SpoilerRecklessDawn

  [colpse]When you're a soldier—or even when you're not—it's easy to fall into routine. The rhythm of daily life, the small, repetitive motions, can be oddly comforting, a way to anchor yourself in the present.

  That's why Ryoji found himself in his kitchen, slicing tomatoes. The steady glide of the knife, the faint scent of fresh produce, the soft sound of each slice meeting the cutting board—it was a simple act, but in that moment, it gave him something familiar to hold onto.

  He couldn't help but ponder the existence of the fruit. After all, on Earth, tomatoes—and many other pnts—hadn’t always been a part of European or Japanese cuisine. They were introduced to Europe in the early 16th century, brought from the Americas by Spanish explorers, and didn’t make their way to Japan until the 17th or 18th century, likely through trade with the Portuguese or Dutch.

  It was strange to think that something so common now had once been foreign, unfamiliar, even suspect. Yet here he was, slicing one without a second thought, as if it had always belonged.

  This thought shook him. The idea that something as ordinary as a tomato had once been an alien presence in certain parts of the world made him reflect on just how much the world around him had changed—or rather, how different it was from the Earth he knew.

  After all, he now lived in a world where ninja could walk on walls as easily as they breathed, where beasts the size of small skyscrapers were sealed inside petite redheads. Hell, his own mother, Tsunade, could very likely rip an aircraft carrier in half with her bare hands. And him? With his Mokuton, he could regrow entire forests from nothing, bending nature itself to his will.

  It was absurd, really. The contrast between the mundane and the extraordinary was almost comical. A simple fruit had made him question the very fabric of his reality.

  He began to chuckle, the sheer absurdity of his thoughts amusing him. Across the room, his twin sister, Himari, looked up, finding his sudden ughter unsettling.

  "Oppa? What's funny?" she asked, her tone wary.

  When they were younger, he had taught her Korean, disguising it as an invented nguage only the two of them shared. It had started as a game, but over time, it became their private code, something just for them.

  "Just the absurdity of life," he replied with a smirk, shaking his head.

  The kitchen was a warm, familiar space, and in the corner sat a well-worn table. Gathered around it were Himari, their mother Tsunade, and Ryoji’s fiancée, Miyuki Uchiha. Their reactions to the twins' exchange were as predictable as ever.

  Tsunade let out an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes in mild annoyance. She made a mental note—again—to learn the nguage her children spoke in front of her. Meanwhile, Miyuki simply raised a delicate eyebrow as she sipped her tea, her expression unreadable.

  But beneath that cool exterior, love burned in her gaze as she watched Ryoji. He had accepted her, despite her heritage, despite the weight of her cn’s name. It wasn’t lost on her how rare that was. Sure, he had… certain dominant tastes, but she had long since decided to serve him. And truthfully? She wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Ryoji smiled as he gnced at Miyuki, warmth spreading through him at the love and devotion reflected in her eyes. For a brief moment, time seemed to slow between them, an unspoken understanding passing in the quiet kitchen. Then, with a contented sigh, he turned back to the tomatoes he had just sliced, carefully arranging them on the cutting board.

  Steam curled into the air as Ryoji Senju stirred the simmering pot, the rich aroma of tomatoes, garlic, and herbs filling the modest kitchen. He worked with practiced ease, his hands moving instinctively as he crushed a handful of dried basil between his fingers, letting the fkes fall into the bubbling sauce. The scent reminded him of home—not this home, not the Senju compound, but a distant memory that only he carried.

  He lifted a wooden spoon and tasted the sauce, humming in approval. The acidity of the tomatoes had mellowed, blending seamlessly with the olive oil and slow-cooked onions. It wasn’t exactly the same as he remembered, but it was close—close enough.

  Behind him, a pot of water rolled to a boil, and he reached for the fresh noodles he had prepared earlier. "Kagetsu-style sauce," he had decided to call it, after a long-forgotten name from another life. He smirked to himself as he dropped the noodles into the water, stirring gently. If anyone ever asked, he would say it was a recipe passed down through the generations—a little lie wrapped in nostalgia.

