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Regretting every decision that had led her to this moment, Tsunade sifted through the endless reports, mission requests, and treaties that seemed to multiply by the hour. She rubbed her temples, hoping to ease the tension building there, but relief felt impossible. Stopping wasn’t an option—not with how stretched thin the village had become. The abrupt change in leadership and the devastation left by Orochimaru’s attack had thrown the systems her sensei had carefully established into chaos. Until those lines of command were reorganized and new systems implemented, the burden fell squarely on her shoulders.
With a determined set to her jaw, she reached for another mission scroll. This one bore the unmistakable markings of a high-priority request demanding immediate attention. She tried to think who would be best suited to lead it, however, a pang of guilt cut through her as she realized how few of the current active ninja she actually knew. It had been nearly two decades since she’d last lived in Konoha, and in that time, an entirely new generation of shinobi had risen to take the mantle of protecting the village.
Given the mission’s importance, Tsunade delved into the ANBU squad roster. The first file she found was for the operative currently holding the Cat mask. He was a Captain, whose civilian name was listed simply as "Yamato," with no surname or clan affiliation—a common trait among orphans who become ninjas. His impeccable mission record caught her eye, and she almost skipped over the rest of his file completely to just push the mission on the first possibly qualified ninja without a thought. Still, she stopped herself, reading through his skills and weaknesses to ensure he was the best fit. With their limited forces, there was no room for mistakes.
As she read through his file, one detail stood out. She rubbed her eyes, thinking maybe the endless paperwork had her seeing things. She read it over a few times, just to be sure but the words stubbornly stayed the same: "Wood release?" she murmured, her eyes widening in disbelief.
“Shizune!” Tsunade’s sharp call echoed through the office.
Shizune appeared moments later, balancing a precarious stack of paperwork. “Yes, Lady Tsunade?” she asked, barely managing to steady the wobbling pile.
“Bring me the regular personnel file for this ANBU operative,” Tsunade said, thrusting the folder into Shizune’s hands, causing her to startle and nearly topple the stack she had barely managed to set down.
With a quick nod, Shizune scurried off to fulfil the request, leaving Tsunade to assign the urgent mission to another ANBU, unwilling to risk sending someone with unknown capabilities into the field.
Upon Shizune’s return, her expression was apologetic as she handed Tsunade a file so thin it scarcely qualified as a dossier and barely thicker than a genin’s file. Tsunade's frustration showed in the furrow of her brow. "What the hell is this?" she asked incredulously.
"I'm sorry, Lady Tsunade," Shizune replied, her voice tinged with regret. "That's all I could find."
With a resigned sigh, Tsunade accepted the meagre offering and opened the file. Inside, a photograph stared back at her, depicting a dull-eyed boy, barely a young man with long, brown hair cascading over his shoulders. His pallor was a telltale sign of prolonged service in the ANBU and he might have even vaguely resembled her grandfather but only if Konoha had sucked all the life out of him. And the coincidence of his birthday, falling just a day after her late brother's, stung.
Setting aside her personal sentiments, Tsunade delved into the sparse contents of the file. Much of the combat details felt lifted from his ANBU record: impressively skilled in tracking, combat, and espionage, with footnotes regarding his proficiency in Wood Release and potential healing abilities. Yet, beyond these details, the file offered little substance. There was no mention of his Jonin sensei, no records of his parentage, nor any traces of his time in the academy. It was as if he had emerged fully formed from the shadows of the ANBU. In fact, the earliest records traced back to a transfer request from Danzo's now-defunct foundation, a separate branch of ANBU.
She knew better than to request additional files from Danzo; the standard response was that everything had been destroyed when the Foundation dissolved. And yet, every instinct told her this shinobi’s record screamed cover-up.
Leaning back in her chair, Tsunade exhaled in frustration. She needed more information but knew her options were limited. Then her eyes landed on the name of his former ANBU captain: Kakashi Hatake. Reliable, yes but no longer the kid who helpfully volunteered mission reports like he was reading from a shinobi to-do list. Getting information out of him would be like pulling teeth.
Still, it wasn’t like she had any better options. “Shizune, summon Kakashi Hatake,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
As Shizune hurried off, Tsunade buried herself in another stack of paperwork, bracing herself for the wait that would undoubtedly follow.
—
The room glowed in the warm orange of the setting sun, the silence broken only by the rhythmic scratching of Tsunade's quill on parchment and the soft rustle of papers as she tackled the last stack she’d allow herself for the day. Her shoulders ached from the tension of hours spent hunched over her desk, and she was on the verge of calling it quits when a figure scrambled through the window with all the grace of someone who had never considered using a door.
“Kakashi. I’m glad you could join us,” she greeted him dryly, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort to lecture him—again—about the existence of perfectly serviceable entrances.
“Ah, yes, sorry for being late. Got lost on the path of life,” Kakashi replied with his usual unapologetic nonchalance, tugging at the headband obscuring his Sharingan.
Tsunade sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation. “I should have had Shizune summon you as Hound,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.
Kakashi raised an eyebrow, his visible eye gleaming with scepticism. “Pretty sure you can’t do that. I’m retired from ANBU.”
“I’m the Hokage. I can do whatever I want,” she snapped, crossing her arms in a display of petty defiance.
Kakashi chuckled, the sound low and amused. “And what, exactly, does the great Lady Hokage want from me?”
Tsunade leaned forward, her expression hardening. “I need you to tell me about one of your old subordinates.”
