STIN: Chapter 68/70

Chapter 68: Danzō’s Boiling Point

"Messenger!"

Danzō's voice was hoarse and filled with fury.

"Immediately! Right now! Tell Tsunade to get herself over here, now!"

He nearly roared the words, releasing all the frustration that had been suffocating him for days.

The messenger flinched under the weight of his anger, standing rigid.

"Y-Yes, Danzō-sama!"

He stumbled out of the tent, almost tripping as he sprinted toward the medical camp.

Danzō slumped heavily into his chair, eyes shut, chest heaving.

Perhaps it was for the best that Tsunade had been away.

At least he didn't have to see her basking in praise every day, surrounded by gratitude at the medical camp, while his pride burned in silence.

He knew perfectly well that once she left, the casualty numbers on the frontlines would soar.

The medical corps relied on her completely.

But so what?

If soldiers died by the hundreds, that would be Hiruzen's fault for recalling her, not his.

Accountability?

Let the Hokage bear it.

His gaze fell on the intelligence scroll lying on the table, a report from the Root.

The name written there, Kamiyama Ryo, gleamed in his mind like a poisoned blade.

Outside, the rain kept pouring, beating against the thin canvas roof like a war drum, relentless and urgent.

The sound drowned out the restless anger and venomous thoughts twisting in Danzō's chest.

The air inside the tent was colder and heavier than the storm outside.

A guard's cautious voice came from beyond the curtain.

"Danzō-sama, Tsunade-sama has arrived."

Danzō drew in a deep breath, forcing down the rage that threatened to boil over.

Not yet.

It isn't time yet.

The Hokage's seat is still out of reach.

Tsunade… I can't afford to make her my enemy now.

I still need her, or at least, I can't afford to make her an obstacle.

Tsunade pushed the curtain aside and stepped in.

Her green medical vest carried the scent of herbs and dust, mixed with the damp chill of rain.

The smell cut through the stuffy air inside the tent.

Her golden hair was tied loosely, slightly disheveled.

Her sharp eyes swept over the shattered sand table and Danzō's darkened face.

"If you have something to say, say it fast. The medical camp is full of men waiting for stitching and detox. I don't have time for politics."

Her tone was edged with irritation.

She was exhausted and had no patience left for this old man's ideals.

Danzō's face remained unreadable.

He tossed a scroll onto the desk in front of her.

The motion carried a trace of suppressed anger.

"The village's order. Tsunade, you are to return to Konoha immediately."

Tsunade's brows furrowed.

She didn't even glance at the scroll before glaring at him.

"Immediately? Has that old man lost his mind? Does he even know what the situation is out here? Chiyo's poisons evolve every day. The medical tents are filled with comrades hanging between life and death. If I leave, how many will die by tomorrow?"

Her voice rose sharply, cutting through the heavy air like nails striking wood.

To her, as a doctor, the lives of the wounded always came before politics.

If it had been any other time, Danzō would have lectured her about the greater good, the cruelty of the ninja world, or the necessity of sacrifice.

He might even have called her compassion a weakness.

But right now, his anger over the intelligence report and his resentment toward Hiruzen's orders were twisting inside him.

"The command is right there," Danzō said coldly, his tone like steel scraping ice.

"I'm only delivering it. It bears the Hokage's seal, Hiruzen's personal stamp. You will comply, or not?"

He deliberately emphasized the words Hokage and Hiruzen, reminding her of authority and washing his hands of responsibility.

His eyes seemed to say, This isn't my doing. If you have a problem, take it up with the Hokage. If you dare.

Tsunade's hand clenched into a tight fist, her knuckles whitening.

She snatched up the scroll and unrolled it quickly.

There was nothing but a terse recall order, no explanation, no reason.

A chill crept into her chest.

Not directed at Danzō, but something deeper, instinctive.

The last time she had felt this way was right before her second grandfather, Tobirama, fell in battle.

Her instincts had never been wrong.

The fury in her eyes slowly faded, replaced by a sharp urgency.

Konoha is in danger.

A major danger.

Something grave enough that she was needed immediately.

That certainty overrode everything else, even her medical duty.

Tsunade drew a deep breath, steadying herself.

"Fine. If it's an emergency summons from the village, I'll leave at once."

