Konoha Year 25, winter.
The Imperial Palace, Side Hall.
The snow outside the window had just stopped. Thin clouds scattered, and cold moonlight poured down, covering the carved window lattice and gilding the entire hall in icy silver.
Mikoto knelt upright beside the bed in a standard black maid uniform, a plain white apron tied neatly at her waist. Her long hair was pinned up meticulously, revealing her slender neck.
Her hands rested one over the other on her knees. She sat with her head lowered, her posture straight yet utterly deferential, without making the slightest sound.
After a month in the palace, she had already grown accustomed to everything here.
Not to her lowly status, but to the unfamiliarity and constraints that repeated day after day. Her former identity, her past life, everything that had belonged to her had been stripped away completely by this secluded palace. The daily discipline and restrictions, the oppression of rank, reminded her at every moment-she was no longer the Uchiha Mikoto she had once been, only a maid in this Palace who observed the rules and obeyed every command.
The hall doors made a soft sound as someone slowly pushed them open.
Toyotomi Yinglang walked in at an unhurried pace, wearing simple dark gray leisure clothes. His long black hair hung loosely over his shoulders, his bearing cold and aloof, carrying an inherent pressure that looked down upon all living beings.
He glanced indifferently at the seated Mikoto, walked over to sit beside the bed, and spoke in an even voice. "Come here."
Mikoto rose at his command and walked steadily before him with light steps.
"Kneel."
There was no delay, no hesitation.
Mikoto lowered both knees to the floor, leaning slightly forward in the most proper, most submissive posture of obedience.
This