Chapter 21

NB : Important Author Note at the end. And prepare for an emotional rollercoaster of a chapter.

Tsunade froze, the voice slicing through her haze like the sharp edge of a kunai. Familiar, biting. What was it—who… no—what… Sensei. Sensei? Yes, that voice.

Her fingers fumbled with the blanket, clenching and unclenching. It was warm, her face hot, or was that the sake? The room spun slightly. No, that wasn't it. It wasn't the room. It was her head. His voice—Hiruzen—sensei—that was solid. That cut through. She blinked, her pigtails sticking damply to her cheeks, the world tilting.

"Sen…Sensei?" It spilled out of her mouth, more a question than a word, thick with disbelief and alcohol.

Her legs shifted beneath her, wobbly, disconnected. She tried to stand, her knees buckling as her weight tipped forward. The mattress caught her, soft and heavy like the fog around her brain. She grabbed for the headboard, her knuckles pale against the wood. No balance, none at all. Too much? Too much what? Oh, the sake. Just one… more than one. How many?

"Sensei…?" she repeated, her lips fumbling the word.

She slumped back into the pillows, the blanket slipping off her shoulder and pooling around her waist, its crumpled folds doing little to cover her. The robe she wore hung in disarray, one sleeve sliding entirely off her arm, the other barely clinging to her shoulder, the fabric stretched and twisted from careless movements. Her chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths, her breasts spilling freely from the robe, the sweat-slicked skin catching the faint light in a sheen. The fabric, bunched beneath her, left her collarbone and the tops of her shoulders bare, flushed and damp with heat. Her stomach, taut and slightly exposed where the robe gaped open, glistened faintly, a thin trail of sweat tracing the curve of her hip where the knot had loosened completely.

Her face was a mess of drunken weariness, her cheeks blotched with uneven color, a crimson flush creeping down to her neck. Strands of golden hair clung to her face, damp and sticking to her temples and jawline, her pigtails uneven and disheveled. One tie had slipped almost entirely loose, sending strands of hair spilling over her cheek, while the other hung lopsided, drooping limply. Her lips, slightly parted, quivered as she mumbled incoherent words under her breath, the corners slack as though forgotten. The robe, misaligned and tugged carelessly, bunched around her hips, leaving one thigh completely bare to the cool air, the fabric trailing precariously close to slipping further.

She wasn't sure if she was smiling or grimacing. Was it shame? No, it wasn't shame—it was something closer. The kind of feeling that sat in the chest and refused to move. She stared at the door, her vision blurring and sharpening in waves.

And then he stepped inside.

Hiruzen Sarutobi. Her sensei. The man she used to call unshakable, unbreakable. But this wasn't the fragile elder she'd imagined in her mind, the one she remembered withered by the years. This man—this presence—was sharp, solid, a storm wrapped in human skin. He wasn't young, no, but he wasn't the memory of frailty she clung to. He was something… more.

Tsunade's fingers tightened on the blanket. She felt the air shift around him, heavy but not oppressive. She tried to rise again, the room lurching as her legs wavered beneath her. Her knees buckled, and she dropped back onto the bed, her breath hitching.

"S-Sensei!" she blurted, louder this time, the sound cracking as it left her throat. Too loud. Too sharp. Or was it not loud enough? Too much noise in her head. Always too much. Too much.

Her hands shook as she clung to the fabric, her chest rising and falling in uneven bursts. Her gaze darted toward him, her lips fumbling for the words. "Wha… wha're y'doin' here? T'drag me back? T' tell me t' be a good little princess? Hah!"

Her laugh was ragged, bitter. The sound barely escaped her mouth before it fizzled into silence. Her voice wavered between defiance and something rawer, something she couldn't place—wouldn't place.

He didn't answer right away. Just stood there, that same steady presence, his gaze sweeping over her like she was something to be read, not spoken to. Her pigtails swayed as her head tilted, her hair sticking to her neck, her breath hitching again.

"Tsunade", he said.