"But," she said sharply, her eyes blazing, "I'm taking all critically injured soldiers who need long-term treatment. I won't leave them here to die."

"I'll compile all antidote inventories and suppressant formulas before I go. The medical squad can hold against Chiyo's poisons for a while, but remember, they can only suppress them, not cure the new strains. Tell the frontlines to minimize assaults and avoid unnecessary casualties."

"And one more thing."

She walked to the table, grabbed a blank scroll, and began writing swiftly.

"This contains my research notes on Chiyo's toxins and the framework for potential counteragents. It's the medical unit's final fallback plan."

Her thoughts were sharp and orderly, her battlefront experience condensed into clear directives.

Danzō listened in silence, his expression blank.

He knew she was right.

This was the best possible course.

Taking the worst injured back reduced losses.

Leaving behind antidotes and plans stabilized morale.

Maintaining communication ensured continuity.

He wanted desperately to keep her here, healing his men and strengthening his command.

But Hiruzen's recall order, and the disturbing report about Ryo, left him no choice.

If he tried to stop her now, morale would collapse, and Tsunade's backlash could destroy him.

"Understood," he said through clenched teeth.

He knew her worth, and he hated that he had to let her go.

"Hmph."

Tsunade didn't bother with another word. She gathered her notes and scrolls, turned sharply, and strode out into the rain.

Her footsteps faded into the storm and the distant cries of the wounded.

The tent fell silent again, the air heavier than before.

Danzō stood motionless, staring after her, his face unreadable.

With Tsunade gone, the frontline would bear even greater strain.

And in Konoha, Hiruzen, and that cursed "super weapon" that should have been his, Kamiyama Ryo.

The intelligence report echoed in his mind.

["A mental energy output covering two-thirds of Konoha. Power approaching Kage-level threat potential."]

Hiruzen, you old fool.

You hoard every treasure and dump every problem on the frontlines.

I drown in blood and mud while you sit in your office and hide a monster like this from me?

A long, ragged breath escaped Danzō's lips, thick with resentment.

He picked up the scroll about Ryo, his fingers tightening until the edges crumpled.

Outside, the rain kept falling, steady and suffocating.

He turned toward the sand table, staring at the blurred markings of Hill 3 through the damp haze.

The war continued.

Shimura Danzō would keep fighting in this swamp of blood and ambition.

And on the scales in his heart, the ones marked Hokage, a new, heavy weight named Kamiyama Ryo had just been added to Hiruzen's side.

That imbalance made the darkness in Danzō's eyes deepen even further.

(To be continued.)

Chapter 69: Late at Night, Did Kushina Come to the Door?

On the scroll of Hiraishin no Jutsu (Flying Thunder God Technique), the intricate and arcane spatial nodes stared back like a silent mockery at anyone trying to decipher them.

An S-rank kinjutsu was worthy of its name.

Without a solid foundation in fūinjutsu, attempting to anchor spatial coordinates was no different from throwing sand by hand in the middle of a storm.

To make up for lost time, he summoned dozens of Kage Bunshin at once. This kinjutsu demanded enormous chakra and a robust life force, but with his vast mental power and unusual physique, he could bear it.

The clones worked like a precision assembly line, efficiently parsing and memorizing the sigil schematics and energy node theory of Hiraishin.

However, committing it to memory was one thing. Putting it into practice was another.

The symbols on the scroll writhed and warped like living tadpoles.

Every step of sensing, anchoring, and phase shifting each spatial node jammed up against the same door, the one labeled "fundamentals of fūinjutsu."

The Uzumaki clan's fūinjutsu was the anchor that allowed Hiraishin to cross space. What he lacked was precisely that core.

"Efficiency is too low."

Ryo dropped the torn scroll pieces with a cold snap.

Tsunade would be returning soon, and his own deployment to the front drew closer by the hour. Before then, he had to master the core application of Hiraishin, not to become some fearsome wraithlike assassin like Namikaze Minato, but to reach any battlefield instantly and stand by Kushina's side, tearing apart any threat.

Long-distance, pure spatial jumps, as fast as possible.

Kushina's bright eyes flashed through his mind.

Right. The deep fūinjutsu foundation she had absorbed under Mito since childhood was the key to unlocking Hiraishin's threshold for him now.

Outside the old Senju residence, the great Hokage Rock loomed like a silent guardian. Ivy sprawled lush and green, crawling over the stone walls of the compound.

