Chapter Text
She spent the first weeks of her new life in a constant, consistent state of confusion, too unfocused to really process what went on around her. The shapes and colors saturating her impaired vision gradually sharpened into something resembling people, often the ones she would later recognize as her parents.
The sounds they made when they spoke were simultaneously familiar and foreign: she could recognize that she was being cooed at, for example, but the words spoken in the soft tone were foreign and their meaning eluded her.
Clarity did not come gradually. Instead, she woke one morning with the fog previously clouding her mind completely gone, as if she'd submerged her head in a near-frozen pond to revitalize herself.
Well, she certainly was awake, now. In fact, she was finally aware enough for her baby senses to become completely overwhelming in their distortion and proceeded to spend the next day projectile vomiting absolutely everywhere. She was vaguely aware of her parents carrying her out of the house at some point but only spared it thought when her nausea subsided as suddenly as it had appeared.
Opening her eyes brought her face to face with a person-shaped blob with long, brown hair and white attire. There was a flash of green there, too, though she wasn't sure if it came from the same person or from another. Either way, with the issue seemingly resolved, she was too exhausted by the whole ordeal to do anything but immediately fall asleep.
When she next woke, the illness was back in full power. She had just surrendered herself to another day of feeling like absolute shit when a spoonful of liquid was shoved into her mouth, tasting so foul it couldn't be anything but medicine.
The syrup was hard to keep down but she managed it, somehow, earning a pleased hum from her probably-mother who had fed it to her.
The nausea wasn't gone, this time, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been before. She almost cried from the sheer relief of the realization but held back, lest she worried her mother.
She spent several more days doing little more than sleeping, eating and taking the gross medicine before her mind had cleared up again.
Enough for her to realize that she was a fucking baby, because, what? How the fuck did that happen?!
She considered that she might be hallucinating, at first, or that the memories she had of another life were just daydreams. Some of the visions plaguing her mind were too vivid to fit into that mold, though.
Especially the ones surrounding her death.
So she was reborn. Okay, okay, okay. That's okay, right? She had plenty of time to figure things out before anyone would expect any adulting from her. Shit, she didn't even have to talk yet! She could do this. She could totally do this.
Except, no, she couldn't.
The world she had been reborn into looked a lot like the one she'd lived in, before. Her new birthplace was decidedly more rural, judging both by the design of her house and people's attire (or, what little of them she could make out with her shitty baby vision). The language, which she tentatively began trying to make sense of, made her pin her location to somewhere in Asia.
No issues, so far. She could stand to learn another language and her privileged upbringing in her other life would cover whatever her new family could not provide for her in terms of education.
She should've known that she'd carry her shitty luck from her past life into this one, though.
It was a day like any other that her hopes of a good life were shattered. She'd been getting better, recently, and the doses of medicine she was fed have been gradually growing smaller. Her mother finally elected to take her outside the house, carrying her bundled up form into some sort of park or a very, very big garden. She was left to crawl around on the soft green grass covering every last bit of the ground beneath, protected from the sun by the shade of absolutely gigantic trees, the fallen leaves of which she ended up playing with. There was wind on her face and she could hear water bubbling somewhere to her left.
The sheer serenity of the entire scene had her lying on her back, eyes closed, enjoying the reprieve from her normally extremely distracting senses.
Her peace was disturbed by the loud appearance of a figure that was decidedly a man's, armed to the teeth and wearing a metal chestplate. He exchanged a few curt words with her mother before bringing his hands together and disappearing into a cloud of smoke.
Or, more accurately, exploding into one.
Just as sharply as it did the first time, the world around her came into focus. From her position lying on the grass she could see, for the very first time, the worry in her mother's brown eyes. She shot a glance at her pursed lips before letting her eyes wander lower, over the beautifully embroidered traditional attire her mother donned.
She stayed in a state of shock while the woman carried her back into the house, which she could now tell was nowhere near as plain as she initially thought: there were beautiful, intricate paintings of flowers and trees on massive scrolls hanging on the walls and a pleasant scent of quality incense saturating the entire space. Most notable, however, was the altar in the room she was brought into, upon which stood a mesmerizing statue of Senju Kannon - the Thousand Armed goddess of mercy, a vision in gold that shone beautifully in the sunlight of early afternoon.
The previous assessment of her family's wealth had very obviously been very, very wrong.
Her mother did not wear a forehead protector.
Her father, who arrived at the house soon after them, did.
The two adults proceeded to converse as if nothing at all was amiss, as if their daughter had not recently been brutally murdered only to be reborn into a world perpetually plagued by war and near-unimaginable violence.
