12/11/04

NaruTsunade?

The most innocent kiss

It was the most innocent of situations; the most innocent of kisses imaginable. Over the preceding days, she had begun to know him; to understand his motivations and dreams, and to respect them. So, when he had once again challenged her to a fight, she had accepted with a feeling of rising affection and warmth that she could not prevent. Strangely enough, she found that she didn't want to prevent it.

This was strange indeed, as for the last few decades, she had been bent on closing herself off, refusing to let anyone draw near, afraid of irritating the still raw wounds in her heart. But this boy, this child, had slipped in so easily, so quickly, that she had no time to even sense it, let alone stop it. And now she could not have removed him from her heart even if she had tried.

So by that time, of course she had had not the slightest intention of hurting him. Maybe just teaching him a lesson. But after skilfully flipping off his forehead protector, suddenly that vague idea was replaced with a very different, clear, precise idea that had seemed good at the time.

It was a prime opportunity. He stood before her, eyes scrunched shut, fists clenched and body shaking, waiting for the mother of all forehead flicks. But his face was lifted, ready, and she saw with a rush of approval that he was not attempting to flee or avoid his just punishment.

That is his spirit, the spirit of a Hokage...

She leaned down. He was so short. She leaned forward and, cupping his chin in her hand, pressed her lips firmly to his bare forehead.

Completely innocent.

A motherly gesture.

So why did the blood rush to her cheeks and her voice box seem to constrict as she spoke to him, his impossibly blue eyes gazing up at her, round as saucers. Perhaps it was the fact that she was not a mother, and never had been, and was therefore unused to such displays of affection.

She had to admit she had been nervous. After all, what kind of behaviour would one normally expect from a boy in reaction to such an embarrassing display, particularly in front of her assistant and his perverted trainer? After she had spoken to him, encouraging him to become a good man however, his stunned look had been replaced with a huge grin. The relief she had felt had been surprising, and a little amusing. To be so afraid of the opinion of a twelve year old boy she had only met a few days before? How immature.

How much more immature then, to now feel that same peculiar nervousness each time she was forced to summon him to her office for official business? He was, after all, an elite jounin of Konoha, her subordinate, who she had to meet and see almost everyday. There was nothing strange about it.

Except that she never felt nervous with any of her other shinobi, a kind of stomach twisting, knee-weakening anxiety, that made her glad for her supporting chair and the large desk that served to shield her from him.

Without warning, the office door flew open, and he was there, his muscular, 24 year old frame filling most of the doorway. His spiky blond hair brushed the top of the lintel as he entered the room, grinning.

"Tsunade no baa-chan! Long time no see! That is, since two days ago."

He flung himself into the chair in front of her desk and casually put his sandalled feet up on the polished desk.

"Can I get you a coaster for those?" the Fifth Hokage asked sarcastically, eyebrow quirking as she looked down at him.

Naruto merely continued to grin at her. The whole village knew that where the blonde jounin was concerned, the Hokage was putty. She let him get away with almost anything. Having the affection and attention of a mother-figure had been so new to Naruto, he had lapped it up with glee and now thrived on it.

He caught hold of her hands in both of his and pulled her towards him.

"Come on, old hag, I've just come back from a dangerous mission and now you're being so cold? Where's the love?" he looked up at her with puppy dog eyes.

She pulled her hands free, and, ignoring him, walked to her desk and picked up a large, plain brown envelope.

"Your next mission," she said tersely, tossing it to him. He caught it without looking and, ripping it open, quickly skimmed the few relevant lines it contained.

His brow furrowed. Her heart thumped harder and she turned away to look out the window, unable to bear watching him. At last he whistled softly and his voice was sober.

"This one's gonna be fun, two S-class criminals eh? Last seen in Stone Country, abilities unknown, possible connections with Yakushi Kabuto...boy, you sure can pick 'em obaa-chan," he said, the affectionate nickname slipping naturally from his tongue.

She still did not turn around. Her shoulders were tensed, her hands gripping the windowsill so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. It was an exceedingly dangerous mission, there was no doubt about that; but he had completed many dangerous missions safely. So what was this sudden mad urge to turn and beg him not to go?

Simply that. A mad urge. Not to be taken seriously. Not at all.

Suddenly, he was beside her. She wondered briefly when he had become so stealthy, when coherent thought was suspended by the sensation of his powerful arms wound around her shoulders, pulling her against him, into his side. She could feel his slow, steady heartbeat beneath her ear.

"Don't cry, Tsunade no baa-chan," he said softly. She was shocked; she hadn't even noticed the tears running down her face.

"I'll come back, don't worry. If I'm going to be the next Hokage, I can't die on some

mission. I'll definitely come back."

Her sobs quieten against his chest, and she wonders, as she has countless times before, when was the moment when he stopped being that boisterous, slightly infuriating yet loveable child and grew into the most precious, the most loved, the only, man in her life?

Cupping her chin in one hand, he tilts her face up gently and presses his warm lips to her forehead. She literally forgets to breathe.

"See you when I get back, granny." He whispers cheekily in her ear then leaves the room, noisily slamming the door behind him.

She stands still and looks out the window. The Hokage is blushing as she did twelve years ago, her stomach seems filled with butterflies, her knees feel like jelly. How immature she is, how foolish, how utterly, utterly stupid.

It was only a kiss. A kiss from a young man to a woman who he sees as the mother, the aunty, the grandmother he never had.

The most innocent of kisses.