Interest sparked in Kakashi’s eye, and the mask over his face shifted, hinting at a mischievous grin. “Oh, I could tell you plenty of stories,” he teased, glancing around the room with mock suspicion as though worried about eavesdroppers in the otherwise empty room that was plastered with hidden privacy seals.
“Stop being cute, Hatake,” Tsunade growled, her patience wearing thin. “What do you know about Yamato?”
Her plan hit a snag when unexpectedly Kakashi's brow legitimately furrowed in confusion. "Who?"
Tsunade scowled and plucked a file from the chaos on her desk, pointing to his name listed as a former captain. “Cat. Your subordinate.”
Recognition dawned in Kakashi’s visible eye, and he let out an “Oh! That’s Tenzo!” His tone carried a surprising hint of fondness as he picked up the file. “Maa, his file’s a little sparse. I probably should’ve helped him formalize his name when he joined my team. Bureaucracy was never really his strong suit. A little too rank and file if you catch my drift.”
He continues to flip back and forth through the civilian file and the ANBU file as is he’s looking for something.
“His records are more than a little sparse,” Tsunade remarked, irritation creeping into her voice. "They’re practically nonexistent. It’s like he appeared out of thin air! I don’t know who he is and why his file says he has my grandfather's abilities?” She sternly tells Kakashi. “I’m hoping as his past superior you can tell me that this is either a mistake or explain what’s happening.”
Kakashi’s casual demeanour shifted as he stopped and lowered the file, his expression wary. “Wait… Lord Third didn’t inform you about Tenzo?”
“No. What you’re holding is everything I know about him,” she replied tersely.
Kakashi flipped through the file again, his visible eye narrowing. “You’re sure this is it?”
“Any records of Danzo’s Foundation were supposedly destroyed when it was disbanded,” Tsunade said, her voice heavy with frustration.
A grim silence fell between them. Kakashi set the file down carefully, his movements unusually deliberate. “If those records are gone, then someone’s been cleaning house,” he murmured. “There should’ve been redacted copies. I made sure of it back when I was his captain. Danzo must’ve buried them during the leadership transition.”
Tsunade’s eyes narrowed. “Bury what?”
Kakashi hesitated, his usual easy demeanour slipping into something more cautious. “Did you ever look into what Orochimaru was working on before he defected?”
“What does this have to do with anything?” she demanded, her patience fraying.
Kakashi shifts uncomfortably, clearly hesitating, but Tsunade has no patience for whatever he’s holding back. Bedside manners are for hospitals.
“Just spit it out, Hatake,” she snapped when his pause stretched too long.
With a resigned sigh, Kakashi stood at attention like he was about to give a mission debriefing. “My kohai was the result of a project to recreate the wood release ability orchestrated by your old teammate.” Kakashi reports, “He utilised kidnapped children as subjects and injected them with the first Hokage’s DNA. It was the last thing he worked on before he became a missing-nin.”
Tsunade's mind raced as she absorbed the information. "So, Yamato—Tenzo—he's a product of Orochimaru's experiments?" Her fists clenched.
Kakashi nodded. “Of course, the project was shut down when Orochimaru went rogue, but the damage was done. When Orochimaru’s lab was discovered, no one realized there were any surviving subjects. So Danzo saw fit to hide him in his foundation until Tenzo’s existence was discovered and the foundation was dismantled.”
Tsunade’s fists clenched. “And Sarutobi-sensei knew this? He kept it from me?” she muttered, half to herself. Her gaze dropped to the open file on her desk, the words “transfer request from Foundation” glaring back at her.
Kakashi’s voice was quieter now, almost apologetic. “I assumed you were aware. He’s… a good shinobi, Lady Hokage. And a good person. But his past is complicated.”
Tsunade sank her head into her hands, her voice heavy with frustration and sorrow. “A good shinobi? They’re all acting like his wood release is just a useful tool and not one of the last remaining pieces of my family's legacy,” she muttered.
She had never liked Danzo, but the fact that her traitorous teammate had also never mentioned what he did, nor had her sensei ever thought to tell her about this kid, was a bitter pill to swallow. Probably because he knew she wouldn’t have just sat by.
“You’re dismissed, Kakashi.” She ordered tersely.
He lingered at the window, and she was ready to snap at him that he had been dismissed when he offered. “For what it’s worth, Lady Hokage, he never asked for this. Whatever you decide, just… remember that.”
And with a flicker, he was gone.
Tsunade stared at the file on her desk. Her frustration boiled over, and in a moment of unchecked emotion, she hurled it against the wall. The papers scattered, fluttering to the floor like dead leaves.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on her. She leaned back in her chair and muttered, “Shizune! I need a drink.”
—
No amount of drinking would solve her problems, no matter how much she wished it could. However, it did give her some time to cool off, to resist the urge to storm into the council room and take out her anger on a specific, deserving council member.
Unfortunately, the next day, Tsunade found herself back in the office, back to sifting through the myriad of documents that demanded her attention. She’s able to pass some of the less important ones off on Shizune and there are even updates that a new administration team is being put together to help lighten the load.
She sighs and pulls the next report. A request for Ninja to assist in the reconstruction efforts was among the piles of paperwork. Her first response was to shove it into the ‘I don’t care, just any unattended genin will do’ pile when a memory surfaced. She recalled how, when she was younger, her grandfather would use his Wood Release to assist in construction efforts. It had significantly saved money, time, and resources.
