#tsunade hime

[markclarkii]

Tsunade and prints sold here

[captaindelighte]

[hinatsusah]

🍃 Tsunade Senju Aesthetic ❤️

[oh-no-its-bird]

treat? :3

!!!

"Please tell me you did not leave Kakashi alone with Tsunade again." Sakumo begged, and Orochimaru blinked at him, purposefully slow.

"You did not leave Kakashi alone with Tsunade." Jiraiya repeated, and Sakumo groaned as he continued. "You left him with us, and then we left him with hime."

"Only for a moment." Orochimaru added.

Behind them, Kakashi continued to stab his toy kunai into the floor, mumbling angry threats under his breath the way only a 4 year old shinobi child could.

"You both know that Tsunade is not child watching material." Sakumo stressed, and both Jiraiya and Orochimaru averted their eyes guiltily.

"She's fine with Nawaki!" Jiraiya tried, and Sakumo let out an explosive breath.

"Nawaki is a wonderful boy--"

"His sensei's influence, no doubt." Orochimaru interjected idly, examining his nails, and Jiraiya rolled his eyes. Sakumo ignored them both, repeating himself.

"--a wonderful boy, who does not try to assasinate his babysitter when she threatens to leave him in the well for an hour."

"All the more reason to put him in the well."

"Firstly, that is not my point. And secondly, you are not putting my son in the well."

[senjutsunade]

Godaime Characterization

Note: This became a bit too long but I feel will be useful for those who interact with me.

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while, and now that my keyboard’s finally cooperating, it’s time—

My portrayal of Tsunade is that of someone unapologetically snarky and, at times, delightfully full of herself. But this summer, a nagging doubt crept in: am I depicting her right? Or worse, am I letting my own personality bleed into her characterization?

So, I went back to the source. I rewatched every scene of hers in the anime, scrutinized every manga panel featuring her, and came to a glorious conclusion—the woman is a menace. She’s brutal with her words, smug as hell, and absolutely insists on having the last say. Any reservations I had went straight out the window, and my Tsunade officially became the reigning queen of snark.

That left me wondering: why had I doubted myself in the first place? The answer was clear—fandoms. They’re incredible spaces, no question, but sometimes, fanon bleeds into canon so much that the lines blur. Over time, Tsunade’s portrayal shifted. In fanart and fanfiction, she’s often reduced to either the “drunk grandma” trope or a hypersexualized symbol, and somewhere along the way, her canon personality got lost in the shuffle.

But NOT here. Not on this blog. Tsunade is no one’s trope.

Why is she the way she is?

She’s a prodigy, plain and simple. The fandom tends to forget that sometimes. Tsunade became a Genin at six. Six. By the time most kids are learning to tie their shoes, she was already on her way to revolutionizing the medical field—single-handedly, might I add. She defeated Chiyo, the world-renowned poison specialist, while still in her teens. Let that sink in.

She’s also a Senju. One utterly spoiled by her grandfather. Shinobi royalty, through and through, treated as such from the moment she could walk. The “Hime” title isn’t just for kicks—it holds weight. Even Danzō uses it, and we all know he doesn’t do respect lightly. Tsunade was used to getting her way from an early age and rarely, if ever, heard the word “no.”

Her teammates? Just as guilty. Watch any scene with the three of them, and you’ll see it. Jiraiya and Orochimaru practically invented the art of indulging her. No matter how outrageous or dramatic she was being, they always gave in. They solidified her Hime lifestyle long before anyone else could question it.

And then there’s her clan name—that privilege that few in Konoha could dream of having. When she decided she was done with shinobi life and walked away, leaving the village to wander the world, what happened? Nothing. No hunter-nin were sent after her. Anyone else would’ve had a team on their trail within days, but not her. Being a Senju gave her a free pass.

Here’s the thing: Tsunade likes to have her way. Always has. But the difference? She’s got the skillset to back it up. Honestly, who in their right mind would dare to challenge her?

The Konoha I write is a far cry from the idealized version often found in most fan portrayals. There are no shining heroes here—save for Naruto, the outlier. My depiction leans heavily into the grim reality of what it means to be a shinobi.

What are shinobi, truly? They are assassins, thieves, spies, saboteurs, and manipulators, trained from childhood to master the art of psychological warfare. They operate in shadows, their hands stained with blood, their morality twisted into shapes that serve their purpose. Their loyalty isn’t to some lofty ideal of justice—it’s to their Hokage and their nation. Konoha and Hi no Kuni come first. Always.

To protect those, no act is too foul, no line too sacred. Once they fasten that hitai-ate, they cease to be individuals with their own wants or friendships. They become weapons—willing, obedient tools forged in fire and duty. On missions, there is no room for personal morality, no hesitation over relationships or past bonds. A shinobi of Konoha will burn villages, poison wells, and manipulate lives if the mission demands it.

This is the shinobi world—cutthroat, ruthless, and unrelenting. My Konoha basking in sunlight is more an illusion; in truth, it thrives in the shadows, because that’s what it takes to survive.

As the leader of such people, my Tsunade is no heroine. Her loyalty lies with Konoha—her homeland, her inheritance, her duty—and she will protect it at any cost. This is the essence of leadership in a world as brutal as theirs.

Take, for example, the moment she places a bomb seal on Kakashi and sends him to Hiruko, knowing full well it could mean his death. She hates it but goes through with it. Doesn't hesitate—not because she’s heartless, but because the mission demands it. Protecting Konoha always comes first, no matter the personal toll.

