STIN: Chapter 18/20

Chapter 18: Appreciation

"This smell…" Tsunade twitched her nose, her throat moving involuntarily.

This simple, rough pickling method produced a domineering aroma that slammed straight into her appetite.

Ryo stayed in rhythm, roughly wrapping and pressing the kneaded slices of meat tight with large, clean leaves, then weighing them down with big stones.

The remaining strips of meat he salted evenly and hung aside.

His hands moved so fast they dazzled the eye.

After handling the raw meat, Ryo set up the old scrap-iron pot that could boil a whole pig, filled it with water, and tossed in a few smashed wild boar leg bones and meat scraps.

He then slipped into the small woods beside the house and, in a blink, returned with a handful of wild spring onions still beaded with dew, some old ginger, a few unknown wild fruits, and a cluster of umbrella-shaped wild mushrooms, which he tore and dropped into the pot.

A big flame leapt up. Gurgle, gurgle…

Soon, steam carrying rich bone aroma, the sharp bite of wild spring onions, and the earthy fragrance of mushrooms pushed back against the dominating spice of grilled meat, rising in wisps straight into their noses.

Tsunade finally straightened and paced over to the simple barbecue grill in the corner.

The fresh-lit charcoal crackled softly. She picked up two nearly two-meter-long homemade skewers and, with fluid ease, threaded thick-cut ribs and large slices of leg meat onto them.

Her technique was as natural as picking up a kunai.

Ryo glanced at her, said nothing, and accepted the "help."

All his focus was on filling the yawning emptiness left by being drained.

Thick cuts sizzled as the flames licked them.

Hot fat dripped onto the red charcoal, flaring into bluish-white tongues of fire.

Sizzle.

Ryo took several deep breaths of the supercharged aroma flooding the yard—the char of grilled meat, the mellow stew, heavy woodsmoke, pungent marinade. His exhausted spirit felt like it had been hit with a strong stimulant.

His eyes brightened, and the subtle soreness in his muscles seemed to ease under the assault of scent.

He fed the fire, turned the meat, and tasted the soup for salt. His hands were fast, precise, and steady, and a serious gourmet's aura settled over him.

When the first golden piece of grilled meat was torn off, blown on, and popped into his mouth, the crisp outside, tender inside, erupting juices, and bone-deep spice made him narrow his eyes in satisfaction. A low, contented sound rumbled in his throat.

Tsunade was even faster. She grabbed a perfectly grilled slice of leg meat, ignored the heat, and bit in.

"Mmm." Her eyes lit up. Rich juices and spice exploded across her tongue. The chew, paired with that domineering, layered flavor, was simple, primal, and completely satisfying.

"Tch. Kid, you've got real skill."

She unceremoniously grabbed a few more of the largest pieces, eating with oil on her lips, hearty as a tomboy.

Ryo, while shoveling calories into the void in his gut, neatly laid more raw slices onto the preheated stone slab.

The hiss of fat on hot stone, mixed with their chewing and swallowing, became the most harmonious music of the moment.

Tsunade cleared her plate like a whirlwind, then, still unsatisfied, turned to the extra-large bamboo bento box Ryo was portioning.

Watching him neatly layer the enticing slices, even picking out the best thick-cut chops to place on top before covering it with the big bamboo lid, she noted the amount was clearly more than a single serving.

"Hey." A sly smile crept onto her lips.
"What's with the extra? You cooking for an army?"

Ryo's hand paused on the lid.

His reply was flat: "Stockpile."

His hand, however, pulled the box closer.

That alone answered.

Tsunade's smile lingered, but she let it drop.

She walked to the stove and saw the milky-white bone broth rolling with steam, its rich scent hitting her straight on.

"This soup looks good too." She picked up a big, chipped sea bowl beside the stove and ladled it full without ceremony. Bones, wild spring onion segments, and mushrooms soaked in broth settled into the steaming bowl.

"Hey." Ryo's voice cut.

Tsunade ignored him, blew on the rim, and took a heavy gulp. "Phew, hot, hot. Mmm…" The soup slid down her throat, warmth followed by rich, melted depth.

