Chapter 11: Not Finished Yet
Naruto woke before the alarm. He always did nowadays.
The room was still dark, the digital clock on his nightstand glowing a soft 3:12 a.m. He lay there for a second longer than necessary, staring at the ceiling, letting the weight of sleep tug at him half-heartedly before he shrugged it off.
He rolled out of bed quietly, movements practiced and soundless. He pulled on his workout clothes in the dim light worn athletic pants, sleeveless shirt, wraps for his hands tucked into the pocket for later. He grabbed his bag that contained some of his workout supplies for the weekend as he walked out of the door.
Routine settled over him like armor.
Naruto paused at the door, glancing down the hallway toward Tsunade's room. The door was still shut. No light underneath. No noise.
Yeah. She wasn't waking up anytime soon.
He exhaled softly through his nose and headed for the kitchen instead of straight for the exit leaving his bag in the hallway.
The compound felt different this early hushed, suspended, like the world itself was holding its breath. Naruto moved through it easily, bare feet silent against the floor as he flicked on a single light over the counter.
He couldn't cook anything fancy but he could do simple things. And his oba-san would appreciate it nonetheless.
He decided on rice already washed and set to warm. A simple soup base simmered just long enough to finish properly. A couple of eggs, cooked plain. Comfort food. Fuel. Things that reheated without losing their soul.
As he worked, his mind began to drift to what made Tsunade so tired.
He didn't know all the details yet. He didn't need to. Tsunade didn't look like someone who'd failed when he found her asleep on the couch last night. She looked like someone who'd emptied the tank down to fumes and then kept going anyway.
Naruto set the containers aside, labeled them without thinking, and pulled a scrap of paper from the drawer and wrote a quick message.
Oba-san—
I'm heading out early. Training all day.
Food's ready—just reheat it when you wake up. Don't overdo it. Take care of yourself.
I'll be back by dinner.
—Naruto
He stared at it for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitched at the irony of the situation. He left the note propped neatly in front of the containers and turned off the light.
By the time Naruto stepped outside, the air had that sharp, early-morning bite that woke you up faster than caffeine ever could. He adjusted the strap of his bag across his shoulder and broke into an easy jog down the street, breath steady, body already slipping into motion.
The city wasn't asleep, it never really was.
A few lights were still on in apartment windows. A convenience store down the block hummed quietly, its doors sliding open for a tired-looking man in a delivery uniform grabbing something warm before heading home. Further down the road, a pair of sanitation workers leaned against their truck, chatting softly as they waited on a signal.
Naruto passed a pro hero on patrol,someone mid-tier, costume muted and practical walking a familiar route with hands tucked into their pockets. They nodded once when they spotted him running by.
Naruto nodded back.
It was nothing dramatic. Just the city breathing before it fully got into the swing of things.
He liked that. It reminded him the world didn't stop just because he hurt, trained, or pushed himself harder than he probably should. People lived. Worked. Watched over things. And he ran.
By the time the streets began to thin even further, the sky had shifted from pitch black to a deep, heavy blue. Naruto veered off the main route and followed the familiar path toward the shoreline, boots crunching softly as pavement gave way to sand.
Dagobah Beach spread out before him once again.
It was still a junk heap, there was no denying that. Rusted appliances jutted from the sand like half-buried skeletons. Old tires, twisted rebar, old car frames, and shattered slabs of concrete still scarred the shoreline.
But it wasn't the same mess it had been a month ago.
Clear lanes cut through the debris now, paths Naruto had carved out through sheer repetition and stubbornness. Wide patches of sand were visible where junk used to be piled mountain high. Sections near the waterline were almost… clean. Not pristine. But walkable.
Off to one side sat the designated loading zone Toshinori had helped set up for workers to come and haul away. Heavy-duty bins reinforced with steel frames, already half-filled with sorted scrap waiting to be hauled off later in the week. Evidence of progress that didn't disappear overnight.
Naruto slowed to a stop near the usual marker and set his bag down, hands resting briefly on his hips as he surveyed the beach.
He checked the time. 3:59 a.m. Right on schedule.
He rolled his shoulders once, stretching out any stiffness, eyes flicking toward the path leading down from the street. Kirishima should be showing up any minute now. If he was serious, anyway.
Naruto exhaled slowly, letting the ocean air fill his lungs.
Naruto straightened, gaze fixed on the path, posture easy but ready.
"Let's see if you meant it," he murmured.
The waves rolled in behind him, steady and relentless, as the sky lightened just enough to hint at dawn. And Naruto walked from the path and waited instead of starting right away.
