Book One: Tsunade's Chance- Vivify
Author's Notes:
Summary of Book One Tsunade's Chance: Sent decades into her past Tsunade's adult conscience is placed within her six-year-old mind and body. Confused and unsure of what is actually happening to her and with her memories of her possibly past life at her side she now guides a younger self through the life she has already lived, feeling that it is her duty to relive her life and rectify all that went wrong. Though... No one said she couldn't have her own fun along the way...
USING SUFFIXES
Obaa-san (grandmother)
Okaa-san (mother)
Oba-san (aunt)
Jiji/Sofu/Jii/Ojii-san (grandfather)
Otou-san (father)
Oji-san (uncle)
Nii-san (brother)
Onii-san (older brother)
Ototo-san (little brother)
Itoko-san (cousin)
Nee-san (sister)
Onee-san (older sister)
Imotou-san (little sister)
-Teme (bastard)
-buso (bitch)
-dobe (idiot)
-baka (idiot)
"Tsunade..! Don't go! Tsunade, wake-up! Please! Tsunade!" A strong yet ever fading voice called from a distance away, growing more and more muffled as the pain and sorrow increased with each syllable spoken. I knew the voice's owner but could not place the name or face to it. The more I concentrated on the voice the farther it got yet the louder it became yet morphed in such a strange way. As the voice warped from sorrow to loving laughter it felt like my soul was being torn from my body, though, somehow, it was not a painful experience.
The voice contorted drastically with time, becoming older, more mature, more angry- No, annoyed? The two voices erratically intertwined then unraveled once more into two separate entities, each time the younger of the two seemed to fade from both my ears and memory. At last when there was only one voice remaining. "Senju Tsunade, get out of bed, sapling!"
Sapling...? I knew it could never be. Only one person I ever knew used that term. Just one and he had died so many years ago. My eyelids pressed together tightly to ward away the memories of yesteryears, but it was all in vain. The memories flooded back to me as if they happening now, it felt so real...
My world was dark behind my eyelids, closed from sheer refusal to crawl out of bed and 'Greet the morning sun with my branches stretched high so that the sapling may grow,' as Sofu-sama used to say nearly every morning of my pre-Genin life. My covers were ripped off to expose me to the morning chill. Despite knowing what came next I never learned; I would curl up into a ball and buried my face deeper into the pillow in retaliation. What I loathed then but later looked back on lovingly happened not a moment later; Sofu-sama used his Kekkei Genkai. A tendril would sprout from my wooden headboard, coiled itself around my ankle and hoisted me into the air; though he never knew I would peak out over the pillow to watch the accursed thing do so.
"Go away," I would half moan half snap groggily, always muffled from the pillow. Despite the fact that I never saw his face I knew his expression simply said 'As you wish Hime,' when the vine would drop me faster than a Shinobi would an activated explosive tag. I bounced three times exactly on the bed upon release before I sat up and rubbed my eyes as if I would cry and shouted, "Obaaaaaaaaaa-saamaaaaa! Sofu-sama's being a meanie again!"
"Oh? Is that so?" Her firm yet loving voice would float from up the hall where she would still be getting ready, fixing her graying red hair into its ornate fashion with clips and pins. Sofu-sama's face would pale in mock fear as the click, click, click of her low heals moved swiftly and elegantly down the hall. She would waltz into the room, still clipping seal tags into her twin buns.
But this time… I never spoke… Not a word. He didn't drop me the way he used to. I never bounced or called for my grandmother to rush to my aid. Her voice never drifted down the hallway and into my room, making my grandfather's face look as if it had been drawn on rice paper. I don't understand… I always told him to go away, it was never anything else… Instead… Instead…
A tendril sprouted from my wooden headboard, coiled itself around my ankle and hoisted me into the air my stomach lurched at the sudden movement and my brain rattled around in my skull as I wailed in misery. My intestines had jerked violently, seemingly folding over each other like enemy cadavers would in a slaughter; acid burned my throat as vomit expelled itself from my body, soiling bed sheets that had been clean and soft moments ago.
It was scarce and sparse in my memory as to the times my grandfather raised his voice, either in anger or concern making his exclamation of, 'Tsunade-chan!' ten times more mortifying than anything I can care to remember.
