Back in the Sage’s room, the atmosphere had loosened the moment the Pope’s presence left the corridor.
Roland stood near the window, arms folded, looking faintly uncomfortable under Jiro’s expectant stare. Tsunade sat on the edge of a low chair, posture still careful because of her injuries, but the worst of the formal stiffness had drained away.
“So,” Jiro said, “you were both gone for an entire hour because the Pope summoned you for a full report?”
Roland cleared his throat. “Well, more or less, I would say. The first half of that hour Lady Tsunade was still unconscious, you see. I had to begin the account alone, everything from the market incident to the ambush at the gates. When she woke, she completed the rest. His Holiness wanted every detail while the events were still fresh.”
Jiro frowned. “Couldn’t it have waited until after things settled? You two had just finished a fight that nearly killed you. And she’s…” He glanced at Tsunade and hesitated. “She’s his daughter, isn’t she? Why does he treat her like that? Doesn’t he care about her well-being?”
Something flickered across Tsunade’s face, small, quickly hidden, but not quickly enough. Jiro caught it. The tone of his voice shifted for half a second before he deliberately softened his tone.
“Whatever. I’m new here. I don’t know the rules or the people yet. So, leaving me alone in a room with no news at all… that wasn’t kind. I kept wondering if you were even still breathing.”
Roland bowed his head at once. “My apologies, Sage-sama. Truly. Multiple times over. It will not happen again. Forgive this sinner.”
Tsunade exhaled and straightened.
Uhh, the reason we came now is more practical, Jiro-sama. Noble families from across the country have arranged a banquet in your honor. We were sent to escort you. I believe you were given a second set of formal clothes, correct?”
Jiro nodded toward the folded garments still resting on the side table.
“Good. Change into those. The banquet is being held in the rear gardens of the Temple grounds. Security there is tight; nothing like the gate incident will happen again, don’t worry. That was just completely unexpected. Only those three fools would have been arrogant enough to try something so direct.”
Jiro’s expression sharpened with interest. “Uhh, Tsunade-san, back there…it seemed like you clearly knew them. Who were they actually? That question has been sitting in my head since the fight ended.”
Tsunade’s mouth tightened. For a moment she looked as though she might answer, then the willingness drained from her eyes. Roland noticed the change at once. He stepped forward, placed a polite but firm hand near her elbow, and guided her toward the door.
“Sage-sama, there will be time for that conversation later. Right now the guests are waiting. Please change quickly. We will be just outside.”
The door closed behind them before Jiro could press further.
He stood alone in the quiet room, staring at the polished wood for a few seconds. The source of this chapter is g.com.
‘Well… I’ll learn about it soon enough, I guess.’
He changed without further delay. The second set of clothes was even finer than the first, deeper blue, with subtle golden threading along the cuffs and collar that shone because of the lantern light. When he stepped into the corridor, Tsunade looked him up and down once and gave a small, approving hum.
“That didn’t take long.”
Jiro only offered a tired half-smile.
Tsunade’s eyes glinted with faint amusement. “At least you look handsome enough. Most of the noble houses will start trying to push their daughters toward you before the first course is finished. Mark my words. So, you should prepare yourself for that.”
Jiro said nothing. The three of them turned and began walking toward the rear gardens, the soft sound of their footsteps swallowed by the long stone halls of the Temple.
*****
As the rear gardens of the Temple were already filling with music and the low hum of noble conversation, the scene shifted far away from the capital, back to the quiet dirt paths and thatched roofs of Doldia.
Inside the single-room house that still smelled faintly of dried herbs and woodsmoke, Kushina Namikaze sat on the edge of an old bed. An unfinished tunic of Jiro’s lay across her lap, one of the simpler ones he used to wear for herb-gathering. Her needle moved in small, precise stitches, but her eyes were distant. The porridge she had cooked that morning sat untouched on the low table, long since gone cold. She had not eaten since the column of Temple knights disappeared down the western road two days earlier.
Suddenly the door to her house slid open. Minato Namikaze stepped inside, brushing dust from his sleeves, the scent of the crop fields still clinging to him. He took one look at his wife’s posture and the untouched food, and the easy smile he usually wore faded into something quieter.