And still, she felt it. That pull. That energy. The battlefield. The voice that had once yelled orders over screams, over explosions, over the chaos of war. It hit her chest, heavy and electric, sparking something buried, something forgotten.

Her fingers tightened further, knuckles whitening as her breath caught again. She wanted to say something else, wanted to spit something sharp or throw the blanket or stand up again, but none of it came. She just sat there, her body swaying, her voice caught in her throat. And for the first time in years, she felt small. Exposed. Waiting.

Her head throbbed, a dull ache behind her temples that pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat. What were the medical jutsu for this again? Something about manipulating circulation, chakra control... no, bad idea. Her sluggish brain clawed at the memory: bad thing to try and fix yourself when you're drunk. Right. Bad Tsunade. Dangerous. She blinked hard. Someone had just said her name. Who? Ah, yes.

"Sensei," she muttered, her voice dragging over the syllables. The word was bitter on her tongue.

What was he doing here? After all this time? He looked solid, annoyingly alive, standing there like some immovable mountain. She squinted at him, the blur of her own hair hanging loose over her eyes doing little to help. "What're you… here for, Sensei?" she slurred, her words tangling. "You—tryin' to drag me back? Like hell!"

Her breath hitched, anger bubbling up from somewhere deep, seeping into her words as they tumbled out unfiltered. "Fucking… ninjas, always think they can pull you back. Always got the answer. 'Tsunade, the village needs you.' Fuck the village! Fuck… ninjas! Fuck all of it!" Her hands fumbled at the air, as if trying to grab onto her thoughts, her voice rising in frustration. "What's it all for, huh? Just to… make kids killers? To dig graves for everyone you ever—"

"Tsunade", he said.

Again? For the first time? She did not know. It grated against her drunken haze, scraping at emotions she wasn't prepared to deal with. His voice cut through her rambling, calm and steady like it always had been. She snapped her head toward him, her hair whipping clumsily across her face.

"Stop!" she barked, her voice cracking. "Stop soundin' like you care, damn you!" Her chest heaved as she gritted her teeth, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "Fuck you, Sensei!"

She pushed herself up, stumbling once, twice, before managing to sit upright. Her trembling hand jabbed an accusing finger in his direction. "You don't care! You never cared! You just—sent orders, sent kids to die. Always someone else's problem, right? Right!?"

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, unsteady but determined. With a sharp inhale, she forced herself up, swaying on uncooperative legs as she staggered forward. Her finger still pointed, the accusations barely coherent but sharp enough to cut. The ANBU operative shifted slightly, moving aside with the precise, silent hesitation of someone who valued their life.

"Please, forgive her, she's…", started Shizune.

"Shut up, Shizune!" Tsunade barked, snapping toward her apprentice, who had begun to apologize on her behalf.

Her words hit like a whip, and Tsunade saw the recoil—saw the way Shizune froze as if struck. A pang shot through her, somewhere between her chest and stomach. No, she hadn't meant to... it wasn't Shizune's fault.

Her vision swam as she turned back to Hiruzen, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. "You!" she snarled, the words catching on her tongue. "You asshole. Why are you here? Why do you sound like you fucking care? You don't! You never did!"

She staggered closer, the anger and frustration driving her forward even as her legs wobbled and protested every step. Her finger jabbed toward him again, her movements erratic but fueled by a drunken fury that would not be denied.

"If you cared, you'd have come in person!" she spat, her words slurring together in a tumble of rage. "Not sent a fucking clone! Sending ANBU for thirty years—thirty!—never showing your wrinkled old ass here yourself, and now… now what? Huh? A clone, is it? A fucking clone!"

Her words shook the room, her voice raw and cracked, like something broken that had been patched together with anger and sake. The Anbu by the wall shifted nervously, a barely perceptible movement that screamed unease. Shizune had her hand raised slightly, as though she might intervene, but Tsunade's fury kept everyone rooted to their spots.

