Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
The sky over Kusa no Kuni was a pale azure blue, cloudless in the almost unbearably humid heat. Long grasses as tall as a grown man and sparse trees rose on either side of the road, which was packed with cattle-driven carts; it was all Tsunade and Shizune could do to keep from being trampled underfoot.
"Watch it over there!" Tsunade shrieked at one of the drivers, who fired back for all he was worth. Tempers always flared when the heat peaked over 100°, and Tsunade was no exception. Both of the women were soaked with sweat, making their clothes cling and their hair stick to their faces.
"Watch it yourself, you dumb broad!" The man, middle-aged and heavyset, seemed to be risking his life on the assumption that Tsunade, a small woman and, from her accent, obviously a foreigner, couldn't do him much harm if he chose to insult her. He was wrong.
Tsunade's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did you call me?" She didn't give the driver time to respond before she started to close the distance between them, anger radiating out of every step.
Shizune sighed. For once, she was in complete sympathy with Tsunade; the driver deserved whatever he got. But this was neither the time nor the place for such things.
"Keep close to me," she advised the little pig huddling at her feet, rosy flesh shuddering at the commotion. Ton-ton just barely managed not to trip Shizune as she walked in the direction of Tsunade and the unfortunate cart driver.
Tsunade had grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and was in the process of dragging him out of his wagon (other cart drivers had stopped and were laughing at the display) when Shizune reached her mistress. She put a hand on the blonde's shoulder to get her attention.
The teenager's face arranged itself into a slightly nervous smile that Shizune didn't have to feign. "Tsunade-sama… While I sympathize with you, we still have a long way to go, and Kusagakure closes its gates at nightfall; I've heard the mosquitoes get absolutely vicious after dark. Besides—" her nervous smile showed teeth "—there's a possibility he this man might find out who you are and press charges."
Shizune knew that it was probably the latter reason rather than the former that convinced Tsunade to back down; Tsunade had never minded sleeping in the open, even if she did despise mosquitoes with such a passion as to be rendered unholy. Tsunade nodded, abruptly letting go of the man's collar and walking away; the man promptly fell on his face onto the dusty road.
Gripping her coarse black skirt and the hem of her brown traveling cloak, Shizune leaned down by the man, who was clearly stunned by the force of his head hitting the ground and was struggling to sit up. She put her hand under the croak of his elbow. "Here," she said softly. "Let me help you."
He grunted in assent, groaning as he braced himself on the side of his wagon. His joints moved like rusty machinery. He clapped Shizune on the shoulder. "Tell your mother I didn't mean no harm," he muttered, clambering unsteadily back into the driver's seat.
Shizune started. Mother? Then her eyelids fell slightly. "She's not my mother," she murmured, before running down the road after Tsunade.
.
Shizune used to think she knew what Tsunade was running from. She thought it was really quite straightforward, as simple a matter as running from her creditors; Tsunade certainly put a great deal of time and effort into eluding the men and women who called upon her to pay her massive gambling debts. Then, as Shizune grew older, somewhat wiser and was able to see the world around her with a little more clarity, she came to the realization that it wasn't so simple.
In short, Tsunade was trying to outrun her past, and all the memories in it. And, if her near-daily attempts to knock off her liver via imbibing large amounts of sake and other alcoholic beverages were any indication, she was going a very poor job of it. She just kept going around and around in circles, with no set direction or compass, traveling aimlessly.
Shizune wasn't sure where she factored into Tsunade's calculations, if she factored in at all. It was hard to tell whether she was someone who mattered, whether she was another Tsunade was trying to outrun, or if she was simply just there. Shizune tried not to think about it.
The hotel room was on the third floor. It had a bathroom, a tiny kitchen, two windows with a view to the street below and the many tall wood buildings of Kusa—there was no stone available for building materials; lighting fires larger than what would power a lantern was forbidden in the city—and a main room with a television set and two twin beds. Everything was done in light colors the floors left uncarpeted, the bed sheets starched white, the wood of the walls a light color reminiscent of green wood. The walls seemed so thing that Shizune was half-afraid that if she breathed on them too hard they would cave in.
She lied on her back on one of the beds, supporting her head on her elbows. If the bed had been a little shorter, Shizune's long, skinny legs would have been dangling off the end. Her dark yukata and coal black hair stood out starkly in the Spartan whiteness of the room.
Tsunade was in the bathroom, door latched behind her, performing a henge of some sort; she preferred privacy to do so. Small noises emanated from behind the thin wood door, and Shizune did not worry because she knew it was only normal. A small metallic sound, like metal hitting a glass surface, echoed in the room.
When the door cracked open, and Tsunade stepped out of the bathroom with her quick, economic steps, Shizune immediately stood up. When she got a good look at Tsunade, all Shizune could do was raise one eyebrow slightly, working strenuously to shove down her shock.
