Hiro didn't really care about himself even if he died no normal ninja can truely kill but that not same for Mikoto
Mikoto placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch warm and grounding. "We've done well to stay under the radar for this long.
But I understand your worries. It's only a matter of time before someone catches wind of us—whether it's Konoha, Danzo, or even worse."
Hiro's eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.
The trust they had built over the past year, forged in the fires of mutual loss and shared purpose, was something Hiro hadn't anticipated when he first found himself in this world.
Mikoto had become more than just an ally; she was the closest thing to family he had here.
Mikoto smiled, but there was a shadow in her eyes, a hint of the burden she carried as a mother, a widow, and a survivor.
The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft rustle of the wind outside. Hiro closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall, allowing himself to relax for just a moment.
But even as his body unwound, his mind raced, running through scenarios, strategies, and the endless possibilities of what the future might bring.
Mikoto's voice pulled him back from the edge of his thoughts. "Hiro… thank you."
"For what?" he asked, opening his eyes to look at her.
"For giving me hope," she replied, her voice steady but laced with emotion. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there that night.
"I thought I'd lost everything… but you've shown me that there's still something worth fighting for," she muttered.
"Mikoto," Hiro began, his voice low and earnest, "you've given me more than you realize. It's not just about survival or fighting. It's about what we have together. I care about you deeply."
Mikoto's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of hesitation crossing her features. She took a small step back, her hand withdrawing from his arm. "Hiro, I—"
Before she could finish, Hiro gently cupped her face in his hands.
He leaned in, his heart racing as he moved closer, his lips nearing hers. His eyes searched hers for any sign of resistance, but all he saw was a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.
Mikoto's breath caught in her throat, and just as their lips were about to meet, she turned her head away, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson.
"I'm… I'm an old woman," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm old enough to be your mother. This… this isn't right."
Hiro paused, his lips brushing against the side of her face. He pulled back slightly, his expression tender. "Mikoto, age doesn't change anything.
I don't care how old you are or who you are. I just know that you're the right one for me. It's not about being right or wrong; it's about how we feel and what we mean to each other."
"And if you're worried about looking old, don't be. You look like a young woman, so beautiful that you could stop men in their tracks with just a gaze."
Mikoto shook her head, her eyes still averted, her emotions a tangled mess of fear and longing. "But… I think this isn't right. It will only drag you into more trouble."
Hiro reached out, gently turning her face back towards him with a soft touch. "I'm not afraid, Mikoto. And you shouldn't be either.
We're free to do whatever we want. Don't think of anything else—you're no longer in the Uchiha clan, no longer bound by their rules."
Her eyes met his, and for a moment, the turmoil within her seemed to settle. There was a vulnerability in her gaze, a longing that mirrored his own. As she looked into his eyes, she saw the sincerity.
Finally, she closed her eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Mikoto finally gave in to the feelings she had been struggling with. She closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a tender, hesitant kiss.
Hiro's touch was gentle as he turned Mikoto's face towards him. His fingers lingered on her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips.
The moment their gazes locked, an intense connection crackled between them, electrifying the air with a mix of passion and vulnerability.
Mikoto's eyes fluttered closed, her lashes brushing against her cheeks as she surrendered to the emotions she had been fighting.
The room seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the soft rustle of the wind outside and their steady breaths.
As she leaned in, her lips brushed against Hiro's with a tender, hesitant touch. It was a gentle caress, as if she were testing the waters of their shared desire.
The initial contact was delicate, a mere whisper of sensation that sent shivers down their spines.
Hiro's lips moved slowly, gently, against hers, seeking to convey the depth of his feelings through the soft, lingering kiss.
His hands cradled her face, his thumbs tenderly tracing the contours of her jawline.
He felt the tremor in her lips, a mix of fear and anticipation, and he responded with the same careful, reverent touch.
Mikoto's breath hitched as the kiss deepened, her lips parting slightly to meet Hiro's more fully. The warmth of his mouth was soothing, a balm to her inner turmoil.
She could taste the faint hint of mint from his breath, a reminder of the closeness they shared.
As Hiro's kiss grew more insistent, it was not forceful but filled with a gentle passion.
He tilted his head to one side, his lips moving in a slow, rhythmic dance with hers. He was careful not to overwhelm her, mindful of the vulnerability she had shown.
Mikoto's hands, initially hesitant, found their way to Hiro's shoulders, gripping them lightly as if anchoring herself in this moment of connection.
Her fingers pressed into the fabric of his clothes, feeling the solid reality of him against her.
Mikoto's breath hitched as Hiro's hands traveled from her face to her shoulders, his touch firm yet gentle. His fingers slid beneath the fabric of her clothing, his touch blazing a trail of heat across her skin.
She could feel the intensity of his touch, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of her shoulders and sliding down her arms with a mixture of urgency and reverence.