Teach Me

Tsunade didn't know where she'd gotten a pair of dice cups.

She squatted down and patted the spot beside her.

"Sit here."

The three-year-old spoke like a grown-up, sounding fierce and adorable at the same time.

Kitahara Kaede didn't sit beside her. He sat cross-legged across from her.

Tsunade's face fell. "I said sit here!"

"I can see better from across the table."

Tsunade glared at him for two seconds.

Then, deciding that wasn't enough, she added another second.

Finally, she must have decided that arguing with this disobedient brat was beneath her. She huffed and began explaining the rules.

"We each roll once and guess whether the total is high or low. If you guess right, you win. If you guess wrong, you lose. The loser gives the winner a piece of candy."

She pulled a handful of candy from her pocket and poured it out between them with a clatter.

It came in every color, glittering in the sunlight.

She counted it once.

Then, just to be sure, she counted it again.

And while Kitahara Kaede was looking down at the dice cups, she quietly moved a few of the biggest pieces over to her side.

Her technique was utterly clumsy.

Her mindset, however, was seasoned.

"These are the stakes." She looked up at him, utterly unashamed. "Do you have any?"

Kitahara Kaede felt his pockets.

Empty.

"No."

Tsunade looked him up and down.

Her gaze plainly spelled out two words: "Poor thing."

At least she didn't say them out loud.

After a moment's hesitation, she picked five pieces of candy from her pile and pushed them over to him.

"You can borrow these. If you lose them all, you have to pay me back."

"Fine."

"Double."

"...Fine."

Only then was Tsunade satisfied.

She picked up a dice cup and cupped it in both hands, shaking it as hard as she could.

With her eyes closed, she murmured something under her breath, though it was anyone's guess what.

Then she slammed the cup down.

"High!"

She lifted it. Eleven.

Tsunade covered her mouth and giggled, her eyes curving into crescents. She nodded toward the space in front of Kitahara Kaede.

"Your turn."

Kitahara Kaede gave the cup a casual shake and set it down.

Three.

Tsunade's hand darted out like a thief's, and one piece of candy was already on her side.

The next two rounds went about the same way.

The smile at the corner of Tsunade's mouth grew wider, while the pile of candy in front of Kitahara Kaede grew smaller.

By the end of the third round, he had only two pieces left.

Tsunade laughed so hard she doubled over. "You're so bad at this!"

She didn't spare him a shred of dignity.

Kitahara Kaede said nothing.

Just then, a system prompt sounded in his mind.

[Side Quest: First Meeting]

[How can you become someone's White Moonlight without making a lasting impression? Host, take the initiative and give the future Fifth Hokage a little shock.]

[Rewards will be based on your performance rating.]

Kitahara Kaede glanced at it and closed the panel.

You didn't become someone's White Moonlight by letting them win.

Letting her win?

No. That was Hashirama's sort of thing.

Kitahara Kaede knew one thing very clearly: the moments people remembered most from their lives weren't the times when everything went smoothly. They were the first time someone had beaten them fair and square.

"Again."

Tsunade was stuffing a piece of candy into her mouth. "You're almost out."

"I'll take it seriously this time."

She scoffed, with candy crumbs still clinging to the corner of her mouth.

"You weren't taking it seri—"

She didn't get to finish.

Kitahara Kaede picked up the dice cup, gave his wrist a slight turn, and set it down.

He lifted it.

Two sixes.

Tsunade stopped chewing.

"...Lucky."

She shook her cup, unconvinced, then slammed it down. Seven.

Kitahara Kaede picked up the dice cup again.

The same technique. The same angle.

Down, then up.

Two sixes.

The smile faded from Tsunade's face.

For the third round, she shook the cup with all her might, muttering some sort of incantation. Then she slammed it down and lifted it.

Eight.

That was a pretty high roll.

She turned to look at the other side.

Kitahara Kaede turned his wrist.

Two sixes.

The gazebo fell silent for a moment.

Tsunade stared at the dice for three seconds without saying a word.

Then she quietly picked up the cup, sealed its rim with her hands, closed her eyes, and shook it for a long time.

When she slammed it down, she put her whole body into it.

"High!"

She lifted the cup.

Five. Low.

She froze.

Kitahara Kaede had already set his cup down.