Her eyes fell on Tenzo’s file, still lying on her desk from the previous night. Here was a ninja with the same rare and powerful ability. She had been meaning to meet with this shinobi at some point, and a simple, in-village mission could be a good opportunity to get a better understanding of him.
Tsunade handed the files to Shizune, “Call him to my office for a mission briefing.”
—
A sharp knock echoed through the room.
“Enter,” Tsunade called out without looking up from another report. The door creaked open, and a figure stepped in, ANBU mask in hand.
Tenzo knelt, the movement precise and practised. Tsunade rolled her eyes. "I didn’t call for ANBU. Stand at attention," she said flatly.
Tenzo hesitated, uncertain. His records suggested this was a rare occurrence—perhaps even a first. Still, he rose to his feet and clipped the mask to his belt, awaiting her instructions.
"So, Yamato? Or do you prefer Tenzo?" Tsunade inquired, her gaze steady.
He looked momentarily surprised before his expression settled into a carefully neutral mask. "Either is fine," he replied dutifully.
"I didn’t ask which was ‘fine’," she snapped, “I asked what do I call you?” she should have known he’d be a bit of a door-mat with how he was fine being used as a tool.
"Tenzo," he admitted after a pause. “I don’t dislike ‘Yamato,’ but mostly just the council and Lord Third ever called me that."
"Very well, Tenzo," Tsunade began, setting the mission scroll to one side, trying for casual yet probing. “I have called you here for a mission but I also have some questions if you don’t mind.”
“I am at your service, Lady Tsunade.”
“Good.” she couldn’t help teasing, “How come I’m only now hearing about someone who has my grandfather’s wood release? I didn’t think there were any other Senju left to acquire it naturally.”
Tenzo’s demeanour remained composed, but Tsunade detected a flicker of discomfort cross his face, like it just dawned on him that she was the granddaughter of the First Hokage. She smirks as she knows exactly how he got the ability now but she wants to hear it from the horse's mouth so she could gather enough evidence to get something to stick to Danzo to oust him from the council.
“I can’t say.” He says, it would sound defiant if not for the tone sounding questioning and unsure itself.
Tsunade leaned forward, her eyes narrowing slightly at Tenzo's response. "You can't say?" Tsunade repeated, voicing her disbelief.
Tenzo hesitated, his gaze shifting briefly before meeting hers again. "I... I am bound by orders not to disclose certain details," he admitted, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of nerves.
Before Tsunade could press further, admit that Kakashi already told her about his origins and insist that since she is Hokage it should trump all requests for secrecy, Tenzo stuck out his tongue, revealing a curse seal etched onto its surface. Shock momentarily froze Tsunade as she registered the mark, a crude but effective means of enforcement.
"Shit, you literally can’t say," she muttered under her breath, her disbelief taking on a different tone.
It looked like Danzo’s handprints were all over this—purging records, enforcing silence through brute means. Whatever plans she’d had to gather evidence against him would have to be adjusted.
Gathering herself, she composed her expression and carefully asked, “May I have a closer look at that?”
Tenzo gave a small nod, like it never really crossed his mind to say no but she still quickly wiped her hands down with medical alcohol before examining the seal.
“I actually had your prior superior officer answer some of my questions about you, in case it had been a clerical error,” she admitted quietly, maintaining her focus on the seal. Tenzo attempted to respond, but with her fingers still in his mouth, he tentatively signed ‘Hound. Report. Question.’
“Yes, Kakashi told me. I wanted to hear your side of the story as well, but I suppose this” —she gestured to the seal— “puts a damper on that plan.”
The seal was crude, but reminiscent of Orochimaru's work, despite lacking the finesse. Likely done by an old ally of his copying his work. It added credence to suspicions about Danzo's involvement but she couldn’t use it as solid evidence. The thought only deepened her scowl. It wasn’t just about Tenzo now—it was about her family’s legacy being twisted into a tool for political games.
She withdrew her fingers, cleaning them off with a tissue before passing him a mission scroll. “Let’s change the subject. Do you enjoy construction work?”
Tenzo blinked at the abrupt shift, clearly caught off guard. “Uh, yes?” he replied, uncertain but polite.
“Good.” Tsunade nodded approvingly. “You’re quite good at it.” She handed him another scroll with blueprints for a rebuilding project. He flushed faintly at the compliment, clearly unused to praise.
Before releasing her hold on the papers, she met his gaze with a saccharine smile. “Since you do essentially have my family’s kekkei genkai, I’ll be keeping a close eye on you. I look forward to working together closely.”
“You’ve already stuck your fingers in my mouth. I’m not sure it could get any closer.” Tenzo muttered to himself. His eyes widened a second later, and he began stammering apologies.
Tsunade threw her head back and laughed, a loud, genuine sound that echoed through the room. “Relax, brat. I’m a medic-nin. There are worse places I could’ve put my fingers.”
Her teasing only deepened his mortification, but she dismissed him.
As the door closed behind him, Tsunade turned to Shizune, handing her the tissue she’d used. “Take this to the Medical Division,” she instructed. “Tell them to store it until we have time to sequence the DNA.”
Shizune nodded her expression a mix of curiosity and wariness. Tsunade leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled under her chin as she mulled over her next move. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.
—
Since assigning Tenzo to oversee the bulk of Konoha’s reconstruction missions, Tsunade had been quietly marvelling at the pace and precision of the work. Entire sections of the village that should have taken months to rebuild were springing back to life in weeks. Resources stretched further than projected, budgets were undercut, and the coordination had been seamless. For once, a plan had gone better than anticipated.