With the speed that graced any and all Shinobi worth their spit, I was cradled in Sofu-sama's arms not seconds before I went limp as if I was a victim of fatigue. Though my mind was clouded with pain, worse than any hangover I have ever had, I sensed my obaa-sama's unique Chakra miraculously appear in the room, no doubt via Whirlpool Shunshin. The aging woman moved with such a swift silence that death's eyes would turn green with envy.
I moaned in agony as she took me from my grandfather as gently as she would any of her patients, but it made no difference. I felt like a tiny figurine that had broken lose inside a snow globe, the smallest of movements sent me in whirl as if someone had shaken the glass orb. Obaa-sama's surprisingly soft and gentle hand touched my forehead so lightly and so briefly I was sure I had imagined it until she spoke, "She's burning up, Hashi…" Her voice grew fainter and fainter with each word until nothing… Nothing but darkness… And silence…
It seemed the moment the darkness had engulfed me my blurred vision came slowly back into focus. As I looked around I duly and dully became aware of my surroundings. The room was dim, lit only by candle light. I was lying in a bed much larger and softer than my own. I shifted ever so slightly taking note of just how soft it was, too soft. Softer than a cloud… So soft that it could only belong to an elder… My grandparents bed…
My head still dizzy with fever, turned to bury my nose in the silk sheets. With a deep, calming inhale their scent flooded my senses. They never smelt like your typical old person, joint ointments, dead skin, moldy clothes, decaying papers and books… No, it was always a fresh smell, my grandmother smelling of her peppermint tea and Sunagakure's Desert Flower perfume; though I never understood why she felt so attached to such an odd but pleasant scent of a foreign land; my grandfather like fresh paper from the never-ending supply of paperwork that hardly ever seemed to pile up, and a spring forest, the buds bursting into a forever full bloom.
My eyes opened once more to only meet the earthy toned, illustrious bedspread. Rolling over, I clutched the deep, rich brown sheets like a lifeline; with one hand I traced the embroidered branches on the comforter. Again, I closed my eyes remembering the exact pattern, leaf for leaf. The intricately sewn blanket swayed in the wind like flag on a black background that served no purpose but to show the single thought that ran through my mind. The large maple tree stitched in with such care onto a sky blue background, a cloudless sky. The green grass that looked as though if you leapt you would land on the soft grass sitting at the base of the sweet maple outlined in golden thread, rather than bounce on the cover to let it fold and embrace you like water.
Voices jolted me from my reverie that teetered on the edge of a nap's dream. Each word spoken felt like a knock on the door of my consciousness, reminding me that this could all be nothing more than a dream despite how much I willed and wished it to be reality. Please… Please, let this be as it seems to be… Please…
"Inohana, you cannot go in there," Obaa-sama's voice sounded from the other side of the closed, sliding door with firmness and authority. "She is ill, needs rest and could very well be contagious, whatever she has."
"What do you mean I cannot go in there you senile old woman? I am her mother! And have more rights to her than you do!" an angry and disrespectful snap that could only belong to my mother spat in reply.
"That maybe so, Inohana, but none the less…" My grandmother's voice became dangerously quite. Or was it quiet and dangerous? It was often hard to tell the difference with her yet somehow, hearing her voice like this… It made me feel safe. "This is beyond a mother's care; this must be left to someone who is trained to take care of the ill and injured. Are you a medical-nin or a civilian doctor? No. No, you are not! You have no training to do anything of the kind, a decent cook yes, but undoubtedly not a doctor," It was clearer than ice that my grandmother would not give ground but my mother just kept at it despite the fact that the verdict of the argument had already been cast in iron and written in stone.
"Well, if it is a doctor she needs then I shall take her into the Village and take her to the hospital," my mother stated stubbornly, her rage grew with every syllable. "And when I get there with her-"
"I will take command of my hospital; put my granddaughter into my care, just as she would be here. Inohana, my dear, you are wasting your breath, your time, your effort as well as mine. And, right now, I must say, mine is more valuable than yours!" Obaa-sama's voice had begun to rise in volume and irritation. "Now, Inohana, I would appreciate it if you would stay out from under my feet and go occupy yourself somewhere else and leave the child to me," I could hear my mother stutter and stammer in fury, at a loss for words, as the door slid open and vanish as it closed.
