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Tsunade remembers only very little of her childhood. Most of it is evenings spend in front of their fireplace with a grandmother that teaches her how to play cards. Even then, she never won a single game though she holds the memories dear which sets her up for a lifelong addiction. More than that, she remembers her mother over her father. Uzumaki and Senju are their names. Two names, each larger than life, and wrapped in fantastic tales of fire, nature and life. Fairy tales.
As a child, Tsunade enjoys them. As a teen, after the deaths of her parents and recent loss of her baby brother, she has forgotten all about them. The only memory she cannot get rid of, has given up on burying long ago, are the haunting whispers of her grandmother:
“You are power, child. It's in every cell of your body, in every breath you take, in every move you make. One day, it will come to claim you. Make sure you are ready for it.” Tsunade's grandmother had been an old woman. Well past her prime with failing eyesight and movements restricted to their ancestral home. She might have loved her more than any other member of her family, more than even her own mother, but Tsunade never truly took her words to heart. Old people tended to be odd and on the long list of oddities that ran in her family, a slightly addled mind was far from being the worst.
By the time she graduates from the academy, Tsunade has closed herself to those fairy tales and myths. War was ravaging the country, has always done so, will never stop and Tsunade has a talent the likes of which is entirely unheard of. She's labelled a prodigy, a medical genius, as she takes to medical chakra, chakra control and the studies of human life faster than anyone else before.
“You will do great,” her mother used to say. Tsunade thinks she understands the true meaning behind the sentiment that haunted her childhood. As a teenager she's not ready to learn how little she truly understands just yet.
War comes and goes and she delves into the never ending duty of saving lives, healing the injured and working her way through her legendary ancestor's faded notes and scribbles. With her heritage, Tsunade has more than enough chakra to work with yet what she can do is still not enough. There are ways to store energy and with her natural talent for healing, she is convinced she can find a way to cheat death – if only temporarily. That the ancient Uzumaki technique is described as the gift of the mighty bird of flame and ash as symbol of their eternal rebirth, is of no further interest to the woman of science.
Nawaki's death nearly ruins her. She deals with it by obsessing over her research. She couldn't save him. She will save everyone else.
(She fails Dan, no matter how hard she tries. Her mother's words have now faded, moved firmly out of reach. All she does is fail fail fail, she is not meant for greatness, never has been.)
Creation Rebirth's success feels hollow. Tsunade doesn't feel much of anything anymore. Sannin, celebrated healer, Senju princess. None of the monikers mean anything in the face of not being enough when it truly counts. She resents them, resents those attempting to console her, is disgusted by the people who dare celebrate her achievements.
It drives her out of the village, forever, if she has anything to say about it. Tsunade has given up on believing that her life is in her own hands. Has surrendered to the idea of not being in control for the rest of eternity. History would remember her as a hero fallen from grace whose last act of kindness is taking in Dan's niece. In truth, the girl has always been attached to her and refuses to be left behind. Tsunade is beyond caring and lets her tag along.
She has never been an expert in children, avoids them whenever she can. They're too young and naïve both of which sicken her. Yet even she can tell when one is just different. She almost wants to compare the girl to her grandmother, then shakes her head immediately to banish the memories that threaten too crawl to the surface once more.
Shizune is mature for her age, already infinitely more responsible than Tsunade. While she eventually gives in to the chuunin's badgering and teaches her the healing arts, she can't shake the feeling of wrongness that makes her skin itch every time the girl looks at her. There's something in those dark eyes she can't place, couldn't name even if she tried. Tsunade is not quite far enough gone to abandon a child yet she still feels like she can breathe easier when Shizune is not around.
Years come and go as they travel, move from place to place, never staying anywhere for long. Time and continued exposure made it easier for Tsunade to ignore the itch young Shizune gives her. The girl is a teen now, the same age Tsunade was when she experienced her first taste of war. It is for that reason that she makes sure to always stay far away from areas of conflict. She's scarred, scarred and helpless. She raised and taught the girl well enough to defend them should the need arise.
Tsunade herself is useless. The knowledge sits right in the front row of her mind and the only way to silence it is to drink, gamble, forget. She's a mess of a human and if she stops to think about it for even a second, she drowns.
Tsunade doesn't think. Doesn't stop. Keeps running, running and running while Shizune follows, follows and follows.
Shizune grows up to be smart, beautiful and kind. A combination that turns heads wherever they go yet without fail, she declines advances left and right. Oftentimes she's not even aware of the way men and boys stare at her, how they blush when she smiles. Tsunade sees and notices. She's not a mother to this young woman, never has been. She's taken things for granted before and Shizune's unwavering loyalty is not something she's willing to let go unquestioned.
“What is wrong with you?” She's drunk, irritated by the old man staring at her chest and hates the way Shizune's eyes rest only on her instead of the impossibly attractive female currently trying to gain the dark-haired medic's attention.
“Tsunade-sama?” she asks, confused, her doe-like eyes dark and wide. Tsunade snarls and leans closer before grabbing Shizune by her collar and dragging her outside.
“What,” she begins and takes a swing at the woman who dodges effortlessly,
“the fuck,” Tsunade continues and kicks the ground, sending shockwaves across the ground that deliberately don't spread to the area Shizune jumps to,
“is wrong with you?!” She launches herself at the younger woman, throws punch after punch, all heavy with chakra yet slow, so slow that evading them is child's play.
“Tsunade-sama!” Shizune cries out and fails to step out of the way of Tsunade's fist. It stops a mere hair's breadth away from her nose.
“You're old enough to go off and do whatever the fuck you want to do. Why the hell are you still here?!” she demands, breathing heavily, her face right up in Shizune's personal space. She's fury and anger, confusion and hurt and channels all this unwanted emotion in the only way she can. Shizune's eyes widen comically as her body relaxes. She closes them for a second, then huffs a quiet chuckle before opening them once more. They're soft and kind and Tsunade can barely stand the sight.
“You're worth following.” Tsunade rears back as if slapped, stares at her companion for a few silent seconds, then marches off. The words disgust her. So does Shizune.
(She runs for days without stopping, anything to shake and leave the girl behind. A week later, when she's shivering on the ground coated in blood, helpless against the Iwa nin that surround her, Shizune is back and kills them all within seconds. She stops trying to get rid of her after that.)
“Don't you want to go home?” she asks her, just once. She's not prepared for the answer.
“Home is where the heart is,” Shizune says and smiles and while Tsunade knows the woman doesn't mean it like that, has no feelings for her, the itch to run away from her returns. Those who are attached to her, die. She's cursed. She can't lose Shizune. Not her. Not now. Not ever.
“I will always be by your side. It's my duty.” Tsunade's throat is dry. Still, she croaks:
“Duty?” Shizune doesn't answer and for the fraction of a second, Tsunade sees the same darkness in her eyes that she's seen only once before. Something about it terrifies her into dropping the subject and never bringing it up again.
Contrary to popular opinion, it is not the boy that reminds her too much of Nawaki, that manages to bring her back to the village.
Instead, it is Shizune who solemnly approaches her with her head bowed low and eyes cast at the ground.
“Konoha is where you need to be, Tsunade-sama.” She speaks those words with such reverence, heavy with emotion and something else, that Tsunade finds herself unable to deny her.
For the first time in decades, she returns to her birthplace. A rush of power floods her veins as she first sets foot on her ancestral homeland and if she didn't know better, she'd claim that the land welcomed her back.
The village is the same, yet so very different. Tsunade's not entirely sure how to feel about that so she sticks to the various bars in between gruelling hours she's chained to that damned desk. She regrets taking the job more with each day that passes and her only saving grace is that damnable woman. Shizune is her assistant now and while Tsunade can't remember ever having appointed her to the position, she never once questions it.
She makes a great show out of chiding the blonde for her drinking habit in public yet always waits exactly an hour before showing up at whatever sake bar Tsunade has fled to. Whenever the advisers test her patience too much, they're distracted by the dark-haired medic with some made up problem that gets them out of her office. On days that Tsunade has to drink to not drown in despair, Shizune always makes sure the door stays locked.
