Sunlight squeezed through the gaps in the window lattice.
Tsunade rolled over, buried her face in the blanket, and let out a muffled groan.
Her body felt loose, her limbs limp as if they had no bones.
She'd slept deeply again.
When the thought occurred to her, she frowned.
She could stay wide awake until dawn on night shift at the hospital, but at home it took her over an hour of tossing and turning to fall asleep.
Yet the moment she lay down on this bed, she'd be out like a light.
Tsunade slowly sat up.
Her hair was a tangled mess, her mouth tasted bitter, and she reeked of alcohol.
She looked down—she was still wearing yesterday's clothes, wrinkled and clinging to her.
She'd drunk too much again.
She rubbed her temples, trying to piece together what had happened the night before.
Cooking, drinking, talking about Nawaki, then drinking some more.
And then—
"Then make it for me every day?"
"...Okay."
Her fingers froze against her temples.
She'd said okay.
She'd really opened her mouth and said that word.
Tsunade yanked the blanket over her head.
Muffled beneath it, she muttered something she couldn't even make out herself.
After a long while, she threw off the blanket, exhaled, and stepped barefoot onto the floor.
The thin blanket on the living room sofa had been folded neatly, but no one was there.
A smell wafted from the kitchen.
Tsunade walked over.
A breakfast sat on the table—rice porridge, pickled vegetables, a plate of fried eggs, and half a pot of warm tea.
A note was tucked under the bottom of the teacup.
She pulled it out.
The message was short.
"I took your 'okay' seriously."
Tsunade stood in the middle of the kitchen holding the note, unable to move for a long moment.
Heat crept from her ears, burning down her neck.
She turned it over. The back was blank.
She flipped it over again and stared at the front for a few seconds.
She bit her lip.
Then she folded the note in half, folded it again, and slipped it into her pocket.
She moved so quickly, you'd think she was stealing something.
She sat down to eat. The porridge and fried eggs were both good. She finished every bite, then washed the dishes and put them back where they belonged.
As she wiped her hands, her gaze drifted to the table again.
The note was already in her pocket.
Tsunade put on her heeled sandals, casually gathered her hair, took a deep breath, and smoothed out her expression.
She opened the door.
Someone stood outside.
Nawaki still had one hand raised to knock, his mouth open as he got halfway through a sentence—
"Master, have you seen my sis—"
His voice caught.
He blinked twice, then recognized the person standing in the doorway.
"...Sis?"
There was a moment of silence.
Nawaki's gaze slid down from her face.
Yesterday's clothes, wrinkled; her hair loose; the smell of alcohol not quite gone.
Behind her was the entrance to Kitahara Kaede's house.
The corners of his mouth slowly curled upward.
It wasn't a surprised grin. It was the kind that said, "I know everything"—the most punchable kind of grin imaginable.
"Ohhh—"
Nawaki drew out the sound, crossed his arms, and leaned back.
"Sis, last night you—"
Thwack.
A sharp, perfectly aimed rap landed on his head.
Nawaki crouched, clutching his head, and yelped.
"Shut up."
"But I haven't—"
"You don't need to finish."
Nawaki rubbed his forehead and looked up from his crouch.
His grin hadn't faded. If anything, it had grown even brighter.
"Fine, I won't say anything. I just have one question."
"You're not allowed to ask."
"Just one! Only one!"
"Go ahead and try."
Nawaki's lips moved.
Tsunade raised her hand.
Nawaki instantly shrank back, protecting his head with both hands as he retreated half a step.
"I won't ask, I won't ask—"
He might have been backing down with his words, but his shifty eyes darted between Tsunade and the doorway behind her. His face said it all.
Tsunade took a deep breath.
"Why aren't you at home this early in the morning? What are you doing here?"
Nawaki answered with perfect confidence. "I woke up and found you weren't home, so of course I came to Master's place to ask—"
He paused, then flashed that grin again.
"And you really were here."
Tsunade clenched her fist.
"I left something here yesterday. I came to get it."
"What thing?"
"None of your business."
Nawaki looked her up and down, then glanced at her empty hands.
"Sis, you came out empty-handed."
Tsunade lunged forward.
Nawaki took off running. Even after he'd made it three steps, he still turned to yell—
"I support you two! Sis, you've got great taste—"
Whoosh.