"Temper, temper that woman… Inohana… Well, those Yamanaka got the 'boar' part right but they sure messed up with the 'flower' part… The day that woman… Ooh…With an uncontrollable rage like hers it is a good thing she is n- Shinobi- Wound up dead-…" Obaa-sama's mutters and mumbles of annoyance were hardly audible as she approached. A heavy sigh filled the air as I head the gentle click, click, click of my grandmother's footsteps. "In the Shinobi world those that let their anger fly are the first to die. Remember that well, Tsunade."
My eyes flew open in shock that she knew I was awake and had heard every word of the heated conversation that had taken place between mother-and-daughter-in-law. A simple chuckle escaped behind my grandmother's closed lips before she spoke, "You have your mother's, and I must admit the Uzumaki, temper. A dangerous double dose... Be wary of it, child. It is not your friend," I felt the bed sink and the springs creak as she sat down on the king sized bed beside me. "Now, how are you feeling, Tsunade?"
I took a deep breath as if inhaling the rare and unusual notes of concern and compassion in the aged woman's voice. In all her years of pain and torment, sourced from seeing her comrades die before her eyes and under her hands that worked so desperately to save them, murdering for the sake of what she loved, decades of being the pariah of the elder council for what she was, the Kyuubi's vessel. Any emotion having to do with love did not easily pass into her voice. And I had always savored every word when she allowed love and approval to be known. "Dizzy… My head hurts… My stomach's in knots… It…" I moaned holding my hand on the side of my hot cheek. "It feels like the world's worst hangover…"
I swear I could almost feel her stiffen at these words. "And you would know what a hangover feels like how exactly?" Her voice was terse and tense as she brought a cup of warm tea to my lips. Too weak to take it from her I parted my lips so she could tilt it back. The warm aroma of herbs swirled around me as the gracious gulp of the brew danced on my taste buds; it flooded my mind with comfort and an idea of how to avoid trouble.
I spoke as if I were walking on glass. "I overheard Sofu-sama and Tobi Oji-san talking about something called a hangover… And this suuure feels like one," I stressed the word 'sure' to sound as childlike as possible. Though I still did not know if what was happening was reality or a figment of my imagination the last thing I needed was Obaa-sama's temper snapping.
A weighted silence hung over us for what seemed like hours before she spoke once more. "Well, I'll have to talk to those two about conducting such conversations in front of a child. And before you try to defend them, child, they are both plenty capable Shinobi and should be able to tell when a child is eavesdropping on them," Her tone was firm and final as she placed the empty china on the nightstand with a firm thump; any attempt I would make to defend either of them would wind up being my downfall, more so than my temper would.
As I bit back sigh she placed her wrist across my forehead with a slight frown. "Well, your fever is nearly gone," Her voice held nothing professionalism as she began to pull away. I don't know where I got the nerve or courage to do it, but I grabbed her wrist and pressed it to my forehead. Her apical pulse against my warm skin felt calm and soothing, a constant, steady beat. I wished for it to never leave, for her to sit by my side forever. When she had died-
"Oh, Tsunade… You must grow up, child. Had you not have gotten sick you would have become a Kunoichi today," I made a small, fragile noise that was a cross between acknowledging that I had heard her gentle scold and a protest that she should try and pull away again. My bleary brown eyes looked up at her pleadingly, not wanting her to go. Her pupil-less teal eyes softened at my gaze, though often aloof and conservative she was still my grandmother. A tired and jaded breath left her body as I felt her take me into her arms and pull me to her chest. "Though you are still a child… I say it enough, don't I? Hmph…"
That 'hmph' was the closest thing to a laugh I can ever recall her doing in my childhood. As the years passed she became more affectionate, never really laughing until Nawaki was a toddler. For the first time in decades, I remembered just how much I envied him, how there were moments that I had hated him. Now thinking it I realized just how horrible it sounded, to envy my beloved and departed baby brother over something as trivial as that.
My grandmother's voice brought me back to what I so desperately hoped was the present. "You still need some rest Tsunade," Every word she spoke demanded that there be no contradiction or opposition. I pressed myself to her soft bosom, I was not in the mood nor did I wish to oppose her demand. I felt her warm breath on the top of my head as she squeezed me gently in her embrace. "I suppose I could stay until you fall asleep. Rest is the quickest way to getting better. The sooner you are well, the sooner you get to be a Kunoichi."
"But… But I- a-aaahm a Kunoichi…" I yawned and protested as I fought the embrace of sleep and the darkness that came with it.
