Hidden Leaf, Hidden Talents 109 (Patreon)

-Tsunade-

A sensei is supposed to walk in front.

That's how it works. That's how it's always worked. You lead, they follow. You take the hit, they learn from watching you take it. You stand between them and whatever's coming, and if you're good at your job, they never have to find out how close it got.

Grandma Mito told her that once, back when Tsunade was small enough to sit on her lap and still thought the world made sense. "The one who teaches must also be the one who shields." Tsunade had nodded very seriously, like she understood. She didn't. She was six. But the words stuck anyway, burrowing somewhere deep enough that they'd never really left, surfacing at the worst possible times to remind her what she was supposed to be.

She was supposed to be in front.

Instead, she was watching his back.

He wasn't tall. She kept forgetting that. Her eyes kept adding inches that weren't there, giving him the presence you'd expect from a man with grey in his hair, not a boy whose black hair still looked too young against the firelight. His black jacket fluttered behind him as he walked past the scattered Suna nin. When the light from a nearby explosion caught the fabric mid-billow, he looked just like a character from one of those old war stories her grandfather used to tell. A silhouette standing tall against the ruin, looking completely untouchable.

Except Hashirama's stories always had grown men in them. Legends with decades behind their names.

This was just a teenager. Her student. And he was walking forward while she stood behind him, protected.

He raised his fingers without a care in the world.

"Bang."

Three Suna nin to his left simply vanished into a roar of noise and heat. Shinji didn't even bother to look back. He just kept walking, his jacket still fluttering from the pressure of the blast, and he raised his fingers again.

"Bang."

A chunin to the right who'd been mid-handseals stopped being mid-anything. The explosion took him and the two trees behind him.

She should have been thinking about what it cost a person to do this at his age, what it meant, what it would do to him. But as she watched him stroll through the battlefield, snapping his fingers and watching the enemy burst apart ahead of him one after another, all she felt was safe.

It felt like standing behind Senju Hashirama.

That same unshakable warmth. That same certainty that nothing was getting past the person in front of her.

She'd been small when her grandfather was alive, too young to understand what he was, but she remembered the feeling. The world could be falling apart and it didn't matter, because he was there, and when he was there, falling apart wasn't allowed.

Shinji's back gave her that same feeling.

Tsunade looked at him and couldn't help but smile. Her grandfather really would've liked Shinji.

…

The breakout took less than an hour after that.

Shinji’s clones swarmed the Suna pursuit from every side, and whatever was left of their formation just fell apart. Some scattered, others tried to regroup, but most of them just ran for their lives, because when dozens of copies of the same person start detonating themselves in your general vicinity, running becomes the only idea your brain can produce. Tsunade understood the instinct. She'd been on the receiving end of enough explosions in her life to know that courage was a finite resource, and having clones detonate in your face drains it pretty fast.

Tsunade and Orochimaru finished off the stragglers while Shinji’s clones swarmed the rest, their numbers turning the retreat into a total rout. Dan and his remaining men didn't just sit back either, they jumped into the fray to make sure the path was clear. Once the last of the Suna nin vanished into the trees, the group finally took a second to breathe. They didn't just rush back though, Tsunade made sure they sat down to stitch up the worst of their wounds, closing one injury after another while the rest of them were still catching their breath.

They didn't make it back to the outpost until just before midnight, but the gates hadn't even fully opened before the shouting started. It was a total sea of noise, with voices from the walls and the courtyard all clashing together. "Tsunade-sama's back!" someone yelled, and then another voice joined in, "It’s the Black Death!", and then, the words that made the whole place absolutely lose its mind. "The Kazekage is dead!"

The cheering hit them like a physical wave. Shinobi who looked half-dead just minutes ago were suddenly on their feet, screaming and punching the air. One chunin on the wall started banging his kunai against the railing like it was a gong. Someone was crying, a lot of people were.

Tsunade watched it happen and knew a setup when she saw one. The news had arrived before they did, which meant someone in command had planned this for maximum impact. They’d timed the announcement to hit the second the assassination squad walked through the gates to boost morale as much as possible. She could practically see Shikaro Nara’s fingerprints all over it. That man understood that wars aren't won by killing alone, you have to make people believe the killing meant something, and belief takes a bit of staging.

She didn't love it, but she couldn't call it a bad move. Iwa was still breathing down their necks, and exhausted shinobi don't fight well on nothing. They fight well on hope. Shikaro had manufactured some, and she hated that it was working.

