Konoha Hospital, a patient room.
The window was half-open, and the wind blew the sheer curtains into an arc.
Tsunade sat by the bedside, her chin resting on the edge of the bed, staring at Kitahara Kaede’s face.
She hadn’t moved from that spot since he was brought into the hospital.
When the nurse came to change his dressings, Tsunade watched the nurse’s hands the entire time.
Removing the bandages, applying medicine, re-wrapping—she watched every step intently.
The nurse was so nervous under her gaze that she almost smeared the ointment wrong.
Jiraiya had stopped by once.
With his right arm in a sling and a bag of apples in his left hand, he leaned against the doorframe.
“The doctor said it’s just Chakra exhaustion; he’ll be fine after a few days of rest.”
Tsunade didn’t move.
Jiraiya scratched his head and placed the apples on the bedside table.
“…I’ll come back tomorrow.”
Tsunade gave a soft hum.
The door closed.
The room was left with only the sound of cicadas outside and his shallow breathing.
Tsunade buried her face in her arms, remaining still for a long time.
When she looked up again, her eyes were a little red.
—When did it start?
Getting used to him being by her side.
Getting used to him knowing what she was thinking.
Getting used to him knowing she was just putting on a brave face the moment she said, “I’m fine.”
And getting used to him getting hurt.
Back at the Ninja Academy, a Kunai had pierced his palm, blood dripping from between his fingers, and he had said it didn’t matter.
What about this time?
After the Chidori pierced his chest, he had collapsed immediately.
She had rushed over, turned his body over, and pressed two fingers to his neck—at that moment, her hands were shaking.
His pulse was weak, so weak she almost mistook it for her own heartbeat.
In that instant, her mind went blank.
Every time, it was like this.
Every time, he rushed in front of her.
By the time she reacted, he was already injured.
Then he would say with that overly calm expression, “It’s nothing.”
Tsunade’s fingers clenched tight.
She reached out and brushed the stray hair from his forehead.
Her fingertips paused slightly when they touched his forehead.
It was cold.
She didn’t pull her hand back, letting it fall onto the back of his hand.
Without even realizing it, her fingers curled, clasping his hand tightly in her palm.
She gripped it hard.
“You always say it’s nothing.”
Her voice was very soft, spoken to herself.
“But when you were lying on the ground motionless, was that ‘nothing’?”
No one answered.
She lowered her head, resting her forehead against the back of his hand.
“I will get stronger.”
“Strong enough that you won’t have to block for me again…”
She didn’t know when she fell asleep.
…
When she woke up again, it was dark outside the window.
Only the small bedside lamp was on in the room.
Her neck was extremely sore.
Tsunade frowned, rubbed the back of her neck, and sat up groggily.
Then she met a gaze.
Kitahara Kaede’s eyes were open.
She didn’t know how long he had been awake, just lying there with his head turned, watching her.
Tsunade froze for a second.
Before her mind could catch up, her eyes grew hot.
“You’re awake?”
Kitahara Kaede nodded.
Tsunade stared at him for two seconds, confirming he was truly awake and truly looking at her.
A bellyful of words surged up—she wanted to ask if it hurt, wanted to ask why he rushed in without saying a word, wanted to scold him for being a liar.
There was too much, all crowding together, and in the end, she couldn’t say anything.
Kitahara Kaede tilted his head and looked at her reddened eyes.
The corners of his mouth moved slightly.
“What’s wrong?”
Tsunade didn’t react.
“Who died?”
“…”
Tsunade grabbed his collar.
She didn’t hold back her strength.
Kitahara Kaede’s head was yanked up from the pillow, and the wound on his side was strained, causing him to gasp.
But that slight curve still hung on the corners of his mouth.
Tsunade saw it.
“You’re still smiling.”
“Your Chakra was so exhausted your heartbeat almost stopped, and you’re still smiling?
You were lying there motionless, not responding to me—”
Her voice broke off.
Her hand was still clutching his collar, but her grip loosened.
“Do you have any idea how I…”
The second half of the sentence didn’t come out.
Kitahara Kaede looked at her.
“Sorry” was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say it—it wasn’t that he didn’t want to apologize, but those two words were too light.
Silence lasted for two seconds.
Tsunade let go, and his head fell back onto the pillow.
She didn’t look at him, keeping her head lowered.
“Don’t go alone next time.”
“Mm.”
“Don’t run off without saying anything.”
“Mm.”
“Keep your word.”
“I promise.”
It was quiet for a few seconds.
Tsunade took a deep breath, forcing the moisture back into her eyes.
When she looked up again, she had composed herself, her mouth set in a straight line, back to that fierce look.
“Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
“Jiraiya brought some apples.”
She turned to grab the bag on the bedside table.
She took one out, peeled it, cut it into small pieces, skewered a piece, and held it to his mouth.
Kitahara Kaede opened his mouth and took a bite.
“Is it good?”
“It’s good.”
The corners of Tsunade’s mouth lifted for a flash before disappearing.
As she held out the second piece, Kitahara Kaede spoke.
“Tsunade.”
“Hm?”
“…Thank you.”
Tsunade’s hand paused.
“What are you thanking me for?”
She skewered the third piece of apple and held it out, her voice tense.
“Stop talking nonsense, open your mouth.”
