Hidden Leaf Hospital.
Three in the afternoon.
Tsunade finished her final surgery of the day and pushed open the door to her office. She walked to her desk, sat down, and absentmindedly flipped open the dical record of a critically injured patient.
The wall clock ticked with a monotonous rhythm.
She turned a page, but not a single word registered. Those eyes surfaced in her mind again, along with that na.
"Hagoromo Kaede..."
Tsunade slamd the record face-down on the desk and rubbed her brow.
*Knock, knock, knock.*
"Co in."
An ANBU mber wearing a cat mask entered the room, carrying a thick stack of files.
"Lady Tsunade, the Hokage ordered to urgently compile these. They are all the personnel files of the Hagoromo Clan since the founding of the Hidden Leaf."
Tsunade's gaze sharpened. She stepped forward quickly, took the files from the ANBU, and spread them across the desk. Her eyes scanned the dense lists of nas with lightning speed.
Hagoromo Tadashi.
Hagoromo Taku.
Hagoromo Kenta.
She flipped through them one by one, faster and faster.
She reached the end. Nothing.
Refusing to believe it, Tsunade started over, reading every single word and sentence.
Still nothing.
As she closed the final folder, Tsunade leaned back slowly into her chair and stared at the ceiling for a long ti. Her chest felt tight—a stifling sensation she couldn't quite na.
Twenty years of deep-seated mories. From childhood playmates to lovers.
Could it... really have just been so absurd dream?
"...Thank you for your hard work," Tsunade said, her voice devoid of emotion. "The person I'm looking for isn't here. Take them back."
The ANBU gathered the files, but as she reached the door, she paused. She looked back, appearing to hesitate over whether to speak up.
"Lady Tsunade, while reviewing the active registries from recent years, I noticed sothing."
"Among the active shinobi in the village, there is one na that contains the character 'Kaede'."
Tsunade picked up the tea that had gone cold on her desk, her tone indifferent. "If the surna isn't Hagoromo, it's aningless."
"His na is Kitahara Kaede. A civilian orphan, currently a Genin."
The tea cup stopped just before Tsunade's lips. She remained silent for a mont.
"Since you've made the search, seeing it through won't hurt." Tsunade set the cup down and tilted her chin toward the ANBU. "Bring it here."
The ANBU pulled a thin, single-page file from a compartnt in her gear pouch and handed it over with both hands.
Tsunade took it and scanned it casually. Her gaze landed on the small identification photo in the top right corner. Her fingers tightened.
The boy in the photo was lean with a bland expression—nothing particularly special.
But those eyes...
Tsunade held the file in mid-air, frozen. They were very calm eyes. Within that calmness was sothing she couldn't quite describe.
The feeling was too familiar. It was so familiar that the stifling pressure that had plagued her chest all day began to surge upward again.
Yet, she couldn't be sure. Did he truly look like him, or was the dream in her head so vivid that she was projecting that face onto everyone she saw?
Tsunade gritted her teeth, forcing herself to look away from the photo and read further down.
Na: Kitahara Kaede
Age: 15
Origin: Civilian Orphan
Ninja Rank: Genin (Graduated from the Ninja Academy at age 12)
Ability Rating: Below-average chakra reserves, lacks aptitude for ninjutsu, has only mastered the basic Three Basic Jutsu.
Instructor's Evaluation: No standout qualities, low combat power; recomnded for a transfer to logistics.
Tsunade's brow furrowed deeper. Her eyes flickered back and forth between "no standout qualities" and "recomnded for logistics."
The person in her dreams had single-handedly slaughtered thirteen elites, created original ninjutsu, and wielded high-level techniques with ease.
And this person in reality? A civilian orphan, a dead-last Genin, recomnded for logistics.
Tsunade flipped the file over to check the back. Blank. She flipped it back to the front and read it again.
The discrepancy was so absurd that her expression beca subtle—as if soone had played a massive joke on her, and she hadn't yet decided whether to laugh.
After a few seconds of silence, Tsunade slapped the file onto the desk.
"Thanks." She nodded to the ANBU. "Leave this with for now."
The ANBU bowed and exited.
