"Demons do not cry. You became a demon, because you couldn't cry anymore could you not? Humans cry and when their tears finally run dry, there's nothing left, but a demon or a monster and one final prayer for death. So, laugh demon. Laugh that arrogant laugh of yours and remember I beat you to it."- Alexander Anderson
Albeit the Court surrounded her, and people of histrionical nobility stood strictly by her sides, at first perception she seemed as if to stood alone. Carefully he watched her from not so far of a distance, as if wishing to stand by her side, to console her, to perhaps even explain the unbelievable circumstances, which had set in motion the horrible actions of a probable, impending treachery.
Her small, bare, and silvery feet forced within undesired leather sandals gleamed in the black mirror of marble beneath her. Her hair, not as yet more than half loosened for the night from its slumberous arrayal, leisurely clustered, amidst a shower of diamonds, round and round her classical head, in curls like those of the young hyacinth. A snowy-white and gauze-like drapery was the covering to her face, and her body seemed to be divested from all that heavy folds of royal garments. Her delicate form was tenderly wrapped in single layer of silk; but the mid-summer and morning air was hot, sullen, and still, and no motion in the statue-like form itself stirred even the folds of that raiment of very vapor which hung around it.
However, strange thing as it may be, her large, lustrous hazel eyes were not turned downwards upon that coffin wherein her father lay buried, but riveted in a widely different direction! Those pair of eyes, those pair of crystals, brighter than the sun itself gazed into his own stark visage and rapidly shattered the remains of thoughts from his mind. There was nothing he could do, for the samurai was consumed in remorse upon realizing the fatal mistake he has committed. There was nothing he could do, for the single glance from the young woman of blue blood awakened thoughts and images his mind should have most certainly not bred.
With an agonizing sensation plastering across his heart, rapid he was as he looked away to further inspect his surroundings. A few steps away from her stood, in full, noble habiliments the satyr-like figure of the General himself. He was occasionally occupied in observing the throng, and seemed blasé to the very death, as at certain intervals he consulted his watch in hope for the upcoming end of the ceremony.
The king, not any less motionless than expressionless, stared at the sarcophagus made of the finest artisanship. His eyes wherein once the bright lights of life nested were now leaden-hued, tinted in lifeless shades of dull grey and were filled with visible tears. He kept looking fixedly upon the box that separated him from his brother for eternity, his lusterless character trembling at the quiet mutterings of the priest.
The samurai shrank involuntarily from his glassy stare, since the peculiar meaning behind the royal's pain was of a cruel truth.
The majestic clangor of the town-clock disturbed him from serene contemplation and at last, he patiently observed as the tumult slowly began to subside. With the people slowly parting, the lights slowly began to die away within the palace, lanterns' flames killed as the sun gained more territory over the vaults of heavens. Yet, it seemed as if a stark and suffocating darkness has descended upon those who remained, this invisible shadow taking advantage especially upon the king's frail spirit.
If one could have only warned those around him, about the impending doom he was fated to bear, perhaps it might had been better to let him perish right now and join his brother in peace.
Hashirama could not give orders in that moment, thus it was the General's task to inform the warriors of the palace about the noble commands. Kakashi well knew he was required as well to participate in the assembling, for he belonged with the samurai who once have sworn to serve the King until life bid them farewell.
There was nothing more what the young heart coveted so painfully, than to follow the subject of his flaming spirit until the doors of her chamber, even if it was simply with the eyes, and so if only he could bring himself to speak, for words were indeed paramount to clear up the clouds of the soul-tormenting misery. Shaking off from his mind the speculations of lovely matters, his feet thought further not, and carried him into the Hall of Discussion. Twenty or so of the warriors knelt down and bowed politely in unison upon General Madara's presence.
The Lord stood in front of the Dragon Throne with arms wide open as he bathed his deep dark spirit within the loud hail of the room. Notwithstanding his profoundly rooted cruelty, there were perhaps only one or two warriors able to match his skills in swordsmanship. Thus many regarded him in the shadow of savage artistic jealousy, wishing to kill him by their own hands, such dream never to become true, of course.
He dwelt in the unbroken harmony of the exaltations, and at last, and with great reluctance, his hands beckoned to the men to cease their voices so he shall speak. "At such a misfortunate event we had to gather, my dear samurai." He began, for he already felt as if the army belonged to him completely. "Your King wants you to leave your previous tasks behind and remain among the walls of the palace until the mystery is resolved."