Then there’s Jiraiya. Sending him to Ame wasn’t a decision she made lightly, but it was one she made without faltering. He was the best suited for the mission, and as Hokage, her duty was to assign it. Even when it meant sending her oldest friend to what might as well have been his grave. She hated it, but it was her duty to send the best person for the job, even if it was her best friend.

Tsunade’s choices aren’t about heroism; they’re about survival. That’s the cold reality of leading shinobi.

As Hokage, Tsunade isn’t here to coddle her shinobi. She doesn’t have the luxury of being soft or overly kind—not like Sarutobi was. Her leadership is harsh, but fair, grounded in the cold reality of their world. Konoha’s survival depends on it.

The village has lost too much—too many shinobi, too many elite warriors. The wars, the Kyuubi attack, the Uchiha Massacre, the Suna/Oto invasion… each loss has chipped away at Konoha's strength. The names they’ve lost are legendary: Hatake Sakumo, Kato Dan, Namikaze Minato, Uchiha Fugaku, Orochimaru, Uchiha Shisui, and Uchiha Itachi—shinobi who had the power to solidify Konoha’s reputation as the greatest force in the shinobi world. Now? That power is gone.

Tsunade doesn’t have the luxury to be kind. She doesn’t have the luxury to be gentle. Every decision, every action, must be ruthlessly pragmatic. Konoha can’t show weakness. If it does, every other nation will pounce. They’ll capitalize on it—crush that illusion of Konoha's might.

After their defeat in the Third Shinobi war, Kumo and Iwa were desperate for the chance to topple Konoha. Tsunade knows this better than anyone. And she’s prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure the village’s strength isn’t seen as anything less than absolute.

Her personality as Hokage is often reduced to that of an angry, impatient, sullen woman. That’s the general consensus, isn’t it?

Let’s break that down.

Yes, she’s angry. But why?

It’s because the state of Konoha when she returns as Godaime is a direct affront to everything she’s ever stood for. Konoha is barely hanging on, and it terrifies her. The administration? A disaster. The hospital? Using techniques she’d deemed redundant and inferior more than twenty years ago. The village infrastructure? In shambles. The elite shinobi? Either dead or too wounded to serve. Konoha is bleeding out in every sense of the word, and no one is acknowledging the scale of the damage.

They’re broke. The shinobi who remain are spread thin, and they can’t take missions fast enough. Refusing missions? It’s not an option. The clients they depend on would abandon them, and with that would come the collapse of Konoha’s reputation, its economy, and its power. The other villages are hungry, and they would use this vulnerability to tear them apart.

So what does she do? She sends exhausted, overworked shinobi—people who don’t even know her, who are only loyal to the Hokage title she was suddenly thrust into—on missions. No breaks. No recovery. Physically drained, mentally shattered. Tsunade KNOWS how dangerous it is, how damaging this will be. She knows this could ruin any future relationships with these nin, but she has no other choice.

For Konoha’s survival, for the survival of the Will of Fire and everything it stands for, she has to bury her compassion, stifle the medic within her, and step into a role she never wanted.

Because sometimes, survival doesn’t care about what you want. It only cares about what you’re willing to sacrifice. As a war veteran, she understands that.

She lacks patience. Why? Because while all of this is happening—while her focus should be on pulling Konoha from the brink—the damn council insists on getting in her way. They act like they can push her around, like they can dictate the way things are done—the way things have always been done. Politics. She hates that shit. She doesn’t have time to deal with their petty games. But the village is still unstable. The system is crumbling. So she grits her teeth and tolerates their interference, for now. She knows that once she has a firmer grasp on things, once Konoha is breathing again, she’ll finally be able to shove them all out of her way and take control. Until then, it’s just another battle to survive.

She is sullen. Why? Because in a matter of days, her world has been reduced to a narrow, suffocating window. She’s always been a free spirit—wild, untamed, the kind of woman who craved freedom, who spent the last two decades roaming, choosing her own pace, living without the burden of responsibility. Now, she’s shackled to duty. She understands the weight of the job, the honor, the privilege of the seat her ancestors once held. She respects it, gives it her damned best. But it’s a duty she never wanted. And that realization eats at her, slowly, like a poison she can’t spit out. It takes its toll, grinding her down, moment by moment. This was her brother's dream. Her lovers dream. Her having it is a double edged knife.

She’s back in a village that mirrors the one she left behind, yet it feels so alien. So many faces are missing—comrades, friends, family—gone, never to return. Does anyone else realize that an entire generation—her generation—never made it home from the war? That she’s one of the few survivors, one of the handful of nin out of hundreds? Do they understand the emptiness that lingers in the village, the gaping hole left by those who used to fill it? She does. And it fucking hurts. She barely recognizes anyone here anymore. The ones she does know—Shikaku, Inoichi, Choza, Kakashi, Genma—she remembers them as bumbling, clumsy Gennin and Chūnin. Not as the adults they’ve become. It’s… disorienting. The sharp, bitter jolt of seeing them as grown nin. Something she didn’t expect.

She’s fucking irritated. The state of the village, the crumbling infrastructure, the political cesspool she’s had to wade into—it’s all too much. And it's endless. Paperwork and reports pile up like a mountain she has to climb every damn day. She's forced to get reacquainted with the village she once knew so well, only to realize that it’s changed in ways she could never have imagined. The entire structure has shifted since her absence. The leadership, the economic landscape, the political networks—everything has morphed into something she never trained for, never prepared for.

She was never meant to be Hokage. Hell, she was never trained to be Hokage. She’s a medic, a fighter, a leader by force of will, not by political maneuvering. But now, she’s thrust into this position without warning, without preparation. She’s forced to navigate through a maze of alliances and rivalries, figure out the intricacies of the village’s economy—an economy that’s buckling under the weight of too many wars, too many lost resources—and the cold, calculating clan politics that lurk in the background, waiting to seize any opportunity to further their own agendas.

On top of all this, she has to ensure the day-to-day operations of the village run smoothly. Shinobi still need missions. The people still need security. The economy still needs to turn, even as it teeters on the brink of collapse. All this responsibility weighs on her shoulders, with resources running dangerously low, and no clear path forward.

She’s brilliant, yes. But this? This is a goddamn nightmare. Balancing all these responsibilities with nothing but her sharp instincts and raw determination? It’s like trying to juggle a thousand knives with only one hand. And the worst part? She can’t let it show.

In light of all this—

For most of her shinobi, Tsunade is a no-nonsense, iron-fisted leader. Loyalty isn’t just expected; it’s demanded. Unquestioning. Absolute. These are her subordinates, not her friends, and they will respect that distinction. She doesn’t have the time, the patience, or the luxury to coddle them. Her expectations are high, and she won’t tolerate the slightest hint of insubordination. They’re tools, necessary for the survival of the village—and they better damn well know their place. The fact that the name of each nin that never returns home from mission is carved on her heart is a secret she shares with no other. The longer the list becomes, the less she sleeps.

Then, there are the nin who eventually become part of her inner circle—

The ones who get to see beyond the Hokage title, those fools she’s somewhat at ease with. The idiots who can get away with being obnoxious and absurd around her. They take the brunt of her endless snark and biting insults—don’t mistake it, though, there’s no permanent damage. Just enough to keep them in line and remind them who they’re dealing with. It’s the price they pay for being in her somewhat trusted circle. But then they of course know when to abuse their freedom and when to bow before their leader's will with no questions asked. Tsunade trusts them to know this.

Among this circle, the most prominent is Kakashi—her right hand. She considers him one of her closest friends, despite his tendency to be an irritating enigma. Then there’s Shizune, often seen as Tsunade’s assistant, but her actual role goes far beyond that—she’s an advisor, head of the Hospital, and reformist, shaping the place into something Tsunade would approve of.

Shikaku enters the fold next, stepping up as her left hand, a level-headed voice in the storm.

Then, her guards—Genma, Raido, and Iwashi. They’re stuck with her now, so she may as well make it worth her while to torment them. Genma, in particular, becomes her favorite target. He gets away with being far more obnoxious than the others, but also endures the brunt of her snark and absurd demands.

Anko, the ever-persistent menace, forces her way onto the list. Tsunade doesn’t have the energy to kick her off, so she stays—reluctantly. It’s not like Tsunade can’t handle her, but sometimes, the headache isn’t worth it.

Gai. His eyebrows will forever make Tsunade cringe. And if he cries one more damn time about how much he respects her “power of youth,” she’s going to be the one to make him lose all his hair. She has her limits, and that? That is crossing them.

Izumo and Kotetsu—her favorite jesters. Reliable idiots, the pair of them. She has a soft spot for them. Why? She doesn’t know. She just does, dammit.

Ibiki—Tsunade works closely with the stoic man for weeks and learns to appreciate his dark humor. The man’s got a decent alcohol tolerance, and Tsunade takes a twisted satisfaction in watching him terrorize his subordinates. A kindred spirit if there ever was one.

Shikamaru—Goodness, the Nara kid had no right to be as damn tactical as he was. Besides, he was the only one who could balance out Naruto’s absolute stupidity. Some days, she wonders if the kid's maturity came straight from his smarts or his sheer exhaustion from putting up with everyone else’s nonsense.

_

@konohagakurekakashi & @minaa-munch I finally got around to this after forever. Cold medicine gives me twitchy fingers. xD

[hornishon]

Tagoto Senju!

My OC.

While watching the Naruto anime, my favorite characters were Tobirama and Orochimaru. Their motivations and history were not revealed enough, it was not enough for me. Thus, the story of "Green Sun" was born.

It is no secret that the story of the Sannin is based on the stories of the Edo period, called "The Tale of the Brave Jiraiya". However, the story also featured Orochimaru's wife, named Tagoto-hime (the prefix hime is princess). You can see her together with Jiraiya on the canvas of Utagawa Kunisada [~1850] with a smoking pipe in her hand (2), as well as in a festive/wedding dress with a headband (kanzashi) of blue flowers (3).

Tagoto in my story lives in Konoha during the early days of Hiruzen's reign, being Tobirama's daughter (Tsunade is her cousin, and both of them can be called "hime"). Well, the rest of her biography is revealed in my manga, which will appear here very soon.

I warn you in advance that English is not my native language, so there may be some incidents... and thank you for your attention 🫨💚

[katsuyuswritings]

— ᕦ kei ᕤ —

a lonely writer who has a few friends. asking for mutuals, also an employed attorney and has no social life 💗

— MALE — genshin, naruto, saiki k, chainsaw man, stardust destiny (oc)

male; aether, dainslief, kaeya, diluc, albedo, venti, bennett, razor, mika, zhongli, chongyun, xingqiu, xiao, baizhu, tartaglia, itto, gorou, kazuha, heizou, ayato, thoma, alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari, cyno, capitano, dottore, pantalone, scaramouche/wanderer, lyney, neuvillette, freminet, wriosthley

naruto uzumaki/namikaze, sasuke uchiha, kakashi hatake, iruka umino, kotetsu, izumo, asuma sarutobi, sai yamanaka, shikamaru nara, choji akamichi, aburame shino, kiba inuzuka, kankuro, gaara, itachi uchiha, kisame, sasori, deidara, kakuzu, hidan, orochimaru, kabuto, jiraiya, minato namikaze, neji hyuga, zetsu, zabuza, haku yuki, suigetsu, juuga, maito gai, boruto uzumaki, mitsuki

saiki kusuo, kaidou shun, aren kuboyasu, toritsuka reita, nendou riki, hairo kineshi, makoto teruhashi

denji, aki, angel devil, shark devil (that's literally all)

aifuyo hime/yuzuki, renyue yuzuki, kōhaku hayashi, eijiro yuzuki, aoi hime, anh hyu, eugene hyu, feng xiang

— FEMALE — genshin, naruto, saiki k, chainsaw man, stardust destiny (oc)

female: amber, fischl, noelle, mona, jean, lisa, eula, klee, barbara, xiangling, xinyan, yunjin, ganyu, keqing, shenhe, ningguang, beidou, qiqi, yaoyao, kuki, kujou sara, yae miko, raiden ei/shogun, raiden makoto, kokomi, ayaka, sayu, yoimiya, faruzan, layla, nilou, dori, dehya, candace, dunyarzad, focalors, navia, lynette, yuelin, tsaritsa, la signora, sandrone, arlecchino, columbina, raiden makoto

sakura haruno/uchiha, hinata hyuga/uzumaki, karin uzumaki, konan, kurenai sarutobi, hanabi hyuga, ino yamanaka, tsunade senju, temari nara, tenten, anko mitarashi, kushina uzumaki/namikaze, guren (mommy), himawari uzumaki, sarada uchiha

kokomi teruhashi, chiyo yumehara/teruhashi, kuriko/kusuko saiki, aiura mikoto, rifuta imu, mera chisato

power, makima, yuro, himeno

katsuyu yuzuki/hime, chiyo hime, shinkkami ayakemi-sanjin (teiko), kohari hayashi, mina noshiro, maikka yue, yan xiang

— ᕤ can request ᕦ —

smut, suggestive, angst and fluff

aged up characters smut/suggestive

child!reader x parent!character or vise versa

song related storyline

ships and oc x reader

— ᕦ can't request ᕤ —

minor character smut

oc x canon (I have my reasons)

weird shit like armpit kink and others (I don't wanna name them 😨)

Also I know most of y'all are minors... You can't hide from me

[issybee06]

Because…

Part V

Warnings: slow ass burn, cursing, drinking, smoking, discrimination against Uzumakis, discrimination against bastards, Danzo hate forever <3, politics, the council, angst, so slow

Tacenda

(n.) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence.

……………….…………………………………………………………

Senju Risa was a bastard, with no real claim to the Senju name or any wealth or titles that came with it. Her mother, Uzumaki Kamiko ‘seduced’ the Nidaime hokage, her sensei, and got pregnant by him just before his death. After two days of labor, Kamiko died due to complications during the birth, leaving behind an orphan.

That was the claim of Shimura Danzo, and his reason onto why he did not send aid to Uzushiogakure when the sister village was under attack.

Three years ago; the council meeting regarding the inheritance of the Senju clan name and fortune.

Age: 17

I inhale sharply, unconsciously picking at the skin around my nails until it was raw as I sat amongst the clan heads. This was it, the day I would either be made head of the Senju clan or be cast to the side like my mother was. A bastard.

I was a bastard, I knew that from a very early age, and no one ever tried to correct me. “Your parents are not, and never were, married. You are illegitimate to the Takamori clan, your only chance is that the Leaf sees you as a Senju.”

It seemed like the past repeated itself, because years ago my mother was here in this seat at the same age, praying her caretaker and father figure would grant her permission to be the head of the Senju clan.

She was denied.

Inoichi clasped a hand over mine, halting my assault on my nail bed, “ You have no need to worry, (Y/n)-hime…they won’t make the same mistake twice.”

I inhale sharply again, and gulp down my fears. Sneaking a peak, I look up into the rafters of the council room and my heart rate relaxes at the sight of the painted dog mask. If he was here, I think I could handle this.

Hizuzen blew a large cloud of smoke, speaking lowly to the other elders. They were picking my life apart, unraveling the secrets and digging through my past, starting all the way at the beginning.

It was totally unnecessary, and only for show since the Daimyo was here as well. The elder knew everything about me already, but this went deeper than bastards claiming titles, this was about the succession of the Senju clan; the first Hokages clan and the creators of Mokuton:wood style.

I had his blood, and if bred right, my children could have it.

My mother didn’t have it, despite practicing and meditating and praying, she never was able to preform Mokuton. Tsunade never even tried, and now it was too late to find out if any potential children of her would have it. She had swore never to have children, so the fait of my clan was on me.

I…couldn’t do it. I had read the scrolls, done the handsigns, practiced practiced practiced…but no results. I had the roots of the jutsu, water and earth, but not the jutsu.

It was frustrating, knowing I was so close to it but ultimately failing. I had all the right tools, all the ingredients, but nothing came from it. I was my clans last hope, and I was already destined to fail.

“(Y/n)-hime.”

