In less than two minutes of fighting Kakashi, Guts achieved something most would earn only after a week of hellish training.
The kind of leap that made your body ache just by realizing it.
He figured he deserved a break. Just one night.
Sure, he was chasing strength. But that didn't mean he had to live like some cave-dwelling lunatic.
He wasn't Uchiha Madara.
Yeah, the man had strength, no one denied that. But hiding away in some damp hole, muttering to himself and playing god?
Guts preferred sunlight and hot meals. What's the point of being powerful if you're miserable?
Gurrrgle...
His stomach growled loud enough to scare a squirrel off a branch. Guts sighed and gave his belly a light slap.
"Alright, alright. No training today. Just two pheasants should do the trick. No need to go chasing boars into the woods."
He stretched, ready to slip out of the village and vanish into Konoha Forest like he usually did. But before he could take a step, a somber procession came into view.
A ninja squad entered the village, carrying a coffin.
Leading them was a woman with slumped shoulders and a face drained of color.
Her blonde hair, once proud and striking, now looked weighed down by sorrow. Even from a distance, Guts recognized her.
Senju Tsunade.
One of the few women who had made a real impression on him—right alongside Yūhi Kurenai.
His expression darkened.
So... the one in the coffin was—
His jaw clenched.
Of course. It still happened.
Even with the butterfly effect he'd been flapping through the world, some things... some fates refused to change.
Senju Nawaki was dead.
Guts didn't hate the kid. Truth be told, he even respected him.
But there was never a good enough reason, never a justifiable excuse, to try and stop him from going to the battlefield.
Nawaki had made his choice. Like every shinobi before him.
As Tsunade passed him, her eyes flicked toward Guts for a second—just one. Her lips pressed tight. No words. None needed.
Maybe she couldn't speak.
Maybe the grief had closed her throat entirely.
The death of Nawaki wasn't considered a big deal.
On paper, he was just a Genin. In times of war, Genin fell like leaves in autumn—quiet, endless, and forgotten by winter.
But he wasn't just any Genin.
He was the grandson of the First Hokage, Senju Hashirama.
Still, there was no grand funeral. No banners. No trumpets. Just a quiet burial with a handful of the Senju's old allies. A small gathering. Enough to respect his bloodline.
Guts heard whispers from the tavern later. The situation in the Land of Rain had gotten worse—so much so that even Orochimaru and Jiraiya didn't return to pay their respects.
They remained at the front.
Only the Third Hokage came, to keep up appearances.
He offered a few words, heavy with meaning, then left.
Everyone else followed.
All but one.
It was already sunset by the time Tsunade found herself alone.
Kneeling at the grave, her golden bangs fell like a curtain, hiding her face.
The occasional trembling in her shoulders was the only sign that she was crying. No sobs. Just a broken rhythm of breath and pain.
From the shadows, Guts had been watching.
He waited until the Third Hokage disappeared around the corner, then quietly stepped forward and sat beside her.
He said nothing.
Just reached out and took her hand—bare, warm, and far larger than his.
She flinched. Her body jerked as if yanked back into reality, and she looked at him in disbelief through the veil of her hair.
But then… she held on.
Clutched his hand like it was the only thing anchoring her to the world.
Even without using Tekkai, Guts had a strong body yet he felt her grip dig into his bones. It hurt, actually.
But he didn't pull away.
The pain in her grasp wasn't physical.
It was the kind of pain no jutsu could heal.
The kind that time dragged behind it like a heavy chain.
He still didn't say a word.
Because really, what could you say?
Sometimes silence is the only mercy you can give.
He was best at punching people.
Just outside the cemetery, a figure stopped mid-step.
Kato Dan—Konoha's special assassination unit operative—had just returned from the field.
Unlike Tsunade, who fought on the frontlines, his assignments often brought him back to the village to relay intelligence.
The moment he'd heard the news—Senju Nawaki, fallen in a trap, killed in action—he had rushed over.
But someone else had beaten him here.
A five-year-old kid.
The same one he'd never really liked.
Kato Dan narrowed his eyes. Though he didn't think a child like that could pose any threat, something about the scene unsettled him. That kid... was holding Tsunade's hand.
And she hadn't pulled away.
He hesitated. For all his sharp instincts in the field, emotional situations weren't his strength.
Still, he approached, adjusting his tone to sound as gentle as he could manage.
"Tsunade… I just heard. I'm sorry about Nawaki," he said softly.
"But you shouldn't let grief bury you. Nawaki wouldn't want to see you like this, would he?"
"Are you brain-dead?"
Guts frowned and snapped, voice laced with unfiltered scorn. "Can't you keep your mouth shut for five seconds?"
He didn't yell. But the weight of his words struck like a hammer.
In his past life, Guts had buried the only family he had—his grandfather. He knew the suffocating silence of grief. Words didn't help.
Sometimes, they made it worse.
Quiet company. That was the only comfort worth anything.
But Kato Dan didn't get it. Didn't feel it.
The tension in the air, which had just begun to loosen, pulled taut again. The sorrow that Tsunade had tried to suppress came flooding back in an instant.
Guts clenched his fists.
Kato Dan's expression darkened. He looked ready to bite back—but stopped himself.
Tsunade was watching. He wasn't about to argue with a child in front of her.
Then, without a word, Tsunade slowly stood up.
She didn't let go of Guts's hand.
She didn't glance at Kato Dan.
And she walked away.
"Tsunade—wait!" Kato Dan called after her, hurrying forward.
"Hey, I just—!"
Boom!
The ground between them exploded.
Guts had thrown a full-force punch into the earth. A shockwave cracked through the cemetery floor like lightning, sending fragments of stone and dirt flying.
Shards shot up, pelting toward Kato Dan like bullets.
It wasn't a random outburst.
It was a warning.
"Get lost," Guts said coldly, lowering his fist.
Kato Dan stumbled back, shielding himself from the debris. He looked up at Guts, eyes burning with disbelief and something close to fury.
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