"Not yet you are not. You may have passed the Academy, but you have not gotten your Hitai-ate yet. No, perhaps tomorrow if you are feeling well enough… Tobirama held off the announcement of squads today just for you. Don't be stubborn now, Tsunade. Sleep. Sleep…" Just before I lost consciousness I could have sworn I felt her place a kiss on my forehead. But that cannot be, she hardly ever kissed me; only when I was going through the most difficult decision of my life did she kiss me. "Sleep, child. Dream of becoming strong and proud, strong enough to protect all you love and proud of who you are," If she said anything after that I did not hear, just as she commanded I slept and dreamt of just that, being proud and strong. Just like her.
When I opened my eyes once more blinding light of the Sun greeted my soar eyes. I blinked groggily in the late dawn to observe where I was just as I had earlier. The walls were pink. The bedspread was pink. The headboard was painted pink. As I looked at the floor the throw rug was pink. Everything was the blinding color of pink. It was my room, my old childhood bedroom. The bedroom my mother had decorated before I was even born and had hardly changed since. Every Kami dammed blessed thing was pink! I hate pink. While I may disagree with many things my grandmother says about my mom I will agree with one thing, my mom is a bit of an air head…
Dully I placed my right hand on my left should and pinched as hard as I could. I bit my lip as I continued to squeeze down; I broke skin and drew blood. When pain did not wake me from whatever Genjutsu or dream I was trapped in I sprang out of bed and slipped on the floral pink throw rug before I ran for the full body mirror across the room. The pink framed full body mirror. Even the glass had a pink tint to it. I watched my pupils dilate and felt my heart seize from a blend of raw emotions at what stood before me. It was myself, as a child. I couldn't stop it from happening. A scream escaped my throat and echoed throughout the entire mansion.
My eyes never left the surely deceiving glass as I heard several cries and shouts of, 'Tsunade!' sound in response. Though I never heard them coming, I recognized their Chakra a mile off. Each Chakra matched perfectly and with just as much vivacity as their faces did, forever engraved in my mind. A generally calm and graceful teal, Mito Obaa-sama her graying red hair ornately styled, eyes nearly the same shade as her Chakra, always smooth like silk, wrinkles of worry deeply etched into her light complexion. A lush and firm green, Hashirma Sofu-sama his hair long and ever black even as age began to take its hold on him, his eyes a much darker shade of brown than my own and skin ever tan. Blue, vibrant and lively and flowed like water, Granduncle Tobirama his hair had been white and his eyes red since birth, pale skin, all the markings of an albino, his red facial markings painted proudly upon his face granted upon him by the Inuzuka Clan for rescuing the infant heir from some circumstance that had never been explained to me. Finally, my father's…
His was nowhere near as strong or vivid as those of the elder generation but still there and not one I like to remember. It had always been dull and dim as if he were depressed. A grayish-brown that never made sense to me, he had always seemed so happy whenever I saw him, his brown eyes would sparkle as he called me his 'Hime', his spiky, mousey brown hair in a warrior's wolf tail. I cannot recall anything else… Daddy…
The door slid open with a bang! as the four Shinobi burst into the room. Though their reflection could not be seen in the mirror nor did I look their way I knew they had kunai drawn, ready to spill blood if needed. My gaze was still fixated on the pink tinted glass. Several sighs of relief and annoyance filled the recently tense air.
"Well, if she is well enough to let out a scream like that over a serious case of bed head then I'd say she is more than well enough to claim her Hitai-ate and take her place amongst Konoha's ranks," My grandmother's voice was calm yet concise as she turned to leave, her heals clicking softly down the hallway swiftly followed by Tobirama Oji-san's howls of relieved laughter.
"Tsunade I know you hair is a mess but you don't have to scream," My grandfather said without a doubt shaking his head as he muttered something about women and their hair. Their rapid appearance and swift leave hardly fazed me, all I could feel was numbness radiating from where I had pinched myself, swarming the rest of my body as well as my mind.
It was like looking into a window of time. The rounded face of a child stared back at me, expression a mix between panic and curiosity. My eyes were large and round, not only with emotion but the naturalness that graced a child. At long last I broke the staring contest with my reflection and studied myself. My body was underdeveloped, the usual mountains of breast were gone; my chest flatter than an enemy squished beneath an Akimichi's signature Human Bullet Tank. The curves of womanhood had vanished, hips now narrow. My stomach was no longer flat; though well toned it was pushed outward. Like a child's. To be quite honest I was almost a stranger to myself.