She glanced at Shinji. He had both hands up, waving at the crowd like a Daimyo on a parade float. The worst part was that the crowd was eating it up. She wanted to grab his cheeks and stretch them until his face looked like mochi, let the whole outpost see their hero then.

…

The sweet taste of fame they'd tasted at the outpost didn't last more than a fleeting moment. Sure, they'd killed the Third Kazekage and sent Suna running, but Iwa was still crawling all over their land. The warzone didn't care about their big win, it just kept demanding more lives. There wasn't any leisure to rest or even enjoy a decent meal because the next few days turned into nothing but a messy blur of blood, dirt, and a total lack of sleep.

Iwa had been pushing hard from the northeast, poking at Konoha's lines with these annoying little strike teams that'd hit and vanish before anyone could even think about a proper response. Meanwhile, what was left of the Suna forces, leaderless and pretty desperate, had scattered all over the border. Some were giving up, some were fighting to the bitter end, but most were just trying to survive long enough to make it back to Wind Country.

Tsunade’s squad got thrown right back into the fray the morning after they returned. Since Suna was basically out of the picture now, Konoha finally had the upper hand against the Iwa forces. Instead of just desperately trying to hold a crumbling line, they were the ones pressing the advantage. She spent the next three days moving through the front like a whirlwind, sealing up wounds and making sure their momentum didn't slow down for even a second.

It’s a lot easier to keep that pace when you aren't constantly looking over your shoulder. At least she had a proper squad this time. Command had finally filled their ranks with some fresh jonin from the garrison, and Shinji had somehow managed to talk his way into handpicking several of the additions.

She'd noticed it right away. Mikoto Uchiha, Tsume Inuzuka... even a few of his Academy senpai who were chunin now. He’d clearly pulled every string he could find to fill the roster with people he trusted, and while the list wasn't exactly long, she really appreciated the effort he’d put into bringing her brother along.

Nawaki was practically vibrating out of his sandals when he found out Mikoto was joining them. He spent the first hour coming up with the most transparent excuses to stand near her while pretending he wasn't doing anything of the sort. It was honestly adorable, but also a bit painful to watch, since she already knew Mikoto only had eyes for Shinji, who was way too busy trying to charm his own sensei to even notice. Thinking about that whole love triangle for more than three seconds gave her a genuine headache.

And speaking of Nawaki, she really owed Shinji for that, too. Her brother hadn't stopped talking since they’d reunited, constantly telling stories about Shinji’s clones who’d been hanging around him throughout the war. He said they’d just "happen" to show up during his shifts, tag along on his patrols, and always be nearby whenever things got hairy. Nawaki thought it was just a coincidence, or maybe that the clones just liked his company because he was fun to be around. He had no idea. He didn't realize those clones were there for one reason and one reason only, because he was her brother, and Shinji had decided that was enough of a reason to keep him breathing.

Shinji never once brought it up. He never mentioned it, never asked for a "thank you," and didn't even drop a hint. But Tsunade didn't believe in coincidences, and the fact that her brother did, made her want to sigh. Any genin with half a brain would have figured it out in a day. Nawaki had spent the entire war surrounded by clones and still thought they just liked him.

And that was just the stuff involving Nawaki. Across the rest of the front, it felt like Shinji was literally everywhere. With Shikaro Nara calling the shots, Konoha had finally stopped just playing defense and started rolling the enemy back piece by piece, and Shinji's clones were the exact pieces Shikaro loved to move the most.

It was almost scary how well they fit into the plan. They’d hit flanks before Iwa could get organized, cut off retreating squads before they could find a place to regroup, and dragged wounded Konoha nin back to the rear before they could finish bleeding out. She’d be busy stitching up a chunin with half his shoulder missing, only to see three of Shinji’s copies sprint past her with another casualty between them. Then, an hour later, she’d catch one of them in a heated argument with a quartermaster about ration distribution.

Sometimes she wanted to crack his skull open just to see what was going on in there. Knowing him, though, it'd probably be the most confusing brain yet.

…

Forty kilometers northwest of Tsunade, Inoichi Yamanaka was bleeding behind an overturned wagon with his arm draped over the one person he'd never expected to die next to. Kana Yamanaka, his clan's pick for his future wife, a girl he'd spoken maybe forty words to before the war threw them onto the same squad, had his weight on her shoulder and hadn't let go in twenty minutes. His left leg was wrapped in a field dressing that'd already soaked through twice.

