Chapter 69 – Love in the Age of War
In times of war, the unions of shinobi were often hasty, even casual.
It wasn't a matter of frivolity—it was survival. No one knew when death might strike, so they sought partners before battle, leaving behind children to ensure their bloodlines endured.
But for Tsunade-hime, things had always been different.
While Hashirama lived, she was forbidden from young romance. When Tobirama led the village, her days were consumed with training, leaving no room for girlish thoughts.
Later, after being placed in a team with Jiraiya and Orochimaru, missions and the advancement of medical ninjutsu filled every waking moment. Jiraiya's pursuit touched her, yes—but never stirred the kind of impulse she might have acted upon.
Eventually, she had found one man who truly drew her heart: Kato Dan. They had only ever held hands once… before he died on the battlefield.
Sometimes Tsunade wondered if she was cursed, destined to bring death to the men who loved her.
As for Ren—her handsome young disciple—yes, he had once walked in on her while she was changing. Yes, his looks matched her taste in men perfectly. But he was her student. She refused to even entertain such thoughts.
---
"Good work, Tsunade. The frontlines are stabilizing. Take some rest," said Hiruzen Sarutobi kindly, pulling her wandering thoughts back.
"I'm off, Tsunade!" Jiraiya waved hurriedly, already half out the door. After months of pent-up frustration at the front, it wasn't hard to guess he was rushing to the red-light district to… "collect research."
Orochimaru, after handing in his report, gave only the barest nod before slipping away into the shadows.
Tsunade snorted. "Hmph. Men."
But then she shifted uneasily, thighs pressing together, body betraying what her mouth denied.
She was a woman in her twenties, healthy, strong, and alone. No matter how tough her words, her body had its own desires. After months on the battlefield, it wasn't just men who suffered from suppression.
Better to hurry home. There, at least, she could release some of the tension.
Ignoring the greetings of fellow shinobi on the way, Tsunade rushed back to the Senju compound, her boots splashing in the early spring meltwater as she flung open the door.
And froze.
Her face flushed crimson.
In the center of the room, Ren stood shirtless, lifting a barbell. His muscles were sleek and sculpted, sweat gleaming like polished jade in the dim light.
His waist… powerful. His hips… firm. The outline in his shorts—
Damn it all. Was this some divine punishment? After months of restraint, was she really being tested with this?
"Ahem."
Tsunade leaned against the doorway, face red, pretending not to look while looking anyway.
"Put on some clothes. When you're done, call me."
Bang! She slammed the door shut.
Ren, utterly unfazed, set down the barbell and ducked into the bath. "Tsunade-sensei, I'll wash up first. Dinner's already made—eat before it gets cold!"
Hearing the water run, Tsunade pushed the door back open. Thankfully, he hadn't tried anything outrageous. Still… he had clearly known she was returning today. Why else prepare such a feast?
On the tatami, a clay stove warmed a pot of sake, and the table was covered with steaming hotpot, rich with lamb and beef slices. The bright colors alone made her stomach growl.
After days of subsisting on soldier pills, Tsunade's hunger overpowered her irritation. For the sake of such devotion from her student, she would let his earlier… display… slide.
Seven or eight minutes later, Ren emerged from the bath, hair damp, steam still rising from his body. He wore a black long-sleeved shirt now, though still only shorts. Without hesitation, he sat cross-legged across from Tsunade, simply watching her eat.
She felt the weight of his gaze almost immediately.
"You brat. Where do you think you're looking?" she snapped, pulling her collar tighter across her chest.
Ren didn't even try to look embarrassed. What man, faced with Tsunade, could help but stare? The target was simply… too obvious.
"So, Sensei, was the mission successful?" he asked, smoothly changing the subject.
Tsunade dipped a slice of lamb into the broth, swirling it as she spoke.
"More or less. Sunagakure only has so many tricks—puppets, poisons, nothing particularly surprising."
"Were there many injuries?"
"…Plenty. But I spent half a month preparing antidotes. Once the poison was countered, the rest was manageable."
"By the way—where's Nawaki? I haven't seen him since coming back."
"He's on ANBU duty. That mission really shook him up. He's not the same as before."
"…I see."
The two of them spoke lightly, their words flowing as naturally as if they had been an old married couple for years.
Ren had already eaten earlier, so now he simply sat and watched Tsunade. She ate heartily, cheeks flushed and beads of sweat forming on her brow.
"You… why do you keep staring at me like that?" she asked, slightly flustered.
"Sensei, just look at yourself properly," Ren replied.
"Nonsense."
"I mean it. Tsunade, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met. You're exactly my type—down to the smallest detail."
His words were direct, his gaze unwaveringly sincere.
When it comes to women, roundabout games often fall flat. More often than not, they judge by feeling rather than words. And right now, the feeling Tsunade got from him was undeniable—he truly seemed to like her.
Perhaps it was the sake clouding her senses, but she felt tipsy, her body warm. She set down her chopsticks, propping her head up with one hand as she reclined lazily on the tatami. Her amber eyes, slightly unfocused, locked onto Ren's.
The fabric of her robe had fallen a little loose around her chest, but for once, she made no move to adjust it.
"You're serious? I'm your teacher," she said quietly.
"As serious as I've ever been. If it weren't for this student-teacher boundary, I'd have confessed to you the moment we first met," Ren replied, his voice a blend of youthful honesty and a deep, magnetic timbre.
For a woman like Tsunade, it was the most dangerous kind of weapon. Her breathing grew shallow, uneven.
"But… the Hokage won't allow it…"
"I've already handled the old man," Ren interrupted, a sly grin on his lips. "I gave up every ounce of credit from my last mission—for you."
It was complete nonsense, of course. If Hiruzen Sarutobi caught even a whisper of this, he'd shut it down instantly. But in moments like this, truth didn't matter—only conviction did.
And conviction was intoxicating.
Hearing such bold, possessive words, Tsunade felt her body weaken. After all, what woman doesn't want to be treasured like a rare jewel?
She didn't answer.
Taking her silence as consent, Ren slid the partition door shut, dimming the light.
…
Ren's skill was no accident—he had been tempered by countless trials in his previous life.
For Tsunade, still a novice in such matters, the sensations were overwhelming. There was pain, yes—but it was quickly swallowed by a tide of pleasure. For a first experience, it was far more intoxicating than she ever imagined.
At the very least, one thing was certain: from this night on, blood would never again be a source of fear for her.
"The fallen petal is not a thing of sorrow; it becomes the spring soil, nurturing the flower anew."