As babies are wont to do, she cried. If her parents caught on to the fact that her tantrum was, in any way, different from the ones she usually threw, they didn't show it.
Realizing that she was in the Narutoverse was not the last of it.
Her parents only ever called her Tsuna but her full name was fucking Tsunade. Senju Tsunade, probably, judging by the fact that her grandfather (who absolutely doted on her) was often referred to as “Hokage-sama”.
Being reborn as Tsunade was even more fucked up than simply being reborn into a world that she previously thought was fictional because, really? Really??? Was she so unlucky that she had to lose even the reincarnation lottery? Fuck that.
The fact that she would be not-so-gently guided to the path of a kunoichi was not one of her many qualms with her new life: the Senju, like most other shinobi clans, were patriarchal. She'd be expected to make genin, sure, but no one would push Tsunade to advance any further in the ranks. In fact, she was certain that she would be encouraged to "settle down with a nice man" picked by her parents as soon as she was of age. Ugh.
Oh, the perks of not being the clan heir. Her future brother, who she was pretty sure was supposed to die as a kid, will have no such luck.
What did irk Tsunade about her family placement was the fact that she was born, like, forty years before the main plotline of the series! She knew just enough to inevitably feel bad about it when things went south but not enough to prevent them from doing so.
Which was fantastic. Really, just fucking great.
Tsunade didn’t spend much time considering whether or not she would even be using her ill-gained knowledge; she had inevitably already changed things just by being reincarnated into this world as a key player like Tsunade. There was no point in trying to let events play out naturally and hope that the good guys still won in the end - they might not. Who knows if you can even have plot armor when a story becomes reality?
Either way, Tsunade will be interfering with fate. She’ll probably start wreaking havoc as soon as she is able, which only left the question of how.
She didn’t feel particularly inclined to follow the other Tsunade’s route. She was a different person, naturally, with different desires and ambitions, different hopes and dreams.
More than anything else, she wanted that which was denied her in her last life - peace and health and a loving family.
She’s unlikely to get any of the above if she walked the already trodden path, seeing as Tsunade was a killer-for-hire and the last scion of her entire clan.
There was no rush in figuring out how she was going to get what she wanted, though, at least not yet. Tsunade was just starting to get the hang of the local tongue and making brave attempts at walking; no one will expect her to be making life decisions in quite some time.
So, rather than dwell on the heavy, heavy burden that will likely accompany her for the rest of this life, Tsunade allowed herself to enjoy being a child.
Her parents, Hiroki and Yoko, were pretty fucking great. Hiroki often disappeared for long missions but he made sure to be present and active in the time he did spend with his daughter. He taught her how to hold onto him when sitting on his shoulders and gave her tours of the village, sometimes bringing her to the jounin headquarters to entertain his friends. He started teaching her how to swim (or rather, float) pretty early on, too, which wasn’t surprising considering they belonged to a shinobi clan. Practical skills were not something she was opposed to learning, ever.
Her mother seemed to really enjoy the whole parenting schtick, too. Senju Yoko spent countless hours softly speaking to her daughter who could understand one word out of twenty said, patiently and kindly helping her learn how to communicate. She played with Tsunade often and, oddly enough, the games were interesting: they were mainly designed to improve her dexterity, which was severely lacking at the time thanks to her chubby infant fingers. Ugh.
Her favorite people, though, were her grandpa and his brother. She felt bad about it, at first, because she didn’t want to ignore all the hard work her parents put into caring for her, but the brothers were just so fun. They did not shy away from throwing her high into the air then catching her, or taking the scenic route (read: the roofs) through the village when carrying her. Hell, they even played catch with her as the ball, once! Tsunade had literally pissed herself from laughing too hard and she had absolutely zero regrets about the whole thing, thank you.
Hashirama, who had already passed the hat to his brother at the time, had more time and energy to spare. He was very in-your-face about his adoration for his granddaughter and would often come by the house to ‘kidnap’ her unannounced. Her mother seemed to find it hilarious, judging by her secret smiles, but only ever shook her head at his shenanigans.
Tobirama, now the Second Hokage, lacked his brother’s general cheer. He never turned down an opportunity to hold her when it came by but he didn’t go out of his way to have a turn caring for her, either. He didn’t seem very… happy. The Hokage obviously found meaning and purpose in his work but she wasn’t sure if it actually brought him any joy along with it. Tobirama never smiled or laughed or joked but he never yelled or showed sadness, either. In fact, Tsunade wasn’t sure if she ever saw him showing any emotion at all.
She’d lived as an adult before, though, so she knew that it didn't necessarily mean that her granduncle was miserable. People found joy in different things and broadcasted them in different ways; she shouldn’t be comparing him to his brother in that aspect.
