30

Chapter 30: in the end i think you're my best friendNotes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The strange thing about Konoha is how little it truly seems to change over time.

The same impossibly tall trees extend up to clear blue skies, the same crispness in the air that comes with the arrival of spring, the same chatter and bustle of a village teeming with life.

It's like no time has passed at all since Tsunade left.

She used to find it comforting—knowing that she'd always have this consistency at the very least. These days, she can't help but feeling slightly resentful of how it's as though nothing has changed in this village even though her entire world was turned upside down within these walls. Truly, the consistency is all she has now.

Dan and Nawaki are gone, Tsunade hasn't spoken to the boys she used to consider her brothers in nearly a year, two wars have razed the shinobi world, and yet, Konoha stands here unchanged.

Like the only one to have changed is Tsunade herself.

Standing in Minato's office—her sensei's old office—is a bit like finding an old skeleton in her closet. A small part of her is enraged at having been dragged back like this. Mostly, though, she just wants to grab Shizune and return to a life on the roads where no one knows her and she doesn't have to stare open wounds in the face.

"It's been a while, Tsunade-san," Minato acknowledges, a polite edge to his smile. "Welcome back."

"Happy to be here, Minato-kun," she drawls in a tone that makes it clear she is anything but. "Or should I say Hokage-sama now?"

Minato inclines his head, unfazed. "I trust your journey was pleasant."

She scoffs. At her side, Shizune shifts in discomfort. "Your brats are a trio of terrors," she states summarily.

"I swear I've heard Sandaime-sama use the exact same description for your old team."

Tsunade shrugs and crosses her arms, shifting her weight. "You sent the Uchiha boy on purpose." She wants to see how Minato will react to getting called out so blatantly.

His smile only widens, a pleased sort of smugness bleeding into it. "I did," he confirms. "I figured his mokuton would be sufficient bait."

Tsunade's eyes narrow. "I hope for your sake that you have a damn good explanation as to how my grandfather's remains were used without Senju permission to recreate his kekkei genkai artificially."

Raising an eyebrow, Minato links his fingers together and regards her calmly. "His grave has not been disturbed, Tsunade-san," he tells her. "I'm not sure how Uchiha Madara got his hands on the Shodaime's DNA, but nothing has interrupted Senju Hashirama's rest." With emphasis, he adds, "I checked."

But she is not quite so easily reassured. "The Hatake brat said that the village has had access to my grandfather's DNA for decades now. How did that happen?"

"The Niidaime had samples of his late brother's genetic material from before his passing," Minato answers without missing a beat. "He personally oversaw artificial replication of that material. I can lend you the notes the Hokage vault has on his work if you'd like."

She nods slowly, still eyeing the younger man across the room. Minato seems to have anticipated her questions and prepared accordingly. It irks her more than she cares to admit. Tsunade has always hated being predictable.

But credit where credit is due—Minato has certainly managed to impress her.

They watch each other for a long moment, at an impasse until Minato sighs and lets his shoulders slump, the expression on his face losing its harsh edges for something more honest.

"I need your help, Tsunade-san," he admits quietly. "Konoha needs a project of this scale and direction to shift focus in a post-war world. It's the best investment we could make right now and you're the only person who could get this programme off the ground with any chance of success."

Pursing her lips, Tsunade says nothing.

Minato presses on, "I've read your research on shinobi psychology, you know. I really do believe it could revolutionise mental healthcare in a profession that so sorely requires that kind of targeted and high-level support. So far, the field has suffered from a lack of sufficient resources, and now that it could finally receive the funding, it might suffer from a lack of sufficient guidance. Please, Tsunade-san—do consider it, at least."

Fingers curling into fists, Tsunade closes her eyes and breathes in slowly. She remembers these arguments from nearly a lifetime ago when she had presented them to Hiruzen in this very office. When he had shaken his head apologetically because they couldn't afford it during wartime and, more importantly, because he didn't consider it an investment worth making.

"Shinobi have to be stronger than their tragedies, Tsunade," he'd said.

It had pissed her off then and it pisses her off even more now. She wonders just what her sensei thinks of her since she has proven that she clearly isn't stronger than her own tragedies.

Part of her wants to refuse just like he had all those years ago. The programme is one that will keep her tied down to the village for the foreseeable future. She will have responsibilities to things bigger than herself and, knowing her, she will not be able to shirk them for selfish desires. The freedom of her current lifestyle will no longer be available to her. Tsunade will have to once again become part of a world she swore to turn her back on.

And yet, she cannot deny how tempting it is to stay and spearhead a campaign that she believed in so strongly for almost her entire career. It is one thing to complain about the world and then sit on her ass, compliant with the way of things. It is another entirely to get a chance to actually be a part of a change that she knows their world needs. The shinobi world is too faulty, too violent, too full of loss to remain as it is. It needs to change and here, now, Tsunade has the chance to actually make a difference in a way that matters.

She can't help it. She hesitates.

Minato sees it too, she knows. His eyes gleam and he leans forward, like a predator having caught scent of his prey. "Tsunade-san, you could ensure that our soldiers get the help they need to overcome the pitfalls of our lifestyle. To ensure that they need not suffer needlessly because there is help available to them. Help that no one is more qualified to give them than you."

'There wouldn't even be any blood involved,' her mind supplies traitorously. 'Shizune can grow up in a stable environment and make friends her age again. You can do something to help the world that has cost you everything so no one else has to hurt the way you do. You can be good again.'

Tsunade closes her eyes and breathes, heart racing in her chest. She kind of wants to sit down right here and cry a little bit. She kind of wants to laugh too.

Instead, she shakes her head and sighs, lips turning up in a wry smile. "I'm sure you have a written proposal for this project of yours," she says.

Minato perks up, nodding enthusiastically as he pulls a pamphlet from the thin stack of papers on his desk and slides it across to her. "I took a lot of inspiration from the archive of your original proposal to the Sandaime," he admits cheerfully.

Catching sight of the title, she snorts. It's the same as hers had been. Minato beams at her, completely unashamed.

"If you put me in charge of this project, I expect full free reign," she tells him, a note of warning in her voice.

"Of course, Tsunade-san. I trust your expertise and value your opinion greatly."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Hokage-sama," she comments, eyebrows rising.

Minato smiles. "I look forward to the wonderful things you will no doubt accomplish, Tsunade-san."

Tentatively, Tsunade smiles back. "Me too."

Fugaku runs a rough hand through his hair and sighs heavily, flipping open the next file of records from the orphanages of the village. The Police Force has never really had hands to spare with how busy the job can get, but they have never been run so thin either. It has been quite a long while since they have been entrusted with a such an important or time-consuming task.

Their biggest issue at the moment is the lack of missing persons reports for children who were taken specifically because they wouldn't be missed by anyone, especially with a war constantly bringing in more mouths to feed for underfunded and understaffed public institutions. The Police Force has had to bring in the wardens and workers of all these orphanages and interview them extensively just to get them to admit which children might have been taken because of their negligence.

For any others who might have fallen through the cracks, they have had no choice except to comb through all the records dating back at least a decade to try and spot the discrepancies in numbers that might corroborate with a missing child. If they can, they try to interview other children who might remember which of their peers went missing, but it's a bit of a long shot, especially with how discrete this entire operation must be as per the Hokage's orders.

Today, Fugaku is finally venturing into the records of exclusively shinobi orphanages. Typically, children of civilian-born shinobi go wherever there is vacancy unless their parent made particularly notable contributions to the village or was martyred under special circumstance. Most clans already have some sort of system to deal with the orphaned children of their members, but there are always exceptions. Sometimes there's just not enough space or caretakers willing to take a child in.

He isn't expecting much out of this line of query, admittedly. So far, it has seemed like the perpetrator has specifically gone after children whose disappearances would easily slip through the cracks. It speaks of someone intelligent, dangerously patient, and with considerable resources to pull of something of this nature and scale.

Clan children going missing is more noticeable. Surely someone would have picked up on something.

But, as he soon discovers with no small amount of horror, Fugaku is wrong.

The timeline marks it as an escalation after seeing consistent success with the abductions. The perpetrator grew confident in their own ability to get away with their crime, and the terrible thing is that they succeeded. There were a few reports filed at first for the missing children, but the files were quickly closed after marking them as runaways or lost causes.

Fugaku shoots to his feet, heart hammering in his throat. He will need to comb through every child disappearance of his own clan to make sure, but he's starting to see a dangerous pattern here and if he's right—

They are dealing with a far more dangerous threat than they were prepare for.

The Hokage will need to be informed.

"And there we go," Kushina murmurs, leaning away and setting her brush down. "All done."

Raijin cranes his neck to study the seal blossoming over his shoulder as best as he can. "Do you think it works?"

"One way to find out," Kushina answers, reaching for the identical design on her own shoulder. She pushes in a tentative amount of chakra and they both hold their breaths as they watch a subtle purple glow bleed into the ink. A heartbeat later, Raijin's seal lights up a pale blue as well, pulsing a pleasant warmth through him before both seals return to their powered down state.

"Nice!" Raijin cheers, lifting his hand for a high-five.

Kushina smacks her hand against his hard enough to leave both their palms bright red in the aftermath. Raijin hisses through his teeth at the sharp sting but she looks unfazed, too busy grinning wide to really notice. "I told you it would work!" she crows, yanking the younger man into a hug and rocking him side-to-side none too gently. "I'm so proud of us!"

"Yeah, I could tell," Raijin wheezes out, half laughing in her hold.

Pulling back, she ruffles his hair for good measure before finally sitting back. "I wonder why they're different colours," she muses out loud. "I wasn't expecting them to light up like that."

Raijin shrugs. "I kind of like it though," he admits. "Adds a bit of character."

Kushina nods in heartfelt agreement. "You'd make a great Uzumaki, Rai-kun. You sure you don't want me to steal you from Minato?"

The smile on Raijin's face is a twisted, wistful thing. "Sorry, Kushina-nee. I'm flattered but I'm pretty committed to the Namikaze thing now." Looking away, he busies himself with stowing away his own sealing supplies. "Besides," he adds, forcefully conversational, "now that you and nii-chan are getting married, it won't matter."

Eyeing him carefully, Kushina hums. "I guess," she allows, tilting her head. "Not that I'll be changing my name. Uzumaki Kushina sounds too badass for me to give it up."

Raijin flashes her a grin. "Good on you for having your priorities straight, nee-chan." His eyes narrow into a thoughtful squint. "Wait, which surname is your kid gonna take?"

"We're still thinking about it," she answers, waving a hand noncommittally. "I mean, Namikaze will tie the baby solidly to Minato and you, and you're both pretty high profile now. But anyone with just a little determination and common sense could also figure out that I'm a jinchuuriki and the only other Uzumaki in this village."

"Which is pretty high profile too," Raijin infers knowingly.

"Exactly." Kushina sighs and shakes her head. "The people of my village still get hunted down, you know. The Uzumaki name comes with a heavy legacy these days; a dangerous one."

Raijin frowns, pursing his lips. "It's not fair."

Jaw clenching, Kushina looks away. "No, it isn't," she agrees, voice whisper soft. "They didn't—We didn't ask for this. To lose our home, our island, and then to be hunted like some sort of prized game, it's—" She cuts herself off and runs a hand through her hair. "Nothing about it is fair. Or right."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not like it's your fault." Kushina smiles wryly, patting him gently on the cheek. "There's more than enough blame to go around for that."

Watching her carefully, he probes, "Yeah?"

She shrugs. "Kirigakure lead the attack. Konoha failed to reach Uzushio on time and then failed to provide any useful aid to the scattered survivors. Most of Uzushio's other allies didn't bother extending their hands out either. The weight of my people's deaths rests solely on the shoulders of the many who failed us." Steel in her eyes, she says, "Uzushio deserved better of her friends."

For a moment, Raijin holds his breath. He breathes out a slow measured breath. "How did you forgive Konoha?"

Kushina's gaze fixes itself to the wooden floorboard of her living room. Softly, she admits, "I didn't. I still can't. Uzushio was my home."

"And Konoha?"

Her lips twitch into a humourless smile. "When I was younger and angrier, I used to think of this place as my prison."

The words ring in the air between them like the aftermath of an explosion. Raijin finds himself having to remember to breathe in. He hadn't known of this side of Kushina's grievances, but he can't quite say he's surprised. Jinchuuriki have never been the most welcome in the villages, and it must have been an even more unpleasant experience to be ripped away from the only home you have ever known to play jailkeeper for a village that doesn't even appreciate your sacrifice.

"Minato was the first true friend I made here," Kushina continues quietly. "I might have gone insane if I didn't have him."

"I'm glad you weren't totally alone, nee-chan," Raijin murmurs, bumping their shoulders together.

She flashes him a quick smile. "Me too."

For a long moment, Raijin watches her carefully in his peripheral vision. Slowly, he asks, "Have you ever spoken to the kyuubi?"

Kushina inhales sharply. "He doesn't really have much to say that isn't cursing at me and humanity at large."

Shrugging, he folds his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them. "I mean, one would think you could kind of relate to each other." When Kushina only looks at him incredulously, Raijin throws his hands up in surrender. "I'm just saying! Like, you guys get taken from your home and then stuck in a situation where you're bound to another being against your will and you pretty much aren't allowed to leave. Shouldn't there be some sympathy?"

"Is a chakra beast even capable of something like sympathy? Something so…humane?"

Raijin inclines his head. "Have you ever tried to find out?"

Kushina frowns. "Raijin, the tailed beasts aren't exactly anything like regular people."

"They aren't weapons either," Raijin refutes, voice soft but firm. He meets Kushina's gaze unflinchingly and repeats, "They aren't weapons. They are beings made to be so close to life that they are literally made of chakra itself. They are old enough to have been considered myths until Uchiha Madara brought the kyuubi to Konoha's doorstep against its will. That much wisdom, experience and life, and the tailed beasts have been reduced to nothing but weapons for shinobi means. Where's the justice in that?"

Lips pressed into a thin line, Kushina says nothing.

Raijin continues, "I don't see why they aren't deserving of sympathy just as much as you and I are."

"The amount of destruction they could cause, Raijin—"

"So could I," he cuts off calmly. "So could you or nii-chan or Jiraiya-san. So could any shinobi with the right tools and enough determination. The chakra beasts seemed to have been minding their business just fine until shinobi imprisoned them for basically no reason. No recorded history of mass destruction." Shrugging, he adds, "Just some food for thought I guess."

Kushina hesitates, visibly unsure of what to say. "The kyuubi hates me, Rai-kun," she settles on at last. "I am its jailor. There is no lost love between us. What you are suggesting is impossible."

"Have you ever asked him for his name?" Raijin asks patiently.

Blinking, Kushina slowly admits, "No, I—I never thought to."

"You should," he tells her. "Can't hurt, yeah? It's the polite thing to do."

"Ask the legendary Kyuubi no Kitsune for its name," Kushina repeats.

"Yup."

Sighing, she relents, "Sure. Alright. I'll ask for his name if it will make you happy, Rai-kun, but don't expect it to lead anywhere. I'm pretty sure I'm just going to come out of this with even more archaic swear words in my vocabulary."

"You never know until you try, Kushina-nee."

"Whatever you say, sweetie."

"He said his name is Kurama."

"Oh, so it did work."

"It took a full weekend of pestering for him to finally tell me. Sorry to pop your bubble, but I'm pretty sure he still hates my guts, kiddo."

"All in good time, nee-chan."

Orochimaru feels the familiar chakra signature enter the izakaya and freezes before he can even think of stopping himself. He knows he has been spotted as well but he doesn't turn around. No, the ball is very firmly not in his court for this one.

Some part of him expects Tsunade to turn and walk right of the door she just walked through. It would be on brand considering her recent tendencies of running away from things she wants to avoid. He thinks he might even prefer it.

But, instead, Tsunade draws near on silent feet, hesitant as though he is a caged animal she does not wish to scare off. Orochimaru holds himself still as a statue and waits, eyes half closed as he funnels his attention into tracking Tsunade's approach across the bar.

"Wasn't expecting to run into you here," she says at last, when she has made it to his table in the very back. She does not sit, and he does not offer her a seat.

Orochimaru sips at his wine, running his tongue across the bittersweetness clinging to his lips. "I did not realise today was the day of your arrival, hime." Inclining his head just so, he allows a sardonic smile to unfurl across his face. "Welcome back."

