New resolutions

Sen’s POV

I turned 17 yesterday. Just like always, I celebrated quietly with my family. Birthdays have never been something I get excited about, especially with everything I’ve experienced in my past life. The whole concept feels... strange to me. I don’t hate it, but I don’t feel the joy most people do. Shishu and my family understand that, which is why they’ve never pushed me to have big parties. For that, I’m grateful.

These days, I’ve been feeling restless. There’s only so much a girl can read before it starts to feel repetitive. Even my favorite books don’t hold the same charm anymore. My drawing supplies are still at my apartment, so that’s not an option either. Jiraiya-sama’s advice to take things slow is starting to feel more like a curse than wisdom.

It was early afternoon when I decided to visit Shishu. I stopped in front of her door and knocked lightly. She opened it within seconds, and before I could say anything, she pulled me into a warm hug.

"Sen!" she said, her voice full of relief.

We stepped inside, and Naruto, who had been playing with his toys, looked up. The moment he saw me, his face lit up, and he came running. His hug was just as enthusiastic as his mother’s, his little arms wrapping tightly around my legs.

"Ni-san! You finally came!" he said, looking up at me with big, concerned eyes.

"Naruto, I’m sorry I didn’t visit sooner. I wasn’t feeling well," I explained gently, kneeling to his height so I could meet his gaze. "But I’m better now, so I promise I’ll visit more often."

Naruto grinned and nodded, his worry melting away. He ran back to his toys, his little footsteps echoing in the cozy home.

Shishu handed me a package, a warm smile on her face. "Here, this is for you. Happy belated birthday."

I took the gift, the weight and shape of it unmistakable. A dress, I guessed. I smiled softly. "Shishu, thank you. You didn’t have to."

"Of course I did," she said, sitting beside me on the couch. "You deserve to feel celebrated, even if you don’t make a big deal out of it. You look so much better than the last time I saw you. Are you really feeling okay now?"

I nodded. "I think I’ve recovered fully now. I feel... normal again."

Her expression softened, but there was a hint of concern in her eyes. "I know you say that, but you don’t have to pretend with me, Sen. If there’s anything you need—anything at all—you can tell me. You’ve been through so much. Don’t rush yourself."

Her words hit me deeper than I expected. I smiled, but it wasn’t just out of politeness. It was genuine. "Thank you, Shishu. I mean it."

She reached over and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Always, Sen. You’re family."

Naruto went back to his toys, and Shishu told me to make myself comfortable before heading to the kitchen to prepare tea. I settled into the couch, a wave of familiarity washing over me. I used to come here regularly before the Nine-Tails attack. This house held so many warm memories—afternoons spent talking to Shishu about seals and village matters, evenings when Minato-san would join us. The three of us would discuss everything from politics to everyday life. I missed those nights more than I realized.

Sitting here again made me feel at home. It was a fleeting but precious sense of belonging that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

But as comforting as this moment was, my mind couldn’t stay still. Since the ordeal with Root, I’d been thinking more seriously about my shortcomings. I couldn’t let myself remain complacent. I wasn’t just an office worker—I was an asset, an S-rank kunoichi. That reality demanded more of me.

The thought of returning to the field lingered in my mind. My summons, as much as I adored them, wouldn’t let me laze around for long. They were right—I needed to up my game.

Shishu returned, carrying a tray with tea and snacks, and set it on the table between us. She took her seat and looked at me with her usual warmth, but there was curiosity in her eyes.

“Sen, you’ve been quiet. What’s on your mind?”

I hesitated for a moment before answering, my voice steady but serious. “I’ve been thinking about rejoining the mission roster, Shishu. The Root incident made it clear—I can’t afford to stay comfortable just focusing on fuinjutsu. I need to get stronger. If Root is still out there, I have to be prepared.”

She paused, her gaze steady as she studied me. Then she nodded, taking a sip of her tea. “That’s a wise decision, Sen. I know you’ve never been eager to join field missions, and I understand why. After everything you’ve experienced—even before this life—your reluctance makes sense. But sometimes, necessity outweighs hesitation.”

I nodded, grateful for her understanding. “I’ll speak to Hokage-sama about it officially. I’m not sure how it’ll go. Being classified as an S-rank asset... I don’t even know what the procedure is for someone in my position.”

Shishu smiled, her expression softening. “And how will you handle the office work? I can’t imagine Shikaku letting you go without a fight. Dattabane.”

