It didn’t take long for Mikoto to succumb to the pull of Harry’s world. Despite her initial resolve and the mission entrusted to her by the Third Hokage, she found herself unable to resist the magnetic allure of the man she had been sent to spy on. The way he moved, the way he spoke, the confidence he exuded—it all captivated her in a way no one ever had before.

  When the moment came, it was inevitable. She found herself in Harry’s bed, surrendering to a passion that overwhelmed her. Mikoto had been with others before, but none of those encounters compared to this. Harry seemed to know her body better than she did, his touch igniting sensations she had never imagined. He was, in every sense, a master of pleasure, and she found herself utterly consumed by him.

  For Mikoto, the world seemed to shift. Her duties, her past, even her loyalty to Konoha began to fade into the background. Life with Harry was intoxicating—not just because of his prowess in the bedroom but because of the life he offered her. Expensive food, vish mansions, comfort beyond anything she had ever known—it was a far cry from the rigid, duty-bound existence she had led as a shinobi.

  She found herself thinking less and less about her mission and more about the present. She knew she could get used to this life, living in luxury and indulgence, free from the burdens of cn politics and the expectations of Konoha. With Harry, there was no need to suppress her desires or py the part of the perfect shinobi. She could be herself, and that freedom was as intoxicating as the man who had given it to her.

  As the days passed, Mikoto found herself increasingly drawn to Harry, not just as a lover but as a potential partner in this new, unrestrained life. She knew there would be consequences for her choices, but for now, she didn’t care. Harry had shown her a world she never thought possible, and she wasn’t ready to let it go

  Despite the deepening retionship between Mikoto and Harry, her sense of duty as a shinobi of Konoha remained intact—at least to some degree. She continued to provide updates to the Third Hokage about Harry's activities, albeit with a subtle shift in perspective. To her, Harry was no longer an enigmatic threat or a dangerous figure to be scrutinized. Instead, he was simply a man of immense wealth and power, who had chosen to enjoy life to its fullest.

  In her reports, Mikoto emphasized Harry's carefree attitude. She described how he cimed to have inherited vast riches and resources, which he now used to live a life of indulgence. She noted his extravagant parties, his luxurious mansions, and his penchant for travel and exploration. There was nothing overtly suspicious about his actions, nothing to suggest he posed a direct threat to Konoha or the Elemental Nations. If anything, he seemed more interested in sightseeing, revelry, and his hedonistic pursuits than in power or politics.

  What she didn't mention was how deeply she had become involved in his life. Traveling alongside Harry, Mikoto found herself swept up in his whirlwind lifestyle. Together, they visited every corner of the Elemental Nations, from the misty shores of Kirigakure to the bustling markets of Sunagakure. She accompanied him to meetings with influential figures, sitting quietly as Harry charmed his way into their good graces—or merely observed when his reputation alone opened doors.

  Harry’s charisma was undeniable, and Mikoto couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he navigated different cultures and social circles. Wherever they went, he indulged in the local cuisine, sampled the finest drinks, and, true to his nature, often found himself surrounded by admirers. Mikoto, to her surprise, found herself included in all of it. Harry ensured she was by his side, whether at vish banquets, high-stakes negotiations, or quiet nights spent gazing at the stars in remote corners of the world.

  She watched as Harry lived life on his terms, unapologetically free and uninhibited, and she couldn’t help but be drawn to that freedom. Yet, even as she grew closer to him, she never stopped sending her reports. To the Hokage, she wrote about his travels, his seemingly aimless pursuit of pleasure, and his apparent ck of ambition beyond enjoying his wealth.

  But she also began to wonder if the Hokage’s suspicions were mispced. Was Harry truly the enigmatic figure Konoha feared, or was he simply a man who had discovered the secret to living a life unburdened by responsibility or fear? For now, she chose to py her part, walking the fine line between loyalty to her vilge and the undeniable pull of the life Harry offered her.

  It was a quiet evening at Harry’s mansion, the usual lively parties taking a pause for the night. Mikoto, still in her guise as Hitomi Nagashi, was performing her duties as usual when she noticed an unfamiliar figure approaching the gates. A man with graying hair, an air of wisdom, and a slightly awkward gait entered, ciming to be her father.

