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Naruto Fanfic: A Rift to Royalty
Chapter 4: A Taste of London
The Ferrari LaFerrari purred through London's bustling streets, its ruby-red curves weaving past black cabs and double-decker buses. Edward Windsor, Duke of York and third in line to the British throne, kept one hand on the wheel, his chestnut hair catching the afternoon breeze through the open window. His blue-gray eyes flicked to Tsunade, who sat in the passenger seat, her amber gaze locked on the city unfolding outside. Her blonde ponytail swayed, and her expression—a mix of awe and bewilderment—made Edward's lips twitch. Just an hour ago, she'd been screaming, clinging to him as the Ferrari's speed overwhelmed her shinobi composure. Now, she was transfixed, a warrior from another world captivated by his.
Tsunade leaned closer to the window, her breath fogging the glass. "These buildings…" she murmured, her voice soft, almost reverent. "They're so tall, like mountains of steel and glass. I've never seen anything like it. The Leaf has towers, but nothing this… grand." Her eyes traced the skyline—Shard's needle-like spire, the Gherkin's sleek curve, the historic dome of St. Paul's. The beauty of London, vibrant and chaotic, seemed to pierce her guarded heart, and Edward caught a flicker of something rare: vulnerability.
"It's London," he said, slowing at a traffic light. "Been like this for centuries, growing taller every year. Wait till you see it at night—lights everywhere, like stars."
She turned to him, her usual smirk replaced by curiosity. "Stars, huh? Where are we going, prince? You didn't drag me out here just to stare at buildings."
"Edward," he corrected, chuckling. "First, lunch. You must be starving after that car ride. Then I've got a summit—financial meeting, boring stuff. You can play bodyguard, keep me from falling asleep."
"Lunch?" Her brow furrowed, then lit up. "Food's good. But a summit? Sounds like a council meeting. You sure you're not a daimyo in disguise?"
He laughed, the sound easing the tension of the morning's meeting with Colonel Marsden. The head of security's probing about Tsunade's sudden role as "Tsu Sendo, ex-special forces" still lingered, a reminder of the tightrope they walked. Edward's title and financial power made him a target, and Tsunade's lack of identity was a glaring risk. But here, with her teasing and the city's hum, he felt… free.
They pulled up to The Ritz, a 5-star hotel and restaurant on Piccadilly, its neoclassical facade glowing in the sunlight. Tsunade's jaw dropped as they stepped out, her eyes roving over the columns, gold accents, and liveried doormen. "This is a restaurant?" she asked, incredulous. "Looks like a palace."
"Best in London," Edward said, handing his keys to the valet. "Come on, I booked a private room. Less chance of anyone asking questions."
Inside, the Ritz was a vision of opulence: crystal chandeliers, velvet drapes, and marble floors. Tsunade's boots echoed as she followed Edward, her shinobi instincts scanning the bustling lobby—waiters gliding, guests in tailored suits, the clink of champagne glasses. She leaned close, whispering, "This place screams money. You sure you're not showing off, prince?"
"Maybe a little," he admitted, flashing a grin. "But you deserve a proper meal after falling through a void rift."
The private dining room was intimate, with a mahogany table, silk wallpaper, and a window overlooking Green Park. Edward pulled out a chair for Tsunade, who raised a brow but sat, her hoodie and cargo pants a stark contrast to the room's elegance. The waiter delivered menus, and Edward ordered for them—roast beef with truffle mash, seared scallops, and a side of jasmine rice, guessing Tsunade might appreciate something familiar.
When the food arrived, Tsunade stared at the array of cutlery—forks, knives, spoons in precise rows. She picked up a fork, holding it like a kunai, and frowned. "What's this for? Why not chopsticks?"
Edward stifled a laugh, leaning across the table. "It's a fork. For stabbing food, not people. Here, let me show you." He reached for her hand, his fingers brushing hers, and guided the fork to the beef. "Like this. Gentle, not a death grip."
Tsunade's hand tensed under his, her skin warm, and a strange sensation fluttered in her chest—different from the adrenaline of battle or the fear in the car. She couldn't name it, this warmth that spread when his blue-gray eyes met hers, steady and patient. "This is stupid," she muttered, but followed his lead, her movements clumsy. The fork slipped, and she cursed under her breath.