Sly he was, oh ever so sly indeed. For instructions were clear when given, the Lord as he spoke, made certain modifications about the matter, omitting information rather significant, in order to cover his tracks, and of course those of the guilty samurai. "There is nothing to discuss any further, all you have to do is stay here and guard the palace. Oh, by the way, those five of you, in the back, you must return to the village and do the same there." As he uttered those words at last, once more, he mused in the sight in front of him; soon he would indeed give orders as not the messenger but as the king.
Meanwhile...
Time wore along and the morning closed in upon the King and then the darkness came as he hurried past the main corridor, wishing to seclude himself from all that lived and spoke, as he could bear not to look into those questioning eyes, or to even go at such length as to form words and further them into meaningful sounds.
The morning tarried, and the mists of an evil night were now falling behind with lazy steps upon the vast sky of heavens. After throwing the bedroom's doors open, he simply sat motionless in that solitary chamber for hours unknown and still he sat buried in meditation, when the phantasm of an unknown conspirator maintained its terrible ascendancy within his mind. It gained such power as, with the most vivid hideous distinctness, he could swear he saw a head, which was to be drawn out from a circle of thick black mist, and it floated about amidst the changing lights and shadows of the chamber. At length there broke in upon his conscious dreams a cry as of horror and dismay; and thereunto, after a pause, succeeded the sound of troubled voices, intermingled with many low moanings of sorrow and of pain. He arose from his seat when someone threw open one of the doors of the chamber.
"Hashirama." Madara spoke as he stepped in, the pitiful sight of the King true joy to his heart. He did not ask upon the matter of his cries, for he was not quite interested in the reason of the terror upon his ghastly visage.
"Come," Hashirama said, abruptly as he wished to annihilate the dreadful vision he has just seen. "Let us drink! It is early… but let us drink. It is indeed early…" Therefore, the King continued musingly, and as an angel with a heavy golden hammer made the residence ring with the first few hours after sunrise.
The numbing effect of sake was calling his mind to shallow trickery as he felt its power necessitated in that very moment. "It is indeed early, but what matters it? Let us drink!" He resumed in speaking, while Madara insisted not, nor he wished to talk some sense into his friend who was rapidly becoming consumed by remorse and by the horror of mortality. His hands reached for the finely made bottle and poured out the essence of all dazing visions. Before Madara could have accepted the filled bumper handed to him, the King has already swallowed in rapid succession several goblets of the sake. "Now tell me, was everything all right?"
"Yes, Hashirama." The raven-crowned conspirator spoke in demure calmness sounding within his tone. "Albeit, there was one thing… That samurai you hold so dear to your heart, he and his group wished to remain within the village and keep it safe."
"Kakashi, you say?" Hashirama speculated long upon the subject,as the more drops of alcohol lingered down his throat, the harder it became to remain upon the path of consciousness. "How nice of him to say that! Let it be, then, let him and the other four stay there. We possess enough guards, anyway."
Lord Madara bowed in acknowledgement while ran over in thought the perfect keeping of his character. Leisurely he uplifted his eyes as he seated himself upon the comfortable sofa he would definitely keep, once he inherited this chamber. At full length he lay and held the glass of the finest liquid witchcraft in his hand. "Yes, I thought so as well." He began, whilst his eyes canvassed minutely the place. Little time he spent here, since most of their conversations took place within the Hall of Discussion or in the Library.
Albeit the King believed they were friends, he still restrained the warm discussions in other places. The very meaning of the General being there, undisturbed, was but one of the first signs of Hashirama's weakening mind. How peculiar the road to paranoia was, Madara mused quietly before he added. "I personally believe the traitor is in the Court, and closer to you than you might assume."
"You do think that?" Hashirama took a seat at last, when the first strokes of alcohol began to massage his brain to numbness.
Madara nodded in the positive. "You should have most of the samurai around the heiress, to make sure she will not be harmed."
"You words are wise as always, my friend." Such an insightful person he was, the King smiled to himself as he spoke. "Perhaps there should be more to be done…" Thoughts were brought to life with difficulty the more time elapsed above his head. Hashirama's tongue licked carefully the last drop of sake from the bottle and with a satisfied sigh, he fell back upon the chair. "Perhaps I should go see my troops and seek answers from them. They must know something… At least if it is a woman or a man we hunt."