  The staff admitted him after some persuasion, and soon enough, Mikoto found herself face-to-face with none other than Jiraiya, though his appearance was expertly disguised. He wore simple robes, his normally wild white hair tucked under a pin headscarf, and his demeanor was much more subdued than usual. For a moment, Mikoto’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected her mission to take this turn.

  Jiraiya gave her a subtle nod, signaling that they needed to speak in private. She led him to one of the quieter rooms of the mansion, away from prying eyes and Harry’s constant vigince. Once inside, she shut the door and turned to him, crossing her arms.

  “What are you doing here, Jiraiya-sama?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

  Jiraiya’s face rexed into a sly grin. “That’s ‘father’ to you right now, Hitomi,” he replied, his tone pyful but with a seriousness underlying it. He took a seat, leaning back casually. “The Hokage sent me. Your mission’s over.”

  Mikoto’s eyes widened slightly. “Over? Why now?”

  “The old man’s convinced. Harry Pottaru isn’t a threat to Konoha,” Jiraiya said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “All the reports you’ve sent? They’ve done their job. He’s eccentric, indulgent, and yes, a bit too fond of women for his own good, but he’s no enemy to the vilge. The Hokage sees no reason to keep an operative here anymore.”

  Mikoto frowned, her heart tightening. “So, you’re saying I should pack up and leave? Just like that?”

  Jiraiya’s gaze sharpened. “Yes, Mikoto. You’ve been here long enough. Konoha has more pressing matters that need your attention. You’re one of the vilge’s top Jonin, not a glorified spy.”

  She hesitated, her mind racing. The thought of leaving Harry’s world of luxury and freedom behind made her chest ache in a way she hadn’t anticipated. “What if there’s more to him than we’ve seen?” she asked, more out of her own conflicted feelings than any real suspicion.

  Jiraiya raised an eyebrow, watching her closely. “You really think that? Or are you just… enjoying the job a bit too much?” His tone was teasing, but there was a hint of genuine concern.

  Mikoto met his gaze, her face a mask of neutrality. “I’ve done my duty, Jiraiya-sama. If the Hokage is convinced, then so am I.”

  Jiraiya sighed, leaning forward. “Good. Then finish up here, make whatever excuses you need, and come back to the vilge. Harry might be harmless now, but don’t forget—loyalty to Konoha comes first. Always.”

  Mikoto nodded, though her heart felt heavier than she expected. “Understood. I’ll return soon.”

  Jiraiya gave her a reassuring smile as he stood. “Good. And, for what it’s worth, you’ve done a damn good job. The Hokage’s impressed, even if he won’t admit it.”

  With that, Jiraiya pulled his disguise tighter and exited the room, leaving Mikoto to grapple with her own feelings. She had completed her mission, but the thought of leaving Harry, his world, and the strange freedom she had found there made her question where her loyalties.

  Mikoto sat in the quiet room long after Jiraiya left, his words echoing in her mind. Though he had framed it as a request, she knew it was a direct order from the Hokage, one she couldn’t refuse. Disobeying would mean becoming a rogue shinobi, a fate that would turn her into a target for the hunter-nin. Worse, it could bring unnecessary danger to Harry, something she couldn’t bear to let happen.

  Her time at the mansion had been a whirlwind of experiences, emotions, and revetions. Over the past six months, she had watched Harry closely, observed every detail of his behavior, and found nothing that pointed to him being a threat. He never used chakra, never showed an interest in the politics or conflicts of the Elemental Nations, and appeared content to live his life indulging in luxury, pleasure, and exploration.

  Mikoto sighed, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. She had grown attached to this life—a life of freedom, free from the rigid structure of duty and cn politics. And more than anything, she had grown attached to Harry. He was unlike anyone she had ever met: confident, charming, and unshakably free-spirited. Leaving him behind would be harder than she cared to admit, but she knew she had no choice. Staying would endanger them both, and she couldn’t allow that.

  That night, Mikoto sat on the balcony of her room, staring out at the Fire Capital’s glittering skyline. She let her mind wander through the memories of her time with Harry—the ughter, the extravagant adventures, the moments of quiet intimacy that had made her question everything she thought she wanted.

