Thanks to his prosthetic and enhancement technology, every injured shinobi who had regained their ability to walk owed Hikuro a debt of gratitude.
This network of favors gave him considerable political standing—otherwise, the Third Hokage would never have asked for his opinion regarding the new Fourth Hokage.
Still, with those stubborn old men in the council breathing down his neck, his reputation was not quite as glowing as it might have been.
Looking at little Itachi, Hikuro’s thoughts drifted back to Mikoto.
Back then, his own name had been barely known, while hers had shone brightly across the ninja world.
His reputation had first begun to grow during the Second Great Ninja War.
As a classmate and admirer of Tsunade, he had supported her fully, helping her establish a formal system of medical ninjutsu and creating specialized tools and equipment that drastically improved the survival rate of Konoha’s soldiers.
With further developments in technology, his name had become well-respected within the village.
Once he had secured enough funding and a fully equipped laboratory from the higher-ups, he stepped back from the front lines, leaving behind the bloodshed and waste of war to focus entirely on research.
He disappeared from public view for years—until he returned with his prosthetic technology, giving disabled shinobi the chance to walk and fight once more.
As a result, younger generations rarely knew who he was unless they looked into the history books.
But among the older shinobi, his name was widely recognized.
Hikuro felt no particular dislike for Itachi.
To him, this world and its people felt both familiar and completely new.
He refused to view them only through the lens of the original story, or let his understanding be limited by past knowledge.
The changes he had already brought about were far too great for the old plot to follow its original course.
Even Orochimaru, who seemed like a mad scientist, still cared deeply about his former teammates.
And Danzō was more than just a troublemaker—without his ruthless actions, the Third Great Ninja War might not have ended as quickly as it did.
He was not just a fool with money; he had his own plans and reasons for dealing with Hikuro.
The Third Hokage, too, was not as gentle and soft as he often appeared.
As the leader of the village, he possessed immense resolve.
When necessary, he made difficult decisions on the battlefield, earning his title as “The God of Shinobi.”
Tsunade, however, was exactly as generous and big-hearted as she had been in his past life.
But thinking of her younger brother, Nawaki, brought a pang of sadness.
Hikuro had gotten along well with the boy while trying to win Tsunade’s affection.
Even with all his efforts, he could not prevent Nawaki’s death—only the circumstances had changed.
In this cruel world, weakness itself was a crime.
As Orochimaru had told him, the boy had fallen into an enemy trap, and his internal organs were torn apart in an instant.
There was no time to save him.
Even someone as powerful as Orochimaru could only watch helplessly as his young student lost his life.
Nawaki’s death hit Tsunade harder than any blow in battle.
She fell into a deep despair, turning to alcohol to numb her pain and spending her days wandering from one gambling den to another, trying to drown her grief in distraction.
As for Orochimaru, from that day onward he grew colder and more detached, as if he had seen through every illusion of the world.
His actions became increasingly reckless and unbound by convention.
Yet Hikuro could not shake off his doubts.
He suspected that Nawaki’s death was far from an accident, and that the cunning elders of the village were somehow involved.
After all, the mission had been a simple one—clearing out bandits, meant only to give the young Nawaki some combat experience.
There was no reason for things to go so catastrophically wrong, nor for Orochimaru to be caught so completely off guard.
But time had passed, and there were no witnesses left to question.
Hikuro had no solid evidence to pursue the matter further.
Hikuro walked slowly through the village streets with Itachi at his side.
As they turned a corner, they came face to face with Mikoto Uchiha, who was returning from a visit to speak with Kushina Uzumaki.
The moment she spotted Itachi, Mikoto waved warmly and hurried over.
“Mother!” Itachi called out.
“Lord Hikuro,” she greeted him respectfully with a bow.
“Mikoto Uchiha, if I remember correctly—you are Fugaku’s wife, aren’t you?” Hikuro asked.
“Yes, that is correct, Lord Hikuro.”
At this time, Mikoto was already showing a gentle swell of pregnancy, and her whole being radiated the soft, graceful charm of a mature woman.
Warm, gentle, and dignified—there was no better way to describe her.
She carried herself with a quiet elegance and kindness that none of the other women Hikuro had gathered around him possessed.
“Damn it—don’t let your instincts take over,” he muttered inwardly, quickly pulling his gaze away and schooling his expression.
“Am I right in seeing you are expecting another child?” he asked aloud.
“Yes, Lord Hikuro,” she replied softly.
“Congratulations, little one,” Hikuro said, reaching down to ruffle Itachi’s hair.
“You are going to have a younger brother soon.”
Itachi froze for a moment, wide-eyed and lost in thought.
Mikoto smiled and stepped forward, brushing her hand gently over his face and hair.
She pressed Itachi’s ear against her belly and whispered, “Yes, you will be a big brother now.”
Listening to the faint, steady rhythm of new life beating beneath his mother’s skin, Itachi felt as if the world before his eyes suddenly brightened.
The heavy, gray shadow that had settled over his heart from seeing death and suffering seemed to melt away, replaced by something warm and hopeful.
Seeing her son in such good company, Mikoto took her leave.
It was no secret that Hikuro was now a person of great importance in the village, and there was no harm in Itachi spending time with him.
True to his word, Hikuro led the boy straight to the dessert shop.
With practiced ease, he ordered a hundred skewers of three-colored dango and four servings of strawberry soft-serve ice cream.
“Eat up,” he said, pushing a plate toward the still somewhat reserved Itachi.
“Sweet things bring happiness—you’ll remember this feeling.”
He grinned as he spoke, then picked up a skewer himself and began eating with great gusto.
Lady Mikoto… what a beautiful figure she has.
Such a shame she is already married.
Back then, I was just a low-ranking shinobi, nowhere near important enough to approach someone of the Uchiha’s standing, he thought, his mind drifting back to his first days on the battlefield.
He remembered watching from a distance as Mikoto led her clan’s warriors through the fighting—a rose blooming amid blood and steel.
“Truly beautiful…” he murmured softly.
“Big Brother, what is beautiful?” Itachi asked, looking up.
“Monday to Friday – Update 3 Chapters a Day”
“Saturday and Sunday – Off”