My head snapped up, and I stood, “H-Hai, Hokage-sama?”

His wrinkled eyes creased, and he clasped his hands together in front of his face, “step forward.”

I nod, head to the elders table. I passed through the sitting clan heads, all people who grew up with my mother and/or knew her when she too was here, walking the same path as me.

I bowed to them when I approached and then to the Daimyo, remembering all the lessons the Senseis at finishing school in the capital taught me. If I couldn’t sway the council, I’ll sway the Daimyo.

“The council meeting will begin; the discussion of the succession of the Senju clan and the legitimacy of Senju (Y/n) and Senju Risa will begin.” The Hokage announced, and began going through my documents.

I froze. And Risa…?

I swallow as I began to pick at my thumbnail, I was not only representing my birthright…but my mothers aswell.

“(Y/n)-hime, though you are a direct descendent of Senju Tobirama, your mother was the product of a birth out of wedlock making her a bastard. You are also the product of wedlock, on top of that your father is of an enemy nation, and you were not born in this nation. Do you understand this?”

I nod, “Hai, i do Hokage-sama.”

He hums, “…you were brought here as a child, and became a shinobi to our village, showing your loyalty. You fought on our side in the war, receiving a large flesh wound, and have continued to serve the village well since. You have proven to the council to be of Konoha, despite your…background.”

He sighs, inhaling the tobacco from his pipe before exhaling the smoke, “…Tsunade-hime will never have children, and the bloodline of the Senju did not continue to boys, making you and your mother the last two Senju who can carry your bloodline…Your mother is getting older, making you the last.”

I nod, “I understand, Hokage-sama…”

He nods, “…you understand we can't simply ‘waste’ you're genes, correct? That is why the Daimyo has offered to marry his nephew to you. This will strengthen Konohas ties to the land of fire, and the reputation that befalls you now.”

I tighten my jaw, going over my notes again. None of this was making any sense, nothing was coming together or working. I drumb my fingers angrily on the table, scoffing.

“This is so frustrating.”

Genma looks over my shoulder, and winches, “hey, you chose this profession.”

I huff, leaning on my elbows with my face in my hands.

“I just don’t understanddddd~” I groan out, dragging my hands down my face, “it made sense two days ago!”

He hums, checking his hair out in the reflection of the microwave, “ you were also hungover and running on two hours of sleep two days ago.”

I scoff, looking over at him, “you act as if I’m an alcoholic.”

He raises a brow at me, “you are, and so am I.”

He turn to me, leaning forward slightly with his hands on his heart as he starts to speak slowly, “I. accept. you.”

I throw a pen at him, miss, and he smirks, “you really are off your game.”

“I hope you die.” he chuckles, and fixes his shirt one last time, “how do I look?”

I wrinkle my nose as I take in his appearance, “…you look fine. Got a date?”

“Yeah, you remember that girl from the bar two weeks ago right? Well, we're going to dinner.”

I hum, going back to reading my notes, “oh? Good for you.”

He nods, “yep. One of us has to have game in this house, of course it's me.”

“…im engaged.”

He rolls his eyes, “that doesn't count.”

I scoff, looking over at him again, “well apparently it does.”

“It doesn’t count! You only met him once!”

I roll my eyes, and stand up to stretch. I pick up my scattered notes and shove them into my notebook book, then go to pick up the lunch plate, “it counts, I’m engaged, so technically my game is better because you only have hookups.”

“I have a date tonight!” He yells, and gestures to his fixed up self. I look him over, and place my plate in the washing machine.

“Okay…and?”

He glares, and huffs angrily before walking to the door, “I’m leaving.”

“Use protection, babes.”

………………………………………………………………………….

I open my eyes, unclamping my hand in my kneeled position. I gaze sadly at the stone, and brush some frost off the name. The frost bit at my bare hands, but I couldn’t care less as I cleaned the grave.

I should have brought warm water to clean it properly.

“…happy birthday…” I whispered to the name, tracing the carved kanji in the stone. I pour a little Saké in a dish, placing it on the stone before pouring another. I raise my dish, then take a sip.

I felt a familiar chakra sit next to me, and I look over. Kakashi had his head bowed, paying respects to his deceased Sensei. When I was sure he was done, I offer my half drunk dish. He gives me a nod, and pulls his mask down to finish off the Saké. I pear over, noticing that his busted lip was healing.

“…how are you feeling?” I ask softly, almost a whisper. It felt like how it was when we were genin, whispering things on Kushina and Minatos couch after dinner as to not disturb the giggling couple. Back then things were simpler.

Dinner with Kushina was a everyday occurrence when I was in the academy, living with her half time, and when she began dating Minato the duo nights began to be trio. Later, when both adults became senseis, they'd invite their genin for group dinners.

That year after Rins death, and year before the Nine tails, was just Kakashi and I at group dinner.

“…better then I was two weeks ago…had to redo the stitches though.”

I wince, turn towards him fully as he pulls his mask on, “I told you, I didn’t know how-”

“You did fine, I reopened the wound a few days after.” He explained, handing me the dish back.

I frown, nodding in understanding before wiping the last little droplets of the alcohol on my sleave, “…I still think you should have gone to a hospital.”

“…I can’t stand the smell…” he spoke softly, and I nodded in understanding. Smells were more potent for him, even more so as he’s gotten older.

“…you don’t smell like smoke tonight.”

I scoff silently, “…Minato would roll in his grave if he caught me with cigarettes…I’m afraid he’d smite me if I even smell of it.”

