AIC draft

She sneered, openly annoyed by how shocked the gate guards were. “Well?” Tsunade said irritably. She put a hand on her hip. “Do you recognize us? Do you need my identification number? Did you simply forget how to open a door?”

“Tsunade hime,” Jiraiya said, quietly and pained. She ignored him.

The chuunin at the gate exchanged panicked glances. Then one of them cleared his throat. “You are not expected to arrive today, Senju-sama, so there is some paperwork.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Of course.” She got to it, blinking through a headache and the obnoxious stares of the people waiting in line behind her for entry to Konoha.

‘I did say that I was never coming back,’ she acknowledged. ‘Rather loudly. And I did commission that one man to make a poem about my disdain in his exhibit.’

Still, it rankled. She felt out of place, in the city her grandparents had founded. They looked at her like a stranger, because she was one. She gritted her teeth and stole a glance at Shizune. The jounin was dutifully filling in her rank information and reporting on her last activities since entry.

‘It’s not for long. I’m going to see if that girl was telling the truth. If she wasn’t, I am leaving.’

Tsunade couldn’t quite put into words what she would do if Uzumaki had been telling the truth about the rot in Konoha.

“I’m done,” she said instead, capping her pen.

“Thank you, Senju-sama,” said the other chuunin. Her brown hair flopped in her face when she leaned over to take the paperwork.

“Tsunade,” she said, a little annoyed that she was such a stranger to this girl. “It’s Tsunade, not Senju.”

“Tsunade-sama,” Shizune said helpfully, handing over her own paperwork with hopeful eyes. Tsunade felt her stomach twist at the way her disciple looked at her.

“Tsunade-hime,” Jiraiya sing-songed. He scribbled something profane on his own paperwork and then let it drop to the table top. He put his hands behind his head and leaned back.

By the time they got into the city, the gossip was ahead of them. There was a buzz of excitement in the air. In the pit of her stomach, she didn’t like that. She didn’t want these people to still love her and look up to her.

Tsunade tossed her hair and stalked to Hokage tower, on a beeline for her teacher. She needed to sort this out.

“Uh,” said Jiraiya. “We could stop at my place first.”

She cast a disparaging glance in his direction. “The tax shack?” she asked dryly. “What wonders could possibly await us there?”

He fidgeted. “Well, it’s not so much about things, is it?” He asked. He was too disciplined to let his eyes wander, but she knew what he was saying: there’s too many people around, too many eyes. Let’s talk before we confront anyone.

She valiantly ignored him.

They did not have to wait at the Hokage tower. As soon as they entered, a secretary came to usher them in to see the Sandaime. Shizune begged off with a glance and stopped in the waiting room.

Her teacher was waiting behind his desk with a measured expression.

She wasn’t fooled. Tsunade eyed the way the old man was clutching his pipe, just that bit too tightly.

“That stuff will kill you,” she told him with a frown. She took a seat in the best chair without waiting for an invitation. “Sensei, you said you’d cut back on the tobacco.”

He hastily stowed it under his desk. “Oh I have, I have,” he lied easily. “But enough about me. You’re looking well, Tsunade-chan.”

“Am I,” she said flatly.

Hiruzen’s face twisted into a bitter little smile. “Well, you’ve seemed less tired in past,” he allowed. “Haven’t aged a day, of course.”

“Ladies never do,” she said, well-aware that everyone present knew she was hiding her real face under a genjutsu of the full flush of youth. “I met someone interesting lately,” she said.

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that so.”

“Yes,” she said impatiently. “The Uzumaki girl.”

“Aiko,” Jiraiya murmured.

Hiruzen suddenly looked a decade older. “Oh yes, the Mizukage,” he said. His tone was dry. He leaned back in his chair. “We had a visit from her the day before yesterday.”

She felt Jiraiya tense, hopeful.

“For any particular reason?” Tsunade asked, for Jiraiya’s sake.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Her teacher’s mouth opened and then closed. He looked at the window. “To collect on a bounty,” he said, a little too steadily. “And to deliver Orochimaru’s head.”

