Lost lamb.
That was how Uchiha Tatsumi described himself.
He genuinely sympathized with his current predicament.
Not only had he transmigrated inexplicably into this world, but he was also burdened with a system that occasionally tried to force him into wearing women's clothing.
And now, he was headed straight into another episode of impending violence.
Who was he supposed to complain to?
Still, Uchiha Tatsumi shuffled his feet as he walked into the Senju compound.
After all, survival came first.
Maybe if he acted a little cute and innocent, Tsunade would show mercy. He was only six years old, after all.
Tatsumi walked along the stone-paved street, passing multiple wooden gates marked with the Senju clan's symbol. The Senju compound wasn't far from the Uchiha district—both were positioned near the heart of Konoha. Back in the early days of the village, perhaps this was for convenience... or maybe so Hashirama and Madara could secretly meet.
If the Uchiha compound was like a hidden fortress within the village, then the Senju compound now resembled an abandoned estate. It was eerily quiet—almost desolate.
It was ironic. The once-great Senju clan, one of the founding pillars of Konoha alongside the Uchiha, had all but faded into obscurity. Where the village flourished, the clan withered.
Tatsumi couldn't help but reflect on the fall from grace. The Senju, the legendary clan of the Warring States period, had become a footnote in the present. After the death of Nawaki (Rope Tree), the clan's decline accelerated, leaving only Tsunade as the most prominent descendant.
What exactly had happened?
When you considered the broader picture—the annihilated Uzumaki clan, the doomed Uchiha clan, the destroyed Kaguya clan from Kirigakure—none of the Sage of Six Paths' descendant clans ended well.
With a thoughtful sigh, Tatsumi arrived at Nawaki's home.
The estate was large, separated into two distinct areas. The front housed Nawaki and Tsunade, while the back garden remained a restricted zone. Tatsumi had never been back there.
He knocked politely.
No answer.
"Hello? Anyone there?" he called out.
Still no response.
Maybe Tsunade was training? Nawaki had said she wouldn't be leaving the house today.
Growing uneasy, Tatsumi tried again—this time pounding harder.
Still nothing.
Did she really go out? That didn't seem right.
Running low on patience, Tatsumi finally resorted to one of his lower-level techniques: Wall-Walking.
With a light push and a spring of his legs, he vaulted over the wall into the courtyard.
He navigated with confidence. He'd been here before on visits to Nawaki, and he knew exactly which room was Tsunade's.
Reaching her door, he knocked again. "Tsunade-sama? Are you in?"
No answer. But he could hear something now—faint, irregular... snoring?
He noticed a slightly ajar window and tiptoed over.
He was too short to see anything from outside, so he jumped and pulled himself in.
The interior was... a mess.
The living room had a luxurious golden sofa, a modest coffee table, and an ornate bookcase—though the titles were disappointing. No Medical Ninjutsu Compendium, no Secret Senju Scrolls. Just volumes like "Ten Tips for Winning Big at Poker" and "Gambling as a Way of Life."
Tatsumi's face twitched.
Then he heard it clearly.
Snoring. Deep, unrepentant snoring.
Tsunade was still asleep.
He'd been waiting outside like a fool while she snoozed off a hangover.
Irritated, he marched toward the bedroom. Just as he took a step forward—
Clink!
His foot struck an empty sake bottle, sending it clattering across the wooden floor like a bowling pin.
What the hell?!
His eye twitched. Empty bottles, scattered takeout containers, and general disarray... Was this really the room of the legendary Senju Tsunade?
Was she really only sixteen?
Not just a gambler, but also a drinker. His image of her as a graceful kunoichi shattered on the spot.
Suddenly—
"Oi... what the hell's going on out here?"
The voice came from within. Tsunade stumbled out of her room, yawning, rubbing her eyes, and completely unaware of the chaos around her.
Wearing only her pajamas, she didn't seem concerned in the slightest—though to be fair, Tatsumi was a six-year-old child.
"Didn't I tell you to come tomorrow morning?" she grumbled.
"It is noon, Tsunade-sama," Tatsumi replied, deadpan.
"What?! Crap. I overslept again... Guess I'll take a short afternoon nap to recharge—"
"..."
Eventually, after much stalling and a change of clothes, Tsunade brought him to the Senju training ground.
Tatsumi, ever the actor, put on his best innocent smile.
Tsunade smirked. "Don't bother. Cute won't work on me."
"Tsunade-sama, I can explain—"
"I don't need explanations," she interrupted. "But I will give you a chance."
"My medical ninjutsu is second to none in Konoha. I know the human body inside and out—even if I don't have the Byakugan."
"That... that doesn't sound comforting," Tatsumi muttered, backing up.
"Here's the thing. Konoha has rules. I can't kill you, but as long as you don't die, it's technically not a violation."
She smiled sweetly. "So I estimate I can stab you 30 times—non-lethally."
"..."
"Hey," she added, patting him on the head like a cat she was about to drown. "Just grit your teeth and accept the training. If you impress me today, I might let you go."
"And if I don't?" Tatsumi asked, pale-faced.
"Then maybe I push it... to 31 stabs."