The Huntress

The Assignment

Tsunade had no clue when her daughter would arrive. She could only wait, though she was sure she would take her time. She told the Toad Sage to inform her that the mission was time-sensitive, and hoped that would put more haste in her step. Katsume only tends to be late when it's she who has requested her presence, other than that she is quite punctual, so she's told, she hasn't experienced her daughter's punctuality herself.

A beige ceramic mug sits heavily front-and-center atop her desk after just being filled with steaming joe. Black coffee-the darkest roast Shizune could find at the market- bitter and akin to drinking sediment. She could add sugar and some cream and maybe it's just the masochist dwelling deeply within, but she preferred it this way.

The mug is hot to the touch and like any sane person, she ops for the handle on the side intended for such a debacle. She lifts it to her plump lips and the scalding liquid burns her tongue on its journey down her throat, but she pays no mind, the hotter the better-again, it's the masochist. She loves the consistency of morning coffee, as most adults do, it's a routine she would prefer not to live without; wake up, get ready, walk to her office, sit down behind her desk and look over the new stack of documents as Shizune summarizes the day's schedule while pouring the steaming dark liquid into her usual beige ceramic mug.

A light knock sounds-the Anbu stationed outside the door notifying her of the imminent company- before the double-doors swing open. A moment later, in a notoriously relaxed fashion, two-of-a-kind saunter through the doorway. The white-haired father-daughter duo looked more alike than ever before, baffling her that that was even possible. Inherently, it is possible.

She scans over her daughter approaching her, adorning her new forehead protector similar to Jiraiya's. She not smiling now but her features are light in a way that tells her she's smiled a lot today-her eyes are soft, along with the remanence of crinkles in the corners from her facial muscles pushing the skin upwards.

Tsunade is pleased she likes her present. Katsume didn't need to know she had anything to do with it. Jiraiya had insisted she put her "mark" on it so, whether Katsume knew or not, she would always carry a piece of her mother as well. Although her green haori is about four inches shorter now, he was right, a sense of pride flowed within her, along with the love she's come to acquire for her daughter. It was always there but she pushed it away, to selfishly spare the heartache she brought upon herself. She could let it go now-the love-set it free into the air. She'd push it away no longer.

A small brown paper bag is plopped next to her ceramic mug, sending ripples over the dark liquid. Tsunade glances between the bag with the rolled top and the young woman standing before her desk, who is staring out of the large windows overlooking the village, surely just avoiding looking her in the eyes. Tsunade's brow furrow in confusion as she takes hold of the bag and begins unraveling the haphazardly rolled opening.

"It's just a muffin," Katsume announces boredly, her gaze still fixed on the window.

Tsunade's gaze travels from the bag's contents to her daughter once again, hoping to finally meet her goldens but to no avail. They shift from Katsume to a cheekily smiling Jiraiya giving her two big supportive thumbs-ups as he backs stealthily out of the room, leaving the women to conversate alone. She bites her lip to keep herself from smiling too wide and thanks her daughter for the breakfast. She doesn't fail to notice the light blush dusting her features.

The Hokage clears her throat and picks up a folder sitting on top of the new pile Shizune so kindly left for her to assign by the end of the week. It's as if as soon as she finishes a stack of paperwork, another mountain replaces it. It is truly exhausting. She examines the contents of the folder briefly before handing it over to Katsume. "Your assignment is to retrieve a scroll containing a kinjutsu."