Meanwhile, as Dan Katō moved swiftly toward Tsunade's position, his thoughts drifted back through the years—to his life, his ambitions, and above all, her.
He had admired Tsunade long before they'd even spoken.
Who wouldn't?
After all, she was the woman every man noticed right away and every shinobi respected—brilliant, distant, captivating, powerful—stunning in every sense.
To Dan, she wasn't just another kunoichi; she was a symbol of everything he aspired to reach one day.
Dan had always been more capable than most shinobi of civilian origin, talented enough to stand out despite his humble birth.
Over time, even the Third Hokage himself had taken notice.
Hiruzen had drawn him closer, made him part of his closest and favored subordinates, the kind of privilege most born without a clan could only dream of.
Dan accepted that gratitude with humility.
What other choice did he have?
Without backing and external help, no civilian-born shinobi could rise far in strength and the village's hierarchy.
Serving under Hiruzen wasn't something to be ashamed of; it was literally survival, and in his eyes, loyalty to the legitimate leader of Konoha was honorable.
Still, there had been a turning point. Perhaps noticing his good looks, his potential, and his subtle glances toward Tsunade, Hiruzen had "accidentally" dropped hints.
Small things at first—casual comments about Tsunade's character, her loneliness, her need for companionship—and later, even indirect suggestions about how to win her over.
Dan never forgot that day. It was as if the Hokage himself had handed him a blessing.
To be encouraged by Tsunade's teacher, the most powerful man in the village, was no small thing.
For Dan, it felt like destiny—a significant sign that his feelings weren't foolish dreams, but something possible.
He'd imagined it often: the story of the handsome, ambitious young man of humble birth winning the heart of Konoha's golden princess.
It sounded like something from a fable—one that he fully intended to make real.
And for a while, it even seemed possible.
He followed Hiruzen's advice, the man who knew her the best, to the letter—timing his words, saying just enough to sound genuine but never desperate, listening more than he spoke, letting her confide in him.
He offered quiet support, subtle understanding, and gentle encouragement.
But no matter what he did, Tsunade always seemed to drift just out of reach.
Every time he thought she was beginning to open up, and he tried to advance further to a more intimate level, she'd close herself again, a quiet distance settling between them.
Yes, part of it was likely because of Nawaki's death, which had struck not long before he entered her life, shattering something deep inside her.
However, even beyond that… Dan often sensed and wondered whether her heart was closed in a way that didn't have to do with grief for a lost family fully.
It was as if some part of her was already claimed by something else unseen, occupied, guarded, unreachable, no matter how much warmth he offered or how long he waited.
She'd indirectly apologize, even smile sometimes, as if always telling him softly that she wasn't ready yet, asking him to wait—as if giving him hope while keeping him in place.
To Dan, it even sometimes felt like she was using him as a kind of emotional refuge, a safe listener, a man she could lean on, but not love.
He never had the courage or confidence to push further, be bold or assertive enough to cross that final line between them, even if it meant taking a risk, even physically.
Her temper, her strength, her pedigree, everything about her both awed and unnerved him, feeding that quiet inferiority complex and fear of humiliation he could never shake.
Still, he kept telling himself it was only temporary. That with enough patience, understanding, and time, she'd eventually heal and see him for who he truly was.
After all, in his mind, he'd already come closer to her than anyone else ever had, and with the Hokage's support behind him, he believed it was only a matter of time.
After all, what man could resist waiting for someone like her? Not to mention just those months, they knew each other; a woman like Tsunade was worth even years of effort.
Years he never got.
Fate had other plans.
He died suddenly during the Second Great Ninja War, ambushed and bleeding out before Tsunade's desperate healing hands could save him.
His last memory was that beautiful face fading before his eyes, the faint scent of her chakra, and the regret of dying before ever holding her as his own.
Yet, death hadn't been his end.
Recently, he was pulled back from the darkness by Danzo Shimura himself.
It was jarring at first, standing once again in the world of the living, but Danzo and Hiruzen had made sure his confusion didn't last.
They explained everything to him: how a dangerous Senju faction had once plotted a coup during the war, conspiring with outside forces before being eliminated for the village's safety.
One survivor had remained—its last heir—who was now corrupting Tsunade, turning her against Konoha, feeding her lies, and manipulating her grief to push her into rebellion.
Hiruzen himself had appeared during the briefing, speaking solemnly in that dark underground chamber where Danzo's Edo experiments had been perfected.
That alone had been enough to erase any doubts in Dan's heart.
He had always been loyal. Always believed in the village's righteousness.
And now, to learn that Tsunade—his Tsunade—was being led astray by some scheming child?
That filled him with anger.
The boy had stolen everything Dan had ever wanted.
He imagined the story Danzo described—the manipulative Senju youth whispering poison into Tsunade's ear, exploiting her loneliness, her clan pride, her pain.
The thought of it made his stomach turn.