Kitahara Kaede bit the apple.
A line of text popped up in his mind—
[Simulation Mission Settlement: Land of Birds Guard Battle]
[Rating: S]
[Reward: Physical fitness permanently increased by 5%]
He went over it in his mind: Chakra extraction +5%, Ninjutsu release effect +5%, physical fitness +5%.
Three permanent buffs.
An increase in physical fitness meant enhanced cell activity, and his Chakra extraction volume would rise accordingly.
He had made a killing.
Chewing the apple, he subconsciously glanced to the side.
Then he noticed—Tsunade’s hand had stopped moving.
The apple was held in mid-air, not offered to him.
She was stunned, her gaze fixed on his hand.
To be precise, fixed on the back of his right hand.
Kitahara Kaede didn’t take it to heart; his mouth was a bit dry, and he opened his mouth to speak—
“Tsun—”
A piece of apple was shoved into his mouth.
Caught off guard, his mouth was stuffed full, the rest of his sentence blocked in his throat; he could only stare at her.
Tsunade yanked her hand back, her voice an octave higher than usual.
“Eat your food!”
Kitahara Kaede tried to say something unintelligibly.
“Don’t talk!”
She slapped the small knife onto the cabinet, turned around, and faced away from him.
The back of her neck was red all the way down to her collar.
Kitahara Kaede looked confused.
He hadn’t done anything; his mouth was just dry, and he wanted her to pour him a glass of water, that’s all.
But at this moment, it seemed like saying anything wasn’t quite appropriate.
He slowly finished chewing the apple, swallowed it, and looked at her flushed neck and stiff back.
He suddenly wanted to smile.
The corners of his mouth curved up.
It was as if Tsunade had eyes in the back of her head: “What are you smiling at!”
“I’m not smiling.”
“You are definitely smiling.”
“I’m really not.”
“…Try smiling again.”
He wisely shut his mouth.
What Kitahara Kaede didn’t know was that during those few dozen seconds while Tsunade had her back to him, her mind had been a total mess.
She was thinking about one thing.
—When exactly had her hand separated from his?
Before she fell asleep, she had clearly been holding his hand.
When she woke up, her hand was already resting on her own knee.
What had happened in between?
Had she let go unconsciously while tossing and turning?
Or…
had he moved her hand away after he woke up?
If he had moved it—
Then he had been awake for at least a while.
He was awake, and she was still asleep.
Her hand was still holding his.
He had seen it.
And then he had put her hand back.
Tsunade’s face burned even hotter.
No, there was another possibility.
What if he hadn’t moved it?
What if after he woke up, he hadn’t moved at all?
Just let her hold it until she woke up on her own?
Then that look he gave her when he turned his head earlier—
How long had he been watching?
Tsunade’s ears were about to burn up.
Stop thinking about it.
If she kept thinking, she’d go crazy.
She desperately tried to fill her head with white noise, counting how many times the cicadas outside chirped, counting her heartbeat—
The more she counted, the faster it went.
It was useless.
Tsunade bit her lip.
It was a long time before she turned back.
The redness on her face had faded for the most part, but the tips of her ears were still pink.
She sat down in the chair, two inches further from the edge of the bed.
Her hands were placed properly on her knees.
Kitahara Kaede glanced at her hands on her knees, then at her pink ear tips.
He didn’t say anything.
He turned his head back and looked at the ceiling.
It was quiet.
The slight curve at the corners of his mouth never faded.
…
Three days later.
At the entrance of Konoha Hospital, the sun was shining brightly.
Kitahara Kaede’s Chakra had recovered for the most part, and although his left arm was still bandaged, the doctor had already signed his discharge papers.
As soon as they walked out the main gate, Jiraiya greeted them.
He had just taken off his sling yesterday, and while his right arm wasn’t completely agile, his energy had mostly recovered.
“Out already?
I came right on time.” Jiraiya leaned in, lowering his voice, “The mission has been reclassified as A-rank, so does that mean we completed an A-rank mission?”
“What did you contribute?” Tsunade didn’t look back.
“Shuriken Shadow Clone!
I pinned all three of them!”
“And then you stood there panting for five minutes.”
“That’s called a tactical rest!”
Kitahara Kaede walked between the two of them, not interrupting.
On the street, people were peddling goods, and children were running by, stepping on shadows to play.
“You three.”
The voice came from ahead.
Hiruzen Sarutobi stood under an old locust tree by the side of the road, a pipe clamped between his fingers, unlit.
He looked at Kitahara Kaede’s bandages, then at Jiraiya’s right arm, and his gaze paused on Tsunade’s face for a moment.
The matter of the Land of Birds had already been handed over to the Anbu.
The mission had been reclassified as A-rank.
There was no need to tell the three children these things.
But he remembered that he had hesitated on the day he assigned the mission.
With a C-rank mission dragging on for two months, it wasn’t that he hadn’t sensed the abnormality.
The three children had almost not made it back.
He took the blame for this debt upon himself.
“Let’s go.” He tucked his pipe into his sleeve.
“Where to?” Tsunade asked.
“To eat.
You’ve been eating at the hospital for three days; it’s time to have something good.”
Jiraiya’s eyes lit up: “Teacher is treating?”
“Mm.”
“Really?”
“Ask again and I won’t.”