104 I Don't Know

The garden around them was a masterpiece of nature—each flower handpicked and planted to create a symphony of colors. The lilacs swayed gently, their purple blooms contrasting with the fiery red of the roses nearby. In the heart of the garden, a majestic cherry blossom tree stood, its petals painting the ground pink.

Pulling back slightly, her eyes shining with a mix of emotions, Mikoto inquired, "When did you... figure it out?" She referred, of course, to her pregnancy.

Kai tilted his head in thought for a brief moment, his fingers idly brushing against the back of her hand. "A few days ago," he began, choosing his words carefully, "I can feel my blood growing within you. It's not something many would notice."

She blinked in surprise, her eyes widening slightly. "And you're certain?"

A nod was his response, his touch lingering on her abdomen, reassuring in its presence.

She sighed, processing the weight of his revelation. "And Tsunade, Samui, Mito? Do they...?"

Kai shook his head, "They don't know yet. You're the first."

Mikoto's heart swelled, appreciating the trust and intimacy of that gesture. There was an unspoken acknowledgment between them, a shared sentiment that didn't require a cascade of words.

A cool breeze swirled around them, carrying with it the scent of the blossoming flowers from the garden. The tranquility of the morning, amplified by their shared moment, felt like a fleeting oasis in a world that was too often cruel and unyielding.

Drawing closer, she whispered, her voice tinged with a hint of playfulness, "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" She giggled, her fingers dancing across the nape of his neck.

Kai gently embraced Mikoto once more, the warmth of their bond tangible in the morning air. Pulling back just slightly, he softly pressed his lips to hers—a brief, tender moment that spoke of promises and silent assurances.

Standing up with the inherent grace that came from years of training and combat, he softly maneuvered Mikoto onto the bench, ensuring her comfort. "I have to go. I'll be back before sunset," he stated simply, his voice holding a hint of finality.

Mikoto reached out, her deft fingers adjusting his attire, ensuring every detail was in place. It was a simple, wifely gesture that seemed natural given their shared moment earlier. "Stay safe," she whispered, leaning in to capture his lips in another gentle kiss.

He responded with a nod, his way of acknowledging her sentiment without diving into an elaborate discussion. Turning to leave, he paused as Mikoto's hand grazed his arm, silently urging him to look back.

"Kai," she began, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern, "Will Mei join us?"

Her question was obvious. With a tangled web of relations and past encounters, Mikoto wanted to know where Mei would fit into Kai's life, especially after the revelation of Mikoto's own pregnancy. Mikoto tried to mask her feelings, but inside, a storm of emotions raged. The idea of sharing Kai with someone new from his past, especially someone like Mei, was unsettling. However, she understood that Kai's world was filled with complex relationships and decisions. She hoped, deep down, that their impending parenthood would solidify their bond.

Kai's dark eyes met Mikoto's, weighing the depth of her query. Shaking his head slowly, he answered, "I don't know."

Mikoto tilted her head slightly, prompting him to continue. The air was charged with an unspoken question.

"I was with Mei," he admitted, his voice unwavering. "Not for love, but an attempt from her side to bind me to the Mist Village."

Mikoto's gaze softened. She knew how Kai functioned, and how he resented attempts to chain him. She also understood the implications of his words. For Kai, his associations weren't mere dalliances; they were more profound. There was a gravity to them, and even when not motivated by love, they held importance.

She pressed on, her voice gentle but insistent. "Did she know you wouldn't stay?"

Kai's gaze traveled to a distant point, recalling the incident. "I made it clear. Tying me down wasn't going to make me part of her village. But she persisted."

Kai's mind flashed back to that evening in the Mist Village. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation. Mei had called him, her eyes revealing intentions that she dared not speak aloud. With a soft voice, she had tried to appeal to him, hinting at a bond she hoped they could share. But Kai, even then a free spirit, felt no connection. The very act meant to tie him down made him realize how different their worlds were. 'This won't make me loyal to the Mist,' he had told her, feeling her emotions to be surface-level, a stark contrast to the profound bonds he shared with others like Tsunade.

Mikoto, absorbing his words, pondered aloud, "Was it hope on her part, perhaps? Or something else?"

A pause lingered between them. It wasn't just about Mei. Their entire dynamic was riddled with choices and the complexities those choices brought with them. And yet, in this very garden, a place of solace, they were making sense of it all.

Kai finally replied, "Perhaps both. Maybe it was hope, a drive, or some emotion I can't decipher."

Mikoto gently touched his arm, a silent ask for him to look at her. "Would you want her to join us?"

It was a straightforward question, but the gravity it held was palpable. Kai considered the question. Mei was a part of his past, but did she fit into his future? His present was intricate, tangled with bonds of various depths and hues.

He met Mikoto's gaze, "I don't know." It was a truthful admittance, and perhaps the most Kai-esque response.

Mikoto nodded, appreciating the honesty. While they had ventured into deeper waters, her trust in Kai remained unshaken. "Regardless of what you decide, remember that we're in this together. Every step, every choice."

His response was, characteristically, a nod. Words might often elude him, but Mikoto had learned to read the silences, the pauses, the nods, and the actions.

Once Kai disappeared from sight, Mikoto's attention turned back to the garden. She slowly knelt, her fingers brushing against the soft petals of a bluebell. Her heart was lighter, hope and joy intermingling with her newfound knowledge. She imagined a little child, their child, laughing and running around, plucking flowers, and chasing butterflies. The thought brought a gentle smile to her face. The garden, she mused, would need some additions—a swing, perhaps, or a small pond with fish. She started tending to the plants, lost in dreams of a future filled with family and love.

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