"They're actually pulling back," Kana whispered, her voice sounding a little light-headed. "I think... I think they're really retreating, Inoichi."

She had a nasty purple bruise blooming along her jaw and was covered in so much dirt that her blonde hair looked brown, yet she didn't budge an inch while holding up a guy twice her size.

Inoichi tried to shift his weight and immediately regretted it, sucking in a sharp breath as his leg flared with pain. "Is that a real retreat? Or are those Iwa bastards just circling around to finish us off?"

"No, they’re definitely gone. Every single chakra signature is heading northeast, even the ones that were right on top of us a minute ago," she explained. She shook her head, finally letting out a shaky, relieved breath that she’d clearly been holding in. "They had us completely surrounded. We were basically finished, and now they're just... walking away? It doesn't make any sense."

Before he could even process that, a huge roar came from the south. For a second, it was just a mess of people yelling over each other. Then the same words kept popping up again and again.

"The Kazekage is dead!"

The two of them just stared at each other, both too stunned to say anything. The cheering kept rolling in like a massive wave, swelling through the forest until the words didn't even matter anymore. It was just the beautiful, raw noise of people realizing they weren't going to die today.

Kana looked down and seemed surprised to find her hands were shaking. She tried to squeeze them into fists to make them stop, then just gave up and let them tremble against his vest.

"Hey," she said, her voice small and wobbly. She looked up at him, like she needed him to say it first before she could believe it. "Inoichi... that's not just a dream, right? We're actually going to be okay?"

He looked over at her, his own eyes beginning to sting. Her lip was shaking, but she was wearing the biggest, most genuine smile he'd ever seen, even with the tears carving tracks through the dirt on her cheeks.

His clan had picked her for him, and he'd never once thought about her as anything more than an annoying obligation he'd eventually have to deal with. But right now, filthy and crying, she was genuinely beautiful. He had no idea how he'd missed it before.

"Yes," Inoichi choked out, his throat feeling like it was full of dry sand. He reached out with his good arm, pulling her slightly closer until her forehead dropped against his shoulder. "It’s really over, Kana. We’re going home."

…

All across the front, the exact same scene was playing out in so many different spots. Konoha shinobi who'd been fighting for days without sleep, who'd watched friends die and kept going because stopping meant dying too, were hearing the same words drifting through the trees. Some sat down. Some cried. Some just stood there, staring at nothing, waiting for someone to tell them it wasn't real. Nobody did, because it was.

Not far away, Tsunade was elbow-deep in a field surgery, a chunin with shrapnel lodged in his body, when a familiar presence dropped down beside her. She didn't look up, because her hands were busy and the chunin's liver was more important than conversation, but she felt Shinji kneel down and start feeding chakra into the wound site without being asked. His control slotted right into hers smoothly and she let him take over the bleed suppression so she could focus on extraction.

"You know, for someone who’s supposed to be resting, you’re surprisingly good at finding more work to do," she remarked.

Shinji just let out a soft chuckle. "And here I thought I’d get a 'thank you' for coming to help my favorite sensei. Besides, I figured you’d be lonely without me here to make sure you don’t overwork yourself."

"I’m doing just fine, though I won’t turn down the extra set of hands," she replied, her eyes briefly flicking toward him before returning to the patient. "But if you’ve got enough energy to tease me, you should've been sleeping."

"I would've, but I brought some pretty big news that just couldn’t wait," he whispered, leaning in closer. "Iwa's finally pulling back."

He paused for a second, watching her hands remain perfectly still despite the bombshell he’d just dropped. "What, no celebration? I expected at least a little bit of shock, sensei."

She exhaled slowly, her focus never wavering from the patient. "I’ll celebrate when I’m not busy saving a life, Shinji. Don’t tell me you ran all the way here just to pick on your sensei while her hands are full."

"Maybe a little bit," he admitted, dropping his voice as he got closer. "But honestly, I just couldn't stand the idea of you being stuck out here, hearing nothing but the sound of people groaning and bad news. I wanted to make sure you heard the good stuff from me, instead of finding out from some random runner three hours late."