Naruto stopped near the edge of one of the cleared lanes, hands resting on his hips as he scanned the stretch of beach ahead of him. His gaze traced the debris line automatically.
That section next, he decided. Work toward the water. Open the path wider.
He was just about to move when the sound of footsteps reached him uneven, dragging slightly, accompanied by a familiar huffing breath.
Naruto turned.
Kirishima was making his way down the path from the street, shoulders slumped just a little, workout bag bouncing lightly against his side. He was dressed for training, sleeveless shirt, athletic pants, wrist wraps already in place,but the early hour showed on him. His eyes were a bit bleary, and he yawned openly as he approached.
"Yo…" Kirishima greeted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Man, four a.m. is brutal."
Naruto snorted softly. "You made it."
"Barely." Kirishima laughed tiredly but there was a spark of excitement behind it. He straightened, rolling his shoulders as his gaze drifted past Naruto and out over the beach.
And then he stopped.
"…Whoa."
His eyes widened as he took in the sprawl of Dagobah Beach. The jagged silhouettes of abandoned appliances, rusted metal jutting from the sand, tangled heaps of junk stretching toward the water.
He looked back at Naruto, brows knitting.
"So, uh…" Kirishima gestured broadly. "How are we supposed to work out here?"
Naruto let out a small chuckle, one corner of his mouth lifting as he followed Kirishima's gaze.
"That's the thing." He said, turning back toward the debris. "We're gonna clean it."
Kirishima blinked. "…Clean it."
"Yup."
The redhead stared at the beach again, then back at Naruto, then laughed in disbelief. "I thought we were gonna hit the water or run. Maybe lift weights. You know manly stuff. Pump the iron ya know."
That earned a huff of amusement from Naruto as he went back to his bag and grabbed his mask. "Don't worry. We'll get to swimming and running later." He said as he strapped the mask into place.
He walked back towards the heaps of trash and nudged a rusted washing machine with his foot, sand grinding beneath it.
"But don't underestimate this." Naruto continued, tone shifting not lecturing, just matter-of-fact his voice muffled but clear behind the mask. "If you look closely, there's all kinds of stuff buried here. Appliances, steel frames, concrete, hell there's even a car or two lying in there. Everything weighs differently. Everything fights you in its own way."
He crouched and tested the edge of a metal slab, fingers finding a safe grip point before letting go.
"Moving it right is the workout." He went on. "Lifting, dragging, carrying. If you rush it or pull wrong, you'll jack up your back or your shoulders. If you do it properly, though…" He straightened again. "You're working strength, control, and endurance all at once."
Kirishima listened closely now, nodding along.
"And stamina." Naruto added. "If you set a pace and stick to it. Not sprinting. Not stopping every five minutes. Just steady work."
He glanced at Kirishima, meeting his eyes.
"And don't try to go at my pace." He said bluntly. "I've been doing this for a while. My pace is different. You find yours ok."
There was a moment of silence. Then Kirishima's grin spread wide, sharp and genuine.
"…Man," he said, tightening his wrist wraps, "that actually sounds awesome."
He took a step toward the debris field, rolling his shoulders with renewed energy.
"Alright then." Kirishima declared. "Let's get to it."
Naruto nodded once, the hint of a smile still lingering as he grabbed the first piece of scrap.
And just like that training began.
Naruto pointed toward the stretch of beach he'd been eyeing earlier, an ugly cluster of half-buried appliances and tangled metal frames closer to the waterline.
"I'm taking that section." He said. "Work inward from the edges. Don't yank anything free if you don't know how it's anchored."
Kirishima nodded, already stepping toward a nearby pile. "Got it."
Naruto didn't say anything else.
The first refrigerator came free with a low groan of metal and sand. Naruto shifted his stance automatically, knees bent, back straight, core engaged. He lifted it in one go pulling it free from the sand. Then he carried it along the cleared lane toward the loading zone.
It felt… easier than it did a week ago
His muscles responded without hesitation, fibers contracting smoothly, strength flowing through him in a way that hadn't been there before. He felt it in his shoulders, his legs, even in his grip.
Oba-san was right, he realized faintly. His healing factor was making him a lot stronger faster than anyone else would've become through this training.
Naruto set the fridge down, wiped his hands on his pants, and moved immediately to the next piece, an old steel frame twisted nearly in half. He braced, lifted, rotated, and carried it off in one smooth motion, breathing steady behind the mask, his rhythm beginning to lock in.
Behind him, Kirishima had started in earnest.
