Let's rewind the clock slightly.
After the meeting ended, Akane spent some more time processing the documents that had received Hii Kōri's final approval, distributing them to the corresponding execution departments by category. Then, quite cheerfully, she returned to her residence at the guild's main headquarters—the small house that Hii Kōri had moved to, where she had once lived with Tsunade and Shizune for several months.
As a highly experienced mother, Akane had spent the past few months providing various suggestions and help to Tsunade, who had been flustered by the details of giving birth for the first time. The relationship between the two women—who had initially met through Hii Kōri—had grown increasingly close during this period. To facilitate care and keep each other company, they had simply moved in together with their children.
Conveniently, Akane's daughter Sara was about the same age as Shizune, so the two girls could study and play together without getting lonely.
Pushing open the garden gate, the early autumn afternoon sun shone warmly on the carefully tended small courtyard. Several pots of seasonal flowers were in full bloom. The interior furnishings had also been rearranged.
Tsunade was sitting on a soft couch by the window, wearing a loose, comfortable, pale green house robe. Her long hair was casually pinned up at the back with a wooden hairpin into a bun that wouldn't hinder movement.
One side of her collar was loosened, revealing a fair, rounded shoulder, as she nursed her half-year-old son, Hii Ren. Sunlight filtered through the latticed window, gilding both mother and baby with a fuzzy golden edge.
Hearing the door open, Tsunade looked up. Seeing that Akane had returned, a relaxed smile appeared on her face. "You're back? The meeting's over?"
"Mm-hmm. There wasn't really anything major."
Akane took off her coat, hung it on the rack by the door, washed her hands at the sink near the stove, then walked over and sat in the chair next to Tsunade, naturally reaching out to touch Hii Ren's fuzzy little head.
The little guy wrinkled his nose and made a small sound, but didn't stop eating.
"How was the little guy today? Did he act up?"
"I almost wish the child would cry out a bit more. All he does is eat and sleep, eat and sleep not a peep. Just like his father when he's doing research."
Tsunade complained, but the doting smile in her eyes was impossible to overlook. She adjusted her hold on the baby slightly and looked at Akane more naturally. "What new trick has that guy come up with now?"
"...How should I put it..."
Akane picked up the warm teapot on the table, poured herself a cup of water, took a sip, and after organizing her words a bit, she slowly began to describe—in relatively plain language—the matters from the meeting: the establishment of the Ninth Department, the transformation over the next five years, and the ultimate intention to directly confront other countries and organizations.
The worst thing when relaying such matters was to interject personal interpretations. As the head of the Administration Section and the queen of Rōran, Akane naturally understood this principle.
"...That's roughly it. In the future, conflict between us and Konoha will probably be unavoidable. What are your thoughts?"
Holding her teacup, Akane's concerned gaze did not leave Tsunade's face.
Her question was hardly subtle, but even with Akane's eloquence, it was difficult to phrase this question more euphemistically.
Konoha was, after all, the place where Tsunade had been born and raised, the place she had once fought for, the place her former lover had wanted to protect. It held her teacher, her former teammates, the traces of the Senju clan, and all her past loves and hates.
When Hii Kōri's spearhead eventually pointed at Konoha, what would Tsunade's attitude be?
Tsunade fell silent for a moment.
She lowered her head, looking at her son's little face, slightly stirring from hard suckling. Her fingers gently stroked the baby's fine, soft hair. Sunlight shifted, casting a small shadow under her lowered lashes. After a long while, she let out a long sigh.
"I won't stop him."
Tsunade paused, then raised her gaze to Akane. Her beautiful almond-shaped eyes held complex emotions, but there was little struggle or pain in them. "Of course, I also can't participate, throwing punches at my former comrades. When that time comes, all I can probably do is take care of Ren like I am now, and... try not to look, not to listen."
Tsunade's attitude toward Konoha, Tsunade's attitude toward Hii Kōri—each had its own subtle qualities. This mindset formed by her identity and circumstances was not something Akane had any right to criticize.
In fact, from another perspective, Akane also had her own melancholy.
Obviously, Rōran—protected by the double protection of the Dragon Vein barrier and the vast sand sea of the Land of Wind—could be called the most difficult place in the ninja world to infiltrate, the most suitable location for a hidden stronghold.