That woman should have been his.
Not some boy's experiment.
And when Danzo hinted, carefully, almost conspiratorially, that if he succeeded in bringing Tsunade back, there might be a way to restore him fully, to truly return him to life in a new body, Dan didn't hesitate.
If Edo Tensei could bring him this far, why couldn't they take it one step further? He believed them. He wanted to believe them.
The promise of life… and Tsunade finally by his side.
So he accepted his mission without question.
He would talk to her, remind her who she was, pull her back to the light, and in doing so, prove himself worthy again to the woman he had once nearly claimed.
Soon, as he approached the battlefield, he saw her, small against the towering magenta Susanoo, moving with power and grace, Katsuyu's acid hissing beside her.
Izuna slowed his attacks slightly, as if sensing Dan's arrival.
Dan Katō froze for a moment, heart twisting painfully in his chest.
There she was. The woman he'd waited for in life. The one he'd died thinking of.
And now, he'd been sent to save her, again.
Meanwhile, Izuna's Susanoo slowed a bit, and Tsunade caught it immediately.
A man stepped forward toward her next inside the visible range, his chakra unmistakably familiar, yet distorted.
The presence was his, but warped, hollowed out, carrying that wrong, lifeless undertone only Edo Tensei could give.
Even his appearance looked slightly off, as if someone had tried to recreate him from memory and failed to capture the warmth that once made him human.
Dan Katō.
Tsunade's heart gave one hard, instinctive beat, but her face barely changed and was neutral.
She simply watched as he looked up and saw her.
Her instincts told her Danzo was behind this, due to the nature of how the Susanoo slowed just enough.
Emotional warfare.
Drag the past into the battlefield, break her focus for a single instant, let puppet Izuna exploit the opening.
It was exactly the kind of dirty trick he'd use.
Her jaw tightened when she sensed the chakra approaching further.
She didn't gasp, didn't soften.
She just stared, calm and almost expressionless, with only a faint, fleeting pity in her eyes.
Dan's reaction, however, couldn't have been more different.
He froze where he stood, eyes wide, mouth trembling, staring at her like she was divine, like he'd been granted the impossible.
To him, she looked exactly as she did in memory, only fiercer, more radiant, almost too unreal to belong in this world of blood and ash.
He felt his chest tighten with awe, grief, and longing all at once.
'She's here,' he thought, a tremor running through his chest.
'After all these years… she's really here. Is this my second chance? My life… possibly back, and with her, finally falling into my hands?'
But when she didn't speak, he convinced himself she was too shocked to find the words.
That she still cared.
That deep down, nothing between them had changed.
So he stepped forward. And spoke first.
"Tsunade," he began softly, the words trembling with emotion. "You've… gone so far. But it doesn't have to be this way. You can still turn back before it's too late. I can help you—help you reconcile with the village, with Lord Hokage—"
She blinked once, slowly.
"Turn back?" she repeated, her tone unreadable.
"Yes," he said, gathering confidence. "You're being greatly misled, Tsunade. That boy—Ryusei Nishida—he's using you. Filling your head with poison, turning you against everything you once protected. Against your home."
Her chakra flared faintly, but she said nothing.
He took it as a sign to continue. "You're not like him. You've just lost your way. I know you better than anyone, Tsunade. You're kind, loyal, a protector—"
"Stop."
Her voice was quiet, but sharp enough to slice through his words.
Dan hesitated, but pressed on. "You're confused, that's all. If you just talk to your teacher again—"
"I said stop."
This time, her tone was lower, heavier, like the air itself thickened with her chakra.
When she first saw him a moment earlier, she had even looked at him with pity briefly.
A man dragged out of peace and his afterlife, puppeted by the very monsters who'd destroyed her family, forced to stand against her just because of some half-dead bond.
But when he kept speaking, in that way, his tone so certain, his eyes so sincere, something inside her shifted regarding him, too.
Because he wasn't being controlled.
He actually believed it, to that extent.
Every word.
And that disgusted her more than she expected.
"Turn back?" she said quietly at first, her voice trembling - not with sorrow but rising fury.
"You think I'll turn back to them? To the same men who slaughtered my clan and called it duty? Who murdered my brother and buried him under lies?"
Dan froze.
She took a step forward, each word sharper than the last.
"They killed the Senju who stood for honor. They killed Nawaki. And now you stand there—used, twisted, blind—and dare to lecture me about loyalty?"
He flinched. "Tsunade, you're wrong. Nawaki's death—"
"Don't." Her eyes hardened. "Don't you dare say his name. You weren't there."
Dan's breath hitched.
Dan's composure faltered. "Tsunade, that's not—"
"I said, don't you dare to speak to what you don't know..." she snapped, her tone sharp enough to slice the air. "Don't you dare to defend and compare them to Nawaki. Or Ryusei."
