The outskirts of Konoha were quiet, far from the chatter of the market streets and training grounds where students gathered.
Kaizen exhaled softly as he rolled his shoulders. His black hair fell messily across his forehead, eyes calm and unreadable. Across from him stood Tsunade, ponytail flicking behind her as she bounced lightly on her toes. Her brow furrowed with concentration, and her hands were raised in a textbook stance—elbows tight, feet aligned perfectly.
Her posture screamed discipline.
"You're stalling," she said, a smirk forming. "Afraid the princess will knock you out?"
Kaizen smiled faintly. "More afraid you'll cry if you lose."
"I don't cry."
"Right. You punch."
"Exactly."
Without another word, she dashed forward—her movement crisp, measured, not the clumsy scramble of other children their age. Her right fist shot forward in a jab that Kaizen sidestepped, barely shifting his weight. She followed up with a short hook aimed at his ribs.
Kaizen blocked it with his elbow, but didn't counter.
He could have. He saw three openings already—her feet slightly misaligned in the second step, her weight too far forward—but he let them slide. He kept his movements simple, reactive, nothing that would scream superior experience.
Tsunade didn't notice. She grinned.
"Don't hold back."
"I'm not."
She swept low, trying to catch his legs. Kaizen jumped over it and landed smoothly, sliding one foot back to adjust. He threw a low jab toward her shoulder—not hard enough to hurt, but fast enough to keep her sharp.
Tsunade blocked it easily.
"Good," she said, breath rising slightly. "Again!"
This time, she struck with a palm to his chest, then twisted her body into a spinning backfist that nearly grazed his cheek. Kaizen stepped into it instead of away, letting the momentum carry over his shoulder before pushing her gently back.
She regained her footing instantly.
She was talented. That much was obvious. It wasn't chakra control—none of them had that down yet—but it was muscle memory, drilled and refined. The Senju bloodline wasn't just a name; it carried generations of warriors, and Tsunade moved like she had inherited all of them.
Kaizen felt his heart pick up—not from fear, but from the thrill of seeing someone close to his level.
She darted in again, this time using her shoulder to feint, before snapping her leg up in a kick. Kaizen leaned back just enough to avoid it, the air brushing his nose. He let his balance shift awkwardly on purpose, giving her the illusion of control.
Tsunade caught it. She surged forward.
Her fist struck his abdomen. Not enough to hurt seriously, but enough to sting. Kaizen let out a quiet breath and stumbled back two steps.
"Yes!" she said, cheeks flushed with excitement.
Kaizen wiped imaginary dust from his lip. "Nice hit."
"You're not bad either," she said, raising her fists again. "But I'm not done."
Neither was he.
She ran at him with a flurry of quick jabs—left, right, left again, aiming to break his guard. Kaizen blocked each with the outer edges of his arms, stepping sideways in a tight circle. Her form was excellent, but she hadn't learned how to hide patterns yet. Her footwork had a rhythm—1, 2, 3—reset. He saw it. Counted it.
He could've swept her legs just now. A soft push on her leading knee would've sent her tumbling. But instead, he allowed her next punch to connect with his shoulder, stumbling back with a grunt.
"Got you again!" Tsunade beamed.
He smiled, shaking his arm as if it ached. "Yeah, you did."
She took the bait and pressed forward.
He parried her next strike, rolled into a pivot, and tapped her ankle with the side of his foot, just barely. She stumbled, but didn't fall.
Kaizen backed away, pretending to catch his breath.
"Are you tired?" Tsunade asked.
"A little."
"Then I'm finishing this!"
She lunged. A high kick, blocked. A follow-up elbow, caught. Then she faked a right and spun low to punch at his side. Kaizen delayed his reaction just long enough for her fist to land solidly against his ribs. He dropped to one knee.
She backed off slightly, surprised. "Kaizen?"
He raised a hand in surrender. "Alright. You win."
There was a moment of silence before she blinked, then broke into a victorious grin. "YES! I knew I could beat you!"
Kaizen let himself smile as he stood up, brushing dirt from his pants. His ribs didn't even really hurt. Not much, anyway. He'd let her take that win, choreographing his own defeat with precise subtlety—slipping his foot at the right time, dropping his guard just long enough to make her believe she earned it completely.
Because she needed to believe it. And maybe… a part of him needed it too.
"Don't get cocky," he said. "I might win next time."
Tsunade folded her arms smugly. "You wish. I'm gonna be the best taijutsu master ever. Just you wait!"
"Better than Might Gaisuke?"
She paused. "Who?"
Kaizen laughed quietly. "Nothing"
Tsunade frowned, but let it slide. "You're weird."
"You're strong."
"...Thanks," she said, cheeks a bit red. "You too."
The wind passed again, and the two children stood quietly in the fading light. Just two kids, far from the pressures of clan names or the expectations of a village built on blood and legacy. For a moment, they were only what they were—two friends sparring, laughing, learning.
And Kaizen, in that small moment, felt something bloom behind his calm eyes.
He would let her win again if he had to.
Because there was strength in holding back, too.