“What’s the count today, ten lives saved, zero thank-yous?”

Ryusei grinned as he body flickered toward her position, closing the distance soon.

Tsunade stopped, eyeing him with that familiar mix of annoyance and amusement.

“Tch. More like thirty. And if I waited for thank-yous, I’d never get any work done.”

Ryusei tilted his head, still wearing that narrow-eyed smile.

“So you admit it. The most underappreciated shinobi on the front.”

She clicked her tongue again, brushing past him.

“Save the flattery. You’re only saying that because you want more chakra later.”

Ryusei followed with an easy stride, hands behind his head.

“Of course. You’re my greatest sponsor, after all. The one and only Senju bank.”

Her brow twitched, but the corner of her mouth almost tugged upward.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll start charging interest.”

Ryusei chuckled. “Fine by me. As long as you don’t charge per clone.”

They walked back toward her tent’s direction side by side, her silence enough of an answer. 

As they walked, Ryusei suddenly spoke again.

“Since you want to help people so much, you shouldn’t be doing it in this unnoticed way. You should be doing it openly, big, where everyone can see it. That way you’d actually be appreciated for it.”

Tsunade’s first instinct was to snap back, to assume he was mocking her roundabout. Her steps slowed instead.

She turned slightly, her amber eyes narrowing as if to study him, silent, waiting for him to explain some more.

Ryusei only grinned. “I’m not wrong. Even if you want to help people, why not do it in one big swoop? Help more at once while also building more reputation for yourself in the process.”

Her face hardened, a little anger flashing through.

“Don’t tell me you met secretly with Orochimaru behind my back.”

Her tone was lecturing, sharp.

Ryusei didn’t deny it; it would be foolish, however, nor did he admit the true extent of the contact. Instead, his grin didn’t fade as he continued, steady.

“It was Orochimaru who contacted me first today and told me about the possible breach on this front. He wanted to make me convince you to help as well. But it’s also just the most logical move. Think about it. You’d save way more people, and you’d finally reduce the load on yourself by addressing the root cause. If they’re pushed back and we seize the initiative with a counterattack, the whole front can breathe easier.”

Tsunade’s expression stayed stern, blaming, but only on the surface. Inside, she had already let go of most of it. He admitted it so fast, so bluntly, that it was hard to stay angry. She thought to herself again about the real reason she resisted him contacting Orochimaru.

It wasn’t because of some childish pride but because she felt, deep down, that Orochimaru was becoming more dangerous year by year, day by day, and was hardly the person she once knew so well. Her chakra aura sensing wasn’t as sharp as Kushina’s, but it didn’t lie. 

She sighed suddenly, massaging her temple, her voice dropping low. “Do you think I didn’t already know that? But I promised myself I would never fight in any war again after the last one. And after I learned the truth from you, I promised even more that I would never fight for this village again. The only reason I heal the wounded is because I can’t stand watching people suffer when I can help them. First and foremost, I was always a medical ninja. I learned the rest so I could heal more effectively, not to kill.”

Ryusei’s grin faded then. He turned serious, his gaze sharper.

“Didn’t you say before that you’d always protect me from now on?”

“Of course,” Tsunade cut in immediately, proudly, like it was a simple fact.

“Then the best way you can actually protect me,” Ryusei continued, “is if you get more famous. If you build even more reputation among Konoha’s forces. Then, any move the higher-ups or your former sensei try to make against you, or against me, will be much easier to deal with. Your reputation would be the best shield for both of us.”

Tsunade froze for a moment, her expression shifting as the words sank in. Slowly, she realized he was right.

Inside, she thought about her own answer to a question no one had asked her yet.

If someone asked what her biggest goal in life was at this moment, she would have said it plainly: to protect Ryusei.

She didn’t even know how to explain why.

Was it because he was nominally her last bloodline in the world, someone who should have carried the same surname?

Was it guilt, tied to his father, faction, or something else?

