As evening fell, Kushina ended her day of work, dragging her weary feet back to her home.
The moment she pushed open the door, her eyes instinctively swept across the living room—it was empty.
There was no sound of cooking from the kitchen, and the bedroom door remained tightly shut.
"Saiki?" she called out tentatively.
There was no response.
Kushina stood in the entryway for a long moment before slowly removing her shoes.
She walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator; inside were only the leftovers from the night before.
The stove was cold, clearly untouched throughout the day.
She poured herself a glass of water and sat at the dining table, her fingers tracing the rim of the glass.
Outside, the sky was darkening, and the streetlights flickered on one by one.
The house was so quiet she could hear the rhythm of her own breathing.
Saiki hadn't come.
Kushina bit her lip, a wave of inexplicable disappointment surging in her chest.
They had been so intimate the night before, and he had promised that morning to pick her up after work...
Was I too cold last night? she wondered.
She replayed the scenes of the previous night—Saiki's tenderness, his heat... and what about her?
Because of her bashfulness, she never dared to be proactive, and her responses were always guarded by a layer of maidenly reserve.
Maybe... he actually prefers someone bolder?
Kushina's face flamed, and she buried her face in her hands.
Next time... should I try taking the initiative?
Like the heroines in those spicy novels...
But the mere thought made her heart race with embarrassment.
She shook her head, stood up, and began preparing a simple, lonely dinner.
A meal for one always tasted like nothing.
At the same time, inside the Hokage Building.
Tsunade closed the final document and massaged her aching neck.
It was completely dark outside now, and only a single desk lamp illuminated her office.
She glanced at the clock on the wall—dinnertime had already passed.
Saiki hadn't come to see her all day to discuss the war.
That morning he had said he was going to see a few people, and she assumed he'd find his way to her office by the afternoon at the latest.
But he never showed.
Tsunade stood up and walked to the window.
Below the building, the streets of Konoha were sparsely lit, the wartime nights feeling exceptionally desolate.
She thought about last night... she had clearly been very proactive.
Those shameful positions, those bold responses—she had tried them all.
Was it still not enough?
Compared to Nono'u... Tsunade bit her lip.
She had met that woman a few times; Nono'u was so gentle she seemed to be made of water, her voice soft and her eyes full of nothing but doting affection for Saiki.
And what about herself?
Hot-tempered, blunt, and a whirlwind of efficiency when handling affairs.
Though she had softened significantly toward Saiki in private, she couldn't match Nono'u's innate, nurturing warmth.
In the future... should I try being gentler?
The thought made Tsunade want to laugh at her own absurdity.
Tsunade Senju, the Fourth Hokage, even if not yet officially inaugurated, was actually considering how to be "sweet" just to keep a man?
She let out a heavy sigh, switched off the lamp, and left the office.
On the walk home, the night breeze carried a chill.
Tsunade wrapped her green haori tighter around her, her pace quickening.
Maybe Saiki was just delayed by business.
Maybe he was already at home, waiting for her.
But when she pushed open her front door, she only saw Shizune reading a book in the living room.
"Lady Tsunade, you're back!" Shizune set down her book. "Dinner is warming in the kitchen. I'll go get it."
"Where is Saiki?" Tsunade asked, keeping her voice as neutral as possible.
Shizune shook her head. "Lord Saiki went out this afternoon and hasn't returned."
Tsunade gave a curt "Mm" and asked nothing more.
She sat at the table looking at the food Shizune brought, but she had no appetite.
Two women, in different corners of Konoha, were falling into the same pit of anxiety and self-doubt because of the same man's absence.
And what they didn't know was that at this very moment, that scumbag Saiki was drowning in a completely different kind of tenderness.
The Orphanage. Nono'u's private room.
The bathroom was thick with white steam.
Inside a large wooden tub, Saiki leaned against the rim with his eyes closed, the warm water reaching his chest.
Nono'u was kneeling behind him, her hands covered in a fragrant lather of soap, gently scrubbing his back.
Her movements were slow and meticulous, attending to every knuckle and every inch of skin.
"Your muscles are so tight here..." Nono'u's fingertips pressed near Saiki's shoulder blades, feeling the knotted fibers. "You must have sat still for far too long."
"Mm," Saiki hummed, his voice laced with the lethargy of total relaxation. "Two years. I barely moved a muscle."
Nono'u let out a pained, empathetic sigh.
She knew he had been in "deep meditation," but she hadn't realized it was such a state of near-stasis.
When a human body remains fixed for that long, the joints and muscles turn to stone.
She began to use her professional medical techniques to massage him.
Her thumbs pressed into acupoints, her palms kneaded the muscle tissue, and her fingertips unblocked his meridians.
As a former top-tier medical ninja of the Root, Nono'u's understanding of the human anatomy far exceeded a standard doctor.
Saiki could feel the stiff parts of his body—remnants of his two-year vigil—slowly melting and stretching under her hands.
While Sage Chakra kept his body clean, it couldn't erase this kind of deep-seated physical fatigue.
"Are you leaving tomorrow... or the day after?" Nono'u asked softly, her hands never stopping.
"Depends," Saiki said. "I need to intervene in the war as soon as possible."
Nono'u went silent.
She knew he wouldn't stay long; the pressure on the front lines was too great.
This made her cherish every second even more, wanting him to relax and rest as much as humanly possible.
"Turn around," she whispered.
Saiki turned in the tub to face her.
The water rippled between them, and the thick steam made their features look soft and blurry.
Nono'u picked up a cloth and began to wash his chest and arms.
Her touch remained motherly and tender, her eyes focused as if she were polishing a priceless treasure.