Her hands didn't stop their work, but her eyes finally flicked sideways for a split second, searching his face for any sign that he was joking. "Wait, are you actually serious? You're not just saying that so I'll stop nagging you to go get some sleep, are you?"

"I wouldn’t joke about something like that, sensei," he promised, his lips pulling into a slight pout. "They started their retreat before dawn, their whole eastern line just got up and walked away. Onoki’s not stupid, you know? He probably figured out Suna’s already done for and didn't feel like being the last person left at the party.”

She let out a breath she hadn't even realized she’d been holding. "Do you really think he'll just walk away that easily?"

"Who knows what's going on in that old guy's head, but they're gone. I'm certainly not going to complain."

She looked down at the unconscious chunin on her table, then at the rows of wounded stretching out behind them in every direction. All those people. All still breathing.

So it's actually over, she thought.

Shinji pressed his palm against the chunin's side, and the last of the wound knitted shut under green light. "Yeah, sensei. It's actually over." He leaned back and stretched his arms above his head, then glanced at her with that lazy half-smile. "Can't relax yet though. Now that the war's done, every tall guy with nice hair is gonna come crawling out of the woodwork to try and steal my favorite sensei away."

Her lips twitched, and she bit the inside of her cheek before flicking him on the forehead because he deserved it anyway.

"Ow! What was that for?" he complained, rubbing the spot.

"Nothing," she said, and ruffled his hair. "Good work."

Before she could pull her hand away, Shinji reached up and caught her wrist. "You know, sensei, I'm not exactly a kid anymore," he said, his voice dropping as he looked her in the eye. "You should probably stop treating me like one."

Tsunade blinked, but before she could retort, he let his fingers slide down from her wrist slowly until they were locked with hers in a proper, firm hold. The sudden heat of his palm caught her completely off guard, sending a flustered wave rising from her chest to the tips of her ears.

"Hey," she stammered, her face warming as she instinctively tried to pull her hand back. "Let go! What are you doing?"

He didn't budge, his grip staying firm but gentle as he gave her that lazy, knowing half-smile.

"Shinji, seriously," she hissed, glancing around frantically at the patients around them. "People are everywhere... they might be watching us. Let go already!"

"Let them watch," he replied softly. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, though his bravado wavered just a bit when he noticed her free hand wasn't just hanging there anymore, it was balled into a very familiar, very threatening fist.

Wisely deciding not to find out exactly how much of a punch she was packing while she was this flustered, he gave her fingers one last squeeze and let go before she actually had to use it.

…

Shinji wasn't just messing with her this time. Far beyond the camp, the scouts' signal flares had already popped against the sky. The sensor units were reporting a total blank, those constant, headache-inducing chakra signatures that'd been hanging over them for weeks were just... gone. It wasn't some trick or another feint. That massive, silent void meant Iwa's main force was finally pulling out of the Land of Fire for good.

Tsunade let out a long, heavy sigh. Honestly, the way this war started and ended was enough to make anyone’s head spin. One day they were right in the thick of the fighting, and the next, they were just... clearing bodies and counting who was still around.

Konoha had already sent out orders to start rotating units back home, leaving just enough people to hold the outpost until the ceasefire was official. Since her squad had basically carried the western front on their backs, between the assassination and their massive contribution to ending the conflict, they were among the very first names on the list to head back.

But before they could even pack their gear, she had to deal with the fact that her student had suddenly become the biggest celebrity in the outpost.

It started with a jonin who’d been pulled from a collapsing line by three of Shinji’s clones, he actually stopped the kid outside the mess tent just to shake his hand. Then, during breakfast, a chunin bowed so low her forehead nearly smacked the table. And then a medic-nin showed up just to say that Shinji’s clones had carried his wounded teammate seven kilometers through enemy territory to save his life. He kept going on about how he’d never forget it and how if Shinji ever needed a favor—

It just didn't stop. Every single time Tsunade turned her head, there was someone new thanking him, bowing, or just staring at him like he was some kind of hero sent from above.

And the worst part? Shinji was absolutely eating it up. He was waving back, tossing out those lazy grins, and even throwing in a wink whenever he noticed the crowd was mostly girls. It was disgusting.

Aside from that, there was something else too, something she couldn't quite figure out. Every so often, Shinji would catch her eye and his expression would shift from that playful arrogance to a look that was almost... apologetic. He'd mumble things about being sorry for stealing the 'Sannin' title away from her, or how the world would never know the legend of the Sannin because of him. He’d talk about how the legend would remain buried for eternity and apologize for 'stealing her thunder.'

