Shut Up When You've Had Too Much to Drink

The meeting at the Hokage Tower concluded.

The contents of the intelligence report were not complicated—the Rock Village was reinforcing its troops, the Cloud Village was mobilizing, and unidentified armed forces had appeared in the Land of Rain.

The intelligence Jiraiya had brought back from the outside confirmed the judgment everyone held in their hearts but was unwilling to voice.

"Six months at most."

He stood in the center of the meeting room. He was thinner than the last time they had met, his chin covered in stubble, with dark circles hanging beneath his eyes.

But those eyes were heavier than before.

"Everyone, prepare yourselves."

No one responded.

Silence was the answer.

After the meeting, the three of them walked out of the Hokage Tower. The streetlights were already on.

Jiraiya loosened his shoulders, as if shedding a burden.

"Grab a drink?"

No one objected.

In the corner of a tavern, three pots of wine sat on the table.

Jiraiya sat down, poured a full cup, and downed it in one go.

He set the cup down, wiped his mouth, and let out a long breath.

"I haven't had a drink in over half a year out there. It was killing me."

Tsunade poured herself a cup and pushed one toward Kitahara Kaede.

"You didn't say a word during the meeting."

Kitahara Kaede twirled his cup.

"Jiraiya said enough. Six months is the upper limit."

"I don't think it will be any longer, either." Tsunade picked up her cup, took a sip, and paused. "The Medical Corps needs to move in advance."

"Expand the force, assign them to squads on the front lines. Leave the delicate work to you and the Core Team; everyone else should start by learning battlefield first aid."

Tsunade frowned, wanting to argue.

She opened her mouth, then drank her wine instead.

"I'll draw up a plan when I get back."

Jiraiya leaned back in his chair, holding his cup as he watched the two of them exchange questions and answers.

He didn't interject.

It wasn't that he couldn't.

It was that he realized he didn't need to.

After several rounds of drinks, the atmosphere relaxed.

By her third cup, the alcohol began to show on Tsunade's face. Her cheeks were flushed, and she began to talk more.

She complained about a chunin in the Medical Corps who couldn't even bandage a wound properly—"He can tie a finger into a triple knot; I really want to dismantle his hand and put it back together."

Jiraiya had finished most of a pot, his tongue slightly thick as he recounted absurd stories from his time gathering intelligence.

How he had disguised himself as a merchant only to be dragged off by real merchants to haul cargo for a day, or how he had infiltrated an intelligence post only to find the contact was deaf—

Tsunade laughed and scolded him, and Kitahara Kaede occasionally chimed in.

The distance between the three of them was pushed closer, bit by bit, by the alcohol and the laughter.

Then, Jiraiya glanced toward the space in front of Kitahara Kaede.

To be precise, he glanced at the gap between him and Tsunade.

It was less than a fist's width.

When Tsunade had poured the wine earlier, her elbow had brushed against him, and she hadn't pulled away.

He hadn't moved, either.

Neither of them had noticed.

Or perhaps they had, and neither could be bothered to adjust.

It had been over a decade, after all.

Jiraiya downed another mouthful of wine.

The tension he had been carrying in his chest was softened by the alcohol, and once it loosened, words were prone to spill out.

He set his cup down. He didn't look up, but his voice suddenly took on a more serious tone than before.

"Tell me."

Tsunade and Kitahara Kaede both looked over.

"When exactly are you two going to make it official?"

Tsunade's hand froze in mid-air.

Jiraiya counted on his fingers, holding them up one by one.

"From the time you met until now..."

"It's been at least fifteen years."

"The window paper has been worn thin enough to tear."

He pointed his cup at Kitahara Kaede, tilting his head. There was drunkenness on his face, but none in his eyes.

"What are you waiting for?"

The buzzing of the other tables in the tavern seemed to fade away instantly.

Kitahara Kaede didn't speak.

The tips of Tsunade's ears began to burn.

She kept her gaze fixed on the wood grain of the table, not moving a muscle.

Jiraiya waited a few seconds, but no answer came.

He took another drink, as if fortifying himself.

"Let me tell you, a woman like Tsunade—"

He patted his own chest, his voice rising a notch.

"If you don't cherish her, there are plenty of people lining up."

He paused.

"I can't say for anyone else, but I, Jiraiya—I'd definitely be first in line."

The words were wrapped in the shell of a joke.

But he knew Jiraiya was serious. He met Jiraiya's gaze.

The two of them looked at each other in silence.

Then—

Thud.

Tsunade slammed a fist onto the top of Jiraiya's head.

The force was somewhere between "a real hit" and "deadly."

Jiraiya and his chair were driven into the wall behind him. Wood chips and bits of plaster rained down, and a customer at the next table nearly spat out their drink.

"Shut up when you've had too much to drink!!"

Jiraiya hung in the wall, his voice muffled as it came from the crack.

"...Was I wrong?"

Tsunade stood where she was, clutching her fist.

Her chest heaved.

She didn't turn around.

She was afraid that if she did, the expression on her face would give her away. She grabbed the unfinished cup of wine from the table and downed it in one gulp.

The liquid burned her throat, and the sting made her eyes grow hot.