Half the destroyed village now stood restored, bustling with activity and hope. This efficiency allowed her to shift more resources toward shinobi out on external missions, ensuring the village regained its financial and political stability in record time. Yet, as much as she appreciated the success, Tsunade couldn't ignore how much of it stemmed from one man and his unique abilities.
During a meeting with the council, their mood had been uncharacteristically congratulatory. They praised her leadership and foresight, extolling how well she used “the tools of the village” to foster its prosperity. Tsunade recognized their flattery for what it was—a prelude to veiled demands.
Sure enough, the conversation shifted, and the elders began suggesting ways to "maximize efficiency." Their proposals turned her stomach: treating shinobi as little more than resources, tools for war or politics. She forced herself to breathe evenly, her fists clenching beneath the table as she reminded them—politely but firmly—that the citizens of Konoha, shinobi included, were people, not weapons. Their value couldn’t be reduced to how effectively they served the village’s interests. She wasn’t obligated to follow the council’s suggestions, especially when they concerned those without the protection of clan privileges.
The meeting left her drained, but her spirits lifted later that afternoon when Shizune entered her office carrying a file.
“DNA results,” Shizune announced, placing the folder on Tsunade’s desk. “With how quickly everything is returning to normal, the analysis came through faster than expected.”
Tsunade opened the file with measured movements, skimming the results. Her suspicions were confirmed: Tenzo’s DNA showed signs of genetic alteration, likely a deliberate grafting process to implant Hashirama’s cells. But as far as the test was concerned, enough of Hashirama’s DNA lingered in Tenzo that biologically, he qualified as Senju—a watered-down version, much like herself, but the distinction hardly mattered anymore. Blood purity politics held no sway in a clan that no longer existed to debate it.
The Senju were a warrior clan, and she was the last of her line. With each war that had ravaged the village, the number of Senju dwindled as they all took up arms. And now, they were gone. The once-proud clan had dwindled to one: Tsunade herself. She had borne the weight of their legacy alone, an unspoken burden she never asked for but couldn’t abandon.
Her thoughts strayed to Dan, to the future they’d once dreamed of. After his death, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to consider children—not for love, not even for duty. The Senju name, its lands and wealth, would vanish with her. Shizune was like a daughter to her, but she wasn’t Senju. The clan’s legacy would be absorbed by the village upon Tsunade’s death, leaving nothing but memories and history books.
Glancing at the DNA report, Tsunade realized something unexpected. Tenzo could inherit. If she claimed his legitimacy, he could carry on the Senju name. It wouldn’t be traditional, but there was no one left to challenge her decision—or object to it.
Her lips quirked in a faint smile. Naruto had been making her soft. He had taken to calling her Granny, and although she knew that the significance of their shared Uzumaki heritage likely eluded him, she had grown fond of the title. Looking at Tenzo’s DNA test, a similar protectiveness was growing. She kind of missed having a family.
Tenzo, she realized, didn’t even know what he was. He seemed to eat, sleep, and breathe ANBU, dedicating himself to the village with single-minded resolve. He probably didn’t recognize it, but that too was very Senju behaviour. Tsunade knew she couldn't make him leave ANBU, but she could offer him something more—some of the actual perks associated with the responsibilities he’d been saddled with as the sole wood release user in the village. A title of Tenzo Senju and all the power it could grant him.
—
Tsunade leaned back in her chair as Shizune ushered Tenzo into her office, his posture as rigid as ever. She noticed the faint lines of tension around his mouth and the way his eyes darted to the stack of papers on her desk. Clearly, he thought he was in trouble.
“Tenzo,” she began, her tone deliberately calm. “I have something important to discuss with you.”
Before she could get another word in, Tenzo blurted out, “Lady Tsunade, I know those designs weren’t in the original proposals, but I swear they were minor changes! I was reading this book on architecture, and I thought it could improve heat dissipation in the summer and retention in the winter. I informed the head builder, so I thought it was fine, but if I overstepped, I—”
“Tenzo.”
Her steady voice cut through his nervous rambling. He froze, visibly mortified.
“It’s not about that,” Tsunade said, a flicker of amusement tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Though, for the record, I appreciate your initiative. The builders have already sent word about how effective your changes have been.”
His shoulders sagged slightly in relief, though his cheeks turned a shade darker. “Thank you, Lady Tsunade,” he mumbled. “Please, carry on.”
Tsunade’s expression softened, but her tone turned serious. “This is a different matter entirely. I want you to listen carefully, and I need you to hear me out completely before you respond. Deal?”
The shift in her demeanour made Tenzo straighten again. “Yes, Lady Tsunade.”
She nodded, steeling herself. “You’re aware I’m the last of the Senju Clan,” she began, watching as Tenzo’s brow furrowed slightly. “And you’re also aware that you possess my grandfather’s kekkei genkai—wood release.”
He nodded hesitantly, clearly unsure of where she was heading.
“I’ve been watching your contributions to the village,” Tsunade continued. “Your abilities, your dedication—they’re extraordinary. But while you wield this power, you get none of the recognition or protections that should come with it.” Her gaze bore into his, unflinching. “As the sole heir of the Senju, I have the authority to offer you legitimacy. If you’re willing, I can officially make you part of the clan.”
Tenzo’s eyes widened. “But... I’m not a Senju,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You can’t mean that. If you knew my past—”
“I know enough,” Tsunade interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. “And frankly, it doesn’t matter. No one consulted me when they decided to use my grandfather’s cells to give you those abilities. They made decisions about you for the ‘good of the village,’ without giving either of us a say. But this is my family, Tenzo. My grandfather’s legacy. That makes this my decision, not theirs.”