She always gave him a completely confused look whenever he started on those tangents. Sannin? Thunder? What on earth was he talking about? They were strange words and terms she'd never heard in her life. But whenever she tried to press him for a clear answer, he just gave her one last sorry look before making an excuse and leaving her standing there, more baffled than ever.

In the end, she just shook her head and decided to stop overthinking it. Trying to understand the weird gears turning inside Shinji's head was a losing game, and she had enough on her plate without playing detective for his cryptic nonsense.

The next morning, their departure from the outpost was anything but quiet. As the squad made their way toward the main gates, a sea of shinobi lined the path, waving and cheering with enough sheer stupid joy to wake the dead.

Tsunade watched from the corner of her eye as Shinji kept up his "hero of the hour" routine, returning every shout with a confident wave or a playful grin that seemed to drive the crowd even wilder.

It wasn't until they finally left the outpost behind and the forest swallowed the noise of the base that his shoulders finally dropped.

By the time they set up camp for the night on the road to Konoha, Tsunade couldn't help but smile as she looked around the campfire. The war was finally behind them, and for the first time in forever, she could actually breathe without feeling like she was waiting for the next disaster. Tsume, Mikoto, and Nawaki were currently busy devouring what could only be described as wilderness-gourmet. Leave it to Shinji to turn basic rations into a feast that'd put a high-end Konoha restaurant to shame.

Then she glanced at the chef himself.

Shinji was staring into the flames, all that earlier brightness gone from his face.

"What's with the face?" she asked. "Missing the crowd already? Five minutes without people cheering your name got you down?"

Shinji let out a long sigh. "No, sensei. It's just... today has been absolutely exhausting."

"Exhausting? Wasn't it you who was enjoying every single bit of that newly found fame earlier? I'm pretty sure I saw you winking at a group of girls just for breathing in your direction."

"He totally was!" Nawaki chimed in between mouthfuls of food. "I saw a chunin basically turn into a puddle because Shinji remembered her name. It was honestly kind of gross."

Mikoto giggled, daintily wiping her mouth. "You looked like you were having the time of your life, Shinji. I thought we'd have to hire a bodyguard just to keep the crowd back."

"Okay, look, it was fun for the first few hours," Shinji admitted. "Getting a 'thank you' feels great, don't get me wrong. But it gets old real quick when you can't even go to the bathroom without someone bowing at you. I just want to eat my soup in peace."

Tsunade let out a short, bark-like laugh. "Well, you better enjoy this quiet night while you can, because this isn’t going away anytime soon."

Shinji looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"The village has definitely been notified about the victory by now," she explained, her grin widening. "And trust me, word travels fast. By the time we hit those main gates, every civilian and shinobi in Konoha is going to be waiting for a glimpse of the boy who ended a war. You're going to get the full, overwhelming hero treatment."

Shinji let out a low groan, dropping his head onto his hands. "Oh no... I can already picture the sight. Banners, cheering, and even more bowing. Can we just hop over the wall and pretend we're not home?"

"No chance," she said, feeling a bit of playful revenge for his earlier smugness. "You earned it, so you're going to stand there and take those flowers like a professional."

"I’d rather take an S-rank mission," he muttered, picking up a twig to poke at the embers. "At least an angry missing-nin doesn't try to hug you or ask for your autograph on their bandages."

"Oh, poor little hero," Tsume barked with a grin, leaning over to nudge him hard with her elbow. "If you're that stressed about it, I'm sure Mikoto here would be happy to shield you from the scary civilian girls."

Mikoto’s face went pink, but she didn't look away. "I think he'll manage fine, Tsume. Though, if the crowds get too thick, we could always tell them he’s actually a shadow clone and the real one is already back at his apartment sleeping."

"Or on another mission," Tsume added, laughing. "He's such a workaholic, they'd totally believe it."

Nawaki let out a spirited laugh. "Let them cheer! Honestly, seeing everyone go crazy for you just makes me even more pumped. I just got promoted to chunin, but I'm not stopping there. Watch out, Shinji, because if my best friend is going to be a hero, then I’ve got the perfect rival to chase on my way to becoming Hokage!"

