Hidden Leaf Hospital, the end of the second-floor corridor.
Tsunade sat behind her desk, pen in hand, with a stack of dical reports spread before her. She had read the sa line three tis, but not a single word had sunk in.
She set the pen down and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
It had been four days since they departed. A C-rank reconnaissance mission, estimated to take five to seven days. Based on the travel ti, the earliest they would return was today.
She flipped a page of a report, then flipped it back.
Suddenly, a series of footsteps echoed from the end of the hallway. They were hurried and chaotic, thumping against the floor as if soone were racing to grab the last bowl of ran.
Before Tsunade could even frown, the door was flung open.
*Bang!*
The door slamd into the wall and bounced.
Nawaki stood in the doorway, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling with excitent. He opened his mouth to speak—
*Thwack.*
A sharp flick landed squarely on his forehead.
Tsunade had appeared in front of him in an instant.
"This is a hospital," she reminded him.
Nawaki crouched down, clutching his forehead with a hiss of pain.
Tsunade reached out to close the door and leaned back against it, crossing her arms as she looked down at her younger brother.
He was back, alive and kicking. The tension that had held her heart tight for four days finally loosened.
"Get up and talk."
Nawaki sprang up, rubbing his forehead, his excitent completely irrepressible. "Sis! You won't believe it—"
"Keep it down."
Nawaki lowered his voice to a volu that was still roughly three tis louder than normal. "That wasn't a C-rank mission at all! The place was rigged with a chain of Explosive Tags! And there was a Sunagakure ambush! Eight of them!"
Tsunade's expression remained neutral, but the fingers crossing her chest tightened slightly.
"Eight Sand ninjas, led by two Jonin, had us surrounded!" Nawaki gesticulated wildly. "And then Sensei—Sis, you should have seen it! Sensei just stood there, and with one Chidori Sharp Spear, he skewered one of them instantly! The rest couldn't even maintain their formation. In five minutes, he'd cleaned them all out!"
He finished in one breath, panted for a mont, and then leaned in close.
"But! At the critical mont—" Nawaki patted his chest and lifted his chin proudly. "One of the Sand ninjas tried to sneak up on Sensei from behind. The kunai was practically at his neck when I blocked it with a shuriken!"
Tsunade looked at him. "Did you actually hit it?"
Nawaki's confidence dipped an inch. "...I was a little off."
"How off?"
"I just grazed the handle of the kunai, knocking it three inches off course."
"So you missed."
"But it worked! Sensei said so himself—'Off-target, but useful!' His exact words!"
The corner of Tsunade's mouth quirked up. "Fine. I'll count you as useful."
Nawaki bead with pride.
Tsunade turned back to her desk, sat down, and picked up her pen. "Alright, go ho and take a bath. You sll like dirt."
"Oh." Nawaki walked to the door, opened it, and then paused to look back. "Sis."
"Hmm?"
"Sensei was right. Those Explosive Tags... if I hadn't spotted them—" He paused. "If the team leader hadn't been Sensei—"
Tsunade's pen stopped on the paper, leaving a small blot of ink.
"I know," she said without looking up. "Go rest now."
Nawaki glanced at her, but decided not to say anything more. He closed the door and left.
Silence returned to the office.
Tsunade set down her pen, leaned back in her chair, and stared at the ceiling.
A chain of Explosive Tags, a Sunagakure ambush, eight enemies. A four-man squad with three Genin.
If the original Jonin had been leading the team...
She closed her eyes. The nightmare she had been having repeatedly these past few days surfaced again: the sound of explosions, legs that wouldn't move, and hands that couldn't reach.
It hadn't been a baseless fear.
Tsunade opened her eyes and looked down at the desk. The ink blot had already dried. She tore the page out, crumpled it into a ball, threw it in the trash, and pulled out a fresh sheet of white paper.
***
Nightfall.
Kitahara Kaede tossed his ninja tool bag by the entryway.
The mission report had taken over an hour. After listening, Hiruzen had remained silent for a long ti before eventually reclassifying the mission's rank.
Kaede was too exhausted to move, but he couldn't ignore the layers of dirt and sweat on his skin.
He pulled off his shirt and headed toward the bathroom. Just as his hand touched the door—
There was a knock.
Kitahara Kaede glanced toward the front door. This timing, this specific knock...
He looked down at himself. His shirt was off, but he still had his pants on—which was an improvent over the last ti. He couldn't be bothered to change; as long as he was presentable enough, it was fine.
He opened the door.
Tsunade stood outside. She was carrying two bags of groceries, her hair loose, wearing a clean, dark short-sleeved shirt.
Her gaze fell on him—his bare upper body, the line of his shoulders, his chest, and the contour of his abs rising and falling slightly with his breath.
This ti, she didn't cover her face. However, her gaze lingered significantly longer than it had before.
"Not wearing clothes again."
"I told you last ti, this is my house." Kitahara Kaede stepped aside to let her in.
Tsunade walked past him, kicked off her high-heeled sandals in the entryway, and walked barefoot across the floor straight into the kitchen.
"I'm making dinner."
"What's the occasion?"
"No occasion." Tsunade didn't look back as she started searching through the cutting boards. "Nawaki successfully completed his first mission. Can't we celebrate?"
Far away at ho, Nawaki sneezed. 'Who's thinking about ?'