Her hand shot up, trembling with rage. "Not even real," she growled, her words choking in her throat as her hand lashed out toward him. "Just another trick. Another one of your fucking—"

Her fist collided with his stomach.

Solid.

She froze, her breath catching.

Huh.

The warmth under her hand, the faint hum of chakra alive against her fingertips…

Huh.

Her hand pressed against him, trembling as her drunken mind struggled to process what her body already knew. It was firm. Solid.

Real.

The haze shattered, clarity punching through the fog as her fingers twitched and fell away. Her chest tightened, the fire of her rage cooling into something else entirely. Her lips parted, but no words came.

It's him.

Not a clone. Not a trick. It was him.

Her sensei. Here. In person.

The realization hit her like a fist.

And then came the actual slap.

The sound of it cracked through the room, not loud, but sharp enough to freeze everything around it. Tsunade recoiled, her body jerking back in disbelief. It didn't hurt—there wasn't even any force behind it. A genin wouldn't have felt the sting. But it wasn't the strength that struck her; it was the fact of it.

Her sensei… had slapped her.

Her breath caught, her drunken haze evaporating like mist under the sun. Whether it was the shock of the slap itself or her body unconsciously kicking her chakra into gear, she sobered instantly.

"You... you slapped me?" she asked, her voice hoarse and stumbling over the words.

"Yes, I slapped you," Hiruzen replied, his tone as steady as a mountain. "Tsunade."

Her hand touched her cheek again, as if trying to confirm that it had really happened. "You… even when I was a genin, you never slapped me…" The disbelief was raw, tumbling out of her in unguarded confusion.

Nearby, the Anbu and Shizune shifted awkwardly, their discomfort palpable in the silence that followed. This felt private. Too private. And there was something about seeing Tsunade, legendary Sannin, the woman who had fought Hanzo, reduced to this childish behavior that felt almost… pitiful.

Hiruzen, however, didn't waver. His voice carried no judgment, only an unrelenting calm. "Yes. You were ten years old when you were a genin. Though thankfully, I never made a rule against hitting immature children, or else I couldn't have slapped you now."

Her brow furrowed, her lips parting as though she wanted to retort, but the words didn't come.

His expression hardened, his words cutting through her as precisely as any jutsu. "Mind you, Tsunade, you were made a genin at ten. And you left the village twenty-five years ago. Congratulations—by now, you've been a missing nin from Konoha longer than you were ever a ninja of the village."

Her eyes widened, the weight of the statement slamming into her like a physical blow.

"Be happy," he continued, his voice firm but measured, "that all you have is a slap, and not an ANBU team with the order of bringing back your head ambushing you."

Dead silence filled the room after Hiruzen's words, so heavy it seemed to press on every corner of the space. Tsunade recoiled, her breath catching as her mind struggled to process the weight of what he had just said. Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her body swayed slightly, and her hands trembled.

What… what did he just say?

The realization clawed at her, dragging her into a harsh clarity that her drunken haze had kept at bay. Missing-nin? No. She wasn't a missing-nin. That couldn't be right. Yes, she had left the village. Yes, she had ignored summons. Yes, she hadn't taken any missions from Konoha in decades.

But… no. That didn't make her…

"Oh," she whispered, the sound barely audible.

"Yes, 'oh,' Tsunade," Hiruzen said, his voice sharp enough to cut through her fog of disbelief.

Her chest tightened as she stood frozen, the truth unravelling in her mind with agonizing clarity. It was true. If he hadn't covered for her, if he hadn't buried her defection under layers of Hokage authority, the Hunter-nins would have come for her long ago. She would have been labeled a rogue shinobi—a traitor.

"But… I was just…" Her voice wavered, caught between confusion and a desperate attempt at denial.

Hiruzen exhaled heavily, and his expression softened. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, carrying a depth of emotion she hadn't expected. "Tsunade," he said, "I know."

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in his tone.

