Yuki Kimiko slowly opened her eyes, her bored and slightly disoriented gaze finding the somber ceiling of bricks and metal.
The patter of the rain against the walls invaded her ears once again, but she completely ignored it, already accustomed to its eternal presence.
The woman sat up in her bed, cracking her neck with gentle but firm movements, clearing the discomfort. She then continued with her limbs and finally her back, stretching her arms above her head.
A sigh of relief echoed in the darkened room.
Kimiko began her day with the same dull and barely functional energy she had maintained for the last few months, the result of a deep feeling of loneliness, abandonment, and unfulfilled need.
Before taking a shower, brushing her teeth, or preparing breakfast, she mechanically rummaged through her sheets, pulling out a piece of clothing from between them.
Takeshi's clothing, used and with a faint trace of his scent that was slowly fading, absorbed every day by the woman.
As if it were a ritual, Kimiko buried her face in the fabric and inhaled eagerly, her eyes closed and her unbalanced mind returning to simpler, happier moments when it was just her and Takeshi.
The jokes, the surprises he gave her with every display of intelligence, cunning, and understanding. She remembered his soft, pale skin, his hair matted when waking up or wet and pulled back when bathing.
She remembered the warmth of his body as he clung to hers on cold nights, the sweat bathing his skin during training sessions, the frosty air that surrounded him when he trained with his chakra.
His lips dominating her when she tempted him, his authoritative tone when she disobeyed, his stern gaze when she threw tantrums.
Heat descended from Kimiko's chest, passing through her abdomen until it turned to moisture between her legs.
The woman's breathing intensified, and her fragile sanity began to falter again. But she stopped.
She opened her eyes and quickly released the garment, forcing herself back to reality before sinking too deep into that reverie. She didn't do it for fear of losing herself, for she didn't care.
No, she did it because she couldn't let Takeshi receive a broken and crazy doll. Useless.
Kimiko took that twisted idea of herself and used it as determination to get up, lovingly and reverently storing her son's garment and proceeding to start her day.
She meticulously cleaned her body, always keeping herself in the best condition for him.
She ate properly, taking care of her figure to stimulate him and not embarrass him.
Then she buried herself in a mountain of scrolls, diligently studying to practice later, making sure she had a solid repertoire of skills that would allow her to accompany him on his travels.
Currently, Kimiko was barely a low-ranking member of the Akatsuki Organization, destined only for messaging and paperwork tasks. She didn't even need to attend the creepy Tower every day.
Once a month, the bluish-haired, grey-eyed slut had a combat session with her, checking her progress and strength. When she approved, Kimiko would have the opportunity to advance and, perhaps, become Takeshi's partner.
The path would be tumultuous nonetheless. There was much that she did not master, that she did not understand. No one instructed her, no one guided her. They only provided her with the scrolls, and the rest was in her hands.
It wasn't just about learning more Ninjutsu. She had to develop skills, operate strategically, learn to treat wounds, use medicinal herbs, poisons, and above all, become a damned sensor.
With a concentrated expression, the woman weaved hand signs and manifested two consecutive smoke explosions, from which two exact replicas of herself emerged.
Kage Bunshin, a practical technique that allowed her to advance months of work in days, at the cost of terrible daily headaches. Her limit was two clones for about four hours.
Otherwise, the wave of memories would make her pass out and she would forget much of the knowledge.
This is how Kimiko's days went. The Yuki drowned between work and training, cooking and cleaning. She was focused, she was desperate, pushing herself beyond her limits to reach that special person in her heart.
Doubt, insecurity, and spite remained in the background, lurking, scheming, sending her dark and depressing thoughts at random moments, breaking her concentration.
—What if Takeshi falls in love with a young girl out there? What if he falls into the clutches of some slut? What if some bitch takes his chastity and breaks her boy's heart?
—No!— she thought with clenched teeth in response to her own malicious whispers. —I won't allow it. I will give him what he needs, I will be what he needs. No one else, no one else is needed.
Then she would calm down, refocus, become someone useful. And the whispers returned, they always returned.
Hours of the same transpired, barely perceptible days came and went, exhaustion accumulated, bringing her to the point of collapsing for hours only to get up as if nothing happened and continue with her destructive routine.
Because if she didn't do it, if she didn't keep herself busy in body and mind, she felt like she would break.
***********************************
The coastal city of Shironami welcomed Takeshi with a lively night festival.
Alcohol everywhere, drunks staggering here and there, shy couples blushing as they held hands, entire families tasting skewers, fish, and creatures with tentacles.
The courtesans strutted in all their splendor, the Samurai patrolled with their closed helmets concealing their expressions, their postures rigid and honorable.
Grills emitted all kinds of appetizing smells, lanterns studded the streets with faint but pleasant, warm light, in contrast to the temperate and cold weather hitting the city.
Takeshi took a deep breath, letting himself be carried away a little by the festive atmosphere.
With his leg bandaged and still injured, he walked calmly through the sea of people, buying some delicacies here and there to refuel.
He had to admit that entering the Land of Iron and its cities was neither easy nor cheap.
The arrogant Samurai were nothing more than a mafia group of extortionists and corrupt individuals, willing to squeeze every last coin even from the starving beggar who had the misfortune of catching their attention.
Due to such a crime, Takeshi opted for the always reliable natural route, navigating through the inhospitable and beautiful lands of this vast world to reach his destination, barely slipping into the small villages for basic supplies.
Finally, after a couple of weeks of endless travel and solitary but pleasant camping, he reached his destination.
Shironami was not a very large city, nor very important in the grand scheme of the Land of Iron. However, Takeshi had an acquaintance here he needed to see.
The Yuki slipped among the people and strolled through the busiest streets, glancing at the various businesses: Restaurants, small gambling houses, bars, inns.
He even managed to glimpse a striking sign suggesting a first-class service with a kind Onee-San with strong attributes, but Takeshi resisted the temptation.
His will and his interests came first. That, and the fact that a certain deviant woman would probably completely fall into the abyss if he were to become a man with just anyone.
He quickly cleared the unhealthy thoughts and focused on the current task. He would have time later to decide whether to give that woman the sin she desired so much or to keep what little of her integrity was intact.
Finally, he located a familiar symbol on a rough wooden and metal door, in a small corner set apart from the big businesses.
Small building, somewhat dirty, with weeds growing around it. But aesthetics were the least of Takeshi's concerns.
With excitement coursing through his chest, he knocked on the door of the Blacksmith's Shop.