In the towering depths of the Giant Wet Bone Forest, a place known only to those chosen by Katsuyu, Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage and last heir of the Senju line, crouched low beside a mossy stump. Despite her battlefield-hardened demeanor, she now found herself… picking mushrooms.
"This really is the Wet Bone Forest," Ryosuke murmured behind her, observing her from a distance. The sacred domain of the Slug Sage, hidden deep in the Land of Slugs, was rarely visited by even its summoner, yet here was Tsunade, gathering edible fungi like a civilian. For even Tsunade accustomed to bloodshed, politics, and the legacy of the Senju—it was an oddly serene moment.
Ryosuke chuckled softly. "Princess Tsunade, still dazzling even with dirt on your hands."
"Oh ho…" Tsunade shot him a sideways glance, but her cheeks, usually as unreadable as polished stone, flushed faintly.
Although the Slug Sage Katsuyu wasn't physically present, her voice echoed in Tsunade's mind through their chakra link. "He's not lying."
Tsunade's hand paused mid-pick. She was absentminded, her thoughts drifting—his words still lingering. Ryosuke's demeanor, his quiet sincerity—it clashed starkly with her own suspicion and the distrust that had quietly taken root within her.
The Slug Sage, who possessed unparalleled sensitivity to truth and deceit through chakra fluctuations—like an organic lie detector—offered a calm reassurance.
Her blush deepened, now a vibrant crimson. Tsunade, an elite medic-nin, wielder of the Strength of a Hundred Seal, and the granddaughter of Senju Hashirama, rarely lost composure. But the guilt she carried from doubting Ryosuke weighed her down.
Ryosuke, ever composed, gently touched her shoulders and helped her up, not lingering on the proximity or the accidental exposure of her vulnerability.
Tsunade—known in the world as the granddaughter of the First Hokage—was rightly called "Princess of the Senju." And Ryosuke had spoken the title with sincerity, not flattery.
"There's nothing wrong with that title," she whispered.
Ryosuke raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Then let's start over. Nice to meet you again, Tsunade."
His voice carried a calm warmth that struck a chord within her. The deer in Tsunade's heart—long buried under layers of cynicism—stumbled in panic.
Her legendary toughness faltered. "It's true…"
Despite her usual composure, Tsunade fumbled with her words. Mizuki Ryosuke, who had saved her life and faced enemies with unwavering resolve, reminded her of the kind of hero from Jiraiya's stories.
Looking into her basket, Ryosuke noted the mushrooms—vibrant and oddly colored. "By the way… these are poisonous."
"Eh?!"
Tsunade's eyes widened, embarrassed. Her supposed culinary harvest was practically a dye kit for a textile merchant. Ryosuke's teasing, however, wasn't scornful—it was soft, kind.
"Even if I stripped away your titles, I still wouldn't let you die in front of me."
A light snicker echoed in her mind again. "Xiao Gang, your little boyfriend didn't lie," Katsuyu teased playfully.
Tsunade didn't flinch this time. She grasped Ryosuke's hand, her previous restraint abandoned. The smile she offered now was rare—genuine and vulnerable.
Indeed, Ryosuke's presence struck every image of an ideal shinobi prince: strength, dignity, mystery, and warmth.
"Please, just call me Tsunade," she whispered.
That name—Tsunade—wasn't casually used by outsiders. Ryosuke knew this well. It was a name known throughout the Five Great Nations, tied not just to prestige, but to a tragic and storied past. His deliberate shift from "Princess Tsunade" to "Tsunade" wasn't disrespectful—it was a bridge of trust.
Tsunade repeated his name under her breath, her expression unreadable, but her flushed neck and ears betrayed her inner turmoil.
"You're picking mushrooms… and not very well," Ryosuke quipped gently.
Tsunade waved her hand, flustered. Ryosuke's amused gaze only deepened. "She's… cute," he thought.
"Xiao Gang, I like your little boyfriend," Katsuyu teased one last time before vanishing from her mind link.
In traditional shinobi culture—especially among the upper echelons of clans—royal titles weren't as rigid as in the Land of Iron or in Daimyō courts. Still, calling someone like Tsunade by her first name was a mark of deep familiarity.
"Why are you apologizing?" Ryosuke asked softly.
Tsunade shook her head, exhaling. "For doubting you. For testing your sincerity through Katsuyu."
Ryosuke wasn't angry. "I understand," he replied calmly. "Given your past… it's natural to be cautious."
Even though Tsunade appeared stern, Ryosuke knew she was far from the jaded cynic many assumed her to be. In truth, she was emotionally guarded and quietly empty—especially after losing Nawaki and Dan.
Katsuyu could read chakra fluctuations like second nature. For her, truth was instinctual. And now that truth showed in Tsunade's body language—a blend of girlish excitement and conflicting thoughts.
Tsunade bowed respectfully, her movement unintentionally highlighting her curves—something Ryosuke noticed but didn't linger on. He simply nodded, respectful but firm.
"No need to apologize," he said.
Tsunade's eyes flickered with gratitude. "Thank you, Ryosuke."
She turned to leave, but Katsuyu's last remark echoed playfully: "Then I won't disturb you and your boyfriend, Xiao Gang!"
"Not a boyfriend!!" Tsunade called back instinctively, but the redness creeping up her neck betrayed her.
"Cool, Ryosuke…" she muttered.
"In exchange, call me Ryosuke," he said, extending his hand again.
The air shifted. There was no longer tension, only the beginnings of something new.
Romantic tension. Earnest respect. Quiet strength.
These were the elements swirling between them.
Tsunade hesitated—but only for a second. She clasped his hand, firm and warm. "Nice to meet you, Ryosuke."
As she walked back toward the Tree Castle—her basket now refilled, though with mushrooms still questionably edible—Tsunade felt lighter.
Katsuyu, ever mischievous, remained silent this time despite Tsunade's inward calls. Her silence spoke volumes: no more interference. This was between them now.
"I… I think I like him," Tsunade admitted to herself.
Ryosuke, watching her retreating figure, simply smiled.
"I am the Fourth Mizukage of Kirigakure, Mizuki Ryosuke," he said quietly, reaffirming his identity—not for her, but for himself.
A new chapter between two powerful shinobi had just begun—not through battle, but through quiet sincerity.
And in this fleeting moment, there truly was… no need to apologize.