"I know why you left," he continued, stepping closer, his hands clasped behind his back. "I know how much you've lost. And I know how much pain you've carried because of it." He paused, his eyes meeting hers, and for the first time in years, she saw no judgment there. Only understanding.

"Dan. Nawaki. They weren't just people you loved—they were your anchors, weren't they? The ones who reminded you why we fight. Why we endure. Losing them wasn't just tragic, Tsunade. It was unbearable. It broke you."

Her lips quivered, her hands tightening into fists. The words struck deep, pulling at wounds she had spent years burying under layers of alcohol and bravado.

"And I… I failed you," Hiruzen said, the admission carrying a weight that made even Shizune look up in surprise. "I was the Hokage. It was my responsibility to protect everyone in this village, ninja or not. That includes Dan. That includes Nawaki. And I failed. I failed them, and I failed you."

Tsunade's breath hitched, and she looked away, her chest tightening as the words cut through her defenses.

"They were more than shinobi. They were family. And I failed to keep them safe," he continued, his voice thickening with an emotion he rarely allowed himself to show. "So, yes, you had every right to leave. Every right to be angry. Every right to hate me. I understand. Truly, I do. Because there's nothing I wouldn't give to undo the pain I caused you."

Her knees threatened to buckle under her, and she gripped the edge of the bed for support. She hadn't known how badly she needed to hear this—how much her anger had been tied to the guilt and grief she had carried alone for decades.

"But," Hiruzen's voice shifted, firmer now, "anger and grief do not excuse abandoning the people who still need you."

Hiruzen's face tightened, his weathered features betraying cracks in the armor he had spent decades cultivating. His voice softened, becoming heavier, quieter, as though he was speaking less to her and more to the ghosts of his own memory.

"When the Kyubi attacked…" he began, the words pulling themselves from a place far deeper than mere recollection. "Biwako… my dear, sweet Biwako. She…"

His voice wavered, his hand flexing at his side. He looked past Tsunade, past the room, his gaze fixed on something none of them could see.

"She died that night." The words hung in the air, quiet but suffocating. "She died in my arms. The mother of my children, the woman I swore to protect with everything I had. She gave her life for this village, and all I could do was hold her. Hold her as her blood soaked into my hands. Hold her as her breathing stopped. Hold her as the world fell apart around us."

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, his hand clenching into a fist. "I wanted to die, Tsunade. Right there, with her. To leave with her. To let someone else take the burden."

His breath hitched, just barely, before he opened his eyes again, now sharp and cutting as steel. His expression hardened into something colder, something unyielding.

"But do you know what I did instead?" he asked, his tone shifting in an instant, slicing through the air like a knife.

Tsunade's lips parted, but no sound came.

"I sat my old, tired ass behind a desk, I donned my old armor" Hiruzen said, his voice colder than steel, "and I put the fucking hat on my head."

His eyes were sharp, unforgiving, as they bore into her. "I didn't crawl into a bottle like a coward. I didn't run to the nearest gambling den and piss away my days throwing dice and excuses at the world. I didn't sulk like a spoiled brat who didn't get her way. I stayed. I did the work. I gave the order. I buried the dead. And when there was no one left to bury, I kept going."

His words slammed into her like a battering ram, each one sharper and heavier than the last. "I signed the death notices, Tsunade. I wrote the condolence letters. I faced the people whose loved ones didn't come home. And I did it while my wife—my wife—was rotting in the ground. Do you think I wanted to? Do you think I didn't want to quit? To burn the hat and walk away from it all?"

She flinched, gripping the blanket so tightly her fingers ached, but his relentless tone didn't waver.

"But I didn't," he snapped, his voice like a whip. "Because that's what it means to be a ninja. That's what it means to be Hokage. You know, Ho-Ka-Ge? The job of 'fools', you called it? No. You don't get to quit because life hurts. You don't get to drink yourself stupid and cry about how unfair it all is. You don't get to gamble your dignity away while the rest of us pick up the pieces."

Her breath hitched, her hands trembling.