"What would please your enemies more than to see you abandon your quarters? You must remain still and reserved, as long as you can, and behave as if danger never approached the Court. That way, the conspirator will not know if you are planning anything or not."
"Indeed." He nodded to the General's advice. "Yes, yes. I must pretend!" His large eyes gleamed rather than shined, for the effect of the divine ambrosia on his frantic brain was not more powerful than it was instantaneous. He placed the empty bottle nervously upon the table in human reach, and looked upon his company with a half-insane stare. He then raved for upwards of fifteen minutes during which the General remained still as a grave.
Madara hid his highly amused state and instead he cleared his throat for further revelations about his beliefs. "You should always think about this, my friend. The danger that lurks in every corner, the unknown and the unseen, this pariah with the utmost strategy to ruin your kingdom."
The King grew purple with rage and gave sign to his fury as he smashed the oaken surface of the table with his fist. "I will not hear more of it! Whoever this person may be, it won't stand a chance against us! As long as we have you, my true friend, I know it will be all right. I know my dear brother would have said the same. Tsunade's safety is paramount, and I can easily take care of myself."
"You could not have said it better." The tyrant smiled as he regarded him for some moments in evident wonder at his naivety. Before he could have uttered any more syllables, there was a knock upon the door.
"Would Your Majesty have lunch?" The servant called through the door while awaiting for an answer. As established in royal traditions, it was a customary rule to ask for permission first, despite the severity of the matter.
"Yes. Bring it in." Hashirama replied as he struggled a great deal to remain in his proper posture. He did not wish to be ridiculed, for the drunken state he was in by those amongst whom a traitor hid.
Upon the tray was all that could be considered the glorious art of cuisine. Red bean porridge was carefully placed within the center, surrounded by smaller plates of enticing meals. There was no more pleasant view for the hungry eyes than this magical tray of divine nourishment. Hashirama's dark eyes fell upon the portions, and happily he pondered where to start. He decided beside the porridge and took the silver spoon in his hand. Madara observed his every move, as the King with paradox nonchalance fidgeted with the cutlery for a few moments.
The servants knelt upon the ground to bow deeply in front of him. They would remain motionless and patiently wait until the King finished eating, which usually did not take so the first elevation of the spoon he had seemed satisfied with a momentary inspection of the dish, and was withdrawing the instrument when, as if he was struck by a second thought, he resumed and descended it into the plate.
"Is everything all right, Hashirama?" The General asked as the King's hesitation attracted his general observation. Perhaps he was also a little curious about the indefinite action of the other as he continued to watch him unremittingly.
"Look at this." The Senju lord spoke with growing agitation of his spirit. He grew immeasurably alarmed and threw himself passionately back in the chair while the spoon trembled in his hand, its edge darkened by an unknown reason. "Look at this! I command you to look at it!" And he did command the taster to look upon the object of his fury. "Who made this food?" His voice rang like the bells of Hell, shaking the innocents to the very core.
"It must be poison!" Madara rose from the sofa and furthered the growing paranoia within his friend's brain. He insisted tirelessly upon the singular accusation, only to cloud Hashirama's judgment, which he completed successfully.
The Royal Physician was summoned, who took the darkened spoon with him for further inspection. The servants spoke in hushed and uneasy voices as hurriedly they raced to flee from the room, within which the King and General remained.
Invisible voices of insanity rang exultantly in his mind as he sought desperately for peace within. The strong drink from before still had its power over him, of which Madara knew well.
"You should lie down, Hashirama. I believe you are under too much pressure. Perhaps if I could be any help of you…"
"If only you could just take my damn place." The King obviously joked, yet hit the right spot in Madara's wicked soul. "But you are not a Senju. What a pity, really." He sighed as fatigue overwhelmed him at last. Before he could have uttered any more words, quietly he passed out in the chair.
After several hours...
"Should I… Perhaps…Maybe not…But…" Jiraiya sighed as the day rapidly advanced and sunset approached the world. Having been standing in front of the Library's door for twenty minutes now, he struggled with making decision. Should he seek out her company and talk about what have happened since last night when she returned?It might have not been the best idea after all, to tell her everything the King had previously confessed to him, thinking it was Tsunade under the sheets. Albeit it seemed she knew, she may have known more than he did. It was truly hard to tell.
