Where Did You Come From, Sis

Sunlight squeezed through the gaps in the window lattice.

Tsunade rolled over, buried her face in the quilt, and let out a muffled groan.

Her body felt loose, her limbs as soft as if they had no bones.

She had slept very soundly.

As this thought surfaced, she frowned.

She could stare at the ceiling until dawn during a night shift at the hospital, yet she would toss and turn for over an hour in her own bed.

But on this bed, she lost consciousness the moment her head hit the pillow.

Tsunade sat up slowly.

Her hair was a tangled mess, her mouth tasted bitter, and she reeked of alcohol.

She looked down—her clothes from yesterday were wrinkled and clinging to her body.

She had drunk too much again.

She rubbed her temples, trying to piece together the events of last night.

Cooking, drinking, talking about Nawaki, drinking some more.

And then—

"Will you cook for me every day from now on?"

"...Fine."

Her fingers froze against her temples, unmoving.

She had said fine.

She had actually opened her mouth and said that word.

Tsunade grabbed the quilt and pulled it over her head.

Muffled inside, she cursed herself in a voice she couldn't even understand.

After a long while, she threw off the quilt, let out a breath, and stepped onto the floor with bare feet.

The thin blanket on the living room sofa was folded neatly; the room was empty.

The scent of food drifted from the kitchen.

Tsunade walked over.

A breakfast was laid out on the table—white porridge, pickled vegetables, a plate of fried eggs, and half a pot of warm tea.

A sticky note was pressed under the teacup.

She pulled it out.

The message was brief.

"You said fine, I'm taking it seriously."

Tsunade stood in the middle of the kitchen holding the paper, motionless for a long time.

The heat on her face started at her earlobes and spread all the way to her neck.

She flipped it over; there was nothing on the back.

She flipped it back to the front and stared at it for a few seconds.

She bit her lip.

She folded the note in half, then in half again, and stuffed it into her pocket.

Her movements were as swift as a thief's.

She sat down to eat breakfast. The porridge and fried eggs were well-made. She polished off every bite and washed the bowl and chopsticks, placing them back where they belonged.

As she wiped her hands, her gaze swept across the table once more.

The note was already in her pocket.

Tsunade put on her high-heeled sandals, smoothed her hair with a casual gesture, took a deep breath, and ironed the expression on her face flat.

She pulled the door open.

A person stood outside.

Nawaki's hand was still raised in a knocking gesture, his mouth open, halfway through a sentence—

"Master, have you seen my sis—"

His voice jammed.

He blinked twice, finally seeing who was standing inside the doorway.

"...Sis?"

Silence for a second.

Nawaki's gaze slid down from her face.

Yesterday's clothes, wrinkled; hair loose; the smell of alcohol still lingering.

Behind her was the entryway of Kitahara Kaede's home.

The corners of his mouth curled up bit by bit.

It wasn't a look of surprise, but the kind of smile that said, "I understand everything"—the kind that was incredibly punchable.

"Oh—"

Nawaki dragged the note out, crossed his arms, and leaned back.

"Sis, last night you—"

Thump.

A knuckle-rap landed on his head, fast and accurate.

Nawaki crouched down, clutching his head, and let out a yelp.

"Shut up."

"I haven't even—"

"No need to finish."

Nawaki rubbed his forehead and looked up from his crouch.

The smile hadn't faded; it had only grown brighter.

"Fine, I won't say it. Just one question."

"Don't you dare."

"One! Just one!"

"Try me."

Nawaki's lips moved.

Tsunade raised her hand.

Nawaki shrank back instantly, covering his forehead with both hands and retreating half a step.

"Never mind, never mind—"

Though he backed down, his eyes darted sneakily between Tsunade and the door behind her, his face practically screaming the answer.

Tsunade took a deep breath.

"Why aren't you at home? What are you doing here so early?"

Nawaki sounded righteous: "I woke up and realized you weren't home, so of course I came to Master's to ask—"

He paused, then flashed that smile again.

"And you really are here."

Tsunade balled her fist.

"I left something here yesterday. I came to get it."

"What thing?"

"None of your business."

Nawaki scanned her up and down, then looked at her empty hands.

"Sis, you came out empty-handed."

Tsunade lunged forward.