The heavy bone aroma, mellow oil, sharp green freshness, wild mushroom umami, and a subtle sweet aftertaste from the wild fruits all popped in layers across her tongue.

A comfortable warmth spread from her stomach to her limbs.

"Ha. Refreshing." Tsunade wiped her mouth, heat and satisfaction tinting her face.

"Lady Tsunade." Ryo's expression didn't shift much, but a vein ticked at his temple.

"You came here to eat me dry and chatter like an old hag? That's the serious business?"

Tsunade chuckled at his irritation. She finished the last sip of soup and set the bowl on the stove with a crisp clack.

"Alright, enough jokes." She straightened, expression turning steady. "I did come with reason."

Ryo stared at her, waiting.

"First, I am here to thank you." Tsunade raised a slender finger at him, her tone firm. "Tonight, you brought Kushina home safely, and kept those brainless idiots from stepping on her again. You were quite heavy-handed, but as her sister, I appreciate the protection."

(To be continued.)

Chapter 19: Thanks?

"So you chased me out here and beat me up as a thank you?"

Ryo finally could not hold it in. His voice was edged with anger and absurdity, almost a roar.

He pointed at his mud-soaked clothes. "You beat me from one end of the forest to the other and nearly had me swallowed by a water dragon. Is this how you say thank you?!"

"Right. What else?" Tsunade raised an eyebrow, so righteous it made one want to spit blood. "Beat you, make you work, sweat a little. Is that not the most practical? Do you want me to bring you tea, bow, and say 'thank you'?"

She sneered. "Empty talk. A fight stretches your muscles, loosens your body. Didn't you notice how much sharper your movements got after the spar?"

She raised her chin, referring to Ryo's integration increase during the battle, eyes slightly teasing. "What? My 'thank you gift' was not hard enough? Not exciting enough?"

Ryo almost laughed at the nonsense.

"Alright then. Thanks for the… heartfelt thanks." He let the sarcasm bite.

"Second, I am testing you." Tsunade's voice turned serious. "It is no coincidence you can dominate the Ninja Academy. That 'thank you gift' was enough for me to measure your weight."

"The result?" Ryo met her gaze, cold and steady.

He did not need compliments. He wanted to know her aim.

"So-so." Tsunade gave a neutral verdict, tone flat, eyes sharp. "Your hard power is enough. Thick skin and raw strength. Your fighting style is rough, but there is real substance in your core. Those flexible sword moves do not look like something a brat should have, which is interesting. If I am not mistaken, you are barely passable, stuck at the threshold of Jōnin."

She paused, emphasizing, "Pay attention, barely. Your only edge is being tough and strong."

She took two steps and met Ryo's stubborn gaze. "Your swordsmanship looks crude, but it is blended with a fierce intuition honed through life-and-death fights. There is also a kind of… tsk, hard to describe, like the 'intent' that only a veteran soaked in the sword for decades can possess. It is still vague, like a bud. Boy, who taught you?"

The last question, probing and scrutinizing, went straight to the core.

Her eyesight was vicious.

Even if Shanks' experience was only integrated to 35 percent, that instinctive intent and flexible skill, forged by top masters, had begun to show.

"No one taught me." He sidestepped, voice cold and hard. "I figured it out. After chopping pigs enough times, it came naturally."

"Heh." Tsunade was unconvinced, but she did not press. She snorted. "Fine, I will treat you as a rare talent among wild butchers. But," she shifted without giving room to argue, "you only have stone-like strength and the reckless charge of a boar. Without someone to sharpen the diamond, you only become a better whetstone. You think you are strong? Not even close. If all you know is fighting, you will end up as emotionless fodder for Danzō."

At the mention of Danzō, a cold light flashed in Ryo's eyes.

"Kid," Tsunade walked up, close enough to see his bristling red hair, "someone thinks you are good material and wants me to take you as my apprentice and point you the right way." She leaned in slightly, pressure settling. "Do you know who?"

An image flashed in Ryo's mind, an old pervert with a crystal ball peeping in the office.

"…Hokage?"