Rationally, Tsunade knows that after years of travelling together, the brat knows her inside out. The quiet voice at the very back of her mind, can't help but wonder if perhaps there's more to Shizune than she previously thought.
“The girl is a problem.” And fuck, if that isn't the understatement of the century. Konoha's numer one problem case and instead of improving under Hatake's guidance, the kid gets worse. The reports are worrying. If anything, Tsunade now fully understands why and how Chigiri happened in the first place.
“If she keeps dancing out of line I'll have to put her down,” she grumbles to herself and out of the corner of her eye, notices the way Shizune stills. She waits and then:
“She doesn't belong here. She needs to return home.” Tsunade recognises that tone, heard it once before on the night that Shizune convinced her to return to Konoha.
“The girl's ANBU. I can't just hand her over to Kiri,” she points out as she pours herself another cup of sake.
“You have to.” Tsunade blinks twice, then stares at Shizune who meets her gaze unflinchingly.
“Are you telling me how to do my job?” Usually, the accusation is enough to make her back off. Not this time.
“She's... she's like you. You returned home so you can grow. She needs the same opportunity. You have to keep the balance.” It's so unlike Shizune to be that frustratingly cryptic that Tsunade is at a loss of words. By the time she recovers enough to ask questions, Shizune refuses to answer.
The next time the council demands the execution of Haruno Sakura, Tsunade denies them. It's not the last time.
“She's one of mine, isn't she?”
“Yes. She is.”
“What is that?” Shizune jumps in surprise, then whirls around. In her hand she holds a small golden coin with symbols etched into the metal that Tsunade can dimly recall having seen before. Behind her, now partially covered by her body, is a small shrine covered in candles and a random assortment of objects. One of them is a bottle of sake.
“N- nothing!” Shizune is a terrible liar and, curiosity successfully roused, Tsunade steps closer to inspect the shrine. She can't decipher any of the symbols that are carved into the wood and look almost like a language. Yet the objects... Tsunade furrows her brows.
“If you were anyone else I'd lose my patience right about now.” A bottle of sake, a set of dice, a medical scroll, a bundle of lavender and a thin strand of blonde hair. It's fucking creepy but unless her judgement has grievously failed her, Shizune is not likely to have evil intentions.
“My... my family was faithful. I... I am praying for your safety and health.” Tsunade squints at Shizune, searches for a sign of deception but finds none.
“I thought I taught you better than that.” Faith and fairy tales leave a bad taste in her mouth even though she doesn't know why.
“It's family tradition, Tsunade-sama. I don't want it to end with me.” Tsunade doesn't find it within herself to sneer. Shizune is, and forever will be, exempt to her scorn and prejudices.
“Fine. But if you steal my sake for your prayers you're dead meat.” Shizune smiles and while Tsunade feels an instinctive urge to shudder, she suppresses it. Shizune is old enough to do what she likes and if it makes her happy, then fuck it, Tsunade can put up with it.
Despite tolerating and indulging Shizune's odd habits, Tsunade finds herself watching the woman ever so slightly closer. As result of that, she starts noticing all the little oddities she glanced over for years. Like how Shizune is the one who actually refills her hidden sake and not, like she initially thought, herself in a drunken stupor. Or how Shizune brings her food, snacks, sweets, whatever Tsunade currently desires and presents the items to her almost like... offerings.
The woman shows deference, voices her opinions as suggestions, acts as a shield between her and the rest of the world whenever the need arises.
Shizune has always taken care of her more than Tsunade has ever taken care of Shizune. But this... this is different. The woman doesn't treat her like a superior, or someone she looks up to. No. If anything, Shizune acts like a dignified servant to a wilful goddess.
Remembering the shrine and the mention of her family's traditions, Tsunade bites her cheek, then vows to stop thinking about it.
Ignoring and closing her eyes to what happens around her is getting harder and harder.
“They're weird.” She sounds like a petulant child as she side-eyes the gaggle of females that are grouped up a few feet away from the gates. Four women, two of which had no known history with each other or the Kiri duo acted like old acquaintances from the get-go. It made Tsunade suspicious and restless.
“I think you're quite similar,” Shizune offers, who has become increasingly cryptic lately. They had quite a few rows in the past weeks when Shizune kept insisting Tsunade give in to half of the Mizukage's outrageous demands.
“Whose side are you on?” she had yelled at the dark-haired medic in frustration.
“Yours of course,” Shizune replied as she watched Tsunade sign her latest letter to Terumi Mei.
“Doesn't feel like it.”
“Everything I do serves your best interest. Even if you don't think so.” Tsunade had let it go then.
“This is going to be a fucking nightmare, isn't it?” she asks Shizune hours later as both prepare for the banquet.
“It's not our fight.” Tsunade's breath stills.
“Fight?” she asks. Shizune shakes her head and smiles, then proceeds to fasten a faded golden sash around Tsunade's festive white dress.
“A metaphor.” A lie.
The following weeks are a disaster and Tsunade prepares herself for yet another war.
“Who do we fight for?” she asks, tired and slumped over her desk, feeling every single year deep in her bones. Her hair is a mess and in front of her are two letters, each awaiting a signature. A decision she must make no matter how much she doesn't want to. Not another war. Not again. Anything but that. Tsunade jumps when Shizune's hands gently close around hers, caressing it, before pulling the pen from her grasp.
“Ourselves,” she breathes and looks at Tsunade with such warmth and certainty that for a single moment, she allows herself to drown in her eternal companion's silent strength.
Konoha reinforces its borders. Every day she wakes up, Tsunade is terrified and every day she wakes up, Shizune holds her hand.
“LET ME GO! I HAVE- I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING!” Jiraiya weeps as he seals his godson into a prison only Tsunade can release him from.
“It's for the best,” she tells him. That night, she crawls into Shizune's bed and lets her hold her as she falls asleep.
“It's over,” the messenger says and Tsunade nods. She looks at the casualty list later. She doesn't cry for the names she recognises but asks Shizune to light a candle for them nevertheless.
“Do you want to know?” Shizune, who holds all the answers, asks only once. Tsunade shakes her head. She doesn't want to know. Doesn't need to. Her stomach aches and her insides burn but she grits her teeth and forces herself to go on. It's over. It's over, it's over, it's over and she doesn't need to know.
Years go by and as the memories fade, peace returns. Tsunade rubs her forehead as she works through yet another stack of paper. She truly ought to give up the hat at some point. Yet who is she to give it to? Jiraiya who has started to slow down ages ago? Hatake, who doesn't want it and would refuse it a million times over? A Nara? The idiot? Ha. No way. Truly, Tsunade doesn't know anybody who could possibly assume the position- Oh.
“Have you ever thought about becoming Hokage?” Shizune looks up, startled, then chuckles nervously.
“Ah. No, mylady. I have more important duties to attend to.” Tsunade frowns as she regards the woman whose age finally begins to show in faint creases around her eyes.
“You can't possibly want to spend your whole life taking care of me. Don't you want a family of your own?” Shizune blinks twice, then tilts her head to the side and smiles.
“Perhaps one day. Once I have succeeded.”
“Succeeded? With what?” Tsunade questions, unsure why. She's known Shizune for decades and gave up on trying to properly understand her long ago. Some people you merely have to love and appreciate. Shizune is one of them.
“Supporting you, of course.” Of course. She wants to shake the woman and yell at her until she stops being so disgustingly selfless but age taught her how to pick her battles. Despite being physically stronger than Shizune, ironically enough Tsunade has never truly won a single fight against her.
“Your chakra must be working overtime. Don't you worry you'll run out soon?” Tsunade frowns at Jiraiya.
“What do you mean?” She knocks back another cup of sake before signalling for more. They meet up occasionally when the man is in the village and Tsunade has a few precious hours in which nobody requires her attention.
“You're almost sixty years old, hime. Don't you feel tired?” She blinks in confusion, hand frozen mid-air. He's right. She is a mere year away from reaching her sixth decade. Tsunade squints at Jiraiya, takes in the way he can't sit up straight anymore, the slowness in his movements and the faint milky sheen over his eyes. He's an old man. When did that happen?
“...no. I feel fine,” she replies quietly. She does. She shouldn't, but she does.
“Maybe it's time for you to retire? I don't want you to burn yourself out,” he says with concern in his voice and Tsunade swallows audibly as her hands reach for another cup just to distract herself. She's not going to burn out. She's taken it for granted, yet now Tsunade realises just how many years have passed and how little they affected her. Her limbs are agile, her body strong, her byakugou brimming with constrained chakra. She's supposed to slow down and decline. And yet...
She feels fine. Why does she feel fine?!
In the privacy of her bedroom, Tsunade undresses and stands in front of her mirror. Then, she drops the henge only to gasp in horror.
“Something is happening to me and I don't know what it is,” she whispers, terrified as Shizune moves a blanket around her shoulders to hide her young, fresh, timeless body, from view.
“Power.” Tsunade stares at Shizune through wide honey-coloured eyes.
“It's power. And it's yours.”
The following morning, she leaves her home without her henge. Nobody notices.
“What... what is this?” A mountain of letters of packages await her as she enters her office on her sixtieth birthday.
“Cards and gifts. The civilians love you.”
Shizune calls them cards and gifts, yet all Tsunade hears is offerings.
“For someone who never wanted the job you sure keep doing it.”
“Shut up, Jiraiya.”
“Today, we have gathered to pay our last respects to council members Utatane and Mitokado-” Tsunade stands in the rain as she addresses the large gathering in front of her. Shizune holds an umbrella over her head as she stands right beside her, as she always has (always will.)
“Hi...me...” Cold tears touch his wrinkled cheeks. He coughs once, twice, then stills.
“...goodbye, J- Jiraiya.”
“So...” Tsunade raises her eyebrows at the slouching Nara who keeps looking back and forth between her and Shizune who's busy sorting through countless folders in search for a very specific document.
“Spit it out,” she barks at him before grumbling and signing yet another letter to the daimyo. That man is one demanding son of a bitch.
“Your, ah, birthday is coming up.”
“Again?” she mumbles quietly to herself. Damn day keeps sneaking up on her.
“Yeah. Birthdays tend to do that once a year.” She raises her head and narrows her eyes.
“Careful, Nara,” Tsunade growls and threateningly waves her pen in his direction.
“Seventy is a big number,” the boy – man – offers and doesn't miss Tsunade's subtle flinch. Seventy, huh?
“I don't want presents. Or a party. Tell everyone I order them to forget about it.” She's tired of these celebrations that keep happening faster than she can keep track of. She briefly looks at her hand, the taut skin and the strong muscle, and ignores the queasiness in her belly.
“So there will be no... announcement?” Announcement? What announcement? The Nara shuffles in place and avoids her eyes.
“For your retirement.” She stares at him, long and hard.
“I feel fine.”
“Yeah... I suppose you do,” he replies with a glint in his eyes Tsunade doesn't like. He turns his head towards Shizune and whatever silent conversation they're having, Tsunade isn't privy to its contents.
“Alright. Naruto doesn't want the hat anyway. He's much happier with his family,” the Nara adds with a shrug before giving a lazy wave and leaving the office.
“Congratulations. I heard about your engagement,” Tsunade mentions casually during dinner. Shizune's mouth opens, then closes.
“I... Tsunade-hime, I turned him down.” Tsunade blinks, then slowly resumes chewing. Shizune, unbothered, refills her own plate without a care in the world.
“Don't throw your life away for my sake,” she warns her for the last time. The other woman gives a simple shrug, then replaces Tsunade's empty bottle with a new one.
“I'm sure I will be fine. I have faith,” she says like it's supposed to mean something. To Tsunade's surprise, it does.
Tsunade is seventy-two, when war returns. It's Iwa that ruins her village, kills her people, treads upon her land. She ignores her advisers, council, and everyone else who tries to tell her to stay behind where it's safe. She listens to Shizune who hands her the same golden sash she insists she wear to every official event and who tells her to make them regret their decision to attack her realm.
She's fury, she's power, she's war and she will show them what happens to those who cross her.
She fights for days. She never tires, never rests, never eats or drinks. Her chakra reserves are endless and while she makes the earth shatter and crumble, brings down mountains and forcibly drags her women and men away from death's door, she never runs out of energy. She's unstoppable. Iwa surrenders within the week. The peace talks go well.
Until an enraged vigilante blows the building and everyone inside to pieces.
After all this time, she has stopped thinking about death. Somewhere along the way it turned into a removed possibility, then little more than a concept that matters to other who are not her. Her, who doesn't age, doesn't change, forever stays the same. Now that she floats in darkness, unaware and peaceful, entirely alone in this empty void, she feels... unsatisfied. Wrong. Like she's been cheated out of something she can't name. Like she's supposed to be more.
Just then, a single bright light flashes in the distance. It flares up again and again, pulsing almost like a heartbeat. She's curious so she wills herself closer and closer until she's directly in front of it. It's surprisingly warm and not nearly as blinding as she expected. There's only thing for her to do, so she reaches out and touches it.
“Once upon a time, there was a power in this land, so strong and mighty, it fed the land and those who lived in it. Why, your very ancestor Hashirama was the last wielder of Konoha's great power. It was called The Wild and it rested in every tree, every animal, every blade of grass. It gave life and nature to those who believed in it. Hashirama used it to end war and bring peace. He restored it to its former glory and made the land strong and resilient.”
“Where is it now?”
“Well Tsunade-chan, power needs to be believed in. Hashirama died of old age and The Wild was never reclaimed. None of his people were found worthy and in time, they forgot. Nobody believed in it anymore. So it died.”
“...that's so sad...”
“Yes. It is. But don't worry, my dear princess. One day, you will bring it back.”
“Me?”
“On the day you were born, those of us who still practise the old ways felt a shockwave ripple through the land. It was bright, warm and white. It came from you.”
“But... but I'm just me.”
“No. You are more than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are the future.”
“Some are meant for greatness, princess. You are one of those rare few who are destined to be more.”
“You are power, child. It's in every cell of your body, in every breath you take, in every move you make. One day, it will come to claim you. Make sure you are ready for it.”
“You will do great.”
“You're worth following.”
“Konoha is where you need to be, Tsunade-sama.”
“It's power. And it's yours.”
“A...ni...ma...”
When she opens her eyes, the world around her is changed. It's brighter, less vivid and run through by strands of white and gold. She, too, is different. She lies on her back on a bed and above her, is a woman so bright she shines like a beacon and drowns out everyone around her.
“Mylady,” she speaks as she goes down on her knees, followed by the countless men and women surrounding them. She rises, looks at her arms which are covered in glowing white lines that cover her entire body before surveying the masses through equally white eyes.
“You,” she says and looks at the one in front of her.
“Rise.” The woman obeys and she can't help but marvel at the sheer intensity of her aura.
“You are special,” she states.
“I am your guide,” this one replies and she lifts her hand and rests her palm against the woman's forehead.
“You have done well.” The woman nods and lowers her head, then asks:
“What are you, mylady?” Whispers enter her mind and she tonelessly repeats the words they offer her:
“I am life. I am healing. I am fortune.”
“I am Anima.”
Men and women kneel for her, call her name, pray to her and celebrate her. Konoha is alive and brimming with its ancient power that has finally taken shape and chosen a worthy wielder once more. Their faith has given rise to her, and it feeds her, keeps her strong, secures her place among the ancient ones in the world.
Time passes. Konoha prospers. She forever stays the same.
(Decades later when Shizune is old, frail and about to fall asleep for the last time she does not wake up, as expected, to nothingness. Instead she opens her eyes and right there above her and offering her hand, is Anima. She does not smile, has unlearned how to show human emotion long ago. Yet still on her face, Shizune sees an echo of days long gone.
“My faithful never die.”)