Out of nothing other than sheer inquisitiveness I dared myself to look at my hair. I cringed. Obaa-sama's statement of 'serious case of bed head' was the understatement of the century. My hair stuck out at all angles, tangled in knots, my part shot to hell… It took everything I had to not scream a second time.
With shaking hands I reached for the brush on the desk beside the mirror. Like everything else in the room… It was pink. And it was the only pink thing in the room I even liked, even the bristles on the damn thing were pink. The metal brush painted pink with golden ornate, swirling patterns etched deep in the back and handle of the brush never failed me once in the thirty-nine years I had owned it. Eventually though my debts had grown too great and I had to pawn it, getting cheated out of one of my few childhood possessions that I held dear.
My mind raced a faster than a Kusagakure steed as it galloped across the plains, through grass taller than the Hokage Tower and depending on the variety, sharper than a samurai's blade. What's going on? None of this can be true! None of this can be real! Where are Shizune and Sakura and Ino…? Where is that crazed former student of Orochimaru begging for another dangerous mission? Where are Koharu and Homura to nag me about something or another that I could really care less about? No stop freaking out! A Shinobi never panics! Yeah, well… I'm not one yet apparently! That doesn't matter! Stop making excuses!
The war in my head continued until I heard my mother shout, "Tsunade, breakfast!" from the kitchen. My heart leapt and pounded in my chest. Though she may be an airhead she was still my mother. I haven't seen my mom since I was twelve! Or will be twelve… Oh forget it! Even if it all was a big deception I came to the shocking realization that I did not care.
I raced down the halls of my childhood home, lined with table holding objects of high value some glittering silver and other just simple crafts the children of the clan had made over the years. It was all precious, all valuable and irreplaceable. The elaborate woodwork seemed to blend into nothing but smears of background. Portraits and landscapes whizzed by me in a blur of color, it made it all seem more like a dream than I would care to admit. As I heard voices of my family float from the kitchen brought me to a sudden halt.
"You had no right to put Tsunade back in her bedroom, Inohana!" Obaa-sama's voice flowed deadly like a toxin in the bloodstream. I closed my eyes and envisioned her sitting at the table eating a simple bowl of boiled rice delicately with the expertly crafted and carved chopsticks my grandfather had given her years ago. How often I had stared at them in wonder. Such a simple gift yet it meant so much to her, more then she would ever admit.
"I am her mother! Of course I had the right!" I winced as my mother's voice snapped back at the older woman. "She-"
"Was too ill to move last night and that very well could have made things worse," My grandmother's words were final. Rather, they were supposed to be. Where my mother got the courage to speak out against her I'll never know.
"Well, it didn't. You saw her yourself this morning. She's better now and it's thanks to me. Putting her in that beautiful bedroom made her feel safe," My mother's pompous voice and hubris had reduced Mito Obaa-sama to an enraged stutter. "You see!" she claimed, no doubt pointing a finger at her, the other hand on her hip with a spatula, wooden spoon or cooking chopsticks in hand. "Even you cannot argue, Mito. I made my baby feel better, not you!"
"You arrogant woman," I knew my grandmother had shaken her head at the blond woman before she continued to speak. "I gave her medicine last night. A special Uzumaki herbal blend that has not failed yet lest the illness be too far along that only a miracle could save the damned. Though it will normally take a few days to- I'm not finished yet!" My grandmother's voice was like a whip, stopping my mother's comeback prematurely, though her voice has not raised a decibel. "It was most likely her pure stubbornness that has her up, moving and well so soon. The human mind is a powerful thing, Inohana, you of all people should know that."
The sound of a teacup being slammed on the hard wood table split the air like a cracking whip. Though I had not seen it I knew my mother had done it out of sheer spite. I could just envision my grandmother as she adroitly placed her chopsticks on the table with a firm and dominating tap-! before she gingerly grasped the teacup. A small ghost of a smile would sit itself conceitedly as she raised the cup to her lips and inhaled deeply through the nose to get a whiff of her precious peppermint tea. Just before she took a sip I could have sworn I heard her mutter, "It was certainly not that horrendous pink room of hers."
