Reborn as a Yamanaka Genius

TSUNADE SENJU

Sunday, 4:17 AM

… Regards,

Danzo Shimura

Tsunade's finger curled around the letter, ruby-red nails biting into the paper. She clenched her jaw as she reread the first line.

'Since your retirement from active duty, casualties among our medical corps have risen by 23%.'

Her grip tightened, the parchment crinkling under her fingers. A slow breath escaped her as she continued reading.

'Front-line losses have increased, with a total of seventy-two shinobi dead or critically injured in the past month.'

Tsunade's thumb traced over the words, smearing the ink slightly. She pressed her lips into a thin line. Without looking, she reached for the green bottle on her desk, uncorked it, and took a swig.

'The younger medics are unable to compensate for the absence of skilled leadership in the field.'

She set the bottle down with a heavy thud, the liquid sloshing. Her shoulders went rigid, her hand twitching as she fought the urge to crumble the letter.

'Consider this a formal request to resume your duties, for the benefit of the village.'

The scroll promptly caught fire—the dry fabric sparking and curling in on itself.

She reached for the bottle again and took another long, burning drag, her eyes fixed out the window into the starry sky above. 

The quiet crackle of burning parchment was the only answer she gave. 

***

Sunday, 11:52 AM 

Tsunade strode down the hospital corridor, a stack of medical reports in one hand. Her eyes skimmed through them, assessing injuries, treatment plans, and supply requests.

"Doctor Hamada is asking for more blood-replenishing pills," Ayumi said, falling into step beside her. "We've had three more critical cases come in this morning."

Tsunade flipped to the next report. "Tell him to ration what we have until the next shipment. And find out why they're going through them so fast."

She glanced at a line of handwriting, then frowned. "Who signed off on this discharge for the Uchiha girl?"

"That was Dr. Tadao. He said she was stable and ready to be dis—"

"She was unconscious two days ago. Tell Tado I want her under observation until the end of next week. If he argues, send him to me."

She handed the report to Ayumi without breaking stride.

"Yes, ma'am." Ayumi scribbled a note on her clipboard, glancing up as Tsunade paused briefly at the door to a recovery room.

Without looking inside, Tsunade moved on, eyes back on the next report.

"And what about the medicine inventory? I don't want another situation like last month."

"Under control," Ayumi said, flipping through her notes. "But there's a request from the pediatric unit. They're asking if they can borrow two medics from the main floor to cover shifts."

"Denied," Tsunade replied. "They'll have to make do with what they have. The main floor is stretched thin enough."

They turned a corner, Ayumi still relaying updates. "And Dr. Higurashi wants approval to start using the new anesthetic—he says it's stabilized now, and he thinks it'll cut recovery time for surgeries by at least—"

"Tell him no." Tsunade didn't bother to look up. "Not until I've seen the full trial results myself."

"Yes, Lady Tsunade." Ayumi's tone was steady, already accustomed to the rapid-fire pace of these conversations.

"And Dr. Ishida sent another request for additional nursing staff. He says they're struggling to keep up with the number of overnight patients."

"Prioritize the care unit," Tsunade said. "If Ishida's team needs help, they'll have to get it from somewhere else."

She scanned another report, her brows knitting together as she read the injury count from the previous day.

Too many lives slipping through their fingers.

Fucking War.

Danzo's letter came to the front of her mind—'consider this a formal request to resume your duties, for the benefit of the village'—and her chakra spiked involuntarily, a wave of barely-contained fury flaring from her core.

The stack of papers in her hand trembled slightly.

Ayumi glanced at her, hesitant. "Lady Tsunade… is everything okay?"

Tsunade's jaw tightened. "Fine," she said, her tone making it abundantly clear there would be no further discussion.

They reached her office, and Ayumi opened the door, stepping aside to let Tsunade enter.

She crossed the room, tossing the stack of reports onto her desk. The morning sun filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the floor.

"Anything else?" Tsunade asked, sinking into her chair.

Ayumi shifted slightly. "Yes—Shizune's first day in the hospital. I thought you might want an update."

Tsunade's expression softened, just a fraction. "How's she doing?"

A small smile crept onto Ayumi's face. "She's doing great. Very capable, very focused. And she's getting along well with Satoshi-kun."

Tsunade's eyes narrowed. "Who's Satoshi?"

"Oh—he's a five-year-old Yamanaka," Ayumi replied, her voice brightening. "Akira-sama said he was a genius, so she had him come in to see if he has the resolve to be a medical shinobi."

