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At this particular moment, he could go check on how well Suzumebachi was adapting to the Curse Seal transformation.
Once he resolved the side effects of the Curse Seal, he'd begin the transplant process. His overall strength would then experience a significant leap. The Curse Seal's enhancement to one's power was undeniable—after all, even Sasuke could rely on it to go head-to-head with Naruto, who had unleashed several of his tailed beast tails in a rampage.
On the bustling streets of Konohagakure, a woman wearing a baseball cap and a face mask slipped mysteriously into a shop selling women's clothing. She purchased a pair of black stockings. Half an hour later, she returned home.
"Phew…"
Mikoto let out a heavy breath, removing her cap and mask.
Snap!
Her figure shifted from the appearance of an ordinary thirty-year-old woman back to her original, striking, and elegant self.
"There's actually someone from the Uchiha running a shop like that," she muttered.
Her refined and dignified face flushed with a hint of embarrassment. Thinking back to the female shopkeeper's sly, knowing smirk, Mikoto felt utterly mortified. She had never bought stockings before—never even considered it. Fugaku had no interest in such things either, so she'd never had a reason to seek them out.
Yet, to her utter disbelief, here she was, forced to wear something like this—and under these circumstances, no less—to meet Shimizu. Mikoto couldn't help but marvel at life's unpredictability. No one could foresee what twists of fate might bring.
But… for the sake of making amends, she had no choice.
Mikoto pulled the neatly folded black stockings from her bag. The fabric was smooth and silky to the touch.
"Sigh, just this once—and the last time," she said, shaking her head.
Wearing them wasn't a big deal, really. Plenty of people on the streets wore them. It's just that she, being a more conservative woman, had never cared for such things. But if this small price could bring Fugaku some joy and ease the worried furrow in his brow, then it was worth it.
She took a deep breath and gently slipped the stockings onto her feet. The cool, slick sensation clung to her skin, sending an unfamiliar wave of shame through her. Slowly, she pulled them up, feeling their tight embrace. Her cheeks grew faintly warm.
At my age, wearing something so youthful…
When she finally finished putting on the black stockings and stood before the mirror, they accentuated the long, rounded lines of her legs, lending them an unfamiliar beauty. But that very allure made her uncomfortable. Mikoto couldn't bear to look for long. She quickly grabbed a conservative black robe and threw it on, hoping the outer layer would conceal her unease.
Click.
Mikoto opened the door. She had to find Shimizu and make her amends.
Just then, Fugaku's voice came from behind her. "Mikoto, where are you going?"
His words made her heart skip a beat. She turned around, struggling to maintain her composure.
"I'm stepping out for a bit. I'll be back soon," she replied calmly.
Fugaku didn't press further, only adding, "Make sure to stop by Shimizu's place afterward. Build some rapport with him. He's an orphan and probably lacks affection. Seize the opportunity—he's important to the Uchiha." His expression was stern.
The matter with that mysterious man had been weighing on his mind, and he needed to devise a plan to deal with it.
Mikoto nodded. To her surprise, Fugaku was even encouraging her to go see Shimizu. It eased the burden in her heart just a little.
…
"Oh, Lady Mikoto, where are you off to?"
As Mikoto walked through the Uchiha compound's streets, a familiar voice called out to her.
"Oh, Hazuki, I'm just heading out for something," Mikoto replied, her body tensing slightly.
With every step, she could feel the stockings sliding against her legs, the strange sensation a constant reminder of her predicament. She wondered if Hazuki, another woman, might notice something off about her.
Uchiha Hazuki gave a faint nod in response, exchanged a few polite words, and then left. She'd been busy lately—ever since that man returned from his business dealings and started pestering her. It was driving her up the wall, and she hadn't found a good way to shake him off.
"Well, I'll take my leave then, Lady Mikoto," Hazuki said, departing without a backward glance.
Mikoto breathed a sigh of relief. With her outer coat covering everything, it was unlikely anyone could tell.
…
"Lady Mikoto is looking for you."
Uchiha Tekka knocked on the door. He couldn't help but feel he should stop wandering around so much. Every time he did, someone asked him to pass a message to Shimizu. It was turning into a real chore. Once or twice was fine, but as it piled up, Tekka started looking at Shimizu differently.
This guy's got a knack for handling women, huh.
But what could Lady Mikoto want with Shimizu? Tekka wondered idly.
"Trouble you to pass the message," came Shimizu's voice from the courtyard. Only then did Tekka turn to leave.
With Clan Leader Fugaku's health faltering, perhaps he'd entrusted Lady Mikoto with delivering some instructions to Shimizu. Tekka quickly put the matter out of his mind.
He'd heard recently that an orphanage in the Land of Fire was short on funds and soliciting donations—even old clothes or pants would do. They said it'd earn you divine favor. Tekka figured he'd go rummage through his things, see if he still had any unwanted clothes to send over. Doing a good deed before heading into the next battle, earning some protection from the gods—it seemed like a fair deal to him.
…
At the Konohagakure sweets shop, business had slowed considerably, likely due to the war. The customers were mostly wealthy heirs; shinobi were a rare sight.
Having received the message, Shimizu tended to his white doves before heading to the sweets shop. When he arrived, he spotted a woman sitting by the window. The white table before her was laden with an array of delicate desserts, yet she hadn't touched a single one. Instead, she kept glancing outside, shifting in her seat as if restless.
"Sister Mikoto, what brings you to me this time?" Shimizu asked casually, giving her a quick once-over before sitting across from her.
"If I sincerely apologize to you, will you truly forgive me?"
"Of course. How could I dare deceive you, Sister Mikoto? Besides, all I want is a matter of attitude. I need to know I'm a person, not just a tool."
Shimizu scooped a dollop of cake frosting with his spoon and ate it. On the table sat a menu—the cake he'd just tasted was priced at ten thousand ryō, firmly in the realm of luxury. The other desserts varied in cost, the cheapest still a hefty three thousand ryō. It was clear Mikoto had spared no expense this time.
Shimizu didn't hold back—he dug in. The texture was impressive, melting in his mouth. No wonder they could charge such prices without getting shut down; they had some real skill.
Mikoto watched as Shimizu polished off several pieces in quick succession. In the blink of an eye, tens of thousands of ryō vanished. Her face still carried a trace of worry—not because of the money, but because of what she was about to do next.
When Shimizu had nearly finished eating, Mikoto pursed her lips and said, "Let's move somewhere else."
"Does that mean, Sister Mikoto, you've prepared your apology gift?"
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