‘It’s time for another stage…’ Ryusei thought as he watched her tremble, her chest heaving with guilt and anger.

She was breaking too much, too fast.

If he pushed her further now, she might collapse fully into bitterness and regret instead of becoming useful.

So he let out a long, weary sigh, softening his expression as though he’d finally released something heavy inside himself.

“…You were broken back then,” he said slowly, almost reluctantly. “That’s why you didn’t see it. I can’t hold that against you anymore. Seeing you now, hearing your words… It’s enough for me. I forgive you. I accept you.”

To Tsunade, the words struck like a floodgate breaking. Exoneration.

She had braced for scorn, had expected nothing but resentment from him forever.

Yet here he stood, less than half her age, weaker a dozen times probably in shinobi strength, and yet the only one in the entire world with the right to judge her on this.

The true last Senju, unlike her who was not qualified anymore.

And he had chosen to absolve her so easily.

Her hands trembled as she reached forward, almost without thinking, and took his.

His skin was warm beneath her touch, the contact strange, grounding.

She searched his face and saw no mockery there, only respect and even some closeness, where there had once been distance.

Something inside her loosened.

Ryusei, meanwhile, grinned inwardly. ‘Hook, line, and sinker.’

The more indifferent he pretended to be at first, the more this warm imprint would be felt, remembered, and valued later.

Outwardly, he only gave her a small nod, as though the gesture meant nothing.

Realization hit Tsunade moments later, and she released his hands quickly, flustered. “…Sorry,” she murmured, her voice unsteady.

“I just… got carried away. You don’t deserve words of consolation from me. I admit my fault. But I’ll make up for it. I’ll protect you from now on.”

Her eyes were still puffy, red from tears, but that only made her look more striking to Ryusei, almost radiant in her vulnerability.

He turned serious, his voice steady. “Even if you mean that, as you are now… You can’t protect me for long. I’ve already thought about what comes next, how to survive after today.”

Her breath caught. The bluntness of his words reminded her of Takeshi again—straightforward, cutting, without flattery.

She asked quietly, almost pleading, “Then what are your goals? What do you want?”

“Just to survive,” Ryusei answered. His voice was simple, but his almond-shaped eyes, which he opened fully for the first time, gleamed sharp and foxy, carrying sincerity that struck her harder than any oath could.

Tsunade stared at him, her heart twisting. He resembled Takeshi so much, his face, his aura, his maturity at such a young age.

But unlike Takeshi, Ryusei stood here wounded, hunted, carrying more strength and scars than any boy his age should.

‘How much did you suffer to reach this point? How much did you endure to survive this long?’

She clenched her fists, then loosened them. Her voice was steadier now, resolute.

“Don’t worry. Now that I have a purpose again, I won’t live like before. I’ll return to my peak fast. Maybe I can’t bring back the Senju, maybe I can’t avenge everything… but I can protect you. That much I swear.”

Ryusei’s smile turned warm, almost tender. “I understand. But even you can’t face the village machine alone. So don’t try. Just help me. Listen to my plan. Together, we’ll have a chance.”

Tsunade froze at that, pride sparking inside her.

But then another, sharper wave of anger rose.

Because the more she thought about it, the more she realized he was right.

If Hiruzen had been willing to erase the founding Senju clan, his teacher’s clan, then what would stop him from ignoring her wishes again?

What would stop him from arranging some quiet plot against Ryusei, or even against her, while blaming it all on Danzo and Root afterward?

She hated to admit it, but the possibility was real.

Her jaw tightened. “…Fine. I’ll listen.”

Then, softening, she added, “But first, you’ll come with me. The next few days, you’ll heal under my care. We’ll make plans then.”

Her hands glowed with green healing chakra as she pressed them gently against his body, feeding energy into his chakra coils.

Ryusei let out a faint breath, leaning into it. The warmth of her chakra filled him, her fragrance close, the press of her body near enough for him to feel those legendary curves behind him. He nearly laughed at how absurdly close they had become in so short a time.

‘If only the old fans from my world could see this now…’

Tsunade didn’t even seem to notice.

Her proximity tolerance to him was already shockingly high; she touched him openly, healed him directly, her presence brushing against him again and again as they walked together.

Katsuyu had long since dispersed, leaving only the two of them, side by side, moving deeper into the forest as if nothing else in the world existed.

***

Another half a day passed. Inside one of the temporary hideouts among the Second Division’s wounded, Ryusei sat quietly, his body fully restored.

His pale, slit-eyed face had regained rosy color, his features sharp again.

He had even changed into a fresh shinobi uniform, this one marked with Konoha’s medical insignia, a subtle signal that Tsunade herself had arranged his placement.

She hadn’t been able to heal him the whole time, only stopping by in intervals, but his abnormal chakra recovery had done the rest.

His body and mind felt one hundred percent again.

Yet what truly made him grin was not the healing itself, but how, even at his lowest, he had still acted perfectly.

He had worn the mask of the desperate boy flawlessly, convincing Tsunade, drawing her close, and pushing through the first wall between them.

She hadn’t placed him among the hopeless, the ones too wounded to live.

Nor even among the general wounded.

Instead, he had been given a space closer to the medical corps resting area itself, though still slightly apart.

He noticed the curious looks of some medical shinobi passing by, but none dared ask.

In their eyes, who could possibly question Tsunade’s arrangements?

Who could claim to understand the decisions of one of the Legendary Sannin?

By the time another full day of healing had gone by, Tsunade returned once more, her steps slower, her eyes shadowed with fatigue.

She had carried the division’s burdens on her back the whole day, yet she still came to check on him.

During the walk back from the last wounded station, they had already spoken much about his upbringing, his struggles, the constant brushes with death that had defined his life, especially recently, after he graduated around 8 months ago.

Tsunade had listened quietly, sometimes even too quietly, her eyes softening when she thought he wasn’t looking.

Each exchange pulled them closer, sympathy binding her more tightly to him.

Yet, Ryusei knew better than to mistake it for victory.

Sympathy was only the opening act.

‘No man conquers a woman by playing weak,’ he thought coldly, ‘Only the strong can take the center of her heart.’

He wasn’t there yet.

Not strong enough, not developed enough, and not with the right opportunity.

For now, this role, as the wounded but unbroken younger kin, the cousin who carried the Senju flame when all others had fallen, was the best mask to wear.

And behind it, he would prepare for the moment he could drop it.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep