Inside the cave, the artillery fire was deafening. Outside, the blizzard screamed. Far to the south, the first rays of dawn were beginning to tint the horizon.
While Saiki was "working" in the cave, Tsunade was engaged in a struggle of her own—though in her case, she was the one taking the initiative.
"Sister Tsunade... I love you so much. Do you love me too?" Saiki's voice was warm and passionate in her mind.
"I don't," the dream-Tsunade hissed.
"But I love you!"
Faced with Saiki pinning her down, the dream-Tsunade fought against his shoulders, trying to maintain some shred of distance. "I told you! I don't love you!"
But despite her shouting, she lacked the strength to actually push him away.
The dream-Saiki smirked. "Sister Tsunade, you're just stubborn. Let's see how long that 'stiffness' lasts."
"No! Stop! You little bastard...!" Faced with his lunging form, she could only curse him weakly.
The dream-Saiki replied with a wicked chuckle. "You're so dishonest, Sister. Look at how much you're leaking already."
...
"Ahhh! Gentler... slow down...!" Drenched in fragrant sweat, the dream-Tsunade panted her curses.
Saiki's breathing was a ragged roar. "Sister... I'm coming! I'm going to fill you!"
"No... no! Inside...!"
Land of Fire, a room in a hot spring inn.
Tsunade was thrashing in bed, the quilt having been kicked to the floor long ago. Her white nightgown was wide open at the collar, exposing a vast expanse of her snowy, pale chest. Her hands were clenched tight around the sheets, her thighs grinding and rubbing together with desperate intensity.
The morning light hit her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her long lashes trembling. Her flawless face was a mask of feverish crimson, her forehead slick with sweat that matted her blonde hair to her skin. Her teeth were clamped onto her full lower lip, and hot, steaming breaths huffed from her nose. Her head tossed from side to side in a state of unbearable overstimulation.
Suddenly, her entire body went rigid. Her legs, which had been grinding furiously, snapped out straight and taut. Her ten cute toes curled into tight knots. A long moment later, as if her soul had left her body, she went completely limp, her thrashing form finally settling into a post-orgasmic daze.
A second later, Tsunade's eyes snapped open. She used the strength in her core to bolt upright in bed.
Pant! Pant! Pant!
She gasped for air, her hazel eyes shifting from confusion to a sharp, pained clarity. The memories of the dream were so vivid they felt as though they had just happened in the physical world.
She looked down at her open collar, then at the discarded quilt.
Tsunade had always been a woman of boisterous, uninhibited character. But this time, she shyly yanked her nightgown shut, shielding her "scenery" from the empty room.
Before she could even steady her heart, a cold, slick sensation between her legs made her freeze. Her night-pants were soaked through.
Tsunade lost it. "THAT MOTHERFUCKING BRAT!" she screamed at the empty walls.
She cursed Saiki, but she knew the truth. Was she really that desperate?
For several nights in a row, she had dreamed of Saiki. Every dream ended with her being ravaged into a state of total collapse. And every night, the imagery grew sharper, the sensations more intense.
Saiki's "Heart-shaped Yin Seal" on her abdomen was doing its work. Saiki hadn't quite mastered his Qi when he inscribed it, so the effect was actually weaker than he had intended.
The Yin-Yang energies he had left within her were forcing her to relive their night together, but they hadn't quite turned her into a "lustful jade maiden" yet—she hadn't abandoned everything to go find him.
But the effect was cumulative. With each passing day, her craving for him was becoming more primal. It wasn't a matter of if she would break; it was a matter of when. Without him, she was slowly going insane with longing.
She looked out the window. Dawn had arrived.
After a moment to steady her nerves, Tsunade swung her legs out of bed.
This wasn't her first "morning incident." It had happened every day this week, forcing her to invent excuses to keep Shizune in a separate room.
She undid her sash and let the nightgown fall. Her explosive figure was a masterpiece: a high-grade brassiere struggled to contain two massive, heavy "papayas." Her waist was slender, her stomach perfectly flat even while seated.
Because of her sheer volume, Tsunade (5'4") looked shorter than she was, but her proportions were elite. Her thighs were meaty and firm without being "thick," her calves slim. She had the legs of a much taller woman; only her height and her legendary chest held her back.
She reached for the waistband of her conservative red panties and slid them down. She shifted her hips to step out of them, her knees clamping together in a bashful reflex.
She held the fabric in her hand. Ninja possessed vision that far surpassed civilians, even in the dark. She didn't need a light to see the truth.
A massive, damp patch occupied the center of the red fabric. It wasn't just a "spot."
Had Saiki been there, Tsunade would have likely thrown the "holy relic" at his face in a fit of humiliated rage.
Of course, Saiki would have probably caught it and thanked her.
She tossed the panties into a corner and grabbed some tissues. Ignoring the hyper-sensitivity of her post-orgasmic state, she performed a quick cleanup, grabbed a fresh set of clothes, and headed for the outdoor spring to wash away the evidence.
Lately, Tsunade took a bath every single morning and won every bet she placed in the afternoon. Shizune was starting to wonder if her master had found a new religion or been possessed by the God of Gamblers.
Hundreds of kilometers away, Saiki remained unaware of Tsunade's internal crisis.
As Tsunade was stepping into her bath, Saiki—aided by Tsume—had finally regained his equilibrium.
An Inuzuka's stamina was legendary, yet even Tsume was now physically spent. Her legs were like jelly, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The soul-shaking pleasure of the Dual Cultivation had finally subsided, leaving her exhausted.
She remained straddled over him, her hands braced against his muscular abdomen. Her white undershirt was transparent with sweat. Her hips continued a slow, rhythmic grind, guiding Saiki's final reserves through the circuit to ensure the cycle was complete.
Unlike Tsunade's flashy beauty or Kushina's fiery spice, Tsume possessed a raw, wild feminine energy. Her status as a "wife and mother" granted her a distinct, mature allure that was proving to be Saiki's undoing.
With his internal Qi settled, Saiki finally shifted his focus to the woman on top of him. He was done with the medical necessity; now he was in it for the physical pleasure.
This session had left Saiki puzzled. Tsunade and Nono'u were older, yet Tsume's "Yin Qi" was nearly equal to theirs. And the tightness... the sheer "enveloping" sensation she provided made him wonder if her marriage was purely for show. She had responded to the Qi stimulation by throwing herself into the "extraction" with a hunger that bordered on desperation.
Survival had been secured, and as is typical for a male who has just escaped death, Saiki's libido was peaking. His biology was screaming at him to sow his seeds—if he died tomorrow, his lineage had to endure.
He was caught in that primal trap, and Tsume was the perfect partner for his "consolidation."
"Sensei Tsume," Saiki whispered.
Hearing her name, Tsume snapped out of her trance. The light in the cave was growing. Even with the fire reduced to embers, she could see that Saiki's skin had returned to its normal pale shade. The "bomb" in his chest had been defused.
She looked at him and realized that while he was cured, she was still moving. The "medical" excuse was gone.
She stopped instantly, her eyes darting around in a panic. She didn't dare meet his gaze. "S-Saiki... you're back to normal?"
"Sensei... can you go a bit faster?"
The answer left Tsume breathless. "You... you aren't finished yet?"
"Almost. Just a little more!"
He was lying through his teeth. He was cured, but he was horny.
Tsume looked down at him. Despite his age, his "assets" were intimidating. She felt a mix of shame and a traitorous desire to continue.
"I see... well... alright then." Her voice was a trembling whisper. She resumed the grind, her plump peaches working to extract the "final" bit of energy.
As she entered the rhythm again, Tsume thought that was the end of it. But Saiki pushed further.
"Sensei... could you pick up the pace? It's almost there. Or... maybe you should lie down and let me take the wheel?"
"WHAT?!" Tsume stared at him in pure shock.
In one session, Tsume had already reached the peak several times. The mattress beneath them was soaked through.
Saiki's stamina was abnormal. He hadn't erupted once. Tsume was starting to suspect he was made of iron.
Seeing the raw hunger in the boy's eyes and having the "Dual Cultivation" excuse to lean on, her resistance crumbled. "Fine... alright."
Bracing her hands on his chest, she tried to stand up, but her legs were too weak from the previous rounds.
Saiki didn't wait. He sat up, closing the distance between their faces. Tsume instinctively leaned back, but Saiki's hands were already around her waist, pulling her into a tight embrace.
"Ah! Saiki!"
Faced with his handsome, youthful face so close to hers, Tsume felt like a bashful schoolgirl. They had been joined for over an hour, but the sudden face-to-face intimacy made her heart gallop.
Saiki felt her trembling and decided to finish the job. "Sensei... take your shirt off. It's soaked. You'll catch a cold if you leave it on."
He reached for the hem of her shirt.
"Saiki, don't!" Tsume gasped, trying to stop his hands.
Sex for "medical reasons" was one thing. Standing completely naked and exposed to him was another. That crossed the line into a "relationship."
But Saiki wasn't listening. Now that he had her, his possessive streak was flaring. He didn't care about her husband.
He flooded her with a wisp of Qi. The pleasure hit her system and her body went limp. Saiki easily pulled the damp shirt over her head.
Beneath the shirt, her breasts—smaller than Tsunade's but larger than Nono'u's—were contained in a simple black brassiere.
Saiki's breathing grew heavy. He was systematically claiming every inch of her.
"Sensei... this one is wet too." He reached behind her for the clasp.
"You...!" Even her bra was being taken. Tsume wanted to be angry, but Saiki kept thrusting his hips and injecting Qi, and the waves of pleasure were making it impossible to form a coherent thought.
CLICK.
The barrier was gone. Her two massive, pale, and perfectly round "papayas" were set free, their pink cherries firm and ripe.
Saiki desperately wanted to grab them and test their weight, but he maintained a shred of "politeness." He'd give her some dignity.
He tossed her clothes onto the pile, grabbed her plump peaches, and stood up with her still attached to him. His strength was immense; lifting her was effortless. He carried her over and laid her down on the dry part of the mattress.
The fire was dying, and the Land of Iron was a frozen hell outside. But ninja chakra and the heat of Dual Cultivation meant the cave felt like a sauna.
Saiki's driving skills were elite. The "gear-shifter" never left the "driver's" hand. Now, it was Saiki's turn to show her what "acceleration" really meant.
He used her legs as his steering wheel, pushed the shifter to the floor, and floored the gas. Using his hips as the engine, he launched his assault. Tsume finally learned what "G-force" felt like.
The speed was terrifying. The "engine roar" wasn't a sleek hum; it was a rhythmic squelch, slap, pop accompanied by his heavy breathing.
Initially, Tsume tried to endure his pace. But as the "road" grew muddier and more chaotic, the impact of his thrusts became too much. Her long legs locked around his waist in a death-grip, her arms tightening around his neck. Her face was buried between his shoulders, muffled by his skin.
The "muddy road" was failing. The faster he went, the more she felt herself breaking. The sensation of "taking flight" was too much. "AHHH! SAIKI! YES! OH GOD!" she screamed, abandoning her dignity to chase the high.
Saiki pushed the pedal to the metal, his hips a blur. Tsume's body was arched like a bow under the pressure of his assault.
Saiki, nearly suffocated by the intensity, lifted his head. Fearing her screams would draw a patrol, he leaned down and sealed her mouth with a kiss. Her moans turned into muffled whimpers, drowned out by the roar of the "engine" and the smack, smack, smack of flesh on flesh.
Saiki went all in. Tsume couldn't take any more; her womb was being hammered into a new shape by his relentless speed. She held his small, powerful body as if he were her anchor in a storm. Her entire frame began to shudder and seize.
The dam finally broke. The "muddy road" flooded. But Saiki didn't pull back. He let the scalding torrent wash over him and slammed the pedal through the floorboards. After a final, violent barrage, he hit the "palace gates" at the end of the road. The "delivery truck" arrived at its destination and began pumping his scalding, viscous life-force into her fertile, waiting soil.
Feeling the "seeds of life" flooding her depths, the pleasure was so intense Tsume nearly blacked out. She managed one final, lucid gasp. "Saiki... no... wait..."
It was too late. The seeds were sown. Saiki had claimed a territory that didn't belong to him, turning it into a field that would only ever belong to him from now on.
Land of Fire Border, Leaf-Stone Front.
A man with an honest, humble face was completing his final patrol of the night. A large ninken walked beside him. The front was quiet, but since midnight, he had been plagued by a sense of profound unease. At this moment, that feeling reached a fever pitch.
His partner noticed his distraction. "Ren (Shin)? You okay? You've been off all night. Tired?"
Inuzuka Shin (Tsume's husband) shook his head. "No... I just feel... unsettled. Don't let your guard down."
"I hear you. We're all on edge."
The other teammate suddenly paused. "Ren, look at you. You're definitely exhausted. You didn't even notice this green leaf landed on your head."
He reached out and plucked a fresh green leaf from the top of Shin's head.
The leaf was vibrant and new. It was a spring leaf, nowhere near the time for it to fall.
The team stared at the leaf, then looked at the surrounding forest. It was deep autumn. The trees were bare or yellow. There shouldn't have been a fresh green leaf for miles.
Instantly, the team went into combat mode.
Because of a "Green Leaf" (cuckold's hat), the Stone village's plan to ambush the scouts at their weakest hour was exposed.
The patrol unit lived to fight another day, all thanks to a single green leaf.