Tsunade's henge had altered nearly everything about her physical appearance. Her hair was now changed to a dark ebony black, pulled back in a tight knob at the back of her head. Her eyes had a softer, rounder shape to them and were two shades darker than they had been; Tsunade wore glasses that were probably nothing more than two thin pieces of glass. She was considerably smaller in the bust and hip; the purple mark was gone from her unblemished temple. The only thing left unaltered about her was her height; Shizune wondered if Tsunade's intent had been to assume a form that made them look so much alike.
Tsunade confirmed that suspicion. "If anyone asks, I'm your older sister, and the name's Yoriko, got it?" Her voice was still low, throaty, slightly husky; that, along with height, could not be changed with a simple henge.
Shizune nodded. "Yes, ma'am. You'll have to be sure not to drink any alcohol while the henge is up, or—"
She held up a hand. "I know, Shizune. The effects of the alcohol will screw up my chakra control and make the henge dissolve. Trust me, I still remember what happened last time."
Shizune winced. The "incident" Tsunade was referring to had been eight and a half months ago; Tsunade had had one too many cups of sake in a gambling hall, and the henge she had been using had dissolved. Using henge was forbidden in a gambling hall (though Tsunade could suppress her chakra enough to make it impossible for a shinobi to detect her chakra signature), and the two had barely gotten away before the kunai started flying.
Tsunade turned and started to walk towards the door, buttoning the dark brown blazer shut as she did so. "Ready to go?" she called from the front door.
"Hai." Shizune peered down at Ton-ton. "Stay here. We'll only be a few hours."
.
Shizune had learned to tolerate the gambling, to an extent. It was the lesser of two evils; it wouldn't kill Tsunade right away like overindulging in alcohol would. It wouldn't put her in the hospital, and it wouldn't result in her getting mugged and/or raped (That had nearly happened to them a couple of years ago, and the only thing stopping it was that Tsunade hadn't been quite as drunk as their would-be attackers had believed).
There were some times when Tsunade would do something stupid—usually putting their whole savings on the line would be that stupid thing—and Shizune would shout the harebrained idea that had gotten itself into Tsunade's head into oblivion, or try to at least. The only source of money at their disposal that Tsunade had never put on the line even once was the money Shizune's family had left behind; Shizune couldn't help but be a little grateful for that.
She had learned to live with her mistress' gambling habit. She'd still protest at the drinking binges, but she accepted the gambling halls with a grudging consent. They could go without money.
Tsunade greeted herself at the entrance to the hall as Yoriko. As she got further back, she told the bouncer to the back room that she was called Ishida, and finally at the very back room she introduced herself to the dealer as Meiko. Tsunade shed names like she shed faces and years, haphazardly and without a second thought.
They were in one of the back rooms. Tsunade sat on a mat with five others, playing black jack; Shizune stood close behind her mistress. Tsunade's luck was surprisingly ambivalent that night, which, Shizune supposed, was much better than usual; on a normal night, they would have been in the process of being kicked out for having no more money to spend right about now. Shizune could let herself out of a casino perfectly well, thank you, and did not need someone else to do it for her.
A particularly bad hand came Tsunade's way. Shizune was surprised when brown eyes turned back on her. Tsunade looked uncertain. For all her brashness and over-confidence, there were times when even Tsunade felt hesitant, when even Tsunade wasn't sure of what she should do.
Shizune quickly sized up the game. Tsunade was at fifteen, a high number but not a number instantly guaranteed to result in a bust. She had put down chips equivalent to two hundred thousand ryo; Shizune tried not to grimace at the situation. If Tsunade pulled out now, she wouldn't lose anything. If she won, she could over double her earnings, but if she lost, she would lose the two hundred thousand ryo and with it a large chunk of the savings they possessed. For a moment, Shizune wished she was more firm on her anti-gambling stance.
She bit her lip. Ah, well. Nothing risked, nothing gained. Shizune nodded to her mistress, managing a small, encouraging smile.
Tsunade's lip twisted. She turned back to the dealer. "Hit me."
The dealer nodded, and handed her a card. Tsunade turned it over. It was a six.
The dealer, a swarthy-skinned, dark-haired man, smiled ruefully at her. "Congratulations, Meiko-san." He leaned over and handed her the chips she was due.
Tsunade nodded, and stood up, gathering the chips in her arms. "Well, gentlemen, I think I'm going to quit while I'm ahead. Come on, Shizune."
"Yes, Meiko-oneesan."
.
The night ended up in a bar; Shizune had been dreading that, knowing it was a familiar end to a day when Tsunade's luck looked up a little more than usual.
They had stopped at the hotel only long enough for Tsunade to drop the henge and change out of the prudish, almost dowdy clothes she had worn to the hall in order to not be recognized by anyone she might have been in debt to.
Shizune half-considered staying home. The seedy bars of any city always made her distinctly nervous, and watching Tsunade dissolve into public drunkenness was always a horrible sight to see. Tsunade might have been able to drink half the continent under the table (only if she had the money on hand to pay for the amount of alcohol required to do that, and she never did), but when she got drunk, she got drunk.