He grabbed a chunk of broken concrete, grunting as he hauled it free and dragged it a few feet before setting it down. Strain quickly showed across his brow, but he grinned through it, clearly proud of himself.
"This is heavier than it looked." Kirishima laughed, rolling his shoulders.
Naruto nodded once but didn't stop moving.
Another appliance. Another frame. Another load to the bins.
That's when Kirishima glanced over and froze.
Naruto was already halfway back from the loading zone, carrying what looked like an old industrial dryer under one arm like it was nothing in his other arm, a frame of an old motorcycle motor and all hefted onto his shoulder for support. His movements were efficient with no signs of struggle. Just steady work, one piece after another, pace unbroken.
Kirishima's eyes widened.
"…Damn."
A spark lit in his chest, a need of wanting to keep up and not be left behind .He tightened his jaw, grabbed the next piece of debris, heavier this time, and hauled it free with a sharp grunt. He moved faster now. Less careful. Dragging instead of lifting properly. Trying to match a pace he hadn't earned yet.
Naruto noticed three trips later.
Not because Kirishima slowed, but because his movements changed.
Naruto set his own load down and turned, watching Kirishima for a second longer than necessary. The tension in his shoulders. The way his footing slipped in the sand. The shallow breathing.
"Hey." Naruto called, raising a hand.
Kirishima didn't stop and instead kept on trying to keep his newfound pace.
Naruto walked over, placing a firm hand on the metal slab Kirishima was trying to yank free.
"Stop."
Kirishima blinked, breathing hard and sweating heavily. "What? I'm good, man. I can—"
"You're pushing too hard." Naruto said calmly. Not annoyed. Just… factual.
Kirishima hesitated at the rebuttal.
Naruto crouched slightly, tapping the edge of the slab. "You're trying to go too fast and it's causing you to make mistakes. You're lifting with your back. That'll wreck you before noon."
Kirishima frowned, glancing down at his stance. "…Oh."
Naruto straightened, meeting his eyes. "I told you. Don't try to keep up with me." Naruto's voice softened just a little. "This isn't about proving yourself right off the bat." He counted. "It's about building yourself up better than you were before. Find your pace. Stick to it. You'll get there."
Kirishima exhaled, then laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah… guess I got carried away."
"It happens." Naruto replied.
Kirishima adjusted his stance, and tried again. This time slower, cleaner. The slab began to move with less effort.
"Hey." he said, surprised. "That actually feels better."
Naruto nodded once. "It should."
He turned back toward his section, mask still humming quietly with each breath. And training continued—steadier now, stronger for it.
And that was how the next few hours passed.
The sun climbed slowly as the two of them cleared sections of the beach. Metal scraped against sand. Concrete groaned as it was shifted inch by stubborn inch. The piles grew smaller, the cleared lanes wider. Sweat soaked through shirts, salt and grit clinging to skin as the ocean breeze cut just enough to keep them from overheating.
Naruto moved like he belonged to the rhythm now.
Lift. Carry. Set. Breathe along the way. Repeat.
The elevation mask hissed softly with every inhale, resistance steady and familiar. His muscles burned, but it was a clean burn. The kind that came from effort spent right. He barely noticed the time passing, body settling deeper into the cadence he'd built over weeks of repetition.
Kirishima worked hard beside him.
Harder than he'd ever worked before, if his labored breathing and sweat-soaked hair were any indication. He kept pace as best he could, learning quickly, adjusting his movements the way Naruto corrected him. Slower. Cleaner. Smarter.
By the time Naruto glanced at his watch again, the sky had fully lightened, the sun hanging low but warm over the horizon.
6:03 a.m.
Naruto straightened and raised a hand. "Alright break time."
Kirishima looked up like he hadn't realized time existed, then let out a long, grateful groan. "Oh thank god."
Naruto waved him over toward their discarded bags. Both of them were drenched in sweat now, clothes clinging uncomfortably. Naruto's chest rose and fell a little heavier than before, breath dragging against the mask but he was steady. Grounded.
Kirishima, on the other hand, dropped down onto the sand with a thud, elbows braced on his knees as he focused on just breathing.
Naruto unhooked the mask and clipped it back onto his bag before crouching and digging inside. He pulled out two bottles of water and tossed one over.
"Drink." He said gently but firmly.
Kirishima caught it gratefully and cracked it open, downing nearly half in one go. "Dude… I didn't think it was going to be this brutal."
Naruto handed him a protein bar next. "Eat too."
Kirishima blinked, then grinned. "You sound like a coach."
