The night deepened.
Customers left the tavern one by one until only their table remained.
The owner didn’t rush them, just dozed behind the counter, the warm yellow lamplight casting a drowsy glow over the entire space.
Souji maintained his training posture, hands folded, chakra circulating slowly through his meridians.
But his attention had long since scattered.
Beneath the black cloth, his gaze rested on the woman across from him.
Tsunade was drunk.
She leaned against the table, one hand propping up her chin, her long blonde hair cascading down, a few strands clinging to her cheeks while others fell across her chest.
Her traditional robe’s collar was already cut low, and with the way she was sitting, it had slipped even farther down one shoulder, revealing a broad expanse of snow-white skin and her delicate collarbones.
Below them, the robe could hardly conceal her voluptuous curves, which looked especially soft in the dim lamplight, rising and falling gently with her breathing as though they might slip free of the loosened neckline at any moment.
Her cheeks were flushed, her lips full and glossy from the sake, a trace of moisture glistening at the corner of her mouth in the light.
A fox enchantress.
The words suddenly surfaced in Souji’s mind.
The usually sharp and commanding Tsunade-hime was now entirely suffused with a lazy, unguarded bewilderment.
Like a drowsy lioness, or a drunken fox.
Her eyelashes drooped, casting fan-shaped shadows on her eyelids.
Her golden eyes lacked focus, staring blankly in some unfixed direction, her gaze passing through the tavern’s walls, through the night, to somewhere far away.
It was a place Souji could never enter.
He lowered his gaze, then quickly lifted it again.
Stealing glances like this wasn’t something he would normally do, but he had done it too many times tonight.
Every time he looked away, his gaze would drift back before long.
Not because of her allure at this moment.
But because of that thin layer of sorrow in her eyes, nearly spilling over.
Tsunade’s lips moved, soundlessly.
But Souji could read her lips.
She was saying a name.
“Dan…” That syllable escaped her lips like a sigh, soft as smoke.
Then the corners of her eyes trembled slightly.
Something glistened in them but never fell.
She blinked, and the moisture was gone.
Her lips moved again.
“Nawaki…
I miss…
I miss you both so much…” This time, her voice carried a faint tremor.
Souji’s breath caught.
Nawaki, Dan Kato.
Two names escaped the same woman’s lips, so light, yet heavy enough to crush the entire tavern.
Tsunade’s eyelashes quivered, her gaze still unfocused.
She reached for the sake bottle, but her fingers slid past it, grasping nothing.
Her hand hung in the air, then slowly withdrew, resting back on the table.
She lowered her head, her blonde hair falling to cover most of her face.
Her shoulders trembled ever so slightly.
Very lightly.
So slight it was almost imperceptible.
But Souji saw it.
His fingers curled slightly within his sleeve.
In that moment, he suddenly wanted to do something: for example, walk over and take away the empty sake bottle before her, or say something, even if it was just “Tsunade-sama, it’s time to go.” But his feet felt nailed to the floor.
He couldn’t take a single step.
He had no right.
They were travel companions, healer and patient, teacher and student.
Nothing more.
Those tender moments, those unintentional glimpses of vulnerability, were merely the effects of alcohol, merely illusions brought on by the late hour.
When the sun rose tomorrow, Tsunade would still be the same Tsunade: acerbic, sharp, lazy, and keeping everyone at arm’s length.
Souji lowered his gaze, lifted the tea before him that had long since gone cold, and took a sip.
Bitter.
Even more bitter than before.
Just then, the noren curtain moved.
Night wind poured in through the parted curtain, carrying the harbor’s distinctive salty sea air.
With it came a tall figure.
A dark-skinned man, tall and straight, wearing a forehead protector from the Hidden Cloud Village.
He wore the standard Hidden Cloud jonin vest.
He had rather gentle features.
His breathing was somewhat hurried, as though he had been running all the way here, but his movements remained restrained.
He stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping across the tavern once before settling on Tsunade.
He hurried over, his steps light, with the caution of someone well trained.
Reaching the table, he dropped to one knee.
His movements were as respectful as if he were paying homage to a daimyo.
“You must be one of Konoha’s legendary Sannin, Tsunade-sama!
I have a request.
Please, I beg of you!” Tsunade lifted her head.
Her unfocused gaze rested on his face for two seconds before she frowned.
Her voice was rough, carrying both drunkenness and impatience.
“Who are you?
What do you want?” The dark-skinned shinobi didn’t react to her tone.
Instead, he immediately dropped into a full dogeza before Tsunade.
“I am a shinobi of the Hidden Cloud Village.
My name is Amai.
I apologize for the intrusion, but my comrade is severely injured.
I beg you to save him!” He spoke quickly, but his words were well organized and sincere.
“Hah.” Tsunade let out a scoff, leaning lazily against the wall behind her as she glanced at him.
“You’re a medical ninja from the Hidden Cloud, aren’t you?” “Yes!” Amai replied immediately.
“Then if your comrade is hurt, can’t you treat him yourself?” “It’s beyond my abilities.” Amai remained in his prostrating posture without daring to lift his head, his demeanor perfectly deferential.
“Hmm?” Tsunade smiled, then poured herself another cup of sake.
As though no one else were there, she drained it in a single gulp.
Letting out a breath tinged with alcohol, she said, “I refuse.” Amai hurriedly looked up, his voice filled with urgency.
“Why?
If it’s a matter of payment, I…
we…” “Hmph.
What right do Cloud ninja have to come begging Konoha?” She poured herself another cup, her expression filled with impatience.
“You lot, the shinobi world’s robbers, trying to steal the Hyuga Clan’s Byakugan.” “Didn’t our villages already settle that matter?” Amai quickly explained, his voice carrying a hint of grievance.
After all, the plan to steal the Byakugan had nothing to do with him or his companion.
“What shameless words from those who benefited from it…” Tsunade let out a derisive snort.
Her expression was displeased, yet tinged with helplessness, as she drained the cup once more.
Others might not understand why Tsunade wore such an expression.
But Souji knew exactly what that smile meant.
That Third Hokage.
Tsunade’s teacher.
Though no one could doubt Hiruzen Sarutobi’s love for the village, as Hokage, some of his decisions had become disappointingly weak.
The Shinobi Hero who had once led the village to victory through two Great Ninja Wars had now inevitably grown old and lost his judgment.
How tragic.