It had been a few months since our team arrived at the River Country base. The front lines ebbed and flowed like a tide of fire and steel, but so far, the battles had not reached us directly. I knew better than to think it would last, but in the meantime, we found our rhythm.
Kurenai had blossomed in the medical tents, surprising even some of the more senior medics. She copied my notes obsessively and refined her chakra control through constant practice, and her genjutsu had taken a surprising twist as she developed a few techniques to work alongside treatments. I would catch her layering illusions over splints and bandages to keep wounded soldiers calm during the intake and even surgeries. That was the kind of brilliance that could not be taught, only cultivated through real-life experience.
Asuma and Guy had adapted to their morgue duties with a grim sort of determination. The horror of it had weighed on them at first, especially after seeing dead Leaf shinobi, some only a few years older than themselves. But over time, their laughter returned. Not out of callousness but resolve; they understood what we were fighting to prevent.
Duy had become a one-man fitness cult. Every morning before the sun rose, I would hear him leading exercises in the dirt courtyard with all of the genin in the camp as their team leaders pawned them off onto Duy. If I had a ryo for every time someone complained about their sore legs, I could fund an entire warfront myself. Still, his presence gave people strength and hope. The Will of Fire burned bright in him and people noticed; my father would be so proud.
As for me… I kept up appearances. During the day, I directed the medical unit, signed off on reports, coordinated treatment schedules, and watched for the day the Sand's poison masters finally decided to test us. But every night, beneath the seal-hidden cavern I had carved into the cliffside, I trained in silence.
I summoned my elemental clones, Fire, Earth, Water, Lightning, Wind, Lava, and Space-Time, and put them to work. While they grinded away, I focused on my Lava Release, practicing my custom justus. so that I would be ready when it was needed. None were as elegant as a true clan technique, I was sure, but they were mine.
And I was getting stronger, but tonight, I let myself rest.
Kurenai sat on her bedroll with a worn notebook open across her knees, scribbling down more chakra flow diagrams. Guy sat beside her doing one-armed pushups with a sack of rocks on his back. Asuma leaned back against a crate of supplies, arms folded, already half-asleep. I was at the small field desk, going over the latest inventory report. The tent was warm, lit with a small lamp that flickered faintly.
Kurenai yawned, then glanced up from her notes. "Do you think the med tent needs another set of clean tools? Yuri said we're running low again."
I nodded. "I'll requisition some with the next resuppy. We're not in critical shortage yet."
She smiled and returned to her writing. That peace shattered in an instant, however. The flap of the tent shifted, only a crack open, no sound of footsteps, just a ripple of shadow. A figure stepped through in a dark cloak, their chakra masked completely.
Before I could speak, Guy moved. With a youthful roar, he launched across the tent with a flying kick so fast his bedroll was thrown behind him.
"ASSASSIN!?!"
The figure moved a single hand. Guy's kick stopped midair, his body frozen by a pressure he could not understand. But, like most of Guy's attacks, the wind generated by the attack still flew forward and then knocked the hood back.
Long blonde hair spilled over a shoulder. A blue diamond marking on the center of her forehead. Her sharp amber eyes narrowed in irritation.
"You still let him sleep inside the tent?" Tsunade asked flatly, holding Guy by the ankle as if he weighed nothing.
Kurenai burst into laughter, hand over her mouth. "That was amazing…"
"Sensei," I greeted, standing up and brushing my pants off. "You could've knocked."
She snorted. "Not with Danzo slithering around the camp like a roach in the rafters. I didn't want to be intercepted... or annoyed."
I glanced toward the tent flap. "How did you even get past the Hyūga patrols?"
"I'm not a Sannin for nothing," she replied smoothly, dropping Guy who used his hands to spring back to his feet with a small flip. "Besides, I'm not here to cause trouble. Officially, I'm delivering something; I even have a mission scroll."
Asuma rubbed his eyes, having been awoken by the commotion. "Wait… is that really Lady Tsunade?"
"Yup," I said, already clearing the desk for what I knew was coming next.
Tsunade reached into her cloak and unrolled a scroll. It was familiar and ancient, inked in red and black, the Slug Summoning Contract. Opening it up, there were only two names written on it, Hashirama Senju and Tsunade Senju.
