The eting in the Hokage Tower conference room had adjourned.
The contents of the war reports were straightforward: the Stone Village was increasing its troop numbers, the Cloud Village was mobilizing, and unidentified ard forces had appeared in the Land of Rain.
The intelligence Jiraiya had brought back from the field confird the grim conclusion everyone had reached in their hearts, though none wanted to say it aloud.
"Six months, at most."
He stood in the center of the room. He had grown thinner since their last eting, with short stubble on his chin and dark circles beneath his eyes.
But his gaze had grown heavier.
"Everyone, get ready."
No one responded.
Silence was the only answer.
After the eting, the three of them walked out of the Hokage Tower just as the streetlights were flickering on. Jiraiya slumped his shoulders, as if shedding a great weight.
"Want a drink?"
No one objected.
***
In a corner of a tavern, three carafes of sake sat on the table.
Jiraiya sat down and imdiately poured himself a full cup, knocking it back in one go. He set the cup down, wiped his mouth, and let out a long sigh.
"I haven't had a drink in over half a year while I was out there. I was dying for this."
Tsunade poured herself a glass and pushed another toward Kitahara Kaede.
"You didn't say a word during the eting," she noted.
Kitahara Kaede swirled the liquid in his cup.
"Jiraiya said enough. Six months is the upper limit."
"I don't think it'll last longer than that either," Tsunade said, taking a sip of her drink. She paused. "The dical corps needs to mobilize early."
"We'll expand the units and assign a platoon to the front lines. You and the core group will handle the delicate procedures; everyone else will be trained in battlefield first aid."
Tsunade frowned, looking as if she wanted to argue. She opened her mouth, then thought better of it and drank her sake instead.
"I'll draft the proposal when I get back."
Jiraiya leaned back in his chair, watching the two of them exchange words. He didn't interrupt. It wasn't that he couldn't; it was that he realized he didn't need to.
After a few rounds, the atmosphere relaxed.
By her third cup, the alcohol had reached Tsunade's cheeks, leaving them a soft crimson. Her inhibitions dropped, and she began to vent. She complained about a Chunin in the dical corps who couldn't even wrap a bandage properly.
"He managed to tie three dead knots just wrapping a finger. I honestly wanted to dismantle his fingers and reinstall them myself."
Jiraiya, having finished more than half a carafe, was starting to slur his words as he recounted the absurdities of his intelligence gathering. He spoke of disguising himself as a rchant only to be dragged along by a real rchant to haul cargo for an entire day, and of infiltrating an intel point only to discover the contact was deaf.
Tsunade laughed and cursed at him several tis, while Kitahara Kaede chipped in occasionally. Between the alcohol and the laughter, the distance between the three of them slowly closed.
Then, Jiraiya glanced toward Kitahara Kaede. To be precise, he glanced at the gap between him and Tsunade.
It was less than the width of a fist.
Tsunade's elbow had brushed against him while she was pouring the drinks, and he hadn't moved away. He hadn't shifted an inch.
Neither of them seed to notice. Or perhaps they had, and they simply couldn't be bothered to adjust anymore.
It had been over a decade, after all.
Jiraiya took another gulp of sake. The tension he had been carrying in his chest was being washed away by the alcohol, and as he relaxed, the words began to leak out.
He set his cup down without looking up, but his tone suddenly beca more serious.
"Tell ."
Both Tsunade and Kitahara Kaede looked over.
"When are you two finally going to make things official?"
Tsunade's hand froze in mid-air.
Jiraiya began counting on his fingers, raising them one by one.
"From the ti you t until now..."
"It's been at least fifteen years."
"The secret is practically out in the open."
He pointed his cup at Kitahara Kaede, tilting his head. He looked drunk, but his eyes were sharp.
"What are you waiting for?"
The ambient buzz of the other tables in the tavern seed to fade into the distance.
Kitahara Kaede didn't speak.
Tsunade's ears began to burn. She stared fixedly at the wood grain of the table, motionless.
Jiraiya waited a few seconds. When no answer ca, he took another drink, as if bolstering his courage.
"I'm telling you, a woman like Tsunade—"
He patted his own chest, his voice rising.
"If you don't cherish her, there's a line of people waiting."
He paused.
"I can't speak for others, but I, Jiraiya—would definitely be first in line."
He phrased it as a joke, but both Kitahara Kaede and Tsunade knew he was being sincere. For a mont, Kitahara Kaede and Jiraiya locked eyes in silence.
Then—
*Boom!*
Tsunade slamd her fist directly onto the crown of Jiraiya's head.
The force was sowhere between a "real hit" and "lethal force."
Jiraiya, chair and all, was driven straight into the wall behind him. Splinters of wood and chunks of plaster rained down as the custors at the next table nearly spat out their drinks.
"Shut up when you're drunk!!"
Jiraiya hung limp against the wall, his muffled voice echoing from the cracks.
"...Was I wrong?"
Tsunade stood her ground, fists clenched, her chest heaving. She didn't turn around. She was afraid that if she did, she wouldn't be able to hide the expression on her face. She grabbed the unfinished glass of sake from the table and downed it in one gulp.
The liquid burned her throat, making her eyes sting with heat.
Kitahara Kaede stood up, walked over, and hauled Jiraiya out of the wall. He brushed the dust off Jiraiya's shoulder and helped him back into his chair.
Jiraiya tilted his head, squinting at him.
"...Aren't you going to say sothing?"
Kitahara Kaede didn't answer. He pulled so money from his pouch and placed it on the table, adding extra—for the repairs to the wall.
Tsunade had already stood up and was walking toward the exit. Her steps weren't entirely straight, but her back was rigid.
Kitahara Kaede turned to follow her.
Behind him, Jiraiya's low, slurred voice drifted through the air, as if he were speaking to himself.
"Get her ho safely."
Kitahara Kaede didn't look back.
"I know."
***
The streets were nearly empty, and the September night wind carried a chill.
Tsunade walked ahead of him, her pace faster than usual, as if she were hiding from sothing—or perhaps rushing toward sothing.
Kitahara Kaede followed half a step behind, remaining silent. After a while, Tsunade spoke first.
"That idiot Jiraiya... he just talks nonsense when he's drunk."
"Mm."
"Don't take him seriously."
"Mm."
"..."
They walked a bit further.
Tsunade stumbled. Kitahara Kaede reached out and caught her arm.
She tried to shake him off, but she couldn't.
"I'm fine. I can walk on my own."
Kitahara Kaede let go.
She took two more steps, but her heel slipped and her shoulder collided with the wall beside the road. Kitahara Kaede stepped in front of her and turned around.
He crouched down, his back to her.
Tsunade looked down at his silhouette.
"Get on."
"I told you..."
"If you fall into a ditch, the whole village will know tomorrow that the First Hokage's granddaughter passed out in a gutter."
Silence followed for a few seconds.
He heard her let out a small "Hmph."
Then, a weight leaned forward. Her arms draped over his shoulders, and her chin rested on his shoulder. Kitahara Kaede supported her under her knees and stood up.
She was lighter than he had imagined.
As he walked, Tsunade's hair slid off her shoulder, the ends brushing against his neck. Her breath hit the back of his ear, rhythmic and warm.
Kitahara Kaede kept his eyes fixed forward.
After a block, the person on his back shifted. Tsunade leaned her face closer to his neck, her lips almost touching the edge of his ear.
She didn't speak. But he could feel it—her lips had moved.
"Want to say sothing?"
No sound ca. After a few seconds, she buried her face into the crook of his shoulder, her arms tightening slightly.
Kitahara Kaede didn't ask again.
He walked very slowly.
The path to Tsunade's house usually took ten minutes. Tonight, he took a detour.
He wasn't in a hurry.
There was no one to rush him.
The breathing on his back gradually beca light and long.
The arm draped over his shoulder slowly relaxed, fingers trailing lightly across his chest.
She had fallen asleep.
Kitahara Kaede turned his head.
Her face was right there, impossibly close.
Strands of golden hair clung to her cheeks, her eyelashes were lowered, and a faint, alcohol-induced flush colored the tip of her nose.
Her lips were slightly parted.
Her breath slipped through the gap in her lips, so soft it seed afraid to wake anyone.
Kaede watched her for a few seconds before turning his gaze back to the path ahead.
They were almost there.
...
A knock on the door.
There was a series of rustles from inside.
The wooden door creaked open a crack, and Nawaki peeked his head out.
He looked bleary-eyed, his hair a complete ss, sticking up like a bird's nest.
He saw Kaede first, then spotted Tsunade slumped over his back.
His eyes lit up, and every trace of sleep vanished instantly.
"Brother Kaede," Nawaki whispered, his expression absolutely priceless. "Did you actually land my sister?"
Kaede's temple twitched as he looked at that face—which bore a sixty or seventy percent resemblance to Tsunade's—now filled with pure gossip.
As expected, kids in the shinobi world matured far too quickly.
"Your sister just drank too much."
Nawaki stepped aside to make way, gritting his teeth so hard his entire face was shaking.
Kaede carried Tsunade through the hallway, pushed open her bedroom door, and gently placed her on the bed.
Tsunade tossed and turned, clutching the corner of the blanket as her brow furrowed. She mumbled sothing incoherent.
Kaede reached out and brushed away the stray hairs clinging to her forehead.
The mont his fingertips touched her skin, her expression softened.
He watched her for a mont, then pulled the light quilt up to her shoulders. He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
In the hallway, Nawaki leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, barefoot on the floor. He could no longer hide the smug grin on his face.
"Sensei—"
"Hmm."
"Your ears are red."
"Too much alcohol."
"Liar. You—"
"Training will be extended by another hour tomorrow."
"..."
Nawaki shut his mouth.
Kaede ruffled the boy's hair and started walking away.
Three steps later, a voice called out.
"Sensei."
The tone had suddenly changed.
Kaede turned back.
Nawaki stood in the middle of the hallway, all the playfulness gone. He was only twelve, but his gaze was that of an adult.
"Be good to my sister."
He paused.
"Otherwise, I'll beat you up."
Kaede looked at him and smiled.
"Deal."
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