The third-floor corridor, second room after turning left at the end.
There was no na on the door plaque.
Kitahara Kaede raised his hand and knocked twice.
"Co in."
His hand paused on the doorknob.
It was only two words, but he heard far more than that.
The voice was too familiar.
So familiar that before he even pushed the door open, an image had already ford in his mind: blonde twin-tails, stray hairs brushing against her forehead, and the habitual slight lift of her chin when she spoke.
'It couldn't be this coincidental...'
Kaede hesitated for a heartbeat before turning the knob.
The person sitting behind the desk was exactly as he had imagined.
The afternoon light stread in slanted from the side window, falling across the back of the hand she had resting on the desk.
That hand had bandaged his wounds; it had perford acupuncture on him.
When he had been unconscious and unresponsive, that hand had gripped him tightly, never letting go.
Kaede pushed those mories back down.
That was in the simulator.
She didn't know him.
He stepped inside.
Tsunade looked up.
The mont their eyes t, she noticed the young Chunin pause at the doorway.
"What, am I that scary?" Tsunade's tone was casual, carrying a hint of a smile. "I saw you freeze there for a second."
She paused.
"Or... do we know each other?"
The end of her sentence tilted upward, sounding like a casual question, yet it wasn't entirely that.
Kaede's expression remained neutral.
"We do."
Tsunade's eyebrow twitched. She didn't respond, simply watching him.
"You are one of the Legendary Sannin. Your photo is in the Ninja Academy textbooks," Kaede said, stepping forward with a steady voice. "I just didn't expect to et you in person while coming to pick up a report."
His tone was perfectly asured—neither too distant nor overly reverent.
There was nothing wrong with his words.
Yet, Tsunade stared at him for a few seconds longer.
When a ninja of his age encountered a Sannin for the first ti, they were usually either so nervous they couldn't speak properly, or their eyes were darting everywhere in agitation.
This boy showed none of those reactions.
After speaking, he simply stood there in silence, as if he had stood before her many tis before.
Tsunade suppressed that indescribable feeling and flipped open the report on her desk.
"Sit."
Kaede sat opposite her.
"The detoxification results for your teammate are out."
Tsunade turned the report and pushed it toward him.
"The poison in the right shoulder has been cleared, and the wound is healing fine." She glanced at him. "The initial treatnt was well-handled. That kind of poison is difficult to deal with under mission conditions."
She paused.
"Who did it?"
"I did."
Tsunade's movent as she leaned back stopped abruptly.
"You know dical ninjutsu?"
"A little."
Tsunade leaned back into her chair. The casual, conversational tone from before was gone. She looked at him again, her gaze now scrutinizing.
"How did you determine the type of toxin?"
"The edges of the wound had a grayish-black discoloration, the diffusion rate was slow, but it was continuously penetrating," Kaede replied, looking down at the report without raising his eyes. "Chronic erosion type."
"And after you determined the type?"
"I estimated the penetration rate by the depth and range of the discoloration, used a suppressant to hold back the spread, and then returned to the village for a full cleanse."
Tsunade didn't answer, her finger tapping silently on the desk.
First identify the type through discoloration, then determine the dication rhythm based on the diffusion rate.
This logical sequence was very similar to her own.
She had developed it herself through practical combat experience; it wasn't written in textbooks, nor had she ntioned it in any public forum.
Only soone who had spent a long ti by her side or had been taught by her would form this specific diagnostic path.
But she had no such person by her side.
"I didn't expect you to know this," she said, her voice sounding unchanged. "Who taught you?"
Kaede flipped to the next page of the report.
"Soone very important."
There was no further explanation.
He gave an answer, but only half of one. He didn't lie, but he didn't elaborate; he simply drew a line there.
It was exactly like the person in her dreams.
Tsunade stared at his profile for a few seconds. He remained focused on the report, his expression calm.
She withdrew her gaze.
Silence filled the office for a few seconds, punctuated only by the sound of flipping paper.
"Fine." Tsunade tilted her chin toward him. "I'll just sign for your girlfriend, and you can leave."
Kaede's hand stopped. He looked up at her.
"Not my girlfriend. A teammate in a temporary squad."
Tsunade paused. She had already known the answer to this. Nonou had made it very clear in her report: "Captain and teammate."
But hearing it directly from his mouth felt different.
She couldn't put her finger on why it was different.
It was just that the feeling blocking her chest suddenly dissipated.
Tsunade didn't dwell on why; she simply continued, "The last page."
Kaede flipped to the final page, picked up the pen from the desk, and leaned forward to sign.
Tsunade's gaze followed his movent. As he turned his hand to grip the pen, it was fully exposed under the light.
It was clean.
There was nothing there.
Tsunade's gaze lingered on that hand for two seconds longer.
The person in her dreams had an old scar on their hand. It had been left there while blocking a kunai for her.
She had touched that scar. That tactile sensation was clearer than any image in her dreams.
But the hands before her bore no such mark.
The voice was similar.
The logic for treating toxins was similar.
The way he spoke was similar.
Even the steady composure he possessed while sitting across from her was similar.
But there was a age difference of over a decade.
And the hand was wrong.
Similar, yet not.
Tsunade shifted her gaze away from his hand.
Kaede finished signing and pushed the report back. Tsunade took it and closed it.
"Go back and make sure Kurenai Yuhi changes her dication on ti. If there are any abnormalities, co back for a check-up."
"Understood."
Kaede stood up. "Thank you, Lady Tsunade."
He turned and walked toward the door. Tsunade watched his retreating back. Her lips moved, but she made no sound.
Kaede's hand rested on the doorfra.
"Excuse ."
The door closed behind him. The sound of his footsteps gradually faded down the corridor.
...
The office fell silent.
Tsunade sat at her desk, one hand resting on the closed report, motionless. Her gaze fell on a spot on the desk.
A photo fra lay face down there.
She reached out and flipped the fra over. The person in the photo was smiling.
Tsunade looked at it for a while, then placed the fra face down again.
Then, she reached into her collar and pulled out a blue fluorite necklace. The chain was warm from her body heat, resting against her collarbone.
She gripped it for a few seconds, then let go.
Having t him made her more certain than before, yet there was still no evidence.
Tsunade leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. The last image to surface in her mind was the half-profile of his face as he turned to say "Excuse " at the door.
...
In the stairwell, Kitahara Kaede was walking downstairs.
He replayed the conversation in his head from the beginning.
If you took every sentence individually, they were all normal. He had paused at the door, and she had teased him casually. He had perford the treatnt, and as a dical authority, she had asked a few curious questions.
It all made sense.
But when put together, the flavor changed.
The signature could have been handled at the first-floor reception, yet he had gone to the third floor and encountered Tsunade.
'Sign for your girlfriend...'
Kaede stepped down to the next stair. A thought erged from the gaps.
'She couldn't possibly have mories, could she...?'
The thought lasted only a second.
The twenty years in the simulator belonged to him alone. There was no reason for Tsunade to know those things, and it was even more impossible for her to spontaneously develop twenty years of mories.
He had likely used her thods for analyzing toxins, which sparked her professional curiosity and led to a longer conversation.
As for the ntion of a "girlfriend"—it was probably just a casual remark.
He was likely overthinking things.
Kitahara Kaede made his way down to the first floor.
Kurenai Yuhi was already waiting for him by the front desk.
"Let's go."
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