Nawaki took off running, and even three steps away, he didn't forget to shout back—

"I support you guys! Sis, you really have good taste—"

Whoosh.

A sandal flew past his head and thudded into the wall.

Nawaki ducked, but he couldn't help himself and added one more line—

"Master! Why did my sister come out of your house!"

He shouted it loud enough for half the alley to hear.

Tsunade stood at the door, one foot bare, her chest heaving.

The two stood in a standoff, three meters apart.

Just then, footsteps echoed from the mouth of the alley.

Kitahara Kaede turned in, carrying a bag of groceries.

He took in the whole scene at a glance—Tsunade standing at his door with one bare foot, the other sandal embedded in the wall three meters away.

Nawaki was crouched in the distance, hands protecting his head, wearing an expression that said, "I can still be saved."

He stopped.

"What's going on?"

Nawaki's eyes lit up, his mouth opening—

Tsunade sprinted over, grabbed him by the back of his collar, and dragged him toward the alley exit.

"Let's go."

"Sis, why are you dragging me—Master! Master, help!"

"Stop yelling."

"You're choking me!"

Tsunade didn't look back, dragging him away.

As she passed Kitahara Kaede, her pace faltered for a heartbeat.

She didn't look at him.

She left.

Kitahara Kaede stood where he was.

Tsunade strode away, Nawaki being dragged behind her, his heels scraping two lines into the ground, his mouth still running.

He watched for two seconds, lowered his head, and let out a soft laugh.

He walked inside.

The bowl and chopsticks on the kitchen table were washed clean and put back in their place.

The teacup was still there.

The note was gone.

Life went on like that.

The frequency of Tsunade coming to Kitahara Kaede's to cook changed from every few days to every single day.

Taking off her clogs at the door, tying her apron, flipping the cutting board—the routine was fluid and practiced.

She knew where the seasonings on the stove were better than Kitahara Kaede himself.

Ever since that morning when he "caught" them, Nawaki had become a regular in the house.

His excuse was high-sounding—"Sis, is there really a difference between cooking for three people and two?"

He called it bumming a meal, but in reality, he was just a human lightbulb.

Tsunade manned the ladle, Kitahara Kaede chopped vegetables, and Nawaki was responsible for washing dishes and being ordered around.

The division of labor was clear; everyone did their part.

When he wasn't cooking, Nawaki would squat to the side, his eyes darting back and forth, his grin impossible to suppress.

Whenever Tsunade caught him, she'd grab a spatula and swat at him.

Nawaki would scramble away, shouting—"Can't I even smile?!"

"You know exactly what that smile means."

Kitahara Kaede would sit to the side, not interfering, just chopping his vegetables.

That evening, dinner was served.

A plate of soy-glazed saury, a dish of salted cucumbers, a bowl of miso soup, and white rice steamed to individual perfection.

The three of them sat around the table to eat.

Nawaki took a few bites, then suddenly stopped his chopsticks.

He looked at the dishes on the table, then at the two people across from him.

"Master, Sis."

"Hmm?"

"Days like this are really nice."

Tsunade's hand paused mid-motion.

Kitahara Kaede looked up as well.

Nawaki grinned, his eyes curving into crescents.

"Just the three of us, eating, arguing, training. If only it could stay like this forever."

Silence for a second or two.

Tsunade glanced at Kitahara Kaede. Kitahara Kaede met her gaze.

Neither of them answered, but the corners of their mouths curled up at the same time.

Nawaki stuffed the last piece of saury into his mouth, his cheeks bulging like a squirrel's, and mumbled a final addition.

"When I become Hokage, I'll have you two cook for me every day."

Tsunade rapped him on the forehead with her chopsticks.

"Wash the dishes first, then we'll talk."

"Oh—"

Nawaki picked up his bowl and stood, trotting off toward the kitchen.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door.

Kitahara Kaede set down his chopsticks and walked to the entrance.

He pulled the door open.

An Anbu member stood outside, a hawk pattern painted on his white mask.

"Lord Hagoromo. The Hokage has called an emergency meeting in the Hokage Tower conference room in half an hour."

The Anbu glanced at Tsunade behind him.

"Lady Tsunade is also present—you are both notified for the same meeting."

With that, he vanished using a body flicker technique.

Kitahara Kaede closed the door.

Tsunade had already stood up and glanced at him.

"Let's go."