I couldn’t help but laugh softly at her teasing tone. “I’ll talk to him too. If he really needs me, I’m sure he’ll come up with a solution. But... I can’t let that hold me back. My priority is ensuring I’m capable enough to protect myself and others.”

She leaned back in her chair, thoughtful. “You’ve grown so much, Sen. I’ve always believed in you, but hearing this resolve in your voice... It makes me proud. And don’t worry—if there’s anything you need, whether it’s advice or training, you know I’m here.”

I smiled, a small weight lifting off my chest. “Thank you, Shishu. That means a lot to me.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon discussing how I could resume my training. Shishu had so many ideas—everything from sparring with more experienced shinobi to incorporating fuinjutsu into combat. By the time I left her house, I felt more determined than ever.

This wasn’t just about getting stronger. It was about proving to myself that I wouldn’t be caught off guard again. Root may still be out there, but so was I. And this time, I was ready to face them head-on.

Minato's POV

The village was slowly returning to a sense of normalcy. The streets were bustling again, laughter echoed from the training grounds, and the heavy air that had lingered after the Nine-Tails attack was finally lifting. Still, there was much work to be done.

Earlier today, I had a long conversation with Fugaku. We discussed the idea of opening the Uchiha Police Force to other clans. Of course, as Hokage, I didn’t need his permission, but I understood the value of diplomacy. Getting him on my side before moving forward was the wisest approach.

Initially, Fugaku had been reluctant, but Junpei’s input seemed to sway him. Junpei’s reasoning was sound—redistributing responsibilities would free up many Uchiha to serve in other capacities, like ANBU. Having more Sharingan users in critical roles would undoubtedly strengthen the village.

I was still mulling over these plans when a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” I called out.

The door opened, and Sen stepped inside, her expression composed but serious. I gestured for her to sit, and she greeted me politely before settling into the chair across from me.

“Minato-san,” she began, her tone calm but firm, “there’s something I need to discuss with you.”

I studied her for a moment, noting the determination in her eyes. “Of course, Sen. Is everything all right? Weren’t you just at tea with Kushina?”

“I was,” she admitted with a small nod. “I spoke to her about this as well.”

That piqued my curiosity. I leaned forward slightly, silently urging her to continue.

“After the Root incident, I’ve had a lot to think about,” she began, her voice steady but tinged with resolve. “I realized that while my expertise in fuinjutsu was helpful, it’s not enough. If I ever find myself in a situation like that again, I want to be better prepared. I need to broaden my skills. It’s time I resumed my training as a shinobi.”

Her words carried weight, and I could tell she had been reflecting on this for days. I nodded, offering her an encouraging smile.

“It sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought,” I said. “You’re right—developing your skills further is a smart decision. But as an S-rank asset, your situation is unique. You know the restrictions that come with your classification.”

She nodded again, but this time there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

I continued, “Your status means you can’t leave the village without being accompanied by ANBU or high-ranking jonin. It also means that your training and missions will need to involve those who are already aware of your circumstances. That limits the pool of people you can work with, but it also ensures that those around you will be prepared to support and protect you.”

Her expression didn’t falter. If anything, she looked more resolute.

“I understand,” she replied. “I’m willing to work within those limitations. My priority is becoming strong enough to protect myself and the village.”

I smiled at her determination. “I’ll bring this up with the council. I think they’ll agree that expanding your skill set is in everyone’s best interest. It’s good to see you taking this step, Sen. Broadening your horizons will not only help you but also strengthen the village.”

She nodded, her lips curving into a small but genuine smile. “Thank you, Minato-san. That means a lot to me.”

As she left my office, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. Sen had been through so much, yet here she was, ready to push herself even further. It was a reminder of the resilience that defined so many in this village, a quality that gave me hope for our future.

A thought struck me as I reviewed Sen’s request. Without delay, I summoned Raido, my current guard, and asked him to bring Tsunade Senju to my office. Despite her demanding schedule as the head of the hospital and the Medical Corps, she arrived within fifteen minutes. Her pace was brisk, and her demeanor, as always, was sharp and commanding.

“Hokage-sama,” she began, her tone curious yet respectful, “what’s the matter? Why was I summoned on such short notice?”

I gestured for her to take a seat and leaned forward slightly, my elbows resting on the desk. “Tsunade-sama, I’ve received an unusual request—one I thought you’d want to weigh in on. Sen approached me earlier today, asking to restart her shinobi career. She wants to take missions and resume training to be prepared for future threats.”

