Tsunade, despite her chaste nature, was not an overly energetic person in daily life.
Her experience with self-pleasure was limited—perhaps once every six months.
And even then, she never dared to venture too deep.
Only the lightest touch of her fingertips along the outer edges.
As Tsunade carefully tended to herself, Li Fan awoke in the real world.
His eyes snapped open, taking in the familiar ceiling above.
Immediately, he threw back the covers—just as he suspected, his pants were damp.
Li Fan smirked. Though it was barely past five in the morning, he rose with unnatural vigor and headed for the shower.
The shameless Li Fan from the dream was gone.
In his place stood a composed, elegant man.
By 5:30 AM, he had finished bathing.
Drying his hair, he reclined against the pillows, hands folded over the blanket, and opened the system's redemption page.
Too caught up in the moment earlier, he mused. Now that I'm thinking clearly, there are problems to address.
First and foremost: Tsunade.
Based on her words and actions in the dream, she still believed him to be a manifestation of her subconscious.
But that lie wouldn't hold forever.
Though he'd kept a low profile—unknown despite being the Third Kazekage's disciple—Tsunade's indifference to shinobi affairs had worked in his favor.
She hadn't recognized him.
And with no signs of genjutsu intrusion, she'd mistaken him for a figment of her mind.
But Tsunade was a war veteran.
She would have ordered an investigation into "Li Fan's" existence.
Last night's deception only worked because it was too soon for intel to reach her.
By today, that could change.
Once she learned of a Sand Village shinobi matching his description, her entire perspective would shatter.
She'd assume he was using some unknown technique to infiltrate her mind.
Even if she didn't storm the Sand Village in retaliation, she'd return to Konoha for help.
With the full might of the Leaf's resources, they'd scour for signs of illusions or mind-altering ninjutsu.
Li Fan was confident in his abilities—Kimura's level of skill wouldn't uncover anything.
His connection to Tsunade's dreams relied on the unique properties of Magnet Release.
The Naruto world's technology was advanced in odd ways, but brainwave research? Nonexistent.
Still, if Konoha caught wind of Tsunade being remotely harassed—or worse, controlled—through dreams?
Disaster.
The Third Hokage, for all his gentleness, wouldn't tolerate such an affront.
Especially now, in his fifties, still sharp and far from the weakened elder he'd become in a decade.
Li Fan's fingers flew across the redemption page.
I need a solution—fast. Something to make her stay silent. Or forget entirely.
Two and a half hours later, Land of Fire – A Hotel Room
Tsunade's eyes fluttered open.
The moment she did, she registered the dampness between her legs.
The sticky discomfort of her underwear sent heat rushing to her face.
In the dream, after the demon vanished, she'd thought to finish herself off.
But the more she touched, the more frantic she became.
Seven times.
Seven times before she'd finally, reluctantly, stopped.
Had her underwear not been soaked through, she might've continued.
Tsunade shook her head violently, her ample chest swaying with the motion.
"Tch—!"
She tried to stand, but her legs buckled instantly.
Only a quick brace of her arms saved her from collapsing.
Stuck halfway between sitting and lying, she waited for strength to return.
Then, with careful effort, she rolled onto her back, landing with a soft thud.
Staring blankly at the ceiling, her voice was eerily calm:
"Seven times in a row… and now I can't even stand."
A pause. Then, relief:
"At least it was just a dream. Just my subconscious. In reality, I'm still—"
BANG BANG BANG BANG!
A frantic pounding at her door.
Tsunade, still basking in the afterglow of her rare indulgence, scowled.
"What?!"
"Lady Tsunade!" Shizune's voice, breathless. "The investigation—the one you ordered yesterday! We have results!"
Tsunade felt no urgency.
If Li Fan was a product of her subconscious, what did it matter?
Still lying there, she called back, "Oh? And?"
Shizune, clutching a stack of papers outside, blinked at her master's indifference.
Such composure… As expected of a Sannin.
Steadying herself, she replied, "We found him. There's only one shinobi named 'Li Fan' in the entire world."
Tsunade's heart lurched.
She fought the impulse to sit up—not that she could, with her legs still weak.
Fists clenched, she forced her voice level:
"Details. Let me see them."
A flick of her fingers.
The door's lock shattered.
Shizune pushed inside, eyeing the broken mechanism in confusion.
Why not just open it normally?
"Stop staring. Hand it over."
The sharpness in Tsunade's tone startled Shizune into action.
She hurried to the bedside, offering the documents.
Tsunade snatched them, scanning each line with growing dread.
Then—the photo.
Her breath hitched.
The papers crumpled in her grip.
Shizune peered cautiously.
The image showed a young man with black hair and a mild smile—unremarkable but pleasant-looking, mid-twenties, forehead protector marking him as a Jonin.
Nothing unusual.
CRACK!
Shizune jumped as the floorboards beneath Tsunade splintered.
The Sannin's glare could've melted steel.
Yet the fact that the room still stood proved she hadn't truly lost control.
A tense silence.
Then, quietly:
"Shizune."
The apprentice stiffened. "Y-Yes?"
Tsunade's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling.
Her fists trembled.
"Why doesn't this mention him specializing in genjutsu? Or anything spiritual?"
Shizune, sensing her master's fury, answered carefully:
"According to the records, Li Fan is the Third Kazekage's disciple. Introverted, rarely seen outside. His known abilities are Magnet Release: Gold Dust—weaker than the Third's Iron Sand—and proficiency in wind-style ninjutsu."
A pause. "Konoha's files list no aptitude for illusions. And the Sand Village has few genjutsu specialists to begin with."
Tsunade exhaled slowly.
Then, flatly: "Pack. We're leaving."
Shizune nodded—then hesitated. "Where to?"
Tsunade's jaw clenched audibly.
"Konoha."
A beat. Then, through gritted teeth:
"If I can't solve this, then the village's best minds will. And if that bastard thinks he can harass me without consequences—let's see how he likes provoking a war!"
Her voice cracked.
"That lying, twisted pervert! Tricking me in my own dreams! And I—I fell for it!"
Shizune paled. The words "Ninja World War" and Tsunade's rare use of "I" (instead of her usual royal "we") signaled catastrophe.
She turned to leave—
"Wait."
Tsunade's voice was suddenly small.
"…Carry me to the bathroom first."
Shizune blinked. "What?"
Tsunade refused to meet her eyes.
She'd hoped to avoid this humiliation, but her body refused to cooperate.
Not only were her legs useless, but even her chakra felt sluggish.
That tiny wind jutsu to break the lock had drained her.
Eight times. Eight times in one night.
And now she couldn't even mold chakra properly.
Shizune, sensing her master's shame, moved to help—
Then smelled it.
A floral, musky scent.
The sheets beneath Tsunade were drenched.
Her pants, too, bore a conspicuous stain.
Shizune's face burned.
Though a virgin, Tsunade's thorough teachings had left no gaps in her education.
Wordlessly, she lifted her master.
Halfway to the bathroom, she ventured:
"…Once we return to the village, will we leave again?"
Tsunade's eyes were hollow. "Not until the old man handles this."
"Will there really be war?"
"Maybe—" Tsunade froze. "Wait. What did you just say?"