Also today, during the funeral, he spotted that damn samurai. He did not half fancy the way he looked at her beloved, yet she did not give any sign of discomfort upon that matter. The young man drew a deep, heavy sigh from his throat and at last forced himself through the entrance.
Tsunade busied her mind in scrolls and tireless she was in absorbing all the information offered by the old parchments. Ever since the end of the ceremony, she has resided there, as if to seek out something imperative to her. What was it? She did not share it with him, something that never once happened before. Would she pledge her soul to the utmost kind of secrecy and distance herself from not only her only living relative but from him too?
"Hey, Tsunade…" He called her name as he approached the heiress with each step taken in minute caution.
"Hm?" That was all she said as eager she was to grab another scroll and tear it open. She sat back upon the ground, and resumed to reading.
"I was wondering if everything was all right…" He was well aware of the absurdity of his question, yet words were hard to find in that moment. There was nothing else he wished more than to hold her and console her for as long as she needed, while evidently she not once considered that offer.
"I am fine." At last she ventured to reply. Her stare was cold and pained, while words rolled on her tongue in fiery fashion. She was upset, oh how gravely she was. "What do you want? I am busy."
"I came here to talk. I guessed you needed someone you can trust." He shrugged as he stopped in front of her. Before he could have sat down, she rose from the ground, her fingers crumpling the royal documents without noticing so.
"If you weren't the priest's son, I would seriously question your reliability." Honest she was as she spoke.
"I am only adopted." Jiraiya shrugged, wishing to cheer her somehow, yet it seemed humor was not on his side at the moment. "You should talk to the King, and ask him yourself."
"Kakashi-sama told me the same... About Tobirama…" The heiress sighed before she resumed. "I found the official diary of the Court. And I stole my father's before the funeral. Everything is true. I just can't begin to understand, why couldn't they tell me."
"People don't really tell their kids they are from a one night stand,…I mean, you know, they want to call you on sweet names, so you will feel they actually wanted to have you."
She slipped her free hand into her pocket and opened the small collection of sentimentalism. "I do not know how to feel. My...Well, my father's diary says he loved my mother but he knew Hashirama loved her too, so he never wanted to do anything on purpose to hurt him. I was by no means wanted. My mother wanted to get rid of me. There is a passage here, check this." She sighed deeply as she lifted the open book, her spirit burdened with profound disappointment.
I could not believe my ears yet she repeated her desperate cry over and over until they burnt within my soul. I brought myself to ask her, in spite of the suffocating feeling that consumed me. I asked her, 'Why would you do something so horrific? Do you despise me that much?' As my heart predicted, her reply was no comfort to my agitated soul. 'It is not you I despise. It is me and my sin.'
"I would always want you." Jiraiya complimented after reading the small piece of the past, but his words were met deaf ears.
Tsunade ignored him, albeit unintentedly, as she kept crumpling the old scroll. "You said that Hashirama told you when he thought you were me last night, that my mother died after I was born."
"Yes, that is what he said to me." Jiraiya nodded in the declarative.
"There is more." She stepped closer to him, her scent spoiling his lungs in the instant as he quickly inhaled it. If only she would be just a little more close, oh how grateful he would be. Shaking off his spirit the luscious desires of his young, flaming heart, he forced his gaze upon the pages of the diary once more, which she has already presented in front of him, and she threw away the unnecessary parchment of political content.
"My father wrote that she died the night of the end of the War of Creation. I was two years old by then. Hashirama began gambling after he lost her, which was fifteen years ago, exactly when the war ended. This is right here, penned down!"
"What if Tobirama-sama was lying?"
"Why would someone lie in their own private diary?" Upon her forehead, tender wrinkles of confusion rushed across as she speculated about the sense in his question, for her it did not make much of it.
"For people like you who steal them?" Jiraiya shrugged as he rapidly averted his eyes before he blushed at the sight of her beautiful face.
"Or Hashirama is still hiding something. Perhaps he killed her!"
"That is nonsense, Tsunade. It has to be something else. Did you find anything useful besides this?"
"Just a lot of ramblings about the war, and the Three Great Swords. And about your dad, that he suddenly vanished for a day. Do you know anything about this?"