She had offered it to me once before, but due to my weak affinity with Space-Time at the time, I had refused since I would need to carry the scroll personally until I improved it; now, though, I did not have such restrictions. Tsunade was the one person who knew the most about my system, though I never told her about it directly, using the excuse of a unique physique.
"You've been dodging this for over three years," she muttered, though her tone lacked bite. "Time to make it official."
"I wasn't dodging," I said. "Just… prioritizing."
Tsunade rolled her eyes and retorted, "Sure."
As I pricked my thumb and pressed the blood to the scroll, I felt a tug of something old and binding in the air. I signed my name in the next open slot beneath Tsunade's and Hashirama's. Chakra flared gently before the scroll vanished in a pulse of smoke.
I formed the proper hand signs then placed my hand on the table. The air shimmered, and with a soft pop, a small silver-and-blue slug appeared on the table.
"Good evening, Akari-sama," Katsuyu said brightly, her antennae swaying. "You finally signed my contract."
I smiled. "Hello again, Katsuyu. I missed you, too."
She wobbled forward slightly. "I've been bothering Tsunade-sama for months about this. I told her you were ready."
"You've been bothering me for a lot longer than that," Tsunade said with a smirk, hands on her hips. "You happy now?"
Katsuyu tilted in what looked like satisfaction. "I am."
"Persistent," I muttered.
"Efficient," Katsuyu corrected sweetly.
Tsunade's mood shifted with a sigh, then her shoulders squared, and her eyes narrowed with a familiar sharpness. "Katsuyu, you know what to do."
"Of course," she said, disappearing in a poof of smoke.
Chakra bloomed beneath us. The air warped. I realized what was happening, so I turned to my team.
"Stay here. Say nothing. I'll be back before dawn."
Asuma leaned forward. "Wait, what...?"
Guy's eyes were wide. "Is this a mission?"
"No questions," I said firmly. "Just stay put."
Kurenai looked worried, but she nodded. Then the world vanished in a spiral of smoke and chakra.
We appeared in the middle of a clearing, the world reshaping around us with the soft scent of moss and dew. Shikkotsu Woods stretched endlessly in every direction, a mythical place few had ever seen. The trees were massive with trunks wider than buildings, their tops vanishing into a misty canopy so thick that the moonlight barely filtered through in pale slivers. Everything here glowed faintly with life, the air thick with nature chakra and buzzing with soft, distant humming as if the world was breathing.
Pools of luminous water sparkled between roots as wide as roads. Mushrooms the size of boulders pulsed with faint blue light. The entire forest seemed to exist halfway between the real world and something older, deeper, more sacred. The massive body of Katsuyu towered over even the trees while smaller clones, portions of her body, moved around the forest floors and trees.
I took a long breath. The chakra here was… different. Ancient... and I could feel something within me stir.
Tsunade cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders as she took in the view. "Been a while," she muttered. "So," Tsunade said, turning to me with arms crossed. "Now that we've got a moment away from Danzo's stink, let's talk."
I nodded. "Alright. Hit me."
She arched a brow. "Don't tempt me."
I smirked and chuckled.
Tsunade pulled out a notebook with notations, chakra diagrams, and jutsu formulas, most likely written by her own hand. "First off: I heard about the med corps. You're doing fine, even better than I expected, but you need to be careful. You're stretched thin already. You're their backbone now, Akari. If you crack, they all will too."
I took the journal from her and scanned it quickly. "I've been working through the chakra fatigue issue with a rotation schedule, but the problem's going to get worse if the Sand pushes."
"Then you make backup plans," she said firmly. "Double your stockpile of basic antidotes and soldier pills. Your poison specialist, Saito Emi, she's competent, right?"
I nodded. "She's been invaluable."
"Then lean on her more; she should be able to create both. You're not a solo act anymore."
I jotted mental notes. "Done. What else?"
"Clones."
I blinked. "Clones?"
She gave me a look. "Don't play dumb. You've got that look in your eyes. The 'I haven't slept properly in weeks because my clones are working overtime' look."
