.

.

.

.

4

.

The sage grimaced and stepped forward, staring at the man with the red and grey cloak.

The akatsuki man vanished.

Jiraiya swore. He was tempted to give chase, but decided against it. The sage raced for the girl—the wound was long, but she'd live. The woman was already coming to, clutching the area in pain and searching for bandages in her back pocket. "Jii…r…" she slurred, blinking her eyes several times, "…sam…What…?"

"He's gone. The rest are all taken care of."

"Ka…"

Jiraiya grunted. "Let's get you fixed up first, hm?"

.

The sage carried Kakashi while the woman walked. She was completely silent. Her wound pained her a great deal and she was still sweating. Jiraiya kept an eye on her.

Kakashi meanwhile drifted in and out. No, Jiraiya didn't have eyes in the back of his head, nor the byakugan, but Yuugao kept looking over frequently. Like a repeating muscle spasm, it was quick and consistent. The sage smiled. So his daughter had a crush on his nephew, hm? Except she wasn't really his daughter.

But Kakashi was still his nephew.

"Don't worry," the sage cleared his throat. "He won't die on my back," Jiraiya said. "He knows I'd never forgive him."

The girl quickened her pace—falling in line just behind the tall sage. Some color came to her face. "…Have you forgiven him for anything, master Jiraiya?"

Yep. She cared. Even though she kept her voice masterfully steady. "No," the sage sounded harshly. "No, I haven't."

Jiraiya was still mad.

And he desperately wanted to throw Kakashi off his back just then, go to that little town and forget all about what's-his-face with some sake and a pretty girl…but…he didn't. His anger served him enough to continue walking and watching the woman beside him. Who, in her curious sagacity, elected not to say anything more.

Normally, Tsunade would have chastised him, paired with a cold shoulder striking his face indignantly. Yes. It was a silly game of his. But it was the only one that kept him going.

Perhaps the woman understood that somehow, having inserted herself in this scene like a chess piece on the board, comprised of fallen trees and sinkholes as squares. The strange girl continued watching Kakashi every now and then. And the fly buzzing in Jiraiya's ear laughed all about the girl's concern.

Oh how it never failed.

Oh how it was so familiar to him…once.

.

"So?" the blonde-haired woman stared. There were new pens in her cup.

"I told the girl to give you the report," the man admired her tile flooring. Very shiny. Did the little tower genin clean it today?

"Yes, she gave me that, and that's why I'm seeing you now."

"Oh really? I thought it was because I was just so damn attractive," he turned his head with a blush.

"Fool."

"Princess."

She rolled her eyes. "So was it Itachi?"

"Probably."

"And he just left?"

"Yeah. What is this, fifty questions?"

"Well don't you find that odd?"

"Of course I find it odd. But I couldn't exactly detain him and ask him about the beetles attacking our trees lately or his current favorite novelist, or the way he likes his coffee in the morning—"

Tsunade sighed. "So it's just something…'to be continued in our next', is it?"

Jiraiya grinned. He could have kissed Tsunade just then. "That's why I make so much money, " he stepped forward, lowering his voice in a suggestive manner. "The sequels. Well…" he retracted, "…Granted it's only worked with Icha Icha so far…and that's only because it kept getting more and more…" he rolled his hand in repeating circles.

"Yes yes," Tsunade stacked a few pages on her desk and stood. "Well. Let's hope the continuation is a good one for the girl."

Tsunade was leaving her office. "—The girl?" Jiraiya detained the hokage. "Why…? What's wrong with her?"

"The same thing that happened to Kakashi. Jiraiya—she lost a lot of blood."

"But you said she…" Jiraiya muttered a despairing noise which leavened out to a sigh. "Thanks," he uttered, and held the door open for the princess, and himself. Then he remained there, grasping the door, blankly staring off into space while the rays of a descending sun filtered through her windows as pure orange and gold.

"Coming…?"

"…Yeah."

.

He went to see the woman.

Her condition had deteriorated.

Jiraiya blamed himself. "…I should have just dropped Kakashi, and…" he breathed out slowly—alone in the room. His nephew was just across the hall, more than likely at the same juncture of pale and totally unconscious as the dark violet haired woman beneath him. Jiraiya sighed again. "…'Love is bound'," he quoted once more, "'and the more it is bound, the less it is blind.'" Jiraiya folded his arms obstinately. "So maybe…if I scratch my eyes out…I would love him and not see Sakumo all the time."

Yuugao's eyes were closed.

Jiraiya bit his lip—restraining pitfalls of tears and emotions. "Because I am still mad…at him…for…dying."

"So…" the sage picked up, looking over her form. "If you don't leave here soon," Jiraiya said seriously, "I carry a grudge like you wouldn't believe. And you really…really wouldn't want that. Especially if I was ever to be kin to you…which I doubt…" Jiraiya smiled a little. "Anybody who reads Icha Icha is seriously depraved…

"But…I suppose, you must be a little strange too," the sage admired. "Anybody who can fall in love with a man who uses shuriken for doorstoppers must at least be quick on her feet. Personally, I'm still pissed off about that…And I know Tsunade is too…"

.

.

.

.

-Caliko, Kariko Emma