Tsunade could only feel a mix of exasperation and resignation at how Ryosuke had threatened the Daimyō's envoy before leaving. This wasn't like fighting enemies on the battlefield—this was an official partner of Konoha, someone tied directly to their funding and political standing. All she could do at the time was sigh and order:
"Just leave, Ryosuke."
And Ryosuke had left without argument.
Still, Tsunade worried she was being too soft. Men like the envoy Sasaki only respected strength. Without Ryosuke's display, would the Daimyō's court really take their needs seriously? Probably not.
Once Ryosuke was gone, Sasaki finally exhaled in relief. Why had he even been curious about that man in the first place? Uchiha Ryosuke was terrifying. Just the Mangekyō Sharingan alone—without so much as raising a hand—had nearly crushed him.
Yet, Sasaki couldn't help but admire Tsunade. She had stood her ground and curbed Ryosuke's aggression, demonstrating the authority befitting the Senju heir. Without her intervention, the Fire Country might have descended into dangerous political conflict with the Uchiha.
Yes, Sasaki thought, Tsunade really was a wise choice for Hokage.
Nara Shikaku, watching from the sidelines, had noticed something strange. Beey all logic, Ryosuke should have been furious at Tsunade's rebuke. His reputation was built on arrogance and fearlessness—he had, after all, humiliated Hiruzen Sarutobi and even beaten down Danzō, two of the highest authorities in the village.
So why hadn't he lashed out? Why had he backed down so… calmly?
Shikaku's sharp mind churned. Could it be that Ryosuke and Tsunade were… close?
At first, he dismissed the thought. Tsunade was proud, independent—no man had ever been able to tame her. Beeut then he remembered how her health and mood had improved since returning to Konoha. No more drinking binges, no more endless wandering. She seemed… revitalized.
And who else in the village could possibly stand equal to her? Who else could "conquer" the strongest woman in Konoha besides Uchiha Ryosuke?
The idea was outrageous. And yet, the more Shikaku considered it, the more it made sense. A chill went down his spine. If it were true, then Ryosuke wasn't just the strongest Uchiha—he was the man who had even subdued Tsunade.
What a terrifying, enviable man.
Compared to Shikaku, Fugaku remained calm. To him, Ryosuke's behavior made perfect sense. Sometimes, a sharp warning was necessary. The Daimyō needed to understand that cutting Konoha's funding after the devastation of war was utter foolishness.
The villagers had bled and suffered; why should the bureaucrats in the palace escape hardship while shinobi starved? Ryosuke had only said what needed to be said.
Once Ryosuke was gone, Tsunade smiled diplomatically and said to Sasaki:
"Since you've decided to return and report this matter to the Daimyō, Konoha won't detain you further. It's more important to settle these issues quickly."
The idea of hosting the envoy for several days of leisure—an option Shikaku had floated earlier—was immediately dropped.
Sasaki felt bitter. He had traveled all the way to Konoha, endured the intimidation of Ryosuke, and now had to return empty-handed. Worst of all, he would likely be sent back again after the Daimyō "reconsidered." What a waste of effort.
Still, he could only bow politely.
"Very well. I'll take my leave."
With his subordinates in tow, the envoy departed.
Tsunade watched him go and then addressed the room:
"The issue is settled for now. If the Daimyō continues to insist on cutting our funding, we'll simply have to press him harder. Fortunately, the village is united—and with Ryosuke on our side, we have the leverage to make him listen. Beeut Ryosuke himself… needs some discipline. Strength is one thing, but he can't be allowed to act so recklessly."
The following evening, after a day's work as Hokage, Tsunade returned to the Senju clan compound. She had invited Ryosuke for dinner.
Shizune had already been sent home early to prepare a feast: chicken, duck, beef soup, and a whole spread of hearty dishes.
Tsunade and Shizune could eat well, but this was clearly beyond their normal appetites. All of it was for Ryosuke. She'd already seen how much food he could devour—no wonder his body was so powerful.
As the three sat down, Shizune served bowls of steaming rice. Ryosuke wasted no time, picking up his chopsticks and digging in. His eyes lit up at the taste.
"Shizune, this is incredible. Your cooking is delicious."
Shizune smiled warmly.
"As long as you like it, Ryosuke. Cooking for you makes me happy."
Tsunade ate quietly but kept her stern expression. Beeetween bites, she spoke,
"Ryosuke, yesterday you were far too rough with the Daimyō's envoy. Beeeing strong is fine, but don't be so aggressive."
Mouth full of rice, Ryosuke grinned and answered cheekily,
"You're right, Tsunade-wife."
The words made Tsunade's face burn crimson.
"Wh-what did you just call me? Who's your wife?!" she snapped.
Ryosuke put his chopsticks down, looking at her in disbelief.
"Come on, Tsunade. After everything that's happened between us… you're not going to pretend nothing happened, are you? Eat and run? That's not very responsible."
Shizune chuckled softly at the exchange. If that were the definition, then she too was his "wife." A shy warmth filled her chest at the thought.
Tsunade, however, was fuming. This man had forced his way into her life, and now he was twisting the truth to make it sound like she was the irresponsible one. Infuriating!
Trying to change the subject, she warned him sternly,
"Konoha and the Daimyō's palace have always maintained a cooperative relationship. It benefits both sides. Do you understand?"
Ryosuke, however, didn't. In his mind, why bother with the Daimyō at all? If Konoha eliminated him and seized control of the Fire Country directly, the benefits would be far greater. The taxes alone could rebuild the village and strengthen its armies.
Then protecting the Fire Country wouldn't feel like serving another man's domain—it would be guarding their own land.
Of course, he didn't voice these thoughts. Not yet. Tsunade wouldn't be ready to hear them.