The sound of shattering porcelain filled the air just as the slamming cup had just a moment ago. I knew for a fact that my mother had broken a plate or bowl. "Inohana, dear… Was that-?"
"Kyou, just be quiet!" My mother hissed as she interrupted my father.
Silently I slipped back down the hall a small ways and walked right back to the eat-in kitchen. This time I actually went in. Still in my night gown I burst into the room and pranced around barefooted. It was nothing more than a game of pretend to hide the cold hollowness that filled my heart. I skipped over to my mother and hugged her around her middle, my face buried in her starch white apron that crinkled crisply around my cheek.
"Someone's excited," My father said with a grin, his eyes not matching his dreary Chakra signature. I still did not understand how or why and I doubt I ever shall.
"Why would she not be, Kyou? It's the day she becomes a Kunoichi," Tobirama Oji-san grinned as he reached behind him to ruffle my hair. I pouted as childlike as I could muster and stuck out my tongue at the albino man. "Well, if you are going to be like that then I suppose I can postpone things for… Oh, a week or two?" His deep chuckle filled the air as I pulled a horrified expression and uttered a weak, devastated cry.
"Stop teasing the poor child," my grandmother chastised as she smacked his hand with her beloved chopsticks. The younger elder pulled his hand away whimpering about how his brother had married a dictator. "Tsunade, you really might want to consider eating on the way there. You are not even dressed yet, child! Though, I suppose it cannot be helped, being as keyed up as you are… Still up to your room with you or you do not eat at all."
"Yes ma'am!" I said before I sprinted for my room, catching the beginning of yet another argument between the two equally stubborn women. Though I hardly head any of it I knew who would win and it was certainly not going to be my mother.
"Excuse me, Mito?" My mother's voice was dangerous and filled with as much killing intent as any Shinobi despite her civilian status. "She is my daughter not yours! And I-"
"Should respect the lady of the household. You-"
I didn't stop. I kept up the steady and rapid pace, wishing I could go faster in this child's body. My body.
I all but slammed my door shut behind me as I burst into the Kami awful room. My breathing was labored and I had broken into a cold sweat as I paced the spacious quarters. I ran my small hands through my hair, my mind in a frenzy of panicked thought. This is not happening! This is not happening! I am not a child! I am a fifty year old woman! Not proud of it but none the less I am what I am. Or I was what I was? This is so confusing!
Realization crashed around me all at once. I sunk to the floor, my mind numb. I could no longer think. I just sat there, frightened like a small child. I am a child…
I don't know how long I just sat there in a slump of distress until a knock came at door. I did not reply. I could not reply. It would not have been the firm, alto voice that commanded respect and was the very definition of authority that told whoever it was to enter my bedchamber as if it were my office. No, it was my grandfather's office, for now at least, someday that office on the other side of the Hokage Monument would be mine again. The door slid open as if my silence were an invitation.
"So, it hit you early, sapling?" I stiffened at my grandfather's words. I knew what they meant but that was not it. But… How could I tell him? Or was that entire life of pain a dream? No… It was too real, too long and too detailed to be such a thing. I remained silent but he spoke once more. "A Shinobi's duty is a heavy one, Tsunade but I suppose you just realized how heavy a burden that really is. I don't want to say too much right now, most of it comes with time but I know you'll do great. You are destined for greatness, Tsunade. I just know it. It's in your heart, just don't let even the deepest of wounds slow you down. Great power comes at a greater sacrifice."
I turned my head to look at his tall, tan and proud figure that still stood in the doorway. His dark chocolate eyes met my caramel ones, there was a level of understanding shared in that few seconds of eye contact that we never had in my previous life. Was it really a past life? What… Just what was that? Just what is this? Somehow, just like I never understood why my father's Chakra did not match his personality, I don't think I'll ever know.
When had I put my hair into the high pony tail that I wore in yesteryears, I don't know. I do not remember getting dressed in that familiar yet foreign garb. The kimono's fabric was durable; the main color was teal, a purple neckline and a dark blue obi. The skirt cut well above my knees much to my mother's disapproval but the rest of the family paid it no heed. I was about to become a Kunoichi. It was expected. I do not even know if I had wrapped the bandages around my ankles or if someone had done them for me before I slipped on the blue Shinobi sandals for the first time, or at least what felt like the first time. I did not even eat as my grandmother had advised. I just left, though Mom had stopped me halfway down the long dirt path that lead to the main roads to give me a pair of armlets, pink armlets.