"No, he never talks about these things. Only of gods and how much he dislikes my mom's gossip." He sighed.
The sound of approaching footsteps alarmed them, especially the heiress who rapidly kicked the scrolls away and handed the diary to Jiraiya. Against all odds and his bewilderment, he hid the object behind his back as the two beheld the sight of the King and the General. Polite the two were as they bowed lightly and with gazes curious and souls heated, they awaited for the elders to speak.
"May we speak with you, Tsunade?" Hashirama asked and Jiraiya understood his request.
In a swift motion, he fled from the Library, leaving the young woman alone with them. He predicted no positive outcome of the encounter, since he knew her and her spirited character more than anyone at the Court.
"It is about the wedding. We have decided on holding it sooner. In a week."
Her astonishment was greater than the walls of China. At first, she did not react nor give sign to her puzzlement. In fact, she forced herself to restrain herself from any passionate expression and so, in a tone cold as marble, she brought herself to answer. "I am not going to marry him." She was firm and decided.
"How dare you say that?" Hashirama exclaimed in sheer disbelief. He was beyond convinced his actions were for the protection of his land and of his people. There was nobody else in whom he trusted more than he did in Madara, such peculiarity that made him believe he was making the best decision.
"You are not my father. You are a liar, and I despise liars more than I despise painful honesty." She left no time for him to react, and before he could have ventured to stop her, she was gone. Tsunade was not going to waste any more time to argue about such nuisance; her life was slowly turning upside down and she had but the slightest idea how to hold onto her sanity. She knew nothing, in the simplest meaning of the word. She was completely lost in this world. She had to get out, she must get out of it, somehow. Upon that thought, she knew where she had to go.
"Don't go after her." Madara placed his hand upon Hashirama's shoulder. "She will probably sulk in her room. If you wish, I shall later discuss this with her, privately."
"Thank you, my friend…" Reluctance rose in his voice but he knew he lacked choices. With a surrender of his will he nodded, watching the child he raised ran away from his sight. "I will retire to my chambers as well…I should have waited with this…I am not yet completely sober."
"You should do that, indeed. We will speak in the morning." Madara offered a candid smile, in which honesty there was none.
Hashirama left at last, while the General patiently waited in front of the the entrance of the Library, his gaze turned towards the illimitable sky.
It might have been at six o'clock, when he faced a great portion of the earth's visible area involved in thick shadow, which continued to advance with great rapidity. His smile grew into a macabre grin the longer he fixated his eyes at the landscape.
"You will drain yourself if you keep doing that." Orochimaru commented as he showed up after a few minutes, his presence barely ever perceptible when one was lost in contemplation.
"I know. I can feel my power weaken. I need to feed, soon. I miss her taste. " The raven-crowned lord nodded in assent and resumed to speaking. "Hashirama is seeing things, and he cherishes my words as if they were flowing honey. I need to maintain his visions, more than ever."
"You gained the most advantageous genjutsu, if I may say that. You are dauntless, sagacious and handsome, my lord." The evil serpent advisor grinned in gruesome fashion as he complimented.
"I know, Orochimaru. My powers too are faultless. I have every right to rule." As he uttered those pompous syllables, he blinked and his eyes brightened into the shades of crimson red.
Little time passed when the whole surface in view was enveloped in the darkness of night. It was short after this time that the rays of the setting sun ceased to illumine. The night was dark, there was not a star to be seen and a drizzling rain, falling at intervals, rendered the kingdom very uncomfortable.
At night...
Her senses were instantly oppressed by mingled and conflicting perfumes, reeking up from strange convolute censers, together with multitudinous flaring and flickering tongues of emerald and violet fire that emanated from the lanterns, which guided her way through the main corridor of Ichiraku's courtesan house. Quietly she cursed as she gracefully made haste through the long hallway, and headed to the kitchen-like chamber, within which she was given food the other day.
She did not know what to say or if words were supposed to be said at all; upon second thought she grew unsure whether she was even supposed to escape from the palace and came straight here. She trembled at the thought of what might happen if she gave in to her pain, but before she could have slipped out unseen, it was too late. Unaware she was how fast her feet carried her to the chamber, so terribly unaware that it was the samurai's voice that shook her back to reality. For a brief moment, there was silence as they stared at each other. None of them knew the right words to say, for none of them anticipated such odd turn of events. They were not supposed to meet. Problems were too many and it was unnecessary for them to bring new ones upon themselves.
