Chapter 7: A Gift for Gran
The morning sun streamed through Kensington Palace's tall windows, warming Edward Windsor's study. The Duke of York sat at his desk, financial reports pushed aside, his laptop open to a personal note: "Gift for Gran." Queen Elizabeth, the governing monarch, was a formidable figure, her robust spirit undimmed by age. Edward's blue-gray eyes softened, memories of childhood surfacing—chasing butterflies in her gardens, her warm laughter as she handed him toy ships or adventure books, her quiet lessons on courage and duty. She'd shaped him, and he wanted to give her something meaningful, a gesture to honor her influence.
Choosing a gift for a queen, though, was daunting. Edward leaned back, running a hand through his chestnut hair, his thoughts turning to Tsunade. Her sharp, pragmatic perspective, honed by her shinobi training, might guide him. As a woman, she could offer insight into what Gran might cherish. Their VR gaming night—her quiet thrill, that awkward moment when she'd mistaken his anatomy for a "bomb"—had built a trust he now leaned on.
He found Tsunade in the palace's training room, a repurposed space where she practiced subtle chakra exercises. Dressed in a plain sweater and trousers, her blonde hair tied back, she moved through precise forms, her amber eyes focused. She paused as Edward entered, her expression calm but curious.
"Prince," she said, her voice low, pragmatic. "You look like you've got a plan. What's it?"
Edward smiled, leaning against the doorframe. "Not a plan, Tsu. A favor. I want to get a gift for my grandmother, Queen Elizabeth. She's the monarch, means the world to me. Played with me as a kid, taught me plenty. I need something special, and I thought you might help, since you've got… good instincts."
Tsunade wiped sweat from her forehead, her tone dry. "A queen's gift? Like honoring a clan elder. I'll try, prince, but your world's tastes are strange." Her faint smile showed willingness, her reserved demeanor softening slightly.
"Appreciated," Edward said, relieved. "Meet me in an hour. We'll go find something perfect."
An hour later, they left the palace in Edward's Aston Martin DB11, a sleek silver car less ostentatious than the Ferrari but just as swift. Tsunade, in a borrowed blazer and jeans, sat quietly, her eyes scanning London's busy streets with a shinobi's alertness, her awe from earlier outings replaced by focus. Edward drove toward Mayfair, its upscale boutiques a treasure trove for gifts.
"Gran's a force," he said, breaking the silence. "Old but sharp, keeps the country steady. As a kid, I'd run through her gardens, and she'd slip me extra sweets, tell me stories of her travels. I want a gift that feels… her."
Tsunade nodded, her voice measured. "Sounds like a leader worth honoring. What does she value? Tools? Records? In the Leaf, we gift practical things—blades, herbs." Her pragmatic suggestion, tied to her world, drew a chuckle from Edward.
"Not exactly," he said. "She loves gardens, dogs, history. I thought jewelry first—sapphires, maybe—but she's got more than enough. Doesn't need another necklace."
Tsunade tilted her head, considering. "Jewelry's just polished stones. If she has plenty, give her something… distinct. Something that shows you see her." Her analytical tone cut through, her shinobi mind zeroing in.
They parked near Bond Street, its elegant shops lined with luxury goods. Edward led Tsunade into a high-end boutique, its glass cases gleaming with diamonds and pearls. He browsed, then shook his head.
"Too common," he muttered. "Gran's got tiaras older than me."
Tsunade eyed a gaudy ruby brooch, her voice dry. "That's… overdone. Like a merchant showing off, not a queen." Her subtle humor made Edward grin, easing his indecision.
They moved to an artisanal shop, its shelves filled with bespoke treasures—wooden keepsakes, silk scarves, etched glass. Edward stopped at a display of shawls, his gaze landing on a custom-made piece: a cream cashmere shawl, impossibly soft, embroidered with delicate floral patterns—roses, lavender, forget-me-nots—mirroring the Queen's cherished gardens.
"This," he said, lifting it carefully. "She loves her flowers. Wears shawls at her country estate. It's personal, not showy."
Tsunade touched the fabric, her fingers gentle, her expression approving. "It's simple but purposeful. Like gifting a healer's tools—useful, thoughtful. It fits her, prince." Her reserved praise carried weight, and Edward felt a surge of certainty.
"Done," he said, asking the clerk to wrap it in a velvet box with a note: "For Gran, with thanks – Edward." Tsunade watched, her lips curving faintly, and Edward caught a spark in her eyes, a quiet connection as they shared the task.
As they left the shop, Edward holding the gift, a chill ran through him. Across the street, a man in a dark coat stood, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, his stance too deliberate. Tsunade's shinobi senses flared, her hand brushing Edward's arm, her voice a whisper.
"Prince, that guy's watching. Not a bystander."
Edward's jaw tightened, Malin's threat flashing in his mind. "Could be his," he murmured. "Let's move. Stay close, Tsu."
They walked swiftly to the Aston Martin, Tsunade's calm intensity a shield. The man didn't follow, but Edward's instincts screamed caution. In the car, Tsunade's eyes flicked to the mirrors, her voice low.
"If he's a threat, I can handle him. No need for your soldiers."
"I know," Edward said, starting the engine, his trust in her unshakable. "But let's avoid a scene in Mayfair. Gran wouldn't approve."
Her faint chuckle, rare and soft, warmed the air. "Your queen sounds like my kind of leader."
Back at Kensington Palace, Edward placed the gift box on his desk, satisfaction settling in. He turned to Tsunade, who leaned against the doorway, her blazer shed, her expression calm but warm.
"Thanks for today, Tsu," he said, his voice soft. "You nailed it. Gran's going to love that shawl."
Tsunade gave a small nod, her voice dry but genuine. "She'd better, prince. I don't shop for just anyone." Her subtle humor sparked a laugh, their bond tightening in the quiet moment.
But as Edward checked his phone, a security alert pinged: "Unidentified male photographed in Mayfair, linked to Malin's network." The man from the shop. Edward's grip tightened, and Tsunade's eyes met his, her intensity unwavering.
"Trouble, prince?" she asked, her voice low, resolute.
"Looks like it," he said, pocketing the phone. "Stay sharp, Tsu. We're being watched."
She nodded, her calm presence a steady anchor. With the gift secured and danger looming, Edward felt the weight of his choices—protecting Tsunade, honoring his grandmother, facing his enemies. But with Tsunade by his side, he was ready for whatever came next...
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