The figure approaching the Leaf's primary gate was unmistakable. A tall, robust man clad in a red haori, a massive scroll slung across his back, and a forehead protector bearing the kanji for "Oil." Two jagged red lines traced down his cheeks like permanent tear tracks, framing a face that had seen more of the world's ugliness—and its beauty—than almost anyone alive.
"Yo," the man called out, his voice a gravelly, cheerful rumble that cut through the afternoon haze. "Izumo, Kotetsu! Don't tell me you two are still holding down this gate? I leave for years and find the same faces in the same place. It's almost comforting!"
He grinned, a wide, goofy expression that lacked any pretense of the "Legendary Sannin" status he carried. Despite his age and the sheer weight of his presence, he felt as approachable as a village storyteller.
The two guards, Izumo and Kotetsu, both felt their faces flush. They were seasoned Chunin now, men with families and responsibilities, yet standing before this man, they felt like clumsy academy students again.
"Lord Jiraiya! You're finally back!" Izumo shouted, his professionalism momentarily failing him. "This is incredible. First Lady Tsunade returns, and now you... the village has been buzzing. It's just... a real shame about Lord Orochimaru."
"Izumo!" Kotetsu hissed, jabbing his elbow into his partner's ribs.
The air around the gate seemed to chill for a fraction of a second. Jiraiya's smile didn't vanish, but the light in his eyes shifted, darkening with a complexity that spoke of decades of heartbreak. He had spent his life chasing a shadow that didn't want to be found.
"Orochimaru, huh?" Jiraiya murmured. He looked at the Great Stone Faces of the Hokage. "A man who turns his back on his home shouldn't be called 'Lord' anymore, even by old acquaintances. He made his choice."
He shrugged, shaking off the melancholy as easily as a dog shakes off water. He began to step past the barrier, but Kotetsu leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Lord Jiraiya... there's something else. Something... strange."
Jiraiya stopped, one eyebrow arched. "Strange? In this village? Did Gai finally try to run around the world on his hands?"
"No, sir. It's... Lady Tsunade. She didn't come back alone." Kotetsu glanced around nervously. "She brought a man with her. Very mysterious. Nobody knows where he's from, what he wants, or even how he keeps slipping past our sensors. The Hokage has forbidden any disrespect, but the rumors... they're everywhere."
Σ(っ°Д°;)っ
Jiraiya's face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated shock. His jaw practically hit the dusty road. Orochimaru's betrayal was a tragedy, but Tsunade bringing a man home? That was an apocalypse.
"A man?" Jiraiya's voice was a strangled squeak. "Tsunade? The 'I'll-punch-your-heart-out' Tsunade? She brought a guy... back to the village?"
"Yes, sir. And he brought a young lady with him, too. An assistant, apparently."
Jiraiya stood frozen, a comical look of dejection washing over him. He felt like a protagonist who had returned to his hometown only to find the heroine had moved on to a sequel he wasn't cast in. He slumped his shoulders, trudging into the village with a heavy, lonely gait.
Kotetsu watched him go, feeling a pang of guilt. "Maybe I shouldn't have been so blunt, Izumo?"
"He was going to find out eventually," Izumo sighed, shaking his head. "Better to hear it at the gate than to walk in on them having tea."
But the "amazing adult" they were pitying wasn't mourning for long. As soon as he was out of the guards' sight, Jiraiya's dejection evaporated. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled notebook and a pen.
"Gathering material... gathering material," he muttered, his eyes glinting with a lewd, frantic energy. "If Tsunade's heart is occupied, I must find solace in the 'research' for my next masterpiece! Hehehe."
The Art of the Dango
A few blocks away, the atmosphere was considerably more surreal.
Shen Mo was strolling down the main thoroughfare, flanked by Ikaros and a very disgruntled Tsunade. They had just stopped at a famous dango stall, and the result was currently causing the Fifth Hokage-candidate a great deal of mental distress.
"I can't believe you did that," Tsunade hissed, her face flushed pink. She was holding a stick of dango, staring at it as if it were a thermal detonator.
"Did what?" Shen Mo asked, looking entirely too innocent. "I saw Ikaros looking at them. It's only natural for a master to provide for his assistant. And since you were standing there, it would have been rude not to buy you one as well."
"The vendor looked at me like I was a grandmother taking her grandkids out for treats!" Tsunade growled, a vein pulsing in her forehead.
Beside them, Ikaros was focused on her dango with a level of concentration usually reserved for targeting orbital strikes. She didn't bite it. Instead, she stuck out her tongue, giving the sweet rice ball a tiny, tentative lick. Her eyes widened, a faint shimmer of pink appearing on her cheeks. She looked like a curious kitten discovering milk for the first time.
"Is she... really that old?" Tsunade asked, her anger momentarily derailed by Ikaros's sheer, natural naivety. In front of Shen Mo, the "Queen of the Sky" had vanished, replaced by a girl who seemed to find the concept of sugar a profound mystery.
"Age is a matter of perspective," Shen Mo said, his tone turning mock-philosophical. "If you stop worrying about the world's expectations, you can maintain a youthful mindset indefinitely. That's the secret to Ikaros's charm. She doesn't care about the past or the future; she only cares about the dango in the 'now.' You should try it. If you're so embarrassed, just throw it away."
He knew damn well she wouldn't throw it away. He'd seen her eyeing the sweets with a hidden longing before he bought them.
Tsunade glanced at Ikaros, then back at her dango. Am I really the one being difficult here? she wondered. Slowly, tentatively, she took a small lick of the sweet glaze. Her eyes lit up. "Wait... this is actually really good."
Shen Mo suppressed the urge to laugh. Watching the legendary slug princess imitate a tactical angel eating sweets was a highlight of his afternoon. But then, his sensory link—the one connected to every membership badge in the village—picked up a very specific, very erratic signature.
"Oh," Shen Mo said, turning his head toward the western district. "That's interesting."
"What? Is it another 'potential customer'?" Tsunade asked, her mouth full of dango. "If you're planning on ditching me to sell more jars, I'm doubling your rent."
"No, just someone I've been looking forward to meeting," Shen Mo said. "A very famous person from your village. Though, he seems to be... 'investigating' the local architecture."
"A man?" Tsunade asked, confused.
The direction Shen Mo was pointing was toward the public bathhouses. Specifically, the side of the street where the women's entrance was located. Years ago, the village had been forced to separate the facilities by a significant distance due to a "recurring nuisance."
Tsunade's eyes narrowed. A cold, familiar dread began to pool in her stomach.
"White hair?" she asked, her voice dropping an octave.
"Very white," Shen Mo confirmed. "And he's wearing a red haori. He's currently... well, he's in a very low crouch. It looks like he's trying to check the door hinge for flaws. From a very low angle."
Tsunade's grip on her dango stick snapped.
She surged forward, her speed blurring the air. Shen Mo and Ikaros followed at a leisurely pace, arriving just in time to see a man with long white hair huddled against the wooden slats of the bathhouse door. He was sticking his rear into the air, one eye pressed firmly against a crack in the wood, a pen scribbling furiously in a notebook.
"Ohhh, the splashing... the laughter... this is the soul of literature!" the man whispered to himself, a thin trail of blood leaking from his nose.
"WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, JIRAIYA!"