Ryo lifted his hand. Before his knuckles touched the old wooden gate, it creaked open a crack.

What peeked out was not the fiery, fluffy red hair he had expected, but a wary face.

"You again." Nawaki wedged himself in the doorway with a scowl, one leg subconsciously pulling back half a step. "Last time you broke two of my legs. The time before that you blew one off. Granny hasn't even settled accounts with you yet. You, you…"

His tone sounded less like pure anger and more like a picky little brother sizing up a future brother-in-law.

After all, the family had long tacitly accepted his relationship with Kushina. It was just that Ryo himself didn't seem fully adjusted to that shift.

Ryo's mouth twitched.

As for Nawaki's "blown off" leg, it had been a scrape from a seal tag he himself had set to detonate during extreme training.

The unlucky brat was just jumpy now about anything that came near him, classic paranoia.

"Move, Nawaki." Mito's aged yet steady voice carried through the courtyard. Nawaki pouted and shuffled aside.

Mito stood beneath a maple tree, her dark kimono giving her an unusually grave air.

"Ryo, for Kushina's safety, she cannot go out these days and cannot receive visitors." She looked at him and got straight to the point. "You came for fūinjutsu. You want to learn."

Ryo nodded, concise and direct. "I need it for Hiraishin."

Mito's clouded but still keen eyes paused on his face for a moment, then softened with understanding.

"You can." She turned the subject at once, gesturing to a neat row of rooms along the west side of the yard and handed him a key with an old wooden tag. "You can only study here. Move in."

The key sat heavy in his palm. Ryo asked nothing else.

Kushina was grounded, and a sudden weight in Mito's voice had leaked through for just an instant.

It was like the last tide at dusk, surging and then receding, carrying an unspoken sense of something about to fade away.

He did not say it aloud.

Uzumaki Mito, the First Hokage's widow who had once shaken the world, did not have much time left.

Kushina was the successor she had nurtured with everything she had.

Keeping him here made it convenient for him to learn fūinjutsu, and it also added a reliable layer of protection for Kushina during a critical period. The calm arrangement felt like a silent entrustment.

"Mm." He inclined his head again.

Nawaki nearly jumped. "Granny, he's moving in? If he moves in, can my legs even survive?"

Mito gave her grandson a flat look. "If you break them a few more times, you will get used to it. Think of it as prewar rehearsal so you don't get blown to pieces for real later."

Nawaki's face collapsed at once, eyes flicking between Ryo and Mito with tragic resignation, especially regarding the future of his legs.

So, a special uninvited guest took up residence in the west wing of the Senju compound.

At dawn the next day, the atmosphere of fūinjutsu training in the guest room hardened to an almost solid intensity.

In the spacious room, he sat seiza.

Before him hovered a model of runes woven from chakra, packed tight and flickering with dim blue light.

A clone of Kushina sat across from him, trying hard to put on a strict little teacher act, explaining how to use chakra threads to precisely construct stable spatial restraint field nodes.

At Ryo's side, seven or eight of his own clones popped one after another into white smoke.

He kept his eyes shut, his brows knit tight.

On the screen of his mind, several basic spatial anchor models collapsed in succession, leaving ragged tears in space.

"Tch." The Kushina clone nearby couldn't help stamping her foot.

Even as a mouthpiece for the original, she could clearly sense Kushina's frustration and the obstacles in front of them.

"You. Your mental power is ridiculous, but your fūinjutsu basics are full of holes. You skewed the most basic spatial stabilization seal three times in a row. Learn Hiraishin?" She planted her hands on her hips, rattling off the kind of jabs the original would never say to his face. "That's like trying to build a castle in the sky without tamping the foundation. Dream on."

Ryo opened his eyes, silver light flowing in his pupils.

"The geometric optimum for node energy convergence." He pointed at the lingering afterimage of the collapsed model, laying out the same analysis.

The Kushina clone blinked, then rolled her eyes. "Idiot. The optimum alone is useless. Energy flow doesn't move in straight lines. You have to factor the node's own tolerance threshold and how chakra nature changes impact spatial stability."

As she spoke, she drew up pale-gold chakra and swiftly formed a more complex and precise three-dimensional model before him. Lines of script danced at her fingertips, weaving like living threads into a basic framework that looked intricate yet extremely stable.