Tsunade’s brow furrowed slightly, and I could see the flicker of concern cross her features. After a moment, though, she seemed to understand where I was heading.

“Ah,” she said, the corners of her lips lifting into a small smile. “She’s a Senju by blood, Minato. I imagine that’s been on your mind as well.”

I nodded, and she continued, her voice steady but warm with pride.

“She should embrace that heritage,” Tsunade said firmly. “Every Senju learns the clan’s fighting styles—taijutsu, ninjutsu, and strategies that were honed over generations. There’s a wealth of knowledge and skill she can tap into, and it’s about time she started.” She paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “Although she’s received medical training, she’s not a full-time medic. I’ll ask her directly if she wants to pursue that path further or if she’d prefer to focus on taijutsu, ninjutsu, or a mix of both. Either way, she’s welcome to train with me, Nawaki, Kawarama or Itama.”

This was exactly what I hoped to hear. The Senju clan’s legacy was unparalleled, and it could provide Sen with the tools she needed to become a formidable shinobi.

“Her being a Senju opens doors for her,” I agreed. “Their taijutsu style, their rich history, and the techniques they’ve perfected are resources only a few have access to. The Senju are one of the founding clans, after all.”

Tsunade’s smile grew a little wider as she leaned back in her chair. “Exactly. Hashirama’s legacy as the Shodaime Hokage speaks for itself, and Tobirama, her grandfather, was a man whose intellect and skills were feared across nations. From what I’ve heard, Sen shares some of his traits. Her chakra-sensing abilities are a natural gift, much like his.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “She also shares his affinities. Sen has both wind and water chakra, just like Tobirama. If she wants to, she could learn directly from his personal scrolls. There’s so much untapped potential there.”

“She’ll have to decide how far she wants to take it,” Tsunade said, her tone softening. “But she’s a bright girl. If she chooses to embrace this path, I wouldn’t be surprised if she developed jutsu of her own someday.”

I allowed myself a small smile. “Neither would I. Sen’s shown remarkable intelligence and determination. With the right guidance and training, she’ll be a valuable asset—not just to the village but to the Senju legacy as well.”

Tsunade stood, her eyes glinting with a mixture of pride and responsibility. “I’ll speak to her soon. We’ll find the right path for her.”

As she left, I couldn’t help but feel optimistic about Sen’s future. The weight of her lineage and her unique circumstances had kept her in the shadows for too long. Now, with Tsunade’s guidance and the support of the village, she had a chance to shine.

Sen's POV

I sat by the Naka River, letting my eyes wander over the tranquil water and the distant view of the Hokage Mountain towering above the village. The wind carried the faint hum of Konoha’s life—the laughter of children, the murmur of merchants, and the occasional clatter of a shinobi sparring session in the distance. This place had always been special to me, a quiet corner where I could think.

My mind wandered back to the incident with Satsuki two years ago. It had happened not too far from here, and yet it felt like a lifetime ago. Time moved so quickly, blurring the edges of memory. But the lessons I learned then—about vigilance, trust, and strength—had stayed with me, shaping who I was today.

Minato-sama had given me his response just a day after I made my request. My request to rejoin the shinobi ranks had been accepted, though with some stipulations. I wouldn’t be allowed to take solo missions for now, and I’d always accompany shinobi who were aware of my unique circumstances. These conditions would remain in place until I reached jonin rank, at least.

Becoming a jonin wouldn’t be easy. It wasn’t something handed out in the field as a promotion. Jonins were elite shinobi, and reaching that rank required passing rigorous tests. It was a challenge, but one I knew I could face. I just needed to fill the gaps in my abilities—gaps that suddenly seemed glaringly obvious.

I leaned back, resting on my elbows as I gazed at the sky. My thoughts swirled.

The taijutsu I relied on was a blend of the academy katas I had learned in my younger days and techniques I had developed on my own. I’d integrated medical ninjutsu and occasional fuinjutsu into my close-combat style, making it uniquely my own. It worked well for close-range fights.

But my long-distance combat was limited. I could perform a handful of B-rank wind jutsus I’d learned from scrolls, and my jutsu-absorbing seals gave me an edge against elemental techniques like katon. Still, my second chakra affinity remained underdeveloped, a dormant skill waiting for me to unlock its potential.

And then there was kenjutsu. My relationship with swords was... complicated. I wasn’t bad at it—I could hold my own with a blade—but it wasn’t something I felt connected to. Sword fighting had never truly resonated with me, yet I knew it was a skill I couldn’t ignore. The jonin exams would demand proficiency in it, and for that, I needed a teacher.

