((Fanart by the incredibly talented @AilaSilent on twitter!))

The hospital had changed a lot in the time since she left the village.

It was bigger, for one. What was once a single, block-like building was now a sprawling complex. Entire wings were dedicated to individual fields with both shinobi and civilian divisions. Nurses confidently used state of the art technology to treat injuries sustained during Orochimaru's attack and smiled as they escorted children to psychiatric appointments. Behind the general reception desk, a large plaque was mounted on the wall, the names and heraldry of prominent shinobi clans listed in order of the amount of money they donated to the hospital's construction and maintenance. The cubic mon of the Hatake took pride of place at the very top.

Tsunade leaned against the desk Shizune had claimed for herself, the expensive hardwood digging into her hip as she read over a medical chart. It belonged to the precious 'Lee-kun' and, though she didn't perform the boy's surgery herself, she was invested in his further recovery. Shizune was more than capable of handling even a case as severe as his, but the memory of two pleading children had Tsunade sticking her nose in as an outside advisor. If either of those brats asked her about their friend, she would at least be able to say he was on the road to recovery.

He'd probably be discharged already if he stopped trying to train in casts, but he wasn't her patient.

The door to the office flew open and she looked up to see Jiraiya rushing in, eyes wide and—.

Tsunade looked away, closing her eyes as her muscles seized. She started breathing through her mouth, careful to keep the scent of the blood on her teammate's hands from sending her into catatonia.

"I'm sorry, Hime," Jiraiya said, his voice shaking like she hadn't heard in decades. "I wouldn't ask this of you if there was another way."

Tsunade's heart stuttered in her chest. She kept her eyes closed and regulated her breathing. "What happened?"

She could feel the heat radiating off the taller man's body as he stepped closer to her. "Hime, it's Chibi-chan. Suna's jinchuriki brought her back and she's—." He cut himself off and she opened her eyes despite her fear. Her old friend had aged in the hours since their shared breakfast. The wrinkles around his eyes were deeper, the corners of his mouth turned down in a bereaved frown. His dark eyes met hers and his voice was hoarse as he spoke. "Hime, she's hurt really bad."

An image of the little girl who'd so skillfully manipulated her into coming back to the village came to the forefront of her mind. Jiraiya took her kidnapping hard, blaming himself for not recognizing Orochimaru's cronies for what they were, but there wasn't much they could do but wait. In the wake of invasion, shinobi of their caliber couldn't be spared. He made such a big show of not wanting children, but the instant his grandchild was threatened he turned into the very epitome of a doting grandfather.

It was only a day. How had she managed to injure herself bad enough to need emergency care? Didn't Orochimaru need her alive?

"Hime." A muscle in Jiraiya's jaw ticked. "Please."

What was she supposed to do? He didn't expect her to get involved, did he? She could barely breathe in the same room as his bloody hands, how was she supposed to perform an emergency operation?

"Jiraiya, I can't. Shizune is more than capable—."

"Shizune is already there," he said grimly. "But she can't—I don't know her, Hime. That's my kid bleeding out on the floor out there. The last time I saw her I—." He cut himself off, sucking in a deep, shuddering breath. There were tears in his eyes, she realized, the cheerful façade stripped away to reveal a haggard old man. "Please, Hime," he all but whispered, dark eyes boring into her soul as he begged her. "I'll never ask you for anything again. You can leave the village again right after and I won't chase you down. Just...please save my kid."

She was tempted to remind him that he didn't even like 'his kid'. Manipulation aside, their personalities were clearly polar opposites of each other and, as hilarious as it was to watch them bicker on the way back to the village, that didn't make it any easier to bridge the gap between them. While he may feel guilty about what he said to her now that she was injured and possibly dying, he hadn't actually said anything wrong. The words caught in her throat, though. She couldn't muster her usual bite when he looked so miserable.

"I don't know what you expect me to do," she said honestly, reaching up to lay her palm against the side of his weathered face. "I won't be any use. You know that."

"I'll go with you," he said quietly, leaning into her touch. "I need you to be there, Hime. I can't trust anyone else."

As flattering as that was, she had to look away from his sincerity. She didn't want to go. Even now, the smell of blood in the air threatened to send her to her knees. Only Jiraiya's steadying presence kept her on her feet. There was no way she would be any help in a working operation room.

An idea struck her.

"Which room are they taking her to?"

"I don't know. I came to get you the instant they took her away."

She gave him a Look™ and turned away, picking up a thin paper booklet from Shizune's desk and flipping through the pages. There!

"There's an operating sphere with an observation deck," she said, reaching behind her to hand Jiraiya the booklet. "If we go there, I'll be on standby without having to worry about passing out." She rushed past him out the door and into the hallway. "Wash your hands," she called out behind her. "I'll meet you there."

The hospital was abuzz with activity, nurses, cleaning personnel, and shinobi all rushing through the halls like ants in a colony. Their panic was both palpable and perfectly warranted. The new Hokage's only child was critically injured. Again. Tsunade unconsciously gripped her grandfather's necklace, the crystals digging into her palm.

The hat was cursed.

She hailed a tired looking nurse, the younger woman looking at her with thinly concealed awe.

"Hanako Hatake is to be taken to theater D-23 immediately."

Rather than immediately running to comply, as Tsunade expected, the nurse regarded her sternly. "State your shinobi ID."

"002302," she recited crossly, the numbers rolling off her tongue with practiced ease despite the decades since she last used them. "Do you know who I am? This is an emergency."

The nurse looked decidedly unimpressed. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but your ID does not meet hospital regulation. I'm going to have to ask you to return to the lobby as this area is off limits for non-staff personnel."

Tsunade stared at the other woman, eyes wide with offense. "Excuse me?"

"I know who you are," the nurse continued. "And it is a great honor to have you here. However, you cannot expect anyone in this hospital to take orders from you. You are not a member of staff, nor are you an active duty shinobi. I'm afraid you will need to apply for a change in ID number if you want to step out of retirement."

Retirement? Since when—?

Sarutobi. It had to be. She hadn't even considered why no one bat an eye at her return. Clearly, they had no idea she'd actually deserted. She could understand his decision to hide it given the serious blow to morale it would have been, but still. She wasn't entirely sure being retired made her life any less complicated than being a deserter.

"Thank you for your diligence," a familiar voice interjected before Tsunade could show the insulant nurse just how deserved her reputation was. "I will vouch for her. Please, do as she says."

The nurse bowed hastily. "Yes, Hokage-sama."

Tsunade raised an eyebrow at Kakashi as he came to stand beside her. He looked...tired. Very tired. He wasn't wearing the Hokage robes and hat, but he was so recognizable he likely didn't need it. His one visible eye was trained on the floor, staring at the red trails of blood that had been haphazardly mopped away. There were shadows in that eye, a manilayered sorrow and resignation that resonated in Tsunade's memory, conjuring a half buried memory of another man with silver hair and despondent grey eyes.

"I'll do my best to observe," she told him, watching grimly as her voice pulled him from whatever haunted reverie had occupied him. "I've taught Shizune everything I know, so you know she'll be in the most capable hands."

His eye closed in that sickeningly sweet fake smile of his. "Of course, Tsunade-hime," his voice cracked so slightly, she almost didn't notice. "Shall we go?"

He led the way through the bustling hospital, clearly familiar with its layout. Though he maintained his iconic slouch, one hand in a pocket, his pace was much faster than his normal amble. Tsunade's trained eyes picked out the tension in his shoulders and the furrow of his brow. She'd taken the time to read through Hanako and her mother's—Ochaco? Rin?—file. Of all the people to take her in, she never would have put her money on him. But, then, that's probably why he got the job. No one would expect Kakashi to have a child, let alone adopt one as suspicious as Hanako. Kakashi's past and reputation provided the perfect cover.

Of course, it was that very same past and reputation which had him latching onto the girl like she could solve all his problems. From what she'd seen so far, Tsunade could safely say that, while being a parent had certainly solved some of them, it had also created some new ones.

