Now I am back.
For this world, I only disappeared for less than an hour.
But for me, tens of years have passed in that fleeting moment.
The first sensation I felt was the natural energy—its unsettling because where did this energy came from .
I didn’t feel it before but now becoming a sage.
My body became sensitive to energies ” Well, its good with this i dont need to go back to the training yard whenever i want to collect energy for sage mode” I left a teleportation mark here, a silent beacon I could call upon at any moment.
With my mastery of teleportation techniques, I could not only teleport to the location of my mark but also to any chakra signature that came from me.
I extended my awareness, sensing the clone I had left behind in my room.
With the level of precision I had achieved, .
I teleported directly to that clone.
Without hesitation, I vanished from sight, reappearing instantly in my room.
I dismissed the clone, its form dissipating into smoke.
My appearance had shifted— I now looked like a young adolescent man, it will raise questions if others sees me so, I swiftly reshaped my body using advanced transformation techniques I had mastered.
Even if I sustained some injuries, my appearance would remain unchanged, untouched by pain or damage.
Through the wall, I still heard the labored panting and the muffled cries of my aunt Catelyn, her labor ongoing in the distant birthing chamber—despite the great distance between us.
Hmmm.
It would be better to assist her myself.
I invoked a stealth technique—an invisibility jutsu.
Instantly, I became completely unseen, my presence erased from the world.
Casually, I strolled down the corridor, heading toward the room where my aunt was giving birth.
Outside, two guards stood watch, tense and alert.
Beside them, the Lord of Winterfell and his eldest son, Rob, waited silently, unaware of my presence.
They sensed nothing.
Then, I slipped a thin chakra thread through the small crack beneath the door, connecting it to my aunt.
Using the medical knowledge I had acquired, I understood precisely how to help her With my chakra i given my aunt strength then also the baby in the womb Then finally healing for fast recovery I was careful not to overdo it and heal it all instantly that will cause commotion.
After that i came back to my room —— ..
The flickering torchlight flickered across the cold stone corridor of Winterfell.
Inside the birthing chamber, muffled sounds of labor echoed softly, but outside, everything was still.
Lord Ned Stark knelt beside his nearly four-year-old son Rob, who sat on the floor clutching a small wooden toy.
The boy looked up at his father with wide eyes, eager but unaware of the tension beneath Ned’s calm exterior.
Ned’s face was stern, his jaw clenched slightly as he ruffled Rob’s hair with a firm hand.
Ned:”Rob, listen to me.
Your mother is strong, but she’s also tired.
The baby will be born soon, and I need you to be brave.
Understand?” Rob nodded quickly, though confusion flickered in his eyes.
Rob:”Is the baby going to be a girl or a boy father?
Ned’s gaze hardened just a little, his voice steady and commanding.
Ned:”If shes a girl then, she’ll be beautiful—just like your mother But if a boy he will be your future bannermen you staunch supporter.
Either a boy or a girl .
You’ll be needed to be a big brother—strong, brave, and ready to protect.
Do you understand?” Rob hesitated, then nodded again, sensing the seriousness in his father’s tone.
Rob:”Will the baby cry loud?” Ned’s expression softened briefly, but his tone remained firm.
Ned:” might be.
That’s a good sign.
It means the child will be strong enough to live.
And you’ll help taking care .
You’re a Stark, Rob.
That means you’re brave, and you’re meant to look after your family.” Rob looked up at his father, trying to match that stern resolve.
Rob:”I’ll be a good big brother, I promise.” Ned reached out and gently but firmly squeezed Rob’s shoulder.
Ned:”You better be.
Because when its here, you’re little sibling will look to you for strength.
And I expect you to be ready.
No crying, no whining—just strength.
Do you hear me?” Rob swallowed hard, nodding again.
Ned:”Good.
Be patient.
Your mother needs us both.
We’ll see her soon.” The distant sounds from the chamber shifted, signaling the nearing moment.