He chuckled at that, a sad noise, and yet my heart squeezed slightly. I was glad I could at least amuse him, even on this solemn day.

“…I remember he was so angry the first time he caught you smoking with Asuma, I had never seen him so mad.”

I huff, smiling, “…wouldn’t stop scolding me…I can still picture his angry face.”

I could see the outline of his smile, and stood up. He offered he hand, and I took it. We both bowed to the grave, saying our farewells.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, walking next to me as we made our way out of the cemetery. I shivered slightly, wrapping my arms around myself as we walked. It was getting late, and the sun was just setting behind the tree tops.

I bite my lip, not wanting him to disappear yet. Kakashi was like a fleeting moment, his presence was scarce and you never know when you’d see him again.

“…Kakashi…?”

He hums, looking over with his dark eye. I look to the side, and stop walking.

“…Genma is on a date tonight…and I was wondering if you’d want to grab some dinner…for Minatos memory.”

His jaw tightened lightly, and I felt my heart sink before he nodded.

“…why not?”

I smile in relief, “great!-I mean, great…how about Ichiraku?”

“I was thinking the BBQ place.”

Oh?

The BBQ place…wasn’t anywhere Minato took us…I don’t think it was even built yet.

“Sure, we can do that…”

He nods, walking ahead. I jog a bit, catching up with him. I glare at him slightly, cursing how tall he had gotten. As children, he had been small and shrimpy. It was almost comical, this tiny silver haired kid scolding you as if his ego matched his height, but now it probably did.

He wasn’t as tall as Asuma, standing at a good 5’11, and wasn’t as built as Gai, but I could see why so many girls wanted him. He had always held an aura, an air of cool that both pissed me off as a kid and intrigued me.

Rounding the corner, the restaurant was in sight and I slowed my pace to a comfortable walk. When we step into the restaurant, we both silently agree to get a booth closer to the back away from the other people. More so for the quiet, and for Kakashi. His reputation, both good and bad, was starting to steadily climb and I had seen him get corned before by noisy civilians and shinobi alike.

I slide in ungratefully, and Kakashi calmly sits down. He turns the hot top on, and we wait for a serve to come round. I hover my hand over the heating top, trying to warm myself.

Kakashi leans into his seat, sighing as he rolls his shoulders back. I could hear a slight crack, but didn’t acknowledge it. When the server, a young man around our age, came round I laced my fingers and looked up at him politely.

He smiled, “what would you two like this evening?”

I side-eyed Kakashi, who looked over at me with his usual bored expression, and smiled to the server, “beef, tomato’s and eggplant if you have any.”

He nods, and writes it down before walking away.

Kakashi gives me a strange look, “eggplant?”

“I know you like it, I thought you’d appreciate the gesture.” I mumbled, picking at my fingers. His eye softens, almost unnoticeably, but I could see it. After years of only being able to read factual expressions by half his face, then a fourth, id learned to see every movement.

He nods, and looks down finding the table interesting all of a sudden. I wince, this was going great…

I couldn’t remember the last time Kakashi and I had gotten dinner just us two, after not speaking for a year after the nine tails then another two years after the arranged engagement was announced, we just never got around to talking…this year was truly interesting.

The food was placed on the table, and I pick up a piece of beef to cook with my chopsticks. I watch it cook, turning it when one side got too dark.

“…how’s the assignment going?” He asks so quietly I almost miss it.

I look up, noticing he was cooking eggplant.

“…we’ve figured out the ingredients…now we just need to make an anti poison…Ibiki is trying to figure out who created the poison.”

He nods, slipping his mask down just enough to pop the piece in his mouth, “…my team is traveling to the last known place in Kumo…we’re leaving this weekend.”

Oh.

“Oh…good luck.”

He nods, and we both go silent again. This was…awkward. It was so hard to talk to Kakashi, he was so closed off and short with anyone and everyone. Even as kids he was distant, but at least he talked. He was a snippy child, always talking down to people and making himself look better. Over time, he just got quiet.

I continued to eat silently, every now and then looking up to see if he was still there or had disappeared. He was so quiet when he ate, when her breathed, when he moved, almost like I was imagining him in front of me. I was half convinced the server would come over and ask me why I was talking to myself.

Kakashi placed his chopsticks down, signaling that he was finished. He sat silently, waiting for me to finish my food with no rush. He closed his eye, resting in the booth with no worry or care.

He probably hasn’t been sleeping again, I thought frowning softly, and placed my chopsticks down as well. I laced my fingers, resting my mouth on my hands.

“Thank you…” I say softly, and he hums without opening his eye.

“…do you visit them often?”

I frown, looking up at him with confusion in my eyes. His eye was open now, sad and haunted, “…the graves.”

I lick my lips, feeling they were suddenly chapped, “…not as much as I’d like too…”

He nods, “…yeah…me too.”

I take the Saké out of my bag, taking a sip from the bottle. I raise it to him, and he takes it with a nod. He pulls his mask down a little, takes a sip and coughs, “w-what is this?”

I smile, “…it’s the good stuff from the capital.”

He makes a face, coughing again and handing it back to me, “gift?”

I nod, siping, “I’ve been saving it for Minato-senseis birthday.”

He nods, and shakes his head when I offer again, “ he’d like it.”

I hum and slip the bottle back into my bag when the server came with the check. I reach for it, completely prepared to pay after dragging him to dinner, but he beats me to it. I furrow my brows at him, and he pays me no mind as he leaves the money on the table.

