Inside an izakaya in some town, Tsunade's cheeks were flushed red from drinking, and her eyes were hazy.
The izakaya's door opened, and a gust of cold wind blew in.
Tsunade suddenly sobered up. She had reminisced too much about Nawaki and Kato Dan, and she had drunk a little too much today.
She circulated a trace of medical Chakra, dispelling some of the alcohol's numbing effect on her body. Tsunade left herself feeling slightly dizzy—otherwise, tonight's drinking would have been for nothing.
The person who entered was exceptionally tall. He walked over to Tsunade and sat directly beside her.
Tsunade glanced at him. It was that idiot Jiraiya.
Jiraiya pulled out a stack of manuscripts and said, "Tsunade! I wrote an opening—thirty thousand words. Help me see how my novel is!"
Tsunade froze for a moment, then lifted a corner of the first page with a look of disdain and said, "You can write novels too? Let me see what you wrote. Icha Icha Paradise? Is this even a serious novel? Chapter One: Warm and Sticky... Just look at that chapter title. In this sweltering summer heat that was suffocating enough to choke me, I watched you walk out of the cinema. Sweat flowed down your pale neck and into the unfathomable depths of your chest. You stopped where you were, your high-heeled sandals facing me, your jade-white feet and crimson toenails seeming to tease me. I remembered how you had suddenly vanished in that mixed-gender bath last time, like a beautiful mermaid who loved playing pranks. I could not help tugging at my collar. This tropical low-pressure system wrapped around me, leaving me unable to breathe. You were like a sun that filled the sky, as though you knew your own beauty, knew your deadly allure, and a