Chigen's question was like a needle, lightly popping the awkward bubble that had filled the room.
Tsunade glanced up at the huge hole in the roof, then at Chigen's face—plainly saying I'm totally innocent—and, for once, a rare hint of embarrassment flickered across her expression.
"Come with me."
She tossed out three words and walked out first.
Chigen exchanged a look with Shizune. Shizune immediately hurried after Tsunade—though not before turning back to shoot Chigen a fierce glare, as if warning him not to try anything funny.
Chigen just shrugged and followed last.
Konoha at night was far quieter than it was during the day.
Tsunade didn't take the main streets. She led them through narrow, deserted back alleys instead.
In the end, they stopped in front of a sprawling estate.
It was far from the village's bustle. Moss clung to the stone lanterns by the gate. A massive wooden door stood before them, bearing the crest of the Senju clan.
The Senju compound.
Even deep into the night, you could still feel both its former glory—and its present loneliness.
Tsunade pushed open the heavy door. Air carrying the scent of dust and old timber rushed out to meet them.
"You'll stay here."
She led Chigen down a long corridor and stopped at a room that was relatively clean.
"This used to be my little brother's room. His things are still here. Clean it up yourself."
She paused, turned around, and her expression hardened—like she was issuing an S-rank order.
"Listen carefully. Today—no, last night—what happened… you don't tell anyone. Not a single word. We act like nothing happened."
"Lady Tsunade…"
Shizune protested softly, though her cheeks betrayed her by turning red.
Tsunade ignored her. She only stared at Chigen.
Chigen met her gaze—and suddenly smiled.
"Fine. But what about rent?"
Tsunade froze.
"My place has a roof-sized hole. It won't be fixed in a week or two. If I'm staying here, I'm not doing it for free."
He spread his hands, all business.
Tsunade actually laughed—half irritated, half amused. She pulled out the thick wallet Orochimaru had given her, counted out a few bills… then, after a beat, shoved the whole wallet into Chigen's arms.
"The money to repair your house is in there. Enough? I'm not charging you rent either. All I want is for you to have meals ready for me every day."
"Understood." Chigen weighed it in his hand and nodded in satisfaction.
Tsunade turned and left, clearly not interested in speaking to him one second longer.
Shizune followed behind. When she passed Chigen, she glared at him again—hard.
But this time, mixed into that warning was something she didn't even realize herself: embarrassment, irritation, and a complicated tangle of emotions.
After the two of them disappeared down the hallway, Chigen finally pushed the door open.
The room wasn't large, but it was neat.
A few ninjutsu scrolls sat on the shelf. A practice wooden sword hung on the wall.
Everything looked exactly as it must have when its owner left.
Chigen casually tossed the wallet and his new chūnin vest onto the table, then flopped onto the tatami in a spread-eagle sprawl.
The exhaustion in his body—and the tension in his mind—came crashing over him like a tide.
He closed his eyes, but his thoughts immediately began replaying the fight with Aburame Ryōma.
Substitution. Explosive tags. Transformation.
Basic shinobi tricks, all of them.
He hadn't won because his techniques were better—he'd won because "Asura Mode" gave him a raw speed advantage, and because he gambled on the enemy's mindset.
He gambled that Ryūma would underestimate him. That he'd rush to finish it. That he'd use a clone to create the perfect opening for a killing blow.
In the end, Chigen guessed right.
But it had been razor-thin.
If Minato hadn't stepped in, that final strike of his would never have reached Ryūma's real body.
And if Chigen hadn't already used Transformation to throw off Ryōma's senses—then slipped away with Substitution at the instant of the explosion—he'd be a charred corpse right now.
He still didn't have enough options.
Against an elite jōnin like Ryūma, he'd been stretched to the limit, surviving on information gaps and reckless betting.
And if it were Orochimaru-level monsters…?
Chigen opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.
[Restore]—that skill—was his greatest trump card.
And his greatest shackle.
The backlash—sharing the pain of what he copied—meant he couldn't use it casually.
He needed a reasonable cover for that ability.
A medical-nin.
The thought surfaced again.
If he became a medical-nin, he could legitimately treat the injured… and copy abilities without raising suspicion.
And the Konoha Hospital—during wartime—would be one of the busiest places in the village… and one of the most concentrated gathering points for strong shinobi.
Besides…
The best teacher was literally next door.
Tsunade's face appeared in his mind—along with that IOU she'd shoved at him for fifty thousand ryō.
He turned over, but sleep refused to come.
…
Deep in the night, only insects chirped in the yard.
Barefoot, Chigen walked slowly along the cool wooden corridor, stretching muscles that had been strained in battle.
He stopped beneath a cherry tree in the center of the courtyard.
"Can't sleep?"
He didn't turn around. He just spoke calmly.
A figure stepped out from the shadows behind him. Moonlight fell across golden hair like a layer of silver frost.
Tsunade.
She'd changed into simple loungewear too. Without the sharp edge she carried in daylight, she looked softer under the moon.
"Your sensing is better than I expected."
She walked to his side and glanced at the brand-new green vest on him.
"Shizune told me. Congratulations, Chūnin Sakuya."
"Chūnin?"
Chigen gave a self-mocking laugh.
"A chūnin who almost died at the examiner's hands?"
"You didn't die. You turned it around on him. That's enough."
Tsunade looked at him.
"You used a secret jutsu to force a speed advantage, then built a trap with nothing but Transformation and Substitution—basic tools. You finished it with psychological warfare, baiting him into showing an opening."
She paused, her gaze sharpening.
"The way you fight doesn't feel like a genin. It feels like someone who's crawled through the battlefield for more than a decade."
Chigen didn't answer.
"So you're the one who can't sleep because of the exam?"
Tsunade asked.
"No."
Chigen turned his head to look at her, mischief flickering in his eyes.
"I was thinking… maybe Lady Tsunade is the one who can't sleep because of last night."
Tsunade's body stiffened—just barely.
"Don't overthink it."
She avoided his eyes, her tone turning hard.
"I'm twenty-one years older than you, brat. To me, you're no different from Nawaki."
"Really?"
Chigen stepped closer, his nose nearly brushing her hair.
"Because your little brother wouldn't make you owe him fifty thousand ryō."
Under the moonlight, a thin blush crept across Tsunade's cheeks.
She took a step back, widening the distance, and forced the topic elsewhere.
"How long are you planning to stay here?"
"No idea."
Chigen leaned against the cherry tree, both hands folded behind his head.
"Maybe… until the day Lady Tsunade pays off her debt."
Tsunade stared at his lazy, shameless posture, irritation rising in her throat.
By habit, she lifted a hand and flicked his forehead—lightly, not hard.
Thump.
A dull sound.
Chigen clutched his forehead and let out an exaggerated yelp.
But Tsunade's hand froze in midair.
Her gaze slid past him, drifting far away.
It was a motion she'd done countless times to Nawaki.
And to Dan, too.
For a while, the only sound in the courtyard was the whisper of wind through leaves.
Finally…
Tsunade lowered her hand. When she spoke, there was a tiredness and confusion in her voice she didn't even seem aware of.
She looked at the boy in front of her—who are decades younger than her, someone who'd clawed his way back from death during an exam… and yet was still acting like a complete idiot right now.
"Brat."
"Hm?"
"What's your dream?"