A sandal flew past his head and thunked into the wall.
Nawaki ducked, but couldn't help adding—
"Master! How did my sister come out of your house?!"
He shouted loud enough for half the alley to hear.
Tsunade stood in the doorway, one foot bare, her chest heaving.
The two of them faced off three meters apart.
Just then, footsteps sounded at the mouth of the alley.
Kitahara Kaede came around the corner, carrying a bag of things.
He took in the whole scene at a glance—Tsunade standing barefoot in front of his house, her other sandal embedded in a wall three meters away.
Nawaki crouched in the distance with both hands over his head, wearing an expression that said, "I can still be saved."
He stopped.
"What happened?"
Nawaki's eyes lit up, and his mouth opened—
Tsunade dashed over, grabbed him by the back of his collar, and started dragging him toward the end of the alley.
"We're leaving."
"Sis, why are you dragging me—Master! Help!"
"Stop shouting."
"You're choking me!"
Without looking back, Tsunade dragged him away.
She paused for a moment as she passed Kitahara Kaede.
She didn't look at him.
Then she left.
Kitahara Kaede stood where he was.
Tsunade strode ahead while Nawaki was dragged along behind her, his heels scraping two lines into the ground. He still hadn't stopped talking.
He watched them for a couple of seconds, then lowered his head and chuckled.
He went inside.
The dishes on the kitchen table had been washed and put back in their places.
The teacup was still there.
The note was gone.
And so the days went by.
Tsunade went from cooking at Kitahara Kaede's place every few days to coming over every day.
She'd come in, take off her wooden sandals, tie on an apron, and set to work at the cutting board, her movements smooth and practiced.
She knew where the seasonings by the stove were better than Kitahara Kaede did.
Ever since Nawaki had "caught" something that morning, he'd become a regular at the house.
His excuse was perfectly reasonable. "Sis, is there really a difference between cooking for three people and cooking for two?"
He called it mooching a meal, but really, he was there to be a human spotlight.
Tsunade handled the cooking, Kitahara Kaede chopped vegetables and helped out, and Nawaki washed dishes and ran errands.
They had their duties, and everyone did their part.
Whenever there was no cooking to do, Nawaki would squat nearby, his eyes darting around and the corners of his mouth impossible to keep down.
The moment Tsunade caught him at it, she'd grab a spatula and smack him with it.
Nawaki would clutch his head and run for his life, still shouting, "I can't even smile?!"
"You know perfectly well what that smile means!"
Kitahara Kaede sat nearby, staying out of it as he chopped vegetables.
One evening, the food was ready.
There was a plate of soy-glazed Pacific saury, a dish of salted cucumbers, a bowl of miso soup, and fluffy white rice with every grain distinct.
The three of them sat around the table to eat.
Nawaki had taken a couple of bites when he suddenly lowered his chopsticks.
He looked at the food on the table, then at the two people across from him.
"Master, Sis."
"Hmm?"
"It's nice, having days like this."
Tsunade's chopsticks paused.
Kitahara Kaede looked up as well.
Nawaki grinned, his eyes curving into crescents.
"Just the three of us, eating, arguing, training. I wish we could stay like this forever."
Silence fell for a second or two.
Tsunade glanced at Kitahara Kaede. Their eyes met.
Neither of them replied, but the corners of their mouths lifted at almost the same time.
Nawaki stuffed the last piece of Pacific saury into his mouth. His cheeks puffed up like a squirrel's as he added, his words muffled.
"When I become Hokage, you two can cook for me every day."
Tsunade tapped him on the forehead with her chopsticks.
"Wash the dishes first, then we'll talk."
"Okay—"
Nawaki got up with his bowl and scurried off toward the kitchen.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
Kitahara Kaede set down his chopsticks and went to answer it.
The door opened.
An Anbu member stood outside, an eagle painted on the white mask.
"Lord Hagoromo. Lord Hokage has called an urgent meeting. It will be held in the Hokage Tower conference room in half an hour."
The Anbu glanced at Tsunade behind him.
"Lady Tsunade is here too—I'll notify her as well. It's the same meeting."
With that, the Anbu vanished with Body Flicker.
Kitahara Kaede closed the door.
Tsunade was already on her feet. She glanced at him.
"Let's go."
Before you continue