Tsunade snorts. She does not look amused. "Taken to drinking by yourself, Orochimaru-kun?"

He shrugs. "I am better off this way."

There is a sharpness now in her eyes that wasn't there before. He does not shy away from it. He is not the one who ran.

"You won't ask me to sit?"

He fixes her with a look of consideration. "You are free to do as you see fit, hime. I have never been one to stop you."

The smile on Tsunade's lips is a wry mockery of the one he remembers from their youth. She drops into the chair opposite his and sighs. "No," she murmurs, "I suppose you never have." Eyebrow rising, she says, "I heard you're an advisor now. Congratulations."

"Thank you," he responds, dipping his head. Admittedly, he is pleased about the promotion. It is the sort of validation he had thought he was above wanting, but he cannot deny that it had been nice to receive some acknowledgement and reward for his contributions. Especially after his own sensei had overlooked him so blatantly for Minato and made no secret of who his successor would be.

Of course, the promotion came with the very interesting dismissal from ROOT. Orochimaru is almost certain that his departure from ROOT had always been Namikaze's goal, but he is still unsure if that decision was made with him in mind or with Councilman Shimura.

He would find it amusing if Namikaze gave him a way out of ROOT out of concern for him or some sort of suspicion, but it'd be infinitely more interesting if their Hokage is planning on going after Danzou. There is sure to be one hell of a fallout and Orochimaru hopes to be there to see which way the wind will blow in the aftermath.

"Will you resume your place on the council?" he asks once Tsunade has placed an order for her own bottle of sake.

She hums, glancing at him knowingly. The true purpose of his query is to gage whether she is back for good or not and this is not lost on Tsunade. She always had a good head for politics when she deigned to use it. "Pretty sure I will have to. Shizune is my ward per Dan's will, and that makes two of us under the Senju name, I guess."

Breathing out slowly, Orochimaru nods. "I see," he says and immediately frowns when his voice comes out tighter than he intended.

Once, it would not have mattered if Tsunade happened to see more than he meant to show. Things aren't quite the same anymore.

Her brows furrow as if she senses this as well and Tsunade looks away, busying herself with pouring into her cup instead. There is a dull sense of victory in her subdued shame and grief. Orochimaru doesn't bother savouring it; he knows it will bring him no joy.

"Well, I'm sure you will shake things up as you always do," he remarks, smoothly dispersing the uncertain tension between them. "Not everyone will be happy to have you back, hime."

Eyes narrowing, Tsunade regards him warily. "You know something?"

He stares back, measured. "I always do."

"But you won't say," she infers. "Or you can't. Are you being watched?"

"You think you aren't?" he challenges, amused. "Come now, hime. Surely you know better."

Tsunade scowls and downs the contents of her cup. "The fucking audacity in this village is seriously pissing me off."

Humming, he gently swirls the wine in his glass and watches the lazy ripples across its surface. "You are an important figure whether you like it or not, hime. When you left, it allowed certain forces to move even more freely. Much has changed since then."

"Yeah," Tsunade says, her voice a whisper, "I could tell."

Orochimaru's gaze snaps to her, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the clear implication in her tone. "Stop," he says, and it is a warning.

Something in her face goes soft and he hates it. Hates that she can still look at him this way. Like she has any right. Like she didn't leave without a second thought.

"You look lonely, Orochimaru-kun," Tsunade notes, and part of him wants to flinch or scream or—

He can never tell if she does this out of kindness or cruelty. When she sees hurt and acknowledges it with soft words and soft hands and tries her best to ease away the pain. He hates it and he hates her. For giving him this softness and then taking it away, he hates her.

"I am better off," he says. He almost means it too. Orochimaru knows better than most that the human mind is a fickle thing and memories can so rarely be trusted. Things get forgotten and remembered wrong. He thinks that perhaps their time together as a team was never quite as sweet as he remembers it being.

Truly, nostalgia is a disease.

"You're angry," Tsunade observes. She smiles, the same wry thing that seems to have become all she can muster up anymore. "That almost makes me feel better."

He scoffs and looks away. "Sorry to rip away your source of comfort, hime, but I most decidedly am not angry. Nor am I lonely. I rather prefer being alone."

