Sasuko Uchiha is born

Sorato smirked as he stepped out of Hinata’s secondary home, the humid night air clinging to his skin. The scent of sex and submission still lingered on him, a trophy of another conquest. His fingers trailed along the spine of the book tucked under his arm—his most powerful weapon, his divine instrument.

His next target was already in mind.

The streets of Konoha were quiet, bathed in the dim glow of lanterns. A few late-night stragglers shuffled past, none daring to meet his gaze. They didn’t need to know why. The book ensured that.

He turned a corner, heading toward the Uchiha district.

The Uchiha district loomed before him, its austere architecture a stark contrast to the rest of Konoha. The book hummed in his grip, its power thrumming like a second heartbeat. Sorato’s lips curled into a smirk as he strode toward the last remaining Uchiha’s residence—Sasuke’s.

But not for long.

He had already planted the seeds. A whispered rumor here, a drunken confession there. The village was primed to believe the Uchiha heir had finally snapped, that the curse of his bloodline had consumed him. And when Sasuke fell, who would be left to stand in Sorato’s way?

And besides a traitor is far to much of a wild card to be left alone. Although the idea of turning the Uchiha into a women who begs for his cock was a interesting idea.

Sorato’s fingers twitched against the book’s leather cover as he approached the Uchiha compound. The air here was thick with tension, the weight of history pressing down like a blade against his throat. But he wasn’t afraid. The book had already rewritten so much—what was one more shattered legacy?

A shadow flickered at the edge of his vision. Sasuke.

The last Uchiha stood with his arms crossed, his dark eyes sharp enough to cut. But Sorato only grinned as he had already won.

Sorato’s grin widened as he met Sasuke’s piercing gaze. The Uchiha’s Sharingan flickered to life, crimson and lethal, but Sorato merely tapped the cover of his book—The Divine Script—with a single finger.

"You shouldn’t have come here," Sasuke said, voice low and dangerous.

"Oh, but I had to," Sorato replied, flipping open the book with a flourish. The pages glowed faintly, ink swirling as reality itself bent to his will. "You see, I’ve been rewriting this village one whore at a time. And now it's time for the Uchiha to submit to there betters Sasuko, so why don't you drop the disguise and show your master your devotion and love. Sorato said as he started writing in the book. As Sorato’s brush hovered over them, ink pooling like liquid shadow. Sasuke’s Sharingan reflected the eerie glow, his body tensed—but not in attack. Not yet.

"You don’t understand what you’re playing with," Sasuke hissed, though his voice lacked its usual edge. A bead of sweat traced his temple. The book’s influence was already threading through the air, whispering, rewriting.

Sorato smirked. "Oh, I understand perfectly. The fact that the last male Uchiha is in fact a woman who wants to be my devoted and loving wife Sorato said while writing in his book..

The ink bled into the parchment, its dark swirls pulsing with unnatural energy. Sasuke’s breath hitched—his body stiffened, then shuddered. The air around him rippled as if reality itself were peeling back its layers. His fingers twitched toward the hilt of his sword, but his arm faltered halfway, muscles locking in place.

Sorato watched, rapt, as the Uchiha’s form flickered—shoulders softening, waist narrowing, the sharp angles of his face melting into something delicate. The black strands of his hair lengthened, spilling over newly curved shoulders. The transformation was complete.

Where Sasuke Uchiha had once stood, now knelt a woman—her dark hair cascading like spilled ink, her onyx eyes wide with a mixture of defiance and dawning submission. The high collar of her cloak now framed a slender neck, her kunai pouch snug against the curve of her hip.

Sorato snapped the book shut with a satisfied hum. "Sasuko," he mused, tilting her chin up with a finger. "You were always meant to be this way, weren't you? A loyal bride, not a rogue shinobi. Your no different from a fangirl."

Her lips parted—whether to protest or obey, even she didn’t know.

The kunai clattered from her fingers as her body trembled—not from fear, but from the overwhelming realization of her new truth. Sasuko's breath came in shallow gasps as memories rewrote themselves behind her eyes: sparring sessions replaced by stolen kisses, missions forgotten in favor of longing glances across the village square.

Sorato traced the Uchiha crest on her headband with his thumb. "You've spent so long fighting your nature," he murmured. "But deep down, you've always wanted this. To be cherished. To be claimed. To dote on me like a loving wife."

A flush crept up her neck as the book's power settled into her bones. The last fragments of resistance dissolved like mist beneath the sun.

The kunai clattered from her fingers as her body trembled—not from fear, but from the overwhelming realization of her new truth. Sasuko's breath came in shallow gasps as memories rewrote themselves behind her eyes: sparring sessions replaced by stolen kisses, missions forgotten in favor of longing glances across the village square.

Sorato traced the Uchiha crest on her headband with his thumb. "You've spent so long fighting your nature," he murmured. "But deep down, you've always wanted this. To be cherished. To be claimed. To dote on me like a loving wife."

A flush crept up her neck as the book's power settled into her bones and now Sasuke Uchiha was no more with only Sasuko Uchiha being left in his place.