Standard Disclaimers: I own nothing of Naruto and am making no money from this. This piece assumes that Tsunade left the village before Orochimaru was kicked out and that she was old enough to remember the first Hokage.

It was raining out and Tsunade wasn't pleased with the sound of it. It flecked against her peace of mind, like a thousand little pellets flung by taunting school boys. Then again, she wasn't pleased with much of anything right about now. Tsunade, Fifth Hokage of Konoha, granddaughter of the First Hokage, Slug-Princess, and Sannin, was drunk.

But not as drunk as she wanted to be and it was just her third day in office.

It was hard to believe it had been less than a week and not a life time since she'd re-entered the gates of Konoha with an old friend and a persistent little boy. Sure, at the time she'd taken the title and responsibilities of Hokage with a smile and glowing confidence. She was home and for the first time in a long time that made her remember the good things in her past instead of the bad.

And even if things had changed in the village while she'd been gone she was in quite an enviable position to adjust things to suit her now, wasn't she? The Hokage had power and if there was one thing Tsunade understood, it was flexing power.

Except, the joys of butting into things, arranging the office to suit her (while privately saying goodbye to her old sensei), and stretching wings that had been so long clipped by her grief, seemed to be wavering under the glaring light of sobriety and the knowledge of what was at stake.

She was the Legendary Sucker. Her luck was notoriously and predictably horrible. So how could she possibly bet the future of the Leaf on her ability to guide them? It was a recipe for disaster and the endless possibilities of how things could go wrong rolled together in her mind. She'd sought out the solitude of her office to wrap her head around it, but the rain was no help at all. The village sprawled out beyond her window just sat there, expectantly.

There was a flicker behind her, reflected in the glass.

She whirled, eyes blazing and feet shifting immediately to a defensive stance. There was only one acceptable explanation why someone would be using Shunshin no Jutsu to invade her office at this time of night. "This had /better/ be an assassination attempt, damn it!"

Unfortunately, while it was a member of the Special Assassination and Tactical Squad standing in the middle of her office, it was obviously a Konoha one. The ceramic white of the cat's mask he wore nearly glowed in the half light as he stared at her.

"What?" she snapped, flustered and frustrated.

"Forgive me, Lady Hokage," the man said, "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Well, you did. There is a door right there. It's meant to be used!" Tsunade's cheeks burned. She'd be damned if people were going to be flickering in and out of her office without any notice. Maybe Sarutobi had allowed it, but this was supposed to be her place and she'd carve her name into it with her fingernails if she had to, council and doubters be damned.

"I'm sorry," the man bowed slightly but only slightly. Tsunade's eyes narrowed and she drew a sharp breath. She supposed it was a good thing that the blood he was so liberally splattered in was not the first thing she had noticed. His vest was soaked and there were several large blotches on his pants. "I wanted to turn in my report and the light was out. I assumed that…"

"You assumed incorrectly," she cut him off, only half listening to his reasons. The timbre of his voice was oddly familiar, almost reassuring on some visceral level that she couldn't quite understand. Very soothing, in fact. But, he was ANBU. More than that, he was Leaf ANBU. Tsunade felt a surge of pride. Of course such a man would speak calmly and clearly to his Hokage even if he were bleeding out.

Fools.

Well, there was no time like the present to make sure the last of her hemophobia was taken care of, was there?

"…apologies. I'll leave the report on your assistant's desk in the morning."

She gestured, "Toss it on the desk and come here. Take off your mask."

To his credit, there was only a nearly imperceptible hitch to his step to indicate his surprise at the second command. There was no hesitation to obeying and he set the report down before he turned to face her.

The mask gave no indication of his emotion or intentions as he loomed over her for a brief moment. He was ANBU. The scent of sweat, of someone else's fear and death, was soaked into his hair and clothing and for the moment it defined him.

The predatory impression, calculating and inhumanly patient, lasted only as long as it took him to lift the cat's mask from his face. Once it was gone, there was only a man standing there, almond shaped eyes and pallor nearly gray with exhaustion.

