Harry sat alone in the grand sitting room of his mansion, the lively atmosphere repced with an unfamiliar silence. The parties continued as usual, the music pyed, and women still came and went, but something was missing—a quiet, nagging void he couldn’t shake. For the first time in years, Harry found himself distracted, his mind drifting to someone who had become a constant presence in his life over the past six months.

  Mikoto.

  He had always known she was a shinobi, sent by her vilge to watch him. It was obvious from the moment she walked into his mansion, her movements precise, her eyes constantly scanning, her demeanor professional even as she pyed the role of an unassuming servant. He had allowed her to stay not because he was fooled by her act, but because she fascinated him. Through legilimency, he had learned much about chakra, the intricacies of the ninja arts, and the culture of shinobi—all by quietly probing her mind over time. Mikoto had been a treasure trove of knowledge, and Harry had used her presence to his advantage.

  But over those six months, she had become more than a source of information. Mikoto had been his companion, someone who didn’t just flit in and out of his life like so many others. She had shared his travels, ughed at his jokes, and challenged his perspectives in ways no one else had. Her sharp wit, her strength, her unwavering loyalty to her duty—these were qualities that had quietly woven themselves into his life.

  And now, she was gone.

  Harry leaned back in his chair, swirling a gss of wine in his hand as he stared at the ceiling. He had known this day would come. He had always understood that Mikoto’s stay was temporary, that her loyalty y with Konoha and not with him. Yet, her departure left a void he hadn’t anticipated. Unlike the other women who stayed for a night or two, Mikoto had been there every day for six months. She had become part of his world, and her absence was jarring.

  He sighed, setting the gss down on the table and running a hand through his hair. "Damn it, Mikoto," he muttered under his breath. "You were supposed to be just another piece of the game."

  But she wasn’t. Somewhere along the way, she had become more. Her presence had brought a sense of stability, a connection that he hadn’t realized he craved until it was gone. Harry found himself repying moments in his mind—her ugh, the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, the quiet strength she exuded even when surrounded by opulence and chaos.

  The mansion felt different without her, colder, emptier. For all his wealth, power, and the endless parade of admirers, Harry couldn’t shake the realization that Mikoto had given him something none of them could: companionship that felt genuine, even amidst the lies.

  For the first time in a long time, Harry felt the weight of longing. He missed her—not just her beauty, but her presence, her sharp mind, her ability to challenge and intrigue him. And as much as he hated to admit it, he realized how comfortable he had become with her by his side.

  Harry let out a bitter chuckle, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "So, this is what I get for letting someone stay longer than they should," he said to himself.

  But deep down, he knew it wasn’t just about time. Mikoto had become a part of him, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

  Harry threw himself into his work, spending most of his time training, experimenting with chakra, and pushing the boundaries of what was possible. The void left by Mikoto’s departure had reignited his drive, but it was different now—fueled not just by his thirst for power, but by a need to fill the emptiness her absence had created. He buried himself in his training, channeling his emotions into refining his skills and inventing new techniques that merged magic and chakra in ways that no one had ever imagined.

  The reason Mikoto had never witnessed any of this during her six-month stay was simple: Harry had trained in the privacy of his enchanted trunk. This pocket dimension, imbued with powerful time dition magic, was his sanctuary, a space where he could work for hours while only minutes passed in the outside world. The trunk held everything he needed—a fully equipped b, training grounds, and even environments simuted to challenge his skills in unique ways.

  While he trained, Harry used a carefully crafted Wood Release clone to remain in the mansion, pretending to be him. The clone fwlessly mimicked his mannerisms, engaging with guests, attending parties, and maintaining the carefree persona he had cultivated. To Mikoto and everyone else, Harry appeared to be the same indulgent and unmotivated figure he always was, with no sign of the intense training and experimentation happening just beneath the surface.

  Inside the trunk, Harry worked tirelessly. His mastery of Wood Release had grown exponentially, and he began combining it with magic to create constructs that defied traditional shinobi limitations. He experimented with fusing chakra and magical elements, crafting techniques that blended the raw destructive power of magic with the precision and control of ninjutsu.

  One of his favorite inventions was a magical-enhanced version of the Wood Dragon Technique. By infusing the dragon with magical wards and runes, he created a living construct capable of absorbing not just chakra but magical energy as well, rendering it an unstoppable force against both shinobi and wizards.