“Coming?”

I stand, still confused why he paid. I was the one who invited him, I should be the one to pay than right?

We walk out, and I wrap my arms around myself.

“Whyd you pay?”

He hummed, looking over at me, “was I not supposed to?”

“Yes! I asked you to dinner! I should have paid!” I stress, huffing at him. He scoffs, his hands slipping into his pockets, “just accept it as a show of good faith. I picked the place, I should pay anyway.”

I frown, my cheeks reddening from both frustration and embarrassment. He looks over and his jaw tightens slightly, and I could hear him swallow.

I go to protest at him again, but he just raises his hand.

“…we can just say you owe me next time.”

Then he's turning away, walking down the dark street leaving me with a flushed expression and my heart stuttering to make sense of his words.

Next time…

………………………………………………………………………….

Kakashi and I were sitting on the couch in Minato and Kushinas apartment after a small group dinner. I was admiring how Minato would hug Kushina from behind, making her giggle as he whispered sweet things in her ear.

I sigh dreamily, my head resting on my chin. Kakashi scoffed, his arms crossed over his new anbu uniform as he sinks deeper into the couch.

“Why are you sighing like that?” he snapped, raising a brow at me. I look over at him, a soft smile on my lips, “its romantic…”

He rolls his visable eyes, looking away from me, “its sickening to watch.”

I glare, turning to face him, “sickening? They're in love!”

He looks back at me with a deeped expression, “really? I couldn't tell.”

I huff, raising my chin high, “I pity the person you marry, you clearly are not a romantic. If you were, you’d understand.”

He glares, and turns away, but I wasn't done, “when I get married, I want my spouse and I to be just as in love as Minato-sensei and Kushina-nee. I want to dance in the kitchen at 3 in the morning and giggle about inside jokes and talk with our eyes and have soft moments that are only meant for us. I don’t just want a spouse, I want a best friend. I think it’s more romantic if you fall for your best friend, then you know they want you cause they’ve seen all your flaws.”

I sigh dreamily again, as any 15-year-old girl would as she sillily dreams of a future of love, and go back to admiring the happy couple as they stay close to one another.

Unknown to me, Kakashi was also admiring something silently with the same love sick expression I wore…but back then I didn’t know it was me. 

[espadasan]

五代目火影 〜 5th Hokage Tsunade-hime

[liss-art]

There are arts as old as hell. This one is from 2007 (maaaaa). I still love it so very much >< Happy Valentine, Tsunade-hime

[waffliesinyoface]

"So~. I have just heard an incredible rumor, Tsunade-hime."

Tsunade looks up from her desk at the source of her interruption. Orochimaru is, once again, sitting in her office. Despite the fact that he is not actually allowed to be in her office, or even Konoha period.

He had been sitting in her office for the past 26 minutes, gloriously smug, clearly waiting for her to react. But Tsunade was one of the very few people alive who had known Orochimaru when he was a bratty twelve-year-old, and knew, better than anyone else, that the only way to win against Orochimaru was to ignore him.

She'd also neglected to throw him out because it served as an effective deterrent against people trying to bother her with paperwork on her lunchbreak.

"Oh?"

"Yes~! You see, I happened to stop by Hatake's office on the way here, and Naruto, it seems, has somehow reacquired a new arm~."

She knew exactly where this was going and she would not give him the satisfaction of facepalming. It was beneath her.

"And, well, as someone who, in the past, had been rather unceremoniously denied your own services in that regard, I couldn't help but wonder how, exactly, he'd come by such a miraculous replacement. Not a hint of chakra strings controlling it! Absolutely marvelous work, really."

She would not give him the satisfaction.

"So, I took a look in your records - oh, the security seals might need replacing, by the way - and what do I find but Miss Sakura Haruno's studies on adapting hashirama-cells to create prosthetic limbs!"

She changed her mind, this was worse than chuunin attempting to foist Hatake's paperwork onto her when they couldn't find him, despite her being retired.

"Really, how the times have changed~. When she does it, it's a medical miracle, but when I do it, it's 'a violation of human rights' and 'a crime against nature' and 'morally reprehensible'."

Incomparably worse.

"Tsk tsk, Tsunade, letting something so heinous happen under your watch. In Konoha General Hospital, no less! Not even a hint of a back-alley lab or anything! Using your own grandfather's useful corpse like that, what would sensei say~?"

"You...!" She growled, ripped a chunk off the corner of her desk, and threw it at him, causing it to pass harmlessly through where his head had been and knock a whole in the wall behind him.

"Would it kill you to go bother Sensei with this shit for once?!"

"And now you're just giving me permission to use forbidden jutsu? Tsunade, dear, you'll get a reputation for nepotism at this point! But I'll keep it in mind~."

She decided that she needed a new desk anyways, and threw a second, larger chunk at him, which proceeded to knock the door off it's hinges.

"Oh, dear, look at the time! I really must be going. We really need to do this more often, Tsunade-hime~."

As he slithered off into the hallway, past the terrified group of med-nin and one chuunin with a binder who had been waiting for her, he called over his shoulder - "Sorry about the desk, by the way. It looked expensive! Did Tenzou make that for you~?"

[scarecrow-in-a-hatake]

Oh my, what a dutiful young man! I don’t know much about the shinobi world, but I sure am glad our village is in your capable hands!

Tsunade-hime was a wonderful young leader too, but you strike me as exactly who we need now that we have this hard earned peace!