Tsunade leaned back, her gaze lingering on her brother’s wide, toothy grin. It was a relief that was hard to put into words, just seeing him standing there in one piece after everything they’d been through. Knowing he had made it through the worst of the war without losing that stupid grin made the knot in her chest finally loosen.

But as she chewed, her mind suddenly drifted back to the battlefield, specifically to the dozen or so shady things she’d seen her troublemaker student do. Between the weird jutsu he’d pulled out of nowhere and the way he started acting all suspicious and shifty the moment she eyed him too closely, she had enough questions to fill a library. She opened her mouth to start the interrogation, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him, but then she caught sight of Nawaki and the girls watching them.

She huffed, swallowing her food instead of her questions. Prying into his secrets while the whole squad was listening probably wasn't the best move.

‘I’ll let it slide for tonight,’ she thought, leaning back and watching him poke at the fire. ‘He's not going anywhere, and we’ve got plenty of time back home for me to grill him properly.’

"Wait, why the scary eyes?" Shinji asked, his smirk faltering as he caught her intense stare. "I haven't even done anything weird this time.”

"Just eat your soup, hero," she said, giving him a look that promised a very long conversation in the near future. "You're gonna need the energy."

…

They arrived at Konoha the next morning, and it was the outpost all over again. The moment they stepped through the gates, the air was filled with cheers, flying flowers, and people calling out Shinji's name until her ears started to ring. After the official greeting, they were whisked away to a hotpot celebration at a yakiniku restaurant, hosted by the senior jonin who wanted to toast the team that had basically ended the war.

By the time the last plate was cleared and the rowdy laughter finally died down, the table was just a mess of empty small plates and cooling coals. Tsunade stood up, brushing a few stray crumbs off her lap, and offered a polite nod to the senior jonin.

"Thanks for the meal. It's been way too long since I’ve sat around and just listened to someone else's stories like this." she said.

"Don't mention it, Hime," one of the grizzled veterans laughed. "To be honest, we're the ones who should be thanking you. Things were looking pretty dicey in the northern forest until your student decided to pull that miracle out of his pocket. The kid's a monster, but he's got a good head on his shoulders. You must've worked him pretty hard to get him that sharp."

"He's certainly a handful," she replied with a faint smile.

"Handful or not, you taught him well," another jonin chimed in with a wink. "The way he moved, the way he led that charge... that's pure Senju discipline right there. You've got a lot to be proud of, Hime."

She turned a softer, but still firm look toward her squad. "Alright, you've heard enough flattery for one night. Go home and get some actual rest. You’ve earned a few days of doing absolutely nothing, so don't let me catch you training tomorrow."

She stepped outside, the cool night air hitting her face as the wooden porch slats creaked beneath her feet. Just down the road, Shinji and Mikoto were walking together under the vast, starlit sky. They were just walking side by side, not holding hands or doing anything special, and somehow that was enough to bother her. Tsunade leaned her shoulder against a support beam and watched them go. They really did look good together. It was a nice, simple picture, something should've been happy to see, yet she found herself staring until they'd disappeared into the shadows.

She eventually headed home, but sleep just wouldn't come. Every time she closed her eyes, her mind kept replaying the same loop. She saw Shinji's face in the middle of a messy battlefield, then that bright smile of his during the celebration, and finally his back beside Mikoto’s as the two of them disappeared down the road. After an hour of tossing and turning until the sheets were a total mess, she finally gave up. She threw on her coat and headed back out toward the hospital.

She needed the familiar, sterile smell of medicine and a stack of paperwork to bury herself in, anything to clear her head from the mess that was her relationship with her student. It was getting harder to ignore.

If only he'd stop chasing her and just focus on Mikoto. They were the same age, they made sense together. It’d make her life so much easier if he’d just stay in the role of a student. But it didn't help that her opinion of him had increased exponentially during the war. He wasn't just a cheeky boy anymore, he was a man who had carried the war on his back. That shift made her feel more conflicted than ever, leaving her staring at a medical chart without seeing a single word, completely unsure of what to think.

A few hours into her late night work, a sharp tapping sound against the glass made her jump nearly out of her skin. She whipped her head around, only to see a familiar, grinning face peering through the hospital window.

She stared at him in disbelief before slamming the window open. "Shinji! What on earth are you doing? This is the third floor!"

"I know," he said, casually pulling himself over the ledge and hopping into the office like it was his own living room. "The front door is a bit too crowded tonight, and I really didn't want the receptionist asking for my autograph."