I tried to smirk, keep it casual. "You said to multitask. I'm multitasking."
"Akari," Tsunade said flatly, "you're overdoing it."
I did not answer.
"You've always had a talent for splitting focus, and I know your chakra reserves are insane for your age, but too many clones, too often, for too long can and will do damage that you won't feel until it's too late."
My shoulders tensed. "Damage like what?"
"Fragmented memory. Split personalities. Chakra imbalances. I've seen it before... never with your exact technique, but it's close enough."
Still, I kept my tone light. "You worry too much."
Tsunade narrowed her eyes. "And you brush things off too easily."
I met her gaze but did not answer.
She sighed. "Just… be careful, alright?"
I nodded once. But inside? Inside, I wanted to laugh.
Split personalities?
It was too late for that warning. I had already divided myself into so many parts with Fire, Wind, Earth, Water, Lightning, Yin, Space-Time… Each one a different focus, a different layer of me. The truth was, at this point, I used my clones to stay sane, not the other way around.
Silence lingered for a few seconds as she tried to bore a hole into my soul with her gaze alone. Then Katsuyu shifted slightly.
"If you're willing," she said gently, "I would like to begin instructing you in Sage Mode."
My breath caught, not expecting the slug to make such an offer so soon.
Tsunade rolled her eyes. "Don't even start."
Katsuyu wobbled in protest. "She has the potential. You know she does."
"And I don't?" Tsunade shot back. "I've trained here for years, and I don't have the right chakra for it. What makes you think she does?"
Katsuyu did not answer right away. Instead, she turned her wide eyes on me. "Your chakra is different. Aligned. You don't draw from nature unconsciously. You match it. That's rare."
Tsunade groaned. "Don't fill her head with dreams when she's already drowning in work."
"I'm just planting seeds," Katsuyu said.
I held up a hand. "One step at a time, you two. War first, ancient super chakra training later."
They both quieted, grudgingly.
Tsunade rose to her feet again. "She's not wrong, though. Once this war ends, you should come back here. Even I'd be curious to see what you could do."
I nodded, though a heavy weight pressed against my ribs at the thought. I wanted that power, of course, but it would be a long time before I had time for it.
"I'll consider it."
"Good."
With that, she turned to Katsuyu. "Time to send us back. I have a camp to sneak out of, and you have a team probably panicking in your tent."
Katsuyu's small form bobbed once, and chakra swirled beneath our feet again.
"They're not panicking," I muttered.
With a gentle pop of chakra and smoke, the world snapped back into focus. The inside of our tent returned around me, bedrolls neatly laid out, dim lantern-light flickering across canvas, and four nervous faces staring at us.
Guy was half-crouched, mid-turn. Duy had already positioned himself between the others and where Tsunade now stood. Asuma blinked holding a kunai, and Kurenai had her chakra already spiking with her hands prepped... until she spotted me and dropped her hands, relief clear in her eyes.
"We're back," I said casually, like we had not disappeared in a flash of chakra to another corner of the continent without a real warning.
Tsunade said with a smirk, "Good instincts. Glad to see they're not getting soft while under your care."
Asuma let out a breath. "Seriously, what just happened?"
"Nothing you need to worry about," I said, already nudging Tsunade toward the flap of the tent. "Everything's fine. Go to sleep."
"Akari," Kurenai started, her brows pinched together with concern.
"Don't worry, I'll share my notes later," I cut in gently. "For now, I'm just walking my sensei out of camp."
Tsunade grinned and gave me a 'light' nudge that would easily knock over someone who was not expecting it, so not me. "Don't get all sentimental on me."
"I'm just being polite," I shot back, before glancing at the others. "You've all got early duties. Rest."
Duy nodded without hesitation. Guy dropped his stance with a grin, climbing back under his blanket. Asuma muttered something about weird hours and sat down with a thud. Kurenai lingered, eyes still following me as I turned.
I paused and gave her a nod, reassuring, calm, practiced. "Sleep well, Kurenai."
Her eyes softened. "You too."
Tsunade waited just outside the tent, arms crossed. "They're good. You did well."