She bit upon her lower lip before she forced herself to speak. She needed answers, and she needed them from him, for it seemed he would speak them without hesitation. Her sweet voice trembled at each syllabification, her hands in fists as she struggled hard to hold her tongue and refrain her actions to the minimum. "Why did you do it?"
"I was given orders. They were clear. A scroll received, with the signature of the King." To her questioning gaze he replied with a calm and reserved posture. His deep husky voice remained cold and short, to the point. He knew each and every word was painful, and shook her very spirit yet there was nothing to be done. To his perception, she did not even change her royal garments to poor ones, little details as foretelling how miserable she must have been to come here.
"Hashirama would have never given orders like that!" Tsunade exclaimed with agony rising in her voice. She was furious but not because of him. It was herself she could not stand for being so ignorant about life that kept rushing above her head. She knew nothing, she knew nothing!
"I know that by now…" Kakashi nodded in acknowledgment as he descended his gaze for a short intervallum of time. His remorse was evident in every pore of his being.
"Were you paid for this?" She stepped closer with her eyes eager to catch the slightest glimpse of truth within his faultless visage.
"I was." Albeit it was so short, it hurt even more as the two words reverberated in her ears.
"And you took it? You took it, why?!" Furious the young woman grew, such bold courage she was driven that upon the first strike of anger her slim fingers grabbed at the edge of his shirt, pulling him almost against her. She could feel his breath and most certainly, he too noticed the warm breeze that tickled his neck.
"For the schooling of my son I did not hesitate upon taking it." He spat his answer on a single tone of icy coldness while his deep inky eyes sunk into hers. Whilst waiting for answer or a probable punch into his face, he thus feasted his eyes, and he perceived, at last, to his great trepidation, by an almost imperceptible start on the part of her, that she had become suddenly aware of both the intensity and the nature of his gaze.
Still, he was absolutely fascinated, and could not withdraw it, even for an instant. She turned aside her face while she did not release him from her upset grip, and again he saw only the chiseled contour of the half portion of the face. After some minutes, as if urged by curiosity to see if he was still looking, she gradually brought her face again around and again encountered his burning gaze. Her large hazel eyes fell instantly, and a deep blush mantled her cheeks as she stepped away from him. Instead of fury and pain, she caught herself agitated by the look upon his face, by the way he observed her, with no fear but keen attention.
If there was not a sudden presence breaking the mildly heated atmosphere of the kitchen, he would have not stopped until he kissed her. Little it took, merely a second or so that separated him from his deepest desire, when a familiar voice extinguished the burning flames of his spirit.
"I am so glad to find you here!" Rin exclaimed as she stopped at the door, the tousled locks upon her forehead suggesting she ran here, abandoning the warmth of the home and their child. "Shuya fell from the tree and he has been crying ever since, I think something might have happened!" She exclaimed and her features altered in profound worry. "We need a doctor!"
"Perhaps I can help." Tsunade turned, her cheeks still flushed, her heart beating in a speed she has never once experienced before. She did not think nor cared about the details; it felt natural to have a strong longing for helping people. "I am the Royal Physician." That would explain the splendor of her habiliments, she wondered.
"Could you? Would you please take a look at our son? We will pay you!" Rin bowed deeply in front of her, such a sight making the heiress more than uncomfortable. In that instant she knelt down and politely gestured her to rise back upon her feet. There was simply no need for this kind of courtesy outside of the palace, she was human as well, not an alien.
"Actually, the King has a new rule." Tsunade added and sinking both of her hands into her pockets she handed Kakashi few royal coins that were worth ten times more than those he would receive after completed missions. "You must accept it. And now show me the way."
She did not know why she felt so drawn to this man she barely knew, why would hatred and disgust be so easily extinguished from her soul with a single glimpse from him, why did he awake sensations she has never once felt before? What is more, she was profoundly perplexed at the single idea of being any near to his wife. He was married, he had a family. She barely knew him. He knew more of her than she did about herself, and that she could not deny no matter how much she wished to. Also, he was honest, and honesty appeared to be a luxury these days. Whenever they spoke, she would feel he understood her. Oh just how complicated this was! Why could she not just stop thinking of him? He was too close, indeed he was.