"Look. This is the base structure that actually resists spatial shear. The one you made?" Her tone dripped with disdain. "Use that in real combat for Hiraishin, and the first spatial fold will blow you into paste."

The small clone pointed and lectured with the flair of a little empress of fūinjutsu.

She didn't notice that her expressions and gestures made Ryo momentarily see the original Kushina's usual hopping, tooth-and-claw demeanor.

"Continue." Ryo kept it brief and closed his eyes again.

More clones burst and reformed with rapid pops, plunging into the next round of even wilder simulations.

Weak fundamentals?

Then he would fill the gap by brute-forcing it with exceptional will and nearly inexhaustible mental power.

Meanwhile, in the adjacent room with only a thin wall between them, the real Kushina had cocooned herself in her blanket, rolling around like a shrimp tossed in a hot pan.

Her cheeks were so hot she could have cooked a pancake on them.

For all her solemn act when teaching through a clone during the day, her real thoughts were in chaos.

Mikoto's "dating upgrade guide," whispered to her in secret at the Hokage Building, echoed in her head like a bewitching mantra, looping nonstop.

"Create natural physical contact." "Nighttime, alone, just the right amount of care is the golden opportunity." "Take the initiative, but act casual."

He had moved in. Right in the next room, only a wall away.

"No no no."

Kushina shook her head like mad, trying to banish the thoughts painting her face crimson.

But that thunderous heartbeat wouldn't quiet down.

She recalled how Mito had suddenly become strict about her fūinjutsu training lately. She didn't know the specifics, but a faint, uneasy haze hung over everything.

Even so, another feeling quickly pushed that thought aside.

That big blockhead Ryo had been grinding ninjutsu all day, clones blowing one after another. He had to be exhausted at night.

Checking on his body and mental state was basic. Obviously.

Yes, it was simple concern. Pure concern.

Pumping herself up, Kushina sprang out of bed.

She fussed with her trademark red hair in front of a small mirror, then, after a moment's hesitation, took off her ordinary outerwear.

Underneath she wore only a close-fitting cotton short nightdress that fell to mid-thigh.

She nervously tugged the hem down, revealing straight legs wrapped in over-the-knee pure white stockings. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then tiptoed like a little cat thief to Ryo's door.

Holding her breath, she pressed an ear to the wood and listened carefully.

Inside, there was only the faint, low hum of chakra circulation.

Kushina's hand trembled as she carefully pulled the door open a crack and poked half her head inside.

Her cheeks were pink. Her voice was a mosquito's buzz, with a nervous tremor she couldn't hide. "Ryo, are you… still practicing?"

Ryo lifted his eyelids.

Those silver eyes looked especially deep in the dim light, like the deep sea.

In the doorway's shadow stood Kushina, freshly bathed.

A few damp strands of vivid red clung to her fair cheeks flushed with a rosy sheen.

The cool short nightdress fit with awkward shyness.

That strip of pure white just over the knees set off the slim, lively lines of her legs.

She was enveloped in a warm mist, fresh and dewy, carrying a clean, gentle sweetness.

"So late." Ryo's voice was steady as always, though his gaze lingered on her for a moment.

"Ahem." Kushina cleared her throat and forced herself to act composed as she slipped fully through the crack and gently shut the door behind her. Her heart pounded like a drum. "I, um, saw you… using clones so hard all day. You must be mentally spent. Do you want me to…"

(To be continued.)

Chapter 70: At Your Age?

Kushina's face grew redder as she spoke, and her voice grew softer.

"…I can massage your head. When I had headaches before, Grandma pressed here and it helped."

She looked up at Ryo, clutching the hem of her skirt with nervous fingers. Her sapphire eyes were bright with a mix of expectation and fluster.

Ryo's gaze passed over the tips of her reddened ears and her tense, intertwined fingers. He stayed silent for three seconds. The chakra that had been running fast in his body from working on Hiraishin settled slightly.

The faint scent of soap and herbs clung to the anxious girl.

He gave a low acknowledgment and let his body relax a fraction. It was tacit permission.

He was tired.

Breathing in Kushina's clean scent and that warm, familiar fragrance, a brief ripple of distraction passed through his chest.

Success.

Kushina lit up like a child who had sneaked a candy. She held down her excitement and quickly knelt beside his bedding.

