"Oh?" Tsunade arched a brow, interest piqued at last, her attention finally peeling away from Jiraiya's lovely accompaniment. "Heading back? That old fox Danzō, actually willing to let a heavy hitter like you leave the front?" Surprise colored her tone, with the faintest flicker of envy.
Heaven knew how long it had been since she had touched dice or breathed in the sweet copper stink of a gambling den. Her hands itched. Then she looked at Ryo and sighed inwardly. Likely that old rat Danzō had been persuaded by this brat, by some means or other. The method felt familiar. Although no, in her case it was pure strength and fists. Ryo's method was, well, probably fists too. Tsunade wisely stopped overthinking it.
Jiraiya, wheezing like a busted bellows but with radar-sharp ears, jerked his head up, eyes gleaming. "B-Back to the village? Ryo, do me a favor."
He mustered what he thought was his most sincere expression. "Look at me, I'm not moving for a while. Since you're going back, could you take the little bit of merit I've got and go to the old man, Hiruzen, and, uh, get something approved?"
He licked his cracked lips, leaning into the words, a greasy sparkle of you know what I mean flashing across his face. "It's, it's that one. The space-jutsu. The Flying Thunder God. Coolest thing ever. The kid's talent is the real deal. If you've got time, maybe toss him a pointer or two? Heh heh…"
Silence fell in the tent for a few beats.
Tsunade folded her arms, rolling her beautiful eyes so hard they nearly flipped skyward. This guy was asking a favor like he was doing them one.
Ryo's gaze was steady, almost bored. He dropped two words, crisp and clean. "I refuse."
He glanced at Jiraiya, eyes as calm and distant as a deep pool. "Your disciple, what's that got to do with me? Close to me? Namikaze Minato? Just a classmate, nothing more. Can't help, and don't want to. That's it."
"W-what? You agreed? That's aweso, huh? You said, refuse?!" Jiraiya's pain-addled brain finally caught up. The smile of expectation hadn't even fully opened on his face before it collapsed. He looked like he had been made to swallow a fly, shocked, awkward, and aggrieved.
Reflexively, he looked to Tsunade for rescue.
"Hmph." Tsunade shot him a monumental eye-roll, chin tilting higher. "What are you thinking? He's your disciple. And who is Ryo, Konoha Academy's babysitter? Besides, he's a Chūnin. Ever heard of permissions and protocol?" She didn't spare him an ounce of face. Helping Minato petition for an S-rank technique was one thing. Asking Ryo to personally tutor him in the Flying Thunder God? The man's brain was definitely poisoned.
"But…" Jiraiya mumbled, crushed under pain and disappointment both, "isn't it… I mean, Ryo already mastered the Flying Thunder God, right? I figured… with Minato's talent…"
He kept fishing, but his voice had gone small. He had never imagined Ryo would refuse so cleanly, without an inch of give.
Nawaki, who had been happily spectating, scratched the back of his head. Soft-hearted, he stepped in to spare Jiraiya further embarrassment. "Jiraiya-nii, don't worry. When I see Hiruzen-sama, I'll bring up Minato. Should be fine."
Jiraiya seized the lifeline at once, shifting expressions like a seasoned actor. In a weighty, elder-beseeching tone, he said, "Nawaki. Then I'm counting on you. Tell the old man, see if they can make an exception and let Minato redeem the Flying Thunder God. If not, other top-tier jutsu scrolls are fine. He's my most promising seedling. Konoha's future Will of Fire rests on him. Do me this favor and I'll owe you for life. I'll buy you the best drink. Show you the grea, ahem, the most majestic mountains and rivers of Konoha." He nearly blurted something he shouldn't. The cough covered it.
"Enough, Jiraiya. Keep yowling and your wound will split again. Shut up. Lie down." Tsunade snapped, finally bringing the farce to a halt. She turned to the two young medics, who looked ready to faint, and said briskly,
"Go rest. I'll take over."
They fled with grateful bows.
Tsunade's eyes slid back to Ryo, the message plain. Danzō might be settled for now, but paperwork couldn't leave handles for him to grab. His pettiness had no bottom.
"As for you, brat," her tone softened but kept its edge, "you're not going back for nothing. There's a batch of severely wounded who must be transferred to Konoha for further treatment. You'll act as escort captain and deliver them safely to the village gates. I'll issue a formal mission order, no one will dare nitpick."
She paused, eyes skimming Ryo's young, blade-sharp face, then flicking to the ink-black sky outside the tent. A thread of gravity shaded her voice. "Bring back every single one. Got it?"
Ryo understood at once. This escort was an iron gate, a shield stamped with the seal of Konoha's Princess and top medical commander. It temporarily folded all of Ryo's movements, up to and including anything he might do in Konoha, under Tsunade's direct-task umbrella.
Safeguard the lives of critically wounded comrades. An unassailable priority. It was a royal amulet draped over Ryo's shoulders, plugging any process loopholes. His return to the village was justified, compliant, airtight.
Let Danzō scheme. First ask the tens of thousands on the front if they would accept undermining the medical commander's judgment on life and death. Ask Tsunade's seal if it agreed.
Lay a finger on him, and you're spitting on every blood-soaked shinobi. Political correctness and strategic necessity, in the face of the Princess's will and fists, were all hot air.
That was a proper backer, quietly flattening every ambush path while chalking you up for merit. High-handed, protective, unreasonable, and it felt great.
A glint of understanding flashed in Ryo's eyes. Tsunade's decisiveness, and her way of shielding her own, suited him perfectly. Fewer headaches for him. He didn't hesitate. He straightened and accepted with clear, ringing confidence, as though taking an honor rather than a burden.
"Understood. Mission accepted. I'll get it done."
With Tsunade's golden shield, the road to Konoha would be clear. As for what came next, stirring up a little fun in the village, maybe leaving a surprise for certain people, the initiative was entirely his.
Tap.
Tsunade lifted her pen and swept her signature across a pre-prepared scroll in bold, flowing strokes.
(To be continued.)