Still, it was the man and not the mask that caused Tsunade's heart to leap into her throat and her to stumble back a step as if she'd been struck.

"…who are you?" she demanded, voice shaking. She searched his face but found nothing but impossible resemblance.

"Tenzo, Lady Hokage."

The name meant nothing to her. The speaking of it, in a voice that she now fully recognized, did nothing to erase the shock either. She'd been very young when her grandfather had died but that didn't mean that she did not remember him. His face and image had never been allowed to fade in her memory. Not in the village he created, not among the people who loved him.

And despite short hair, a face mask that hid the angles of his cheekbones and fabric that broke the line of his jaw, this man's resemblance to her grandfather was unmistakable. Uncanny.

But it wasn't her grandfather. There were differences, subtle though they were. And besides, her grandfather was dead. Yes. Of course. How foolish. But… who was this? To even imagine the first Hokage being unfaithful to his wife was insane, but time with Jiraiya as a teammate made many insanities seem probable.

"Who are your parents?" she demanded, harshly.

There was wariness in his eyes now. Of the question. Of her. "I don't know, my lady. I never knew them." The words were stiff and for a moment it seemed he would leave them that way. However, he continued, tone still calm, "It's guessed that I was taken from them as a baby by Orochimaru for his experiments."

She stared at him. She'd heard, of course, that Orochimaru had been conducting illegal experiments in the village. She'd left the village before that information had seen the light of day but she knew that the Sandaime had thrown him out because of it. Shizune had been the one to relay all of this, including the fact that some of those experiments had something to do with her grandfather's DNA. Though, if she recalled correctly, they hadn't thought any of the children would survive.

She hadn't wanted to know more and she'd forbidden Shizune from talking about it again.

"Some of the experiments survived?" she blurted out the obvious, still processing what this meant.

The ANBU's expressive eyes flickered. "Only one. Lady Hokage."

"How are you… why…?" She cut her hand to the side in a sharp gesture, not even sure of the question she was asking. The ANBU said nothing, his face as perfectly still as his mask had been.

So what did that mean? What had Orochimaru done to those children? Was he even normal? He looked so much like her grandfather, it was uncanny. But what did that make him? Had Orochimaru made a monster and then had the Sandaime pressed it into service?

No, that was ridiculous. Snap out of it! Anger and impatience burned away the disbelief and burgeoning horror on her face. Anger, yes. It was a familiar and strong place to stand. "Never mind," she said brusquely. "Thank you for your service and the report." She picked it up, partially for something to do. "You can go now."

Again, that slight bow. Then a flicker and the ANBU, the experiment, was gone.

Tsunade stood still for a moment, until she was certain she could get her breathing under control. Then she strode towards the hall and flung her door open.

"SHIZUNE!"

The apartment smelled of dust and stale air. Tenzo had been away on his mission for a long time, longer in fact than had been planned. Despite that, the door still opened soundlessly as he deactivated the traps and alarms with exhausted fingers. It shut behind him just as quietly and he took a long breath.

It was all he allowed himself of relaxing. He couldn't afford to do more, just yet. There was still work to be done.

First, the shoes and wraps had to come off. Problematic, since he'd prefer to avoid bending down to unlace them. He was too filthy to sit on the bed, either, even if that didn't mean trailing mud and blood across his floor. He decided on improvisation, kicking them off after several minutes of dexterous prying and tugging and, unfortunately, some bending. Minimal though, acceptable amount of pain. Well done.

His mask and forehead protector were placed down on the side table. He'd put them away more discreetly later since he lived with no one and could count the number of visitors he received in the last six months on one hand. The important thing was that they were off and wouldn't provide a hindrance.

Now for the second goal. The shirt. His vest unhooked and fell to the ground heavily. It had absorbed a lot of the attacks against him and would need to be repaired before he went out again. He made a note of that, absently, as he pulled the clinging material of his shirt over his head. No pain. Showing pain now would be dishonorable to the whole mission. He'd been hurt much more than this before. He'd even gone without sleep for longer, too. One day, two days, three days, four…

It was nothing.

