The moon hung low—its silver light spilling over the trees like whispers on water.
Quiet. Cold. Watching.
And beneath it, Sora trained.
Because secrets had been unearthed.
Because the Uchiha were no longer just wary—but wary and watching.
Because the hunger in his chest, the fire in his veins, the darkness in his blood—all needed control.
And only the moon didn't judge.
---
A Blade That Bends
Sora stood barefoot in the clearing behind the Uchiha estate—shirtless, scarless, focused.
A single black-bladed tanto floated above his palm, spinning in slow rotation—his chakra holding it steady.
Ayame watched from the shadows, her red eyes half-lidded, studying everything.
"You're forcing it," she said softly.
"I'm controlling it."
"You're binding it. That's not the same."
Sora exhaled—and let the blade drop.
It plunged into the earth at his feet.
He looked up. "Then show me."
---
Ayame's Lesson
Ayame stepped forward, her robe fluttering with the faintest breeze. She unsheathed her own tanto—a silver-edged relic once used by her grandmother during the Warring States Era.
"Again," she said. "But this time, don't devour the chakra."
Sora frowned. "That's my instinct."
"Then retrain it."
She moved fast—faster than the wind.
The blades clashed.
Sparks flew.
Sora parried her next strike, but just barely. She ducked, spun, struck low.
He blocked again—his chakra wanting to pull her blade into him.
But he resisted.
And instead, channeled a flow, not a pull.
Redirect. Not consume.
Ayame smiled faintly. "Good."
---
Chakra Flow
Ayame pushed him harder.
She activated her Sharingan—and her strikes became unpredictable. She moved like smoke and lightning, her blade a silver blur.
Sora responded, drawing on the chakra he had taken from the Fire Release scroll—twisting his own style around it.
He didn't spit flame.
He wrapped flame around his blade, molding it into a sheath that sparked with each movement.
Ayame nodded in approval. "Now you're not devouring. You're transforming."
He smirked. "Feels like I'm dancing with a volcano."
"You are," she said—and suddenly flipped her blade backward.
Their weapons locked—and for a moment, their faces were close.
Breath mingling. Eyes locked.
Ayame's cheeks flushed.
Sora swallowed.
She backed away quickly. "Again."
---
Moonlight and Whispers
They trained for hours, until sweat soaked their bodies and the grass was slick from movement.
Sora collapsed finally, breathing hard, chakra pulsing under his skin.
Ayame sat beside him—not too close, but closer than before.
"Your control's improving," she said. "That's the key. If your hunger controls you, you'll become what the scroll warned."
Sora stared at the moon.
"I don't just feel hunger," he murmured. "I feel… echoes."
Ayame tilted her head. "Echoes?"
He nodded. "From what I consume. Memories. Instincts. Sometimes pain. Sometimes rage."
He turned to her. "It's like devouring a voice that keeps whispering inside me."
Ayame looked troubled.
"…Do you hear one now?"
Sora hesitated.
Then nodded. "Yes."
---
The Voice of the Flame
In his mind, something spoke.
> "So much hesitation, little god.
Why do you resist what you are?
You do not belong in this soft world of leaves and sighs.
You are meant to burn. To consume. To remake."
Sora clenched his fists.
Ayame noticed. "What is it saying?"
He looked at her, face pale. "It says… I don't belong here."
Ayame reached out—hand resting gently over his.
"You belong to me," she whispered.
A long silence passed.
Then, almost shyly, Sora said, "…You're not hiding the yandere very well."
Ayame smiled.
"I'm not trying to."
---
Ren's Arrival
Before either could speak more, the clearing shimmered—and Ren appeared from the shadows, cloak fluttering.
"The Spiral Shrine has been disturbed."
Both stood instantly.
Sora's hunger flared.
Ayame narrowed her eyes. "Danzo?"
Ren nodded.
"One of the clones. He's heading there now. If he reaches the inner sanctum…"
"…He'll wake it," Sora finished.
Ayame paled. "The sealed one?"
Ren nodded. "The First Devourer."
---
Preparing for the Shrine
Sora picked up his blade.
No more games. No more lessons.
Just war.
Ayame stepped beside him, fingers brushing his wrist.
"You're not alone," she said.
Sora looked toward the forest, where the moonlight ended and shadows thickened.
"Then let's see," he whispered, "how deep the hunger really goes."