  Miyuki sat gracefully at the kitchen table, her posture composed as she sipped her tea. Across from her, Tsunade and Himari chatted idly, but her attention remained on Ryoji as he worked. After a moment, she set her cup down with deliberate care and spoke, her tone measured yet curious. "You have a talent for creating the most unusual dishes," she observed.

  Ryoji chuckled, giving the pot one st stir before gncing over his shoulder. "Just something I put together," he said lightly, though the truth was far more complicated. Miyuki met his gaze with quiet interest, her expression unreadable, yet he could sense the unspoken questions behind her words.

  Turning back to his work, he focused on the sauce as it thickened, the rich aroma filling the kitchen. It wasn’t the grand jutsu of his cn, nor the legacy of the Senju name—but here, in the warmth of his kitchen, Ryoji was crafting something entirely his own.

  Steam curled from the pot as Ryoji stirred the simmering sauce, the rich aroma of tomatoes and herbs filling the kitchen. He worked with ease, the rhythmic motions of chopping, stirring, and tasting as natural as any kata he had learned in training. Across the room, Tsunade sat at the kitchen table, rubbing her temples while Miyuki and Himari listened in silence.

  "I need you to cover for me as Cn Head while I’m on this mission," Ryoji said, not looking up from his work. His tone was even, but there was no mistaking the weight behind his words.

  Tsunade sighed, shaking her head. "I can’t. The hospital is swamped. We’ve got shinobi coming in non-stop, and I don’t have enough hands to manage everything." She gnced toward the pot, as if debating whether stealing a taste would ease her growing headache.

  Ryoji exhaled through his nose, grabbing a dle and giving the sauce another stir. He had expected as much, but that didn’t make things any easier. The elders would never accept Miyuki—his fiancée, yes, but still an Uchiha—acting as head in his absence. They would demand a Senju, no matter how young or inexperienced.

  He finally turned, gncing toward the table where Miyuki sat, composed as always, her fingers resting lightly against the rim of her teacup. Her expression was unreadable, but he knew her well enough to catch the sharp focus in her gaze. Himari, by contrast, looked less than pleased, arms crossed, already bracing for the inevitable.

  "The elders won’t like it, but they’ll have to deal with it," Ryoji said, turning back to his sauce. "Miyuki and Himari will take over while I’m gone."

  Himari let out a dramatic sigh. "Great. Babysitting a bunch of old men while you get to go on a mission. Lucky you."

  Miyuki shot her a sharp look but remained silent, merely inclining her head in quiet acceptance.

  Tsunade rubbed her forehead, exhausted. "Fine. I’ll make it official. Just try not to start a civil war while he’s gone."

  Ryoji smirked, pting the finished dish with a practiced hand. "No promises."

  [Break]

  One year prior to this wonderful scene, a different headache brewed for poor Tsunade. This a direct cause of the above.

  Tsunade pressed her fingers against her temples, eyes shut, as the steady throb in her skull intensified. She had dealt with battlefield injuries, chakra exhaustion, and even politicians—yet nothing, nothing compared to the migraine that was Ryoji Senju.

  Seated across from her, the twelve-year-old prodigy sat comfortably in the chair, completely at ease as he sipped the tea he had made himself in her office. His golden eyes gleamed with quiet amusement, utterly unfazed by the weight of the conversation.

  "Let me get this straight," she said, voice dangerously calm. "At twelve years old, you—an academy fresh genin—have single-handedly caused a popution boom in multiple nations, revolutionized contraceptives, and created a seal that permanently eliminates period pain?"

  Ryoji took another sip of tea. "Yes."

  Tsunade exhaled sharply through her nose, willing herself not to throw the nearest medical chart at his head. "And you didn’t think to run these by me first?"

  "I did," he said smoothly, setting his cup down. "You were busy."

  Her eye twitched. "That’s not an excuse, Ryoji."

  He shrugged. "Then let’s go over them again. You already know about the first one—"

  "The Void Passage Seal." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "You invented a seal to teleport semen away so you don’t accidentally knock up Miyuki in your... nightly exercise. That’s what you’re telling me."