He stared at her, stunned into silence.
“I think you’re Senju enough,” Tsunade said softly. “Now, what do you think? This is also your future so you should also get a say.”
Tenzo's expression softened to cautious contemplation as he processed Tsunade's words. “If I accept,” he said slowly, “can I stay in ANBU?”
She nearly rolls her eyes at the question. You can take the Senju out of the War but you can’t take the War out of the Senju. “You can stay in ANBU. You becoming a Senju will just help reassure me that my grandfather's legacy is being properly honoured. How you use that honour is up to you.” she reassures.
She slid a stack of neatly prepared adoption papers across the desk toward him. Tenzo eyed them warily, his brow furrowed in concentration as he read through them. Tsunade could see the weight of the decision settling on his shoulders, and she respected his need to deliberate.
After what felt like an eternity, Tenzo finally looked up, his expression a mix of disbelief and alarm. “This... would make you my mother?” he squeaked, his voice cracking slightly.
Tsunade raised an eyebrow, unable to resist a dry quip. “As much as people joke, Senju don’t grow on trees.” She let the humour hang for a moment, but when his concern didn’t fade, she sighed softly, her tone shifting to something gentler.
“Listen,” she began, leaning forward slightly. “You’re 21 now, and around 21 years ago, there weren’t many Senju left. After the Third Shinobi War, the clan was all but gone. I’m also the last one with a direct link to Hashirama.”
Her voice softened further as she continued, “I’m not going to make you sign that immediately. Suddenly becoming the clan heir is a lot. But this gives you a history. The reclusive son of the Princess who ran away. I’ve heard enough rumours of me running off to do Sage knows what, may as well use some of those rumours for my benefit.” she gives him a wry smile.
“I need to think about this.” Tenzo announces. He looks a little pale as he stiffly excuses himself, clutching the paperwork like he’s afraid it will fly off.
—
As Tenzo closed the door behind him, he exhaled a sigh of relief, grateful for the sanctuary his private quarters provided. Being a captain in ANBU came with its privileges, and tonight, having a space to sort through his thoughts without prying eyes felt like the greatest of them all.
Sinking onto his bed, Tenzo felt a wave of uncertainty wash over him as he looked at the paperwork Tsunade had given him. What should he do? He had told her yes, but she also said he could change his mind. In the past, whenever something significant like this happened in his life, his squad members would poke their noses in to offer their insights, whether he wanted them or not. But as a captain, the dynamic had shifted. His old squad was long gone, and his new squad respected him too much to intrude on his personal struggles.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to think it through logically. Danzo and the Third Hokage had said he had to be in ANBU because no one could know he could use wood release—only the First Hokage had that ability. He liked being in ANBU; it had never been a problem. It was structured, and purposeful. He wasn’t sure what else he would do if he left.
But Tsunade’s proposal changed things. If he accepted, he could use his wood release openly, no longer confined to secrecy. Yet... what would that truly change for him? He had no plans to leave ANBU, so would it even matter?
She had said it would make him safer. Safer from what? The name "Senju" meant little in ANBU’s shadowed ranks. Clans and bloodlines carried no weight there. But... maybe she meant safer from Danzo? He frowned at the thought. Clan heirs rarely ended up in the Foundation. Even so, Tenzo doubted Danzo had any use for him now, not after his defection.
Still, there was something about Tsunade’s demeanour that made him think he was missing something. She had wanted him to say yes. That much was clear. But why? Was it purely about her grandfather's legacy, or was there something more she hadn’t shared?
His head ached from the mental tug-of-war. It had been a long day, and his thoughts felt sluggish, tangled in exhaustion.
Perhaps he didn’t have to decide tonight. Maybe... he could ask someone. Maybe he will check the memorial stone for Kakashi Senpai in the morning.
—
As Tenzo stepped out at dawn, a familiar figure haunted the memorial stone. He found himself standing beside Kakashi-senpai, politely offering prayers, despite not personally knowing anyone on the stone. Kakashi had pointed out his loved ones once, but only ever the one time, and Tenzo tried to find them as he gave his senpai a little bit of time to acknowledge him. The moments dragged on, and he realized he might have to be rude.
“Senpai?” he ventured, his voice barely above a whisper.
He made sure to stand on Kakashi’s good side so the man barely had to turn his head to regard Tenzo with a grunt—acknowledgement, but not quite encouragement.
“I need advice on something important,” Tenzo said, hesitating. “But if now isn’t a good time, I could talk to Yugao—”
Kakashi’s visible eye narrowed, and his lips curled into a faux-offended smirk. “Yugao? What, I’m not good enough for you?”
Tenzo regretted his choice immediately. Kakashi’s advice always came with a side of mockery before he got serious. Still, as much as Tenzo liked Yugao, Kakashi was likely the better choice. He had firsthand experience with clan politics and might offer insight beyond surface-level sympathy.
Kakashi seemed to sober up when he didn’t rise to his bait. Gently nudging his shoulder and offering a careful “What’s up?”
Leaning into the shoulder, looking for support, he wasn’t really sure where to start and somehow he landed on, “What’s it like to be a clan heir?”
Kakashi gives him an incredulous look. “I was the heir to a dead clan Tenzo. I get invited to meetings I don’t go to and am told to have kids I don’t want, then one day I will die and everything that I didn’t personally stick my name on and bequeath to someone else will get absorbed by the village.”
He can kind of tell that the tone Kakashi used was the one that meant ‘That was a stupid question and I’m giving a mean answer to deflect because it hit a little too close to something’ but the answer was actually surprisingly helpful.
Tenzo frowned, processing the response. “If you could name someone as your heir, would that fix those problems?”
Kakashi shrugged, his voice quieter. “Some, yeah. But there’s the whole blood purity thing, so… not happening anytime soon.”
Their conversation lapsed into silence, but Kakashi's next question broke the quiet. “I know I shouldn’t pry, but... is this about your squad? You’re not the type to lose sleep over stuff outside ‘the force.’”
“Uh, no. Not my squad. Me.” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Looking like something isn’t computing, Kakashi focuses his entire attention on Tenzo. “You. Are having inheritance drama?”
Nodding hesitantly at the question. “Lady Tsunade asked to adopt me and I’m trying to figure out why. She mentioned that me having her grandfather’s abilities means I should have the protection of the clan, but I don’t know what that means.” He admits “Maybe she’s just trying to trying to push inheritance onto someone else so she doesn’t have as many problems?”
Kakashi’s eye widened—a rare show of genuine surprise. He stared at Tenzo for a long moment, his gaze distant as if piecing together a puzzle. Finally, he spoke, his tone measured. “No, I don’t think she’s just foisting it off onto you. This… is kind of like your transfer to ANBU and promotion to Captain at the same time.”
Tenzo regarded him with a puzzled expression, unsure if Kakashi was teasing him. “Those are two very different events, Senpai,” he pointed out.
“Yes, they are,” Kakashi acknowledged. “But the comparison still holds some truth. You'll gain access to many benefits and protections you didn’t even know about, similar to when you left the foundation. However, you'll also have to navigate new responsibilities and privileges, much like when you became a Captain.”
Tenzo absorbed Kakashi's words, feeling a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach. “Will you help me like before?” he asked tentatively.
With a resigned sigh, Kakashi relented. “I suppose I have to, since I am a good senpai.”
—
Tenzo had requested a meeting with Lady Tsunade. As he entered her office, he offered a stiff bow before presenting her with the signed adoption papers. Tsunade glanced over them quickly, noting that he had filled in the given name as 'Tenzo,' making it now official. No longer the prior name that she was fairly certain had just been a default name slapped on his file so there was just a name to fill the requirement and he’d just shrugged and gone along with it.
She retrieved her sensei’s approval stamp and backdated the dates to a time when he was still alive. Was it forgery? Probably. But she couldn't think of a better way for him to make up for this situation her sensei had helped contribute to. Besides, a Hokage can’t actually approve their own requests which means she should technically be going to the council to get this approved but involving the council would only complicate matters further, and she doubted they would approve of her decision.
With a resigned sigh, Tsunade handed the now completed paperwork to Shizune, who was standing nearby ready to file it away, her face a picture of calm professionalism. That calm cracked the moment the papers were in her hands.
“Congratulations, my lady, It’s a boy!” her apprentice cheered teasingly.
Tsunade rolled her eyes at the comment, tamping down on the flicker of warmth that comment provided, instead focusing on the bright colour Tenzo turned at the implication.
Not one to let Shizune have the last word, Tsunade announced with mock seriousness, “Oh no, I’ve just remembered—I have a family emergency. I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
Shizune spluttered in protest, her professionalism crumbling. “You can’t just leave! There’s still so much work—”
But Tsunade had already pushed back her chair and gestured for Tenzo to follow. “Come on, don’t dawdle,” she said as she strode toward the door. Over her shoulder, she added, “You’re the family emergency.”
Tenzo blinked, caught between confusion and embarrassment, but he hurried after her. As they walked out together, Tsunade’s stride was firm, her presence commanding.
—
“Are you sure we should have just left like that?” Tenzo asked, glancing anxiously back at the Hokage Tower. Even from this distance, he could faintly hear Shizune’s voice rising in what sounded like a mix of frustration and exasperation.
Tsunade dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand. “The village has been running much smoother lately. It’s fine to let her sweat a bit. Besides,” she added, a sly grin tugging at her lips, “I want to monopolize you for a little while.”
As she reached into her shirt, fishing around for something, Tenzo averted his gaze, suddenly feeling like he was seeing something he shouldn’t. His embarrassment was cut short when she exclaimed, “Aha!” Turning back, he saw her triumphantly holding a scroll. “I even have paperwork to turn this into a mission. See? I’m working!”
Tsunade led Tenzo through the bustling streets of the village, her purposeful strides with someone in ANBU uniform trailing behind her, discouraging anyone from approaching her with questions or requests. Soon, they reached the village outskirts, where a hidden compound lay nestled among overgrown trees, its presence obscured by the lush foliage.
“These are the Senju lands,” Tsunade announced as they stepped into the compound. Tenzo followed her, his gaze sweeping over the dilapidated buildings. The sight reminded him of the Uchiha compound after the massacre—empty, haunted, and neglected. The once-grand structures bore the marks of decay, their former glory now hidden beneath years of abandonment.
They stopped in front of the largest house, an impressive wooden structure whose craftsmanship hinted at its former splendour. “This was my home,” Tsunade said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “I’m staying in the Hokage residence since it isn’t currently in a livable state. I don’t expect you to live with me—you’re not a child—but I will make sure a room is prepared for you, like the one I intend to keep for Shizune.”