Hii Kōri's plans also indispensable Rōran's involvement. In fact, most of his key plans would start from Rōran.
The country where she had been born, raised, and which she had protected to this day would be transformed into another shape, becoming a true "arsenal" and "experimental base." Facing such a prospect, anyone would be affected.
But whether a country was the palaces and cities built from towering spires, or the people who supported and trusted her—Akane could still distinguish between the two.
Since the people of Rōran had already gained a more stable life with Hii Kōri's help, "Rōran" itself was no longer so important.
After all, this was also for their "shared ideal."
Thinking this, Akane didn't offer any other comment of Tsunade's decision. Instead, she brought up another matter: "Speaking of which, Tsunade, would you like to write a letter to someone you know in Konoha?"
"Huh?"
Tsunade looked over, confused, struggling to understand why Akane would suddenly bring up such a thing.
Seeing her reaction, Akane tilted her head and smiled. "Kōri also gave me another task: to find an appropriate opportunity to send a sum of funds to Orochimaru. I thought that if it went through you, forwarded in the name of friendship, it might seem more natural. Since you were teammates for so many years, after all."
"..."
Tsunade's expression instantly collapsed. The corners of her mouth twitched, veins seeming to bulge faintly at her temples. The gentle, maternal glow shattered in an instant.
She set down Hii Ren, who had eaten his fill and started to snore, and—rather roughly—pulled her loosened collar together and tied the sash. Then, as if Hii Kōri were standing right in front of her, she ground her teeth and let out a low lament: "I knew it! Those two with their abnormally wired brains were bound to end up in cahoots sooner or later..."
She muttered under her breath, "Orochimaru isn't really planning to defect, is he?" and such things, leaving Akane momentarily speechless. Akane found herself instinctively pointing out, "Tsunade, you also left Konohagakure without a word, didn't you?"
"That's—that's different!" Tsunade looked like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her face slightly flushed as she awkwardly retorted. "I was just angry by the village's nonsense and left to clear my head temporarily! How is that the same as that kind of thing!"
"Yes, yes, it's different. You're just clearing your head—and along the way, you just happened to settle your future and the heir issue." Akane nodded compliantly, her eyes brimming with even more amusement.
"Akane!" Tsunade, embarrassed and annoyed, grabbed a soft cushion from nearby and made as if to throw it, but seeing Hii Ren sleeping soundly beside her, she grudgingly put it back down. She glared at Akane for a few seconds, then finally gave a resigned sigh, turned, and walked to her desk, pulling out a sheet of good-quality letter paper.
"Give me a pen." She held out her hand to Akane ungraciously.
"Hai, hai~ Here you go~"
Akane smiled and handed her a pen.
Tsunade gripped the pen, stared at the blank paper for a few seconds as if thinking about her wording, then pursed her lips, lowered her head, and began to write.
The nib scraped across the paper, making a soft scratching sound.
Meanwhile, on the other side, three men with nothing to do sat side by side on a hallway, staring into space.
"How rare. You actually took the initiative to ask someone to go out."
Sitting cross-legged in the cool shadow, Jiraiya skillfully wrote his novel manuscript in the notebook on his lap with his left hand while eyeing Orochimaru beside him sideways, as if the person sitting there wasn't his teammate of twenty years, but some creature disguised as something else.
It was only natural. From the day he met Orochimaru until this very morning, Jiraiya could never have imagined a scenario where Orochimaru invited him to "go for a stroll."
"Mm... don't say that, Lord Orochimaru actually has a pretty good reputation among the jōnin ranks."
The man with long silver-white hair and an eye patch over his left eye smiled and defended Orochimaru.
That was Sakumo Hatake, once known throughout the ninja world as "Konoha's White Fang." He wore a loose, light gray bathrobe, his right hand pulled out from the sleeve and tucked into his collar, holding a skewer of dumplings that appeared to have two pieces already eaten.
During the Second Shinobi World War, this man had single-handedly raided and annihilated an entire puppet brigade of Sunagakure—a force capable of influencing local battlefields. But as the cost, he had lost his left eye completely, and both arms had suffered severe, nearly impossible-to-heal injuries, practically shredded like "tuna with scallions."