  He also refined his ability to manipute his own genetics, working on stabilizing the other bloodlines he had acquired, such as the Sharingan and the Byakugan, while preparing to add new ones. He perfected techniques that would allow him to unlock the full potential of these abilities, blending their powers seamlessly with his magic.

  Harry’s isotion in the trunk wasn’t just about training—it was a way to cope. The routines, the experimentation, and the constant challenge of pushing his limits became his soce, a way to keep his mind occupied and avoid dwelling on Mikoto’s absence.

  Even as he made groundbreaking strides in his training, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder what Mikoto would think if she had known the truth. Would she have been impressed? Intrigued? Or would she have seen him as the enigma she had initially been sent to investigate?

  These thoughts lingered in the back of his mind, but Harry pushed them aside, focusing on his work. He knew that the world outside was full of challenges, and he intended to be ready for anything it could throw at him. For now, the mansion remained as lively as ever, with Harry—or rather, his clone—continuing to py the role of the hedonistic pyboy. But beneath the surface, in the depths of his magical trunk, Harry was preparing for something far greater.

  Mikoto had returned to Konoha, but her heart had been left behind in the Fire Capital. Despite following the Hokage's orders and resuming her duties as a shinobi, she felt as though she were merely going through the motions. Her life, once a well-ordered existence of duty and discipline, now felt hollow and incomplete.

  Her family noticed it first. Her father often gave her questioning gnces during meals, clearly unsettled by her uncharacteristic quiet. Her friends in the Uchiha cn and the shinobi ranks tried to cheer her up, but nothing worked. Sparring didn’t ignite the same fire it once did. Missions felt dull and repetitive.

  But it was Kushina Uzumaki, her closest friend, who truly noticed how deep the problem ran. Kushina’s fiery personality couldn’t tolerate seeing Mikoto so miserable, and after days of trying—and failing—to cheer her up, she finally confronted her.

  “Alright, Mikoto!” Kushina barked one afternoon as they sat alone beneath a tree in the training grounds. Her red hair fred like fmes as she pointed an accusatory finger at her friend. “Enough of this! I can’t take seeing you like this anymore! What the hell is going on with you?”

  Mikoto sighed, her shoulders slumping as she gazed at her hands. For a moment, she considered brushing it off, but one look at Kushina’s furious, concerned expression made her realize she couldn’t keep this to herself any longer.

  “Kushina…” Mikoto started softly, her voice shaking just slightly. “I—I fell in love with someone. During my mission in the Fire Capital.”

  Kushina’s eyes widened slightly, her brows furrowing as she processed this. “Someone? What do you mean, someone? Who? What happened?”

  Mikoto took a deep breath and began to recount everything: how she had been sent to spy on Hari Pottaru, how she had lived in his mansion for six months under the guise of Hitomi Nagashi, how she had been pulled into his world of comfort, charm, and freedom. She told Kushina how Harry had treated her not as a kunoichi or as an Uchiha heiress, but simply as a woman. And, more importantly, she expined how she had grown to love him—not just for the life he offered, but for who he was.

  By the time Mikoto finished, Kushina was gaping at her, utterly stunned. “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, holding up her hands. “You’re telling me that you fell for this guy while you were spying on him, and you’re still hung up on him? That’s why you’re walking around like a ghost?”

  Mikoto nodded, unable to meet Kushina’s eyes. “I didn’t expect it to happen. I was just… comfortable with him. I haven’t felt like that in so long, Kushina. But I had to come back. I couldn’t disobey the Hokage.”

  For a moment, Kushina was silent, processing everything her friend had said. Then, to Mikoto’s surprise, Kushina jumped to her feet, hands on her hips, and gred down at her.

  “That’s it, then! You’re going back to him.”

  Mikoto blinked, startled. “What?”

  “You heard me!” Kushina said, her voice loud and unyielding. “You love him, right? And clearly you’re miserable here. So go back to him! Tell him who you really are. Tell him everything, and ask him to come live in Konoha.”

  Mikoto stared at her friend, stunned into silence. “Kushina… I can’t just do that.”

  “Why the hell not?!” Kushina shouted, crossing her arms. “You’re not a prisoner here, Mikoto. You’re miserable, and you deserve to be happy. If this Hari guy means that much to you, then go confess to him. If he really cares about you, he’ll come. You don’t know until you try!”

  Mikoto opened her mouth to protest, but Kushina cut her off with a gre. “Look, I know you’re scared. But think about it: You’ve spent six months with this guy. That’s longer than anyone else you’ve mentioned. He clearly kept you around for a reason. If he didn’t care about you, he wouldn’t have let you stay by his side.”

  Mikoto’s heart pounded in her chest as Kushina’s words struck a chord. Could it really be that simple? She had convinced herself that returning to Harry would be impossible, that he would see her as a liar, a kunoichi who had been using him. But Kushina’s blunt logic pierced through her doubts.

  “Kushina…” Mikoto said softly, her voice trembling. “What if he says no? What if he doesn’t want me back?”

  Kushina crouched down to meet her at eye level, her expression softening. “Then at least you’ll know you tried, Mikoto. At least you’ll know you didn’t let fear stop you. And if he does want you back… well, then you’ll have the life you want.”

  Mikoto sat there for a long moment, her heart racing as she thought about Harry—about his charm, his carefree smile, and the way he had made her feel alive. Could she really return to him, confess the truth, and ask him to come to Konoha? Would he even forgive her for lying about who she was?

  But deep down, she knew Kushina was right. She couldn’t keep living like this, torn between duty and desire. She had to try.

  Finally, Mikoto stood, her resolve hardening. She met Kushina’s gaze and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll go.”

  Kushina grinned, punching her friend lightly on the shoulder. “That’s the Mikoto I know! Go get your man, girl.”

  The next morning, Mikoto woke up feeling off. At first, she dismissed it—shinobi life was taxing on the body, and exhaustion sometimes crept up on her unexpectedly. But as the hours passed, the nausea worsened, and her body began to feel heavier than usual. Her appetite vanished, and the energy she once carried through her duties seemed to slip away. By the end of the day, Mikoto couldn’t ignore it anymore: something was wrong.

  As a kunoichi under the Hokage's command, it was protocol for any shinobi exhibiting signs of illness or weakness to consult the vilge’s medical corps. Resigned, Mikoto made her way to the medical center, expecting to receive a routine check-up and perhaps some treatment for fatigue or a minor illness.

  The examination was thorough, as always. The med-nin ran through the usual diagnostics—chakra flow assessments, physical tests, and medical scans—but the final results left the room uncomfortably silent. The head medic, a woman Mikoto had known for years, turned to her with a look of hesitation and seriousness.

  “Uchiha-san,” the medic began softly, her voice measured, “you’re pregnant.”

  The words hit Mikoto like a kunai to the chest. She blinked, certain she had misheard. “What?” she managed, her voice unsteady. “That’s impossible. I—I took precautions. Every precaution.”

  The medic gave her a sympathetic look but shook her head. “I’ve double-checked, and the results are clear. You’re about two months along. Whatever precautions you took… they didn’t work.”

  Mikoto sat frozen, her mind spinning wildly as the weight of the news settled in. Pregnant. Her hands instinctively drifted to her stomach as if to confirm the impossible. She had spent half a year with Harry in the Fire Capital, living a life far removed from her duties as a kunoichi. She had shared his bed more times than she could count, but she had always taken steps to prevent something like this. Yet here she was.

  Her thoughts raced, a swirl of emotions that she couldn’t untangle. Shock, confusion, fear—what would this mean for her? For Harry? For the Uchiha cn? How could she expin this to her family, her friends, or the Hokage? How could she expin it to him?

  “This… this can’t be happening,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as though trying to will reality to change. Her calm, disciplined exterior was beginning to crack.

  The medic pced a gentle hand on Mikoto’s shoulder. “I know this is a lot to take in, but you need to rest and process this. Physically, you’re fine, but stress isn’t good for you or the baby.”

  Mikoto barely registered the words. Her heart pounded in her chest as the enormity of the situation pressed down on her like a mountain. She was carrying Harry’s child. A child born of a man whose life and origins were still shrouded in mystery. A man who was now miles away, completely unaware of the life they had created.

  As she left the medical center, her steps felt heavier than ever before. The world around her seemed to blur as she struggled to make sense of what she had just learned. All her pns to return to Harry, to confess her feelings and ask him to come back to Konoha, had been thrown into chaos. How would he react to this? Would he even want the child? Would he bme her?

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