“That’s not necessary. As a captain, I have my own quarters in the ANBU barracks,” Tenzo insists.
Tsunade fixed him with a firm look. “You do know those aren’t supposed to be primary residences, right?”
He does know logically that most ANBU only used the barracks for sleeping after late missions or during long-term mission stints. The Captains were the only ones to get their own rooms mostly to store their team's classified mission information before it could be processed. But he’d just never felt it was worth finding somewhere else as ANBU seemed to have everything he needed. He shrank slightly under her gaze.
With a sigh, Tsunade gestured to the rest of the compound, where other buildings stood in varying states of disrepair. “You’re free to choose any other house on Senju grounds to move into or renovate as you like. It’s not as if I’m using them,” she said with a dismissive wave before heading into the main house.
Inside, the house was as neglected as the rest of the compound. Tsunade didn’t bother removing her shoes as she walked through the creaking halls, the air damp with a faint smell of rot.
“It’s a shame such nice woodwork has fallen into this state,” Tenzo remarked, disappointed by the decay.
Tsunade shrugged. “Kind of neglected to have someone come by to tidy up when I wanted nothing to do with the village,” she replied dryly.
Tenzo nearly huffed at her nonchalance but held his tongue. As they ventured deeper, the wood began to change. It looked healthier, more vibrant, as though it were responding to their presence. He paused, brushing his fingers over a section of it. The wood seemed alive—if he pushed chakra into it, he felt he could purge the rot and revitalize it.
Before he could act on the thought, Tsunade’s voice called out, sharp and cautionary. “I wouldn’t touch anything until you’ve read the mission scroll.”
He quickly steps away and draws his chakra closer into his core. Just to be safe. Opening the scroll, he read the details: B-rank mission. Repair the main Senju clan house. Wood release user required. Active medic required.
“Why would I need an active medic to repair a house?” he asked, uncertain.
Tsunade smirked. “The entire structure is made of pure Hashirama wood. You’re the only Wood Release user alive, but I don’t know how it’ll react to being tampered with. Let’s just say it didn’t appreciate the repairmen we brought in after my grandfather passed. It’s best to have someone who can piece you back together if things go sideways. Plus,” she added with a mischievous grin, “the house likes me.”
—
Hours later, Tsunade stood back, surveying the house with an approving smile. “Good work! I’m surprised you didn’t ask for a break during all of that.”
Tenzo blinked, caught off guard. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him, his focus entirely consumed by the task.
Revitalizing the wood had been deceptively easy, almost as though it wanted to cooperate, but repairing the actual house for human habitability was another matter. The house resisted him at every turn. The wood splintered, shifted, and then pulled his chakra in unpredictable ways. Without a word Tsunade ran a hand over him, healing his cuts and syphoning chakra back into him to he could continue.
His fixes, though functional, lacked the smooth elegance of the original design, resulting in blockier, more utilitarian repairs but it was the best he could do without the house trying to outright maim him.
Despite this, Tsunade seemed genuinely impressed. “This is the most alive this house has felt since I was a child,” she said, her awe evident.
“Thank you, Lady Tsunade,” he replied, bowing slightly at the unexpected praise.
She arched an eyebrow at him, her expression turning sly. “So formal, especially to your own mother.”
His stomach twisted at the word, and he shifted uncomfortably. Before he could respond, Tsunade ruffled his hair, ignoring his protests.
“I’m kidding. But seriously, maybe drop the ‘Lady.’ I don’t expect you to call me ‘Mother,’ but if you keep up the formalities, you’re going to get some raised eyebrows.”
—
Tsunade leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled as she watched Tenzo shuffle awkwardly in front of her desk. Gone was his usual composed ANBU demeanour, replaced with the unease of someone who knew they were about to be told off.
“You’re still living in the ANBU barracks, aren’t you?” Tsunade asked although it was less of a question and more of a statement.
“Yes, Lady Tsunade,” Tenzo replied, his tone stiff. “It’s efficient, and I—”
“Efficient,” Tsunade cut him off, rolling her eyes. “And completely inappropriate. The barracks are for temporary use, not a permanent home. You’re not a rookie anymore, Tenzo.”
Tenzo opened his mouth to argue but shut it again when she thrust a scroll toward him. He took it hesitantly, scanning the details. His brows furrowed. “This is... an official mission?”
“Exactly.” Tsunade smirked “Your assignment is to renovate one of the smaller houses on the Senju compound and make it your home. The construction corps will assist with anything beyond your Wood Release capabilities. No excuses.”
“That seems like... an overreach of authority,” Tenzo ventured cautiously.
She waved off his concern. “You need a proper place to live. And, technically, I can assign missions at my discretion.”
Tenzo hesitated, clearly uncomfortable, but he nodded. “Understood, Lady Tsunade.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Drop the ‘Lady.’ If you keep that up, people are going to think I’m some kind of tyrant.”
Tenzo hesitated, but Tsunade pressed on, her tone turning sharper. “And another thing. Your personal files are a disaster. Your ANBU record is the most complete, and that’s classified. I’m having your standard shinobi file updated to reflect an actual rank, skills, and a proper photo. You’ll be listed as a chunin for now—less paperwork, and it avoids nepotism complaints. Jonin will come later when you have an actual public mission record and people have actually seen you in action.”
Tenzo nodded again, though the faint grimace on his face betrayed his reluctance.
—
Tenzo found the most decrepit house on the Senju grounds, barely more than a frame, and began clearing it out. Building his new home proved unexpectedly daunting—not because of the work itself, but because he had no idea what he wanted.