Third goal. Tend wounds.

He left the rest of his clothing in a pile in front of the door and padded towards the bathroom. The third goal began to blend into the fourth one. If he was going to patch himself up, he needed to be clean first. Washing off with a washcloth wasn't the route he would have chosen, but it worked, more or less. The repetitions of it (wet the cloth, soap the cloth, clean a patch of skin, rinse the cloth…) began to erode his resolve and slowly, very slowly, the mission began to slip away and his thoughts eased from their disciplined lines.

"Some of the experiments survived?"

He inhaled sharply and shook his head, banishing that line of thought and the wearied haze that had allowed it. Come on. Just focus a little longer. Then you can sleep yourself out.

He placed a last butterfly bandage and decided that it was good enough. Gauze was taped over the worst of the gashes and he carefully bent his head towards the sink. Shampoo on the washcloth and a half-hearted rinse would be enough for his hair for now. He'd deal with it itching in the morning if he had to.

He had his back placed against the frame of the bathroom door, spare kunai from the basket on the wall in his hand, before he consciously categorized the sound that alarmed him as a knock on his door.

It was easily three in the morning. He knew this for a fact because it was the late hour and his certainty that the Hokage would not be in that had prompted him to drop his report off at the office in the first place.

Well, that and because the report was so desperately needed, and he was so certain he'd have a hard time getting up in the morning if he had to deliver it then...

But who would be visiting him at this hour?

Realistically, who would be visiting him at all? He didn't have those types of friends. Social "friends", yes. But not… not anyone who'd come over like this.

He grabbed a towel and secured it around his hips. Then, kunai still in hand, he walked to the door. He could sense the chakra behind it but it didn't seem to be anyone he knew.

Well, there was one way to find out. He opened the door and, for the second time that night, found himself looking at a Hokage where he had not expected one to be.

"Tenzo," Tsunade said crisply, "Can I come in?"

Tsunade was of the general belief that it was not a good idea to startle an ANBU right after a mission. The mindset of a killer was not something that could always be easily put away, and hair-trigger reaction times were to be expected.

However, as she noted the openly shocked expression on the face of the young man in front of her, she felt that surprise had worked in her favor this time. He'd clearly been in the middle of cleaning himself up, hair wet and kunai held dangerously in one hand while his towel was no less safe in the other. The patterning of bruises and cuts across not only his torso but his legs rekindled the surge of almost guilt in her mind.

Well, that was part of why she'd come, wasn't it?

"I… of course, Lady Hokage…" he said finally, just before she had been about to press the matter of being left in the hall. He backed away from the door and tossed his apartment a look over his shoulder as if worried about how she'd perceive it. The normality of the gesture made the tightness around Tsunade's lips soften slightly. "Can I help you?"

She had just started to walk in when he jerked forward, reaching down to move the pile of dirty laundry that'd been left right at the door out of her way. Under any other circumstances she would have let him and probably sniffed in disdain. As it was, there were already flecks of blood staining the bandages he'd wrapped around his waist. She reached with one hand to stop him, grabbing his arm even as she intended to just walk over the clothing and on in.

He sharply froze at the gesture, muscles tightening to steel under her touch. Every alarm in her head blared as she was suddenly faced with what seemed to be an immovable object; one that Tsunade sensed tightening his grip on the kunai.

Damn.

Her gaze flew to his face, trying to quickly determine just how badly she'd misread his calm and whether she'd have to punch him through a wall any time soon.

Dark eyes met hers, focused and wary.

And, perhaps also…helplessly confused.

A flash of a much younger man's face, equally confused though much less adept at hiding it, crossed into Tsunade's thoughts. She relaxed and smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. Fighting back the urge to murmur a slightly inane, "its okay," she patted the ANBU's arm and deliberately continued forward.

He caught himself almost immediately, shifting to the side to let her walk by. "Ah… yes," she told him. "First I wanted to apologize for earlier." She looked back over her shoulder at him, "I was rude."