I walked to the Academy as if in a trance. Every step I took seemed weighted. Every motion felt puppet like, stiff. The bustling village passed in a blur of color, sound and scent. The crowd parted around me, they gave the Princess of Konohagakure her room to walk toward her destiny. I wanted it. Despite all the pain and anguish that came with it I wanted it. I knew nothing else but being a Kunoichi and I knew I could not be happy being anything but that.
Memories good and bad propelled me in the direction of the Academy. Each step triggered another memory that seemed to burst forth from beneath the sole of my shoe and ripple up my body with a shiver. Three faces, all round with baby fat, sprang forth above all other faces and memories. The bright green, eager and excited eyes of my childhood best friend were the first to appear in a ghostlike image, her mousey brown hair kept short and back with a headband and later her Hitai-ate. The piercing gold that belonged to none other than the traitorous bastard Orochimaru, his long black hair left to hang in his face, as if it created a curtain between him and the rest of the world. Finally, Jiraiya… Of all of them his was the most vivid. Onyx eyes alight with laughter, he goofy and later perverted grin graced his face. His shaggy white hair, softer than snow but stuck out every which way hardly framed his face.
With a few steps a came to a halt. I could see them again. Giggle with Ami at the stupid, stuck up little bitches that teased her for her large forehead and me for practically being a Shinobi princess. I could speak to Orochimaru as a friend, not an enemy who had wanted nothing more than immortality. And Jiraiya… Jiraiya…
Something swelled within me and burst like a water balloon. The energy, the excitement and exhilaration flooded around me. A sudden burst of speed and I was there. I was at the Academy. My eyes rested upon the building, which was not even as old as I was. I was a part of Konoha's first graduating class, a part of history before any of us had made our first kill or even done our first D-ranks.
I can't believe this but I'm looking forward to seeing that baka Jiraiya and creepy Orochimaru. We will be Team Sarutobi again! Or rather we will have been Te- Will you stop trying to make sense of this! You're not going to win!
I took the deepest breath I had ever taken and stepped over the threshold of the Academy, of the first day of the rest of my life. I walked at an average pace through the hallowed halls, graced and blessed with the innocence of childhood. The countless times a handful of us had ditched classes. Running in the halls even after the Senseis had scolded us numerous times not too. They echoed with shrieks of laughter and conversation in the back of my subconscious. Slowly those happy sounds were replaced with shrieks of agony and orders being hollered over the battle cries of war and death... How could such-?
"Tsu? Tsu? Konoha to Tsunade! Tsu!" It was not the repetition of my name that pulled me out of the whirlwind of memories but the snapping of fingers multiple times in my face. Dully I turned to see who it was. It was Ami, bright, cheerful, slightly reckless Ami. She died when she was around forty-five. Don't know anything else or rather I don't remember anything else. Her death had left me devastated though I hid it from the world. I tried my best to forget but like all Shinobi it held to no avail. Every tragedy emerged from the core of despair and gut retching sights, somehow… Someway…
Somehow I had wound up sitting beside her in the large classroom. Dozens of boys and girls my own age filled every seat. Some bounced up and down as if on a sugar high. Others were like ducks, smooth on the surface and paddling like hell underneath. As I looked around I saw many faces that will vanish from Konoha's ranks all too soon. The path of the shinobi… is a dangerous one… but we all know the risks and are willing to except the consequences.
Maybe you can change it this time around. This time around? I don't even know if this is real or a dream, or a Genjutsu! Worth a shot. I have got to stop arguing to myself. You're telling me!
"Hey Tsunade!" Jiraiya's sudden greeting jolted me from my thoughts.
"Baka," I said evenly staring at the boy who sat in the row in front of me. He was turned around in his seat, the chair leaning on only two legs, the backrest supported by the front of my desk.
"Think we'll get put on the same team, Tsunade Hime?" He raised a white eyebrow at me, his goofy grin plastered on his face just as I had remembered it from so many decades ago. I just shrugged in response, though I knew the answer. Yes.
"Do you want to be on the same team?" There was almost a hint of pleading in his voice with seemingly such a simple question. To Ami and anyone else who might have been listening it would have seemed as such but for me it was so much more complex than that. Unsure of what I thought I just said the first thing that sprang forth from my mind, how true the initial response was I do not know.
