Tsubaki and Jiraiya looked at each other in silence. After a brief pause, Tsubaki nodded slightly and spoke softly.
"…Alright."
In that instant, all the worries weighing on Jiraiya's heart seemed to be swept away.
It was like ice melting, like a spring breeze brushing gently across his face—warm, tender, like a lover's touch.
His heart began to race without him realizing it, and his weathered face flushed bright red.
"I—I—I need to use the bathroom!"
Before he could finish the sentence, he rushed out the door, ran to the sink, and splashed cold water over his face again and again.
The chill of the running water grounded him, making it clear that this wasn't a dream. This was reality—no genjutsu, no illusion.
He braced both hands against the sink and looked up at his reflection.
Slowly, he lifted a hand and touched the traces time had carved into his face, his eyes drifting, unfocused.
"So… I'm really not an eighteen-year-old kid anymore, huh?"
He removed his oil-marked forehead protector, staring at the wrinkles on his brow and the faint red tear-shaped marks trailing down his cheeks, reaching up to trace them with his fingers.
"I should've known better than to learn that damn technique. Before that, these marks were barely there… I was still pretty damn handsome."
Muttering to himself, memories surfaced—after a fierce battle, he and Tsubaki had collapsed by the riverbank, exhausted, sitting side by side as they watched the sunset bleed into the flowing stream.
"…Why did I hesitate back then?"
Regret swelled in his chest.
If only—
But there were no ifs.
Time never flowed backward. It never waited for anyone. Some chances, once missed, were gone forever.
Jiraiya's eyes hardened.
He straightened suddenly, staring at his reflection as if speaking to his past self.
"The scary thing isn't missing out."
"It's failing to seize the chance when it comes again."
With that, he slapped both cheeks hard.
Smack.
Two sharp, vivid red handprints bloomed on his face.
"This time, I won't let it slip away!"
The moment the words left his mouth, Jiraiya shuddered violently. Goosebumps erupted across his skin, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
Because reflected in the mirror behind him were Tsunade and Shizune, pushing a cart piled high with surgical equipment.
The two had been focused on preparing for Tsubaki's operation, but the sudden loud slap startled them. They turned toward the sink—
—and saw Jiraiya standing there.
His face was soaked, hair a mess, and two glaring red marks stood out clearly on his cheeks.
Tsunade's eye twitched. Then her expression turned disgusted.
"You old pervert," she snapped. "Did you harass Tsubaki again and get yourself slapped?"
"She's a patient, and you're still thinking with your lower half."
"Shizune, let's go."
Without another glance, she pushed the cart forward.
Jiraiya was left standing there, frozen and utterly awkward.
...
Inside the ward, as Tsunade and Shizune entered, Tsubaki asked weakly, confusion in her eyes.
"What happened to Jiraiya? Did he…?"
Tsunade looked at Tsubaki—and for a split second, she herself hesitated.
…Tsubaki, right? Not Tingxiang. Got it.
She frowned.
"Didn't you slap that old pervert across the face twice?"
"…No."
Only then did Tsunade remember—she'd been drawn over by the sound of slapping. There was only one explanation left.
"…Forget it." She waved a hand. "He probably had a brain spasm and hit himself."
"Let's focus on the surgery."
...
Jiraiya hurried back to the ward, only to find the door tightly shut. The light above it had turned red, and bold letters read:
IN SURGERY
He could only sink into a chair outside, hands clasped tightly together. His wrists trembled, and fine beads of sweat gathered across his forehead.
Please… let it succeed.
Please don't let it fail.
Time passed—he didn't know how long. Even when the first rays of morning light filtered through the corridor windows, Jiraiya remained in the same rigid posture, unmoving.
Then—
Clatter.
The sound of wheels rolling echoed softly.
Jiraiya's eyes flew open. He leapt to his feet just as Shizune stepped out of the ward, exhaustion written all over her face. Her surgical gown was stained with blood.
"How is Tsubaki?!" Jiraiya demanded hoarsely.
"Did the surgery succeed? Is the hidden illness cured?!"
Shizune nodded.
"The operation was successful."
"Tsunade-sama's control of the Medical Transfer Technique was extremely stable. Everything went more smoothly than expected."
"She'll need three more days of rest. With medical ninjutsu twice daily to accelerate recovery, she can be discharged after that."
As she finished speaking, Tsunade came out as well, pushing a cart stacked with equipment wrapped in blood-soaked gauze.
"You—go buy me ramen. Now."
With that, she turned and walked off with Shizune.
"Shizune," Tsunade added tiredly, "ask Shikaku Nara and Nonō Yakushi to cover for us for a day. I'm done. I need sleep."
Their voices faded down the corridor.
The instant they were gone, Jiraiya rushed into the ward, pulled back the curtain, and saw Tsubaki lying quietly on the bed.
Her face was pale, her body weak—but her expression was peaceful. The corners of her lips curved faintly upward as she looked at him, her lips moving ever so slightly.
"I'm fine… just a little hungry."
No sound came out.
But Jiraiya understood perfectly.
"…She said she's hungry."
"…Wants to eat."
In the next second, he was already crouched on the windowsill, looking back at her with a grin.
"I'll go get Ichiraku Ramen right now!"
And without hesitation, he jumped.
Tsubaki watched him leap down.
The warm orange light of early morning bathed his figure, stretching his shadow long across the ground. The red tear marks still traced his cheeks, and he was as reckless and unrestrained as ever.
Still…
He's handsome.
From downstairs, the furious shouts of medical staff echoed upward.
"Hey! (#`O′) You idiot! I told you not to jump down from there!"
"You stepped all over the clean sheets we just hung out!"
"Sorry, sorry!" Jiraiya's voice rang back.
"I'll wash them later! I've got something important to do right now—please wait!"
Listening to the chaos outside the window, Tsubaki slowly closed her eyes.
…You really haven't changed at all.
...
Half an hour later, the ward door burst open.
Jiraiya rushed in, holding two bags of takeout Ichiraku Ramen, the noodles and broth neatly separated.
Carefully, he raised the bed partition at the foot, unpacked the containers, and gently helped Tsubaki sit up. He picked up some noodles with his chopsticks and blew on them lightly.
"Hu~ hu~"
"Open your mouth… ah~"
Off to the side, Shizune silently opened her own serving, slurped a mouthful of noodles, and glanced at her master's expression—soft, relaxed, genuinely happy.
Only then did realization dawn.
…So that's it.
Master… are you planning to date this guy?
She sighed inwardly.
Well, sunsets are red too. Tsunade-sama says he's a shameless lecher who flirts everywhere…
…I really hope Master can keep him in line. (=_=;)
...
...
...