"No one prefers being alone, Orochimaru."

"I do," he contradicts. "It is easier."

Tsunade stares, eyes like crystalised honey under the low lighting of the bar. "You really think so."

"I have no need for fickle things like emotional ties and human connection," he tells her plainly. "They are a waste of time and offer nothing but a clouding of rational judgement. I will never get stronger if I allowed myself to remain bogged down by such childish notions of love and friendship."

Because she is still one of the strongest people on the continent, Tsunade does not flinch. However, it does nothing to hide the way her honey eyes darken at his declaration or how she purses her lips in clear displeasure.

'Good,' he thinks. 'Let her be displeased.' It isn't his problem anymore. Good riddance.

For a long moment, there is silence between them. Orochimaru knows Tsunade wants him to be the one to break it. She is a coward, after all, and it is easier to let someone else make the difficult decision to extend an olive branch. Not this time. Orochimaru is a snake; he knows how to be patient and lie in wait for his prey.

Finally, Tsunade sighs and shakes her head. "What happened to us?" she wonders aloud, sitting back in her seat heavily, letting her head fall back against the backrest so she can stare up at the ceiling.

Orochimaru snorts and sips at his wine. "Such is the curse of that which is natural—it all must come to an end. We were no different."

"So here we are," she whispers.

"So here we are," he agrees.

"You think it could've been different?" Tsunade asks.

Orochimaru watches her, gaze sharp. "I do."

She lifts her head and narrows her eyes, brows furrowing. "This is about me leaving."

Jaw clenching, he shrugs carelessly and says nothing.

The furrow of her brows deepens as she frowns openly. "Orochimaru, you—" She pauses, breathes in, restarts. "I didn't—I couldn't stay here anymore, you have to understand. Not after Dan and Nawaki."

"I never cared that you left Konohagakure, Tsunade," he admits quietly. "But, perhaps rather foolishly, I had hoped to be an exception."

Tsunade stares, something unreadable on her face. "I couldn't ask you to leave with me."

"You could have," Orochimaru refutes immediately. "You could have, but you didn't because you never thought to." He smiles without any humour and plainly states, "You forgot about me, hime."

Appearing to be at a loss for words with the truth so crassly thrown in her face, all she says is, "Orochimaru."

He shakes his head. "It is only fair for me to do the same, I believe. I have never been one to waste my time, after all."

"Konoha is your home, Orochimaru," Tsunade says softly, eyes downcast. "It was never my place to ask you to leave it."

The words circle his mind for a minute, not quite registering in his brain if only out of the sheer disbelief he feels at what Tsunade has just said.

Orochimaru can't help but gape at her. "Are you truly so stupid, Tsunade, or are you being purposefully obtuse?"

Frowning, she starts to protest. "Hey, now hang on a se—"

"I have not once attached myself to this village in such sentimental capacity," he tells her, unable to keep his hands from curling into fists or his heart from lurching painfully in his chest. "You and Jiraiya are all that kept me here. I would have followed anywhere had you asked. Instead, the both of you left without so much as a second thought, and I remained here, without a home to turn to."

Eyes wide, Tsunade stares at him as though he reached out and slapped her. "You—" She shakes her head. "I didn't kn—"

"Don't say you didn't know, Tsunade," he cuts her off, laughing cynically. "No, the truth is that you forgot. You found something better, and you forgot and then, you left. That's all there is to it."

"It isn't so simple, Orochimaru," she snaps, palms smacking against the table, causing their glasses and bottles to rattle threateningly. Her face is twisted into something that is half angry and half begging to be believed.

But anger is finally within grasp and Orochimaru sinks his teeth into it. "Really? Because I understand it quite simply, Tsunade. I understand that you believe you lost everything and then you walked away. I understand that you are a coward. I understand that if this is what it means to be loved by you, then I would rather not be loved at all."

This time, she does rear back, unable to keep the shock of her face. "Stop," she says, and it is a plea. Her eyes are suspiciously bright where they stare up at his. Something in him cracks a little bit like glass at the sight and he swallows, shoulders falling.

"How could you just leave me here?" he asks, and his voice comes out too raw, too small, too full of pain.