Kitahara Kaede watched as she deftly tied on an apron. Entering the house, removing her shoes, heading to the kitchen—the entire sequence was fluid and practiced.
He turned and went to take a shower.
The sound of rushing water filled the air.
Tsunade lined up the vegetables on the cutting board and heated the oil in a pan. As the food hit the pan with a loud sizzle, plus of savory steam rose.
She tossed the ingredients, her ears pricked. Through the wall, the sound of the shower continued.
One cooking, one bathing.
The spatula paused for a mont. She stared at the swirling vegetables in the pan for two seconds, then turned the heat up a notch.
***
Half an hour later.
"Are you done yet? The food's getting cold!" Tsunade shouted toward the interior.
Kitahara Kaede erged from the room in clean clothes, his hair still slightly damp. On the table was a spread of four dishes and a soup, with two sets of chopsticks and bowls laid out.
"Such a feast?"
"I had so free ti."
Tsunade had already sat down. She popped the cork on a bottle of sake, filled two glasses, and pushed one toward him.
"Nawaki told ."
Kitahara Kaede picked up the glass. "What did he say?"
"That you took down eight Sand ninjas in five minutes. And that he saved your life at the critical mont."
"His shuriken missed."
"I know." Tsunade took a sip of sake. "But he ca back alive."
Silence fell for a few seconds. Tsunade lowered her head, her finger tracing the rim of her glass.
"That array of Explosive Tags... if you hadn't gone—"
"I did."
"I know." She looked up. "That's why I'm here."
Kitahara Kaede saw the tension that had been coiled in the depths of her eyes for days finally vanish in that mont.
"Eat up," he said, raising his glass. "It won't taste as good if it gets cold."
Tsunade rolled her eyes and popped a piece of food into her mouth.
As the sake flowed, the conversation slowly opened up. They talked mostly about Nawaki—how he had polished his forehead protector three tis before leaving, how he almost forgot to bring enough Military Ration Pills, and how he hadn't even noticed a scrape on his leg when he returned.
As she spoke, Tsunade began to laugh. After the laughter subsided, she took another gulp of sake, her eyes turning slightly red.
"Kaede."
"Yeah."
"Thank you."
Just as Kitahara Kaede was about to tell her it was unnecessary, Tsunade reached out and pressed her hand onto the back of his.
"This 'thank you'... I want you to accept it."
Kitahara Kaede paused.
Tsunade released her hand, lifted her glass, and downed the sake in one go.
By the ti the second pot of sake was empty, Tsunade's speech had begun to slur.
Her face was flushed a deep red. She rested her chin in her hand, tilting her head as she looked at him with hazy eyes.
"Kaede."
"Mm."
"Tell the truth."
"Go on."
"Is my cooking any good?"
Kitahara Kaede glanced at the plates on the table; most of the food had already been cleared.
"The plates don't lie," he replied.
Tsunade huffed, clearly unsatisfied. "I'm asking *you*."
"It's delicious."
The corners of Tsunade's mouth quirked upward for a mont before she suppressed the smile. "Really?"
"Really."
"Then..."
Tsunade swirled the liquid in her cup, the sake coating the inner walls. She seed to want to say sothing, but thought better of it and swallowed the words back.
Kitahara Kaede watched her and suddenly smiled.
"Then how about you make it for every day from now on?"
His tone was as casual as if he were comnting on tomorrow's weather.
Tsunade froze. The sake nearly spilled from her cup. She snapped her head up, a deep flush spreading from the tips of her ears down to her neck in an instant.
Kitahara Kaede held his own cup and took a slow sip. His expression was relaxed, as if he hadn't been the one to drop that bombshell.
Tsunade glared at him. He didn't flinch, eting her gaze with a flicker of amusent in his eyes.
Tsunade's lips parted. She wanted to say, 'In your dreams'; she wanted to say, 'You've had too much to drink'; she wanted to say, 'Who would ever do that for you?'
But her mouth moved faster than her mind.
"...Fine."
A single word, barely louder than a whisper.
Once it escaped, she froze. Silence hung in the air for two seconds.
Tsunade slamd her cup onto the table and stood up abruptly. "I'm drunk... just talking nonsense."
She leaned on the table, her body swaying.
Kitahara Kaede stood up and caught her by the arm. "You said it yourself."
"I didn't—"
"I heard you."
"Then sothing's wrong with your ears."
She was as stubborn as could be, yet her ears were beet red. Tsunade shook off his hand and took two steps, but her heel caught, and she began to tip sideways.
Kitahara Kaede reached out and caught her by the waist. Tsunade's face pressed into the crook of his shoulder, the heat radiating from her cheekbones to her ears.
She tried to push him away, but her hands rested against his chest without any strength. "Let go."
"If I let go, you'll hit the floor."
Tsunade fell silent. After a few seconds, she muttered softly, "...Bastard."
Kitahara Kaede didn't let go. "You said 'fine'."
Tsunade buried her face in his shoulder. She didn't argue this ti, but her shoulders were trembling. Kitahara Kaede could feel it; the hand resting on his chest tightened its grip slightly.
He didn't say another word. With one hand steadying her waist, he raised the other and gently patted the back of her head, as if soothing a child.
From the crook of his shoulder, Tsunade muffled a second "bastard," her voice even softer than the first.
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