But staying alone at night was even worse. Shizune never knew what was happening to Tsunade at whatever bar she was at, and all she could do was sit home and wait, long after night was putting darkness and shadows on the walls and the only sounds were the sounds of a city after dark and the beating of Shizune's own heart.
And worst of all were the nights when Tsunade didn't come home at all. Even as a child, Shizune had known without knowing where Tsunade was, even if the significance of it didn't come until years later. It served as a storyboard for Shizune, showing how there were some who would give up anything, their honesty, their safety, and even their self-respect to outdistance trouble, and as much as Shizune tried to tell herself that a kunoichi was not a common prostitute, she had to admit that most knew full well how to pleasure a man into forgetfulness, and she was nearly alone amongst those who had not been taught.
So Shizune did not stay home when Tsunade went out to find the latest amnesiac anymore; she dared not risk it.
The bar was small and dank, the smell of grass-distilled spirits radiating from it as it did from every bar and restaurant in Kusagakure. The sky was a sweet myriad of pale rose pink and darker lavender as they went in, and Shizune cast one last glance at the sky, knowing it would be different when she saw it again.
Shizune crept by, making herself as small as she possibly could, knowing that as a sixteen-year-old she wasn't technically legally allowed in the bar; the drinking age in Kusa no Kuni was eighteen. No one would notice her though; no one ever did, and Shizune was somewhat grateful for it. She was nothing but a shadow when she stood by Tsunade, and that was how she liked it.
The girl felt eyes prickling, though on the woman next to her, not herself. She paid a great deal of attention to the way the bartender prepared Tsunade's drinks, and surreptitiously sniffed them before they went to Tsunade; no smell, all seemed normal. A bartender wasn't usually qualified in mixing a foreign agent that didn't give off some sort of smell or discolor the beverage they were inserting it into in any way, and Shizune liked to think she would have noticed either one.
As Tsunade went on, Shizune interjected with each new glass. "Another one?" "I don't think we have the money for all of these drinks." "Tsunade-sama, this really isn't good for you."
Shizune's brow drew up in concern, and Tsunade either didn't listen or was too far gone in drink to hear.
.
After the fifteenth glass, inexplicably, or maybe not, Tsunade started crying.
Shizune noticed it from the start, from the first tear to the torrent, pouring down a flawless face that soon became scarlet at the cheeks and bloody at the eyes.
Shizune used to delude herself into thinking that she didn't know why Tsunade was crying, but she had dropped the delusion soon, because she had always known what was wrong, and what was driving Tsunade into despair and darkness.
There were ghosts, Shizune knew, ghosts she barely dared acknowledge. They existed only on the edge of her world, but dominated every waking moment of Tsunade's. And somehow, Shizune knew their faces, their business with Tsunade, and that they would never leave.
Eventually, the bartender noticed. He looked at Shizune with a world-weary expression on his face. "Little girl, if your mother's going to fall to pieces, then at least take her home."
At this point, Shizune didn't bother to tell him that Tsunade wasn't her mother. Shizune started to tense; she felt eyes on her now, and they were unfriendly. "At least let me calm her down first," Shizune pleaded softly, putting a hand on Tsunade's shaking shoulder.
The bartender frowned and shook his head, face darkening. "No can do, miss."
In the end, they were bodily flung out the front door, stumbling to the ground of the hard-packed dirt road.
"Take the blubbering blonde and get out!" the bouncer roared after them, slamming the door.
"Go to hell!" Shizune cried after him, flaring with anger. The bouncer didn't fire back, and Shizune sighed, remembering herself as her temper cooled.
The sky should have been black, but as it was it was a tarnished indigo, tarnished the way silver jewelry was after so many long years of existence. In the harsh, blinding streetlights, Shizune couldn't make out any stars. She wished she could.
A small, choking sob drew her attention back to Tsunade. The woman clung to the ground, long blonde pigtails hanging over each shoulder. Shizune gently rubbed her back as she threw up in the middle of the street, coughing and spluttering; a moment later, Shizune grabbed at Tsunade's hair as she retched again, her shoulders convulsing.
"Better?" Shizune whispered, glaring at the people who stopped and stared at them like they were circus beasts on display. Tsunade wasn't an object to be made a spectacle, and almost instinctively she shielded her in a way that wasn't shielding, her shadow self swallowing up Tsunade to the point of making her invisible.
Tsunade wiped at her mouth, nodding shakily. She stood up, stumbling and leaning heavily on Shizune's shoulder. "Yes." Her voice was ragged and so hoarse as to barely be audible; bile and spittle still dribbled from the corners of her mouth.
They started to make their slow, painful walk back to the hotel. Shizune gripped Tsunade's arm tightly, keeping her upright. Tsunade's head was bowed, leaning into the younger woman's shoulder wearily.
Strangely, it was moments like this that made Shizune feel valued, even when she was upset, tired, and worried.. Tsunade needed her, and that was enough.