Naruto: Marrying Tsunade

Chapter 8 - Fishing

"You hid yourself well, I'll give you that. But tell me, how did you think I wouldn't notice?"

For a brief moment, Tsunade hesitated. Had he truly sensed her presence, or was he bluffing? Either way, his reaction only fueled her suspicion.

Seeing him speechless, she took it as confirmation. She clenched her fists, her frustration growing. "So you were just toying with me?"

Aokiji blinked in confusion. "What? Wait, where is this coming from?"

Her sharp glare was answer enough.

Before he could defend himself, Tsunade lunged forward, throwing a punch straight at his face.

She wasn't as impulsive as she seemed—this was a test. She had a strong hunch that Aokiji had been holding back in their sparring match at school. If that was the case, she would make him fight seriously now.

Aokiji had a bad feeling about this. If he let this punch land on him like he did back in class, he might actually be out cold for the day.

He dodged just in time, twisting his body to the side. In one fluid motion, he grabbed her wrist, turned his back to her, and, using her own momentum, flipped her cleanly over his shoulder.

She barely had time to react before her body was airborne.

With a loud splash, Tsunade crashed into the lake behind them. Water erupted around her before rippling back into calmness.

For a few seconds, silence.

Then, Tsunade emerged from the lake, completely drenched. Strands of her blonde hair clung to her face, water dripped from her chin, and her soaked clothes clung uncomfortably to her form.

Aokiji took a step back, recognizing the familiar look in her eyes—a mixture of rage and humiliation.

"Tsunade, look, I can explain—"

"You!" Her roar was loud enough to startle a flock of birds from the treetops.

Aokiji instinctively raised his hands in surrender. "I understand you're upset, but please, for the sake of your dignity, you might want to, uh… fix your appearance first."

Tsunade frowned at his cryptic comment before glancing down. The moment she realized her wet clothes had become see-through, her face flushed bright red.

A piercing shriek filled the air, and before Aokiji could react—

Smack.

A loud slap landed on his cheek.

Before he could fully process it—

Smack.

Another one.

Two perfect, burning-red handprints formed on both sides of his face.

Tsunade, now fuming, crossed her arms and huffed. "What are you still standing around for? Light a fire already and help me dry my clothes!"

Aokiji, rubbing his stinging cheeks, sighed. "Women are truly unreasonable creatures… First, you attack me, and now I'm supposed to play survival guide?"

Still, he grudgingly picked up some dry sticks and began rubbing them together to start a fire.

Tsunade watched for a few moments before her impatience took over. "Where's your Fire Style jutsu? This is taking forever."

Aokiji gave her an annoyed look. "I don't have one."

Tsunade raised an eyebrow. "What? But you're an Uchiha."

Aokiji sighed. "Who told you all Uchiha have to use Fire Style?"

It was true that the Uchiha Clan was famous for their fire jutsu, but that didn't mean every single one of them had to be proficient in it. Still, now that she mentioned it, learning a basic Fire Style technique might not be a bad idea. His grandmother had tested his chakra affinity when he was younger and confirmed he had a fire attribute.

"Maybe I should take the time to actually learn the Great Fireball Jutsu," he muttered to himself. "Itachi learned it in one try. Sasuke took an entire afternoon. I'll be humble and give myself… a few days."

Tsunade snorted. "You're really a disgrace to your clan."

Aokiji exhaled sharply and suppressed the urge to retaliate. His focus shifted when he noticed a sudden movement from his fishing rod.

The line jerked violently.

His eyes lit up. After countless days of catching nothing, could this finally be his lucky break?

Without hesitation, he lunged forward and grabbed the rod.

The resistance on the other end was strong. Too strong.

The rod bent sharply as the creature on the other side yanked hard, nearly pulling Aokiji off his feet.

"This isn't a fish, it's a damn sea monster!"

Slowly but surely, the unknown creature dragged him forward. His boots dug into the mud, but the force was relentless. His feet slid closer to the edge.

Tsunade stood by, arms crossed, watching with amusement.

"Are you just gonna stand there?!" Aokiji shouted.

Seeing him halfway submerged in the water, Tsunade finally rushed forward and grabbed his legs.

"Hold on!" she grunted.

"I wouldn't be struggling if I could!" Aokiji shot back, his face half-submerged.

With a final, desperate heave, the two of them yanked backward, dragging the creature onto shore.

A massive fish flopped onto the ground, gasping for breath.

Both of them collapsed onto the muddy bank, panting heavily.

After a moment, Aokiji turned his head and smirked. "Look at you. You're as dirty as a kitten."

Tsunade scoffed. "And you look any better?"

They exchanged exhausted laughter before Aokiji sat up and dusted himself off.

"Thanks, by the way," he said, his tone more sincere this time.

Tsunade waved him off. "It's no big deal."

Despite their earlier arguments, the tension between them had noticeably eased.

"Alright, let's head back and wash up. I don't know about you, but I can't stand being covered in mud."

"Agreed," Aokiji said, slinging the giant fish over his shoulder.

With that, the two walked back toward the village, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon.

For the first time since they met, Aokiji realized that maybe, just maybe, Tsunade wasn't as unbearable as he had first thought.

On the way back, Tsunade suddenly brought up an old matter, her tone casual but tinged with curiosity.

"Aokiji, why did you hold back during the practical class?"

He barely glanced at her, his voice as indifferent as ever. "I didn't feel like dealing with the hassle."

"Hassle?" She narrowed her eyes. "What kind of hassle?"

Aokiji let out a small sigh, already sensing where this conversation was headed. "Before I answer, let me make something clear—you promised not to hit me."