Tsunade rubbed her temples, letting out a long, weary sigh at his sheer proactiveness. "You were supposed to be home resting. Why are you out climbing hospital walls at three in the morning?"

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted, his smile softening as he leaned against her desk. "My brain wouldn't shut up, so I went to find you. When you weren't home, I guessed you might be here hiding behind a mountain of paperwork. Looks like I was right."

"I'm not hiding, I'm working," she countered, though her heart wasn't really in the lie. She looked up at him, noting the way the moonlight caught his eyes. "And you should be in bed. You’ve done enough for ten shinobi this week."

"And you've done enough for twenty," Shinji pointed out, reaching over to gently tap the medical chart she'd been staring at. "You haven't flipped the page in ten minutes, sensei. Your eyes are glazed over."

She felt a flush creep up her neck. "I was... analyzing the data."

"Right. Analyzing the blank white margins," he said, teasing her as he pulled a small, still-warm paper bag from his cloak and set it on the desk. "I figured if you were going to be stubborn and stay up all night, you might as well have some decent snacks. They're those chestnut sweets you like."

She looked at the bag, then back at him, her internal conflict churning. He was being so incredibly thoughtful, so attentive, that it made all her logical arguments about Mikoto and their age gap feel like they were made of sand.

"You're a nuisance," she whispered, though she reached for the bag anyway.

"I'm your favorite nuisance," he corrected, giving her a lopsided smile. "Now, move over. If you're going to stay here, I'm at least going to make sure you actually finish 'analyzing' that very important data so you can go home before the sun comes up."

She could only roll her eyes at him, but she didn't push him away. Instead, she let him pull up a stool to help with the mountain of chores. Just because the war ended, it didn't mean the work was done and forgotten. On the contrary, she had a staggering pile of responsibilities waiting for her.

She had to file after-action medical reports covering casualty numbers, supply usage, and treatment outcomes from the field. Then there was the inventory on exactly what medical supplies had been consumed and what needed restocking immediately. Even with her sensei back in the village and stable, the fact that he was still unconscious meant she couldn't take it easy. If anything, her workload had multiplied.

Between contacting command staff to hand off ongoing patient cases from the field to the permanent Konoha Hospital staff and reviewing the status of wounded shinobi evacuated ahead of them, she felt like she was drowning. And she knew that by morning, she’d be pulled into endless meetings about post-war medical policy. As the best medic in the village, they wouldn't let her rest for a second.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling the exhaustion settle deep into her bones. She took a breath to clear her mind and dove back into the records, only this time, she wasn't doing it alone.

She was genuinely surprised by how helpful he actually was. She watched him work through the piles of casualty lists and supply logs, his hands moving through the records as he cross-referenced names and dates without needing to ask her for direction. It made her wonder idly if the academy curriculum had changed recently to include logistics, or if he'd simply figured out the filing system on his own.

Though she had to correct him on a few small mistakes here and there, having him there made the heavy silence of the hospital office feel much more bearable.

The hours ticked by, and as the moon climbed higher, Shinji clearly began to grow restless. His focus started to drift from the rows of numbers, and he began leaning in closer, supposedly to check a figure on her page. It didn't take long before she noticed his fingers beginning to wander away from the paperwork and toward her hand resting on the desk.

"Eyes on the inventory, Shinji," she muttered, lightly slapping his hand away.

"I am looking at the inventory," he insisted, though he didn't pull back very far. "I just think your handwriting is getting a bit shaky. I was going to reach over and stabilize your grip so the ink doesn't smudge. You can't have the village's best medic turning in messy reports, can you?"

"If my grip gets any more 'stable,' it'll be because I've grabbed you by the collar and tossed you through that window. Keep your hands to yourself and finish that supply log. We aren't here to play."

"We aren't playing, sensei. I’m just looking out for my favorite doctor," he teased, his fingers grazing her wrist as he reached for a fresh ink bottle. "Your hands have been working non-stop. I bet they’re cramping up. Here, let me help."

Tsunade let out a soft huff, but she didn't pull her hand back. She shifted slightly, giving him just enough space. "Fine, but keep it professional. If you start slacking on those records, the massage is over."

They tried to return to the documents, but Shinji clearly had other priorities. Under the guise of a therapeutic touch, he gently took her free hand, his thumb circling her palm far too leisurely to be strictly medical.

