Uchiha clan compound.
Because of Natsume's decision, Mikoto and the others had already moved back.
Compared to the liveliness of the past, it was much quieter now.
But they were all quite satisfied.
At least they were still alive.
Even if a few harbored disloyal thoughts, with Shisui and Izumi around, they could only bury them deep in their hearts.
Besides, Natsume's strength made them afraid to entertain any other ideas.
The current consensus was to revitalize the Uchiha clan.
It would take a long time, but there was hope.
Especially with geniuses like Shisui, Izumi, and Sasuke still around.
It wouldn't be long before, at least in reputation, they would catch up to their former glory.
"Are you full?"
Mikoto's tone was gentle, a maternal glow on her beautiful face.
"Full!"
Sasuke nodded hard.
After his mother's return, his personality had changed a little.
He wasn't as cold as before.
"That's good."
Mikoto's lips curved in a slight smile.
"I'm going to train!"
Sasuke stood up, full of fighting spirit.
His greatest wish now was that one day he could defeat Itachi and avenge his father, Uchiha Fugaku.
Once that was done, he could take care of his mother in peace and bring glory to the Uchiha clan again.
"Go on."
Mikoto reached out to rub his head. "Don't stay out too late. If you're tired, go back to your room and rest."
"Mm."
Sasuke flashed her a smile. "I'll be careful."
With that, he rose from the table and left.
Mikoto only withdrew her gaze after he disappeared from sight.
She tidied the table, washed the dishes, and returned to her room.
"Sasuke."
Mikoto opened the window.
Looking at Sasuke training in the courtyard, she sighed softly.
Bearing a blood-deep grudge was too heavy a burden for a ten-year-old child.
Even she sometimes felt extraordinarily tired.
Especially since the enemy was Itachi—
Her own son, Sasuke's older brother.
That feeling was all the more unbearable.
Sometimes Mikoto even thought: perhaps she should stop trying and let Natsume make a move.
With his strength, dealing with Itachi would be effortless.
And the price she paid would only be… At that thought, she felt lost.
Unwittingly, she seemed to have grown to like that feeling.
She no longer thought of it as a price, but as some kind of enjoyment.
Mikoto quickly shook her head, driving out her lax thoughts.
Guilt surfaced in her eyes as she looked at Sasuke.
To even have such an idea—she truly didn't deserve to be a mother.
Mikoto stood and opened the wardrobe.
She put on a black nun's habit.
Perhaps it was because of Natsume's words.
She felt that after changing into this outfit, the sins in her heart were indeed somewhat eased.
Natsume appeared in the room via Flying Thunder God.
Mikoto pressed her palms together, closed her eyes, and knelt on the tatami with a devout, solemn expression, as if in prayer.
Her legs were encased in black garter stockings, faintly showing skin tone, quite alluring.
But paired with her actions, it looked… incongruous.
Natsume tugged at the corner of his mouth.
This outfit really isn't for praying.
"What are you doing?"
Natsume stepped forward, slipped his arms under her armpits, and hugged her.
Mikoto let out an involuntary "ah."
Perhaps she hadn't noticed him and was startled.
"N-nothing."
Mikoto's face flushed slightly as she leaned into his arms.
Of course, she didn't dare tell him what she had just been thinking.
"Oh."
Natsume didn't press.
"When you met, did Sasuke awaken his eyes?"
"Three-tomoe Sharingan."
Mikoto felt herself growing hot; her earlier prayers seemed to have been in vain.
She lamented inwardly: I am truly a woman lacking in resolve.
"For his age, three tomoe is already excellent."
Natsume wasn't surprised.
Although Mikoto's ocular technique amplified emotions, it still wasn't that easy.
Awakening the Mangekyo Sharingan required a certain physical foundation.
Give it a few more years—Sasuke would likely awaken it.
"Mm."
Mikoto answered with her head lowered.
"When you see Tsunade, use Amatsumika on her once."
Natsume remembered business matters; naturally, his hands had already climbed to the summit.
"Huh?"
Mikoto instinctively raised her head in surprise.
"Um… the prerequisite for using Amatsumika on someone else is that she's already pregnant."
