The Hokage's chair was made of plush leather and mahogany, designed to project authority and comfort. Currently, it felt like it was eating her alive.
Tsunade was melted into the upholstery. Her head was thrown back against the headrest, staring at the ceiling fan that spun with a lazy, rhythmic whir-click, whir-click. She didn't look like a woman who had just accepted the title of Acting Hokage. She looked like she had been running the village for thirty years through a continuous series of wars, famines, and budget cuts.
Her skin had the grayish, papery pallor of severe chakra exhaustion. The diamond seal on her forehead—the Strength of a Hundred—was dim, a dull violet bruise against her skin.
Reviving Kakashi had been a punch to the gut. Rebuilding Sylvie's eyes had been microsurgery on a spiritual level. Doing them back-to-back was suicide.
"Lady Tsunade?" Shizune whispered, placing a stack of documents on the desk with the gentleness of someone handling a bomb.
"Burn them," Tsunade mumbled without lifting her head.
"It's the Daimyo's official decree," Shizune said apologetically. "And the mission rosters."
Tsunade groaned. She peeled her head off the leather. Her neck cracked—a sound like dry twigs snapping.
"Fine," she rasped. "Send them in."
The doors opened. The office suddenly felt very small.
Naruto Uzumaki marched in first, vibrating with energy that Tsunade found personally offensive given her current state. Behind him came Sylvie, looking pale but seeing clearly again. Then the Ino-Shika-Chō trio drifted in, followed by Asuma Sarutobi, who smelled of clove cigarettes.
And finally, Anko Mitarashi.
Anko looked miserable. She was covered in gray dust, smelling of old parchment and mildew—the stench of the archives where the Council had buried her.
"Report," Tsunade said, forcing herself to sit up straight. She grabbed the Hokage hat from the desk and slammed it onto her head. It was crooked. She didn't care.
"Archive sorting is complete," Anko grumbled, picking a cobweb off her trench coat. "I found a recipe for tofu soup from the Second Hokage and three dead rats. The Council is pleased."
"Screw the Council," Tsunade said.
The room went silent. Shikamaru raised an eyebrow.
"You're done with the archives," Tsunade declared, her voice gaining a fraction of its usual thunder. "I'm the Stand-In. The Daimyo gave me the reins to see if I'd crash the wagon. My first act is to put my best trackers back in the field."
She pointed a finger at Anko.
"Mitarashi. You are reinstated as Team 7's Jōnin leader. Effective immediately."
Anko blinked. Her jaw dropped slightly. A slow, predatory grin spread across her face, cracking the mask of boredom she'd been wearing.
"Seriously?" Anko asked.
"Don't make me regret it," Tsunade warned. "You're going to Suna."
She tossed a scroll to Asuma. He caught it lazily.
"The invasion hurt us," Tsunade explained, leaning forward, her elbows groaning against the desk. "But it hurt Suna more. They lost their Kage. They were manipulated by Orochimaru. We need to stabilize that alliance before the Earth or Lightning nations decide to scavenge the carcass."
"A diplomatic mission?" Asuma asked, reading the scroll.
"A show of faith," Tsunade corrected. "Team 10 and Team 7. We send the heirs of the noble clans—Yamanaka, Nara, Akimichi—to show respect. And we send the Jinchūriki to show strength."
Naruto pumped his fist. "Yeah! Road trip! We're gonna fix the Sand Village, believe it!"
Sylvie stepped forward. She looked at the group. Then she looked at the empty space beside Naruto.
"Where's Sasuke?" she asked quietly.
The air in the room temperature dropped.
Tsunade's expression hardened. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.
"Sasuke isn't going."
"Is he still hurt?" Naruto asked, his excitement dampening. "I thought you healed everyone, Grandma!"
"I tried," Tsunade said, her voice flat.
She remembered the hospital room earlier that morning. She remembered walking in, hands glowing with healing chakra, ready to knit the Uchiha's shattered bones and torn muscles. And she remembered the look in his eyes.
It wasn't fear. It was hunger.
"Don't touch me," Sasuke had hissed, clutching his broken arm. "Don't take it away."
"Take what away?" Tsunade had asked.
"The pain," he had answered, staring at the ceiling with dead eyes. "The pain is useful. The suffering is experience. If you heal me... I forget the weakness."
Tsunade looked at the kids now. She decided to spare them the specific, edgy details.
"He's not ready," Tsunade lied smoothly. "His recovery requires... solitude. He stays here."
She waved her hand. "Dismissed. Pack your bags. You leave in one hour."
The genin scrambled out, voices overlapping in excitement.
"I bet I can eat more cactus steaks than you!" Naruto shouted.
"You're on!" Chōji yelled back, crunching a chip. "But I heard they have Scorpion on a stick!"
"Ew," Ino wrinkled her nose. "Sylvie, you're riding with me in the carriage. I am not sitting next to bug-breath and chip-dust."
Sylvie laughed, linking arms with Ino. "Deal. As long as Shikamaru doesn't sleep on me."
"No promises," Shikamaru yawned, hands in his pockets.
They spilled out into the hallway.
Asuma and Anko lingered at the door. They stepped outside, letting the door click shut, but the window was open.
Click. Fweee.
The sound of two lighters sparking in unison drifted in.
Tsunade swiveled her chair, looking out the window. She saw the two Jōnin leaning against the railing. Smoke curled up into the blue sky—one stream smelling of cloves, the other of cheap tobacco. They didn't speak. They just smoked in the comfortable silence of two soldiers who were glad to be doing something other than sorting paper.
Tsunade looked past them.
She watched Naruto and Sylvie walking down the street. Naruto was laughing, throwing his arms wide, taking up as much space as possible. Sylvie was walking beside him, quieter, watching him with a look that was protective, analytical, and fond.
Tsunade felt a pang in her chest. A ghost of a memory overlaying the scene.
She saw a white-haired idiot laughing too loud. She saw herself, young and serious, shaking her head at him.
He's the loud one, Tsunade thought, watching Naruto. And she's the one who keeps him from running off a cliff.
She remembered Sylvie's eyes from yesterday—the cracked glass, the fractal ruin of a power too big for her body. And she remembered Naruto's Rasengan, a storm held in a shell.
They're dangerous, Tsunade realized, closing her eyes as the fatigue finally pulled her under. Both of them. Just like we were.
"Good luck," she whispered to the empty office.
She let her head fall back and closed her eyes, thinking that- for the first time in many years -she believed good luck would follow.