Haruto Saito's actions were intense—he had already decided to throw caution to the wind, and there was no turning back. With that resolve, he completely let go of his inhibitions.
Tsunade, on the other hand, instinctively resisted at first. She was drunk, and her resistance was subconscious. But soon, she relaxed again, softly responding to Haruto's kiss. It wasn't that she fully accepted what was happening, but rather that it felt... nice. It felt good.
Her fair, jade-like arms wrapped around Haruto's neck. Tsunade's breathing quickened slightly. As Haruto held her, she held onto him as well. The two of them shifted positions, rolling over, and now, it was Tsunade pressing down on Haruto, kissing him as if she had taken the initiative.
Haruto no longer cared about the consequences.
Originally, he had no intention of getting involved with Tsunade in such a murky way. But she was the one who had provoked him first.
Kissing Tsunade's lips, then her cheek, moving downward, pressing kisses along her shoulders...
Tsunade's flushed cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red in her drunken state. It was as if she sensed what was about to happen—her hands fumbled, her body twisted uncomfortably, and her breathing grew heavier. The haze of alcohol clouded both their minds.
Haruto loosened the sash of his robe, then gently turned over once more. His hand slid downward, fingertips tracing along Tsunade's smooth legs.
The night was shrouded in a dreamy haze. Outside the window, the moon seemed to blush and retreat behind the clouds.
Tsunade suddenly furrowed her brows. A fleeting pang of discomfort brought a brief moment of clarity to her eyes. But in the next instant, the dizzying intoxication mixed with an indescribable pleasure filled her gaze once more.
The bed creaked softly. Shadows swayed.
On this night, a certain boy—who had always been called a "damn brat"—completed his transformation from a boy to a man.
And a certain "damn woman"... became a true woman.
Haruto seemed tireless.
Who knew how much time had passed?
Tsunade felt like she had drifted into a dream—a beautiful dream. She felt like she was floating on clouds, rocking gently, accompanied by soft murmurs that she couldn't quite make out.
She felt as if her body was completely out of control. She plummeted from the clouds, only to be lifted again by the wind, then fall once more. A wave of weakness washed over her entire being. She struggled with all her might, but she couldn't grasp onto anything. She wanted to hold onto something—anything—but there was nothing solid within reach.
In the chaotic dance of light and shadow before her eyes, she seemed to see a face. A face she both disliked... and liked.
Thud!
A dull impact echoed through the room.
"I'm dead!" was Haruto's final thought before everything went black. He knew he had screwed up.
Tsunade was still drunk, yet her instinctive movements carried immense power. With her monstrous strength, even an unintentional swing of her hand could cause serious damage. Haruto had no idea how she had moved, but somehow, her unconscious reaction sent a blow straight to the back of his head.
Haruto blacked out.
Unconscious, sprawled on top of Tsunade.
The night fell into silence.
When the sun rose, a new day began. The village of Konoha, which had been quiet through the night, gradually filled with the sounds of life.
Inside the silent bedroom, the morning sunlight filtered through the window, casting a warm glow across the room.
On the disheveled bed, Tsunade's eyelashes quivered. She stirred, showing signs of waking, but the first thing she did was frown. She felt terrible—her head was pounding.
And it wasn't just her head that hurt.
"Damn it… I really shouldn't have had that drinking contest." Tsunade muttered, slowly opening her eyes.
Immediately, she sensed something was wrong. Her body stiffened, and she instinctively tensed her muscles. Gathering her strength, she turned her head to the side.
Haruto was lying in the crook of her arm, sleeping like a dead log.
Sleeping wasn't the issue—it's not like they hadn't shared a bed before. But the real problem was…
Haruto wasn't wearing anything.
Tsunade's eyes slowly widened. She glanced at Haruto, then at herself. Her expression froze.
Fragments of memory flashed through her mind—broken images, scattered scenes. But then… complete blankness.
Tsunade was stunned.
"What the hell?"
"What the actual hell?!"
Slowly sitting up from the bed, she stared at Haruto, then looked down at herself again. Finally, her gaze shifted to the rumpled bedding… and the conspicuous stain of crimson on the blanket.
Tsunade's body went rigid. A chill ran down her spine. Her mind felt like it had seized up.
Something terrifying had happened.
No—something absolutely terrifying had happened.
Tsunade, eyes wide and vacant, slowly climbed out of bed like a lifeless puppet. Step by step, she walked toward the mirror.
Standing before it, she looked at herself.
A deep, purplish mark stood out against the pale skin of her neck.
Silence.
Tsunade didn't scream like a frightened girl discovering something horrifying. She simply stood there, dazed, her expression blank.
More and more chaotic images flickered in her mind. She could recall fragments of last night, but much of it remained lost in a drunken fog.
She forced herself to think.
Yesterday, she had been in high spirits—she had finally completed the Yin Seal on her own, without Mito Uzumaki's guidance. To celebrate, she had dragged Jiraiya along for a drinking contest at a bustling tavern.
Jiraiya had gotten drunk first—his tolerance was terrible. Tsunade had even mocked him for it.
After that… she remembered leaving the tavern and heading home. The way back had felt long, incredibly long. She had no idea how far she had walked. Her memory grew fuzzier and fuzzier.
She vaguely recalled the dimly lit forest path… and then the warm glow of her courtyard.
She remembered getting home. She had wanted to take a bath.
And then… Haruto? Had Haruto been at her house? In the bathroom?
Tsunade stood in front of the mirror for a long time. Slowly, she turned her head, her gaze shifting back to the bed.
Haruto was still sleeping like a log, sprawled out on his side. His bare back was exposed, and across it, she could see scratch marks.
She lifted her hand and examined her nails. Tiny bits of skin were still lodged beneath them.
It looked like… she had done that.
Tsunade steadied herself, then turned and walked toward a large metal chest in the corner of the room.
She opened it. Inside was an array of pristine weapons—kunai, shuriken, and three blades: two short, one long.
She picked up one of the short blades, examined it, then put it back, unsatisfied.
Then, she pulled out a kunai. This one seemed to suit her mood.
Gripping the kunai in reverse, Tsunade turned and walked toward the bed.
…
When Haruto's consciousness finally surfaced from the darkness, he let out a low groan. His head throbbed—probably a concussion.
Shhhk... shhhk...
A strange sound reached his ears. It was the sound of something being sharpened.
"Damn woman… she hit me way too hard." Haruto grumbled, wanting to lift a hand to rub the back of his head—only to find that he couldn't move his arms.
Muttering curses, he opened his eyes. The unfamiliar setup of the bed confused him for a moment, but then, like a tidal wave, memories came rushing back.
A chill ran down his spine.
He realized he was tied up—almost completely mummified in rope.
"You're awake. Did you sleep well?"
A cold, eerie voice spoke beside him.
Haruto turned his head and nearly had a heart attack.
Tsunade was sitting on a stool next to the bed. In front of her was a small grinding stone. She held a kunai in her hands… slowly sharpening it.
Yes, she was sharpening a knife.