The only frames of reference he had were the sparse ANBU barracks and Kakashi-senpai’s just-as-bare apartment when his old captain had wrangled him into helping him move.
In the end, practicality won out. He opted for a simple, utilitarian design—something similar to the apartment buildings he’d been constructing for the village as part of post-war rebuilding efforts. It wasn’t inspired, but it would suffice.
When the house was finally complete, Tenzo made his way to the mission desk to report its completion and have his updated personnel photos taken.
After glancing over his newly updated file, the ninja assisting him offered a small smile. “Congratulations on the promotion.”
Tenzo hesitated, unsure whether to correct the misunderstanding, but ultimately decided against it. Instead, he murmured a polite thanks. He barely had time to process the exchange before the attendant handed him a freshly pressed chunin uniform.
“Put this on,” they said, gesturing to a nearby changing room.
Reluctantly, he complied. The uniform felt strange—lighter, thinner than his usual ANBU gear, likely because chunin weren’t expected to face combat as frequently. Once dressed, he stood stiffly against a wall while the camera flashed a few times, marking the end of his task.
Emerging onto the busy street, he heard a familiar voice calling out.
“Go on, rest up, kiddo. Big day tomorrow—you’ll be Tsunade’s headache soon enough.”
Tenzo turned to see Kakashi dismissing a visibly exhausted genin, who groaned loudly in protest.
Kakashi let out a mock sniffle. “They grow up so fast...” he said with theatrical melancholy before turning—and spotting Tenzo. His visible eye crinkled in recognition, his expression shifting into something amused.
“Well, don’t you look almost civilian?” Kakashi teased, his tone light but pointed.
Tenzo shifted awkwardly. “It’s, uh, new,” he mumbled.
Kakashi hummed, tilting his head as he fell into step beside him. “It looks new. So, you’re out of the force too?”
“No,” Tenzo replied quickly. “I’ve requested to stay for now, but Lad—uh—Tsunade wants me to build up my standard shinobi record as well.”
“Fair enough. I can’t imagine you functioning outside the force just yet,” Kakashi said, his teasing laced with a kernel of sincerity. He paused, glancing at Tenzo with mock seriousness. “If you’re joining the ranks of ‘normal’ shinobi, though, you’ll need standard equipment.”
Before Tenzo could reply, Kakashi slung an arm over his shoulders, steering him toward the bustling shopping district.
“Since Tsunade’s stealing my student, I’ve got time to help my favourite kouhai pretend to have a life outside of ANBU. Let’s go, Tenzo. You’re buying.”
—
Tsunade had forgotten how much patience it took to train a genin. Despite both Sakura and Ino being bright young kunoichi, they were still green—eager but struggling to hone their chakra control with precision. She’d assigned them foundational exercises to start with, but progress was slow. Every few minutes, she found herself stepping in to correct their stance or adjust their focus before they accidentally did something catastrophic, like tearing up her office floor.
Her plan for the day had included lunch with Tenzo, a rare moment of reprieve from the endless demands of her Hokage duties. She’d noticed that Shizune had a soft spot for the young man, and figured having Tenzo around might even coax her overworked assistant to take a break. But as the minutes ticked by and her students continued to fumble with their tasks, Tsunade was still very much entrenched in her responsibilities when Tenzo let himself in.
“I’ve come to get you for lunch, Lady Tsu—” Tenzo started, his voice trailing off as his eyes landed on Sakura and Ino. His normally unflappable demeanour faltered as the two girls paused their exercises to look at him with open curiosity.
“Lady... Mother?” he stammered, clearly trying to correct himself mid-sentence. The moment the words left his mouth, his face turned a shade of red rivaling Sakura’s hair. “I—I’ll just wait outside with Shizune,” he muttered hurriedly, pivoting on his heel and all but fleeing the room.
As soon as the door clicked shut, the girls burst into a fit of giggles, their chakra exercises forgotten in favour of the spectacle they’d just witnessed.
“Did he just call you ‘mother’?” Sakura asked, wide-eyed, while Ino covered her mouth, snickering uncontrollably.
Tsunade, never one to let an opportunity slip through her fingers, seized the moment with the ease of a seasoned gambler bluffing her hand. Teenage girls, especially kunoichi, were notorious gossips, and she knew just how far a single offhanded comment could travel in the shinobi grapevine.
“That’s because he is my son,” she said casually, not looking up from the scroll she was unrolling. “Tenzo Senju.”
The effect was immediate. Both girls froze mid-giggle, their expressions morphing into shock and awe.
“Wait—what?!” Ino’s voice came out louder than intended, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Your son?! I thought you were the last Senju!”
“Clearly not.” Tsunade smirked, offering no further explanation. She let the weight of her words hang in the air, knowing full well the implications would spread faster than fire in a dry forest.
As Sakura and Ino whispered fervently to each other, debating how Tenzo could possibly be her son, or who his father might have been, Tsunade leaned back in her chair, allowing herself a rare moment of amusement.
Her gambit was a simple one. If the right ears caught wind of this "revelation," Danzo wouldn’t dare make another underhanded move against her clan’s legacy. The only evidence he would have against it would surely hoist him by his own petard.
Satisfied, she turned her attention back to her work. Missing lunch wasn’t ideal, but it was worth it for the entertainment value alone.
Meanwhile, out in the hallway, Tenzo leaned against the wall, his face still red, as Shizune patted his shoulder sympathetically.