Chigen's body reacted before his mind did.
He didn't get up immediately. Remaining flat on his back, he quietly gathered chakra around his ears, carefully tracing the source and trajectory of the sound.
Not the wind.
The noise was extremely faint. It lingered briefly on the roof tiles—like a night owl landing without a sound—then vanished just as quickly.
Not one presence. Two.
The chakra felt cold and tightly restrained, devoid of emotion—like two moving stones.
ANBU?
No… more like Root, Danzo's people who operated in the dark.
Chigen's heart sank.
I've been marked.
He lay there without moving until both presences completely left his sensory range.
Only then did he slowly exhale.
Sitting up, he realized his forehead was already slick with cold sweat.
He'd expected trouble the moment the Third Hokage invited him in the office—but he hadn't thought it would come this fast.
Tonight was just a probe.
What about next time?
He threw off the blanket and stepped barefoot onto the cold floor.
From a hidden compartment beneath the bed, he retrieved several strands of ninja wire as thin as hair, along with two tiny bells barely audible to the ear.
Within minutes, he expertly set up a few simple alarm traps along the windows and door seams.
Only then did he feel slightly at ease and lie back down.
The irritation refused to fade.
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to sleep.
Just as his consciousness blurred, on the verge of drifting off—
Boom!
The bedboard suddenly sprang upward. A tremendous force erupted from beneath, launching him into the air.
Chigen's pupils contracted sharply. He twisted his body midair, preparing to break the fall—
But before he could make his next move, a dark figure reeking of alcohol burst out from under the bed, moving with utterly unreasonable speed and strength, pinning him hard to the floor.
Bang!
The impact sent a shock through his back, making it feel like his internal organs had shifted.
A body—soft, yet absurdly heavy—pressed down on him. The force was like being smashed by a small mountain.
He couldn't move.
His nose filled with the sharp scent of alcohol—and… a strangely pleasant feminine fragrance.
"Don't move! Move again and I'll tear your bones apart!"
A slurred yet overwhelmingly oppressive female voice sounded beside his ear.
With great effort, Chigen turned his head. By the moonlight filtering through the window, he finally saw who was on top of him.
Long blonde hair spilled messily around her, a few strands brushing against his cheek.
Delicate features.
A purple diamond-shaped mark on her forehead.
Even half-drunk, her breathtaking beauty was impossible to conceal.
…Tsunade?
One of the Legendary Sannin of Konoha.
The infamous gambler who always lost and fled from debt.
The woman of every man's dream—Princess Tsunade?
Chigen's brain shut down.
What was this?
A disaster from hell?
Or a gift… sent straight from above?
"Mm… what kind of dump is this…"
Tsunade muttered vaguely, then—apparently finding a comfortable pillow—buried her face in the hollow of Chigen's neck and even rubbed against it.
Warm, damp breath brushed his skin.
Chigen froze completely.
"H-Hey…"
He tried to speak.
"Shut up!"
Tsunade lifted her head irritably and grabbed his chin with one hand, forcing his mouth closed.
Her eyes were unfocused, but the aura of a powerhouse hadn't diminished in the slightest.
"Listen, kid. I'm sleeping here tonight. If you tell anyone—especially that old man—I'll shove you back into your mother's womb."
She seemed to remember something and added:
"I don't have money for rent. Those debt collectors outside are like rabid dogs. I'm borrowing your bed for the night. Got a problem with that?"
Without waiting for an answer, she tilted her head and collapsed against him again, her breathing quickly evening out.
…She fell asleep?
Chigen could only laugh bitterly as he felt the weight on top of him.
What kind of situation was this?
Isn't this too forced???
He tried pushing her away.
She didn't budge an inch.
That seemingly soft body was heavy as iron.
After exhausting himself like a bug trapped under a rock, he finally managed—inch by inch—to wriggle free.
Chigen stood up, supporting his aching waist, every bone in his body protesting.
He looked down at Tsunade sprawled on the floor, sleeping without a shred of caution.
She had casually fallen asleep in a stranger's home. Her clothes were slightly disheveled from earlier, revealing pale skin and stunning curves.
So this is one of the Legendary Sannin…
Chigen sighed, resigned, and fetched a blanket from the wardrobe, draping it over her.
Throw her out?
Don't be ridiculous.
Even ignoring whether he could beat her, if she ran into debt collectors—or Danzo's people—that would be real trouble.
He studied her sleeping face.
Without her aggressive presence, her brows were faintly knit, as if weighed down by worries that couldn't be dispelled.
Even that flawless face carried unmistakable exhaustion.
This woman bore far too much.
Chigen shook his head, casting away his wandering thoughts.
He moved to the corner, sat cross-legged against the wall, and decided to make do for the night.
...
...
He didn't know how much time passed before faint rustling sounds startled him awake.
Opening his eyes, he saw Tsunade sitting up, rubbing her temples with a look of intense hangover misery.
"Water…"
Her voice was hoarse.
Chigen silently stood and handed her a cup.
She drank it in one go, seeming to clear her head a little.
Then she looked up at him, squinting—her gaze appraising, and… faintly puzzled.
"You…"
She seemed to remember something—or maybe not.
"Last night… your service wasn't bad."
"—Pfft!"
Chigen nearly spat some imaginary blood.
Service?
What service?!
Tsunade swayed to her feet and stepped closer, hooking a finger under his chin. The smell of alcohol rushed at him again.
"Looks decent. Body's a bit weak, though."
She smacked her lips like a customer evaluating goods.
"So—how much for the night?"
Chigen's face went pitch-black.
He'd been mistaken for a gigolo.
"Tsunade-sama, I think you've misunderstood—"
"Save it."
She cut him off impatiently, rummaged around her clothes, then froze in embarrassment when she found nothing.
Her eyes flicked, and she suddenly leaned close, lowering her voice.
"How about this, kid. Do me a favor. Someone might come looking for me later. You just tell them we spent last night together—you know what I mean. Do that, and I won't shortchange you."
Before Chigen could respond, she did something even more outrageous.
Tsunade shoved him onto the bed and pressed down on him again, pinning him firmly.
"Hey—!"
His words were cut off.
Soft lips, carrying the taste of alcohol, pressed against his.
His eyes flew wide open. His mind went blank.
Tsunade's kiss was forceful, unquestionable—reckless.
More like a bite than a kiss.
He could feel her trembling—and the torrent of emotions spilling from her: despair, pain, and self-indulgent escape.
Alcohol was the catalyst.
Desire the fuse.
In this moment, she wasn't one of the Legendary Sannin.
Not the peerless medical ninja.
She was just a battered woman, trying to flee reality and numb herself in the most primal way.
Chigen's resistance crumbled under the impact.
Reason burned away. Instinct took over.
He was a normal man.
Any man who chicken out here is a p*ssy.
And the woman on top of him was the one he actually admired.
He wrapped his arms around her.
The air in the room grew steamier.
Outside though, the moonlight remained cold and distant.
Inside, an accident born of absurdity slid steadily toward the edge of control.