"Yeah, well," Naruto replied, unwrapping his own bar, "coaches are usually right."
They sat in companionable silence for a bit, water sloshing softly as waves rolled in just a few yards away. The beach looked different now clearer, wider, visibly changed by their effort.
Once Kirishima's breathing evened out, he let out a slow whistle, eyes sweeping over the stretch they'd cleared.
"…Alright." he admitted. "You were right. This is definitely a workout."
Naruto huffed quietly through his nose. "Told you."
Kirishima glanced at him. "So… how often do you do this?"
Naruto took another bite of his bar. "Every day. Before school."
Kirishima choked slightly on his water. "Every—every day?"
Naruto shrugged like it was nothing.
Kirishima stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. "That's insanely manly, man! No wonder you were moving like that earlier!"
That got a smile out of Naruto ,small, tired, but genuine. He shook his head. "Don't worry. We'll get you there too."
Kirishima grinned back, energized despite himself. "Yeah? I'm in."
They finished their bars, capped their bottles, and stood.
Naruto stretched once, then started walking toward a clean stretch of shoreline where the sand met the water. Kirishima followed, curious.
"So," Kirishima asked, "what's next?"
Naruto glanced back over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
"Time for some laps."
He didn't slow as he stepped straight into the water, cold surf biting at his calves before he waded deeper. Without hesitation, Naruto dove forward, arms cutting cleanly through the waves as he began his swimming routine.
Kirishima blinked then laughed, loud and unrestrained.
"Man, you're gonna kill me!"
Still laughing, he kicked off his shoes and followed Naruto into the water, splashing clumsily before finding his rhythm.
The ocean swallowed their voices as they swam out together—two figures cutting through the surf as the morning stretched on, the beach behind them a little cleaner than it had been before.
—
Later At The Compound.
Tsunade woke with a groan that felt like it came from somewhere deep in her bones.
"Ugh… god above…"
Her eyes cracked open to a ceiling she immediately recognize. For a second, her brain lagged behind her body, slow to catch up. Then everything else hit her at once.
The exhaustion wasn't sharp. It wasn't pain. It was weight heavy, dragging, like every cell in her body had collectively decided it was done for the day without consulting her.
She let her head fall back against the pillow.
"…Yeah. That tracks."
This wasn't muscle strain. She'd felt that a thousand times before. This was the deep, hollow fatigue that came from pouring her quirk through hours of sustained reconstruction. Precision. Control. Constant output. Her stamina had taken the hit, not her strength.
Still annoying.
She rolled onto her side and pushed herself upright with a low grunt, joints protesting more out of principle than injury. As she sat there, blinking the sleep from her eyes, something nagged at the back of her mind.
She didn't remember going to bed.
Tsunade frowned, rubbing her temple.
A flicker of memory surfaced foggy, half-formed. A hallway. A familiar presence. Strong arms, steady and careful, lifting her like it was nothing.
"…Huh." Her mouth twitched despite herself. "So that's how I got here."
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching her arms overhead until her spine popped satisfyingly. The compound was quiet peaceful in the way only home could be.
She padded toward the kitchen, bare feet silent against the floor, throat already dry. "I need water." She muttered. "And food. Preferably both at once."
She opened the fridged once she arrived mustering enough ambition to get her body food but stopped upon looking in the fridge.
Neatly packed containers sat front and center, filled with a simple, practical meal. Rice. Soup. Eggs. Her eyes shifted to the note in front of the food.
Tsunade picked it up, reading silently.
Oba-san—
I'm heading out early. Training all day.
Food's ready—just reheat it when you wake up. Don't overdo it. Take care of yourself.
I'll be back by dinner.
—Naruto
She stared at it for a long moment. A find smile came to her face .
"…Cheeky little brat."
But there was no heat in it.
She reheated the food and ate standing at the counter, slower than usual, listening to the quiet hum of the compound around her. The exhaustion lingered, but it was easing now settling into something manageable.
Her mind, however, was already moving.
That surgery took more out of me than it should've.
She leaned back against the counter, arms crossed.
Control was fine. Precision was fine. But my stamina? She clicked her tongue. Sloppy. She grimaced at the thought.
I've got some nerve to lecture Naruto about endurance and stamina. When I'm clearly not where I used to be.
That didn't sit well with her.
Tsunade finished eating, rinsed the container, and headed toward her private office.
She dropped into the chair behind her desk and opened a drawer she hadn't touched in a while.
Inside was a small black notebook worn at the edges, spine creased from years of use.
She flipped through it slowly, pages filled with names, notes, numbers written in her sharp, familiar scrawl.