A name lingered in my mind—Kushina-shishu.

She had once been a force to be reckoned with, feared across nations for her prowess in combat and her expertise in kenjutsu. She might be the perfect person to train me. But the thought of asking her made my chest tighten. Ever since the Kyubi had been sealed into Naruto, her chakra system had been weaker. Training me might strain her further, and that was a risk I wasn’t sure I wanted to take.

There are also other people I could think of who would help me if I asked. I could consider Junpei, Genma, Jiraiya, or even might ask Shizune. They’re all feared ANBU shinobi. Being an ANBU means you must be fluent in kenjutsu, ninjutsu, and taijutsu. I don’t want to ask Junpei, though; he and I just started dating, and I don’t feel comfortable asking him. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to focus on the spars with him. They’re all so powerful that I kind of feel ashamed to ask them about it.

Jiraiya-sama is always out of the village, and I cannot leave the village, so he’s out of the equation.

“There you are.”

I quickly went into defense mode. That was Kawarama and Itama.

“Uh... you were looking for me?” I asked, confused.

“Of course, Sen. We’ve come to know that you want to get back to the field, and for that, you must learn the required skills, don’t you?” Kawarama asked me calmly, while Itama sat in front of me, smiling widely.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about that,” I told them.

“Stop thinking, Sen. Have you forgotten who your grandfather is?” Itama asked me genuinely.

“Sen, you are a Senju by blood, which means you deserve to learn Senju-style training,” Kawarama added.

I hadn’t thought of that.

“Like Ka-san said before, you deserve your place in the clan. I know you won’t leave your grandma and mom behind, but allow us to teach you the clan-style fighting,” Kawarama said.

“Well, that solves my problem, guys. Thanks for that. I’ll be happy to train with you. When can we start?” I asked.

Both of them stood up, and Itama held my hand.

“We’ll start today. Come on, we’re going to train in the Senju compound. We’ll talk more there,” Itama said, holding me as he shunshined us to the compound.

There were heavy wards on the clan gates. One couldn’t get inside without being accepted into the seals. They added my chakra to the seals so I could enter the compound whenever I needed to train.

As we arrived at the Senju clan compound, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of its history. The air felt thick with the presence of generations before me, their strength and their struggles. This place was both ancient and alive, filled with the energy of those who had lived and trained here, their blood coursing through the roots of the trees that towered above. The compound was massive, covering a vast area, and despite its size, it always seemed to be a place of quiet, calm. There were around forty members living here, but the compound itself felt like it could house far more.

The architecture was old, built from stones that had weathered the centuries. The walls were sturdy, worn smooth from years of use. Yet, the compound had an unmistakable sense of vitality that was hard to ignore. It wasn’t just the sound of training that echoed through the air, but the presence of life—green and thriving, stretching high into the sky.

The trees here were unlike any I’d seen before. There were massive Hashirama trees—tall, sturdy, and reaching for the heavens. Their leaves rustled softly in the wind, a whisper of the past, a reminder of Hashirama Senju’s legacy. These trees were no mere decoration. They were an embodiment of the clan’s power—grown from Hashirama's Mokuton, his Wood Style jutsu, and nurtured for generations. The very soil beneath my feet seemed to pulse with the strength of those trees, as though their roots held the memory of every Senju who had ever walked here. It was hard not to feel small, even with my training, standing beneath them.

The two clan grounds stretched before me, separated by a natural stream that wound through the compound. On one side, the training fields were dotted with wooden dummies and targets, and in the distance, I could see the familiar sight of Mokuton—large, thick trees growing with the power of Itama and Kawarama’s own Mokuton techniques. Their control over the trees was not just impressive, it was personal, as they too had inherited Hashirama's blood, his gifts flowing through their veins. These trees weren’t just for training—they were alive, constantly growing and changing, just as the Senju clan had done over the years.

The vines and branches seemed to stretch across the compound, curling around the stone walls and buildings, as if nature itself had decided to reclaim this place. These were the same trees that Hashirama had created with his Wood Style, a testament to his power. Now, they were part of the clan's legacy, watched over by Kawarama and Itama as they continued to nurture them with their Mokuton abilities.

It was hard to believe that such a place could hold so many memories. Every tree, every vine, felt connected to the past. I could almost imagine Hashirama standing in the clearing, his chakra flowing through the earth, coaxing these mighty trees to grow. I wondered if, in some way, I was walking in the footsteps of those who had come before me—those who had helped build this clan with their sweat, their blood, and their sacrifices.

