Chapter 7 – Testing Tsunade
The steady drizzle pattered endlessly against the roof, the sound of raindrops briefly interrupted by a loud thump before being swallowed once more by the rain.
"Ah! Stay away from me!"
Tsunade's body trembled violently. Clutching her head with both hands, her agonized cry shook the entire gambling hall.
Dozens of gamblers turned their heads toward her. Their stares lingered on her voluptuous figure, and several let out crude, mocking chuckles.
Shizune, standing nearby, instantly understood. That splash of tomato sauce—it wasn't sauce in Tsunade-sama's eyes. To her, it was blood.
She knew the truth: when Dan Katō's organs had been torn apart beyond healing and his blood would not stop flowing, Tsunade had watched helplessly as her lover died before her eyes. From that moment, she had been cursed with hemophobia—a crippling fear of blood.
Every time she saw it, her entire body would shiver. This was one of the reasons Tsunade had refused to return to the Leaf.
Frantically, Tsunade groped at her neck, searching for something. Her hand brushed against the smooth, solid surface of a pendant. Grasping the First Hokage's necklace tightly, she slowly managed to calm her panic.
"Hey there, beauty. Need a hand?"
Shizune exhaled in relief when she saw Tsunade's breathing begin to steady—only for a sleazy voice to cut through the air.
"Get lost."
Shizune turned sharply. A man with greasy eyes and a leering grin rubbed his palms together as hot breath escaped from between his lips. Lust clouded his gaze—it was revoltingly obvious what he wanted.
Shizune spat her rejection, but the man didn't care. His hands stretched forward, reaching toward Tsunade.
As his lecherous fingers nearly grazed her smooth, pale arm—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Tsunade's clenched fist crackled with blue chakra, a radiant glow wrapping around her knuckles. Twisting her body with lethal grace, she swung. The force of the punch ripped through the air.
Her fist smashed into the man's face. His features crumpled inward, his body rocketing backward like a ragdoll.
He slammed into a table, shattering it into splinters before continuing into the wall with a crash. A massive hole appeared in the plaster, leaving him embedded in it, spread-eagled and twitching helplessly.
Rubble tumbled down in a shower of dust. His eyes rolled back, foam spilled from his mouth, and blood poured from his broken nose.
The sight was so brutal that every man in the room swallowed hard in unison.
Shizune, fearing that Tsunade would collapse again if she saw the blood, rushed forward and shielded her eyes, dragging her quickly out of the gambling den.
Meanwhile, Hanako Sakuragi had already fled at Tsunade's scream, clinging anxiously to Renjiro Narusei's sleeve. When the crash of Tsunade's blow echoed, she buried her small frame in his chest, trembling.
"Big brother… did I… did I scare that lady just now?"
Her eyes brimmed with tears, guilt twisting her little face.
"It's not your fault. That was just an accident."
Renjiro gently stroked her hair. Comforted, Hanako burrowed deeper into his arms, reluctant to leave his warmth.
For a young girl who had just lost her father, and who had never interacted closely with boys before, the sudden presence of an older brother figure to lean on made her dependence inevitable.
While Hanako clung to him with a blissful smile, Renjiro's calm eyes remained fixed on Tsunade and Shizune as they retreated.
Now he was certain: Tsunade truly had hemophobia.
But that punch just now… it left his expression solemn.
If he had been the one facing that fist, would he have been able to react in time?
The answer was obvious—no. Not a chance. The chakra-enhanced strike had been far too fast, far too devastating.
To send a grown man flying, smashing through tables and walls in a single blow—that kind of raw power was overwhelming. In all his years of training under brutal instructors, he had never once witnessed such monstrous strength.
And this was supposed to be only a beginner's mission. If this was just the first stage, what kind of monsters would he encounter later?
Instead of dread, however, a spark of exhilaration flickered in Renjiro's chest. Perhaps it was the years of merciless conditioning—somewhere along the way, the innocent boy he once was had been replaced by someone who felt the thrill of battle calling.
Yes… the environment shaped everything.
Taking Hanako's hand, Renjiro turned to leave. Behind them, the falling rain pooled into a strange shape—like a figure silently trailing after Tsunade and Shizune.
Click. Creak.
A door swung open. A woman stepped inside and saw her daughter playing happily with Renjiro. Her lips curved in a faint, tender smile.
Outside, the downpour roared on.
High above, on the rooftop of a tall building, stood a man cloaked in black robes patterned with red clouds. He gazed down upon the streets with the bearing of a god.
His eyes—rings of black ripples within pale orbs—were chilling, enough to stir primal fear.
"Tsunade… The organization is still in preparation. It's not time to act yet."
He murmured softly, unconcerned by the rain that streaked down his shoulders.
Behind him, a blue-haired woman in the same robe stood silently, her presence serene yet sharp.
"Hanako," Renjiro's voice finally cut through the moment. "Why aren't you in school?"
The evening air was cool. In the kitchen, the lady of the house washed dishes, while Renjiro sat on the sofa with little Hanako Sakuragi. A sudden thought crossed his mind, and he asked her a question.
Hanako's bright smile dimmed at once, her expression falling into quiet disappointment.
"I can't… We don't have any money. It's already hard enough that Mama works to keep the two of us alive."
Renjiro wasn't surprised by her answer. In this era of shinobi, it was always the common folk who suffered most. Powerless, they were treated like livestock—cut down by ninja without consequence, unable even to seek justice.
It reminded him of something his instructor once said: Weakness is a sin.
"Big brother… are you leaving tomorrow?"
Her round little face drooped with sorrow as she remembered he would be gone soon.
"Yes."
His eyes remained calm as he looked at her, though she was pouting miserably.
"But," he added softly, "I'll give you a parting gift."
Her eyes lit up instantly. "What is it?!"
"You'll find out tomorrow."
Hanako leapt up, raising both hands high in delight, her earlier sadness washed away in an instant. But Renjiro knew better—her reluctance to part was buried deep, even if she tried to hide it.
That night, when it was time for bed, Hanako refused to sleep alone. No matter how her mother tried, she clung to Renjiro with all her strength. The lady of the house could only sigh helplessly at him. Renjiro gave a small nod, and Hanako immediately crawled under the blanket.
Her tiny, soft frame pressed close to him, carrying a faint fragrance that made his body tense for a moment.
He had grown used to killing without the slightest ripple in his heart. Yet this was the first time he had ever held a girl so close.
His hand froze awkwardly against her back, then slowly lowered as he pulled her gently into his arms.
Breathing in the faint scent of her hair, he drifted into sleep.
Elsewhere, in the gambling den, the owner let out a despairing wail to the heavens.
"My god! Who the hell did this?!"
Tears streamed down his face as he stared at the massive human-shaped crater in his wall. Business was ruined for the day. A man had died inside. How was he supposed to keep the place running after this?
Wiping his eyes, he sat down with two burly men. In the dim light of only a few flickering lamps, they sketched out two faces on parchment.
Across the top, in heavy strokes, they wrote three characters:
"WANTED."