  Mikoto couldn’t bring herself to leave Harry without facing him directly. Running away without a word felt cowardly, and if there was one thing she refused to be, it was a coward. Instead, she approached him that evening, finding him in one of the mansion’s vish sitting rooms, sipping a gss of fine wine and watching the city lights from the window.

  She hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice soft but steady. “Hari, I need to talk to you.”

  He turned, his emerald eyes meeting hers with their usual intensity. “What’s on your mind, Hitomi?” he asked, using the name she had given him when she arrived, though he spoke it with a knowing glint.

  Mikoto stepped closer, her heart pounding. “My… my mother is sick,” she said, weaving her carefully crafted story. “That’s why my father came the other day. He’s asked me to return home to take care of her.”

  Harry studied her for a moment, his gaze sharp as though he could see right through her words. She wondered if he would call her bluff, but then his expression softened, and he nodded.

  “I see,” he said, his tone quiet. “Family is important. You should go if they need you.”

  Relieved that he didn’t press further, Mikoto offered him a small smile. “Thank you for understanding.”

  The news of her departure spread quickly through the mansion, and the staff, who had grown fond of her during her time there, insisted on throwing her a farewell party. The night was filled with ughter and bittersweet goodbyes, the staff showering her with heartfelt thanks and well wishes. For Mikoto, it was a reminder of how much this pce—and its people—had come to mean to her.

  When the party wound down, Mikoto lingered in the grand hall, her mind heavy with emotions. She knew this would be her st night here, her st chance to be with Harry. Gathering her resolve, she made her way to his room.

  She found him reclining on the bed, a book in hand, the ever-present air of calm confidence around him. He looked up as she entered, a small smirk pying on his lips. “I didn’t think I’d see you again tonight,” he said, closing the book and setting it aside.

  Mikoto stepped closer, her cheeks warming as she met his gaze. “I didn’t want to leave without… saying a proper goodbye.”

  Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A proper goodbye?” he echoed, his voice low, inviting.

  She nodded, her heart racing as she climbed onto the bed, closing the distance between them. “Yes,” she whispered, leaning in.

  That night, Mikoto let herself forget about Konoha, her mission, and everything that had brought her here. For those fleeting hours, she was just a woman with a man who had captured her heart in ways she hadn’t expected. As dawn broke, she slipped out of his embrace, her departure looming closer.

  “Leaving without a proper goodbye, Hitomi?” he said, his voice soft but ced with that familiar, teasing tone.

  Mikoto froze, turning to see him sitting up in bed, his emerald eyes fixed on her. She managed a small smile, though her chest tightened with emotion. “I thought I already said my goodbye,” she replied, her voice steady but quiet.

  Harry tilted his head, studying her. Then, without a word, he reached over to the nightstand and picked up a small bag. He held it out to her, the soft clinking sound of metal and stones unmistakable.

  “Take this,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “A parting gift.”

  Mikoto hesitated, her eyes flickering between the bag and his face. “Harry, I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can,” he interrupted, his gaze unwavering. “You’ve been here for months, and you’ve made this pce brighter. The staff adore you, and you’ve become part of this odd little world of mine. Take it, not just for yourself, but to remind you of the life you deserve.”

  She reached out slowly, her fingers brushing against the bag as she took it from him. It was heavier than she expected, and when she peeked inside, her breath caught. Gold jewelry, glittering gemstones, and precious trinkets filled the bag—a fortune in her hands.

  “Harry… this is too much,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

  He shrugged, his smirk returning. “It’s nothing to me, but it’ll mean something to you. Use it however you see fit—whether it’s to help your family or just to treat yourself to something nice. You deserve it.”

  Mikoto stared at him, her heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper, something she couldn’t quite put into words. She stepped closer, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice tinged with emotion. “For everything.”

  Harry smiled, his hand brushing against hers one st time. “Take care of yourself, Hitomi. And remember—you’re always welcome here.”

  With a final gnce, Mikoto turned and left the room, clutching the bag tightly. As she walked through the mansion one st time, the gold and jewels felt like more than a gift—they felt like a piece of the life she was leaving behind, a life she knew she would always long for, even as she returned to Konoha.

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