The notebook was filled to the brim—
page after page densely packed with writing, leaving not a single blank space.
It was clearly not something hastily thrown together.
That meant Arata had been preparing this for a long time—thinking about medical reform and the development of medical ninjutsu far before today.
But that made no sense.
Arata had always been known as a taijutsu specialist—a shinobi who focused on swordsmanship and physical combat.
Why would he have spent time researching medical ninjutsu?
A sudden realization dawned on Tsunade, and her eyes welled up.
"You've… been working on this for a long time, haven't you? From the start, this was all for me, wasn't it?"
Her voice trembled slightly.
Everyone in the village knew about Tsunade's obsession with creating a medical corps and advancing medical techniques,
but no one had ever actually stepped forward to help her.
Yet here Arata was—someone who had quietly been preparing all this, just for her.
It was proof enough of how deeply he cared.
Arata nodded, his gaze tender and unwavering.
"I've wanted to give this to you for a long time," he admitted softly. "But I never had the courage. I was too weak… I didn't feel worthy to stand by your side."
Tsunade's heart clenched.
Her earlier embarrassment melted into genuine affection as she murmured,
"Thank you… You've always been so good to me. I don't even know how to repay you."
Arata's heart leapt. He grinned boldly and said without hesitation:
"Then marry me, Tsunade!"
Once upon a time, he never would've dared to say such words—his inferiority would've silenced him.
But not anymore.
Now, with confidence surging through him, Arata took the initiative.
Tsunade's eyes widened in shock.
For a brief moment, the memories of all his years of quiet devotion flashed before her eyes—his care, his warmth, his unwavering support.
And then, her lips parted, barely audible—
"...Mm."
Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's hum, yet it made Arata's heart soar.
He'd done it. She'd said yes.
Suppressing his excitement, he steadied himself and said seriously:
"Tsunade, listen to me. After I leave, be careful of Danzō. That old snake will make a move on you sooner or later."
Tsunade blinked in confusion.
"Danzō may be unpleasant, but I'm the First Hokage's granddaughter. He wouldn't dare to actually harm me, would he?"
Arata sighed inwardly at her innocence.
"He might not kill you outright, but crippling you? That'd be easy for him. And your lineage won't protect you—Danzō doesn't care about that. Haven't you noticed how, ever since he rose in power, the Senju clan's been fading away?"
Tsunade froze.
When she thought about it… he was right.
The Senju clan had once been Konoha's strongest. They had countless jōnin, several kage-level fighters—two of whom were the First and Second Hokage themselves.
But in barely over a decade, they'd withered away.
Members kept dying under "reasonable" circumstances—accidents, missions, illnesses.
Yet now that she thought about it, something about it all felt… wrong.
"You mean…" Tsunade whispered, her eyes narrowing. "Danzō wants to replace the Senju—to rule Konoha himself?"
Arata nodded gravely.
"Most likely. So stay vigilant. Especially your brother—keep him close to the village, and protect him at all costs."
Tsunade's heart tightened at the mention of her brother.
He was her everything—her last family. The thought of losing him terrified her more than anything.
"I understand," she said quickly. "But you… you're going on a mission now. I can't help worrying about you…"
Her voice trailed off. She didn't dare finish that sentence—afraid her words would become an omen.
Arata smiled reassuringly.
"Don't worry. My strength's grown a lot lately. Even against a kage-level opponent, I can at least survive."
But Tsunade still looked uneasy.
She knew her own luck all too well.
And she knew Arata—no matter how hard he trained, he'd always been limited by his lack of talent.
"Then… what if I apply to join your squad?" she blurted. "I'll go with you. That way, I can protect you."
Arata nearly groaned.
"Hey now, I'm not some weakling who hides behind his woman. If I can't even handle a mission on my own, how could I ever call myself your man?"
Tsunade hesitated.
"But…"
Before she could finish, Arata leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips.
When he pulled away, his eyes were full of determination.
"Trust me. When I come back… we'll get married."
For a long moment, Tsunade stood there, stunned.
Those words echoed in her heart like a vow carved into stone.
As he turned and walked away, she watched in silence, her lips trembling.
"You'd better come back safely, Arata… I'll be waiting."
...
But anyone who's ever seen a war story knows—
saying "I'll come back and we'll get married" is practically waving a death flag.
Arata knew it too.
But the timing was perfect, and he couldn't afford to let the moment slip away.
If he didn't confess now, once the Second Great Ninja War erupted, they might never have the chance again.
Back in his small, bare home, Arata changed into his jōnin vest and a black combat uniform.
From the wall, he took down his most prized possession—a short blade about forty centimeters long.
In this nearly empty house, that sword was the only thing of real value.
He'd spent years' worth of mission pay to afford it—barely enough for a short sword.
Unlike rich kids like Sasuke, who started out with legendary weapons like the Kusanagi, he had to make do with what he could get.
Running his hand over the sword, Arata smiled faintly.
"Old friend," he murmured, "looks like it's just you and me again."
The way he spoke to it, one might've thought the sword was the love of his life.
And in a way—it was.
In this brutal shinobi world, that sword had been his only constant companion.
Everything he'd achieved—his survival, his rise to tokubetsu jōnin—had been carved by its edge.
His mastery of swordsmanship ranked among the best in Konoha.
He had even reached the point where he could resonate with his sword—a rare and profound connection.
If not for his limited chakra capacity, he believed he could have even rivaled the White Fang of Konoha himself.
With a firm motion, Arata tied the short sword to his back, straightened his vest, and stepped out the door—
without looking back once.