Kitahara Kaede stood up, walked over, and pulled Jiraiya out of the wall.

He brushed the dust off his shoulders and helped him sit back in his chair.

Jiraiya tilted his head, squinting at him.

"...Say something, at least."

Kitahara Kaede didn't respond.

He took the money from his pouch and placed it on the table, adding extra—the cost of repairing the wall.

Tsunade had already stood up and started walking out.

Her steps were a bit unsteady, but her back was held stiffly.

Kitahara Kaede turned and followed her.

Behind him came Jiraiya's low voice, slurred, as if he were talking to himself.

"Get her home."

Kitahara Kaede didn't look back.

"I know."

There were few people on the street, and the September night air carried a chill.

Tsunade walked in front, her pace faster than usual, as if she were running from something.

Or perhaps as if she were chasing something.

Kitahara Kaede followed half a step behind, saying nothing.

After walking for a while, Tsunade spoke first.

"That guy Jiraiya, he just talks nonsense when he's drunk."

"Yeah."

"Don't take it seriously."

"Yeah."

"..."

They walked a bit further.

Tsunade stumbled.

Kitahara Kaede reached out and caught her arm.

Tsunade shook it off—but she didn't succeed.

"I'm fine, I can walk myself."

Kitahara Kaede let go.

She took two more steps forward, her heel caught, and her shoulder bumped into the wall by the road.

Kitahara Kaede walked in front of her and turned around.

He crouched down.

His back to her.

Tsunade looked down at his back.

"Get on."

"I said..."

"If you fall into a ditch, tomorrow the whole village will know the First Hokage's granddaughter got drunk and passed out next to a sewer."

There was a few seconds of silence.

She heard herself let out a soft "Hmph."

Then, a weight leaned forward.

Her arms draped over his shoulders, and her chin rested on his shoulder.

Kitahara Kaede supported her legs and stood up.

She was lighter than he had imagined.

He began to walk.

Tsunade's hair slipped from her shoulder, the ends brushing against his neck.

Her breath hit the back of his ear, rhythmic and warm.

Kitahara Kaede looked straight ahead.

After walking a block, the person on his back stirred.

Tsunade leaned her face toward his neck.

Her lips were almost touching his earlobe.

She didn't speak.

But he could feel it—her lips moved.

"What do you want to say?"

No sound came out.

After a few seconds, she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

Her arms tightened slightly.

Kitahara Kaede didn't ask again.

He walked very slowly.

The walk to Tsunade's house usually took ten minutes.

Tonight, he took the long way.

He wasn't in a hurry.

No one was rushing him.

The breathing on his back gradually became light and steady.

The arm draped over his shoulder slowly loosened, fingers dangling down and brushing lightly against his chest.

She was asleep.

Kitahara Kaede turned his head to the side.

Her face was right there.

Absurdly close.

Golden strands of hair clung to her cheeks, her eyelashes were lowered, and the tip of her nose held a faint flush from the alcohol.

Her lips were slightly parted.

Breath escaped through the gap, so soft it was as if she were afraid of waking someone.

Kitahara Kaede watched for two seconds.

Then he turned his gaze back to the front.

The road was coming to an end.

He knocked on the door.

There was a rustling sound from inside.

The wooden door opened a crack, and Nawaki's head poked out.

His eyes were bleary with sleep, his hair a chaotic bird's nest.

He saw Kitahara Kaede first.

Then he saw Tsunade slumped on his back.

His eyes lit up, and his drowsiness vanished instantly.

"Brother Kaede."

Nawaki lowered his voice, the expression on his face truly spectacular.

"Did you win my sister over?"

Kitahara Kaede looked at the face that resembled Tsunade's by sixty or seventy percent, now plastered with gossip, and his temple twitched.

As expected.

Children in the ninja world were all precocious.

"Your sister just had too much to drink."

Nawaki stepped aside to let him pass, biting his back teeth so hard his entire face trembled.

Kitahara Kaede carried Tsunade through the hallway.

He pushed open the door to her room.

He laid her down gently on the bed.

Tsunade turned over, clutched the corner of the quilt, and frowned slightly.

She muttered something, indistinct and garbled.

Kitahara Kaede reached out and brushed the stray hair stuck to her forehead away.

The moment his fingertips touched her skin, her brow smoothed out.

He watched her for a moment.

He pulled the thin quilt up and covered her shoulders.

He turned to leave, closing the door behind him.

In the hallway.

Nawaki was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his bare feet pressed against the floor, the grin on his face completely uncontrollable.

"Master—"

"Hmm."

"Your ears are red."

"I drank too much."

"Liar. You drank all night at the tavern and didn't—"

"Training is extended by one hour tomorrow."

"..."

Nawaki shut his mouth.

Kitahara Kaede ruffled his hair and walked away.

He took three steps.

"Master."

His voice had suddenly changed.

Kitahara Kaede turned back.

Nawaki stood in the middle of the hallway, having put away all his playfulness.

Twelve years old, yet his eyes were like an adult's.

"Treat my sister well."

He paused.

"Otherwise, I'll beat you up."

Kitahara Kaede looked at him.

Then he smiled.

"Deal."