Her voice was a bit raspy.
Nobunaga did not speak.
Tsunade leaned against the wall, looking up at the ceiling.
"Do you know? That person today was only seventeen."
"His leg was blown off, and I couldn't reattach it."
"I could only help him stop the bleeding and then watch as he was carried away."
"He was only seventeen."
Her voice began to tremble.
Nobunaga stood beside her, saying nothing.
Tsunade turned her head and looked at him.
"What about you? What did you do today?"
Nobunaga was silent for a while.
"Signed thirty-seven death notices."
Tsunade's eyelashes fluttered.
"Whose were they?"
"From Team 7, Team 14, Team 23."
"And—"
He paused, "Might Duy's squad. Three people, and none of them came back."
Tsunade closed her eyes.
The corridor was very quiet, with only the occasional sound of distant footsteps.
Tsunade opened her eyes and looked at Nobunaga.
"How long has it been since you last slept?"
Nobunaga thought for a moment.
"Two days."
Tsunade looked at him.
His eyes were very red, bloodshot, and his complexion was poor.
But he stood very straight, just as before.
"You should go back and sleep."
"I'll go after I've finished checking on you."
Tsunade was taken aback for a moment.
Then she smiled, a very small smile, tinged with exhaustion.
"What is there to see about me?"
Nobunaga looked at her.
"You've gotten thinner. Tanned. The dark circles under your eyes are heavier." He paused, "But you're still very beautiful."
Tsunade's face flushed slightly.
Only for a moment, before it was quickly overshadowed by weariness.
"When did you learn to say such things?"
Nobunaga thought for a moment.
"Jiraiya taught me."
Tsunade rolled her eyes.
"Don't be like him."
The corner of Nobunaga's mouth twitched slightly.
Tsunade looked at him, watching him for a long time.
Then she reached out and took his hand.
Her hand was very cold, very thin, with protruding knuckles.
Nobunaga's hand was very warm, thick, with calluses on the palm.
The two of them just stood there, holding hands, neither saying a word.
After a long time, Tsunade released his hand.
"You should go back. There's a pile of matters waiting for you."
Nobunaga nodded.
"You should get some rest too."
Tsunade did not answer.
She turned and walked toward the operating room.
After taking two steps, she stopped, without looking back.
"Nobunaga."
"Yeah."
"I'm fine."
Nobunaga looked at her.
Her back was very straight, but she had lost a lot of weight.
"I know," he said.
Tsunade continued forward and entered the operating room.
The door closed behind her.
Nobunaga stood there, looking at the closed door.
He thought of the Tsunade from a few years ago.
Standing in the arena, shouting to everyone, "We have to protect it!"
Slapping his hand away and stubbornly saying, "Who wants to be friends with you?"
Under the moonlight on the back mountain, saying, "I want to join too."
Back then, she was still a proud, willful little princess who feared nothing.
Now, she still feels fear, but she doesn't say it.
She simply stands before the operating table, sometimes for sixteen hours at a time, snatching those young lives back from the hands of the Shinigami.
Saving whoever can be saved.
Nobunaga turned and walked toward the Hokage Office.
The corridor was long, and the lights were dim.
He walked around a corner and saw someone leaning against the wall smoking.
Jiraiya.
Jiraiya had also lost weight.
His long white hair had become somewhat withered and yellowed, and the smile on his face had grown rarer.
He leaned against the wall, a cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling up under the light.
Seeing Nobunaga, he stubbed out the cigarette.
"You're back?" Nobunaga asked.
Jiraiya nodded.
"Just returned from the front line. The situation with Kumogakure has stabilized for now."
Nobunaga looked at him.
"Are you injured?"
Jiraiya shook his head.
"No. Orochimaru took a slight injury, nothing serious." He paused, "But he's changed."
Nobunaga did not speak.
Jiraiya looked at the ceiling.
"He used to be gloomy, but he would still say a few words."
"Now he doesn't speak. When he stands on the battlefield, his eyes are empty."
"Do you know that kind of emptiness?"
"It's not fear, it's not anger—it's just nothing."
"When he looks at the enemy, it's like he's looking at dead people."
"And when he looks at us, it's also like he's looking at dead people."
Nobunaga was silent for a while.
"He'll be alright."
Jiraiya looked at him.
"How do you know?"
Nobunaga did not answer.
He remembered Orochimaru's appearance under the moonlight on the back mountain, saying, "I want to know if this world can become different."
That Orochimaru was still there, just buried too deep by the pressure of the war.
Jiraiya didn't ask further.
He patted Nobunaga on the shoulder.
"You should also take care of your health. Don't work yourself to exhaustion."
Nobunaga nodded.
"You too."
Jiraiya gave a small smile.
The smile was brief and faint, but it was indeed a smile.
"I'm fine. I'm one of the Sannin, I won't die."
He left.
Nobunaga continued walking forward.
Arriving at the office door, he saw Mitarashi Shishio leaning against the doorframe, holding an intelligence report.
"Is there movement from Danzo's side?" Nobunaga asked.
Shishio nodded.
"He's been contacting the elders of several clans lately. His movements are very discreet, but they can't be hidden from me."
Nobunaga took the report, glanced at it, and tucked it into his robe.
"Keep watching him."
Shishio looked at him.
"Aren't you worried?"
Nobunaga looked at him.
"Worried about what?"
"Danzo. He'll make his move sooner or later."
Nobunaga was silent for a while.
"I know. But now is not the time. The war isn't over yet, and Konoha cannot fall into chaos."
Shishio looked at him, watching him for a long time.
Then he laughed.
"You've changed."
Nobunaga was taken aback for a moment.
"How have I changed?"
Shishio said, "Before, you only cared about hiding. Now, you only care about shouldering the burden."
"Do you know? When Shinku Yuhi died, I thought you would collapse."
"When the Second Hokage died, I thought you wouldn't be able to hold on for long. You didn't either."
"Now that the war has been going on for three years, you're still standing."
Nobunaga did not speak.
Shishio looked at him.
"You're carrying too much."
Nobunaga was silent for a while.
"There are people carrying even more than I am."
He thought of Tsunade's back as she stood before the operating table.
Of Jiraiya leaning against the wall to smoke.
Of Orochimaru's empty eyes as he stood on the battlefield.
Of Sakumo, who had guarded the Western Front alone for three years.
Of Shinnosuke, who said in every letter he wrote back, "I'm doing quite well here."
Shishio looked at him and nodded.
"Alright. Go get to work. I'll keep an eye on Danzo's side."
He left.
Nobunaga pushed open the door and entered the office.
The office was very quiet.
The desk was piled with documents, and every single one represented a life.
He sat down, picked up his pen, and began to review them.
Outside the window, the sun was setting, dyeing all of Konoha golden.
He remembered that sentence in Shinnosuke's letter—"Fourth Brother, I'm doing quite well here, don't worry!"
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
Shinnosuke wrote that sentence every single time.
He knew Shinnosuke wasn't actually doing quite well.
How could things possibly be fine on the front line?
But Shinnosuke didn't want him to worry.
None of them wanted him to worry.
Tsunade never complained about how exhausting the surgeries were.
Jiraiya never mentioned how dangerous the battlefield was.
Orochimaru never mentioned his nightmares.
Sakumo never asked when he could return
Shishio never told him how many people the Anbu had lost.
They were all carrying the burden.
Shouldering it for him, for Konoha, and for a dawn that no one knows when it will arrive, or if it will perhaps never come at all.
Nobunaga lowered his head and continued reviewing the documents.
Outside the window, the setting sun sank, and the night rose.
The light in the Hokage Office stayed on all night.