"And you," he said, his gaze hardening further, "you threw it all away. You turned your back on the people who needed you. You left your village to rot because you were too weak to handle your pain. Do you think you're the only one who's lost people? The only one who's suffered? Grow the hell up, Tsunade."

His words landed like blows, each one stripping her bare.

"When Biwako died," he said, his tone dropping to an icy chill, "I didn't have the luxury of breaking down. I didn't get to wallow in self-pity or run off to hide from my responsibilities. I had to lead this village. I had to protect the people who were still alive. I had to move on."

He stepped closer, his voice lowering but losing none of its bite. "And you? What did you do? You ran. You abandoned everything and everyone. Forcing the poor and prodigious Shizune to follow you. And for what? A bottle? A deck of cards? A pathetic attempt to drown out your shame?"

Her head dipped, her chest tight, but he didn't stop.

"You should be on your knees thanking me," he said, his voice razor-sharp. "Because if I hadn't covered for you, if I hadn't spent decades shielding you, you'd have a Hunter-nin's blade through your throat by now."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Hiruzen's voice softened, but it was no less cutting. "You abandoned us, Tsunade. You abandoned your village. And the only reason you've been allowed to live in peace for twenty-five years is because I covered for you. I protected you."

He took a step back, his gaze still pinned to her. "But don't mistake that for approval. Don't mistake that for forgiveness. You haven't earned either."

Shizune shuffled awkwardly in the corner, her face pale as she stared at the floor. The ANBU stood stock still, their discomfort palpable even through the mask.

Tsunade's lips quivered, her voice cracking as she struggled to piece together a response. "I can't… I'm… I'm useless," she whispered, her words barely audible over the suffocating tension in the room. Her head dipped further, her hands clenching into trembling fists. "What can a medic who fears blood even do?"

Hiruzen let out a harsh, derisive snort, his tone dripping with biting sarcasm. "Yes, what could a legendary S-ranked ninja do for her village? Surely your fighting skills, leadership experience, and unparalleled knowledge of medical ninjutsu are completely useless to a place like Konoha."

His eyes narrowed, and he gestured sharply. "Lizard. The scroll."

The ANBU operative stiffened as if suddenly remembering they were visible, then moved forward with measured steps. From within their cloak, they retrieved a thick, weathered scroll, the weight of it apparent even in their gloved hands.

Tsunade stared at it as Lizard extended it toward her. For a moment, she didn't move, her eyes darting between the scroll and Hiruzen's unyielding gaze. Slowly, she reached out, her hands trembling as they closed around the rough surface of the parchment.

"What…" Her voice faltered."What is this?"

"That," the Hokage said, "is a list of Konoha citizens who died from non-blood-related injuries over the past twenty-seven years. Cell degeneration. Advanced-stage cancers. Infections. Conditions that could have been treated and cured if there had been another competent medic at the hospital."

Her hands froze on the scroll.

"All eleven thousand seventy-six names. Read them if you have the stomach for it."

The words struck like a hammer, leaving her paralyzed. She stared down at the scroll, her grip tightening, her breath hitching as the weight of what he had said crushed her.

Hiruzen didn't wait for a response. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he turned on his heel. Without another word, the Third Hokage left, his steps steady and unhurried as he disappeared into the corridor beyond.

Important Author's Note:

I'm publishing this bonus chapter for two reasons. First, because I really enjoyed writing it and couldn't wait for you to read it. Second, to let you know that I've just launched a new story—Highschool DxD x Multicross: The Grand Azathoth Hotel! It already has ten chapters and is available on QQ (first eleven chapters) or on my page on fan (I'm publishing about one chapter a day). If you don't know what to read after Curse These Old bones - go check it, it's a nice (well, I think so) muticross story (including Highschool DxD, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Naruto, One Piece, etc...)

As always, if you enjoy my work, please consider supporting me on my Patr. e.-on. Your support allows me to dedicate more time to writing—just like I did today! It helps me create new projects, keep this fic going strong, and bring you even more content. Thank you!