316

Haruto made his way through the bustling corridors of the hospital, intent on piecing together what he'd missed. The place was alive with the muted chaos of healers and patients, the soft beeps of medical devices, and the whispers of those waiting on news. Without his demon mask, he was just another figure—though one who drew a few curious glances. As he walked, his heightened senses allowed him to see beyond what mere eyes could, each pulse and movement forming a vivid map in his mind.

Passing by a middle-aged woman, he noted her heartbeat wasn't quite right—a faint irregularity that caught his attention. He stopped, turning toward her, his bandaged eyes giving nothing away as he addressed her gently. "Miss… miss."

The woman, dressed in the simple uniform of hospital administrative staff, blinked in surprise, her eyes darting toward him in mild confusion. She had short, dark hair streaked with a bit of gray, her features lined with the subtle marks of a life lived in service. "Yes? Can I help you?" she asked, polite but visibly uncertain.

"Tell a medic to check your heart. Listen for a few minutes, and they'll find an irregular beat. Get it looked at," he instructed, his tone direct but calm.

She stood there, flabbergasted, her mouth opening as if to respond, but words failed her. Who was this stranger, with his eyes hidden and his presence so quietly intense, to tell her what to do? Before she could fully process his words, he was already moving on, her puzzled expression fading behind him. Whether she would heed his advice didn't matter to him; he had told her, and that was enough.

As he approached Tsunade's floor, Haruto's senses painted a picture of the layout, revealing her exact position even from the opposite end of the corridor. She was alone, her chakra calm but laced with fatigue. He could "see" the small movements as she leaned back in her chair, pulling a familiar bottle from her desk. She poured sake into a cup, sighing heavily before taking a slow, deliberate sip. It wasn't even midafternoon.

Haruto sighed, pausing to give her a moment to put the bottle away. Once he sensed her setting the cup aside, he knocked on the door.

Inside, Tsunade muttered irritably to herself, annoyed by the interruption. She hadn't expected visitors. "Go away," she called out, fumbling for an excuse, "I'm… I'm in a meeting."

Haruto knocked again, a quiet persistence in his gesture.

"Who is it?" she demanded, her patience waning.

"It's me, Haruto," he replied through the door.

Tsunade froze, her brow furrowing in confusion. The voice was steady, deeper. It sounded like Haruto, yet… different. The last time she'd heard him, he still had a hint of boyishness in his tone, but this voice was layered with a strength and experience that made her second-guess.

"Open the door," she ordered, her curiosity overriding her irritation.

The door opened, and Haruto stepped in, his figure silhouetted against the light from the corridor. Tsunade squinted at him, taking in the subtle changes. He was taller, standing just under six feet, and his physique was solid—honed by rigorous training. The boyish features she remembered were softened but still present, framed by a sharper jawline. Yet, it was the white bandages wrapped over his eyes that immediately drew her attention, secured firmly around his head.

As he sat across from Tsunade, Haruto couldn't help but notice her scrutiny. She leaned forward, fishing for answers, her gaze intense as she asked questions that he sidestepped with practiced ease. Every query about his sudden transformation, the new power that radiated off him—he deflected them all, offering little more than a vague smile or a quick change of subject. It was a delicate dance, one he performed almost effortlessly, frustrating Tsunade with each elusive answer.

Finally, growing impatient, he cut her off, his tone calm but urgent. "I'm here to find out what I missed before I'm deployed."

Tsunade's eyebrows shot up. "What you missed… deployed? What the hell are you talking about?"

With a sigh, he leaned forward, the faintest edge of impatience in his voice. "Look, I don't have much time. Please, just tell me." Inwardly, he noted how soon the Hokage would receive word of his slaughter of the Hidden Mist swordsmen; he was certain they'd be coming for him. Part of him hoped Danzo would hear of it first and send his Root operatives. That would be… satisfying. If it came to it, he half considered going missing-nin.

Sensing his urgency, Tsunade paused, her irritation giving way to curiosity. "What do you mean, 'missed'?"

"Daichi, Shizune, Katsume, Shisui, Kakashi, kushina, Minato—my comrades. How are they?"

Minato has been fighting and the land of cloud and kushina is working on seals full time here in the village to support the war.

She shot him a glare, likely weighing whether to demand more of an explanation, but she relented. "Shisui's in the Anbu," she replied curtly. "I don't know much beyond that."

"Daichi?" he pressed.

"He's been fighting on the Land of Wind's border," she answered, a note of respect in her tone. "He's a special Jonin now. People are calling him the 'Water Dragon of the Leaf.'"

