The Fire Daimyo's Council Chamber smelled of sandalwood incense, wet silk, and the suffocating stench of bureaucracy.
Tsunade sat on a cushioned zabuton that was far too soft, her knees protesting the formal posture. Behind her, Shizune was a statue of nervous energy, clutching Tonton so tightly the pig let out a muffled, high-pitched squeal every few minutes.
Across the low lacquer table, the Fire Daimyo sat behind a sheer screen. The only thing Tsunade could see clearly was the rhythmic, hypnotic movement of his folding fan.
Snap. Swish. Snap. Swish.
It was louder than the ticking of a clock. It was driving a spike of irritation directly into Tsunade's frontal lobe, right where her hangover was currently throwing a party.
"Gone?" the Daimyo's voice floated through the screen, airy and detached, yet laced with petulance. "Just... gone? Without a formal audience? Without a status report on the Sound Village?"
"Jiraiya operates on his own timeline," Tsunade said, keeping her voice level. It took effort. She wanted to flip the table. "He is pursuing leads on Orochimaru. He judged the security of the village to be immediate enough to warrant his departure."
"He judged," an elderly councilor sniffed from the side. He wore robes that looked heavier than he was. "Since when does the Toad Sage dictate the security protocols of the Land of Fire? He wanders in, disrupts the hierarchy, and wanders out."
"He brought you a Hokage," Tsunade shot back, her amber eyes narrowing.
"A reluctant one," the Daimyo hummed.
Snap. The fan closed.
The screen shifted. The Daimyo leaned forward. He was a small man, drowning in layers of red and gold robes, his face painted with the white makeup of nobility. He didn't look like a ruler; he looked like an expensive doll.
"And a risky one," the Daimyo added. "You have been gone a long time, Princess. The gambling dens of the nations know your face better than your own people do. We hear... stories. Debts. Alcohol. A fear of blood."
Tsunade didn't flinch. Under the table, her fist clenched so hard her nails dug into her palm. She focused on the pain to ground herself.
"The blood phobia is gone," she stated flatly. "As for the debts... they are being managed."
"By borrowing against the village treasury?" the councilor muttered.
Tsunade glared at him. He withered, looking down at his scroll.
"The point stands," the Daimyo sighed, reopening his fan. Swish. "We need assurance. Stability. Sarutobi is gone. The village is fractured. We cannot have a leader who folds a winning hand because she loses her nerve."
The heavy oak doors to the side creaked open.
"Special Jonin Mitarashi Anko. Jonin Hatake Kakashi," the herald announced.
Anko strode in, looking like a caged tiger forced to walk on a leash. She wore her standard trench coat, but she was fidgeting, her eyes darting to the corners of the room. Kakashi walked beside her, his single visible eye dead and unreadable, his posture slouching but alert.
They knelt.
"Report on the... asset," the Daimyo commanded. "The girl. Sylvie."
Tsunade watched Anko. She knew Anko had been training Sylvie—and judging by the girl's improvement, Anko hadn't been gentle.
"She's progressing," Anko said, her voice raspy. "Chakra control is high. Tactical analysis is above average. She survived the invasion and assisted in the Sannin Deadlock. She's not a civilian anymore."
"Assisted," the councilor sneered. "She is an anomaly. A foreigner with no lineage. And you, Mitarashi... you are the former student of the traitor who just killed the Third."
Anko's shoulders stiffened. The air around her grew hot.
"I am loyal to the Leaf," Anko hissed.
"Are you?" the Daimyo asked lightly. "Or are you just waiting for your master to call?"
Tsunade slammed her hand onto the table. It wasn't a chakra-enhanced strike—she didn't want to destroy the building—but the sound was like a gunshot.
The fan stopped moving.
"Anko is a Jonin of this village," Tsunade growled. "She fought Orochimaru in the Forest of Death. Question her loyalty again, and you question my judgment."
"We are questioning your judgment," the Daimyo pointed out, unfazed.
He looked at the papers in front of him.
"Here is the proposal. The Council—and Danzō-dono, who sends his regrets for his absence—believes we need a demonstration. Proof that the Slug Princess hasn't lost everything to the bottle."
Tsunade felt a chill at the mention of Danzō. She scanned the room.
In the corner, standing perfectly still in the shadows, was an ANBU guard she didn't recognize. He wore a mask, but his gloves covered every inch of his skin. He stood with a stillness that wasn't human. Torune Aburame, she realized. Root. Danzō was listening.
"The girl, Sylvie," the Daimyo said. "She is raw. Unrefined. And potentially dangerous. You will take her."
Tsunade blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You will mentor her," the Daimyo ordered. "Personally. Not as a Hokage to a subordinate, but as a Master to an Apprentice. Mold her. If you can take a jagged stone and turn it into a diamond, we will know you still possess the discipline to lead the thousands."
Tsunade looked at Anko. Anko's expression was a mix of relief and fury—relief that Sylvie would be safe, fury that she was being replaced.
"And Anko?" Tsunade asked.
"Reassigned," the councilor said, stamping a document. "Menial duties. Archive sorting. Perhaps border patrol in the quiet sectors. Somewhere... out of the way. Until the heat regarding her former master dies down."
It was a demotion. A quarantine.
"And Hatake?" Tsunade looked at the silver-haired Jonin.
"ANBU Black Ops has requested his return," the Daimyo said. "The shadows have grown long since Sarutobi died. We need our best wolf back in the dark."
Kakashi didn't argue. He simply bowed his head. "As you command."
The meeting ended with the snap of the fan.
"Prove to us you can build the future, Princess," the Daimyo chirped, standing up to leave. "Don't gamble with this one."
Tsunade stood as the nobles filed out. The room felt suddenly empty, yet heavy with the scent of trapdoors closing.
Anko stood up, brushing dust off her knees. She looked at Tsunade.
"She's got a mouth on her," Anko warned, a smirk tugging at her lips, though her eyes were cold. "Don't break her."
"I don't break things, Anko," Tsunade said, crossing her arms. "I fix them."
"Could've fooled me," Anko muttered, turning on her heel to leave for her new life in the archives.
Kakashi lingered for a second.
"She's in good hands," Kakashi said quietly. "Good luck, Lady Hokage."
He vanished in a swirl of leaves, heading back to the ANBU locker rooms to retrieve a mask he had hoped to leave behind.
Tsunade stood alone in the center of the chamber, Shizune hovering anxiously at her elbow. In the corner, the Aburame guard, Torune, finally moved. He didn't bow. He just melted into the shadows, taking his report back to the darkness beneath the village.
Tsunade rubbed her temples. The headache was back.
"Shizune," she sighed.
"Yes, Lady Tsunade?"
"Find me the girl. And find me a drink."