"That is right. Sarutobi Hiruzen has taken a liking to you. He thinks you can inherit his Will of Fire." Tsunade straightened, a hint of teasing and pride in her tone. "However, if you want to be my disciple, the old man's recommendation and your bit of brute force are not enough."

She raised two fingers, passing sentence.

"First, meeting the power requirement is your ticket. That 'exam' was the entry ticket. You barely qualify for a second look."

"The second, and most important, rule," Tsunade's eyes turned needle-sharp, her voice dropping with unquestionable weight, "your temper, character, and mindset must pass with me. If you are a disciple who does not suit my taste, whether recommended by Sarutobi Hiruzen or the son of the Rikudō Sennin, get out."

In Konoha, no one could force Tsunade to accept someone she did not approve of.

Ryo stood there, wet clothes clinging, silent as stone. He looked at Tsunade, digesting it.

Hiruzen had high hopes and wanted to push him toward a bright path.

Danzō coveted him and wanted to drag him into Root.

Danger and opportunity, together.

"So," Ryo said, his voice back to its usual coldness, anger faded, "you came tonight to beat me as thanks and to test my strength. The Hokage asked you to take me as your apprentice. You felt I was 'barely' qualified, so you decided to observe first."

"Your little brain is sharp." Tsunade grinned with a hint of malicious admiration. "Half right. Besides what the old man said, there is Kushina."

She brought up Kushina again, eyes full of meaning. "That little girl treats you… ahem. Anyway, for Kushina's sake, I am giving you more 'testing.' Otherwise, do you think your crude sword and brute strength are worth me running through the Forest of Death at night and getting soaked?"

The corner of Ryo's mouth twitched.

Tsunade did not seem to notice his displeasure. She waved the meat in her hand and jumped topics like a shunshin. "Alright, reasons explained. This meat is my medical fee."

"Medical fee?" Ryo's tone sharpened, his eyes cutting to a piece of pork neck and the best leg meat she was lifting.

His forehead vein twitched.

He jabbed a finger at the creaking door.
"The door's there. I've had enough talk. I still need to train."

Tsunade paused, studying his face, then smirked. "Hahaha. Fine, fine. I'll go."

She knew her "thanks" and "test" logic was… unique.

Goal achieved. Time to leave.

She turned, scooped up the meat, and strode off. Under the moonlight, her back was crisp and neat.

Bang. The wooden door slammed shut with a heavy thud, echoed by the earth wall.

(To be continued.)

Chapter 20: Hiruzen's Plan

In the dead of night, the Hokage Office was dimly lit and filled with smoke.

Sarutobi Hiruzen, a pipe clamped between his fingers, was frowning at a scroll when the door groaned under an unbearable force and was kicked open with a clang.

The spark in the pipe jumped in surprise.

Tsunade strode in, bringing with her a strong aroma of meat and the chill of a dewy night.

In her left hand, she held a large, dark brown, glistening pork neck, stained with a few dried leaves. Thick sauce slowly dripped between her fingers. In her right hand, she casually clutched a scroll, its edge still smudged with dark red marks.

The Anbu on duty in the shadows by the door, intimidated by her violence, instinctively tensed as she passed.

"Old man!" Tsunade walked straight to the desk, her voice booming. With a pat, she threw the glistening roasted pork neck onto Hiruzen's document-strewn desk. The savory aroma instantly overpowered the smell of tobacco. "Still up this late?"

Hiruzen's gaze lifted from the well-worn pork to Tsunade's slightly disheveled outfit, its corners stained with grass and wet mud, then to her greasy, possibly blood-stained hands. His brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. "Oh? Coming to see me with such a grand display, what is it? …And this?"

"Ryo. Kamiyama Ryo." Tsunade wiped her mouth, as if still savoring the charred and tender aroma. "I just finished testing that kid." Her tone carried post-battle satisfaction. "Satisfied. Very satisfied. From now on, he is my official first disciple. I came specifically to let you know."

She did not shy away, explaining in a few words how she had a sudden whim to test the mettle of the guy Kushina and Nawaki had been talking about, how she disguised herself as Anbu to ambush him in the Forest of Death, how she used the kid as a punching bag until he broke his limits, and how she was "thanked," only to be conquered by his superb barbecue skills.