She didn't quite understand why Natsume wanted to deal with Tsunade, but she still offered the reminder.
Amatsumika could control her own pregnancy, but couldn't make something from nothing in another.
She only knew Natsume and Tsunade were master and disciple; she thought he had some strange idea.
At the same time, she couldn't help but worry.
Because she and Tsunade had a good relationship, she didn't want to see her in danger.
"She's pregnant."
Natsume smiled.
"What?!"
Mikoto's eyes widened. The shock even overshadowed other surging emotions.
Tsunade pregnant?
How could that be?
She had never heard of anyone Tsunade liked.
Whose was it?
Mikoto noticed Natsume's smile. Her body stiffened. Could it be his?
Bastard!
How could he do that?
Her first reaction was that Tsunade, like her, had been coerced.
"You…"
She bit her lip, hesitating to speak.
"Feels like you're thinking something impolite."
Natsume moved in front of her, pinched her chin, and studied her expression.
Hmm. There was anger, and fear.
"Tsunade isn't like you."
Natsume smiled. "She truly loves me."
Mikoto was a bit dazed.
Under the night sky, Natsume's smile was especially warm, like spring itself.
His tone carried deep affection and tenderness.
A trace of jealousy suddenly welled up in her heart.
But she quickly shook her head.
She didn't believe it.
The age gap between the two was too large.
No matter how she looked at it, it didn't feel right.
Moreover, from what she knew of Tsunade, she thought it would be very hard for her to fall in love again.
"If you don't believe it, go verify it. You have Mangekyo Sharingan—between compulsion and coercion, you should be able to tell."
Natsume stopped explaining—such things couldn't be explained clearly.
After all, Mikoto had experienced it personally and no longer believed in his character.
"Once you're sure, remember to cast Amatsumika on her."
Natsume ruffled her hair.
Mikoto nodded.
If it really was coercion, perhaps she could try to save Tsunade.
But if not, she didn't know how she should feel.
"Aunt Mikoto, by the way, awakening your eyes was your request to begin with."
Natsume suddenly realized the crux. "So why are you blaming me now?"
"…"
Mikoto was speechless.
Though Natsume wasn't wrong, she hadn't expected it to be that method of awakening.
"Sorry."
Mikoto bowed her head.
"Apologies need sincerity."
Natsume lay down on the tatami and patted his thigh. "Sit here."
Mikoto blushed again and pressed her lips together.
She stood, revealing her long, shapely legs encased in black stockings.
As her stockinged feet stepped on the floor, a faint friction sound rose.
She bent slightly; the necklace at her snow-white neck swayed side to side.
She adjusted herself and perched her pert hips on Natsume's thigh. The white skirt hem fell to the floor.
"Aunt Mikoto, do you know the story of the nun and the fish?"
Natsume looked at her somewhat tired face and asked.
"N-no."
Mikoto lightly bit her red lip and shook her head.
"Blackfish—ferocious by nature with a huge appetite. Heard of it?"
Natsume asked again.
Mikoto shook her head again.
"Then I'll show you."
Natsume's voice carried a teasing lilt as he shifted beneath her, his hands gently but firmly guiding her position. The room was dimly lit by the moonlight filtering through the window, casting soft shadows over their forms.
Mikoto's heart raced, a mix of anticipation and lingering guilt swirling within her, but the warmth of his touch began to melt away her reservations.
He started by exploring her with deliberate care, his fingers tracing the curves of her body over the fabric of her nun's habit. The material was thin, clinging to her full breasts and the gentle swell of her hips. Natsume's palms cupped her softness, kneading with a rhythm that sent shivers through her. She gasped softly as he squeezed, feeling the peaks of her breasts harden under his attention, the sensation building a slow fire in her core. His touch was insistent yet tender, roaming from her chest to her waist, pulling her closer until she was fully seated on his lap, her thighs parting slightly to accommodate him.
Mikoto's breath hitched as he began to undress her, his hands sliding up to the neckline of her habit. With a slow pull, he parted the fabric, revealing the pale, smooth skin of her shoulders and the elegant lines of her collarbone.