That confusion grew stronger, though it remained a story told only by those nearly black eyes of his. The rest of his expression was carefully blank.

"Ah. Well, I shouldn't have entered the office without knocking," he said.

"No, you shouldn't have," she agreed. "But I shouldn't have been quite as much a shrew about it. Nor let you leave before looking you over." She gestured to him, gaze pointedly lingering on the bruises and bandages.

"I am fine, Lady Hokage," he said, "It wasn't anything serious. I would have gone to the hospital if it was."

"Call it Hokage's privilege then," she returned, tone broking no argument. "Besides, we need all Shinobi mission-ready. The hospital is over-worked as it is and I can certainly take care of a few minor patches."

He was uncertain but the logic made some sort of sense, even if it was stretched. "Hai, Lady Hokage." He looked at the bed, the only surface to sit on in the small studio and then at her.

"You can go put some pants on first," she said very dryly.

There were no ghosts lingering in Tsunade's head by that time, but if there had been they would have been thoroughly exorcized by the wide eyed blush on the young man's face as he hurried off to the bathroom.

She waited patiently, taking a moment to roam the rather spartan room. She wasn't that surprised to find he didn't have many possessions to his name. His upbringing and time among the ANBU wouldn't have encouraged it. However, there were signs that perhaps this was more habit then conscious choice. She lingered in front of a table that appeared to be molded and carved from a single beam of wood. The clean, organic lines played host to a shallow tray, perhaps two by four, and the small bonsai forest within it.

It was beautiful. Tenzo's wood jutsu must have been at least partially responsible for the intricate twists and patterns the small branches had been coaxed into, but even she could see that it must have taken even more than that to maintain and cultivate the art displayed there. She tilted her head to the side, noting an anomaly. A park bench was hidden beneath one set of boughs, perfectly scaled.

The door opened behind her and Tenzo stepped out, dressed now in a pair of loose sweat pants. "I was admiring your bonsais," Tsunade said.

"Thank you," Tenzo's expression lightened, almost to the point of a smile before he remembered to temper it.

She nodded to the bed, "Come on, then. This won't take long."

He followed her and sat down without a word. Even when she curtly told him to lie back, he didn't argue. In fact, he was compliant enough to make any medic name him an instant favorite.

Of course, compliance didn't necessarily mean that he was entirely at ease or pleased with the situation. Half-naked, just off a mission, and a beautiful woman with a stunning body putting her hands on him? Much less a beautiful woman who was now his Hokage?

No. Tenzo was not remotely at ease. He was watching her like a hawk. No, that wasn't quite right. He was watching her like a raven trusting a hawk to clean its feathers.

She wasn't without sympathy, though admittedly she might have been had it been anyone else.

Chakra flowed through her hands; powerful energy bursting with possibilities but harnessed to a single purpose. She channeled it into the exhausted man, visualizing it with an accompanying wave of warmth. It had been a long time since she'd dealt with wounds like this. Naruto's beating hardly counted since the damage level and the presence of the nine-tails had skewed matters so badly.

As a result, she took things slow. She soothed over bruises, green light like cool hands skimming across the heat of aching pain. She knit together flesh, calming his heart beat and dulling nerve endings as she did so. Then, when there was nothing left to do, she gave a last look and, just like a mother kissing a child's forehead, she took away the rest of the pain with a temporary block.

She took a deep breath and looked up to find him, just as she thought she might, still watching her.

"There," she said, raising her chin to match the business like tone of her voice, "I didn't meddle with everything, so you'll still need to get a solid twelve hours of sleep or so. Other than that, I expect to see you back in the rotation by the day after tomorrow."

She stood up and turned to walk towards the door, wondering if it was still raining outside.

"Why?" he broke the silence and there was emotion, clear but by no means simple, in the question.

Why come? Why apologize? Why heal?

…Why care?

She turned her head to the side, offering her profile, but did not meet his eyes. She didn't need to.

"Why wouldn't I?" she told him quietly, "You are a member of my…ANBU, after all."

With that, she left.