He didn't even call high or low. He simply lifted it.

Two sixes.

Tsunade's side was completely bare.

She had even lost the copper coins she'd won from Hashirama earlier.

On Kitahara Kaede's side, the candy had piled up into a little mountain.

She lowered her head and looked at the empty space in front of her.

Then she looked across at him. Her lips moved twice, but no sound came out.

Kitahara Kaede thought to himself, This is bad. I won by too much.

But Tsunade didn't cry.

He had expected her to burst into tears.

A little princess who'd been spoiled her whole life was bound to cry when she lost. It was only natural.

But she didn't.

She pressed her lips tightly together and clenched her little fists. Tears welled in her eyes, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall.

That stubbornness was exactly like the Fifth Hokage in the original story, the woman who'd stood her ground after Madara Uchiha's Susanoo pierced her body.

Kitahara Kaede didn't press his advantage or look smug.

He just sat there quietly and waited for her.

After a long while,

Tsunade sniffed. Her voice was muffled.

"You cheated."

"I didn't."

"Liar." She looked up at him, eyes red. "You can't roll two sixes every time."

Kitahara Kaede looked at her.

"I rolled two sixes every time."

Tsunade froze.

She'd been ready with a whole string of retorts, but now they were all stuck in her throat.

She'd thought he would make excuses. She'd thought he would laugh. She'd imagined all sorts of responses.

She hadn't imagined he would just admit it.

"...Then you did cheat!"

Kitahara Kaede neither explained nor argued.

He reached out and pushed the mountain of candy in front of him back toward her.

Tsunade vigorously wiped her face with the back of her hand, then stared at the candy and at him.

"...You don't want it?"

"I don't like sweets."

She stared at him in surprise.

"Then why did you beat me?"

"You said you wanted to play."

Tsunade was stumped.

For a long while, she couldn't find a single word to say.

It was true: she'd been the one to drag him into playing.

She'd set the rules herself, too. And she'd lent him the candy.

Her three-year-old brain worked on it for a while, but she couldn't make sense of it. So she gave up on arguing and focused on the question that mattered most.

"Then how can you roll two sixes every time?"

Kitahara Kaede didn't answer right away.

He picked up the dice cup and put one die inside.

Then he turned it over.

Rim down.

The die didn't fall out.

Tsunade's eyes went wide.

His four-year-old hand wasn't much bigger than hers, but the die sat perfectly still inside the upside-down cup.

She reached out instinctively to touch it.

Kitahara Kaede gently stopped her.

He turned the cup upright, set it down, and lifted it.

The die showed six.

Tsunade stared at it for several seconds without blinking.

Then she abruptly looked up.

She didn't ask, "How did you do that?"

She asked—

"Could my grandpa... do this too?"

The gazebo suddenly fell silent.

Kitahara Kaede looked into her eyes.

She was only three years old.

But she already understood everything.

Those bets she had never lost.

Those rolls that were always "just" a little higher than Grandpa's.

That man who always looked troubled, spread his hands, and said, "I lost again."

She was asking, but she already had the answer.

She just didn't dare confirm it yet.

Kitahara Kaede gave a slight nod.

Tsunade said nothing.

She lowered her head and looked at the pair of dice on the ground.

Then she turned and glanced toward the main hall.

For a long while, she sat in silence.

A tear pattered onto her knee.

Then a second, a third, sliding down her cheeks. She didn't seem to notice.

She wasn't sobbing, or crying out of hurt.

It was as if a child had suddenly understood something, but didn't know how to process it, and the tears had simply started falling on their own.

After a while, Tsunade wiped her face hard with her hand.

She looked up at him.

There was still a sheen of moisture on her lashes, but her gaze had brightened again.

"Teach me."

Kitahara Kaede glanced at her.

"Teach you what?"

"What you just did." She pointed at the dice cup. "The thing that kept the dice from falling out."

Kitahara Kaede felt something stir faintly in his heart.

He stood, walked around to her side, and sat down.

"First, hold the cup."

Tsunade reached out with both hands and cradled the dice cup in her palms.

Her hands were too small. The cup wobbled in them, as if it might slip out at any moment.

She looked up at him.

"Then what?"

Kitahara Kaede reached out and gently steadied her wrist.

"Don't rush."

"Take it slowly."