Chapter Text
The night was humid, the kind of humid that stole your breath away, the kind of warmth and humidity that left a thin layer of sweat on your skin. But that was Yugakure, a place known for the steam trickling from the bathhouses out into the village. She'd wanted passage to neutral grounds, having tired of her voyage through the Land of Fire. The Land of Hot Water was a glaring example of an island surrounded by bloodthirsty nations just waiting for a reason to turn the peaceful nation into a war zone. War. The word whispered on the breeze, traveling with the steam, spreading throughout the village. Like the world needed more destruction and devastation. Like two great wars hadn't been enough. It was a cycle, wars inevitable, and she'd tired of that too.
Tsunade held up a hand to part the white cloth panels separating the sake bar from the road. Three of the six stools were empty, so she chose one furthest from the other patrons. In addition to the lingering heat and humidity, the air stunk of cigarette smoke and cheap sake, one of which she planned on indulging in. She'd spent the last three hours gambling, Shizune stuck at their room at the inn. The girl was thirteen and too smart for her age, her maturity shown in the way she helped her drunk guardian stumble into their room whenever they called a village their temporary home. Tsunade drank to forget, but it never worked. Even inebriated, she dreamt of blood staining her hands. She recalled the way it felt as it slid over her palms and between her fingers. She wasn't drunk enough, never drunk enough, but drinking made her feel in control of her life. Cheeks flushed, gambling until she and Shizune had nothing but the clothes on their backs, she wasn't alright, never alright, but she put one foot in front of the other and endured, the same as all shinobi. Funny how the mantra kept her going, even if she felt half dead inside.
She opened a tab and ordered cheap sake, all she could afford after gambling away over half of her money. She would have to get more money in the next village they visited, she and Shizune, her young apprentice. Being broke sobered her up, so she downed her first cup, chasing it with a second and a third. The blonde drank away her Tuesday night, ignoring rowdy patrons seated at the other side of the small bar. As long as none of them bothered her, she told herself she wouldn't bother them. That was like her new code. Still, she often let rage guide her actions. She'd had to flee plenty of villages for destruction of property and instigating fights which quickly turned to all-out brawls. And Shizune -- she really didn't deserve her -- forgave her, each and every time. Tsunade hid in alcohol, gambling, and violence, while Shizune hid in medical books and scrolls. With enough practice, the teen would surpass her teacher, and then she'd have no reason to travel with her guardian. Tsunade thought that way. Shizune didn't.
One of the men at the other end of the bar whistled at her, but she chose to ignore him. He was leering at her, the same as most stupid men. She could break him like a toothpick. Tsunade downed another cup of sake, then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He was stupid enough to try whistling again, so she clenched her left fist and slowly turned to smile at the man.
"You alone, beautiful?" His eyes lowered to her breasts and she'd already had enough of him. Cup cracking under the strength of her right hand, she made to stand, but a hand came down on her left shoulder. "Whoa. Sorry man. I didn't know she was yours."
As if she needed a man to treat her like an object. She exhaled harshly and her attention shifted to the hand on her shoulder. When she saw her teammate smirking down at her, she rolled her eyes and stomped down the urge to deck him. He always had to appear, like a godsend, and maybe she hated it just as much as she loved it. Jiraiya ordered sake of his own and got her another cup, one that wouldn't leak sake on her hand. He sank into the seat to her right and made a show of settling down, as if thirty-six years made him ancient. And maybe it did, in shinobi years. Sometimes she felt ancient. Those were her worst days, days when she couldn't drag herself out of bed. Those days had lessened, but they still occurred. Jiraiya waited until he had his own sake and drank his first cup, then he turned slightly so he could see her face. He looked exhausted, but being on the road could do that to a man.
"So how did you manage to find me this time? Another birdy?"
"Something like that."
She squinted at him, maintaining eye contact as she took a drink. She wasn't drunk enough to deal with his stupid ass. He smiled at her and her heart fluttered, and that was the proverbial nail in the coffin. Tuesday was another shit day, just like Monday. He'd shared his feelings with her once, only once, and they'd never talked about it again. She told herself, told him, that she wasn't interested in his lecherous ass, but she lied through her teeth. Out of all the men in her life, he'd never let her down. She trusted him, and she knew he trusted her. It was complicated, while being entirely simplistic in nature. Feelings never got a girl anywhere. Tsunade knew that firsthand. While she waited for him to drink his liquid courage, she studied his face again. Even though they'd only been apart several years, he'd changed. He'd aged gracefully, which had her snorting. Of course he still looked good, while she used a jutsu to keep her looking twenty-five and hot as hell.
"Maybe we could take this somewhere more private, princess?"
"Anything you need to say to me can be said right here." Tsunade tapped her right index finger on the wooden bar and he heaved a frustrated sigh. He looked serious, sounded serious, so she gritted her teeth, settled her tab, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Let's make this quick. I'm tipsy and I want to get plastered."
"Always elegant and refined," he teased her, motioning with his chin for her to follow him. They stepped beneath the cloth dividers and out into the streets, leaving the place behind.
She thought he might take her into the red-light district, giving her a reason to release pent-up anger by punching him through a wall, but he chose a relatively nice park. In the day, children might have played there. There was a section near the waterfront that had picnic tables under a cover, a grill set up in the same space. Yugakure wasn't a big village, but it was a nice tourist attraction, perfect for disappearing. Again, she wondered how he managed to find her. Maybe he always knew where to find her. He sat down on a picnic table, using the seat to hold his feet, while she chose to sit right next to him. With them, it was mostly business, their meetings always having a purpose. She had a feeling he was going to ask her to accompany him back to Konoha, to overcome her crippling fear of blood. Their sensei still believed he could force her hand, in the nicest way possible. Hiruzen knew that if anyone could get her back into the village, Jiraiya could.
"Have you heard about the border skirmishes?" Jiraiya crossed his arms over his chest and looked over the park, eyes scanning over the area rather than looking into her eyes. She frowned then, thinking of all the rumors she'd encountered on her journeys. "It's bad, real bad."
"Feh. Nothing to do with me," she shrugged, trying to appear as if she didn't care about the place she'd once called home, the place her grandfather had helped found. "So sensei decided to send a messenger. Don't you have anything better to do?"
"You know I'd drop everything for you."
"Don't do this to me."
They lapsed into silence, Tsunade suddenly feeling thirty-six again, maybe older. One war had been enough. Konoha had asked so much of her, too much of her, and it was easier to walk away than deal with her guilt and process her grief and anger. She blamed the village for the deaths of her precious people, and she knew that it would only be a matter of time before she lost Jiraiya too. At least Orochimaru had fled. Beside her, Jiraiya finally looked at her and she almost wished he were too perverted to see anything but her breasts, because the look in his eyes crumbled walls she'd built years ago.
"Sakumo is dead," he informed her, his voice low. They had both known him; they had both considered him a friend. How was it that such a talented shinobi died so soon into the mess? "He took his own life. Seppuku."
"No one does that anymore. What the hell happened? What about his wife?"
"She passed away before him. He left a young son behind. He considered himself at fault for the escalation with Iwagakure, and for a few weeks, I hated him for choosing the lives of his team over the mission objective."
"That's not right. We would have done the same thing. What is sensei doing? He's finally gone senile."
"I'm not going to ask you to come back with me. I know it's not the time," he continued, surprising her. He cracked a partial smile and reached out to touch her shoulder. "I'm going to say keep it in mind. You aren't a missing nin, even though you act like it. We could really use your help."
Tsunade looked at him with wide eyes, looking between his eyes and his smile. The fool would end up getting himself killed, without a doubt. He'd asked her before, in roundabout ways; he's tracked her down each time, as if they shared a red string of fate. The thought of blood made her skin crawl. The metallic tang in the air. He must have seen something on her face because he squeezed her shoulder in an attempt to draw her back to him. Sometimes she really hated him. Tsunade looked down at her hands resting on her thighs and ground her right sandal against the concrete. Maybe she'd had enough time, and maybe she hadn't. She missed her team. She missed him. She needed more sake to carry her away. But it was nearing three in the morning and the bars closed at four.
"I'll be here for three days."
"How do you always find me?"
"I know you."
"You always were equal parts smooth and sappy," she replied, already standing from the bench. Jiraiya got to his feet, the two of them standing together for several awkward minutes. She never noticed how tall he'd grown, easily overshadowing her. "And if I decide to continue on my travels?"
"It will be more like a 'see you later' rather than goodbye," he shrugged, leaning down to pull her into a hug. She sighed at him, then nudged him in the gut with her fist. He groaned in pain, quickly pulling back to pout at her. "I forget you like to beat up men for fun."
"What else am I supposed to do with my time? Knit?"