Tsunade scoffed but nodded. "Fine. I won't hit you. Now talk."

"It's simple," he said, stretching his arms lazily. "Knowing your personality, if I had beaten you back then, you'd have never let it go. You'd keep challenging me over and over until you won."

Tsunade clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Hah! You sure talk big. You say that like you could actually beat me." She smirked and cracked her knuckles. "How about we settle it right now?"

Aokiji shot her a tired look. "See? You're already proving my point."

Tsunade hesitated for a moment before huffing and crossing her arms. It was true—when she lost to someone, it became an obsession to defeat them. The last time Aokiji outperformed her in the shuriken test, she had spent hours practicing just to surpass him the next time.

Without realizing it, the two had walked side by side until they reached a fork in the road.

The Senju and Uchiha districts were in opposite directions.

"Guess this is where we part ways," Tsunade said. "I'm heading home."

Aokiji gave a small nod. "Yeah. Later."

With that, they went their separate ways.

As Aokiji stepped into Uchiha territory, the familiar sights and sounds of his clan greeted him. The scent of grilled meat wafted from a food stall, and a passing vendor spotted him, calling out with a grin.

"Oi, Aokiji! Didn't catch any fish today?"

Aokiji smirked and patted the massive fish slung over his back. "Hit rock bottom, but bounced back."

The vendor eyed the fish in surprise. "That's a big one. You sure you can finish it by yourself? I'll buy it off you if you don't want it."

"Tempting," Aokiji said, adjusting the fish on his shoulder. "But I have a guest to treat tonight."

"A guest?"

"Yeah," he replied vaguely. "Anyway, I'm covered in mud. Gonna take a shower first."

The vendor chuckled. "Hah! Go on, then. You stink of lake water."

Aokiji ignored the remark and walked past, disappearing into the heart of the Uchiha district.

Unbeknownst to him, two men sat within a quiet room, watching him through the partially drawn curtains of a traditional Uchiha residence.

Inside the dimly lit room, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken thoughts.

The man who spoke first had a sharp, angular face, his expression perpetually stern. Deep lines ran from the corners of his mouth to his chin, aging him beyond his years. His name was Uchiha Raika—an elite jonin of the Uchiha clan.

Sitting across from him was a much older man, his face weathered by time, his beard stark white against his wrinkled skin. Though his body had grown frail, his eyes remained sharp, brimming with wisdom and authority.

He was Uchiha Itachi—not the famed prodigy of the future, but the elder Itachi, a veteran of the Warring States period and one of the most revered figures in the Uchiha clan.

Raika hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Elder Itachi, are you certain about letting Aokiji continue like this?" His voice was low, measured. "He's… different. Should we really just leave him be?"

Itachi remained silent for a moment, his gaze still fixed on the boy outside. Then, he sighed. "We'll observe him for a few more years. If he still hasn't awakened his Sharingan by then, we may have to give up on him."

Raika frowned. "You mean—"

"If he has no talent for the Sharingan, there's no point in forcing him onto the battlefield," Itachi said calmly. "Aokiji has already expressed that he doesn't wish to be a shinobi. Perhaps we should honor that wish."

His tone was steady, but there was something deeper behind his words—something heavy, almost regretful. He exhaled slowly, leaning back slightly. "At least then, I'll have an answer for Bluebird when I reach the afterlife."

Raika's brow furrowed. "Elder, you speak as if your time is near. You're still strong."

Itachi chuckled softly. "My body may still be here, but my soul lags behind this era." He gazed at the wooden ceiling, his expression distant. "Back when Madara and Hashirama created Konoha, I believed we had finally found peace. That the Warring States era was behind us. But look at us now… The world has changed, yet history keeps repeating itself."

Raika nodded solemnly. "No one expected Lord Madara to fall the way he did."

Itachi's sharp eyes flickered. "Do you truly believe Madara is dead?"

Raika stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"You know as well as I do—Madara's body vanished. Hashirama and Tobirama personally confirmed his death, yet the body we found turned out to be nothing more than a shadow clone."

"Wasn't it stolen?"

Itachi shook his head. "That was the official explanation. But do you really believe someone could steal Madara's body so easily?" He leaned forward slightly. "I suspect he used Izanagi."

Raika inhaled sharply. "That forbidden technique?"

"It's possible," Itachi said. "The Mangekyō Sharingan can store techniques with a time delay. Madara could have preemptively planted an Izanagi within his eye, setting it to activate upon his death. That would allow him to rewrite reality itself, ensuring his survival."

Raika looked disturbed. "But why would he do that? Now that Lord Hashirama is dead, there's no one left who can match him."

"That's what troubles me," Itachi admitted. "Madara was always several steps ahead of everyone else. He left Konoha, waged war against it, then vanished. I don't believe he did all of that on impulse. There must have been a greater goal he was working toward."

Raika fell silent, lost in thought.

After a while, Itachi exhaled and changed the subject. "By the way, I heard you recently became a grandfather."

Raika blinked at the sudden shift. "Ah… Yes. I just had a grandson." He rubbed his temples. "I'm already 36, and I only have one grandchild. It's embarrassing, honestly."

Itachi chuckled. "What's his name?"

"Fugaku."

A small smile crossed the old man's face. "A good name." His eyes softened. "Once he's old enough, let me train him. I may not have much time left, but I'd like to see one last dance before I go."

Raika was taken aback, but then he smiled as well. "I'd be honored, Elder Itachi."

Itachi closed his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. "Hashirama once said something I never forgot… 'Where the leaves dance, fire will never cease.' Perhaps… he was right."