Even though the Senju clan was the largest by land, we had the fewest members. But this place had a vastness that made you feel its age, its power, and its purpose. I could see why the clan had survived through the centuries, why it had remained so vital despite its small numbers. There was something about this place—something ancient, something untouchable—that made you feel as though you could do anything if you stood here long enough.

As Itama and Kawarama led me deeper into the compound, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. This wasn’t just a place to train; it was a reminder that I wasn’t just learning techniques—I was becoming part of something much bigger. The trees, the ground beneath me, the air itself—it all felt like it was alive with history, and I had only just begun to understand my place in it.

Kawarama had invited me to the Senju compound whenever he and Itama were in the village. He mentioned that one of them would most likely always be here, and I was expected to join them for training. Once that was over, Tsunade and Nawaki-san would talk to me. The day’s session had already begun, and I could feel the pressure of my nerves building.

Kawarama’s approach to training was methodical but relaxed. He asked me to spar with him in my own style, but I knew he was testing me. He had an understanding of my abilities, but he wanted to see how well my style could stand up against his. I knew my taijutsu was unconventional, especially since I had incorporated medic chakra to close chakra points, but I hadn’t expected this challenge.

We squared off, my stance ready but untested against his seasoned skill. His movements were swift, flowing like a river, and each strike came with a precision I had never experienced before. For about half an hour, we exchanged blows, his strength pushing me to my limits. It was clear that Kawarama was no slouch; he had the experience to back up his reputation, and every movement of his had purpose.

Finally, he stopped.

“You’re holding your own well, Sen,” he said, his breath steady despite the exertion. “Your taijutsu is admirable. The base is academy style, but you’ve added medic chakra into your strikes. That’s lethal in its own right. You can close an opponent’s chakra points, which can be deadly in close combat. You’ve made something that many can’t even achieve with years of training. If you face someone skilled in tenjutsu, your chakra control will be your greatest asset. Blocking their tenketsu points will give you an edge. But don’t get too comfortable. There’s always room for improvement.”

His praise was encouraging, but I could tell he wasn’t done. His eyes glinted with intent as he spoke again.

“Itama and I will teach you the Senju katas,” he said, his voice carrying an air of importance. “These are techniques passed down through the generations. They were honed by Hashirama and Tobirama themselves.”

We moved to a large open space, the ground beneath us solid and well-worn by years of training. Itama, who had been watching from the side, stood a little further away, his gaze never leaving us. His presence was both reassuring and intimidating. Kawarama began to guide me through the Senju katas. They were far more complex than anything I had trained with before. Each kata was a fluid, almost meditative series of movements, designed to blend offense with defense. There was a certain rhythm to them, a pulse that made my body flow into the next move almost without thinking.

The first kata Kawarama taught me was a defensive stance, where you used the weight of your own body to deflect and absorb the force of an attack. It felt awkward at first, but as I continued practicing it, I began to feel the strength in the motion. My own body moved more fluidly, and I could feel the chakra around me shift, ready to defend or strike when needed.

From there, we progressed to a more offensive series of katas. These strikes combined Taijutsu with chakra control, making each movement stronger. At one point, Kawarama instructed me to focus my chakra through my fists and into the ground, using the energy to uproot and manipulate the terrain around me. The strength in my strikes was becoming sharper, my movements more calculated.

We practiced these katas for over two hours, the repetitions slowly embedding the moves into my muscle memory. I was starting to feel the strain of continuous practice, my limbs aching and my chakra slowly depleting. Finally, I couldn’t keep up any longer.

“Can we take a breather?” I asked, panting slightly.

Kawarama nodded, a look of approval in his eyes.

“Of course, Sen. You’ve made good progress.”

We sat down on a stone bench nearby, the cool air of the compound a welcome relief. Itama came over with a water bottle, passing it to me. I took a long drink, feeling the water replenish me as my body slowly relaxed. My mind, however, was already working, analyzing the katas, trying to understand how I could blend them with my own style.

The Senju katas were more than just a set of movements. They were a way of thinking, a method for engaging with the world around you in a way that was both destructive and restorative. The knowledge that Hashirama and Tobirama had perfected these techniques, making them part of the Senju legacy, added weight to every movement.

I was tired, but I could feel the beginnings of something greater. With time and practice, these katas could become the foundation of my own fighting style, making me stronger and more prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead.