"Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it…"
Tsunade sprinted across the wilderness, replaying her bitter life.
She had been the Senju clan's princess.
Her grandfather was the great God of Shinobi; her grand-uncle was the God of Shinobi's brother.
She bore the title of one of Konoha's Legendary Sannin, founded the village's medical-nin system, and saved countless lives.
Her life should have been radiant—brilliant and great.
She'd found friends who shared her ideals and a man she loved; joy doubled should have yielded even more joy.
So why? How did it turn into this?
Tsunade felt as tragic as Toyokawa Shoko of the shinobi world—if not worse.
So she ran. She ran as fast as she could—as if speed alone could fling off her sorrow.
Of course that's impossible. It doesn't square with the law of conservation of energy. In the end she only burned herself out, curled up in a thicket, and cried silently.
"Tsunade-sama! Tsunade-sama—where are you?!"
Faintly, Shizune's anxious voice carried from afar.
The girl must have lost Tsunade halfway—couldn't keep up, and now, piglet in arms, she was puffing along in search.
Before, Tsunade would have put on a breezy smile, sauntered out, and said:
"It's fine, it's fine—I just found a great way to make a fortune and had to sprint toward the sunset."
Shizune would sigh in relief and grumble at the nonsense:
"Come on, Tsunade-sama—don't scare me like that." Then they'd banter their way home.
But this time was different. This time Tsunade decided to let Shizune worry a bit longer—she wanted to be alone.
To be seen at her lowest by her least-wanted rival— even a bold woman like Tsunade would clam up like a scallop in its shell.
"Just… let me be alone a while."
She muttered to herself—but truthfully, if possible, she did hope someone would come help her, find her, care for her, look after her.
Like when she was little—any time she pouted, Grandpa would find her in no time and coax her to smile.
But that silly man who made goofy faces is gone.
Not just him—so many are gone. The Senju are gone.
Tsunade, too, was forced to grow up—from child to adult.
An adult's world is cruel. Adults don't even have the right to cry. Even in sorrow, you have to find an empty place to weep; otherwise there's no sympathy—only mockery for being weak.
Like that conniving Uchiha. If he saw her crying, he'd flash the standard Uchiha grin: "Ah-hahahahaha!!"
And laugh himself sick.
How hateful.
Like an old Yankee, young Tsunade had been taught two things by her grand-uncle: believe in the Will of Fire, and despise the Uchiha.
Though her grandfather's meddling blunted the lesson, in the era of Madara's defection she mostly believed Tobirama's line:
"Uchiha are born evil!"
Thinking of the Senju being wiped while the Uchiha lived on—thriving—and even mocking the last scion of the Senju… Tsunade's tears flowed all the more.
"A handkerchief—wipe your tears."
A warm voice sounded beside her, and its owner offered a handkerchief.
"Oh. Thanks."
Tsunade took it on reflex—then sensed something off. She snapped her head up—to see Uchiha Yorin's face.
He really was handsome.
Much as she hated to admit it, he might be the handsomest boy she'd ever seen.
So what? She wasn't some Sakura type who stops dead at a pretty face. No matter how handsome he was, she wasn't about to have a daughter with him and turn her into some offbeat glasses girl.
"You—"
Tsunade snapped back to herself, shot to her feet, and took a fighting stance. "Careful what you try. Or I'll put you through the ground with one Heavenly Foot of Pain—"
"—Calm down. I mean no harm." Yorin cut in. "This is a token of goodwill."
"Goodwill…"
It was a stack of signed contracts—bearing Tsunade's name.
"Eh—this is—"
She recognized them at once—her loan contracts with those street sharks. A heartbeat later, a flame flared and reduced the documents—worth tens of millions—to ash.
That was Yorin's proof of goodwill. In a sense, not bad. Tsunade still bristled and muttered, "So what if you have money?" But when Yorin asked:
"May I sit?" she didn't refuse.
So Yorin sat beside her, looked up at the sky, and said:
"I didn't live in the God of Shinobi's era—only heard stories from the elders. In that war-torn age, Hashirama Senju moved Madara Uchiha with bonds and brought the Uchiha and Senju to peace—and then together they founded Konoha.
"For you, that was the best of times, wasn't it?
"For most people, it was the best of times.
"Because of peace.
"Hashirama gave us an age of peace.
"Children slept without fear. Nights were sound. There were comrades you could trust, a place you could call home. It was good—don't you think so too, Princess of the Senju?"
"What's the point of saying this? That was a long time ago."
Tsunade turned her head, voice complicated.
"Was it so long? Only a few decades—the elders of that era are still alive… But yes—in spirit it's been a long time. After he died, peace died; war came back."
Tsunade: "…"
"Tell me, Princess—if, back then, Lord Hashirama had accepted Madara's proposal—if they'd joined hands to conquer the world—would things be different today? Would peace have lasted longer?"
"—What are you getting at?!" Tsunade eyed him, full of caution.
"I want you to be my partner."
Yorin held out his hand to her. "I want to rebuild the Senju–Uchiha alliance."
~~~
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