Yugito's throat stung, but her eyes stayed fierce.
She pulled at the cuffs on her wrists again, more out of habit than hope. No give. No chakra. Just heavy metal and the cold truth sinking in.
Her voice was low, scratchy.
"Who are you?"
Silence.
Hieta didn't move.
"I said, who the hell are you?"
Nothing.
He just stared, like she was a bug in a jar. No anger. No smile. No feeling at all.
That made it worse.
Yugito leaned forward, teeth showing. "You think I won't remember you? You think when they catch you, you'll die easy?"
No answer.
Instead, Hieta stepped closer.
She tensed, jaw tight, ready for pain. But it didn't come.
His hand moved slowly—cold, steady—and touched her chin. Not hard. Not soft. Just sure.
He tilted her face up.
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't look away.
"I'll kill you," she whispered.
His face didn't change.
"I'll find a way. Even if I have to claw through this floor with my nails."
Still nothing.
His hand stayed steady. He didn't need to squeeze.
He leaned closer, her breath showing faintly in his eyes.
The quiet stretched.
Then he let go.
Turned.
Walked away.
Yugito breathed hard, chest rising—not from tiredness, but rage.
"Coward," she spat.
He paused at the door. His fingers tapped the frame once.
Then he spoke—low, flat, like a machine.
One Month Later
Hieta hadn't left the bunker in thirty-one days.
Not once.
Not even for air.
The vents worked. Supplies were piled high. Water recycled. Food stored. He'd planned this long before taking her.
Because if Yugito's chakra sparked—even for a second—the Eight-Tails would know.
And everything would fall apart.
So he stayed hidden.
The Dead Zone around him had grown—slowly, quietly. The system screen now read:
[ Chakra Interference Field: 20.2 meters (Active) ]
Twenty meters of nothing.
Enough to erase Yugito's presence, even if she tried to send a signal.
The system didn't explain why the range was growing. But it was. Like a muscle getting stronger.
Hieta didn't ask why.
He just adjusted.
Yugito hadn't spoken in six days.
Not since she tried to bite his hand when he offered water.
She barely ate. Just enough to stay awake. Her body was thinner now.
He didn't chain her anymore.
She was too weak to fight. And even if she tried, his system watched.
[ Reversal Edge: Ready ]
[ Void Pressure: Locked ] [
Passive Unlock Progress – Anti-Life Core: 83% ]
That last one grew every time he got hurt.
Or when she tried to hurt him.
The room smelled of cold stone and rusty metal. Water dripped in the vents. Always the same.
Yugito sat against the wall, arms over her knees, wrists red from old struggles.
The air was thick, heavy with damp. The silence sank deep.
Hieta crouched by the far wall, sorting supplies—stacking a crate, checking dates, folding a blanket with perfect care.
Yugito watched him, like always. Silent.
He didn't look at her.
Didn't act like she was there.
Just kept moving.
Then, quietly—almost to himself—he mumbled:
"…another month should do it."
The words hung too long.
Yugito blinked.
She sat up a little, slow, careful.
"What did you say?"
Hieta didn't answer right away. His hands kept working, taping a box shut.
"I said another month."
A pause.
"For what?" Her voice was sharp now.
He stood, pulled off his gloves, and glanced at her—just a quick look.
Then back to the crate.
He didn't rush. Didn't brag. Just spoke plain.
"2 tails," he said. "Another month like this, and the bond starts to break."
Yugito stared.
She almost laughed—a dry, shocked sound stuck in her throat.
"No way."
"No chakra. No contact. No balance," Hieta said, voice even. "Tailed beasts aren't just ideas. They're chakra. The bond matters."
He looked at her again, eyes empty.
"You're cut off in a null field. No flow. No connection. You think Matatabi can last forever like that?"
She didn't answer.
Because for the first time since he took her—she wasn't sure.
Her link to Matatabi was quiet. Gone. Empty.
Hieta saw the doubt in her eyes.
Good.
He walked to a table, filled a tin bowl with water and cold rice. Clean, but plain.
He didn't hand it to her. Just set it a few steps away and sat against the opposite wall.
"That's not how jinchūriki work," she muttered, mostly to herself.
Hieta didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
The silence let the thought dig deeper.
What if he was right?
What if she wasn't just blocked?
What if Matatabi was slipping away?
She clenched her fists under the blanket, nails biting her palms.
She wouldn't ask again.
But she wouldn't sleep that night.
Hieta knew it.
Four Days Later
The room was the same.
Same walls. Same chains. Same cold.
But today, something felt off.
Hieta walked closer. Slow. Quiet.
Yugito sat in her usual spot—back to the wall, wrists chained, ankles locked. She watched him, saying nothing.
He stopped in front of her.
Then, suddenly, he grabbed her waist.
She jerked, trying to pull away, but the chains held her. His grip was strong. Sure.
He leaned down.
She opened her mouth—maybe to curse, maybe to fight.
But he kissed her.
Hard.
His lips pressed against hers, rough and fierce. Yugito's eyes widened. She tried to turn away, to push him, but her hands were bound. Her legs kicked, but it didn't matter.
He didn't stop.
Her breath caught. It wasn't soft. It wasn't kind. It was control.
When he pulled back, she was breathing fast. Not from want—but from fury.
She glared at him. Eyes blazing.
Then she turned her head and wiped her mouth on her shoulder.
"Happy now?" she said, voice icy.
Taunting.
Hieta didn't wait.
He stepped closer, leaned down, and grabbed her again—one arm under her knees, the other behind her back. He lifted her.
Yugito's hands pushed weakly at his chest.
"Put me down," she snapped.
He didn't.
She squirmed, trying to kick, but her strength was gone.
He carried her across the room like she was nothing.
She glanced over his shoulder—and froze.
A hidden door was open.
Warm light poured out.
Not another cell.
A bed. A table. A shelf with blankets. A soft lamp.
She blinked.
No chains.
No stone floor.
He stepped inside, still holding her.
Then, gently, he set her on the bed.
Yugito pushed herself up, but her body was weak.
"What's this?" she asked, voice flat.
Hieta stood by the bed. Calm. Still.
"You'll stay here now," he said.