Tsunade spun sharply, her drenched cloak tossing a spray of cold droplets into the muddy ground. With each step, the mire squelched beneath her feet, not just mud, but the weight of reality pressing down like iron.
That weight didn't slow her. It lit something inside her instead, a fire of resolve that burned against the cold. Her goal was set. Return to Konoha. Convince that stubborn old man to change the course of the war.
The oppressive atmosphere of the camp parted in her path, as if even the air itself yielded to her determination.
At the same time, deep within the command zone.
Ryo sat cross-legged on a simple straw mat. His eyes half-closed, breath steady. Every external sound was filtered out by an invisible wall. His mind sank deeper into himself, beyond the limits of the body, into the space where will and bloodline merged.
There, in the darkness of his consciousness, a light ignited.
A burst of pure brilliance tore through the black. At its center, silver script shimmered in the void like molten steel.
---
["Host Status: Scan complete]
[Shanks' Legacy Integration increased to: 59.7%!]
[Shanks' Legacy unlocked to: 60%!]
[Current Power Classification: Kage-level
System Assessment: You have one foot firmly on the threshold of the Kage class. Your blade gleams. The bottleneck is within reach."]
---
"Another year," he thought.
Every battle, every brush with death, each moment soaked in blood had pushed the percentage forward—little by little, drop by agonizing drop.
59.7%. Just 0.3% remained.
So little. It seemed one realization, one flash of inspiration could tear through it.
But the distance still felt enormous.
Ryo felt no impatience. Only a sharp excitement rising in his chest.
This war in the rain-soaked land had raged for over two years. The dead piled high. The living moved like ghosts.
Konoha. The entire shinobi world. They all needed a breakthrough, someone to break the chokehold of this stalemate.
Outside the tent, the wind howled, cold and sharp. It slipped through every crack, reminding all that every breath on the battlefield was a luxury. There was no shelter waiting. Only iron. Only blood.
The flap of the tent flew open. Dim light pierced through like a knife, dragging in the scent of wet soil and iron rain.
Uchiha Mikoto stepped in.
She wore simple light-blue civilian clothes. The minimalist design framed her tall, upright figure. Damp strands of black hair clung to her cheek and brow. Her face was flushed from the walk, but her lips curled into a soft, genuine smile. A hint of warmth in this endless night.
The flickering lamp cast a gentle glow, cloaking her in soft light. As if, just for a moment, she stood untouched by the war outside.
"Ryo-kun."
Her voice was like spring water. Calm. Clear. The cold tent instantly felt warmer.
Ryo opened his eyes. His gaze, normally sharp as a blade, softened the moment he saw her. Her presence steadied him. He rose with a fluid movement.
"Mikoto."
His tone was low, familiar.
No words were needed. They simply moved closer. Ryo raised a hand and gently placed it at the small of her back. Mikoto leaned in, cool and composed. They didn't speak, but in the silence, something unspoken bloomed.
Outside, the storm seemed to pause.
In that silence, the world faded. Just the two of them, standing in peace so rare it felt like a miracle.
Over the past year, with Kushina sealed deep inside Konoha as the Nine-Tails jinchūriki, Mikoto had silently stepped up as Ryo's anchor. She knew when to speak, when to stay quiet. Never demanding. Never overreaching. Like a spring hidden in scorched earth, she gave him a place to breathe, even if only briefly.
And in Ryo's heart, the idea of "abandoning Kushina" was absurd.
Fate had given him two flames—one blazing like fire, the other flowing like water. That alone was a gift beyond measure. In this world of war, in life and death, he had one belief: value and protect these bonds with everything.
A child chooses one. A man protects both.
Their breaths touched, then parted. Mikoto's cheeks turned pink, her eyes full of light. Her voice was softer than usual, yet clear.
"New Year is coming. We… should go back to Konoha for a while."
The hope in her voice was real. So was the caution.
