Hiruko fought to maintain his composure, forcing his voice into its usual state of clinical indifference. "It's nothing. I was just going to ask what you wanted to eat. I can whip something up."
Despite his resolve, his peripheral vision betrayed him, repeatedly drifting toward the startlingly white expanse of skin Tsunade was currently flaunting.
"Do you even need to ask?" Tsunade grabbed a bottle of ice-cold cola from the fridge and took a long, aggressive gulp. She looked at the expressionless Hiruko with a hint of confusion. "Since when do you ask? Isn't it usually just 'I cook, you eat'? Did something happen today to put you in a festive mood?"
Hiruko simply nodded and disappeared into the kitchen to begin his work.
He knew her tastes well. Tsunade had a profound love for high-calorie "junk food," and Hiruko was more than happy to indulge her. For a master of the Creation Rebirth technique, junk food was hardly a threat. With the power of the Strength of a Hundred Seal (Yin Seal), she could heal her body instantaneously, maintaining her peak physical condition and youthful metabolism.
Unlike Anko, who would eventually succumb to her dango addiction and transform into a "sweet potato" shape in the future, Tsunade didn't need to count calories or sacrifice her appetite for the sake of her figure. She could feast with reckless abandon—the ultimate perk of being the world's greatest Medical Ninja.
Tsunade sat cross-legged on the sofa, clutching the large bottle of cola. As she shifted her weight, the loosely tied bath towel—already struggling to do its job—loosened further, barely clinging to the essentials. She didn't seem to care in the slightest. Feeling a bit flushed from the alcohol and the hot bath, she gave the front of the towel a tug to let some air in. It felt as though a stray breeze could send the fabric fluttering away, leaving one completely drowned in her overwhelming presence.
Her naturally bold personality, combined with their previous "incident" in the bathroom, meant she had discarded all pretense of being a "lady" around Hiruko. In his home, she was as comfortable as if it were her own, treating him with total, unshielded honesty.
After they had eaten their fill, Hiruko realized that Tsunade's return to his house was her silent way of accepting his "flower-collecting" tendencies. He wasn't the type of man to let such an invitation go to waste.
He prepared a romantic spread of wine. The amber liquid swirled in crystal glasses, refracting the dancing flames of the fireplace. When Hiruko slid a glass across the table, his fingertips brushed against the rim with a sharp, clear ring.
Tsunade took it and drained it in one go. The elegant curve of her throat moved with the swallow, a fleeting trail of moisture glistening at the corner of her mouth.
"Slow down," he said, his voice low against the crackle of the hearth. "This wine has a kick."
"Since when did you start worrying about my tolerance?" She arched an eyebrow, a deep crimson flush spreading from behind her ears to her cheekbones like rouge bleeding into rice paper.
"Since..." He looked down, rotating his glass. "A long time ago."
Tsunade traced the silhouette of his face with her eyes—the pale skin where faint blue veins were visible, the sharp shadows cast by his cheekbones making his expression seem even more brooding. When the firelight caught his lowered lashes, the fine shadows trembled against his eyelids like the wings of a dying butterfly.
"You're different," she heard herself say.
"Better or worse?" He suddenly looked up, the moonlight and firelight intertwining in his pupils into an eerie amber glow.
"Like an unsheathed blade." Her nails dug into her palm. "You know it'll cut your hand, yet you still want to grip it tight."
He chuckled lowly, his hand reaching out. His knuckles, slightly calloused, grazed the corner of her lip. He tucked a stray golden lock behind her ear.
"And yet, you still came."
The sound of the rain outside was muffled by heavy curtains, reduced to a dull background hum. Tsunade sat on the edge of the bed, her fingertip tracing circles around the rim of her glass, making the crystal hum softly.
Hiruko stood by the window, his tall, slender frame pulled into a lonely silhouette by the moonlight. When he approached, Tsunade caught the scent of rain mixed with the faint metallic tang of the lab.
"Liar," she accused softly.
"It takes one to know one."
"Tsunade..." He breathed her name like a sigh, the sound dissolving into the shadows cast by her trembling lashes.
His fingertips lingered on her cheek before stopping at her jaw, gently tilting her face up. Tsunade could smell the faint aroma of wine on his breath, mixed with rain and iron—it reminded her of a kunai washed clean by a storm on the battlefield.
"Are you still counting heartbeats?" he asked suddenly, his thumb brushing against the pulse thrumming in her neck.
Tsunade grabbed his wrist, but her strength failed her the moment she touched his skin. His body temperature was hotter than she remembered, the pulse at his wrist bone thumping against her palm.
"A bad habit of Medical Ninjas," she whispered, yet she couldn't stop herself from counting—120 beats per minute, much faster than his usual rhythm.
Hiruko smirked. As he leaned in, his hair brushed against her exposed shoulder. When his lips pressed against her ear, Tsunade instinctively gripped the bedsheets.
"You know..." his hot breath tickled her ear, "your heartbeat... is louder than the rain."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he took the opportunity to seal her lips with his. The kiss tasted of spicy alcohol, and the slight scrape of his canine against her lower lip sent a sharp jolt through her. Tsunade bunched the fabric of his collar in her hands, unsure whether she wanted to push him away or pull him closer.
The friction of fabric became loud in the silence. His kimono slipped from his shoulders, revealing a pale chest crisscrossed with faint scars. Tsunade reached out as if possessed, her fingers tracing the marks. The skin beneath her touch tightened instantly.
"These are..." her voice was hoarse.
"Proof of your absence." He caught her wandering hand and pressed it against his heart.
Beneath her palm, she felt a frantic, powerful vibration, like a beast trapped in a cage. A flash of lightning streaked outside the window, and in that split second of brilliance, she saw the surging darkness in his eyes.
The thunder crashed a second later, and he used the momentum to press her into the mattress, her golden hair spreading out like shattered moonlight.
"Last chance," he rasped against her forehead. "Push me away."
Tsunade's response was to reach for the buckle of his belt.
The metallic click of the belt hitting the floor was sharp, but it was quickly swallowed by the sound of the falling rain. His kisses followed the line of her collarbone downward, lingering on every old scar he found.
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