Ned’s jaw tightened, a mixture of pride and stern resolve filling his voice.
Ned:”Stay here.
I’ll be back when it’s over.
And then, we’ll welcome your little sibling into the world.” Rob watched his father go, clutching his toy tightly—waiting, quietly brave, for the moment his family grew even stronger.
The birthing chamber at Winterfell was filled with a tense silence, broken only by the faint, rhythmic sounds of Lady Catelyn’s labor.
The Maester, a wise and steady figure, stood beside her, his brow furrowed with concentration.
The servants hovered nearby, their faces pale with concern and awe.
The room was dimly lit by flickering torches, shadows dancing across the stone walls as the minutes stretched long and heavy.
Catelyn’s face was flushed with exertion, her breaths ragged, sweat beading on her brow.
She gritted her teeth, her hands clutching the sheets as pain wracked her body.
The struggle was fierce—yet amid the tension, an air of anticipation shimmered like a faint hope.
And then, with a sudden, powerful push, everything changed.
A cry—a pure, strong cry—broke through the room like a bell tolling.
The labor was over.
In one swift, decisive moment, the baby girl was born, tiny and perfect.
Her delicate features were illuminated by the torchlight: a small face, cheeks flushed, eyes closed for a moment as she took her first breath.
Strong, beautiful, and utterly perfect.
The room erupted into quiet murmurs of awe.
The old gods had blessed them—this was a child worthy of the Stark name.
Catelyn’s trembling hand reached out instinctively, and the Maester gently lifted the newborn, wrapping her in soft linen.
He placed the tiny girl into her mother’s waiting arms.
“its a girl, my lady,” the Maester announced softly, a gentle smile touching his weathered face.
“A beautiful daughter.” Catelyn’s eyes filled with tears, a mixture of relief and overwhelming pride.
She looked down at her newborn, her voice fragile but filled with warmth.
“Please call upon the lord to be here!” she gasped, her voice hoarse from labor.
The Maester nodded respectfully.
“Yes, my lady.
I shall send for Lord Stark and your son at once.” Catelyn’s voice was faint but steady.
“Please—call them quickly.
I want my husband.
I want Rob.” The servants moved swiftly, their hands trembling slightly as they tidied the chamber, wiping away sweat and blood, smoothing the blankets, and preparing the room to be presentable for the arrival of the lord of Winterfell.
Moments later, the heavy oak door swung open, and Ned Stark entered, his face a mixture of anxious hope and unyielding pride.
His eyes immediately fell upon his wife, lying exhausted but radiant, cradling their newborn.
He crossed the room in a few quick strides, kneeling beside her, gazing with awe at the tiny girl.
“Ned,” Catelyn whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, “look at her… she’s a beauty.
A girl.
We have a daughter now.” Ned’s broad face softened as he looked at the fragile bundle in her arms.
He reached out, gently taking her hand, a fierce pride shining in his eyes.
“She’s perfect,” he said quietly.
“What will you name her, my wife?” Catelyn thought for a moment, her brow furrowing thoughtfully.
Then she smiled softly, tears glistening in her eyes.
“Sansa,” she whispered.
” Her name shall be Sansa Stark.” The room filled with warmth as husband, wife, and their young son Rob was together The boy’s eyes widened as he saw the tiny girl cradled in his mother’s arms.
“Father,” Rob said softly, clutching his small hands to his chest.
“She’s so tiny… and pretty.” Ned looked down at his son, then back at the newborn with pride.
The Stark pack was growing, and with it, the hopes of Winterfell—and all of the North.
Ned Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, rose to his full height, his voice firm with resolve.
“Three days from now,” he declared, “we shall hold a great feast—an honor for our new daughter.
A celebration of life, of strength, and of our family’s enduring legacy.” And so, amid the cold stones and flickering torchlight, the Stark family welcomed their newest member, their joy echoing through the halls of Winterfell—an unbreakable bond forged anew on this blessed day.
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