Age Thirteen to Fourteen
The war continued, but the tide had turned.
After the jinchuriki's retreat, Kiri pulled back their forces. They still raided our outer islands, still sent assassins to infiltrate our defenses, but the full-scale invasion was over. Uzushio had survived.
But survival came at a cost.
The village was damaged. Hundreds of shinobi had died. The sealing barriers that protected our shores were weakened, and it would take years to repair them. The elders argued about what to do next—some wanted to ally more closely with Konoha, others wanted to reach out to Kumo, others wanted to retreat further into isolation.
I stayed out of the arguments. I was thirteen. What did I know about politics?
I focused on training. My Mangekyo was a new weapon, but a dangerous one. Every time I used it, my vision blurred a little more. I learned to fight without it, to rely on my chains and my taijutsu and my three-tomoe Sharingan. The Mangekyo was for emergencies only.
Tsunade visited less often as the war demanded more of her attention. Her letters became shorter, more rushed. She wrote about the wounded she couldn't save, the friends she had lost, the weight of being a medic-nin in a world that seemed determined to kill everyone she loved.
"I saved a man today," she wrote. "He had a hole in his chest the size of my fist. I closed it. I brought him back. And then he died anyway, three hours later, because his body was too weak to recover.
What's the point, Ren? What's the point of saving people if they're just going to die anyway?"
I wrote back:
"The point is that they got three more hours. Three hours to say goodbye to their family. Three hours to feel the sun on their face. Three hours to live.
That's not nothing, Tsunade. That's everything.
Don't give up. The world needs you."
She didn't write back for two weeks. When she finally did, the letter was short.
"I'm not giving up. I'm just tired.
Come visit me when this is over. I need to see your stupid face."
I smiled.
"I will. I promise."
---
The war ground on for another year.
I turned fourteen. Kushina turned nine. She was growing into a fierce, stubborn girl with too much chakra and too much attitude. She had started training with the other Uzumaki children, and she was already the best in her class.
"Big brother," she said one evening, sitting on the dock beside me. "Are you going to marry Tsunade?"
I choked on my tea. "What?"
"Are you going to marry her? You write to her all the time. You get all goofy when she visits. It's obvious."
"She's my friend."
"You don't kiss friends on the forehead."
"When did I—"
"I saw you. Last time she was here. You kissed her forehead when you thought no one was looking."
I felt my face heat up. "That's none of your business."
"So you are going to marry her."
"I'm fourteen. I'm not thinking about marriage."
"You should. She's pretty. And she's a good healer. And she likes you, even though you're weird."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
Kushina grinned. "That's what little sisters are for."
I put my arm around her and pulled her close. "You're impossible."
"I learned from the best."
We watched the sunset together, and for a little while, the war felt very far away.