"Ryusei…?" Dan's tone darkened. "He's deceived you, Tsunade. Can't you see that? He's using your grief, your guilt, to—"
"Enough!"
The ground cracked under her foot as Katsuyu's smaller bodies trembled from the pressure.
Her chakra spiked violently, heat rippling in the air.
"You think I'm lost? You think I need saving?" she hissed. "You don't know a damn thing," she continued, voice trembling with power.
Dan stared, wide-eyed, disbelief flickering across his face. "Tsunade, that's—"
She cut him off again, while shouting even higher, "Everything you're saying — it's garbage. Lies they filled your head with, like you're some mindless fool! The Senju they massacred were innocent. Ryusei is innocent. Nawaki was innocent. They're the monsters — not him. And I won't let anyone, not even you, speak badly of Ryusei in front of me!"
Dan staggered back half a step, stunned by her ferocity — and by the way she'd said his name.
For the first time, he truly looked at her and saw no tenderness, no hesitation — only blazing certainty.
And that hurt worse than any physical wound.
In his chest, something twisted painfully.
How could she look at him like that — like a stranger? Like an enemy?
And worse, defend another male, above him, with that same fierce passion she'd never once shown for him?
Inside, confusion began to gnaw at him.
'How could this happen?' he thought bitterly. 'What did they do to her? What did that boy say to twist her this far?'
But beneath his anger and denial, a tiny thought flickered — one that unsettled him even more.
'She sounds too certain… too sure. Could there be… something I wasn't told?'
He shook his head quickly, rejecting it.
No, that couldn't be. Danzo and Hiruzen wouldn't lie to him. They couldn't.
Still, that seed of doubt refused to die.
When he opened his mouth again to argue, she cut him off instantly.
"Enough words," she said flatly. "If you're here to fight, then fight. Otherwise, shut up and go back to your grave. But, don't you dare preach to me anymore. You stand with the men who killed my brother—you're no different from them. It seems that right now, you're not my ally, and you're not even my memory. You're just another puppet they sent against us today."
Dan stared at her in disbelief.
The faint kindness she'd once shown him — gone.
The soft pity — gone.
Even that sliver of warmth that tied them through the past — gone.
Now, in her eyes, he was nothing but an idealistic fool.
Another tool of her enemies.
And for the first time since being brought back to life, Dan Katō felt something colder than death itself — Tsunade's complete rejection in every way.
Meanwhile, on another side of the battlefield, Danzo, as much as his clash with Kiyomi allowed, constantly kept a close eye on Izuna's Edo Tensei seal and the surrounding terrain, from the moment Dan Kato appeared, waiting for the perfect opening — the moment Tsunade's guard might falter, for him to strike through it.
Until it didn't.
From the very start, Tsunade's demeanor remained unreadable and perfectly in control.
Not one time Dan spoke did she crack.
The faint disgust and anger she showed, in the end, were too measured, too deliberate, not enough to open a single gap in her shinobi defenses.
Danzo's expression darkened.
Useless fool.
He clenched his teeth, cursing under his breath.
With a flick of his hand, his control seals pulsed.
"Fine," he muttered. "If you can't break her heart, then I'll use you to test her hand."
He reasserted full control over Dan Katō's body, forcing the man to move.
A twisted grin crept onto his face.
"Let's see if you can actually kill him again, Tsunade. Or are you just pretending to be strong?"
Not to mention that something about Dan's current power nagged at him. It was way higher.
Ever since the summoning, both he and Hiruzen had noticed it; the man's techniques were nothing like before, during his life.
In life, Dan Katō had been an Elite Jonin-level strong, yes, but more of a tactical support type, yet he was now above all of that.
Now, he radiated the pressure of something more.
Danzo and Hiruzen had questioned him about it earlier.
Dan's answer was strange — that he'd simply woken up with that new knowledge, as if his soul itself had absorbed something, perhaps accidentally, in the Pure Land.
They didn't press further.
After all, it wasn't the first anomaly they witnessed with Edo Tensei.
Izuna had emerged with two legendary ancient spirit weapons of unknown origin, all of a sudden, just before.
Sakumo Hatake had appeared spontaneously after countless failed Edo Tensei attempts.
Whatever the case, Danzo wasn't going to let the opportunity slip.
He tightened his grip on the control talisman remotely and forced Dan's body into motion.
He had to assume the full control of Dan Katō's body to make him attack her first, despite the further chakra cost, because he had no choice.
That was because he had no confidence in letting him fight Tsunade under his own will, not after seeing the way the man froze the moment she appeared, and how she reacted in contrast.
It was obvious to him who held the psychological edge more currently.
Danzo had no intention of risking weakness of sentiment or hesitation in what should have been a weapon.
So he enforced perfect Edo Tensei control — turning Dan Katō from a man into nothing more than a blade.
'Let's see, Tsunade,' he thought coldly, how you handle your past coming back to kill you.'