#slughime

“This is so gross--” the genin muttered to herself as she held Katsuyu in her hands like a fire hose, the slug sending sprays of acid over the deceased bodies of the Kiri-nin that had sprung an ambush on them while Sakura had accompanied Tsunade and Shizune in a three-man cell to Sunagakure for a diplomatic mission. Outside, the carriage they’d been traveling in was parked outside the cave, the girl knowing that it wasn’t pretty, but it was also a necessary evil as not to start a war. 

Still, it’s with childish fascination that Sakura watched this particular corpse bubble and hiss and steam as it began corroding away, taking a stick and poking the chest cavity that caved in with a sour sigh of fumes that had the genin dropping her stick with a gasp.

Sneaking into the onsen late in the evening after everyone else had left this particular woman’s bath for a long dinner or something of like might not have been the best idea, but--well, the water was warm, cloudy, and so opaque that it was impossible to see through. Some mineral bath, Sakura supposed as she’d eased herself into the motes of foam and steam, heart still throbbing in her throat from trepidation. 

No one knew, the healer thought as she pressed a palm flat against her abdomen, only a few months along but no longer feeling quite as flat as before. She was feeling dizzy, nauseous, and downright moody more than usual. Overhanging branches gave the impression of seclusion, at least, as she forced herself to try and relax. It’s for the baby’s sake, she reminded herself.

one from tsunade ;)

Something he knew his brother would agree with was the fact that establishment of Konoha didn’t mean a permanent armistice between the two clans. Unwed due to years of instability and familial death blanketing he and his affairs in the black palls of funerals, it was only when those obligations and griefs lifted slightly that a true concordant could be struck. One that would entail marriage of a clanswoman of the Senju clan. It was on such an auspicious day that had been divined in the Book of Changes that he was received warmly by Hashirama, his brother in arms, while Tobirama glanced at him frostily with a terse bow and nothing more. 

The news had surprised him, frankly. Hashirama hadn’t mentioned he had a sister, but as he understood, it had been intentional as some clans were prone to steal women when they had shortages of potential brides. Rubbish like that. Guided towards the courtyard, Hashirama was all smiles as he goaded Madara along who elicited a reluctant smile of his own here and there. Yet, when he actually saw Tsunade, he stopped short.

She was... beautiful. With hair more resembling Tobirama’s in its paleness, she possessed browner eyes like Hashirama. Voluptuous even in a modest kimono the Senju sported, he felt his throat dry and cheeks warm at the womanly figure his eyes lingered too long upon, tearing his gaze away when Hashirama clapped him on the back in encouragement towards her. 

Gutted, betrayed. There really was no better name for what it’d accumulated to, feeling a grievous weight stab his chest every time his heart rallied enough to beat. His clan had ostracized him. With each footstep one or another took from the meeting hall of the council chamber, he felt his composure slipping through his fingers as the cold chill of abandonment took its place. His clan, the most beloved possession he had on the mortal plane, wrested from him so fitfully and frigidly. Water and sand down a sluice with nothing he could do about it. And that didn’t even begin with the Senju dominance and how they’d demonized him as a madman from the very beginning.

Hashirama hadn’t even done anything. Like a brother, yet he didn’t bother lifting a finger. His heart felt so leaden it could wither and drop from his chest like a stone, yet-- he felt someone else with him on Konoha’s abandoned streets, freezing when he realized who it was, shoulders sagging, defenseless to her presence.