  She couldn't bring herself to think of her son having sex. She wished it was because she was his mother, not jealousy that another woman could have him in her, but she couldn't.

  "Correct," he said, completely unbothered. "You know the elders are breathing down my neck about an heir. I’m not having kids before I’m twenty. This guarantees that."

  Tsunade opened her mouth, then closed it. That... actually made sense. She hated that it made sense.

  She took a slow breath. "And the Harmony Seal?"

  "That one was for you," Ryoji said, and for once, there was no teasing in his tone. "I saw how bad your cramps were, so I made a seal that helps regute the pain, removes the blood the same way as the first seal, and stabilizes the hormones so it’s easier to manage." He gestured zily toward the cup in her hands. "You’ve been using it for two months."

  Tsunade stiffened. "...Wait. That’s why my cycles have been so much easier?"

  "Yes," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And it benefits Miyuki and Himari too, so win-win."

  Tsunade stared at him. On the one hand, it was insanely practical—arguably one of the most useful medical applications of Fuinjutsu she’d ever heard of. On the other hand, the fact that a twelve-year-old had designed it was sending her straight into a breakdown.

  She dragged a hand down her face. "Okay. Fine. That one gets a pass."

  Ryoji smirked. "I figured you’d say that."

  Tsunade took another slow sip of tea, trying to mentally prepare herself for the worst. "Now tell me about the Vitality Seal—the one that caused this headache."

  Ryoji cleared his throat. "That was an accident."

  Tsunade slowly lowered her cup. "An accident?"

  "Yes."

  She gave him a ft stare. "Ryoji. Expin."

  He leaned back in his chair, as if contempting his words. "Well, I was originally experimenting with a seal that enhances chakra circution for general health benefits. Turns out, when applied in certain locations… it, uh… boosts reproductive viability a little too well."

  Tsunade’s grip on her cup tightened. "How well?"

  "So well that it’s single-handedly responsible for a sharp increase in birth rates across multiple nations," he admitted. "Also, I may have already sold it to several noble families, cn heads, and merchants."

  Silence.

  Tsunade inhaled. Then exhaled. Then stood up so fast her chair nearly tipped over.

  "Ryoji."

  "Yes?"

  "Get. Out."

  He blinked. "But—"

  "OUT!"

  Ryoji swiftly stood, grabbed his tea, and headed for the door. Just as he reached the threshold, he paused and gnced back.

  "Oh, by the way, you should probably expect a request for more of those fertility seals soon. The Fire Daimyo’s wife is expecting twins."

  A paperweight flew past his head as he closed the door behind him.

  Tsunade groaned, colpsing into her chair, rubbing her temples furiously. "I need a drink."

  [Break]

  Ryoji stared at Tsunade’s closed office door for a moment, exhaling slowly. Probably a good thing she didn’t ask where the fluids actually went.

  He smirked to himself and started walking, hands casually tucked into his pockets. Some secrets were best left unexpined.

  Meanwhile, in a hidden Root facility…

  Danzo Shimura was seething. His fingers curled tightly around the edge of his desk, jaw clenched as he stared at the test incident.

  A fresh sptter of semen and menstrual blood had appeared on his robes out of nowhere. Again.

  His remaining eye twitched violently. His grip on his temper—already fraying after months of this absurd torment—was hanging by a thread.

  He had no idea where it was coming from. No Fūinjutsu expert, no sensor-nin, no Root operative could trace the source. He had tried burning his clothes. He had tried **exorcisms**. He had even considered sealing **himself** just to stop whatever vile curse had been pced on him.

  But nothing worked.

  No enemy had ever humiliated him like this before. No assassin, no traitor, no foreign spy.

  He, Danzo Shimura, the Darkness of the Shinobi World, was being pgued by mystery reproductive fluids on a near-daily basis.

  His eye narrowed in suspicion.

  Somewhere, somehow, someone would pay for this.

  On his way home, Ryoji sneezed.

  RecklessDawn