Kakashi pushed the door to the observation deck open, hurrying to the glass separating him from his daughter. Tsunade watched him freeze, every muscle tightening in a visceral response to whatever was down there, and she made the executive decision not to look.

Still, she'd promised to observe.

"Kakashi," she said gently, coming to stand nearby without touching him. He was radiating pent up energy, his chakra lashing out at the air around him like a storm waiting to break. If she wasn't careful, she would be on the receiving end of a very nasty zap. "I need you to describe what's happening for me. Can you do that?"

For a long, tense moment, his ragged breathing was the only sound on the observation deck. She watched as he swallowed several times, his Adam's Apple bobbing. When he did speak, his voice was faint and small and she was suddenly reminded of a tiny little boy who'd seen his father as no child should.

"There's a hole in her chest."

Tsunade glanced away from his face as Jiraiya stepped through the door, his bloody clothing traded for a set of scrubs that were one size too small. She turned her attention back to Kakashi.

"And? How do her vitals look? Can you see them from here?"

Wordlessly, he reached up and exposed his sharingan, the tomoe already spinning. "They're blank."

What?

Tsunade barely resisted the urge to turn around and look for herself. Jiraiya was now standing on her other side, his lips pressed together in a grim line as he looked down at the operation.

"He's right," he said lowly. "There aren't any machines down there."

That couldn't be right. "How are they measuring her vitals then? Shizune is supposed to be overseeing this surgery."

She looked up at Jiraiya expectantly, refusing to believe the conclusion those clues had drawn her to. His dark eyes were weary as they met hers.

"Hime," he began slowly, carefully. "She was hurt really bad."

Was. She was hurt.

"No. You're lying."

Was that her voice? She could barely recognize it, though she agreed with it. There was no way that little girl with the Senju markings—her family's markings—belonged in the past tense.

"That sand boy is really upset," he continued, running a hand down his face like the old man he was. "He did his best to get her here, but—."

Kakashi's breath hitched and the two Sannin turned Council turned to look at him. His one red eye was focused on something down below. Tsunade could practically hear the tomoe turning.

"The hole," he whispered roughly. "The hole is closing."

Both Tsunade and Jiraiya turned around, pressing their faces to the glass, the former recoiling as she realized her body had moved in its own. On the operating table down below, a small, undressed figure lay motionless. Intricate tattoos stood out against the pale, pale skin they marked, winding in twists and swirls not unlike the markings which adorned the walls of old Uzushio. There was a gaping hole in her chest, the silver of the operation table visible through it. There were no machines, like Kakashi said, and Shizune was speaking to someone in scrubs, their words obscured by the sanitary masks on their faces. One didn't need medical training to know the child was dead.

She didn't have a sharingan, but she only had to wait a few seconds before the bloody mass that was her little cousin's chest began to move. Smooth, tattooed skin began to stretch over the opening, muscle knitting itself back together. The medical personnel by her side all began to scramble, rushing like ants to gather equipment and cast the jutsus necessary to record the never before seen phenomenon. Tsunade bit her lip, her mouth filled with the coppery sweet taste of blood. Shizune was not prepared for something like this, none of them were.

She had to get down there.

Leaving the two men behind, she steeled her heart and mind for her first operation since her defection.

🐶🐶🐶

Plink. Plink. Plink.

The slow and steady drip of water from somewhere high up into the puddle by her feet was the only sound in the cell. Yachiru buried her face into her knees, desperately straining her ears for any sign of movement beyond the heavy door that trapped her. Of course, the thing didn't make noise. It didn't walk. It just sank into the ground and popped back up where ever it wanted, quiet as a mouse. Quieter, because sometime mice squeaked. Still, she did her best to listen, because her eyes didn't work anymore.

That evil monster did something to them, something owie. When she opened them, it felt like a bajillion needles were stabbing them—at the same time! It was horrible. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go home and see mama and papa and dolly. Why did the evil monster take her away? Evil monsters were supposed to only kidnap princesses, right?

