"Danzo is in for it now."
The thought rippled through the gathered Konoha shinobi as they watched the 'King of Pots' slowly wither. No one moved to intervene. In fact, the representatives of the great clans—Nara Shikaku and Akamichi Choza—didn't even bother to hide the gloating in their eyes. Regardless of the fact that they had just fought a war at Danzo's side, there wasn't a ninja in the village, civilian or noble, who hadn't felt the stifling weight of the 'Darkness of Konoha.'
"Lord Ikki... have I... have I said something wrong?"
After only a few seconds of silence, Danzo was already deathly pale, beads of cold sweat rolling down his forehead.
"Are you trying to tell me how to handle my business?"
The words were spoken softly, but they carried the weight of a falling mountain. Danzo's spirit, usually forged from iron and shadow, was on the verge of collapsing.
"I... I would never dare!" Danzo stammered. He didn't even feel anger anymore, only a primal, lizard-brain terror.
"It's a good thing you don't. I have no patience for your petty schemes or whatever nonsense you've got going on with Hiruzen," Ikki said, his tone neither light nor heavy, but each word hammered into Danzo's chest. "Understand this: don't think that just because I've cleared out the Rock and the Cloud, you can get comfortable and treat me like some Konoha pawn. I didn't come out of retirement for the village. I came out because I wasn't going to let the last bit of the Senju bloodline be thrown away by people like you—just like you did with Nawaki."
"I understand!" Danzo nodded frantically.
In that moment, he finally understood how the Cloud shinobi had felt. The pressure radiating from this relic of the Sengoku era was suffocating. The 'Shadows' of the current age were nothing but children playing in the dirt when compared to the titan standing before them.
"Uncle Ikki, seriously?" Tsunade interjected, finally stepping forward with a huff. "You're making me look like some kind of helpless brat! I'm a Sannin, for heaven's sake. Does that mean nothing?"
"Sannin? Oh, how impressive," Ikki sneered. "Back in the Land of Earth, if I'd been three minutes later, the Senju clan would have been perfectly reunited in the afterlife. Hashirama would've probably asked me to follow him into the Pure Land just to give me a piece of his mind for letting you die."
Tsunade looked away, her head bowed in sheepish silence.
"Look, Little Tsuna... you're the only one left," Ikki sighed, his voice softening slightly but retaining its blunt edge. "The Senju family is a hair's breadth from extinction. Take care of yourself. Stop worrying about every little thing that happens in this village and start focusing on your own life. You don't need to restore the clan to its former glory all by yourself, but you should at least leave something behind. And for the love of everything, pick a decent man. Don't go bringing home some fraud."
Ikki looked toward the horizon, a rare moment of melancholy crossing his face. When Hashirama and Tobirama were alive, the Senju clan was a forest of a thousand people—the strongest family in the world. Now? The brothers hadn't even been dead for that long, and only Tsunade remained.
Every time he thought about it, he wanted to punch his way into the Pure Land, drag the Senju brothers out by their collars, and ask them what the point of building Konoha was if it only served to swallow their own bloodline. Every clan seemed to be flourishing—the Sarutobis were practically a small army now—while the foundational families were being bled dry.
Shikaku Nara and the others listened in a mix of amusement and desolation. Their own clans had felt the same pressure; the village was safe, but their families were thinning out, their strength being diverted to feed the machine of Konoha. They couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at Ikki's bluntness.
"It's not that I'm not interested in... personal affairs," Tsunade muttered, her face turning a deep shade of red. The legendary 'Boldness' of the world's strongest kunoichi was nowhere to be found. "It's just... it's difficult. It's not like a fight; you can't just solve it with one punch."
"How hard can it be?" Ikki asked. "I've only been back for a few days, and even I see plenty of candidates around."
He let his gaze drift until it landed squarely on Kato Dan. Tsunade followed his look, then winced.
"Uncle, stop it. I'm not into the 'delicate' types. He looks like he spends more time on his hair than I do," Tsunade said, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "If we went out in public, nobody would be able to tell which one of us was the woman. Besides, he's as thin as a bamboo pole. Like you said, Uncle—he looks 'empty' at a glance. I'm worried that if I actually tried to hug him, I'd accidentally snap him in half."
Kato Dan's face went from pale to a ghostly, translucent white.
In Konoha, every eligible bachelor had at least thought about the beautiful and powerful Tsunade. Dan was no exception. But he had never expected to be eliminated from the race with such clinical, brutal efficiency before he'd even said 'hello.'
"Uh... look, Dan, don't take it personally," Tsunade added, seeing the look of utter devastation on his face. "I'm not targeting you. I just really like what my Uncle says!"
"It's quite alright, Lady Tsunade," Kato Dan whispered. His face, which was indeed prettier than many women's, was devoid of any remaining blood.
He had expected a challenge. He had expected to fight for her heart. He had not expected to be labeled a "fragile bamboo pole" in front of the entire border command. At that moment, a "Good Person" rejection would have felt like a promotion.