What Tsunade did do, however, was very insistently shower him with just a bit more affection than she did anyone else. She gestured for him to carry her whenever his hands were free and immediately snuggled into him when he complied. She fell asleep in his arms often though that part was not intentional - he was just very comfortable, she couldn’t help it.
Her first word wasn’t planned, though maybe it ought to have been. There was an outdoor clan gathering of sorts, Tsunade wasn’t sure what for, but everyone around her was celebrating. It was loud and bright and pretty rough on her senses but she didn’t want to make her parents leave too early; they deserved some reprieve, too. Rather than voice her dismay, Tsunade quietly sat in her mother’s lap while she talked to another woman about something related to child-proofing a shinobi’s house. Tsunade couldn’t follow most of the conversation but the gist of it was clear.
A loud roar of laughter drew her attention to another gathering of adults, at the center of which she could see the familiar spikes of white hair she associated with her granduncle. Realizing that he’d be much more fun to spend time with in this boring party, Tsunade began to wriggle in her mother’s arms. The woman was too engrossed in her chat, however, to notice her child’s restlessness. Tsunade groaned loudly in an attempt to draw the woman’s attention but that failed, too.
She didn’t mean to start crying but her tiny body did not process emotions well and the slightest sign of distress made her tear up. Her sobbing inevitably alerted her mother to the issue.
“Ah, it seems that Tsunade is getting tired.” She told her friend, her features twisting into something between aplogy and misery.
“It is getting late.” Agreed the other woman, an older redhead wearing a forehead protector etched with a design that was decidedly not Konoha's insignia.
Her mother brushed a strand of her long, blond hair behind her ear and nodded solemnly. “We should be going.”
That wasn’t what Tsunade wanted, though, so she began struggling in her mother’s grip again. She managed to get her hands free and raise them in the general direction of her granduncle.
“There, there.” Cooed her mother, picking her up. She quickly said her goodbyes and headed towards their home.
“Oji!” Tsunade cried out, not even registering that it was her own voice that spoke the word. “Oji!”
Her mother stopped in her tracks.
“What did you say?” She asked quietly and turned to her daughter, a hint of surprise in her dark eyes.
Tsunade's mind finally caught up to her mouth. She felt panic rise up her throat like bile but managed to push it down before it showed on her face, reassuring herself internally that her slip-up would not screw her over. She was in the age range where kids started talking, probably; she could salvage this.
Rather than try and hide her mistake Tsunade decided to roll with it: “Oji.” She repeated stubbornly, once again reaching with her arms in the same direction as before.
A soft smile split her mother’s face. “I see.” She said softly and nodded, beginning to head in the direction of the target Tsunade had set.
She didn’t praise her daughter for the accomplished feat nor did she seem upset about her first word being a demand for her uncle. She held Tsunade a little tighter as she walked, though, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Sorry to interrupt.” She began demurely, stepping into the circle of shinobi currently monopolizing the Hokage’s attention. “Tsunade asked for you to hold her.”
The man’s white brows rose but he plucked the girl from her mother's arms without complaint. “She talks?” He asked, his voice a deep rumble that reverberated where Tsunade’s cheek rested on his chest.
“She does now.” Replied her mother, mirth saturating her voice. There was something teasing in it, too, smug perhaps, but Tsunade couldn't name it without further input from her mother's expression which she currently could not see.
She chose that moment to find granduncle’s gaze, shoot him the widest grin she could muster and cheerfully say: “Oji!” as she extended her arms towards him again.
He didn’t smile; he never smiled. But there was a very obvious shifting of something in his red eyes and, like her mother before him, Tobirama held her a little tighter. “Enjoy your night, Yoko-san.” He told her mother, voice a little hoarse. “I’ll watch her for a while.”
“Oji.” Tsunade firmly agreed, feeling a little bit like Groot. It would be weird if she just started talking, though, right? She’ll call for her mom next week or something.
Or tomorrow. Honestly, Senju Yoko deserved better.
Tobirama did indeed keep her occupied for a while longer. Tsunade happily spent that time playing with his hair once he had seated her atop his broad shoulders, trying to make sense of the conversations he had. Japanese was a difficult language to learn but she already knew enough to infer the meanings of at least some of the words that popped up often in their conversation.
She didn’t remember falling asleep but she must have; her eyes opened to a slit and met a red gaze as she was lowered into bed. Her granduncle donned the same stoic expression that he always did but there was warmth in his eyes and it spread until Tsunade could feel it in her own belly, too.
She felt loved.
“Oji.” She whispered, giving his hand one last squeeze, then fell back asleep.