Another month slipped by, and Senmei Asahi once again found himself buried in busyness.
Truth be told, he had been busy ever since returning from the front lines more than half a year earlier. Back then, his days had been consumed by his own research — endless experiments, long hours of trial and error. The war had provided him both cover and necessity for his work, and in that span he had neglected many other matters.
When the decisive battle between Konoha and Kumogakure was fought, Asahi had not even stepped onto the battlefield. Instead, he remained in the rear, tending to the wounded when called upon, but spending every spare moment locked away, conducting forbidden experiments on the cells of the First Hokage. That research had devoured his attention, his thoughts, and his time.
But now his hands were full for an entirely different reason. The day of Namikaze Minato's wedding was drawing near, and all of Konoha was stirring in anticipation.
To be honest, when Asahi had first crossed into this world, Minato had been little more than a distant name in history to him. A Hokage who had died young — nothing more. But time had a way of reshaping one's perspective. It was only after Minato had chosen to selflessly share his knowledge, passing down something precious, that Asahi's view of him had shifted.
If not for Minato's generosity, many of Asahi's long-laid plans would have been impossible. Releasing the Three-Tails into Kirigakure, daring to sever ties with Orochimaru — none of these could have been achieved without that foundation. In truth, Minato had become something like a benefactor to him.
And Minato was not the only one Asahi kept in his heart. Yamamoto (his teacher from the Academy), Ueno, Tsunade — all those who had guided him, shaped him, influenced him in one way or another — Asahi remembered them. Even if some of the paths he had chosen ran counter to their ideals, even if his methods had strayed from the principles they upheld, that did not erase the gratitude he bore.
Minato had originally wished for a simple wedding, modest and understated. But Uzumaki Kushina adored the joyous atmosphere such ceremonies created. And Minato, about to ascend as the Fourth Hokage, could not ignore the political significance of the event. This wedding was no longer a private matter; it was a chance to strengthen bonds with the great clans and the influential families of the village. Under Kushina's enthusiasm and the insistence of Konoha's elders, Minato had finally relented.
On the appointed day, Minato found himself exhausted, his smile carrying a strain beneath its warmth. For him, the endless procession of rituals and ceremonies — offerings to the gods, symbolic gestures of purification, traditional rites — felt far more taxing than facing five thousand Iwagakure shinobi on the battlefield. By the time the ceremonies concluded, dusk had already fallen.
The evening banquet was lively, but it was hardly a place of comfort for Asahi. Families mingled, alliances were reinforced, old comrades exchanged stories of the past. But such social currents did not interest him. He ate quickly, offered a polite excuse, and slipped away.
Konoha at night was a different sight entirely. The curfew imposed during the war had been lifted, and the streets pulsed with life. Lanterns glowed, vendors called out, the scent of grilled food wafted through the air. Children laughed, couples strolled hand in hand, shinobi finally free of tension allowed themselves smiles. The pain of war seemed to have receded into memory.
But Asahi knew better. It wasn't true forgetfulness, only a selective kind. Humanity had a way of burying its grief. Sad memories were pushed into the shadows, while happy ones were polished and displayed like treasures.
A cynic might look upon this joy and think of the countless shinobi who had bled and died, their sacrifices already forgotten. But an optimist would see something else: that those sacrifices had meaning, that they had carved the path to this very moment of peace.
Perhaps that was the truest difference between Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama — the one clinging to bitterness, the other nurturing hope.
Walking alone through the lamplit streets, Asahi was uncertain what emotions stirred within him. Gratitude? Nostalgia? Perhaps indifference. After thirteen years in this world, he had integrated into it fully. He had grown to care for Konoha in his own way. Yet he remained someone of weak emotions, his heart never burning with great passion.
'Strange…?'
Just as he turned toward a side street leading home, a ripple of awareness flickered across his senses. He was being followed.
The stalker was skilled. Their steps were light, their chakra masked. If they had not deliberately allowed a trace of presence to slip through, Asahi would never have noticed.
'Anbu? Root? No… neither fits. Their aura is too sharp, too precise. Could it be… Orochimaru?'
He slowed, his eyes narrowing, then altered his path, heading deliberately toward the forest behind the Hokage Rock. A secluded place. If this pursuer wished to confront him, let it be there.
Stopping in a quiet clearing, Asahi spoke aloud, his voice calm but edged. "You've followed me far enough. Come out."
From the shadows, a slender figure emerged. Golden hair shimmered in the moonlight. A beautiful face hardened into seriousness. It was Tsunade.
"Tsunade nee-san." Asahi greeted, his tone respectful. Yet even as he spoke, unease twisted in his gut. Something was wrong.
Tsunade's eyes bore into him, her usual warmth absent. Her tone was sharp, laced with anger. "You… you've been secretly cooperating with Orochimaru, haven't you?"
Asahi's chest tightened. "When… when did you find out?" he asked quietly.
"Hmph!" Tsunade's glare could have cut stone. "You admit it so easily. I thought you'd at least attempt to deny it."
"You're mistaken about one thing." Asahi answered evenly. "It's not that I was cooperating with Orochimaru behind your back. From the very beginning, when I became your disciple, it was Orochimaru who benefited from that arrangement."
The truth sat bitter on his tongue.
If it had been mere cooperation, perhaps Tsunade would not have reacted with such fury. But clearly, she had learned something deeper, something that revealed his long entanglement with Orochimaru. Someone had told her, or perhaps she had pieced it together herself.
Between being labeled a traitor and admitting to being a spy, Asahi knew which burden was lighter. Better a spy, if it meant Tsunade might one day forgive him.
*Boom!*
Her fist smashed into the earth where he had stood a moment earlier, debris exploding upward. Tsunade's strength was monstrous, and her fury gave it edge.
Asahi dodged back, his breath sharp. "I've broken with Orochimaru! I have nothing to do with him anymore!" he cried out.
"That's your business!" Tsunade snarled, charging again. Her movements blurred, her strength terrifying.
He evaded again and again, the ground trembling each time her fist struck. A single hit would shatter him.
"Truthfully," Asahi called, voice strained as he twisted out of her reach once more, "I always feared this day would come. But I never wanted it to arrive so soon."
"If I hadn't uncovered it myself," Tsunade's voice thundered, "you would have kept it from me forever, wouldn't you?"
"Yes!" Asahi answered without hesitation. "I would have hidden it from you. If it could have remained a secret, then perhaps our relationship could have stayed as it was. If you never knew, maybe we could have carried on."
"Dreams!" Tsunade spat, fury blazing in her eyes.
Her next strike tore through stone.
Asahi's voice softened, even as he darted aside. "To me, Orochimaru was nothing. You are my family. I regret deceiving you."
Tsunade halted for the briefest moment, her fists trembling. "Then why don't you claim Orochimaru forced you into it?" she asked, voice cold as steel.
"Orochimaru may have coerced me into certain acts." Asahi admitted, meeting her gaze without wavering. "But the decision to follow him was my own. I will not lie to you. I swear — I have never done anything that would harm you."
*****
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