Tsun-tsun, he kept playfully poking and kneading the soft space between her fingers, a rhythmic, teasing touch that made her skin tingle.

‘Wait a second,’ she thought, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the side of his head. ‘This isn't a massage. He’s definitely just trying to take advantage of the situation!’

She knew she should probably pull away or give him a piece of her mind, she was his Sensei, after all. But for some reason, her hand stayed right where it was. She told herself it was fine. He'd worked himself to the bone helping with the war effort, so if he wanted to act like a spoiled brat for a few minutes, she could overlook it as a reward. It wasn't like she actually enjoyed the warmth of his hand or anything like that.

Seeing she hadn't pulled away, Shinji grew bolder. He slid his hand fully against hers, lacing his fingers through her own until he had her hand completely enveloped.

"Shinji, that’s enough," she managed to say. It came out more like a breathless huff than a command. "That's not where the pressure points are."

"Isn't it? I’m just making sure the circulation is perfect. It’d be a disaster if the village’s greatest healer got a cramp, right?" He gave her hand another gentle, firm squeeze. "Besides, your skin is way too soft. It’s actually quite relaxing for the person giving the massage too. Think of it as mutual therapy."

"You've got a lot of nerve calling this therapy," she grumbled, her face heating up. She could feel the warm thrum of his pulse against her skin, and her own heart gave a treacherous, heavy thud in response. He was definitely pushing his luck.

He leaned in a little closer, his shoulder almost brushing hers. "Just a few more minutes. You wouldn't want to ruin the flow of the treatment, would you, Sensei?"

Tsunade couldn't even find a comeback for that. His fingers slid deeper between hers, way too suggestive for a public office. Each slow, deliberate shift made her breath hitch in her throat. She could feel the heat radiating from him, and his thumb brushing the center of her palm was starting to make her knees feel weak. It was getting hard to remember why they were even in this room.

He didn't pull back. If anything, he leaned into her space until she could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear. It was way too close, and all she could focus on was the way his damp palm slid against hers.

Just as her eyes started to flutter shut, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

Both of them jumped. Shinji instinctively let go of her hand as they both whipped their heads toward the door.

"Tsunade-sama?" a female voice called out from the hallway. "Pardon the intrusion, but is it alright if I come in? There's a guest here looking for you."

Tsunade’s heart hammered against her ribs as she looked at Shinji, then back at the door. "Wait just a minute!" she called out, her voice sounding far more breathless than she wanted. She leaned in, whispering urgently to Shinji. "Get out. Now. Use the window!"

Shinji could have easily slipped out the way he came, but he wasn't about to turn down such a rare chance to keep this momentum going. He could feel it; he was right on the edge of crossing that line, moving past the "student" label for good. He wasn't going anywhere.

"There's no time," he whispered back with a mischievous glint in his eyes that made her blood go cold. Before she could grab him, he dropped to the floor and scrambled under her wooden desk, disappearing into the shadows of the legroom.

Tsunade’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. "Shinji! What are you—"

"Tsunade-sama?" the voice at the door prompted again.

Left with no other choice and a war hero currently hiding between her knees, Tsunade smoothed out her coat, took a deep, shaky breath, and tried to look professional. "Come in!"

The door swung open, and the female assistant stepped aside to let a tall, silver-haired figure enter. "Hime, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important," a warm, melodic voice filled the room.

Under the desk, Shinji’s eyes narrowed. He recognized that "pretty boy" voice instantly. It was Dan. The audacity of this guy, showing up at the hospital office this late just to woo his sensei. He felt a sudden, fierce urge to reach out and kick the guy right in the balls, but he forced himself to stay still.

“That’s fine, thank you.” Tsunade said, her voice jumping a little as she felt Shinji shift position under the desk. She gave the assistant a shaky smile. "Why don't you go see if the head nurse needs help with the evening rounds? I'm sure they could use an extra hand."

“Understood. I’ll head over there right away, Tsunade-sama.” The assistant said with a polite bow.

The door closed with a soft click, leaving Tsunade alone in the room with two most popular pretty boys. One was standing right in front of her with a charming smile, and the other was currently stuffed between her legs under the table, breathing hot against her knee and clearly trying very, very hard not to move.

Tsunade felt a bead of sweat roll down her temple.

For the first time that night, she honestly had no idea which boy she wanted to strangle more.