Tsunade closes her eyes and inhales shakily. "I'm sorry," she says, shaking her head. "I did forget you. I'm so sorry. I just—I thought you didn't need me anymore. Jiraiya was always out of the village, and you were busy with your experiments and missions. I thought you wouldn't care if I left, so...I did."

He wants to rage some more and demand how she could ever think that, but he can't quite bring himself to. Orochimaru thinks back to the days preceding Tsunade's departure, thinks of how the three of them have acted around each other over the months and the years, thinks of the ways they have changed and drifted apart, and he hates how he can see why Tsunade might have thought it wouldn't matter much after all this time if she up and left.

They stopped truly speaking to one another a long time before they ever parted ways.

Orochimaru swallows, feeling as though a barb is caught around his heart and lungs. "I did need you," he admits, more honest now than he has dared to be in months. "How could I not?"

Tsunade's face crumples. When she reaches across the table to take his hand in hers, he lets her. "I'll never be sorry enough for leaving you behind then."

His breath catches in his throat. He had sworn he would cut his own hand off before ever allowing himself to for his childhood friends again, but now that Tsunade's hand in his, he doesn't know how he will ever bear to let go again.

He doesn't know how he will ever bear to hold on again either though. Not after all the time he had to spend picking up the pieces of his own heart and staring his weakness in the eye, promising himself he would never allow anyone to put him in such a position ever again.

"We have not been good to each other in a long time, hime," he says, barely keeping his voice from wavering. "I too am sorry for making you think it would not matter to me if you left. It did. It does. I would have said I love you if I thought it would get you to stay."

"Oh, you silly old snake," she says, and her eyes are so overwhelmingly knowing and soft. He can't even remember the last time she looked at him this way. He missed holding her hand and how it always made him feel a little bit safer, a little bit less alone.

Perhaps Tsunade isn't the only one who forgot.

"I missed you too, you know," she tells him. The smile on her face is shaky at best but it is more familiar already. "I still found myself looking for you to tell you things. I kept forgetting that I was trying to forget."

Heavens, but they're all so stupid, Orochimaru could laugh.

They had promised themselves when they were younger that they'd be better. Childish though it might have been, there had been promises of forever and always together and no one gets left behind. Even then, they had known of the darkness that plagues the world they live in and, still, they had sworn that they would be different because they had one another.

Perhaps they were simply stupid then. Or, perhaps, they were better. Brighter. Less defeated.

"How do we forgive ourselves for what we did not become?" he asks, lowering his gaze to their joined hands.

Tsunade's lips twitch up. When she looks at him and quirks a brow, there is mischief in her eyes. "You forgive me, and I forgive you," she says. "Simple."

Orochimaru allows himself the luxury of smiling back. "Truly?" he challenges. "And what if one of us wishes to leave again?"

Pursing her lips, Tsunade firmly declares, "This time, we'll go together."

Nothing is ever quite so easy, he knows. Orochimaru can already feel the jaws of fear closing around his throat, can already predict how he will dissect everything about this encounter and all that has led up to so nothing about it can sneak up on him when he least suspects it. Tsunade's hand may be in his now, but he can't forget her leaving and how debilitatingly alone and betrayed he had felt.

But he also knows that he will be unable to let go. Not when she is here now, earnest and true and full of love as though there was never any time apart there at all. As though there isn't so much unsaid, so much to forgive. As though love truly is so easy, so blameless.

He had thought that he had killed this accursed softness within him by now. Orochimaru knows a weakness when he spots one. He had thought this had all turned to rot by now.

But perhaps rot is also a heart. It is also childhood. It is also love.

He breathes and squeezes Tsunade's hand. "Together."

Notes:

First of all, we hit 3000+ kudos when I wasn't looking and that's kind of insane to me. Thank you all so so much. I literally cannot tell you how grateful I am for your support. We also got to 30 chapters somehow and I don't even remember writing that many. This fic kind of just does its own thing lol.

On an unrelated note, I watched Across the Spider-verse on the day it released and I haven't been able to think of anything since. The hyperfixation is hyperfixating.

Also, I'm trying to be more active on my tumblr so please feel free to come give me a shout about literally anything. Here's the link: silver-studios.tumblr.com