"Sorry.
I'm not interested in that."
As Tobirama had predicted, Emiya Shihara declined Hashirama's offer, refusing even to take a new mission from his list.
> [D-Rank Mission: Beat Tsunade once at the gambling table]
Shihara's commission list still showed [Uncompleted Commissions 2/3]. He could only take one more, and he never accepted a mission lightly. Years ago in the Land of Iron he had tested one on Danzo as punishment and the result had taken months to resolve. Since then he had been far more cautious.
Most of all, Shihara did not trust his luck.
He was, after all, a time-traveller who had been thrown a thousand years into the past and had survived only by weaving plans around the Sage of Six Paths and Black Zetsu.
What if I couldn't beat Tsunade and got stuck in the ninja world for a mere D-rank reward?
What if I beat her once and then lost every game afterward, my thousand-year plan undone by three tiny dice?
That would be tragic.
---
Tsunade had finished counting her coins and now looked up at him curiously.
"You're not interested in gambling?"
"There are far more important things to enjoy in this world," Shihara replied.
His eyes were calm, almost lifeless, yet the radiance behind them remained. Anyone who met him saw kindness in every expression, a light that even reincarnation could not hide.
"Tsuna," Hashirama said, putting away the dice cup, "do you remember the stories your grandparents tell you before bed?"
"The stories about Lord Emiya Shihara?"
Little Tsunade's eyes lit up.
At five years old she adored bedtime tales, especially her grandfather's. In them, villagers stricken with illness or despair were saved by a humble young healer named Emiya Shihara. Hashirama's versions were simple, but Mito's were richer and stranger: Shihara with a tiny slug on his shoulder, riding a cart drawn by a nine-tailed fox, descending on a suffering village like a god. Sometimes the fox behaved, sometimes it raged like a pet with a will of its own. Tsunade had even cried when the fox asked to be sealed away so it would not frighten patients.
These stories of truth, goodness and beauty—sprinkled with humor—were perfect for a naïve little girl. She dreamed of becoming a medical ninja just like him.
"We tell her about Lord Emiya every day," Hashirama said proudly. "She's started refining chakra. Her control is even better than mine was at her age! Maybe she'll really become an excellent medical ninja."
"Of course I will!" Tsunade burst out, thinking her great-grandfather was doubting her. The coins in her arms spilled to the floor but she didn't care. "I won't give up like you did. I'll become the greatest medical ninja, just like Master Emiya Shihara—enduring pain no one else can endure, saving people who can't escape suffering!"
Shihara looked at the little girl for a long moment. Then, quietly, he said, "I'll be staying in Konoha for now. If you have questions, you may ask me."
Hashirama blinked in surprise. Tobirama only nodded; this was the Shihara he knew. The ancient healer had never hesitated to share medical knowledge. For ten years every emissary Tobirama sent had returned with piles of medical scrolls—treasures for the next generation.
Shihara rose, faced the girl squarely and extended his hand.
"I'm Emiya Shihara," he said solemnly. "I'm a medical ninja."
Tsunade stared, stunned. Slowly she lifted her small hand to meet his.
"My name is Tsunade…" she whispered, still unable to believe the hero of her bedtime stories stood before her.
Hashirama's expression grew serious. Even Tobirama straightened. Before their eyes stood the founder of the medical-ninja system, a man who had transcended life, death and time. And he was acknowledging a child's dream, passing on his will to the future.
What they could not know was that for years a crystal coffin had been prepared for Tsunade in both the Senju compound and the Shikkotsu Forest. Had Tobirama not risked the Impure World Reincarnation to summon Shihara early, Tsunade herself would have been the one destined to open that coffin.
Even now, the second coffin was still in her hands.
Füll bōøk àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)