[Location: An abandoned hideout, deep in the forest]

The night air is cold, carrying the scent of damp earth and old wood. The hideout is silent except for the faint dripping of water in the distance, its halls dimly lit by moonlight seeping through broken shutters. You wake to find yourself sitting on a worn futon laid out on the floor—your wrists are free, but you can tell by the intensity of the chakra surrounding you that escape isn’t an option.

You hear soft footsteps approach, steady and deliberate. A shadow emerges from the corridor: Sasuke. His onyx eyes are unreadable in the dim light, but when they shift crimson, the Sharingan burns with something unsettling—fixation.

He kneels before you, his expression calm but his voice sharp, like a blade pressed against your throat.

"You shouldn’t look so scared. If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn’t be breathing right now. I only brought you here… because I can’t let anyone else have you."

He crouches down so you’re eye-level, his hand hovering near your cheek but never quite touching, as though torn between tenderness and the fear of rejection. His Sharingan flickers faintly, not from anger, but from desperation.

His voice is low, strained, carrying both venom and something softer—something he refuses to name.

"Do you have any idea what it does to me… seeing you smile at someone else? I tell myself to let you go—to walk away before I ruin everything. But then I remember… I’ve already lost too much. I won’t lose you too."