After returning home, Tsunade pushed open the study door and bent over to search the second shelf of the cabinet.
It didn't take long to find it.
The medical records were wedged between two medical textbooks. She pulled them out, intending to tuck them into her bag.
Then her hand stopped.
Beside the records sat a fist-sized box covered in dark blue velvet.
Tsunade stared at it for two seconds.
Then she set down the records and picked up the box.
The velvet showed slight wear.
There was no store logo or price tag on the bottom.
She turned it over and examined it from every angle.
It wasn't hers.
She could say that with absolute certainty.
She had never spent money at a jewelry store in her life. Her money went to gambling tables and bars.
And yet here it was in the cabinet, beside the medical textbooks she looked through every day.
Tsunade furrowed her brow and began to think back.
Last week, she had opened this cabinet to take the textbook beside it.
Had she seen this box then?
She couldn't remember.
It wasn't that she hadn't noticed it. She genuinely couldn't remember.
It was as if this thing had always been there, as if she had seen it countless times but never realized it didn't belong.
The feeling made her deeply uncomfortable.
Just like those dreams.
When the thought came to her, Tsunade's movements faltered.
She didn't want to think in that direction.
She had put herself through enough over these past few months.
She had already put the whole thing behind her.
But the box was in her hands.
It was real, solid, and had weight. It wasn't a dream.
Tsunade set the box on the desk, stepped back, and leaned against the bookshelf.
She