That thought knocked any words out of her mouth. She just looked at him. “What?” Tsunade said, hearing her own voice come out quietly. “Orochimaru.” She couldn’t muster a question.

“Dead,” her teacher confirmed. He managed to look directly at them, his two remaining students. “The Mizukage killed him. You hadn’t heard yet?”

“No,” she said, hearing her voice as if it came from someone else. She was glad she was already sitting while she tried to rearrange her worldview.

Jiraiya cleared his throat. “I did think. I knew she would confront him,” he admitted. “That’s why… that’s why I initially came to see you, Tsunade.”

“You knew?” The Sandaime asked sharply. His eyebrows went up. “How could you have known that?”

Jiraiya leaned back in his chair with painfully false nonchalance. “She told me,” he admitted freely. He waved a hand as if this was nothing. “Gotta admit I didn’t think she could do it on her own.”

He earned a dry and disapproving look from their teacher. “And why would one of the most powerful shinobi in the world not be a match for a peer?” Hiruzen asked. “Clearly, the Mizukage is a formidable woman.” The hand with his pipe crept out from underneath his desk again. This time, Tsunade pretended not to notice.

Jiraiya coughed into a fist. “Yes. Well.” His voice was strained. “That’s some news, sensei. Gotta admit I wasn’t expecting to hear that.”

Hiruzen’s gaze softened. “I was not exactly prepared myself,” he said.

They sat in the horror of it for a moment. He was a traitor, he was a monster, he was dead and he was gone. He was her teammate and he was gone.

“That’s surely not why you came,” Hiruzen said. His stare was directed entirely at Tsunade. “What is it?”

She froze, nerves badly shaken. “I…”

“I told her that Hatake was in the hospital,” Jiraiya cut in, kindly. She vaguely remembered that through the fog. “Sakumo was a friend, after all.”

“Is that why you’re back?” It wasn’t exactly a question, as he stared at her with piercing black eyes. Tsunade could tell that he wasn’t fooled at all.

“Of course it is,” she said, feeling weak and lost. “I’ll go to the hospital next. I thought I better talk to you first.”

She didn’t really remember much of what was said after that. She came to herself again out of the numbness when she was already in the hospital, scrubbing up over a familiar sink. Carefully, slowly, she leaned her pained head against the mirror.

‘I don’t know if I hate Uzumaki for this or not.’

Her lips twisted, into a bitter ghost of a smile.

‘But I don’t have to do it. I should thank her.’

Tsunade let out a hollow laugh and straightened her posture. She confronted the woman in the mirror with more than a little bit of disdain. Her arrogance, her idealism, her utter uselessness as a teammate all stared back at her from an ageless face.

She briefly considered cancelling her illusion.

No. It would alarm Shizune, if nothing else, she decided. She met her apprentice out in the hallway. “You’ve read the charts?” She asked, tone brisk.

Shizune eyed her, clearly seeing more than Tsunade wished that she would. “Yes, Tsunade-sama,” she chirped. “Hatake-san appears to be conscious and in a genjutsu, rather than a true coma. His brain activity-“

“Doctor?” A female voice asked, timid.

Tsunade stopped in her stride to see two small people.

The girl fidgeted. “I heard you talking- are you talking about Kakashi sensei?” Her tone lifted. There were dark circles on her pretty face. She was too pale, too skinny.

Tsunade tried to keep her expression neutral. “And if I am?”

“Are you going to fix him?” The boy burst out, far too loudly for a hospital. His teammate grabbed at his arm but it made no difference. “Can you fix it? They said there was someone who could wake him up.”

Tsunade felt all the tension slide out of her face as she confronted what had to be Minato and Kushina’s son. “Uzumaki,” she said, feeling extremely tired. “I haven’t examined him yet. Do you promise to do things you haven’t looked into?”

“Yes,” he said, and then blinked. “You know me?”

“You have that look about you,” she said vaguely. She nodded goodbye to the girl and swept down the hallway. “I’ll do what I can.”