“What’s this?” he asked, setting his tools aside. “Sour face again. And you haven’t touched your lunch, either. What is going on, Kushina? Talk to me.”
Kushina did not look up. Her needle kept moving.
Minato crossed the room in two strides, settled behind her on the bed, and wrapped both arms around her waist. His hands, rough from work, slid upward with familiar boldness and cupped her full breasts through the thin fabric of her dress, giving them a slow, proprietary squeeze.
“Cut it out, you pervert,” she muttered, though she did not pull away at once. “Does your head ever hold anything except filthy thoughts?”
He chuckled against the side of her neck, with a low and warm breath tickling her. “Hah. Sorry, honey. You looked so worried I thought a little attention might cheer you up. You’ve been like this for two days straight. What is going through your mind, dear? Tell me what is troubling you?”
Kushina finally set the needle down. Her voice came out tight without looking or turning at him. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“As if that would fix anything. My heart is aching for our son, and you’re over here making jokes. He’s your son too. Why aren’t you worried at all?”
Minato’s hands stilled. He turned her gently but firmly by the chin until she had no choice but to meet his eyes. The playful glint was gone; in its place sat the steady, weathered certainty.
“Listen well, wife. Our boy is not as soft as you always imagine. Wherever he goes, he will thrive. You can take your man’s word on that. And yes, this is the first time he’s left home, but we always knew the day would eventually come, didn’t we? We tried to prepare him as best we could. But we can’t keep coddling him forever, can we? Sooner or later every young man has to leave the nest and walk his own road. That’s simply his fate… the same fate that once belonged to his old man, too.”
He brushed a thumb across her cheek.
“I only stopped my growth in this small village after a lonnng life of mine. Just because I met you, the love of my life. Sacrificing everything for love was only possible because it was you, dear. Otherwise, do you really think someone like me would have settled here? And the same blood runs in Jiro, my son. You managed to keep him close longer than most could have, but he was always going to leave and see the world for himself. Either we like it or not, that’s the nature of a cultivator’s blood. We never forget our roots… but those roots can’t hold us in one place forever.”
Kushina’s eyes got blurred with water. “I know. That’s exactly why it hurts. No matter what I did, he still had to go. I know people are watching over him now, but a mother’s heart doesn’t care about that. What if something happens and we aren’t there? What if we only hear about it when it’s already too late?”
Minato pulled her fully against his chest, one broad hand cradling the back of her head, the other steady at the small of her back. Her soft body molded to his sturdy chest without resistance.
“There you go again, inventing disasters in your head. I already told you, didn’t I? I know the real father of that lady knight who came to fetch him. She said she’ll keep him safe for my sake. I told you before, didn’t I? Her old man and I were close once. He owed me more than a few favors.”
Kushina’s voice was muffled against his shirt. “And what does that have to do with her? Just because you and her father were friends, she’ll risk herself for our son?”
“I can tell,” Minato said quietly. “Even if she wasn’t raised by him, she has his eyes and the same expressions on her face. We cultivators learn to read people differently. Believe me when I say she carries her real father’s conviction and sense of honor. Plus she gave me her word, too. So, I know for sure she’ll keep it… even if it costs her life.”
Kushina pressed her face harder into his chest and muttered, “You’d better be right. If anything happens to our boy, I’ll crush this thing of yours.”
Her hand slipped down and gave a firm, warning squeeze through his loose pants. Minato let out a theatrical yelp that turned into a laugh.
“Mercy, woman! Don't crush my thing this early. How am I going to please you at night then?!”
Before she could answer he tilted her face up and claimed her mouth in a deep, unhurried kiss. Kushina resisted for half a breath, then melted into it, fingers curling in the front of his tunic. When he finally let her breathe, she was already flushed.
“It’s still early…” she whispered.
Minato’s smile turned wicked and fond at the same time. “So what if it’s early? There’s no one left in the house to get embarrassed. Let’s enjoy the quiet while we can, whenever we want.”
He guided her back onto the familiar mattress. Outside, a pair of sparrows that had been resting on the roof eaves took sudden flight as the first soft, unmistakable sounds of the Namikaze couple’s love-making in broad daylight drifted through the thin walls and up into the afternoon air.