Chapter Forty-Eight: Beast, Let Go of That Woman

It was not yet deep into the night, and the commercial district of the Hidden Leaf Village was still bustling. Though it lacked the daytime’s cacophony, it was nonetheless radiant with a sea of lights. Passersby filled the streets—not just villagers and shinobi of the Leaf but also a scattering of foreign merchants from across the ninja world.

Yet, among the crowds, one duo drew particular attention: a man and a woman. The man wore the uniform of a Jonin from the Hidden Leaf, his hair a tousled shade of light blue. The woman was dressed in an emerald priestess robe and lay cradled in the man’s arms, her head turned inward against his chest so her features were hidden, but her long golden hair cascaded down, unmistakable.

They were none other than Mikaze Kato and Tsunade, just out from the Kikugawa Tavern. Mikaze carried Tsunade in his arms, making his way toward her home. With his strength and stamina, holding Tsunade was effortless. In truth, he relished it; if he could, he would hold her like this forever, until the end of time itself.

Mikaze walked unhurriedly, unconcerned by the curious gazes cast his way. In his earlier, weaker days, he might have cared about the opinions and whispers of strangers. But as his strength grew, so too did his indifference toward idle gossip and the trivial scrutiny of the masses. After all, human nature thrived on gossip and spectacle; it was only natural. Many villagers and shinobi recognized Mikaze and could easily guess the identity of the woman in his arms.

The rumor had long made its rounds: a young man with light blue hair from the Kato clan was fervently pursuing the Leaf’s Princess Tsunade. Nearly everyone in the village had heard it by now, and the sight was no longer surprising.

When Mikaze encountered acquaintances, he greeted them without missing a beat. As for whether Tsunade cared about the stares and gossip, her own disposition was carefree and unrestrained. Otherwise, as the Leaf’s princess—a beautiful young noblewoman—she would not have spent her days mingling in the male-dominated gambling dens.

Tsunade had gotten drunk before, and it was always Mikaze who brought her back home. Among all her suitors, Mikaze was the most persistent, never shying away from her side. Still, this was the first time she had drunk herself into such a stupor that she needed to be carried home, unconscious. Previously, she’d only ever leaned on him for support; he’d never even made it past her door.

Tsunade was strong-willed, resilient, and had possessed monstrous strength since childhood. Her temper was short, and her fists did most of her talking. As far as Mikaze knew, she had rarely shown any vulnerability. In all his time pursuing her, he had seen Tsunade’s softer side only a handful of times. Recently, perhaps as she began to accept him, she would occasionally let her gentle side show in his presence.

Now, Mikaze was intoxicated—literally and figuratively—by her scent and presence. His mind was free from the usual distractions: no watching new shows, reading novels, or playing games as an otaku might. He walked through the night-shrouded village, cradling Tsunade, his heart brimming with tenderness and aching concern for her.

As the granddaughter of the First Hokage, she was the village’s princess. Yet her illustrious clan had fallen into decline while she was still a child. Aside from her aging grandmother, the Nine-Tails’ Jinchuriki, she had only her younger brother to rely on. Two years ago, her grandmother passed away, leaving only the siblings behind.

No matter how strong or carefree she appeared, no matter how powerful a kunoichi she became, Tsunade was still a woman—one who needed a shoulder to lean on.

Mikaze’s heart ached for the woman passed out in his arms—the one with the foul temper, the violent streak, the sharp tongue, and all her myriad flaws. The woman he loved. He had once thought his feelings for Tsunade were merely physical, a desire to fulfill fantasies from his previous life. But now he understood: what he felt for her went far deeper.

As he held Tsunade’s alluring form, his thoughts were pure—free from the darkness he’d seen in the world, from the schemes of Danzo and Orochimaru, or the grim realities of the underground base he’d visited earlier that day. Only love and concern remained; all he wanted was to protect Tsunade in the chaos of the ninja world.

Never had Mikaze felt such an urgent desire to grow stronger. He had the advantage of having lived a previous life familiar with the storyline, and now, with the ninja system, he had worked hard to become a newly promoted Jonin, mastering secret techniques of the soul. But it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. With the Second Great Ninja War fast approaching, then the Third, and the chaos of the Fourth, he knew his strength still fell woefully short.

When they reached Tsunade’s modest home, Mikaze sensed with his soul perception that her brother Nawaki was absent—perhaps out on a mission or training. He retrieved the key from Tsunade’s robe, unlocked the door, and carried her inside, laying her gently on her bed.

Thankfully, there was hot water. He poured a glass and left it on the bedside table—for nothing was worse than waking up parched after a night of drinking.

He removed her ceremonial robe and hung it neatly aside. By habit, after a night of drinking, Mikaze would take a hot bath before bed, and it would be best for Tsunade as well. He had the means to help her bathe, using a few chakra techniques if needed, but though their relationship had grown close, there was still an unspoken barrier he dared not cross.

Was he a beast, or not even that? He was no saint—he’d been around the block in his last life—but Tsunade was different. He couldn’t simply take advantage of her, and, besides, what if she woke and pounded him into the floor?

“No,” he told himself, “I’m not shallow. I want all of Tsunade’s heart and body, not just her body.” So, no bath tonight; a warm towel would have to suffice. He didn’t remove her clothes or pants. If he chose to be a gentleman, he would see it through.

He gently wiped her face, hands, and feet. As he did, a heat welled up inside him—a heat he hadn’t felt in years, not since mastering the nature and transformation of wind chakra.

Her flushed cheeks and golden hair spilled freely, more charming than her usual ponytail. Her delicate toes, her slender neck leading down to playful collarbones, and further—wait, why weren’t his hands obeying him? Damn it, he would be flattened if she woke up. She was just too adorable, too tempting… He couldn’t take it anymore… Her face was growing even redder…

In the end, Mikaze mustered all his willpower to restrain his wandering hands. He quickly finished wiping her down, drew up a quilt to cover her, and tidied the room. Having drunk himself earlier, he was parched, so he gulped down the hot water he’d prepared for Tsunade and poured a fresh glass.

His soul perception told him Nawaki was almost home; best not to be caught by his future brother-in-law. He pressed a kiss to Tsunade’s forehead, checked that all was in order, then turned off the lights and locked the door. With a breath of wind chakra, he slipped out the window, casting Body Flicker to vanish into the night.

Inside the moonlit bedroom, Tsunade, who had been sleeping on her back, rolled onto her side, hugging the quilt Mikaze had arranged into a tangled bundle against her chest and under her legs. Her eyes were open, gazing out into the night, her cheeks still flushed, her mind swimming in a haze—whether from the drink or the heat of moments before, it was hard to say.

“Idiot… fool… coward… you had such nerve yesterday, and now… big idiot, big coward, you’re so bold yet so timid…”

She muttered softly, hearing her brother’s key at the door. Stretching out her fair fingers, she grabbed the glass of water Mikaze had left, drinking most of it in one go. Then she rolled over, back to the window, kicked the quilt into place, and closed her eyes.

Soon, the gentle, rhythmic sound of her breathing filled the room.

…