"…Let's see," she muttered. "Where are you…"
Her finger stopped.
There.
She stared at the name for a second longer than necessary, then snorted softly.
"Well," she said, reaching for the phone, "if I'm gonna get back into hero shape… might as well do it the hard way."
She dialed the number.
The phone rang.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Tsunade leaned back in her chair, drumming her fingers against the desk. "Pick up, you idiot…"
Fourth ring.
Fifth.
Then—click.
A deep, amused baritone slid through the line, warm and unmistakably familiar.
"Well I'll be damned." The voice drawled. "Color me surprised. Never thought I'd live long enough to get a call from you, hime."
Tsunade closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"How many times do I have to tell you Jiraiya." She sighed wearily. "You damn pervert don't call me that."
A low chuckle rumbled from the other end of the line, rich and effortless, the kind that sounded like it had lived a full life already.
"Oh, I don't know." Jiraiya replied easily. "A thousand more times? Maybe a million? I might consider it then."
She scowled at the phone. "You won't."
"Probably not." he admitted cheerfully. Then his tone shifted not sharply, but noticeably. The teasing eased, replaced by something more attentive. "Still… not that I'm unhappy to hear from you. What's got you calling me, Tsunade?"
A brief second of silence occurred before he pressed on.
"…It's not about the Natuto, is it?" He asked, quieter now. "He's okay?"
Her posture straightened immediately.
"He's okay." She said firmly. "There've been… events. Things that changed him." She exhaled softly. "But I think he's going to be alright. So far."
"He's training." Tsunade continued. "Training to be a hero."
Jiraiya let out a slow breath. "Huh. Can't say that's a goal I've heard an Uzamaki having. So… he really wants this."
"He and his friend." Tsunade said quietly. "It was their dream. Together."
Her fingers curled lightly against the desk.
"Now," she added, voice tightening just a touch, "he's carrying that dream alone."
The silence on the other end deepened.
"I see." Jiraiya said at last. A trace of sadness beneath it. "That's… a heavy thing to shoulder."
"It is." Tsunade agreed. Then she shook herself, straightening. "But that's not why I called you."
"Oh?" he replied lightly. "Now that is interesting."
She leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "You know I've been back in Japan for a while. I've mostly been acting as a doctor. Consultation work mostly and some overseeing care. Not a lot of hospital work."
"Mhm." Jiraiya hummed. "I heard you've been wearing a white coat more than hitting the pavement."
She ignored the jab. "I took on a reconstruction case recently. A major one. The first surgery went perfectly."
"Of course it did."
"But," she continued, "I noticed something. My stamina isn't where it used to be."
There was a pause. Then Jiraiya burst out laughing.
"Oh this is rich."
"Don't." Tsunade warned.
"You? Rusty?" he laughed. "I knew living quietly would soften you up eventually!"
"Shut it!" She snapped. "I don't want to hear it. I know I've gotten lax." She exhaled through her nose. "And that's why I called you."
The laughter faded, curiosity taking its place. "Alright. I'm listening."
"My brat can push himself like a machine." she said. "But he's still a kid. He can't push me the way a seasoned pro can. Not yet anyways."
A slow, knowing hum came through the line.
"…I see," Jiraiya said. "So you need an old training partner."
"Yes."
A grin crept into his voice. "Like the old days."
She didn't hesitate. "Exactly."
"Well," he said, amusement returning, " anything for you, hime—"
"Jiraiya."
"—Tsunade," he corrected smoothly. "And your timing's actually perfect."
Her brow furrowed. "Why."
"I just so happen to be in Japan right now." He said casually. "Tokyo, actually. Taking in the sights. Enjoying the wonders the home country has to offer."
She sighed, already knowing. "That means women and sake."
"And culture." He added defensively. "Don't forget culture."
"When can I expect you?" she asked flatly.
"Well," Jiraiya mused, "if I wrap things up here… I'd say I could be over by dinner."
She closed her eyes. "Figures."
"Care for me to join you and the brat?" he asked, tone light but genuine.
Tsunade hesitated for only a moment.
"…Yeah," she said. "That's fine."
There was a brief pause on the line.
"Thank you, Jiraiya." she added quietly and genuinely. "I really appreciate this."
All the teasing vanished.
"Of course." he replied, voice steady and sincere. "I know you don't have many people left there. Not really."
Her jaw tightened but she didn't deny it.
"I'll be there by dinner." Jiraiya continued. "I'll see you soon hime."
The line clicked dead after that.
