Hidden Cloud

Night had grown deep.

The tavern's guests gradually departed until only their table remained. The owner did not urge them to leave, merely dozing behind the counter as warm yellow lamplight cast a hazy glow over the entire room.

Sōji maintained his training posture, hands folded together as chakra slowly circulated through his meridians, but he had long since lost the ability to focus.

His gaze beneath the black cloth rested on the woman across from him.

Tsunade was already somewhat drunk.

She leaned against the table, propping her chin up with one hand. Her long golden hair had fallen loose, several strands clinging to her cheeks while others draped over her chest.

The collar of her kimono had already been quite open, and because of her posture, it now hung loosely off her shoulder, revealing a broad expanse of snow-white skin and delicate collarbones.

Below those collarbones lay lush curves the kimono could not conceal.

That proud fullness looked especially soft beneath the dim light, slowly rising and falling with her faint breaths, as though it might break free from her loose collar at any moment.

Her cheeks were flushed crimson, and her lips, moistened by wine, looked especially plump and glossy. A trace of wine at the corner of her mouth gleamed wetly under the light.

Seductress.

The word suddenly surfaced in Sōji's mind.

The sharp and domineering Lady Tsunade of ordinary days now radiated a lazy, defenseless haze from head to toe, like a languid lioness—or a drunken fox.

Her eyelashes drooped slightly, casting fan-shaped shadows across her eyelids.

There was no focus in her golden eyes. She merely stared blankly into empty space, her gaze passing through the tavern walls, through the night, and falling upon somewhere very, very far away.

Somewhere Sōji could not enter.

He lowered his gaze, then quickly raised it again.

Sneaking glances like this was not something he would normally do, yet he had done it too many times tonight.

Every time he looked away, before long, his eyes would drift back to her of their own accord.

It was not because of her current allure.

It was because of that thin layer of sorrow in her eyes, sorrow that was almost spilling over.

Tsunade's lips moved, but no sound came out.

Yet Sōji could read her lips.

She was saying a name. "Dan..."

The word slipped from her lips as lightly as a sigh, as softly as a wisp of smoke. After saying it, the corners of her eyes trembled faintly. Something glimmered within them, but in the end, it did not fall.

She blinked, hiding that trace of moisture away, then moved her lips again.

"Nawaki... I really... I really want to see you again..."

This time, there was a faint tremor in her voice.

Sōji's breathing paused.

Nawaki. Dan Katō...

At that moment, those two names drifted from the same woman's lips. They were light as air, yet heavy enough to crush the entire tavern.

Tsunade's eyelashes trembled. Her gaze remained unfocused as she reached for the wine jug, but her fingers slipped past its edge and grasped nothing.

Her hand hung in midair for a moment before slowly withdrawing and returning to the table.

She lowered her head, golden hair falling to cover most of her face.

Only her shoulders trembled once.

Very faintly.

So faintly it was nearly impossible to see.

But Sōji saw it.

His fingers curled slightly within his sleeves.

At that moment, he suddenly wanted to do something.

For instance, walk over and take the empty wine jug from her hand.

Or say something, even if it was only, "Lady Tsunade, it is time to go back."

But his feet seemed nailed to the floor, unable to take even one step.

He did not have that right.

They were traveling companions, healer and patient, teacher and student. Nothing more.

Those tender moments, those accidental displays of vulnerability, were merely the effects of alcohol—merely an illusion of the late night.

When the sun rose tomorrow, Tsunade would still be Tsunade: caustic, sharp, lazy, and distant.

Sōji lowered his gaze, lifted the tea before him that had long gone cold, and took a sip.

Bitter.

More bitter than before.

Just then, the door curtain stirred.

The night wind poured in through the lifted corner of the curtain, carrying the salty dampness unique to a harbor. Along with it came a tall figure.

He was a dark-skinned man with a tall, upright build. He wore a Kumogakure forehead protector and the standard vest of a Hidden Cloud Jonin. His features were rather gentle.

His breathing was somewhat hurried, as though he had run all the way here, but his movements remained restrained.

Standing at the entrance, he swept his gaze around the tavern before it settled on Tsunade. Then he strode over quickly.

His footsteps were light, carrying the caution of someone well-trained.

When he reached the table, he dropped to one knee, his movements as respectful as though he were paying homage to a daimyo.

"You must be Lady Tsunade, one of Konoha's legendary Three Ninja, correct? I have a request. Please, you must agree!"

Tsunade raised her head. Her unfocused gaze lingered on his face for two seconds before she frowned.

Her voice was somewhat hoarse, tinged with drunkenness and impatience. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The dark-skinned ninja did not change expression because of her attitude. Instead, he lowered his head even further and directly prostrated himself before Tsunade.

"I am a Kumogakure ninja named Amai. I apologize for this presumptuous interruption, but my companion has suffered grave injuries. I beg Lady Tsunade to save him!"

He spoke quickly but clearly, his tone earnest.

"Heh—"

Tsunade snorted, lazily leaning back against the wall behind her as she gave him a glance. "You're a Kumogakure medical ninja, aren't you?"

"Yes!" Amai immediately responded.

"Your companion is injured, so why not treat him yourself?"

"My abilities are truly insufficient for the task." Amai remained prostrated, not even daring to raise his head. His attitude was incomparably respectful.

"Hm?"

Tsunade smiled, then poured herself another cup of wine and drained it in one gulp as though no one else were present. She exhaled the scent of alcohol. "I refuse!"

Hearing that, Amai hurriedly raised his head and said anxiously, "Why? If it is payment... I... we..."

"Hmph. What nerve do people from Kumogakure have, begging Konoha for help?"

As she spoke, Tsunade impatiently poured herself another cup of wine. "You Shinobi World bandits who wanted to steal the Hyuga Clan's Byakugan."

"Hadn't the two villages already discussed a solution to this matter?"

Amai hurriedly tried to explain, his tone somewhat aggrieved. After all, the plan to seize the Byakugan had nothing to do with him or his companion.

"What shameless words from someone who benefited from it..."

Tsunade sneered. Her expression was displeased, yet she also carried a trace of helplessness as she drained the wine in her cup once more.

Others might not know why Tsunade wore such an expression, but Sōji knew exactly what that smile meant.

The Third Hokage, Tsunade's teacher—while no one could doubt Hiruzen Sarutobi's love for the village, as the Hokage of a village, his decisions could at times seem so weak and ineffectual.

The heroic ninja who had once led the village to victory in two Shinobi World Wars had now inevitably grown old and senile.

How tragic!