--

  "Hanekawa!"

  Kurenai called out with surprise as he stepped through the door. "Why are you back so early today?"

  "Wanted to train with you," Hanekawa said, reaching over to ruffle her hair.

  "Let's go then!" Kurenai grabbed his hand eagerly and pulled him outside, her ruby eyes bright with excitement.

  Yuhi Shinku sighed from the doorway and followed them into the yard.

  Hanekawa and Kurenai took their positions across from each other, forming opposing hand seals. They launched into their genjutsu practice—no flashy explosions or visible clashes, just two minds locked in a battle of illusions. To an untrained eye, it would look almost peaceful. In reality, it was deadly.

  Kurenai lasted maybe thirty seconds before her concentration shattered.

  "Lost again," she said, puffing out her cheeks in frustration.

  "A genjutsu specialist needs to read her opponent's psychology," Hanekawa explained, guiding her through the sequence. "Don't lead with the jutsu. Set the trap first."

  She's got real talent, he thought, watching her absorb every word. With the right foundation, she could become genuinely dangerous.

  For a moment, he considered something wild—hunting down a Sharingan somewhere down the line. But no. Those ruby eyes were too striking to replace. Besides, there was another approach.

  What if he could boost her chakra reserves? More chakra meant more powerful illusions, same principle as tailed beasts. If he could find a way to give her something like a power bank...

  "What are you looking at?"

  Kurenai glanced around suspiciously. "Is something wrong?"

  Hanekawa blinked back to the present. "Just thinking you've gotten more beautiful."

  Kurenai's eyes lit up. "Really? Where?"

  "Cough cough!"

  Yuhi Shinku made a strangled sound from the porch, his face turning an interesting shade of red.

  "Dad, if you're not feeling well, go rest," Kurenai said sweetly, not even glancing at him.

  Yuhi Shinku's expression became a question mark. Did she just... completely dismiss me?

  He glared at Hanekawa with the fury of a man watching his daughter slip away into someone else's orbit.

  Hanekawa just shrugged helplessly. I didn't even do anything.

  "Let's keep training," Kurenai said with renewed enthusiasm.

  "Sure."

  Yuhi Shinku's eye twitched as he trudged back inside. I've become completely irrelevant in my own house.

  ---

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The next morning, Hanekawa knocked on Tsunade's door at exactly 8 a.m., just as she'd instructed the day before.

  No answer.

  He waited, counting the seconds. Still nothing.

  He was reaching for the key she'd given him when the door swung open, revealing Tsunade in a sleepy haze. Her suspender nightgown left her shoulders bare—smooth, pale skin that caught the morning light—and the fabric did nothing to hide the generous curves beneath.

  "Teacher," Hanekawa said, holding out a wrapped box. "Happy birthday."

  Tsunade blinked at him like he'd spoken in a foreign language. "Birthday? Whose...?" She rubbed her eyes, and understanding slowly dawned. "Oh. Right. My birthday."

  "I'm going to make red bean rice," Hanekawa announced, already moving toward the kitchen.

  In the ninja world, red bean rice was the birthday tradition—the equivalent of birthday noodles from his past life.

  Tsunade unwrapped the gift while he cooked. Inside was a silver bracelet strung with pearls and delicate locks, and a set of elegant drinkware. She studied the bracelet for a moment, then slipped it onto her wrist. It looked perfect against her skin.

  She never wore jewelry. Except for one thing—her hand drifted to the necklace at her chest, the one she'd inherited from Hashirama Senju. Then she stood and disappeared into her room to change.

  When she emerged, she was dressed and waiting at the table.

  Hanekawa set down two bowls of red bean rice.

  "When's your birthday?" Tsunade asked.

  "Don't know," he said honestly. "I'm a war orphan. The Hidden Cloud raised me. I just know I'm seven."

  Tsunade's expression softened. She set down her chopsticks and reached into her pocket, pulling out a necklace—a pendant strung on a simple chain.

  "Then today is your birthday too," she said quietly.

  Hanekawa took the necklace, his mind immediately recognizing what it was. Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

  This was Hashirama Senju's necklace. The one Tsunade treasured above almost everything. The one she'd given to three people in the original timeline—and all three had died. The Death Necklace.

  Do I have some kind of immortality flag or something?

  "Are you not satisfied?" Tsunade's voice turned dangerous.

  "No! I mean—yes! I'm very satisfied!" Hanekawa quickly unfolded the chain and fastened it around his neck. The pendant settled against his chest, warm from her pocket. He caught a faint scent—something uniquely Tsunade.

  "Take care of it," she said, meeting his eyes with unusual intensity. "Don't lose it."

  "I won't," he promised, understanding the weight of what she'd just given him.

  This necklace was more than jewelry. It contained Hashirama's chakra—enough to suppress even the Nine-Tails. But more than that, it was a symbol. Tsunade didn't give this to people lightly. The fact that he wore it now meant something fundamental had shifted between them.

  He had her complete trust.

  "The bracelet looks perfect on you," he said, noticing how the silver caught the light against her skin.

  "Flattery," she said, but she was smiling. "Come on. Let's eat, then hit the casino."

  "Of course," Hanekawa said with mock seriousness.

  After breakfast, they headed to the casino. Tsunade settled into her usual spot at the gambling table and pulled Hanekawa onto her lap without ceremony. He'd long since stopped protesting—her lap was surprisingly comfortable, and she didn't seem to mind.

  She looked at the table with the intensity of a warrior preparing for battle.

  "I'm going to win big today," she declared.

  Hanekawa watched her play for a while, then dozed off to the rhythmic sound of cards shuffling and chips clicking.

  When he woke, the afternoon sun was streaming through the windows of Tsunade's house. He found her in the living room, setting a cake on the dining table.

  "You're awake," she said. "Come here. We're having cake."

  She lit the candles one by one, the small flames casting dancing shadows across her face.

  "Make a wish," she said, patting his head.

  For once, Hanekawa didn't complain about the head-pat. He looked at her—really looked at her—and felt something warm settle in his chest. This woman had given him her most precious possession. She'd claimed his birthday as her own just so he wouldn't be alone.

  He closed his eyes and made his wish.

  When he opened them, Tsunade was watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read. Then she smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through clouds.

  "Happy birthday, brat," she said softly.