Ryo turned his back to her.

She extended her small hands, fingertips a little cool, and carefully touched his temples. Feeling the warmth and firmness beneath her fingers, her hand trembled.

"Relax."

She muttered softly, imitating Mito's technique and doing her best to ignore the solid feel of muscle.

She pressed with the pads of her fingers, worried that too light would be useless and too heavy would be uncomfortable. Clumsy, but earnest.

Her warm fingertips worked at the acupoints. A few loose strands of hair brushed his neck as she moved, carrying the clean scent of soap and her own simple fragrance.

Ryo shut his eyes.

The jumbled symbols of the day receded.

Tense nerves began to loosen under the careful, cool touch.

A thread of odd comfort spread from his temples.

He leaned back the slightest bit, allowing her to draw a little closer.

Sensing his change in breathing, Kushina brightened.

Her courage grew.

She shifted a little closer, steady and focused.

"Here, and here. Grandma says this point helps the most." Her slender fingers, now warmer, moved from the temples to the back of his neck, searching out acupoints with care.

Each press, each brush of hair, dropped like pebbles into the calm lake of his mind, sending quiet ripples across the surface.

His clean scent mixed with the faint sweetness that was uniquely hers. Her heartbeat raced.

Time flowed by quietly.

Only their faint breaths sounded in the room.

After several days of this routine, she felt the timing was right. Following Mikoto's step-by-step advice had worked. The pace between her and Ryo had indeed warmed quickly.

Kushina's courage increased.

She rubbed her palms nervously against her skirt, took a deep breath, and, face flushed, patted her own knee.

"Hey." Kushina's voice suddenly sounded. With some hesitation and a bit of do-or-die resolve, she broke the warm quiet of the room.

She stopped her hands, cheeks burning hotter, and lowered her voice. "If you lie here, on my lap, it might work better."

Ryo paused for a moment at the suggestion.

Looking at the space she indicated, he exhaled once and shook his head without hesitation. "No. This is fine."

They had kept the massage routine proper these past few days. It helped him settle, and that was enough.

Kushina grew anxious at once. Her shyness flipped into determined insistence. "No. Try it. Grandma said it really helps you relax. Do you think I can't do it right?"

She rocked slightly, flustered but stubborn.

Ryo met her wide blue eyes, saw the look that said she would not let it go, and let his resistance drop.

He let out a small, almost inaudible sigh. "Suit yourself."

He adjusted his posture and relaxed his support so he could rest more comfortably.

Kushina straightened, steadying herself to support him. The weight was not light, but what she focused on was keeping calm and doing the technique correctly.

Kushina startled, then held herself steady.

Her heart pounded, embarrassment and nerves nearly overwhelming her. She almost moved away, but seeing his calm face with eyes closed, the impulse subsided.

Mikoto had said to hold steady.

For the effect, this much effort was worth it.

She urged herself on and focused.

Ryo felt the brief stiffness and the rise in her body heat.

Through the thin fabric, the contact point was warm. Her simple, clean scent wrapped around him and eased the last tightness from his thoughts.

Kushina took a deep breath, forced down the pounding in her chest, and continued.

A chance. Perfect timing.

She reached out again, fingers trembling slightly, and placed them carefully at his temples.

This time she did not hold back. Her fingertips pressed against warm skin with a measured, testing force and began to knead.

Her movements were still a little clumsy, but her focus was much sharper than before.

Her fingertips slid over the tense temporalis, adjusting pressure as she searched for the right points. Now and then a cool finger brushed his ear by accident.

A few strands of her red hair tangled around her fingers and swayed with the motion.

Each press made the muscle contours clearer under her touch. Each faint brush of hair seemed to speak quiet closeness.

She could feel the strong pulse beneath her fingers and his steady, long breaths, one by one, like beats landing on her heartstrings.

The tension beneath the quiet was more moving than any sound.

Kushina's face burned bright. Each accidental touch made her breath go thin and nervous.

In the room there was only Ryo's almost inaudible breathing and her own pounding heartbeat.

Moonlight fell through the window, tracing a soft halo along Ryo's calm profile and outlining Kushina's focused, shy expression.

The rare, warm stillness with its hint of innocence lasted a long time.

Perhaps only a quarter hour.

Then the door was yanked open with brute force.

