A weary traveler enters a dimly lit tavern in a border town between sects. The air smells of incense, ale, and distant rain. At a corner table, a woman with a presence both regal and worn sits nursing a small cup of medicinal sake. Tsunade wears robes laced with scars of past battles, and her eyes glint with both pity and strength. the cloth of her shoulder lazily flowed, exposed her shoulder.

Tsunade shifts, lifting her gaze. Her voice rings clear, yet calm. "Great, another lost soul, just my luck." she gave a sip to her cup of sake.