The garment slipped down, exposing her bare breasts—full and rounded, their rosy tips erect in the cool air. She felt exposed, vulnerable, yet a thrill of pleasure coursed through her as his eyes drank in the sight. Natsume leaned in, his lips brushing against her skin, kissing a trail from her neck to the valley between her breasts.
His hands continued their exploration, one sliding down to her thigh, fingers slipping under the hem of her skirt to caress the silky texture of her stockings.
She arched slightly, a soft moan escaping her lips as he peeled away more layers.
The habit fell to her waist, and he tugged at the skirt beneath, lifting her hips to slide it off completely. Now she sat in just her black garter stockings and the delicate undergarments that barely concealed her most intimate areas.
Natsume's fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, drawing them down her legs with agonizing slowness, revealing the soft, dark curls at the apex of her thighs and the glistening evidence of her growing arousal.
Her body trembled with a blend of embarrassment and desire, her skin flushing a deep pink.
Natsume undressed himself next, shedding his clothes with efficient grace, his toned form coming into view—broad shoulders, defined muscles, and the rigid length of his manhood, thick and pulsing with need. Mikoto's eyes widened at the sight, her earlier metaphor of the "blackfish" now vividly real before her. It stood proud, its size and firmness evoking that ferocious appetite he had described, ready to claim her.
He positioned her carefully, guiding her to straddle him fully on the tatami. His hands roamed again, groping her breasts with renewed fervor, thumbs circling the sensitive buds while his other hand slipped between her thighs.
Fingers explored her folds, parting the slick warmth and teasing the pearl at her center.
Mikoto's head fell back, waves of pleasure radiating from his touch. She felt herself yielding, her body responding with a rush of heat and wetness that made her ache for more.
Satisfaction bloomed in her chest as he whispered encouragements, his voice low and reassuring, affirming the beauty of her surrender.
As their bodies aligned, Natsume entered her slowly, inch by inch, filling her with his girth.
The sensation was exquisite—a deep, stretching fullness that made her gasp and cling to his shoulders. She rocked against him, her hips moving in tandem with his thrusts, each motion building a symphony of pleasure. Her inner walls clenched around him, drawing him deeper, while his hands gripped her hips, guiding the rhythm.
The friction sparked electric tingles through her nerves, her breaths coming in ragged bursts as ecstasy mounted.
They moved together for what felt like an eternity, the scene unfolding in layers of intimacy.
Natsume's lips captured hers in a passionate kiss, tongues dancing as his hands continued to caress and grope—squeezing her breasts, tracing the curve of her back, and occasionally slipping down to where they were joined, heightening her sensations.
Mikoto felt waves of delight crashing over her, her body alive with satisfaction, every touch erasing the day's burdens. She lost herself in the rhythm, her moans growing louder, muffled against his skin.
The pleasure built relentlessly, coiling tight within her until it shattered in a powerful orgasm. Her body convulsed, inner muscles fluttering around him as ecstasy flooded her senses, leaving her trembling and breathless. Natsume held her through it, his own pace quickening, drawing out her bliss with steady, deep strokes. She rode the aftershocks, a profound sense of fulfillment washing over her, her mind hazy with contentment.
He wasn't done yet; with gentle insistence, he shifted their positions, laying her back on the tatami and settling between her legs.
Entering her again, he thrust with renewed vigor, his manhood delving into her welcoming depths.
Mikoto wrapped her stockinged legs around him, pulling him closer, her hands roaming his back as pleasure surged anew.
The intimacy deepened, their bodies slick with sweat, the air filled with the soft sounds of their union.
Another peak approached for her, this one even more intense. She cried out softly as orgasm claimed her once more, her essence pulsing around him in rhythmic waves.
Natsume followed soon after, his release flooding her in a warm rush, filling her completely with his seed—a creampie that left her feeling utterly claimed and satisfied. He remained inside her for a lingering moment, their breaths mingling as the afterglow enveloped them.
Night fell fully, the room quiet save for their contented sighs. Perhaps because she had been so thoroughly sated, Mikoto felt a deep sense of peace, her earlier hunger transformed into a profound, lingering warmth.
…
Natsume returned to the Land of Snow.
"Lady Goddess, it's so late—aren't you going to rest?"