Silence returned to the office. Tsunade walked to the window and looked down at the file on the desk once more. Those quiet eyes in the photo were staring right back at her.
Was it the sa person?
She couldn't judge based on a single photo. The emotions accumulated over twenty years in her dreams couldn't be verified by a small ID picture.
She had to see this person with her own eyes. She needed to hear how he spoke, see how he walked, and look into his eyes...
Only face-to-face could she determine if she was simply losing her mind.
Tsunade turned back to the desk and glanced at her schedule. Tomorrow morning at nine, she had no surgeries.
"Kitahara Kaede."
She slid the file into a drawer and tapped her fingers on the desk twice.
"I'm coming to find you."
***
The sa day, early morning.
As the first light of dawn touched the horizon, Kitahara Kaede was already running through the empty streets. He wore a grey tracksuit with sandbags strapped to his calves.
He was only fifteen; there was still potential to be realized. Regardless of the rewards given by the system, he couldn't afford to neglect his daily training.
During his fifth lap, a green blur streaked past his shoulder, whipping up a gust of wind.
"Eight hundred seventeen! Eight hundred eighteen!"
A youth in a green spandex suit was running at incredible speed, supporting himself with his hands in a handstand. He had a bowl cut, thick eyebrows, and an unbelievable amount of energy.
The youth glanced at Kitahara Kaede upside down before zooming away again.
Kaede gave him a brief look, then returned his focus to maintaining a steady pace.
Might Guy.
The son of Might Dai, the man who would one day be known as the "Blue Beast."
But that was all in the future. Besides, he had no real connection with Guy; they could just run their own races.
Lap fifteen.
*Whoosh!* The green blur swept past again.
"Nine hundred fifty-two! Nine hundred fifty-three!"
Lap thirty.
"One thousand one hundred six!"
Lap forty.
Kitahara Kaede slowed his pace and ca to a stop. He pulled off a towel to wipe his sweat, his breathing slightly heavy. Running over forty laps with sandbags was indeed a significant drain on his stamina.
*Screech!*
The green blur ca to a sudden halt in front of him. Might Guy snapped his waist and bounced up, landing steadily on his feet. He gave Kitahara Kaede a big thumbs-up, flashing a row of bright white teeth.
"A kindred spirit! The sweat of forty laps is the burning of youth!"
Kaede panted, surprised that Guy would actually greet him, but he simply gave a polite nod. "You're impressive. I'm heading out now."
Guy's wide eyes popped. "Giving up after only forty laps?! Youth should have no limits!"
"I really can't go on," Kaede said, waving a hand. "My physical fitness can't compare to yours. You keep going."
Might Guy fell silent for a second. Then, he shouted toward the heavens.
"Then I shall burn the remaining sixty laps on your behalf!"
Before the words had even finished, he had already bolted off in a handstand.
"One thousand one hundred seven! One thousand one hundred eight!"
Kitahara Kaede watched the green silhouette disappear around the street corner.
Might Guy—he didn't want to provoke him right now. Once Guy decided you were a training partner, he would camp outside your door every morning to challenge you to a spar. If you didn't fight, he wouldn't leave you alone; if you fought too hard, you'd expose your trump cards.
Kakashi had been haunted by him for years and still hadn't escaped. Kaede had no desire to follow in those footsteps.
He turned around and headed ho to shower.
In the afternoon, he headed toward the ninja tool shop on the south street of the Hidden Leaf.
Preparation
Kitahara Kaede slapped his remaining savings onto the counter.
"Ten kunai, twenty shuriken, and five military pills."
The shopkeeper bagged the items and handed them over.
Carrying the tool bag, Kitahara Kaede stepped out of the shop. The sun was already dipping toward the west.
The system's five-million Ryo threshold still lood over him. He needed to make money—and fast.
Once back at his residence, he distributed the kunai and shuriken between his leg and waist pouches. Everything was set.
Outside his window, the sky had turned completely dark. He set his alarm for 5:00 AM.
As soon as the sun rose, he would head straight for the South Gate to report back to the front lines.
Kitahara Kaede turned off the lights and lay down in bed.
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