Was she a secret princess? Was that why papa was always gone? Did he have a kingdom he was running? Was the evil monster his arch nemenesis?

These were all interesting questions, but Yachiru knew in her heart of hearts she would probably never get to ask them. In the stories, princesses were always rescued by princes and her parents were never mentioned again. She just...became a wife.

Yachiru wasn't sure she wanted to be a wife. Her mama was a wife, and she didn't seem very happy...that was papa's fault, though. If Yachiru found someone better than papa, then maybe...

No, papa was already the best. There was no way she could ever find someone better than him.

So, she'd just never be a wife. She'd be monster food, instead.

Her tummy rumbled, protesting its emptiness for the gajillionth time. The monster might not eat her after all, unless he liked his humans skinny. Skinny bunnies were yucky, so she couldn't imagine a skinny human tasting any better. But...

If he wasn't gonna eat her, then why did he kidnap her?

Her eyes stung as she rubbed them, tears streaming down her face. Whatever the monster had done to her had made them suuuper itchy and she hated it. She wanted to wash her face, but the drippy puddle was the only water and her mama told her to never drink random water from the ground unless it was a biiig river.

She missed her mama.

The unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed outside the door and her mind instantly cleared. Was it the monster? Had to be. She'd been here forever and the monster was the only person she saw—if she could call him a person. She pulled her knees even closer to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. She was already really little, according to her papa, so maybe, if she got small enough, the monster wouldn't notice her.

Bang!

Something hit the door, hard. Yachiru pushed her back against the wall, hoping it would open up and she would fall out in the meadow outside her mama's house. Everything would be better if she could just get to her mama's house.

Bang! Bang!

Her heart was thundering in her chest. The monster had never done something like this before. Was he trying something new? Had he changed his mind about keeping her alive? She knew it was a mistake. He thought she was a princess and now that he knew she wasn't he was gonna kill her!

"Yachiru," a familiar voice hissed from the other side of the door. "Can you hear me?"

"Mama?"

"Yes, it's me, baby. I need you to stay away from the door, ok? Can you promise you'll stay as far away as you can?"

The fear that threatened to consume her had transformed into a brilliant ray of hope. She nodded even though her mother couldn't see her. "I promise, mama."

With one last hit, the door fell inward, dust flying everywhere. Yachiru coughed, but the sound was smothered by her mother's warm embrace. Familiar fingers carded through her curly hair and kisses were pressed to her dirty face.

"Moh, Yachiru," her mother whispered breathlessly. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Yachiru clung to her mother's clothes, inhaling the familiar scent of daisies. "I missed you, mama."

Her mother picked her up easily, cradling her like a baby. Normally, Yachiru hated being carried by her mama. She wasn't a baby, after all. Now, though, she just snuggled even closer to her favorite human.

Her mother reciprocated, holding her tightly as though she could somehow swallow up her daughter through the power of hugs alone. "Let's get you out of here."

Yachiru's mama carried her down a long hallway, her footsteps echoing weirdly. There was a small light of curiosity burning inside her as they went. She'd never seen anything outside the room she was kept in. The monster always came up through the floor or through a wall, ouchy 'medicine' for her eyes in his hands. A small part of her kind of wanted to see the rest of the building, but she didn't indulge it. She was more than content to simply be rescued.

Still, she couldn't help but lift her head up from her mother's shoulder. One little peek wouldn't hurt, right? She braved the pain and lifted her eyelids.

An eye, as round and yellow as a gold coin, stared back at her, the inky black skin of the face it was set in blending in with the shadows of the corridor. The other eye was significantly more human, set in a face of brilliant white. Two halves of different people were smooshed together into one horrible monster. It smiled at her. A scream tore its way out of Yachiru's throat and her mother whirled into action with a swiftness she'd never seen. Needles went flying at the monster but it dodged them easily.

Yachiru found herself on the floor behind her mother, the older woman crouched low as she faced her opponent.

"Tch," the black face said. "I knew we should have dealt with this one first."