Chapter 22: Chapter 22
"Tell me to stop," Souta said, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. "And I will."
Mikoto parted her lips, but no words came out.
Because she didn't want him to.
A beat of silence. Then another.
Her fingers, of their own accord, curled slightly against his.
Souta's lips quirked at the smallest movement, his grip firming just enough to tell her he noticed. He raised their joined hands, brushing his thumb along the delicate skin of her wrist before pressing a lingering kiss against it.
Mikoto felt the touch like a brand.
She should walk away now.
But she wouldn't.
The next morning, Mikoto stood in front of her mirror, brushing her fingers absentmindedly over her wrist. The sensation of Souta's lips lingered there. She scoffed at herself, shaking her head before pulling on her outer robe.
It was foolish. Reckless. Yet, she hadn't pulled away. And that bothered her more than anything.
By the time she arrived at the tea shop, she had schooled her expression into its usual calm, unreadable mask. Souta, as expected, was already behind the counter, lazily cleaning a teacup. His eyes flickered to her as she stepped inside, but he said nothing—just smirked slightly before returning to his task.
Kushina was there too, arms crossed, drumming her fingers against the table. She perked up at the sight of Mikoto. "Finally, someone normal."
Mikoto arched an eyebrow, taking a seat beside her. "Is something wrong?"
"Him." Kushina jabbed a finger toward Souta. "He's being weird."
Mikoto glanced at Souta, who only shrugged. "I'm always weird."
"No, not like that." Kushina frowned, tapping her chin. "You're avoiding me."
Mikoto blinked. She hadn't expected that.
Souta sighed dramatically. "You wound me, Kushina. Maybe I just appreciate a little mystery."
Kushina narrowed her eyes. "Bull. You've been acting strange for days. And Mikoto—" She turned her sharp gaze to her friend. "You've been kinda off, too. Something's going on, and I don't like being left out."
Mikoto tensed for only a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Kushina to catch. She leaned in closer, her suspicion growing. "Wait. You two—"
"Relax." Souta slid a cup of tea in front of her, cutting off her words. "You're overthinking again."
Kushina huffed but took a sip, watching them both closely. Mikoto kept her expression neutral, but she could feel the weight of Souta's gaze even as she avoided looking at him directly.
The silence stretched a beat too long. Then, Kushina grinned. "Pfft, I'm just messing with you guys. What, did you think I was serious?" She let out a laugh and leaned back in her chair. "Like Mikoto would ever go for a guy like you, Souta."
Later that evening, Mikoto found herself walking alone. She hadn't intended to go to the river, but her feet carried her there before she could stop herself. She hesitated at the tree line, half-expecting to see him waiting.
But he wasn't there.
She sighed, arms wrapping around herself. Maybe t his was for the best. She needed distance. Clarity.
Then, behind her—
"You're late."
Her breath hitched. She turned to see Souta leaning against a tree, arms crossed, smirking as if he'd been expecting her all along.
Mikoto exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "I wasn't coming."
Souta pushed off the tree, stepping closer. "And yet, here you are."
Mikoto held her ground, even as he closed the distance. "You think too much of yourself."
"Maybe." He studied her, eyes flickering with amusement—and something else. "Or maybe I just know you better than you'd like to admit."
Mikoto's pulse quickened, but she didn't let it show. "This game of yours…"
"Who says it's a game?" His voice was lower now, smooth and knowing.
Mikoto exhaled through her nose. "Then what is it?"
Souta tilted his head, considering. "A challenge, perhaps."
Mikoto scoffed lightly. "And what exactly are you challenging?"
Souta stepped even closer, enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. "You."
Mikoto's fingers twitched. She should push him away. Say something sharp to cut through this moment before it soli dified into something she couldn't ignore. But she hesitated.
And Souta noticed.
His smirk softened, his voice dropping just above a whisper. "Tell me to stop."
Mikoto opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Souta's gaze searched hers, waiting, always waiting.
Mikoto exhaled slowly, then stepped back—not in retreat, but in control. "Goodnight, Souta."
His smirk widened, but he didn't follow. "Goodnight, Mikoto."
As she walked away, she could feel his eyes on her back, the heat of his presence still lingering.
And she knew—this wasn't over.
Mikoto exhaled slowly, then closed her eyes for a brief moment before reopening them. "You always push boundaries, don't you?"
"And you always pretend not to notice."
She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "Maybe I just don't react the way you expect."
"Maybe," he conceded, tilting his head slightly. "Or maybe you react exactly how I expect, but you don't want to admit it."
Mikoto rolled her eyes but didn't step away. Instead, she crossed her arms and looked at him carefully. "This isn't a game I can play, Souta."
He studied her, expression unreadable. "Who said anything about playing?"
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of the river and rustling leaves filled the air, a stark contrast to the tension hovering between them.
Then Mikoto sighed. "I should go."
"You always say that," Souta murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you always stay a little longer."
Mikoto froze, her fingers tightening against her arms. He wasn't wrong.
Taking a step back, she finally tore her gaze away. "Good night, Souta."
She turned, walking away before she could change her mind. Souta didn't stop her, didn't call her back. But as she disappeared into the trees, he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head to himself.
"Going Good.... Love You Mikoto"