"I don't care. If we do get stuck on the same team then it gives me more of a chance to kick your butt. And if we don't then I don't have to put up with you!" Even I winced at my own harsh reply, though inwardly not visibly like Jiraiya, Ami and several eavesdroppers' did.
"Sheesh Tsunade you don't have to be like that!" Jiraiya said as he turned around, his seat fell back on all fours just as the class Sensei had walked in.
Yes I do. Rejection makes a man strong as you put it-Will put it- Ohhhhh just give it up! This is too confusing!
I watched the generic Chunin Shunshin to the front of the room; no one so much as batted an eye or even paid him any notice. It had been the same thing every day. Walk in. Shunshin in front of the chalk board. Drone on and on with lessons and lectures while no one so much as lent an ear. Everyone in my Academy year had pretty much all been self-taught. Most of us ditched as often as we could just so we would actually learn something. Those who did not give a crap stayed in the room and slept. He never marked anyone absent or present; he never cared if we played hooky or cut class so long as we turned in our assignments and passed our tests. Which all the ditch-ies had never failed to do, myself included.
We paid him no mind as he droned on as he always did, this time with our team assignments. Many had fallen asleep while others talked and I tried to get my mind to focus on one thing anything but the snow headed boy in front of me but it was not possible. Every thought was of him and all he had done for me before. How he had been there for me through every disaster yet I pushed him away. How I was still pushing him away. Was it love? Honestly I don't know what it was but it was something. Guilt, maybe?
The silence that signaled the Sensei had finally stopped talking it was like an alarm clock had gone off. All the sleepers woke up and talkers shut up. He Shunshined away, as far as I can recollect I never saw him again after that. Rumor was back then that some kid in the class killed him for being such a bad teacher. One brave soul, Jin Jin who was to die at the age of fourteen in the Chunin exams just a few years before the Second Shinobi War broke loose, stepped forward and called out who was with who on what squad number. I tuned him out too, I knew… I knew…
"Sooo, Tsunade pretty cool that we're on the same squad, huh?" Jiraiya said as he turned around to face me once more. My heartbeat quickened at his grin, still I was unsure if it was guilt or something else that caused it to do so when I looked into his eyes.
"I couldn't care less," I replied without emotion, my arms crossed and my heart hardened to ward away the pain that I dare not let leak onto my face or into the depths of my eyes.
"Suuure, Tsunade whatever you say," His grin grew even wider as he got up and left the room, hands behind his head in a leisurely fashion. Jiraiya raised one hand in greeting at Orochimaru and some of the other boys before they filed out of the room in twos, side by side with their male counterpart on their new three-man cells.
It's good to see you again, Jiraiya...
Author's Notes:
Well, I hope the first chapter of the rewrite was good... I have about three quarters of the next chapter rewritten so we will see how things go from here. For those of you who have not read the original "Tsunade's Chance" or the whole series "The Senju Chronicles" if you would like a good idea of what the rest of the story is basically going to be like go ahead to my profile page and click on "The Senju Chronicles" or (obviously) "Tsunade's Chance", I would personally suggest reading "The Senju Chronicles" to avoid the confusion of going 'Uhhh... Which story is next...?' if you decide to progress with the series. I warn you now there will be significant difference between the Recalibrated and the original series, or really it is a rough draft. Also, at some point the font alignment goes from left to center... Yeah... I originally posted all of my chapters Center Align for my stories to stand out but all it is, is a headache so I had begun to fix that, however I eventually got side tracked by rewriting so just bear with it or do the intelligent thing and copy-and-paste it to DUN DUN DUUUUUUUN! Microsoft word and fix the alignment from there. Yeah... I should very well get on that... Buuuuuuuuuuut... I'm a little busy right now...
Furthermore, (okay this is the last two things!) IF YOU HAVE READ ANY FURTHER IN THE ORIGINAL SERIES and would like to suggest changes, things you want to see, what you want more detail on or just plain feel like Grammer Nazi-ing me to death... Knock yourself out! I like hearing suggestions! ^~^ Finally, I will not be posting these as individual books, just as the series collection. Too much work as it is and I don't need that to add to it. And without further ado...
Wal
Fw
P.S. for those of you who have no idea what WAL stands for...
With
Authorly (or Artistic)
Love