Akira-sama? Tsunade's finger drummed on the armrest, expression unreadable. A memory of her grandmother and a Yamanaka elder laughing in her clan's garden surfaced briefly.

She knew Akira—been around her enough times in her youth to know how much of a straight shooter she was.

"She wanted to test if he could stick with the basics—the unglamorous work. He's been cleaning up vomit, changing bedpans, wiping down cots. But…"

"But?" Tsunade prompted, eyes still on her desk, though her attention had shifted.

"Well," Ayumi traced the edge of her clipboard with her thumb. "The other day, he noticed Dr. Chie mixing a burn ointment and told her the formula was wrong. He said she needed to adjust the rations, and…" She paused, shaking her head.

"He was right. No one knows how he even understands those specifics, but he does. And there are rumors—"

"Rumors?"

Ayumi nodded and spoke in almost a whisper. "That the Hokage himself approved him to take the test to skip grades. They say it's happening tomorrow."

Tsunade almost spat in disgust. Rumors spreading like wildfire, as usual.

If it was true, Hiruzen was pushing yet another child to advance—closer to the front lines, closer to the day he'd be thrown into battle, closer to dying a pointless death.

Her chakra almost flared again.

She had enough.

"If that's all, you're dismissed."

Ayumi's eyes flickered at her, Tsunade's abrupt mood swing catching her off guard. But she only nodded, bowing slightly before stepping out and closing the door softly behind her.

The room went quiet.

Tsunade let her gaze linger on the reports, her mind replaying the numbers, the injuries, her condition, the missing faces.

With a slow exhale, she unlocked the drawer hidden in her desk, fingers curling around a familiar escape.

Kami, she'd had more than enough. 

*** 

Monday, 10:06 AM 

Tsunade moved through the Hokage Tower with steady, unhurried steps. Her heels clacked against the tile.

Conversations dropped as she passed, heads on a swivel, whispers chasing her steps.

She ignored them all—she was more than used to those reactions.

At the reception desk outside the Hokage's office, a young secretary glanced up, her eyes widening as she scrambled to her feet.

"L-Lady Tsunade!" she said, clutching a stack of papers like a lifeline. "What—what can I help you with?"

Tsunade gaze traveled from the secretary's shaky hands to her face. "I'm here to see Hiruzen."

The secretary blinked, clearly thrown. "Oh—he's in a meeting, but if you'd like, I could—"

"With whom?"

"Lord Dan—Lady Tsunade!" the secretary called after her. "You can't just—"

Tsunade ignored her. She reached the door, pushing it open without knocking, and stepped inside. The room went quiet, the kind of silence that settled over old wood and the lingering scent of tobacco.

Her eyes swept the room in a single, assessing glance. Her former sensei sat behind his desk, pipe smoldering in its holder, one hand resting on an open scroll. 

"Lady Tsunade, I really must insist—" The secretary's voice wavered behind her, but Hiruzen raised a hand, stopping her mid-sentence.

He offered a small, placating smile. "It's all right."

The secretary hesitated, then nodded, seizing the excuse to withdraw. She closed the door softly behind her, leaving Tsunade alone with Hiruzen and Danzo.

Danzo sat across from Hiruzen, shoulders stiff, gaze narrowing as he took in her presence.

Tsunade didn't sit, didn't speak. She stood just inside the door, letting the silence stretch.

It was Danzo who finally broke it.

"I presume you received my letter?"

Her eyes slid to Danzo, face unreadable. 

"I did."

"And?"

She shrugged. "It accidentally caught fire."

They locked eyes, his face betraying nothing.

The silence crackled between them until Hiruzen sighed and shook his head.

"Tsunade," he said, "you can't just barge into meetings unannounced."

She held Danzo's gaze for a beat longer than necessary, then turned to Hiruzen.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Hiruzen's mouth twitched. "So, what do you need?"

"Medical supplies." She said it smoothly, without hesitation, as if she didn't just lie. "Just came to make sure the request is being processed properly."

She could feel Danzo's slithery gaze on her, unblinking.

Hiruzen raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yes." She glanced around the room, deflecting. "And what's this meeting about?"

Hiruzen took a slow draw on his pipe, then set it down.

"We were just about to observe a grade advancement assessment for two promising students."

Tsunade's gaze shifted from Hiruzen to Danzo, assessing. She stepped forward, coming to stand beside her sensei, arms crossing over her chest.

"Well," she said. "Since I'm here, I might as well watch."

=====

[A/N] Oof, Tsunade doesn't play, does she? 

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