Natsume pushed open the door and entered the study.
"Waiting for you."
Kaguya lifted her head and glanced at him, her tone cool.
Natsume felt a twinge of guilt.
He stepped forward, just about to speak, when Kaguya reached out and smoothed the collar he had inadvertently wrinkled from Mikoto.
"Look at this."
She withdrew her hand and handed him a book.
Natsume skimmed it and was surprised—it was about the Son of the Land of Ancestors.
More precisely, about him.
It said the Son of the Land of Ancestors pacified the ancient age of chaos and personally entrusted the shinobi world to the Sage of Six Paths, opening an era of prosperity.
But it didn't mention Kaguya.
That wasn't the Sage's fault.
It was at Natsume's instruction.
Mainly, he feared causing a butterfly effect.
Strictly speaking, even the Son of the Land of Ancestors shouldn't be mentioned.
Why?
Natsume thought perhaps Hagoromo felt guilty.
After all, he missed calling him "father."
Ahem.
No matter. I'll make it up to you.
One day I'll go to the Pure Land and help you fulfill that dream.
Thinking of that scene, Natsume couldn't help but smile.
Kaguya watched him, the corner of her mouth faintly curving.
"Um… without you, Lady Goddess—please don't be offended."
Natsume came back to himself, noticed her gaze, and quickly said, "One day, the shinobi world will know your deeds."
"It's meaningless."
Kaguya shook her head. She didn't care about empty fame.
Her goals were pure: plant the Tree and become stronger.
Natsume knew her temperament and dropped the topic. "It's late. Lady Goddess, please rest."
"I don't need rest."
Kaguya sat back at the desk and picked up another book.
Clearly, she found this new world intriguing.
Natsume thought for a moment and left the study.
Moments later, he returned with a coat.
"Lady Goddess, it's cool at night."
He draped it over her shoulders and lightly smoothed her silvery hair.
Kaguya looked up, snow-white eyes gazing at him.
She wouldn't feel cold.
But why did she feel a genuine warmth?
A faint confusion colored her fair face.
"What is it?"
Seeing her stare, Natsume was puzzled.
"Go to sleep."
Kaguya set down the book, stood, took his hand, and led him back to the room.
"Lady Goddess, you rest. I'll take my leave."
Natsume didn't understand her sudden change of mind, but he was quite self-aware.
"Will you stay with me?"
Kaguya said expressionlessly, "The book said people who like each other can sleep together."
Which book are you talking about?
Nicely done!
Natsume hesitated a few seconds. "Wouldn't that be improper? I'm only a servant."
"But I like you."
Kaguya delivered a heart-stirring confession in the coldest tone.
Natsume froze.
Then he felt a little amused.
Kaguya hugged him to sleep—and that was it.
They didn't even take off their clothes.
Natsume ground his teeth. Who wrote that book? Damn it, did they only write half?
In my previous life, readers would've cursed them.
Axed!
Still, Natsume had been through two "great battles" tonight, so he wasn't too upset.
He pressed his cheek to Kaguya's—soft, slightly cool, different from humans.
It made him think of a yokai called Yuki Onna.
…
Morning.
Natsume woke.
He started; Kaguya was hugging him tightly.
No wonder he felt a bit short of breath.
He almost flashed back to years ago, when Tsunade used him as a body pillow.
Natsume stared at Kaguya's serene face.
After a moment, her long lashes fluttered and her snow-white eyes opened.
Her lips pressed together slightly—she had slept very well last night.
Perhaps because she had a warm pillow.
New and curious.
Kaguya reached out, pinched his cheek, then kissed his forehead.
After breakfast, Natsume returned to Konoha.
Tsunade still hadn't woken.
Natsume's three years of longing were a bit much.
She was exhausted.
Most importantly, she wanted to sleep in.
With Natsume back, she could happily slack off and not manage Konoha.
"Are you getting up?"
Natsume asked softly.
"…"
Tsunade's beautiful sleeping face didn't change in the slightest.
Natsume left the room.
"Shizune, please prepare breakfast for Tsunade in a bit."
"Mm."
Shizune nodded reflexively, then blushed.
Is Lady Tsunade… out of stamina again?