Hiruzen listened in silence, his pipe almost slipping from his hand.

He took a deep puff, choked, and his mouth twitched slightly. "Cough. So, you call this an assessment?"

He looked deeply at his disciple, his gaze a mix of empathy for his own teacher's headaches back then and helpless amusement. "Tsunade, your method of thanking someone when taking them as a student is a bit, cough." He gestured at Tsunade with the stem of his pipe. "Unusual."

"What is wrong with unusual? As long as it is effective." Tsunade tossed her golden hair, righteous. "Isn't the effect good? That kid is tough, perfect for grinding down his wildness. Besides," she patted the scroll stained with dark red, "didn't I pull him back into the light for you? To keep him from being coveted by certain roots in the gutters." She hinted at something, then yawned, signaling the end of the topic. "Alright, I've taken him on. That is settled. If there is nothing else, I am leaving."

"Good. I understand." Hiruzen immediately caught the deeper meaning in her words, a sharp light flashing in his eyes. He responded decisively, genuine relief on his face.

His fingers imperceptibly tapped his pipe. Ryo joining the Hokage lineage, becoming his grand-disciple. Kushina and Ryo's bond deepening daily, almost intertwined, and Kushina being the future Kyūbi Jinchūriki…

These three lines instantly braided into a clear, strong rope in his mind, held firmly in the Hokage's hand. A trace of ease and the pleasure of holding the overall situation flashed in his eyes.

Tsunade saw his expression and knew the old man was once again calculating his intricate game.

She said no more, too lazy to bother with the twists and turns, and picked up the pig's trotter on the table that had witnessed her sincerity. "I am off."

She turned like a gust of wind. The office door groaned again, and her golden-haired figure disappeared down the corridor.

Hiruzen watched her leave, and once the door closed, the relief on his face instantly receded, replaced by his usual deep calm.

Smoke once again permeated the air.

An Anbu wearing an animal mask silently knelt before the desk, as if emerging from the shadows.

"Go." The Third's voice was low and authoritative, carrying undeniable power. "Inform Danzō. Tsunade has personally confirmed taking Ryo as her direct disciple, and from today, Ryo is her only direct disciple." He paused, emphasizing his words. "Warn him. Put away any improper thoughts. No one is to scheme against Ryo again. No one."

"Understood, Hokage-sama."

…

Bang. A delicate celadon teacup shattered into pieces in the depths of Ne's secret base.

Danzō's grim face twisted and monstrous like a demon in the flickering candlelight.

He clutched the small scroll just delivered from the Hokage Tower, his knuckles white, a chilling cold and fury seeping from his bones.

"Sa…ru…to…bi… Hi…ru…zen…" A hoarse voice, like sandpaper rubbing dry bone, squeezed out word by word from between his clenched teeth.

Every word on that paper was like a red-hot brand, searing his heart. Tsunade taking a disciple, Ryo becoming part of the Hokage line, the warning…

Every line declared his failure.

The promising talent he had set his eyes on, that sharp blade that could tear through enemies and stain Konoha's foundations in the future, had been snatched away.

Bang. Another furious punch slammed into the hard ebony desk, the dull thud shaking dust from the ceiling.

His eyes seemed to burn, bloodshot and bulging, staring fixedly at the scroll, threads of red crazily crawling across his eyeballs.

This was not just losing a potential new talent. It was a blatant slap and suppression.

The Third Hokage was using the name of Tsunade and her disciple to pin down Danzō and the entire sphere of Root.

"Heh… hehe…" At the peak of rage, he laughed instead, his mouth twisting upward into a strange, chilling arc that could stop a child's crying. "Hiruzen. Tsunade."

The firelight danced on his distorted face. His sinister gaze pierced the shadowed rock walls, fixed in the direction of the Hokage Tower.

"You want it all? Good." His voice was as soft as a snake's hiss, yet it carried a coldness that seeped into every blue brick of the basement. "Just wait and see. Whether it is the Kyūbi Jinchūriki, or that sharp blade. You may hold them for a while, but can you hold them for a lifetime?"

(To be continued.)

More chapters tomorrow.