"Katsume… she uses a sword, air affinity?" he asked, seeking confirmation.

Tsunade nodded, her expression darkening slightly. "MIA. I have a report—no body, but I believe it's her." Unable to see the report himself, Haruto asked a few more questions, and his worst suspicions were confirmed. He clenched his fist. Damn it.

She continued, "Shizune's working the back lines, closest to the Leaf. They have her in a central location for the worst medical cases. If you're anywhere near the borders of Stone or Wind, she's at the centrally located outpost."

He gave a slight nod, absorbing the information as Tsunade sighed. "As for Kakashi…" Her voice faltered before she continued, "He left the Anbu and joined a team led by Minato. His teammate, Obito Uchiha, died. Before that, Kakashi, who recorded an eye injury, had it replaced… with Obito's Sharingan."

Haruto's brow furrowed. "So I missed Obito's death." He thought inwardly.

She nodded. "The Uchiha weren't exactly thrilled about Kakashi possessing the Sharingan."

"And Kakashi's other teammate?" he asked.

Tsunade shrugged. "Rin? I don't know. Haven't heard anything. I've been a bit preoccupied running things here."

A long pause hung between them before Tsunade shot him a sharp look. "What the hell's going on? Why don't you have time? And how… did you grow a foot in height?"

Haruto's lips curled into a smirk, sensing the two chakra signatures racing toward the hospital. His Echo Sense and Vibration Awareness painted the approaching figures in his mind's eye—masked, and moving fast. He'd expected them sooner. "Faster than I thought," he muttered, turning back to her.

"What?"

"Any chance you'd be interested in a sword?" he asked casually, dodging her questions once more.

"A sword?" she repeated, blinking. "Are you serious? I want answers, not… weapons."

"Fine," he replied, a flicker of intensity sparking in his tone. "I got stronger and realized I let my comrades down. Specifically Sakumo.

While I trained I infiltrated a Root base and found that Danzo purposely withheld intel about the Seven Swordsmen's movements and sent a genin team as scouts—disposable scouts—to verify the information."

She looked as if she wanted to interrupt, but he continued, "So I went to help my comrade, Guy. Came back with six shiny new swords."

As he rose to his feet, he added, "Looks like I'll be needed elsewhere." Noting both of the signatures were getting closer.

Tsunade's eyes narrowed, her gaze sharp and probing. "You're acting like someone's coming for you…"

Haruto paused at the door, then turned back, his tone steady but with an edge that made her tense. "One last thing," he began, his voice laced with a gravity that cut through the room. "Sakumo's suicide."

Her eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the mention. "What about it?"

"I don't believe it was that simple," he replied, his words measured, but a flicker of something darker underlined his calm. "The rumors, the whispers that pushed him… they were no accident. They were orchestrated, a setup." His gaze fixed on her, even through the bandages she could feel the weight of his request. "I need you to help me find out who was behind it."

A spark of anger lit her expression as her thoughts churned, old grief and the bite of betrayal flashing in her eyes. She clenched her jaw, the implications hitting her hard. But just as she was about to speak, two masked figures entered the room with swift, silent purpose—their faces concealed, one in a boar mask, the other in a sparrow.

Haruto gave her a final, steady look. "Goodbye, Tsunade. And… for what it's worth, I'm sorry I abandoned you as well." With a respectful bow, he added softly, "Please, forgive me."

Tsunade stood there, the words catching in her throat as he left with the masked operatives, a whirlwind of questions and anger swirling in her chest.

Damn him, Tsunade thought, her jaw tight as she watched Haruto leave. He'd walked back into her life with that unreadable look, still half the boy she remembered, but now carrying a gravity she couldn't ignore. He was taller, sure, but it was the way he held himself—the quiet confidence, the calm she wasn't used to seeing in him—that unsettled her.

He'd thrown words at her like stones into a still pond, stirring up things she hadn't wanted to revisit: Sakumo, the rumors, the hint of something orchestrated. Just as quickly, he'd turned to leave as if she'd asked him to bring this shadow of a mystery back with him.

And he'd said it all with that bandage over his eyes, his movements perfectly sure, as if sight were only an accessory he didn't need. Wasn't he supposed to be blind? Yet he was, moving through her office without the slightest hesitation. What happened to him being a recluse?

She should have stopped him. She wanted to demand the whole story, to hear where he'd been and why he now walked around speaking of secrets and battles as if they were ordinary errands. But he'd just left, offering her nothing more than a vague apology and a parting question that only cracked the surface of what she needed to know.