"I’m here!" Shizune called out, rushing toward Saitama.
"Hey!" She thrust her palm forward, aiming for Saitama’s face. Though she had only recently been promoted to chūnin, as Tsunade-sama’s apprentice, she was solid in all areas—especially in close-quarters taijutsu.
Whoosh! The air was sliced by the force of her palm, but Saitama tilted his head slightly, effortlessly evading the strike.
"Why do you always greet people with a face slap?" he quipped, smirking at her serious expression.
"Ha!" Shizune, undeterred, pivoted on one foot and delivered a sweeping kick toward his waist, her movements sharp and fluid.
"Hmph!" Saitama stepped back lightly, dodging with ease.
Thud! Her kick drove her low to the ground, but she used the momentum to plant her palms into the dirt, launching herself upward with a twist. Her heel spun toward Saitama’s head like a whirling crescent.
"Heh, not bad," he said mid-motion, recognizing the clever improvisation. "Nice awareness."
Smack! He slapped her ankle aside, deflecting her kick, and swiftly caught her other leg mid-air.
"Got you."
He took two quick steps back while still holding her by the ankle. Shizune’s expression tensed as her free leg hit the ground awkwardly, forcing her to hop after him to regain balance.
"Hey!" Saitama grinned. "Still too green. You can’t go all-in like that with every attack."
Shizune didn’t respond, her face flushed—not from embarrassment, but from the challenge. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a bit frustrated that her attacks were being so effortlessly countered.
"...You going to let go?" Her voice was tight. The way he held her leg—one foot near his chest, the other on the ground—was hardly dignified.
"Haha, sorry." Saitama released her ankle casually, showing no hint of awkwardness.
"How was that?" she asked, regaining her footing.
"Not bad at all," he replied, shaking his hand as if brushing off the tension. "But you’re too confident in every strike. In taijutsu, you need to keep a backup plan with every move. Overcommitting will get you punished."
And so, "Sensei" Saitama began the lesson. Shizune continued to attack, while he analyzed her form, corrected her stances, and offered critiques. Each strike became sharper, each mistake smaller.
Time slipped by unnoticed. The camp grew quiet save for the patrolling shinobi. Fires burned low, casting flickering shadows against the tents.
Saitama glanced at the sky. It was well past midnight—maybe two or three in the morning.
"Alright, that’s enough for today. It’s late. Let’s rest," he said, stretching his neck with a yawn.
"Huh? Already?" Shizune blinked, surprised. Immersed in the training, she hadn’t noticed the time.
"Of course. We’ve both got duties tomorrow. Come back around ten tomorrow night if you want to continue. You teach me, I teach you. Fair trade, remember?"
Shizune stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay."
As she packed up her things, she yawned softly. "Ten o’clock it is. Don’t be late."
"I won’t," Saitama replied, hands behind his head. "Tomorrow’s just a patrol."
Shizune gave a small smile before turning to leave. She didn’t know why, but she found herself trusting the Uchiha boy, even though they’d only just met.
The twelve-year-old Shizune walked back to her tent slowly. Though officially Tsunade’s aide, she was really more like a younger sister or apprentice than a bodyguard. Tsunade had brought her along both to train her and keep her close.
Tsunade-sama should be asleep by now, Shizune thought. Better be quiet. She’s been so tired lately...
Shizune saw Tsunade as both mentor and family—her only family now.
Saitama remained in place for a moment, watching her go. Then he turned and walked off in the opposite direction.
Meeting Shizune had been coincidence—just another thread in fate’s web. In this version of reality, things didn’t feel like stories. They were real.
Back in his past life, he’d always liked Shizune’s character—smart, loyal, grounded. But here, now, she wasn’t a character. She was a person. He had no time for romantic delusions or sentimental nonsense.
Still... she’s likable.
He moved silently through the tents like a passing shadow. He had only meant to get a snack. Instead, two hours had slipped by.
Gotta get some rest. Missions tomorrow.
Passing by the dying fires of the camp, Saitama finally reached his tent. He placed his short sword by the bed, lay down, and closed his eyes.
---
Ssst.
The flap of the tent opened slightly, and Shizune peeked inside. Her short black hair bounced as she scanned the space. No movement—Tsunade was asleep.
Relieved, she crept inside on tiptoe.
This tent was larger than most, with two beds. One was already occupied—Tsunade’s silhouette lay still beneath the covers.
Shizune quietly removed her sandals and climbed into her own bed.
"You’re back?" Tsunade’s voice came from the dark—calm, alert, and unmistakably awake.
"Ah—yes! Sorry for waking you, Tsunade-sama."
"No worries. Get some rest. We’ve got a full schedule tomorrow."
"Yes, ma’am." Shizune nodded and pulled the blanket over herself.
A few minutes passed in silence.
"Tsunade-sama... are you asleep?"
A low nasal sound answered. "Mmh."
"What is it?" Tsunade’s voice was drowsy but sharp. She could tell something was on Shizune’s mind.
"It’s nothing. Good night," Shizune whispered, turning to face the tent wall.
She stared into the darkness, mind replaying the moment her ankle had been caught. She could still feel the warmth of his hand.
Tch... it’s not like it means anything, she told herself.
Still, as she lay there, the face that kept appearing in her thoughts wasn’t that of her teacher—or even her teammates—but a calm-eyed Uchiha boy she barely knew.
He reminded her of someone else.
Kakashi...?
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