Chapter 23: You Wouldn't Want to…
"Tsunade-sama."
Seeing that escape was no longer an option, Namikaze Yami put on what he considered his friendliest smile and greeted her.
Tsunade released Nawaki—who had once again been beaten black and blue—and beckoned Yami over with a curl of her finger. The expression on her face was… hard to read.
"Um… Tsunade-sama," Yami said solemnly, "Nawaki and I leave for the front lines tomorrow. It might not be very convenient to spar today."
He was hoping this would dissuade her from beating him up.
After all, they were departing tomorrow, and it was already late afternoon. Surely Tsunade wouldn't still be hanging around the training grounds at this hour—otherwise Yami wouldn't have dared come here to get a feel for his blade work.
"No problem," Tsunade replied, utterly unconcerned. She patted her chest, her casual clothes doing little to hide her figure. "It won't affect your condition tomorrow. I'll go easy."
Yami's gaze drifted for half a second. Before he realized it, he'd nodded. He hurriedly corrected himself, "I—I'm here to practice swordsmanship today."
Tsunade kicked Nawaki beside her. Completely understanding the cue, Nawaki rummaged through his ninja pouch, pulled out a kunai, and presented it respectfully.
"???"
Yami stared at Nawaki in disbelief, his eyes screaming: You thick-browed traitor—how could you defect so cleanly?!
After a whole morning of getting pummeled, Nawaki could only offer a silent apology. As the saying went, better you than me. He turned his head and pretended not to see anything.
But Yami still underestimated Tsunade's determination to beat him up. Before he could even react, she planted a kick squarely on his backside, sending him tumbling in a cloud of dust to the edge of the field.
Realizing there was no avoiding it, Yami steeled himself and decided to strike first. He drew his newly purchased short blade in a smooth motion, chakra bursting from his feet as he lunged at Tsunade like a gust of wind!
When experts clash, the difference is immediately apparent. Even with nothing but a kunai in hand, Tsunade's casual block sent a numbing shock through Yami's arm; his blade nearly flew from his grasp.
Yami didn't dare underestimate her. He immediately invoked the blade techniques he'd learned from Kuriarare Kushimaru, and his entire aura shifted.
Tsunade had initially been a little dismissive—after all, he was new to swordsmanship, and blades were unforgiving. She'd been worried about injuring him.
But the longer they fought, the more startled she became.
His swordplay was growing—rapidly. Techniques that had been riddled with openings moments ago were sharpening before her eyes, refining themselves at a visible pace. It was like a venomous serpent lurking in the shadows, poised to strike at any moment.
Yami was also rapidly absorbing real combat experience through the spar. Swordsmanship was unlike ninjutsu—there were no hand seals to shortcut the process. Timing, spacing, and control mattered far more.
He slashed again from a vicious angle. Forced back by the kunai's short reach, Tsunade had to retreat, losing the effortless composure she'd worn earlier.
At this point, Tsunade grew fully serious. She wasn't particularly skilled with blades—only better than the average shinobi—but that was enough.
Her stance shifted abruptly from defense to offense. The power riding the kunai changed completely as she hacked straight at Yami.
Yami reversed his grip and blocked, just about to counter—
Crack!
After repeated clashes, the kunai in Tsunade's hand snapped in two. A knowing smile curved her lips.
The arm that had held the kunai pulled back instantly, opening a gap. In the same heartbeat, her free hand drove straight into the opening at Yami's waist.
He couldn't dodge in time. The punch slammed home, and he felt ribs give way with a sickening jolt. Flesh swelled instantly; a searing pain flared through him.
Tsunade pressed the advantage with a follow-up hook. Yami gritted his teeth through the pain and slashed to force space. Tsunade didn't contest it, drawing her fist back—
—and in the same motion launched a lateral Heavenly Kick of Pain. If that had landed cleanly, Yami would've been finished on the spot.
He retreated in a hurry, one arm clamped over his waist, sucking in cold breaths as he waved his free hand to signal he was done.
Tsunade, realizing that last punch had been a bit heavy—by her judgment, a fracture at best—halted.
Only then did Yami notice that even the short blade he'd bought that morning had curled at the edge under Tsunade's monstrous force, reduced to a sorry sight.
He gave a wry smile, unsure whether he'd recover in time for tomorrow.
Just then, Nawaki came trotting over, all too familiar with the routine, sidling up beside Yami and briskly rolling up his clothes.
Tsunade walked over slowly, her palms glowing with a soft green chakra—nothing like the berserk surge of the Eight Gates. This chakra was gentle, like spring water.
"Well damn," Yami muttered. "So your fists come with antiseptic—beat people up, then disinfect?"
Now he understood why Tsunade had been so confident this wouldn't affect their readiness tomorrow. This was the plan all along. Judging by Nawaki's practiced movements, he'd taken plenty of beatings that morning.
Under medical ninjutsu, Nawaki bounced back quickly, even the bruises on his face vanishing.
Tsunade shooed him aside and looked to Yami, gesturing for him to lift his clothes.
He copied Nawaki and rolled up his shirt. Unlike Nawaki's still-boyish frame, Yami's body—honed by long training—had shot up in height, muscles clearly defined beneath the fabric.
Tsunade's glowing hands pressed lightly. In moments, the swelling faded; the hairline fractures beneath the skin knit back together.
"Good body," she said evenly.
Yami wasn't sure what she meant by that and could only smile awkwardly.
"When you're at the front tomorrow," Tsunade said suddenly, "I'll be counting on you to look after Nawaki… he's my only brother."
The worry in her words was unmistakable. Combined with her slightly disheveled collar from the fight, a glimpse of pale skin showed beneath—unintentionally distracting.
Seeing this Tsunade, so different from before, a treacherous thought flickered through Yami's mind:
Oneechan… you wouldn't want your brother to get hurt on the battlefield, right? Heh heh heh.
He kept it firmly inside his head. If he ever said that out loud, he'd be defecting by nightfall—Konoha would have no place for him.
He simply nodded and answered seriously, "Nawaki's my friend too. Don't worry, Tsunade-nee."
She studied him for a long moment, then said nothing more. After confirming his injuries were fine, she nodded and turned back toward Nawaki, who had already regained his energy and was stretching enthusiastically.
Moments later, Nawaki's screams echoed across the training field once again.
Yami shook his head helplessly. That kid really was blessed. He wouldn't trade places with him for the world—but watching a life-winner get pummeled did bring a certain guilty satisfaction.
Soon, Nawaki was flattened on the ground once more.
And Tsunade's gaze…
once again shifted to Yami.
His hair stood on end.
It seemed Tsunade had decided that, for the sake of escorting her brother safely to the front, she would be a demon instructor for the entire day.