The rough motion slammed it into the frame with a crash like thunder.

The air filled at once with the scent of battlefield smoke, bitter medicine, and harsh wind and dust. Along with it came a scorching gaze, full of restrained fury, pinning the room like a searchlight.

Tsunade was back.

She had been urgently recalled by Hiruzen earlier. Leaving the Hokage Building with a stomach full of frustration, she learned that Hiruzen had not consulted her about the Nine-Tails jinchūriki transition. He said it was better for Mito to tell her granddaughter herself. He left only a vague instruction for Tsunade to "clean up the mess" caused by Ryo.

Naturally, she assumed that was the entire reason she had been called back.

With nowhere to vent, she headed straight for the Senju residence.

Back home, she meant to ask Mito about Ryo in detail. But at this hour, Mito was already asleep, and Nawaki was out cold. Even so, Tsunade immediately caught a presence that was not family, one that was very familiar and made her angry, the culprit Ryo.

Her expression shifted again when she sensed a second, familiar presence in the same room.

At the doorway, Tsunade's blonde hair was a little mussed. Sweat beaded on her brow. Her eyes held both the fatigue of forced travel and the anger from being brushed off by Hiruzen.

When her gaze cut through the drifting dust and landed on the scene inside, she saw her little Kushina in a short cotton nightgown, arms and calves pale under the moonlight.

Her pupils tightened further at the sight of Kushina bowing her head with focused hands and a red face, her small palms working at Ryo's head.

That was not the main point.

The main point was that Ryo was resting comfortably while Kushina supported him.

Moonlight traced the outline clearly.

Kushina's face was red as a ripe tomato.

The air froze for an instant.

Kushina yelped like she had touched a hot iron. She snatched back her hands, pushed Ryo away in a panic, and sprang back. Her entire face went scarlet. She fumbled at her hem, trying to pull it down, and stammered, "Tsu, Tsunade-neechan, I, I wasn't, he, I was just, massage, Mikoto said, no, no…"

Her mind crashed.

Ryo steadied himself with one hand on the floor. He sat up, no embarrassment at being "caught," only slight irritation at being interrupted. He looked toward the doorway where a golden-haired figure radiated pressure.

Tsunade leaned on the frame with arms folded. Her gaze paused for a beat on the spot where Ryo had been resting, then lifted like a blade to Kushina's flushed face.

The anger from the Hokage Building evaporated. In its place rose something sharp and dangerous, a mix of fury and the mood of someone catching trouble in the act.

A slow, mischievous smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. It made Kushina's heart stop.

She drew out her words on purpose, her tone bright and teasing, each syllable landing like a hammer on Kushina's overloaded nerves. "Hey, hey, Kushina, little brat."

Tsunade tipped her chin and deliberately let her eyes sweep over Kushina's flat stomach, her smile turning even more "wicked." Her expression made it clear what she was implying.

"You are still so young." Her voice brimmed with pointed teasing. "If you ended up pregnant…"

Tsunade stretched the last three words long, the tail rising with mean amusement, like throwing a huge bomb into the silent room.

"Then I…"

She spread her hands, as if to say even the sky could fall and it would not be her problem. Her eyes flicked lightly over Ryo's calm face, then dropped hard back on Kushina, who wanted to sink through the floor. She spoke each word slowly. "Would not operate on you."

The words lit a fuse.

Kushina exploded, turning from a tomato into a shrieking steam engine, as if white steam really spouted from her head. "Tsunade-neechan, what are you saying! Idiot, idiot, big idiot! We did nothing. It was a massage!"

She stopped caring about anything else, clapped both hands over her burning face, and wailed with a thick fake-crying tone. She barreled past Tsunade at the door.

Tsunade stepped aside with interest.

Kushina scrambled out, hands and feet both working.

Her pounding footsteps boomed down the hall, mixed with muffled sobs of embarrassment and anger, each step like crushing what remained of her dignity.

Moonlight lay cold across the guest room.

Ryo stood up, composed as he straightened his slightly rumpled clothes, and adjusted his breathing.

Tsunade leaned against the frame, arms folded, that dangerous, amused smile still on her lips. Her eyes said, "Kid, not bad," as she looked him up and down.

Outside, Kushina's frantic running and choked cries faded at the end of the corridor.

The night felt like it had only just begun.

(To be continued.)