Thank you for the help, young Hokage! A lovely afternoon to you!

Maa, you're too kind, Oba-san. I'll be sure to do my best.

[orochimaruanon]

Have you ever gotten drunk with Tsunade hime? Do you enjoy nightlife? Are there night clubs in Otogakure

No there are no bars or clubs in Otogakure or Tsunade hime and her gin soaked ass would never leave. She is fond of wasting her short pitiful life in the pursuit of  massive alcohol binges, commiserating over her pathetic past, and even more alcohol poisoning. I hardly consider her a sannin at this point maji de..

Lord Oro can hold his liquor. There were times I would drive her bloated and drooling ass home after a particularly sopping wet night of weeping as women are fond of doing every Tuesday Wednesday and Thursday evenings, and she threw me out of the house in a rage.. Cursing at me under her slippery, hot breath to stop trying to "cop a feel". Lord Oro knows when to take no for an answer. 

[phlebaswrites]

Healing Hands

Summary:

Sakura is a healer.

(A healer with a dream.)

Rating: Mature Fandom: Naruto Relationship: Haruno Sakura/Yamanaka Ino Word Count: approximately 7K (Complete and posts one chapter daily)

Sakura looks at her reflection, at the purple diamond that decorates her forehead.

There's a reason she wears her hitai-ate differently to most shinobi, and it isn't only because she needs to keep hair away from her face.

No, it's because of this.

Because she needs to see it.

Such a deceptive mark, so simple for something so complex, that seal was inscribed onto her skin by Rin-sensei when she first became a healer, as is the tradition of all Mito-hime's students. Passed down in an unbroken chain of healers and fighters - often both - it's the legacy of a woman whose knowledge they all carry, a seal that marks them all as members of the same family.

Even if they never choose to fill it.

Even if they lead lives that won't let them fill it.

Sakura has filled it.

She's poured her own chakra into it, drop by precious drop, and watched it darken with each day that passes until it's now the same shade as Tsunade-shishō's.

Which means that she's ready.

Read the rest on AO3.

[senjutsunade]

~A Memory's Embrace~

The night sky above Konoha blooms with color, firework after firework painting the darkness in vibrant reds, golds, and blues. Tsunade stands at the window of her office, arms crossed as she watches the display. The explosions are muffled, distant, as though the glass between her and the world beyond has swallowed the sound. Yet the light catches her golden hair, framing her like a relic of a more hopeful time.

Her breath fogs the window, each exhale leaving a ghostly imprint that quickly fades. She feels oddly mesmerized, her gaze trailing the path of a single firework as it streaks upward, bursting into a cascade of shimmering sparks. For a moment, she forgets the mountains of paperwork on her desk, the weight of the Hokage's hat on her shoulders.

Then, in the reflection of the glass, she catches it—a flicker of movement behind her. Her muscles tense, her senses sharpening. A shadow shifts, faint but deliberate, and her heartbeat quickens. The room feels suddenly smaller, the air charged. She doesn't turn.

And then, the familiar scent wraps around her—clean, warm, like fresh linen and the faintest hint of mint. Arms encircle her waist, firm and steady, drawing her back into a solid chest.

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans back, surrendering to the warmth. Her lips part, her voice soft, reverent.

“You’re late…Dan.”

For a moment, everything feels perfect. The fireworks outside burst into a symphony of color, painting her world in hues she hasn’t felt in years. The tension in her shoulders melts as she feels his chin rest gently atop her head.

“Am I?” he murmurs, his voice as familiar as her own heartbeat. “Or am I exactly on time?”

A soft chuckle escapes her, low and bittersweet. “Don’t get too smug. You missed the beginning of the show.”

“I thought I’d make an entrance,” he teases, his tone light but tender. “Wouldn’t want to bore you, Hime.”

“Bore me?” She tilts her head, arching a brow even as her lips curve. “I’d say you’re more than enough entertainment just by showing up.”

His laugh rumbles through her, a sound she hasn’t heard in so long it feels almost alien, and yet it fits so perfectly in this moment. “This year will be perfect,” he whispers against her hair. “I promise.”

Her eyes close, a small, wistful smile playing at her lips. For a moment, she lets herself believe him. The world fades away—the fireworks, the paperwork, the endless ache in her chest. It’s just him, holding her, anchoring her in a way nothing else can.

But when she opens her eyes, he isn’t there.

The arms around her vanish, the warmth dissipates, and all that greets her in the reflection is her own face, framed by the glow of fireworks that feel painfully distant now. The window glass is cold under her fingertips as her hand instinctively reaches for where he had been, only to find emptiness.

He had never been there. Just a figment of imagination. A bittersweet memory. Her lost happiness.

Her breath catches, and she presses her hand to her lips to stifle the sob that escapes. Years. Long, aching years, and still her heart cries out for him as if the wound were fresh.

“Dan…” she whispers, the name breaking on her tongue. The tears come before she can stop them, sliding silently down her cheeks. She wipes them away with trembling fingers, refusing to let the grief consume her. Not now. Not tonight.

From the corner of her eye, she catches the faint movement of her guards, their postures stiff, their concern almost palpable. But she doesn’t acknowledge them. Some pains, she knows, no one can shield her from.

She draws a deep breath, steadying herself, and turns from the window. Her chair waits, the pile of documents stacked high. There is no place for personal grief here, not when a village depends on her strength.

With one last glance at the fireworks, she walks back to her desk and sits. There is no time for celebration. Not for her.