Or was it simply because she had grown attached to him over these past months, so much that the thought of her life returning to its bland, depressive monotony as before, again, if something happened to him, made her stomach twist, leaving her certain she would never recover if she lost him as well.

She knew only one thing for sure. She wanted to protect him. He was her last “family” now.

But not as a replacement for Nawaki or Takeshi, or anyone else. He was different.

Was it a younger cousin or a friend, a student, or someone entirely unique?

The most important person left in her life, even if she couldn’t put a neat label on it.

And maybe the greatest thing she had learned from such a smart boy wasn’t any clever theory. It was something simple, something she had forgotten along the way in her life.

Family should be the most cherished thing in the world. Everything else was secondary.

She exhaled, heavy, then looked forward again, continuing toward her tent.

“Fine,” she muttered, in her usual grumpy way.

Ryusei walked beside her with a secret grin of success.

***

The night was heavy and still.

Clouds masked the stars above the Hot Water ridges, the only light coming from the glow of campfires that flickered behind the lines.

The main body of Kumo’s strike force rested in silence, sharpening blades, checking gear, waiting.

Inside a larger tent at the center, the Third Raikage sat cross-legged, his massive frame hunched over a spread of crude sketches of the ridges and valleys ahead.

His cloak was tossed aside, muscles bare, every scar across his arms and chest lit by the fire-pit.

He traced a calloused finger over one valley in particular.

“That’s the seam,” he said, voice low but rough, carrying easily. “The Konoha had been bled down. A third of their men have gone in the last six months. They’ve been rotating scraps to cover it. If we’re going to punch through, it’s there.”

“A” stood with arms folded, looming over the map, his jaw tight.

His hair was shorter than it would be in the future, his face younger, but the sharp eyes were already the same.

“So we hit there, and we don’t stop until we reach Orochimaru’s den.”

The Raikage grunted in approval.

“That snake’s been the reason they’ve held on this long. He won’t fight fair. He’ll retreat if he thinks he can’t win. That’s why I march myself. To keep him pinned.”

Killer B leaned against one of the tent poles, blades strapped across his back even at rest, a hum rolling from his throat.

He was younger, leaner, his face still smooth, but the strange rhythm of his presence was already there.

“Yo, Orochimaru’s slick, but not slicker than the Boss. Pin the snake, break his den, watch Konoha drown in loss.”

A scowled. “Don’t make this a song, B.”

B smirked, tilting his head, eyes bright.

“I spit it like I see it, bro. Tomorrow’s the big show.”

The Raikage gave a short chuckle, shaking his head.

His hair and beard had gone steel-grey, but his body was still a wall, chakra rolling like thunder even while he sat still.

“Let him talk, A. He’ll need that rhythm when steel meets steel.”

The tent fell quiet again for a moment, only the sound of the fire.

Then the Raikage’s eyes narrowed, golden under the flame.

“This is not another raid. This is the march. We take his den, kill him, seize his research, instruments, materials, his secrets, and tear Konoha’s command out from under them. When they scramble back in humiliation, Hot Water will be fully ours. And Fire will bleed next.”

A’s fists clenched, a grin spreading over his face. “Finally. Six months of grinding for this. No more skirmishes. No more shadows. Just a clean strike.”

B nodded, the hum deepening.

“A clean strike, yo, with the Raikage on point. No one in Konoha’s lines can match that joint.”

The Raikage’s gaze moved between them, slow, heavy. He studied his sons.

A, impatient, hungry to prove himself, to carry the weight of succession.

B, unpredictable, wild, but with Gyūki’s shadow already at his back.

Both had grown under his hand.

Both would see what true war meant tomorrow.

“Remember this,” he said finally. “Strength is more than speed, or thunder, or blades. Strength is standing at the front, so your men know they cannot break. That’s why I march. That’s why you march with me.”

Neither son spoke back.

A only gave a curt nod, fire in his eyes.

B lowered his head slightly, the grin fading for once into something steadier.

Outside, the night deepened.

Soon, they would march.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep