Writers gathering material—nothing shameful about that.
But it's hardly an excuse for peeping, especially when the writer in question happens to pen erotic novels.
Hakken Yoru stepped forward for one reason only.
Yūgao Uzuki was still in the bath.
Well.
Jiraiya, a man who'd frequented every major establishment in the world, shouldn't have needed to resort to something this low. After Hakken blocked his path, the man seemed to lose interest altogether.
In the rest area beside Konoha's hot springs, two figures—one large, one small—sat together.
Hakken tossed a gourd of sake toward Jiraiya, crossed his arms, and looked at him seriously.
A truly dashing man.
A man who had written the final line of his own heroic tale.
"The dragon returns to the sea, yet the sea does not welcome me, Jiraiya."
It was a story that could bring tears to anyone's eyes—a life of courage and devotion that moved the soul.
For Konoha, he had done everything he could.
A pity, though—Jiraiya's heroic story had ended on an incomplete note.
Just like during the upcoming Nine-Tails incident, when fate kept him away from the village—it always felt as if something vital was missing.
"You're not even old enough to drink, are you?"
Taking the gourd, Jiraiya gave it a sniff, his eyes lighting up. "And this… this is some ridiculously strong liquor."
As someone well-versed in fine drinks, Jiraiya could tell with just one whiff that this was no ordinary brew.
Hakken didn't respond. He wasn't a man of many words, preferring to act rather than explain.
After taking a sip of the liquor, Jiraiya too fell silent.
After all, Hakken Yoru wasn't Naruto Uzumaki.
And there wasn't much to say to a kid who'd just caught him peeping.
Still, Jiraiya wasn't the type to sit quietly under the moonlight and savor his drink in peace. The gallant sage preferred company and noise.
After a cup, his face flushed red. Suddenly, he remembered his appointment with the hostess.
"Ahem… good liquor."
"Seems you're a passionate sort yourself. Money's too tacky a reward—here, take this. My latest unpublished work."
Eager to hurry off to his rendezvous with the hostess, Jiraiya tossed the book over and strode away.
"Icha Icha Paradise."
Glancing at it briefly, Hakken calmly tucked it into his loincloth.
After all, it was Jiraiya's creation. He wanted to see what made this kind of book so different from what he imagined—and why it had taken the entire shinobi world by storm, even captivating Kakashi Hatake.
Standing up, he felt a faint ripple of spiritual pressure approaching. Wearing his usual calm expression, Hakken walked to the entrance of the women's bath and waited.
Three seconds later, a sleepy girl with damp purple hair lifted the curtain and stepped out.
Perhaps the warmth of the bath had made her drowsy. Eyes half-closed and mid-yawn, she walked straight into someone's arms.
Her eyes snapped open. Their gazes met—and like a startled fawn, she bolted away.
It was him!
He hadn't left!
Clutching her towel tightly, Yūgao Uzuki's face turned bright red.
Clack.
Unfortunately, the impact had dislodged the Icha Icha Paradise hidden in Hakken's loincloth.
Curious, the girl looked down.
When her eyes fell on the cover—a boldly posed woman staring back at her—she froze.
He actually read books like this?!
The image she had of him—that calm, composed, strong swordsman—suddenly began to crack.
Hakken, of course, remained completely calm.
He bent down, picked up the Icha Icha Paradise, and gently patted Yūgao's cheek, as if testing her temperature. Then, bringing that same hand to his own forehead, he nodded slightly.
"Not bad. No fever."
"Come on, I'll walk you home."
...
It was strange.
That was Yūgao Uzuki's thought at that very moment.
Truly strange.
In the middle of the night, she had actually agreed to let a man—one who carried that kind of book—walk her home.
But under the moonlight, she could clearly see the boy's side profile beside her. The faint scar marring his face etched itself into her heart as well.
She couldn't help it—she wanted to know everything about him.
Walking stiffly at Hakken's side, she followed in silence until his footsteps suddenly stopped. A flicker of confusion crossed his face.
Turning to her, Hakken took a hearty swig from his gourd and asked, "Where do you live?"
Damn it!
Was he playing with me?
When did that even happen?
I've been played.
Played for the entire day—and there was nothing I could do about it.
At that moment, tears welled up in the girl's eyes, born of pure frustration.
Frustration at her own weakness.
Because she was weak, she had been toyed with so easily.
You don't even know where I live, so why have you been walking straight ahead this whole time?!
At first, she had been lost in thought, not paying attention to her surroundings. But now that she looked around—where even were they? They were almost at the Forest of Death!
"You just wait!"
The furious girl threw out the words like a challenge before turning and sprinting off.
She swore she would never forget this humiliating day.
The first time she had been utterly defeated in Kenjutsu.
The first time a man had invited her to take a bath together.
What next—was he going to invite her to sleep with him?
"Boring."
Hakken shook his head.
Truth be told, he really had meant to walk Yūgao home. After all, it was late.
At this hour, Konoha really should put up warning signs that read: "Late at night—beware of Orochimaru."
Yes.
Orochimaru was out hunting for test subjects again.
Otherwise, what reason would Hakken have to escort a girl home?
"Well, well. I didn't expect someone like you to take an interest in women."
Some people just couldn't resist showing up when mentioned.
As Hakken sighed, a figure landed beside him—a man with a sack slung over his shoulder, his pale face catching the moonlight.
Late at night—beware of Orochimaru.