The front lines had quieted. Suna and Ame forces had entered a silent standoff. But this calm was thin, like the last sheet of ice on a thawing river. One touch, and it could all collapse into blood again.
"Tsunade-sama said the transport route and escort team for the wounded are ready," Mikoto added, her tone carrying a hint of excitement.
Ryo nodded without pause. "Good."
His voice was sharp, clean. A trace of longing flashed in his expression.
"I miss Kushina."
Simple words. A simple truth. He had never hidden how he felt. Not from Mikoto. Not from anyone.
That honesty soothed something in Mikoto. The weight she carried for Kushina, for their bond, eased. Knowing that Ryo's heart hadn't shifted because of her brought quiet relief.
"Mhm."
A soft laugh slipped out. She nudged his arm lightly.
"I miss her too. If we go back, we have to make her take us to that new dumpling place in Konoha. It's been so long since we walked through the village together."
Talk of food. Of festivals. Of peace.
In that moment, those small things felt like treasure.
Suddenly—
The tent's flap was yanked open. A gust of wind slammed inside, ripping the warmth away. The lamp flickered violently. Shadows jumped on the canvas walls.
"You two done yet?! Or should I come back later?"
A sharp voice rang out, full of irritation and mockery.
Tsunade stood in the doorway, her ponytail soaked, skirt hem dripping. Arms crossed. Her sharp eyes swept over Ryo and Mikoto.
Mikoto sprang away like a startled cat, face flushed red to her ears. She stammered, "T-Tsunade-sama! I'll, I'll go prepare the wounded transport roster now!"
She bolted, fleeing into the rain outside.
A long silence fell.
Tsunade walked to the center, eyes heavy with fatigue. Her voice was teasing, but the tone was mild.
"I don't get it. Mikoto and Kushina both? What do they see in you?" She folded her arms tighter. "Whatever. You'll figure it out eventually."
But behind the sarcasm was something unspoken. Even she didn't understand why, but knowing Ryo held both women in his heart sparked something in her. Not annoyance. Maybe curiosity. Or… something else.
Ryo leaned lazily against the central pole. "Crazy old bat."
Tsunade's smirk dropped.
"I'm going back to Konoha. And you're coming too."
Ryo's gaze narrowed.
"Still chasing that plan? Peace with Hanzo? Ending the war?"
"Konoha's elders have heads harder than stone. Unless you become Hokage and force it yourself…"
He didn't finish. The implication hung heavy.
"…your plan will end up buried. Forgotten. Just like every other ideal."
But his tone shifted.
"Still. If you don't try, you'll never know. Go all in. I won't stop you."
Tsunade took a long breath. The damp air filled her lungs. She locked eyes with him.
"I don't care if it's a wall, a cliff, or a pit of hell. I'll ram the words 'withdraw and rethink' into the old man's ears. I'll say it loud enough to shake the village."
Her voice rang like steel.
Ryo gave a short nod.
"I'm with you."
He backed people, not ideologies. If this was Tsunade's road, he would walk it with her.
The tension lifted slightly. A glimmer returned to her eyes.
"Then we leave tomorrow."
She turned to go, then glanced back at him.
"You monster. Your aura… it's changed again."
Ryo shrugged.
Tsunade didn't press. She simply nodded and left.
—
At dawn, the camp stirred.
The wounded were loaded onto stretchers. The rain had eased. The sky was still gray, but a faint light pierced through.
Tsunade, Ryo, Mikoto, and Nawaki gathered at the edge of the camp.
"Nawaki, lead the escort," Tsunade ordered.
Ryo's thoughts drifted as Mikoto stood quietly at his side.
The muddy trail stretched ahead, disappearing into the mist.
Konoha lay beyond.
And the storm that waited with it.
(To be continued.)
◇◇◇
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 200 Power Stones.
◇ You can read the ahead chapter on Pat if you're interested: p-atreon.c-om/Blownleaves (Just remove the hyphen to access normally.)