She stepped away as they ran, yet soon she caught up anyway. There was nothing to do. She could not stop stealing glances and that was least of her problem; he was looking back at her. Damn, that man!
Rin threw the doors open and the heiress rushed after her upon arriving at the small house. "Thank you, Iruka…" The young woman reserved her voice as she chained her true feelings into her bosom, in order to show no sign of dubiousness.
Tsunade sat beside the young boy who looked exactly like his father, there was no way he could ever deny that. She smiled at the thought, finding such connection more than heart-warming. "Could you please show me where it hurts?" Kind she was as she asked, and remained patient for the child to open up to her.
Shuya nodded timidly and lifted the layers of bandage from his knee; bruises painted the canvas of his body from which rich drops of scarlet blood were still gushing languidly.
Iruka left, as he wished not to disturb any of them, also he knew well the time he has spent in this house was beyond appropriate. The young mother buried her face into her husband's chest, who watched the royal in comforting stillness.
Tsunade placed her palms upon the wounded parts and with eyes closed her focus grew strict and at last warm green aura of chakra renewed the child's broken limbs. His febrile visage changed and his eyes beamed in vividness of his young spirit.
Rin could now receive her son, and she pressed him to her heart, and clang to its little form, to smother it with her caresses. Tears gathered in those eyes, but this time they were the origin of joy and not of fear. The entire woman thrilled throughout the soul and her gratitude could not be put in words.
"I will go, now…" Tsunade rose from the ground, when a sudden wave of vertigo welcomed her consciousness. She slowed down in motions and cautiously she slipped out of the house, wishing to remain unnoticed; there was no need to break the relief of the family, for the sight of them happy for each other could not have been more heart-warming. With little deep breaths she managed to reach the gates after the garden, merely a few steps away from the street when she felt a sudden sensation overwhelm her. It was not the beginning of ordinary swooning nor some kind of hunger or thirst bursting to her consciousness; once more flushed red upon the cheeks whilst she turned her slim figure, merely to face him. "Go back, Kakashi-sama…" She bowed for she requested such thing ever so boldly.
"I wanted to give you back the money you-…"
"Keep it. I insist. I have no idea of the struggles you have every day. I don't know anything of your pain. I don't know what burden it means to be a samurai either. You are the only one who never lied to me, albeit you had every reason to, notwithstanding the fact I did, to you. I wish…I wish I knew about my father sooner. We never bonded, in all fairness I barely knew him. I don't know how I feel. I just know that I need to…I need to learn a lot about life. And I want to fight better so I can protect myself. Please Kakashi-sama, please keep letting me come to train."
"Of course." He nodded in assent. "Also, let me give this to you. Shuya hurried, but he wanted to thank you…" The grey-crowned warrior spoke quietly as he handed her a piece of paper upon which reckless lines of drawing lay. "He said it is a dragon."
"A dragon?" She beamed as she observed the rushed strokes as her gaze fell upon it. "Why a dragon?"
"He did not make much sense…" Kakashi scratched the back of his head before he resumed. "He said when you stepped in he thought you were a dragon."
"Oh…" Tsunade giggled faintly. She traveled her gaze back at the man who fought harshly with his mind not to grow lost within her orbs again. "Thank you... Reminds me…Could you please tell me about the War of Creation? Not now, of course but tomorrow. My knowledge is still little and the more pieces I find it becoming less understandable."
"Yes I can tell you about it. Albeit whatever you heard must have been true."
"So there was a dragon? And the priest? And a demon-hunter?" Her curiosity piqued to his amusement as she asked ever so eagerly.
"My father was a hunter. That is why he was called White Fang."
"Stop! Speak no more! We shall grab dinner and you will tell me everything! Please, Kakashi-sama!"
"All right, all right." Kakashi couldn't help but chuckle at the cunning zeal of her spirit. "Ichiraku's then?"
"Ichiraku's it is." Tsunade nodded, and driven by a sudden and alien urge, she kissed his cheek upon which she wished to leave red marks of her anger, before.
The samurai could not see her red face nor he could depict the rapid rhythm of her heart as she made haste from the village and did not stop until she was upon the roofs of the palace and slipped back unseen to her chambers.