---
Hanekawa set down his chopsticks and stretched. "I'm tired, little maid."
Mei Terumi rolled her eyes from across the table. "Then go to bed. I've been working all day and nobody's offering me a massage."
"Fair point." Hanekawa patted the space beside him on the couch. "Come here."
"What are you—"
"As your master, my authority is absolute." He gestured to his lap with mock seriousness. "Feet. Now."
Mei Terumi's face flushed, but she kicked off her maid shoes and stretched her legs across his lap anyway. The white silk stockings caught the lamplight as Hanekawa's hands found her feet, working the tension from her muscles with practiced precision.
She tensed immediately. "What are you—"
"Relax." His thumbs pressed into her arch, and she bit her lip to stifle a sound. "Comfortable?"
"No!" The word came out too quickly, too defensive.
"You're adorable when you're flustered." Hanekawa pinched her ankle, and Mei Terumi's toes curled involuntarily.
"Stop praising me," she muttered, her face deepening to crimson.
"If I don't praise you, should I scold you instead?" He traced the curve of her calf, his medical knowledge making every touch precise. "Your muscles are tight."
"Of course they are!" Mei Terumi answered before catching herself. "I mean—stop that!"
"How is it that a little maid has more rules than her master?" Hanekawa applied pressure to a specific point, and Mei Terumi's breath hitched. She quickly covered her mouth, mortification flooding her features.
"Take off your stockings," he said matter-of-factly.
"Why?" Her heart hammered against her ribs.
"Master's orders. Don't ask questions."
Mei Terumi hesitated for several seconds before reaching down. She peeled the stockings halfway down her calves and stopped, suddenly self-conscious. Hanekawa finished the job with a gentle tug, his eyes traveling from her delicate ankles up the curve of her fair calves, across the smooth expanse of her thighs—until the maid skirt blocked his view.
"Skin like snow," he murmured, his fingers resuming their work. "Flawless."
"Stop... stop saying things like that..." Mei Terumi's voice wavered. This was her first time having anyone touch her feet, her legs. The sensation was overwhelming—part discomfort, part something she couldn't name. She hummed softly despite herself, her face burning.
"How does it feel?" Hanekawa asked, his eyes meeting hers.
"Like you're a pervert!" she snapped, but the accusation lacked heat. By the time she realized it, her exhaustion had completely vanished. Her entire body felt light, rejuvenated. Can he really be this good at everything?
"I give you a free massage and you insult me?" Hanekawa feigned offense. "Harsh."
Mei Terumi's irritation melted into something softer. "Thank you," she said quietly, looking away.
"So how will you repay me?" His smile turned mischievous.
"Why are you still touching my feet?"
"The massage isn't finished." He repositioned her feet, his fingers finding the pressure points on her soles. Mei Terumi's body went rigid, a small sound escaping her throat.
"Enjoying it?" he asked, amusement clear in his voice.
"Where is this going?" She felt flustered under his gaze, so she turned her head away.
"You still haven't told me how you're repaying me."
"You already took advantage of me. What more do you want?" Mei Terumi pouted.
"This isn't taking advantage." Hanekawa released her feet and stood, moving closer. "Not yet, anyway."
"What... what are you doing?" Mei Terumi leaned back instinctively, her body pressing against the sofa. Her maid skirt rode up slightly with the movement.
Hanekawa didn't answer. He simply bent down, his face drawing closer to hers.
"You and I..." Mei Terumi's words trailed off, her eyes widening. As the distance between them closed, heat flooded her cheeks. She looked at him, bit her lip, and then—surrendering to impulse—closed her eyes.
What is he—
Hanekawa kissed her.
Her eyes snapped open in shock. But he didn't stop at a simple kiss. His lips moved against hers with purpose, and Mei Terumi found herself drowning in sensations she'd never experienced. Her mouth went dry. Her body softened. Her vision blurred with tears she didn't understand.
When he finally pulled away, she was gasping for breath, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed.
"That's called taking advantage," Hanekawa said, licking the corner of his mouth.
Mei Terumi stared at him in a daze, her red lips parted, her breathing ragged. How is he so skilled at this? It was my first kiss...
"I'm hungry," Hanekawa announced, standing up. "Time to cook."
"I... I don't know how to cook," Mei Terumi said weakly, still recovering.
"I'll handle it." He headed toward the kitchen.
Mei Terumi slumped against the sofa, pressing two fingers to her lips. That pervert. How is he so good at everything?
She picked up her stockings and pulled them back on, her movements automatic. Without quite meaning to, she found herself standing in the kitchen doorway, watching Hanekawa work. He was using Fire Style to cook—controlling the flames with such precision that the food sizzled perfectly without burning. What kind of chakra control is this?
"Why are you standing there?" he asked, glancing back.
"When will it be ready?" she asked, deflecting.
"Soon."
Mei Terumi curled her lips. Pervert. In every possible way.
---
After dinner, Hanekawa left as mysteriously as he'd arrived, using the Flying Thunder God Technique. Mei Terumi stood alone in the living room, feeling oddly abandoned.
"He didn't even say goodbye," she muttered, disappointed.
Then he reappeared in front of her without warning.
"You're always so elusive," she said, glaring at him even as her lips curved upward.
"This is for you." He produced a small jewelry box. "Consider it a celebration of your becoming the Fifth Mizukage."
Mei Terumi took it, her anticipation building. A bracelet? A necklace?
She opened it.
"You really are a foot fetishist," she said dryly.
Inside was an anklet—delicate, elegant, and unmistakably designed to draw attention to her legs.
"See you tomorrow," Hanekawa said, and vanished.
---
Konoha
The night was deep. Hanekawa entered Tsunade's bedroom without knocking. The lights were off, but his vision was perfect.
Tsunade lay on her side, her back to him. Black pajamas clung to her form, falling naturally to reveal the perfect curve of her hips and the length of her fair legs, slightly curled and overlapped.
Hanekawa approached and wrapped his arms around her from behind, his hand sliding along her thigh.
Tsunade's eyes opened. She glanced at him, then rolled onto her back.
Hanekawa's breath caught.
She pinched the hem of her pajamas and lifted them, exposing herself completely. Her body arched in a defenseless posture, an open invitation.
Tonight, I am the King of Knights.
---
Morning
Hanekawa woke in a warm embrace, his face buried in soft skin. When he opened his eyes, he saw snow-capped mountains.
"You're awake?" Tsunade yawned beside him.
"Yeah." He inhaled her scent. "Want to rest a bit longer?"
"Am I that exhausting?" she asked, a hint of competitive irritation in her voice. Even now, she refused to admit fatigue—especially not to her student.
"Not at all," Hanekawa said quickly. "You're the best, Teacher."
It wasn't a lie. Only Tsunade could match him. Samui was willing, but she lacked Tsunade's intensity. Every night with Tsunade was a battle—one that left them both thoroughly satisfied.
Tsunade nodded, satisfied. "Go cook. Call me when it's ready."
She was genuinely tired. These nightly encounters were as demanding as fighting in the Third Ninja World War. She'd even considered asking Hanekawa to marry Kurenai Yuhi to share the burden, but that was a problem for another day.
---
Hidden Rain
Mid-February. The rain fell as it always did, indifferent to the calendar.
Nagato's eyes snapped open, excitement blazing across his face.
After months of study, he'd finally mastered the Rinnegan completely. He'd thought Chibaku Tensei was the ultimate technique, but he'd discovered something even more profound: the Reincarnation Technique.
It could resurrect the dead.
The cost was one's own life—but theoretically, with enough chakra, one could resurrect unlimited people. No upper limit.
What Black Zetsu hadn't told him was the technique's true purpose: it automatically released Impure World Reincarnation.
This was Uchiha Madara's final backup plan.
In the original timeline, Kabuto Yakushi had used Impure World Reincarnation to resurrect Madara during the Fourth Ninja World War. Madara had simply formed a seal and broken free from the technique's control. But that was because he already knew how.
The problem was that Impure World Reincarnation couldn't restore peak strength. For that, he needed the Reincarnation Technique.
But the Reincarnation Technique only resurrected—it didn't rejuvenate.
The solution was elegant: Nagato would resurrect Madara while he was still bound by Impure World Reincarnation. The Reincarnation Technique would automatically release him from the technique's control, but he would retain the body of his youth—the body Madara had deliberately preserved for exactly this purpose.
A perfect resurrection. A perfect backup plan.
And Nagato had no idea he was executing it.
---