The silence in the tavern was thick, like smoke that refused to rise.
Hajime stood tall at the entrance, his halberd strapped across his back, its double blades still faintly glowing with cold blue psychic light. He was a mountain among men now, nearly two meters tall, heavily muscled, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his cloak. Shadows danced across his sharp features, his expression unreadable.
All eyes remained on him.
But his own gaze was locked on Orochimaru.
The snake Sannin sat across from Tsunade at a small corner table, his posture relaxed, his fingers twitching slightly despite their current uselessness. His eyes, yellow and slit like a serpent's, narrowed ever so slightly, but the smirk remained.
Tsunade, half-drunk, glanced between them. Her voice was small, almost confused.
"Hajime…?"
He didn't answer.
The tension from his earlier words still hung in the air like a blade ready to fall.
"Do you want me to kill them?"
It hadn't been a threat.
It was an offer.
A genuine, emotionless option, like choosing whether to close a window or put out a candle.
Orochimaru shifted slightly. The movement was subtle, but in his pale face there was a flicker of discomfort, pain, likely. His hands were sealed. Chakra was blocked. Every heartbeat probably sent fire through his nerves.
Still, he smiled.
He glanced at Hajime with curiosity, not fear. "You're not from Konoha," he said softly. "Not a shinobi. Not ANBU. No forehead protector… your an outsider, are you Tsunade apprentice"?
Hajime remained motionless.
The halberd on his back pulsed faintly again, just once. Like a heartbeat made of blue fire.
Orochimaru's smirk widened, but he leaned slightly toward Tsunade, careful not to move too much.
"I didn't come here for violence," he said smoothly. "I came to make an offer."
His voice was honeyed poison. Every word was soft, deliberate.
"You could end the pain, Tsunade. Heal these hands…" He raised his sealed arms slightly, grimacing. "And in return, I'll return them."
She blinked slowly. Her eyes were glassy from the sake. But the names cut through the haze like daggers.
"Dan. Nawaki."
Her breath hitched. Hajime saw it. A tremble in her fingers. A sudden stiffness in her shoulders.
"I can bring them back to you," Orochimaru continued. "You have my word."
He paused, glancing once more at Hajime.
He did not push further.
He wanted to, Hajime could feel it. The itch to manipulate, to provoke. It radiated off the man like cold mist. But something kept him in check. A pressure in the room he couldn't ignore.
The pressure of Hajime's presence.
He had felt it from the moment Hajime stepped in. That aura. Not chakra. Something deeper, older. Wrong, by this world's standards. Not evil, but alien. A current from another realm entirely.
And it scared him.
Behind his cold smile, Orochimaru was calculating. Weighing every word, every twitch, every breath.
Hajime did not blink. He did not speak. His silence was louder than shouting.
Kabuto, standing nearby, watched too. His glasses flashed with the lantern light. He opened his mouth once to say something, then closed it again as Hajime's gaze flicked toward him.
They both felt it.
He was not to be provoked.
After a long moment, Orochimaru stood. His movement slow, elegant. He dipped his head slightly to Tsunade.
"You don't have to decide now," he said smoothly. "Think on it. I'll return in three days. When you're ready."
Kabuto moved behind him, silent.
The two turned toward the door, but as Orochimaru passed by Hajime, he paused.
He tilted his head slightly. Not in threat, but curiosity. Like a biologist observing a rare specimen.
"You're… not from here," he murmured. "I can smell it on you. I can feel it. what are you, I wonder?"
Hajime didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Instead, the halberd on his back gave another faint hum, the psychic runes along its shaft pulsing brighter for a heartbeat.
Orochimaru's smile twitched, almost faltered.
Then he turned and left.
The door shut behind them, leaving the tavern in silence once more.
Tsunade sat still at the table, her eyes wide but unfocused. Her fingers slowly uncurled from the bottle. She didn't speak.
Hajime approached quietly.
No words passed between them.
He reached out a hand.
She stared at it for a long moment. Then, silently, she took it.
They left the tavern together.
Outside, the wind was cooler than before, brushing across the rooftops and down the narrow street. The sky above had begun to shift into the deep orange of evening.
They walked side by side.
Hajime carried himself like a living monument, tall, broad, halberd glinting behind him in the fading light. His footsteps were steady, heavy, but somehow graceful, each one placed with quiet purpose.
Tsunade walked beside him, her usual swagger dulled. Her eyes downcast. The weight of the past pressed hard on her shoulders, and she said nothing.
Neither did Hajime.
He didn't need to.
This wasn't the time for questions or reassurances. Not yet.
Just presence.
Just silence.
The path back to the clinic was long, lit only by the last rays of the sun and the soft glow of lanterns flickering to life along the road. People turned to stare as they passed. Whispers followed again.
"That's him again…"
"With Tsunade-sama?"
"He's Huge…"
But none of it mattered.
Tsunade kept her eyes on the road.
Hajime kept his hand near his halberd.
They didn't speak.
Not yet.