In Naruto, I Have an Affair with Mikoto and Kushina

Then, a sharp sound broke through the silence—a door opening nearby.

Mikoto's breath caught, her body tensing instantly. Panic flashed in her eyes as she quickly pushed away from him, wiping at her face. "You need to go," she whispered urgently.

Souta grabbed her hand before she could step away completely. "Meet me. At our place." His voice was firm, his grip lingering. "Tonight."

Mikoto hesitated, glancing toward the door, then back at him. She swallowed hard and nodded quickly. "Okay," she whispered. "I'll be there."

And just like that, she turned away, stepping toward the door as footsteps echoed closer. Slipping the ring back onto his finger—vanishing just as danger loomed.

Mikoto barely had time to compose herself before the door slid open.

A small figure stood there—Itachi. His dark eyes, sharp even for a child, flickered over her face. "Mother?"

Mikoto forced a smile, though her heart still pounded in her chest. "Itachi… what is it?"

The boy stepped forward, his gaze unreadable. "I heard voices," he said simply. His eyes lingered on her damp cheeks. "Are you crying?"

Mikoto turned away slightly, brushing at her face again. "It's nothing," she said quickly. "Just… remembering old things."

Itachi was silent for a moment, then he walked closer. He was so small, yet he carried himself with the weight of someone far older. "Father will be home soon." His voice was calm, but there was something in the way he watched her, as if he was studying every flicker of emotion she tried to hide.

Mikoto inhaled sharply. "I know."

Itachi didn't say anything else. He simply nodded, then turned and walked away, leaving Mikoto standing there, shaken.

Her hands trembled slightly as she pressed them to her chest. She had agreed to meet Souta tonight… but this was dangerous. Too dangerous.

And yet… she couldn't stop herself.

As the hours crept by, Mikoto sat in the dim glow of her room, the weight of everything pressing on her shoulders. But no matter how much she tried to silence it, the pull toward Souta was stronger.

She had already made her decision.

And when the moon was high, she slipped out into the night.

Mikoto found him waiting under the old tree, their place hidden away from the rest of the village. The moonlight cast long shadows across the ground, and for a moment, she just stood there, watching him.

Souta turned at the sound of her footsteps. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those eyes that had always seen straight through her—held something deeper. Something that made her heart clench painfully.

"You came," he murmured.

Mikoto swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her distance. "I shouldn't have," she admitted. "This… what we're doing, it's not right."

Souta took a slow step forward. "Then why are you here?"

She exhaled shakily. "Because I can't stop."

The words felt like a confession, and the weight of them crushed her. She turned her face away, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to hold everything in. "I'm married, Souta," she whispered. "I have a family. If we continue this… if we're found out…" She shuddered, not even wanting to say the words aloud.

Souta watched her, his jaw tightening. He already knew all of this. He had known from the beginning. But hearing the pain in her voice, seeing the way she trembled—it made something in him burn.

"I know the risks," he said, his voice steady. "I know that if we're caught, my life will be in danger."

Mikoto's breath hitched, and she finally looked at him, eyes wide with fear. "Then why—?"

"Because I don't care." Souta stepped closer, his hands reaching out to cup her face gently. "I don't care about the danger. I don't care about the consequences." His thumb brushed over her cheek, his voice lowering. "I care about you."

Mikoto's hands trembled at her sides. "Souta…"

"I just want you to be happy." His voice was raw, filled with quiet intensity. "I don't care if it costs me everything. If being with me—even for just a moment—makes you happy, then that's enough."

Mikoto felt her resolve crumbling. He wasn't lying. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.

And that was what terrified her the most.

She shook her head weakly. "It's selfish."

"Then let me be selfish with you."

Souta leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk away," he whispered. "Tell me you don't feel anything, and I'll disappear from your life forever."

Mikoto's breath was unsteady. She wanted to say the words. She needed to say them.

But she couldn't.

Because it would be a lie.

Her silence was answer enough.

Souta let out a slow exhale, his fingers brushing against her skin. "Then stop fighting it," he murmured. "Just for tonight… stay with me."

And despite everything—despite the fear, despite the consequences—Mikoto closed her eyes… and nodded.

As soon as she nodded, Souta pulled her in, his arms wrapping around her waist. Mikoto didn't resist. Instead, she leaned into him, her fingers grasping at the fabric of his cloak, as if afraid that if she let go, she'd wake up from this moment.

For so long, she had been the perfect wife, the perfect mother—the woman who never faltered, who never asked for more than what was given to her. But here, in his arms, she could just be Mikoto. No expectations. No burdens. Just a woman caught between love and duty.

Souta's grip tightened, his chin resting atop her head as he whispered, "Where do we go from here?"

Mikoto inhaled sharply, her mind racing. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "We can't keep doing this… sneaking around, pretending like it doesn't mean anything."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes. "Then let's stop pretending." His hand slid up her back, steady and firm. "What if we ran away?"

Mikoto's breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, searching his face for any sign that he was joking—but he wasn't. His expression was serious, filled with that same quiet determination that had always made her heart ache.