Edward chuckled, his hand lingering on hers. "You're doing fine, Tsu. Try again." He adjusted her grip, his touch firm but gentle, and guided her to cut a piece of beef. Their fingers intertwined briefly, and Tsunade's heart skipped, a sensation so foreign she froze. What was this? Not fear, not anger—just… something. Unable to solve it, she shook it off and stabbed the beef, popping it into her mouth.
"Better," Edward said, releasing her hand and leaning back. He watched her eat, amused by her enthusiasm. The food was exquisite, and Tsunade attacked it with shinobi vigor, savoring the rich flavors.
"This is amazing," she said between bites of rice. "Better than anything in the Leaf. What's in this?"
"Truffles, probably," Edward said, sipping his wine. "Glad you like it."
She grinned, rice clinging to her cheek. Edward hesitated, then reached out, his fingers brushing her face as he gently wiped the grain away. "You've got a little…" he said, his voice soft.
Tsunade's face flushed crimson, her amber eyes wide. The touch, so simple, sent that strange warmth surging again, and she looked away, muttering, "Thanks." Her heart raced, and she shoveled more rice to hide her embarrassment, while Edward's own pulse quickened. Her blush, rare and unguarded, was… captivating.
They finished lunch, Tsunade declaring the meal "worthy of a Hokage," and Edward paid, leaving a generous tip. As they exited the Ritz, he said, "I'll grab the car. Wait here, okay? Won't be a minute."
Tsunade nodded, leaning against a column by the entrance, her hoodie blending with the crowd but her beauty standing out. The afternoon sun gilded her hair, and her confident stance drew eyes. Edward jogged to the valet, his mind lingering on her blush, that fleeting moment of connection. But as he waited for the Ferrari, a prickle of unease hit him—his instincts, honed by years as a royal target, sensed trouble.
At the entrance, three young men in flashy jackets approached Tsunade, their grins cocky. "Hey, beauty," the leader said, his voice slick. "You look like you're up for fun. Wanna come back for Netflix and chill?"
Tsunade blinked, her shinobi mind parsing the unfamiliar phrase. "Netflix? Chill?" she repeated, frowning. "Is that a mission?"
The guys laughed, stepping closer. "Oh, come on, love," another said, eyeing her up and down. "It's just a good time. You, us, a cozy night. What do you say?"
Her eyes narrowed, sensing their intent wasn't friendly. "Back off," she said, her voice low, a shinobi's warning. "I'm not interested."
The leader smirked, undeterred, and reached for her arm. "Don't be like that, gorgeous—"
A roar cut through the air as the Ferrari screeched to a stop, Edward leaping out, his face a mask of fury. "Get away from her," he snapped, his duke's authority sharpening his tone. He stepped between Tsunade and the men, his tall frame imposing despite his casual sweater. "Now."
The leader scoffed, but Edward's glare—backed by the weight of royalty and a lifetime of command—made him falter. "Whoa, mate, just chatting," he muttered, raising his hands. The others backed off, sensing the shift.
Tsunade, unfazed but intrigued, crossed her arms. "I had it handled, prince," she said, though her tone held a hint of amusement.
"I know," Edward said, his eyes still on the men. "But they don't get to talk to you like that." He turned to her, softening. "You okay?"
"Fine," she said, but her gaze lingered on him, noting the protectiveness in his stance. That warmth flared again, unbidden, and she shoved it down.
The men slunk away, muttering, and Edward opened the Ferrari's passenger door. "Come on," he said, his voice gentler. "We've got a summit to survive."
Tsunade slid in, her smirk returning. "You're full of surprises, Edward. Didn't know you could scare off idiots without a crown."
He grinned, starting the engine. "Stick with me, Tsu. You'll see plenty more."
As they drove toward the summit, the city blurring past, Edward felt that cliff-edge thrill again—danger, desire, and a woman who was rewriting his world. But the encounter outside the Ritz gnawed at him. Was it just chance, or was someone watching? With Tsunade by his side, he was ready to face whatever came next.
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