Even though his arms now looked no different from ordinary people's, the muscles and nerves that had been broken into over a dozen segments and then reattached could no longer support him in wielding his proud Hatake sword technique as freely as before.
Since then, the "Broken White Fang" had withdrawn from the frontline of shinobi duty and transferred to teaching at the Ninja Academy.
His strength was no longer what it once was, but that didn't mean his insight and experience had diminished. With Sakumo Hatake's experience, even clan-born students who had already learned many basics before enrollment still had much he could teach them.
Moreover, his eye for talent was among the best in all of Konoha.
But in any case, Sakumo Hatake was no longer an active jōnin, let alone the former head of the jōnin ranks. That was why he jokingly addressed Orochimaru as "Lord."
"Heh... don't make me sound so cold."
With Sakumo Hatake's "support," Orochimaru was happy to fire back at Jiraiya. "Even I occasionally want to maintain the bonds between friends."
"It's actually because you have nothing better to do."
Jiraiya rolled his eyes, completely unmoved by Orochimaru's act. "You've almost eaten all my eggs."
How could he not know that if his old teammate had a choice, he would never leave his lab.
"Well, there's no helping it. The village needs to rebuild its intelligence network right now, so there's no money to allocate to my experiments. Besides, it's not convenient for me to take on missions anymore either."
Orochimaru didn't deny Jiraiya's claim. He raised his hand and touched the edge of the wound on his left shoulder, where Hii Kōri's piercing hand had torn through, and his tone became somewhat detached.
He had been back in Konohagakure for over a week, but this wound, deep enough to see bone, had still not healed.
The origin of medical ninjutsu was emergency treatment on the battlefield. The underlying logic was to use chakra to stimulate rapid cell division at the wound site, thus accelerating healing.
Although many later methods had been developed to treat other wounds, toxins, and diseases, in treating trauma, medical ninjutsu still followed this original logic.
And although this method of treatment was very fast, it also had a corresponding cost: shortened lifespan.
The side effects weren't obvious if used once or twice, but areas healed with medical ninjutsu would inevitably age faster than other parts.
On the battlefield, of course, you used whatever worked—side effects were something only the living had the privilege to consider. But if the situation wasn't urgent, it was naturally better to let wounds heal on their own.
"Ha. Look at that—the three of us cripples are like a 'Crimson of Agony Victims Association.'"
Jiraiya burst out laughing, elbowing Orochimaru in the side with his right elbow, and started roasting in a seemingly carefree manner.
When you thought about it, wasn't that exactly the case? Jiraiya's fingers had been cut off by Hii Kōri. Orochimaru's left shoulder had been pierced through by Hii Kōri. Even Sakumo Hatake, who seemed the least involved, had actually been wounded by weapons improved by Hii Kōri.
"Oh? So you're still thinking of getting revenge on him?"
Orochimaru looked at Jiraiya with interest. The gaze of his snake-like pupils made the carefree smile on Jiraiya's face freeze slightly.
"What? You don't have that idea? Don't forget—"
"Haha, I'd really rather not actually run into that guy again."
Before Jiraiya could finish, Sakumo Hatake laughed loudly, drowning out his voice.
The one-eyed man stroked his chin and sighed. "A young man who can put both of you at a disadvantage—I definitely can't beat him now."
"I'm afraid that might not be up to you, Sakumo."
Orochimaru turned to look at Sakumo Hatake and made a joke in his raspy voice. "Compared to me and Jiraiya, you're probably the one he wants to find the most. After all, you killed both his big brother and sister-in-law."
"Ah, ah. That really is quite a grudge."
Sakumo Hatake smiled wryly and touched his hair, as if worried about his future. "How concerning... If I don't have a few drinks, I probably won't sleep well tonight."
"Heh. You're pretty laid back for a retiree. But let me say this upfront—I'm not drinking. It's bad for the wound."
Orochimaru didn't mind Sakumo Hatake's poor acting. He merely declared his abstinence from alcohol.
"..."
The one-eyed man didn't say much. He just leaned forward and looked at Jiraiya on Orochimaru's other side.
"...I don't really mind..."
"Great. Then it's your treat, Great Literary Master!
"?!"
***
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