Tsunade set the phone down slowly, exhaling through her nose.
"…Idiot." She muttered.
But the faint smile on her lips lingered long after the call ended.
Tsunade didn't move right away after the call ended.
She sat there in her chair, office quiet around her, the weight of the mid-morning settling in now that there was nothing demanding her attention. No patient on the table. No vitals to monitor. No one depending on her hands staying steady.
Just… her.
She reached into another drawer of her desk and pulled out a small sake bottle, dark glass worn smooth with age. A matching cup followed. She poured herself a modest amount and took a slow sip.
The warmth settled low in her chest.
"…Still so good" She said aloud enjoying the taste and slight burn as the liquid settled in her stomach.
She nursed the drink rather than downing it, gaze drifting unfocused. After a moment, she reached for the phone again.
The line rang once. Twice.
Then—
"Tsunade-chan." Chiyo's familiar voice answered, calm and warm. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm alright, bachan." Tsunade replied, leaning back in her chair. "Just… a little surprised at how much that took out of me."
Chiyo hummed knowingly. "Extended quirk application will do that. Especially after such a long gap in use."
Tsunade took another sip. "Yeah. Guess I let myself get too comfortable."
There was no judgment in Chiyo's silence just understanding.
"…How's the patient?" Tsunade asked.
"He's still sleeping." Chiyo replied. "Vitals have been steady all night. No irregularities. If things continue like this, I expect he'll awaken soon."
Tsunade nodded, even though Chiyo couldn't see it. "Good."
She hesitated, then added, "Do you need me to come by later? To go over anything?"
"No." Chiyo said gently. "I've got it covered. You did your part beautifully."
Tsunade exhaled, tension easing just a bit.
"Now while I have you on the phone." Chiyo continued. "When would you like to schedule the next procedure?"
Tsunade stared at the ceiling, thinking.
"…A month from now." she said after a moment. "At least."
"That long?" Chiyo asked not surprised, but thorough.
"Yes." Tsunade replied firmly. "Even with modern medicine and quirk applications, the body still needs time to adjust. Two major reconstructions back-to-back would be reckless." She paused. "And it gives him time to rest and recuperate properly."
"And you." Chiyo added quietly.
Tsunade snorted. "Yeah. That too. Wouldn't do him any good if I ran into complications mid-surgery because I overestimated myself."
Chiyo nodded on the other end of the line. "Wise. I'll let Toshinori know once he wakes, and I'll coordinate with Nezu to lock in the schedule. The medical wing will remain prepped."
"Good." Tsunade murmured.
A brief silence passed before she added, more begrudgingly. "I suppose I'll see you Monday. To start taking over more of your duties at U.A. start letting those brats see the new guard I guess."
Chiyo chuckled softly. "Yes. I look forward to it."
Tsunade grimaced. "Never thought I'd end up being a wet nurse for a new generation of brats."
"That 'new generation,'" Chiyo replied dryly, "is rather fortunate to have you."
Tsunade huffed, but there was no real heat behind it.
"Enjoy your weekend." Chiyo said warmly. "And get some proper rest."
"I will." Tsunade replied. "See you Monday, bachan."
The call ended after that
Tsunade set the phone down, finished the last of her drink, and stood with a groan.
"Well," she muttered to herself, rolling her shoulders, "better start preparing the house for our guest."
She paused mid-step.
"…And make damn sure my private bath is secure from that pervert."
Shaking her head, Tsunade headed down the hallway, already mentally inventorying guest linens, spare futons, and what she could reasonably throw together for dinner—because knowing Jiraiya, he'd arrive hungry, loud, and entirely unapologetic.
And somehow…
That didn't bother her as much as she thought it would.
—
U.A Private Medical Wing An Hour Later.
Toshinori woke slowly. Not all at once but in pieces.
Sound came first. The steady, familiar beep… beep… beep… cutting through the fog like a metronome, anchoring him to the waking world.
Then sensations followed. The soft pressure of sheets, the faint hum of machinery, the sterile scent of antiseptic that had become almost nostalgic to him over the years.
His eyelids fluttered.
Light bled in, pale and diffused, and for a moment he thought he was still dreaming until the ceiling resolved into something unmistakably real. His recovery suite.
"…Ah." He rasped, voice rough and dry. "So… here I am again."
His abdomen throbbed with a deep, dull ache not sharp pain, not panic-inducing, but the unmistakable soreness of something that had been worked on. Repaired. Rewritten. He let out a low groan as awareness fully settled into his body.
Carefully slowly he lifted one hand from the sheets.
