(I want my power stones and review and I need money)))
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Chapter 13: Fragile Truths
The medical room at Balmoral Castle was a sterile cocoon, its antiseptic scent sharp against the Highland morning filtering through a narrow window. Tsunade sat on the edge of the examination table, her bandaged arm resting in her lap, the claw marks from the bear attack hidden beneath gauze. Her amber eyes, usually sharp with reserved intensity, were clouded with doubt, her pragmatic mind churning. The failure of her chakra on the ridge—the void where her power should have surged—gnawed at her, a puzzle she couldn't ignore.
In Konoha, she could shatter boulders with a single strike, her chakra amplifying her strength to mythic levels. Yet here, a bear had bested her, its claws tearing through her like she was mortal, frail. She flexed her uninjured hand, willing a spark of chakra, but felt only a faint flicker, as if the energy was smothered by this world's heavy air. At first, she'd dismissed the weight, the sluggishness, as a quirk of Earth's alien nature. But now, replaying the bear's attack, her failed punches, she cursed herself.
"Idiot," she muttered, her voice low, her shinobi discipline cracking. "I never tested my power here. Not once."
Edward stood by the door, his chestnut hair catching the light, his blue-gray eyes heavy with guilt. He'd been watching her, his heart twisting at her pain, her confusion. The secret he'd kept—her blood test, revealing a bone density less than half a human's—burned in his chest. Her chakra had masked it, letting her move, fight, live with impossible strength. But last night, when her chakra failed, her fragility had surfaced, and he couldn't stay silent any longer.
"Tsu," he said, his voice soft but steady, stepping closer, "there's something I need to tell you." He hesitated, his hand brushing hers, a fleeting anchor. "When you cut your hand at Kensington, I… had your blood tested. DNA, too. The results…" He swallowed, his gaze locking with hers. "Your bone density is low. Less than half a normal human's. It's why the bear hurt you so easily."
Tsunade's eyes widened, her reserved composure shattering, shock rippling through her. "Half?" she whispered, her voice raw, her pragmatic mind grappling with the truth. "I'm… a weakling here?" The word stung, alien to a Hokage who'd felled armies. She clenched her fist, her bandaged arm trembling, and looked away, her cheeks flushing with a mix of shame and disbelief.
"Why didn't you tell me, prince?"
Edward winced, guilt flooding him. "I didn't know how. You're not weak, Tsu—you've been stronger than anyone, chakra or not. I thought… maybe it didn't matter, as long as you were fine." His voice cracked, his hand hovering near her shoulder, wanting to comfort but unsure if she'd allow it. "I'm sorry. I should've told you sooner."
She exhaled, her amber eyes narrowing, her shinobi discipline clawing back. "This world's heavy," she said, her tone low, pragmatic again. "It's dampening my chakra. And my bones…" She trailed off, her mind racing. "I was a fool to ignore it. But now I know." Her gaze met his, a flicker of resolve beneath her shock. "I'm not done, prince. Weak or not."
Edward's heart swelled, her strength—even in vulnerability—igniting something in him. He took her uninjured hand, his touch gentle, their fingers entwining. "You're not weak, Tsu. Never. We'll figure this out—your chakra, this world, all of it. Together." Their eyes locked, the air between them charged, an intimate spark in the sterile room. Her faint nod, reserved but trusting, was a promise, their bond deepening amidst the truth's weight.
Later, in Balmoral's cozy wing, Tsunade sat by the fireplace, her bandaged arm cradled, a wool blanket over her shoulders. Edward had insisted she rest, but her mind was restless, piecing together her chakra's failure. She recalled the rift that brought her here, its void-like pull, and wondered if it had altered her, sapped her power. The V.M. letter from the study—Viktor Malin's shadow—lingered too, a threat she couldn't ignore, weak or not.
Edward joined her, carrying tea, his presence a quiet comfort. "Feeling any better, Tsu?" he asked, his voice soft, settling beside her. The firelight danced on his face, his concern raw.
"Better's relative, prince," she said, her dry humor flickering, her reserved tone holding. "Your world's trying to break me. But I've faced worse." Her smirk, faint but defiant, eased his worry, though her words hid her fear—of a body betraying her, a power lost.
He set the tea down, his hand brushing hers again, a deliberate touch. "You're not breaking, Tsu. Not on my watch." His voice was low, earnest, and he leaned closer, their shoulders touching, the warmth of the fire wrapping them. She didn't pull away, her amber eyes softening, a rare vulnerability peeking through. The moment stretched, intimate and unspoken, their closeness a shield against her doubts.
But a knock at the door broke the spell, a Balmoral groundskeeper—Angus, the gruff Scot—peering in.
"Your Grace," he said, his voice thick, "found something odd near the woods. Tracks, not deer. Human, maybe. Thought you'd want to know." His eyes flicked to Tsunade, wary but respectful, her quip about deer lingering in his memory.
Edward's jaw tightened, the V.M. letter flashing in his mind. Malin's reach, subtle but persistent, had followed them to this sanctuary.
"Thanks, Angus," he said, his tone calm but alert. "We'll check it tomorrow." The groundskeeper nodded and left, the door clicking shut.
Tsunade's gaze sharpened, her shinobi instincts stirring despite her injury. "Your snake's close, prince," she said, her voice low, referencing Malin—or perhaps Orochimaru, her worlds blurring. "Weak or not, I'm ready."
Edward squeezed her hand, his resolve matching hers. "Together, Tsu," he said, their fingers still entwined, the fire's glow a fragile barrier against the gathering shadows.
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