Tobirama said he wanted to travel the world and promised that he would naturally return if the village ever needed him.
In truth, his attachment to Konoha was difficult to let go of.
He certainly still harbored the desire to regain control of it, but opposing Makoto at this moment was not a wise choice—it would only bring harm to Konoha.
Having touched the threshold of immortality, Tobirama believed that his era would eventually come again.
For now, it was better to try a different way of living.
He recalled something his elder brother had once said to him.
Returning to the living world had made him restless and self-centered.
He needed time to calm down and reflect.
Traveling across the ninja world was a good option, and he could search for a way to repair his soul along the way.
In the future, he even planned to summon his elder brother with the Edo Tensei and resurrect him.
Of course, thinking that was one thing—whether Makoto would give him the chance was another.
Makoto would never willingly give up what was already his.
After Tobirama left, Makoto wandered around the research facility.
Everything here was highly specialized, beyond Makoto's understanding, and he didn't have the time to figure it all out either.
He inspected the experimental subjects and, after some thought, summoned the Anbu.
He ordered seals of the Cursed Tongue Eradication technique to be applied to them and had them sent to live in a random small town.
Soul reincarnation, soul division...
In the original story, Orochimaru became incredibly weak because of the Living Corpse Reincarnation technique.
It was likely due to the same principle, just a different method of execution.
Initially, the curse mark had been developed from Jugo's body.
Makoto had once handed Jugo over to Orochimaru willingly, but at the time, Orochimaru had shown little interest, instead developing another secret technique.
Back during the battle with the Third Hokage, it was likely that Orochimaru had used this secret technique to escape.
Makoto didn't stay long at the research facility.
By the time he stepped outside, it was already afternoon.
With nothing else to do, he could have headed straight home, but instead, he changed course and went in another direction—to the Uchiha clan leader's residence.
Mikoto, who was doing housework, suddenly heard a knock at the door.
She hurried over to open it, only to be surprised to see Makoto standing outside.
"L-Lord Hokage!"
"Lord Hokage, what brings you here?" Mikoto stammered awkwardly.
Makoto smiled faintly. "Didn't you say you wanted to invite me to your house as a guest?"
Mikoto forced a smile. "Y-Yes... but Lord Hokage, why didn't you let me know in advance? I could have prepared properly."
Since that day, Makoto hadn't sought her out again.
Mikoto had assumed the Hokage had lost interest in a married woman like her, and she had secretly felt relieved, hoping never to do anything so degrading again.
Makoto chuckled. "What's wrong? Am I visiting at a bad time?"
"No, not at all! Lord Hokage, please come in," Mikoto said hurriedly, stepping aside to invite him in.
The house seemed empty, with no sign of Fugaku or Itachi.
"Fugaku-senpai isn't home?"
"Fugaku is at the Fire Prevention Department, and Itachi is out on a mission... they won't be back until evening."
Her words seemed somewhat meaningful, even causing Mikoto herself to pause, realizing she might have implied something unintentionally.
Makoto sat on the sofa, and Mikoto brought him some tea.
As she handed the cup to him, his hand deliberately brushed against hers.
Mikoto's body stiffened for a moment, but she didn't show any resistance, pretending as if nothing had happened.
Makoto said, "It looks like Fugaku-senpai is quite busy most of the time. But with a virtuous and beautiful wife like you at home, I imagine all that hard work must be worth it."
To Mikoto, these words now felt incredibly ironic.
She forced a smile and gave a polite response.
Makoto continued with a smile, "Fugaku-senpai and Mrs. Mikoto must have a great relationship, right?"
"..."
Mikoto didn't want to answer that question.
She felt as though Makoto was doing it on purpose.
Did she and Fugaku have a good relationship?
In the past, yes, she thought so. She believed Fugaku loved her.
Her husband was the clan leader, her son was outstanding and well-behaved, and their family was harmonious and respected wherever they went.
It had once been a perfect household.
But now, when Itachi wasn't home, she and Fugaku wouldn't exchange a single word.