"That's quite enough of that." A calm familiar voice said nearby. "No rushing things."
Toshinori turned his head with deliberate effort.
Chiyo stood at his bedside, hands folded neatly in front of her, expression warm but firm. Beside her, balanced atop a raised platform with impeccable composure, stood Nezu, small paws clasped behind his back, eyes bright with intelligence and something unmistakably pleased.
"…Ah." Toshinori murmured again, blinking droziness from his eyes. "Sir… Chiyo…"
Nezu inclined his head slightly. "Welcome back to the waking world, Toshinori."
Toshinori swallowed, throat still dry. "How… did it go?" he asked, voice gravelly from hours medical induced sleep.
Chiyo smiled, the kind that carried reassurance earned through decades of practice.
"Exceptionally well." She said. "You should be pleased. You've got yourself a brand-new stomach, and we cleared out a truly impressive amount of scar tissue that had no business taking up residence where it did."
Nezu nodded along. "From a purely academic standpoint, it was rather fascinating."
Chiyo shot him a look. "You are not writing a paper on him."
Nezu chuckled softly. "A pity."
She turned back to Toshinori. "How do you feel?"
Toshinori opened his mouth.
"I feel—" A sensation bloomed low in his core, unfamiliar enough that it made him pause mid-thought. It wasn't nausea. It wasn't emptiness.
"…Oh." His eyes widened slightly.
Chiyo tilted her head. "Oh?"
Toshinori went very still, then let out a quiet, incredulous laugh, low and breathy, like he wasn't quite sure he was allowed to make that sound.
"I…" He blinked, hand drifting unconsciously toward his abdomen. "I believe…"
Nezu leaned forward a fraction, curiosity sharpening. "Yes?"
Toshinori swallowed again.
"…I'm hungry."
The words landed with more weight than they should have.
Not the hollow reminder to eat. Not the mechanical awareness of needing sustenance. This was different. Real. A physical pull, insistent and unmistakable.
"I mean," he added, a small laugh escaping him now, "properly hungry."
Chiyo smiled at that.
Nezu's ears twitched and then he too laughed outright, delighted.
"Well." Nezu said, rubbing his paws together, "I suppose that answers that question."
Chiyo nodded, satisfaction softening her expression. "That's an excellent sign. Your body's responding exactly as it should."
Toshinori stared at the ceiling, chest rising with a slow, steady breath, something warm and almost overwhelming settling behind his ribs.
"It's been… a very long time." he admitted quietly.
Nezu hopped down from his platform with a practiced ease. "In that case," he said cheerfully, "I suppose we should arrange something for you to eat."
He glanced up at Recovery Girl. "Doctor-approved, of course."
She huffed lightly. "Of course."
Toshinori smiled—small, tired, and profoundly sincere.
The medical bots arrived not long after.
They moved with smooth, unobtrusive efficiency, wheeling in a tray and positioning it carefully over Toshinori's lap. Nothing extravagant. Warm broth. Soft rice. Steamed vegetables. Plain, gentle food meant to nourish without shocking a body that was, quite literally, learning how to eat again.
Toshinori regarded the meal with quiet reverence.
Recovery Girl hovered nearby, arms folded but posture relaxed. "Nothing fancy." She said. "New stomachs don't appreciate surprises."
He chuckled softly. "I think… plain sounds perfect."
He ate slowly, deliberately, each bite cautious at first, then gradually more confident. And with every swallow, that unfamiliar sensation persisted.
Hunger satisfied.
Not dulled. Not ignored.
But answered.
Recovery Girl watched closely, then nodded to herself. "Good. No discomfort?"
"None." Toshinori replied. "It feels… normal." He paused, then corrected himself with a small smile. "Better than normal."
Nezu's ears twitched with interest as he scribbled something on a tablet. "Fascinating."
Chiyo ignored him and turned back to Toshinori. "Now while you're awake. We should talk about what Tsunade and I discussed earlier today."
Toshinori looked up attentively.
"She wants to place a month of recovery between surgeries." Chiyo continued. "For you and for her. Even with our advancement in technology and incopuration of quirks," she went on, "the body needs time to adapt and rest especially after a full organ reconstruction. Rushing it would be irresponsible."
"And," Nezu added mildly, "counterproductive."
Toshinori swallowed another bite, then rested his hands atop the tray. "I understand. I wouldn't want to jeopardize this… second chance."
Recovery Girl studied him for a moment, then nodded approvingly. "Good. Because that also means you need to significantly cut back on hero work."
That gave him pause.
"…I suspected as much," he admitted.
"We're not saying you'll be bedridden for the whole month." She clarified. "But you will not be rushing out to play Symbol of Peace. Not yet."
Toshinori leaned back slightly, eyes drifting to the ceiling.
Nezu stepped in smoothly. "Rest assured, Toshinori we can manage. The hero community is more resilient than you give it credit for."
He tapped his tablet. "We'll frame it as a strategic shift. Limited appearances. Erratic scheduling due to taking an interest on possible pursuing a a career in teaching here. In other words, a half-lie. Just enough to convice inquiring parties."
Toshinori smiled faintly. "…I suppose the world won't collapse if I take a short step back."
"It won't." Nezu assured him. "And it may be healthy for everyone to remember that peace is not upheld by one man alone."
Toshinori breathed out slowly. Then his thoughts drifted, inevitably, to someone else.
"…Will I be able to check on young Uzumaki?" he asked quietly.
Chiyo tilted her head. "Naruto?"
"Yes." Toshinori replied. "I'd like to see him. When I'm allowed to leave this bed, that is."
She considered for a moment. "You'll be staying here at least three to four days. I'd prefer a week, but I know you."
He smiled sheepishly.
"I want to make sure your new stomach is integrating properly." she continued. "No complications. No rejection. I trust Tsunade completely, but caution is still necessary."
"I understand." Toshinori said sincerely. "And I'm grateful."
His gaze dropped back to the tray as he finished the last of his meal, a thoughtful quiet settling over him.
"…For a long time," he said softly, "I thought even the idea all of this might just be a foolish dream."
Nezu looked up.
"To be given something back," Toshinori continued, voice steady but weighted, "that I believed was gone forever… a body that isn't constantly betraying me…"
He closed his eyes briefly.
"She's given me something extraordinary."
Chiyo smiled. "She has quite the quirk."
"And quite the will." Nezu added.
Toshinori nodded, a faint warmth blooming behind his ribs that had nothing to do with food.
"…Yes." He said. "She's quite the woman."
The words lingered in the room gentle, unforced, sincere.
Chiyo adjusted the blanket at Toshinori's waist one last time, eyes sharp but satisfied.
"Alright." She said. "You've eaten, you're stable, and your body's responding exactly as we want it to. That means it's time for you to rest."
Toshinori nodded, settling back into the pillows. "Of course."
"I'll be back later," she continued, already turning toward the door, "to check vitals and to bring you more food."
She gave him a pointed look over her glasses. "Approved food. Nothing adventurous."
He chuckled softly. "I wouldn't dare."
Nezu hopped back onto his raised platform, straightening his tiny jacket. "And I'll begin drafting a narrative for the Commission. Something suitably vague, reassuring, and entirely bureaucratic."
Chiyo snorted. "In other words, nonsense they'll eat up."
"Precisely." Nezu said cheerfully. "I'll ensure it explains why All Might's schedule will be… irregular. Strategic reassessment. Long-term planning."
Toshinori smiled faintly. "Thank you."
Nezu inclined his head. "Rest well, Toshinori. The future will still be there when you wake."
With that, the two of them exited the room, the door sliding shut behind them with a soft hiss.
Toshinori lay still, listening to the steady rhythm of the monitor beside him, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The ache in his abdomen was there, but it was manageable. Honest. The kind that promised healing rather than warning.
His thoughts drifted.
A month between surgeries.
A body slowly being rebuilt.
A future that no longer felt like borrowed time.
It was… a lot.
For a brief moment, his mind returned to Tsunade the woman who had stood over him without hesitation, hands glowing with life itself, and reshaped his fate with absolute conviction.
"…Extraordinary." He murmured quietly.
He let that thought rest but didn't linger on it.
His gaze shifted toward the window, toward the distant city beyond the walls of the medical wing. Somewhere out there, beyond concrete and steel, lay Dagobah Beach and Naruto.
Toshinori smiled, warmth blooming behind his ribs.
That boy's drive unyielding, stubborn, burning bright even when weighed down by grief. Had never ceased to amaze him in the month that he has known him. Even now, he could picture it. Red hair catching the sunlight, muscles moving with purpose, lungs burning as he pushed himself just a little further than yesterday.
He's out there, Toshinori thought. Working. Growing.
The idea filled him with a quiet excitement.
He wasn't finished yet.
Not as a hero.
Not as a mentor.
And certainly not as the man who would one day stand beside his successor and say, You're ready.
Toshinori closed his eyes, letting the steady beeping lull him into rest once more.
Soon, he'd be out there with Naruto again.