Tsunade's burning gaze at the bushes soon returned to something more playful once her audience scampered off.
"A ninja," Tsunade began, folding her arms across her chest as she addressed Uchiha Tatsumi, "is more than just a symbol of strength. It's a responsibility. With power comes the duty to protect what's precious." She paused, her gaze softening slightly. "A ninja without conviction cannot control their power, nor can they truly grow."
She leaned forward, her expression shifting, the playful mask of earlier replaced by something more serious. "So, Tatsumi, tell me. What is your dream? As your teacher, I need to know." She pushed up non-existent glasses, fully embracing her role.
Cosplay time, Tatsumi thought wryly. Leave it to Tsunade to take things to the next level. The "what's your dream?" question was a classic Konoha trope. It was a way for Jonin to gauge their new charges, identify potential problem children, and offer guidance. Of course, the results were often… less than inspiring. Most of those who declared their dreams rarely achieved them.
Tsunade, however, was genuinely curious about Tatsumi's aspirations. Geniuses, she knew, often marched to the beat of a different drum. And Tatsumi, as an Uchiha, was already an anomaly. His father had been a teammate of the Third Hokage and a student of her own second grandfather. There was a connection there, a sense of responsibility. Tsunade wanted to offer this Uchiha child the guidance he needed.
"A dream?" Tatsumi echoed, tilting his head forty-five degrees, striking a melancholic pose. He gazed at the wispy white clouds drifting across the sky, the gentle breeze ruffling his dark hair. Time for some dramatic flair…
Unfortunately, Tsunade's patience seemed to have worn thin. Before he could fully launch into his carefully crafted soliloquy, she grabbed a handful of his hair and gave it a sharp tug. "Enough with the theatrics!" she exclaimed impatiently. "Spit it out! You're even more long-winded than the old man!"
Lord Third? Tatsumi thought, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. Now that's a low blow.
When it came to dreams, Tatsumi was conflicted. As a transmigrated soul, he'd spent years adapting to this world, integrating himself into its fabric. Yet, he still carried the echoes of his past life within him. He might be prone to occasional lapses in seriousness, a well-placed joke, or a touch of irreverence, but he genuinely cared for his friends.
"I've given it some thought," Tatsumi began, choosing his words carefully. "I'd like to become a ninja, earn a decent living, marry a woman of average attractiveness, and have two children. A girl first, then a boy."
He paused, picturing the idyllic scene. "When my daughter gets married and my son is old enough to fend for himself, I'll retire from being a ninja. I'll spend my days playing shogi or go, living a quiet, peaceful life. And then," he concluded, a hint of wistfulness in his voice, "I'd like to die peacefully, ideally before my wife does."
Tatsumi had essentially paraphrased Shikamaru's famous, if somewhat cynical, life plan. He knew, deep down, that such a tranquil existence was unlikely. The future held too many uncertainties, too many dangers.
Thwack! Tsunade delivered a sharp smack to the back of his head. "Honestly, you sound like some washed-up middle-aged novelist! You're worse than Jiraiya!"
Jiraiya? Tatsumi thought, bewildered. What did he do?
"Where's your ambition?" Tsunade demanded, clearly unimpressed. "Don't you have any real drive?" She saw Tatsumi's response as nothing more than a lazy, dismissive attempt to avoid the question.
"Che," Tatsumi muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "You wouldn't understand. When you reach my level of spiritual maturity, you'll appreciate the beauty of such a simple existence."
"Alright," Tsunade said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "How about this: have you ever considered becoming Hokage?"
Tatsumi blinked. "Hokage? Isn't that Nawaki's dream? I'd feel bad taking it from him. What would he have to strive for then?"
"Hmph," Tsunade snorted. "You're surprisingly considerate for a little devil."
Considerate? Tatsumi thought. More like realistic. The Hokage dream was a dangerous one. Look at Nawaki, the First Hokage's grandson – he was dead by twelve. Obito, another Hokage hopeful, was… well, his fate wasn't much better. And Minato, Naruto's father, became Hokage only to die shortly after. The Hokage seat was a cursed one.
So, the Hokage position was cursed? Tatsumi mused. Was Uchiha Madara the prime example? His dream of Hokage had been snatched away by the First and Second Hokage. No wonder he held such a grudge. And the Third Hokage? He'd always favoured Danzo, keeping him close but never letting him take the Hokage seat. Danzo, as a result, had lived a relatively long life, reaching his sixties or seventies. But the moment he finally achieved his ambition and became Hokage, he was promptly killed. Coincidence? I think not.
After their brief exchange, Tsunade transitioned into teacher mode. "This is the Senju clan training ground," she announced, gesturing around the expansive space. "It's usually deserted. You'll be staying here for the next week." Her tone turned slightly sterner. "Food and water will be earned through your performance. If I'm not satisfied, your supplies will be cut off."
She paused, her gaze locking onto Tatsumi. "No matter your true dreams, in the world of ninjas, strength is paramount. It's the key to survival. And understanding your own strength is crucial."
Tsunade continued, "This week, I won't be teaching you any new Ninjutsu, Genjutsu, or Taijutsu. Instead, I'll focus on the fundamentals: Chakra Control."
"You felt it yourself, didn't you?" she pressed. "During your fight with my Shadow Clone, you struggled. Your Ninjutsu, Taijutsu, Shurikenjutsu, and Genjutsu are all adequate. But your Chakra Control is lacking. A ninja must possess precise control over their chakra."
"Don't assume that vast chakra reserves mean you can be careless," she warned. "There will always be someone with more chakra than you. The ninjas of the past understood this. They focused on mastery. With precise Chakra Control, you can perform Ninjutsu with the same power but consume far less chakra."
"Chakra Control is also fundamental to mastering advanced techniques," Tsunade explained. "And it's essential for future skills like Chakra Nature Transformation and Chakra Shape Transformation."
"I know you have a talent for Genjutsu," she continued. "While I'm not a Genjutsu specialist myself, I know that it demands precise Chakra Control. With finer control, your Genjutsu will be more potent, and you'll have a greater margin for error. More importantly," she added, her voice dropping slightly, "with truly masterful Chakra Control, it will be incredibly difficult for even high-ranking ninjas to detect the subtle traces of your Genjutsu."
Tatsumi nodded, absorbing the information. He understood the importance of Chakra Control. Chakra reserves were often determined by physical constitution, like with the Uzumaki and Senju clans, who were naturally blessed with vast amounts of chakra. But Chakra Control was a skill that could be honed and improved through dedicated practice.
Tsunade, despite her flaws—her impatience, short temper, gambling addiction, laziness, and penchant for bullying him—was a capable teacher. Tatsumi felt comfortable in her presence, not sensing the jaded weariness that defined her character in the manga.
In the original storyline, the Tsunade of the Leaf Village, one of the legendary Sannin, had been irrevocably changed by the deaths of Nawaki and Dan. The constant battles, the pain, had slowly eroded her spirit. Plagued by hemophobia, she'd eventually abandoned the village, wandering for decades with only Shizune by her side. She wouldn't have left if she still had ties to the village, if there was something to hold her there.
The Tsunade before him, however, while possessing a gambling habit, treated it more like a hobby than an escape. The future Tsunade used gambling as a way to numb the pain.
"Tatsumi," Tsunade's voice broke through his thoughts. "What are you pondering?"
"Nothing much," Tatsumi replied, shaking his head. "I was just wondering about your dream, sensei."
"My dream?" A flicker of nostalgia, even a hint of a smile, crossed Tsunade's face, but it quickly faded. She shook her head. "It's just a small, insignificant dream," she murmured, a touch of sadness in her voice.