"I tried," I replied as I stepped out beside her, closing the flap behind me. "Now let's get you out of here before Danzo or anyone else notices."
"Lead the way," she said, voice light but her gaze sharp in the moonlight.
We walked into the night, our quiet footsteps muffled against the dirt and the distant sounds of the sleeping camp behind us. The night air was cool, laced with dew and silence. The glow from the scattered lanterns barely reached the shadows that clung to the trees, but Tsunade walked beside me like she belonged in every space she occupied. She was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, and then, of course, came the smirk.
"So," she said lightly, "your little genin's got a soft spot for you."
I didn't flinch, but I didn't rise to the goad either. "She respects me, and we've known each other a long time."
Tsunade hummed in mock agreement. "That's not what I saw in her eyes. And I didn't need Katsuyu's foresight to pick up on that tension."
I kept walking. "You're imagining things."
"Oh please," she said with a lazy roll of her eyes. "I invented that excuse. I saw how she looked at you. And you? You got this tight little smile when she spoke, like you were trying not to say something stupid. I know you, brat. Better than you think. And I've been in your boots."
I gave a quiet exhale. "It's not like that."
"No?" she asked, tone softening. "Then what's it like?"
I was quiet for a beat too long. "It's complicated," I admitted with a sigh. "I'm her superior, she's young, and we're at war."
Tsunade nodded once, slowly. Her smirk faded, replaced by something far older, heavier.
"That's exactly why I'm bringing it up," she said, voice lowered. "You already know about Dan. You've heard the stories, the whispers... probably even some of the jokes. But you don't know what it did to me."
I glanced sideways at her but could not hold the look. Her face was carved in pale lines beneath the moonlight; the years weighing on her that had nothing to do with age. She looked tired in a way I had rarely seen.
"We were both jonin. Strong. Proud. We fought side by side and made plans for after the war. That was our mistake... my mistake," she said. "Believing there'd be an after for us."
Her steps slowed, and I matched her pace.
"I thought I'd keep going... that I was shinobi, forged in loss, too strong to fall apart over one death. But I did. I shattered. If some cocky, little brat had not entered my life, boasting that she wanted to go to war, I would have abandoned everything... my duty, the village, my grandfather's legacy."
Her hands were at her sides, not clenched, not shaking... just open, like she had let it all fall long ago.
"You've got so much riding on your shoulders already, Akari," she continued. "I'm not telling you not to care. I'm telling you not to anchor yourself to something you might not survive losing. You don't get to break, not the way I nearly did if it hadn't been for you."
I looked down at the ground, unsure of how to hold all the weight she had handed me.
"I'm not in love with her," I said quietly. "But… she means something to me. And sometimes, I catch myself wondering if we'd be more… if she weren't on my team. If this wasn't wartime."
"That's a lot of ifs," Tsunade replied, gently. "And none of them change reality."
"No," I agreed, voice low. "They don't."
"Then be smart about it," she said, her voice firm again. "Protect your team. Protect your heart. Don't let a soft spot become a weak one, but don't let the war steal every damn good thing before you've even begun to live your life."
I gave a tired chuckle. "Yeah… I get it, but that doesn't make it any easier."
"No," she said, a breath of wry laughter escaping her. "It doesn't. Nothing worth holding onto ever is."
We walked in silence for a few more moments, the edge of camp in sight, the trees thinning. I had not expected this talk, but I was not sorry we had it. It was nice getting to talk to someone like her.
"Thanks," I murmured. Not just for the advice, but for still being here, despite all she had lost.
She did not answer right away. Just bumped her shoulder lightly into mine. "Don't make me come back and smack sense into you, brat."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Liar."
We shared a smile before she pulled up her hood and slipped out into the darkness of the night. I watched her walk away until I could not see her anymore then turned back to the camp. The conversation weighed on my mind, but when I returned to my tent and saw Kurenai still waiting for me while the others slept, a soft smile graced my face.
"I told you to go to sleep," I chided lightly.
"I just wanted to make sure that you made it back," she defended weakly.
I chuckled as I climbed into my bedroll and retorted, "Well, I did, so let's get some sleep. The morning is going to come far earlier than any of us would like."