Saiki watched her.
The steam had dampened the stray hairs at her forehead, making them stick to her pale skin.
Her long lashes were beaded with tiny droplets of water, fluttering every time she blinked.
Her two soft mounds swayed slightly with her movements. Though they weren't as gargantuan as Tsunade's, they were like heavy, succulent fruit hanging from a delicate branch.
"Sister Director," Saiki called out.
"Mm?" Nono'u looked up.
"Thank you," Saiki said, reaching out to take her hand.
Nono'u smiled, a look so gentle it felt like a spring breeze. "Silly boy. Why are you thanking me?"
As she spoke, she moved slightly closer. Saiki's hand didn't hesitate; it slid up and covered one of her naked, wet breasts.
Feeling the sneak attack, she looked down, her face flushing pink, but she didn't pull away. She simply continued her work.
Faced with such absolute tolerance and love, Saiki didn't dare act too wildly. He simply let his hand rest there, savoring the incredible softness and the warmth of her heart.
She continued until every inch of him was clean.
Then, she picked up a wooden ladle, scooped up warm water, and poured it slowly over his head.
The water cascaded through his black hair, down his face, and over his shoulders.
Saiki closed his eyes, surrendering to the meticulous care.
After the bath, Nono'u brought a clean towel and patted him dry.
Every gesture was natural and full of affection, as if she had performed this ritual a thousand times before.
"There." She stood up, her legs a bit numb from kneeling. She swayed slightly.
Saiki caught her instantly, scooping her up in a bridal carry.
"Ah!" Nono'u let out a soft cry, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck. "You... put me down. I can walk."
"I'll carry you," Saiki said, stepping out of the steam and into the bedroom.
The bedroom was lit by only a small, dim lamp, casting a warm glow over the furniture.
Saiki laid Nono'u gently on the bed and leaned over her.
Fresh from the bath, her cheeks were flushed, and her damp hair was spread across the pillow.
Her creamy, jade-like skin was still glistening with moisture, and the lush, beautiful curves of a mature woman were displayed without reservation.
Saiki's throat hitched.
Nono'u sensed the shift in his aura. Her blush deepened, but she didn't look away. She reached up and stroked his cheek.
"Are you tired?" she asked softly.
Saiki shook his head, took her hand, and pressed a kiss to the palm.
Then he leaned down and captured her lips.
The kiss was slow and heavy with a desperate sense of attachment.
Nono'u closed her eyes and responded, her fingers sliding into his semi-dry hair.
The kiss was soft, wet, and seemingly endless.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard.
Saiki snapped his fingers. In a puff of smoke, he used his ability to transform back into his twelve-year-old form.
Of course, "certain parts" of him remained unaffected by the shrinking. He wanted Nono'u to feel the full weight of his growth and his longing through the contrast.
"You naughty child!" Nono'u, with her high-level psychological training, understood his intent perfectly.
He was playing into his "Mommy" complex.
She gave him a look that was half-amused, half-irritated, making Saiki feel a bit sheepish.
"Mm... you've grown up, haven't you? But you look more familiar to me like this," Nono'u whispered. Even though she knew he was being a deviant, she spoke with nothing but tenderness.
Even if Saiki's heart were made of cold iron, it would have melted under her gaze. "Sister Director... I missed you."
"I missed you too, very much," she replied.
Saiki leaned down, and she welcomed his kiss.
When he buried his face between those two mounds of softness, she gently massaged the back of his head, "nursing" him with her warmth.
Even when Saiki captured her mouth again, she only bit her lip in shame, enduring his "wickedness" without a single move to stop him.
Soon, the rhythmic "clapping" started in the room. They became entangled, their voices joined by the sound of heavy, desperate breathing.
The Saiki in his twelve-year-old form was drenched in sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Even as he pounded into her with "childish" brutality, Nono'u's expression remained one of divine gentleness.
Even as sweat soaked her body and her breath hitched with every impact, she reached up with a slender hand to wipe the perspiration from Saiki's forehead.
"Are you tired? If you are, we can rest for a moment," she whispered. "Whenever you want me, Sister is always here for you."
Looking at the motherly devotion in her eyes—seeing that she was the one being ravaged, yet her only concern was him—Saiki felt a crushing sense of guilt, which only served to make his arousal more intense.
"Sister Director... give me a child, okay?" Saiki said with total sincerity, staring into her eyes.
"Mm," Nono'u replied with a soft, affirmative hum. At that, Saiki could no longer hold back.
Feeling his impending release, Nono'u proactively tightened her hold on him. With a final, high-pitched cry of ecstatic surrender, everything went still, leaving only the sound of two people gasping for air.
After a long while, Saiki was still panting, his eyes rolling back slightly. Nono'u, having recovered a fraction of her strength, gently stroked his head and back.
"Just this once tonight," she whispered. "Don't wear yourself out. You have to go to the front tomorrow. If you still want me, I'll give you everything when you return in victory."
Saiki lifted his head to look at her—those eyes that could encompass the whole world. "Don't worry, Sister Director. We will win. I will come back to you safely."
"Mm. I believe you. But you must protect yourself," she urged.
The night grew deeper.
The moon reached its zenith, casting a silver light through the window onto the two lovers.
Nono'u curled into Saiki's arms and fell into a peaceful sleep.
Saiki held her tight, listening to her steady breathing and feeling her warmth. His soul found a moment of absolute silence.
The front lines, the war, the duties... all of it could wait for the sun.
Tonight, in this tender embrace, he was just a beloved child.
The moonlight was like water; the dream was long and sweet.