The bitter wind whipped at Tsunade's hair, a constant companion in their desperate flight.
The Second Great Shinobi War had ended, but for her, the battles continued.
Not against other villages, but against the crushing weight of expectation and the insidious greed.
As one of the legendary Sannin, her medical prowess was unmatched, a talent now coveted by every major ninja village, including her own.
They heard that she could even bring back the dead. In this case her little brother Nawaki.
They sought to exploit her skills, to bend her knowledge to their will, not for healing, but for power.
Tsunade had refused.
She wouldn't be a tool, a living weapon in their endless conflicts.
Her defiance had made her a target.
Threats turned into veiled attacks, and soon, open attempts to abduct her.
The pressure was suffocating, the constant vigilance a drain on her very soul.
She couldn't allow her presence to bring ruin to the Hidden Leaf Village.
Under the cloak of a moonless night, Tsunade made her agonizing decision.
She vanished, taking with her the two people she couldn't bear to leave behind.
Her spirited younger brother, Nawaki, and her fiercely loyal apprentice, Shizune.
Their escape was a blur of hurried footsteps, whispered instructions, and the ever-present fear of pursuit.
They moved like shadows, seeking refuge in the forgotten corners of the land.
It was in a decaying, overgrown shrine, deep within a silent forest, that they stumbled upon another fugitive.
Anko Mitarashi, a young kunoichi from the Leaf, was a ghost of her former self, haunted and desperate.
Orochimaru, her twisted former master, had begun to hunt her down with chilling intensity, seeking to reclaim his "experiments" and further his grotesque quest for immortality.
The mere mention of his name sent shivers down Tsunade's spine.
Anko, upon seeing Tsunade, flinched, years of Orochimaru's psychological torment leaving her wary of all.
But Tsunade, recognizing the raw terror in the girl's eyes, offered not judgment, but a quiet understanding.
They were both outcasts, hunted by their pasts and the machinations of powerful, ruthless individuals.
In that shared vulnerability, a silent agreement was forged.
Now, a weary quartet, they drifted through the desolate landscape.
Tsunade, despite her own exhaustion, was their anchor, her formidable medical ninjutsu a constant shield against illness and injury.
Nawaki, though still young, had shed his youthful exuberance for a fierce determination, fighting with a surprising ferocity to protect his sister.
Shizune, ever the steadfast support, managed their dwindling supplies and provided quiet comfort.
And Anko, though scarred, found a flicker of purpose in their shared plight, her intimate knowledge of Orochimaru's methods proving invaluable in evading his ever-present gaze.
They were a fragile unit, bound by the desperate need for survival, constantly on the move, always looking over their shoulders.
Home felt like a distant dream, a luxury they couldn't afford.
The constant gnawing fear of pursuit, the endless flight, and the dwindling hope had begun to take their toll.
Even Tsunade, with all her legendary resilience, felt the edges of despair creeping in.
It was during one of their brief, clandestine stops, huddled in the damp interior of a forgotten cave, that a strange, ethereal hum vibrated through the air.
A peculiar, almost otherworldly symbol shimmered into existence before her eyes—not a genjutsu, not a trick of light, but something utterly alien.
It was a chat system.
"Chat? That's right, I am not at the end yet. Hopefully, Sol resolved the problem with those twin bastard gods…"
Tsunade reached out, her fingers hovering over the shimmering text that proclaimed itself the "Dimensional Chat."
With a deep breath, she initiated contact, pouring her heart into a message detailing their plight, her refusal to be a weapon, and the relentless hunt they endured.
Across the boundless expanse of the multiverse, a being of immense power stirred.
Sullivan, the Guild Master, an elder god whose very essence transcended mortal comprehension, read the chat.
He was unfathomably powerful, and effortlessly capable of traversing the vast tapestry of creation.
"Someone is messing with my guild member."
Tsunade's message, imbued with such raw anguish and defiance, resonated with him.
Without a moment's hesitation, he tore through the fabric of space and time, his presence manifesting in a flash of blinding light and a ripple of cosmic energy within the cramped confines of the cave.
The air crackled, the very stones of the cave vibrating with a power that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
Nawaki, Shizune, and Anko instinctively recoiled, their hands flying to their weapons, their faces a mixture of fear and confusion.
Before them stood a young man.
He was no shinobi, no jinchuriki, but something far, far beyond their understanding. Sullivan had arrived.
The young man, radiating an almost impossible calm, surveyed the wary shinobi with eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of ages—though they also held a mischievous twinkle that was distinctly out of place for an "elder god."
He wore simple clothes leaning casually against the damp cave wall a bit too close to Tsunade for comfort.
"Tsunade,"
Sullivan's voice resonated, not with sound, but as if directly within their minds, a gentle echo that bypassed their ears entirely.
He then dramatically fanned himself with one hand, a breeze ruffling Tsunade's bangs.
"Oh, my! It's really dusty here. You guys have been living in a cave? Classic."
He blinked.
"You are too much, Ghosting us for a long time and just messaged us now."
Tsunade smiled and said tiredly.
"Sorry, I have been so busy with my life right now. Can you help me a little bit here?"
Sullivan chuckled, the sound echoing not in the cave but directly in Tsunade's mind, a soft, comforting resonance.
"Help? Tsunade, that's what I'm here for. Though, you do have a knack for getting into rather… dramatic situations."
Said the one who caused the most trouble.
He gestured around the dimly lit cave with a sweep of his hand, a faint golden light momentarily illuminating the damp walls and the bewildered faces of Nawaki, Shizune, and Anko.
"So," he continued, a mischievous glint in his eye, "the legendary Slug Princess is being hunted by her own people and some rather unsavory characters, all because she refuses to be a living war machine. And you've picked up a few strays along the way, I see."
His gaze lingered on Anko, a knowing smirk playing on his lips before he turned back to Tsunade.
"Tell you what,"
Sullivan said, pushing himself off the wall and taking a casual step closer, the air around him shimmering slightly.
"Let's get you out of this dust trap first. And then, we can discuss the finer points of 'not being a tool' and how to deal with bothersome ex-masters." H
e extended a hand, not to Tsunade, but to the air before them, and a portal, swirling with iridescent colors, began to unfurl, revealing a glimpse of a serene, sun-drenched landscape beyond.
"Consider this an overdue intervention, Tsunade. You're part of the Guild, and we don't abandon our own, especially when they're in a bind like this. Now, are you ready to trade this charming cave for something a little more… hospitable?"
He raised an eyebrow, a silent question in his gaze, a hint of his vast power barely contained beneath his casual demeanor.
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