence.
Her eyes were bright and clear—
and, in Evan's mind, radiating one thing:
Pure, unguarded stupidity.
Perfect.
In this age where half the men wore green jumpsuits and shouted about youth,
Mitarashi Anko was a very welcome change of scenery.
Though, he thought idly, she should probably eat fewer dango and fewer sweets if she wanted that figure to last.
"What brings you here?" Evan asked, pulling on his polite mask.
Honestly, he hadn't seen Anko in quite a while.
Anko puffed up her cheeks, clearly annoyed.
He made her wait this long?
Did he forget who shared her lunch with him on the battlefield?
[Anko — Hatred +10]
"…That counts?"
Evan blinked.
Women really did hold grudges over anything.
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