Mikoto would still cook for him and do the housework, but whenever she saw him, she felt an overwhelming hatred.
She couldn't bear to share a room with him any longer and had even moved into the guest room.
Sometimes, she would sleep with her son, Itachi.
"We're just... so-so," she finally said.
Makoto looked at her with a smile, clearly aware of everything.
He said, "I remember Mrs. Mikoto mentioned preparing something for me, didn't you?"
"..."
Mikoto's heart tensed upon hearing that, followed by an overwhelming sense of shame.
"I'm looking forward to it," Makoto added.
Mikoto maintained her smile, but her hand instinctively clenched the edge of her clothes.
A few days ago, she had resolved herself, but since Makoto hadn't come, she had begun to feel relieved.
Now, just as she was starting to believe she was safe, he showed up.
This sudden twist left her emotionally unsettled.
She knew she couldn't avoid it.
With her previous blatant hints, how could Makoto not understand?
She had even taken the initiative to tease and provoke him.
In his eyes, she must undoubtedly seem like a shameless, adulterous woman betraying her husband.
A mix of desolation, humiliation, shame, and bitterness flooded her heart.
There was a lingering sense of melancholy, but she didn't feel guilty toward anyone.
It was Fugaku who had wronged her, and perhaps she had also wronged herself...
A sense of resignation grew within her.
Pressing her lips tightly together, she slowly said, "… Lord Hokage, please wait a moment."
With that, she turned and walked toward her bedroom.
After leaving the living room and closing the bedroom door, Mikoto let out a long sigh.
Her nerves had been taut just moments ago, but now, standing at the threshold of what was to come, she found herself momentarily relaxed.
Images of Fugaku and Itachi kept flashing through her mind.
Her hand trembled as it gripped the wardrobe handle, refusing to move.
What am I even doing... How did it come to this?
Fugaku, do you have any idea what I'm doing right now...?
She questioned herself, questioned the man who couldn't hear her questions.
But how could she find an answer? Her rational mind told her she should hate her husband—revenge against him wouldn't even be unjustified.
But the more she tried to think this way, the more her heart ached.
She loved Fugaku deeply. Loved her husband, loved this family...
The chaotic thoughts overwhelmed her, making her body tremble and pushing her to the brink of a breakdown.
At that moment, the bedroom door suddenly opened, startling Mikoto.
"Mrs. Mikoto, aren't you ready yet?"
His voice was probing, questioning, urging.
The Hokage stood at the doorway, smiling as he looked at her.
Mikoto's neck stiffened as she forced a smile onto her face, but words failed her.
He walked toward her, each step resounding clearly in the silence of the bedroom.
She found herself pressed against the wardrobe door, his body close against her back.
Mikoto finally came to her senses.
She wanted to resist, wanted to flee—but he was the Hokage.
Mikoto leaned her forehead against the wardrobe, feeling her breath bounce back from the wooden surface as she spoke.
"Lord Hokage... please don't be so hasty."
"I'm not in a hurry."
"..."
Overcome with embarrassment, she pressed tightly against the wardrobe door, her body stiffening from the foreign touch.
A thick, heavy cloud of gloom enveloped her heart, suffocating her.
The sounds in the room were so close, unbearably near.
Even the friction of the wardrobe door was clear, as if they were moving through the room.
The sounds flowed, retreated, and surged back repeatedly, like waves.
Suddenly, the window nearby swung open, filling the dim bedroom with a brighter light.
A gentle breeze swept in, brushing against the two figures.
The slanted light divided the bedroom into halves of brightness and shadow.
They stood as if bathing in the same warm sunlight as the grass in the courtyard.
On the bed, the pillows and blanket were neatly stacked.
On the desk sat a framed family photo—Itachi standing between Fugaku and Mikoto, all three smiling warmly.
She momentarily lost herself, like the grass outside, silently enduring the arrival of spring.
She became nothing, dissolving into that fleeting spring breeze and the soft glow of the sunset.
The sunlight was suddenly veiled by the shifting window curtain, and in that instant, she remembered herself.
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