Keep Quiet When You're Drunk

The meeting in the Hokage Tower conference room ended.

The battle reports were straightforward: Iwagakure was sending reinforcements, the Cloud Village was mobilizing, and an unknown armed force had appeared in the Land of Rain.

The intelligence Jiraiya had brought back from the field confirmed the conclusion no one wanted to say aloud.

"Six months at most."

He stood in the middle of the room, a good deal thinner than the last time they had seen him. Stubble shadowed his jaw, and dark circles hung beneath his eyes.

But his gaze had grown heavier than before.

"Everyone, get ready."

No one responded.

The silence was answer enough.

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

Jiraiya rolled his shoulders, as if he had just set down a burden.

"Care for a drink?"

No one objected.

Three jugs of sake sat in a corner of the tavern.

Jiraiya sat down and immediately poured himself a full cup. He tipped it back and drained it.

Setting the cup down, he wiped his mouth and let out a long breath.

"I haven't had a drink in over half a year. I've been dying for one."

Tsunade poured herself a cup, then pushed one toward Kitahara Kaede.

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

Kitahara Kaede swirled his cup.

"Jiraiya said enough. Six months is the best-case scenario."

"I don't think it'll be any longer, either." Tsunade raised her cup and took a sip. After a pause, she said, "The Medical Corps needs to get moving ahead of time."

"We'll expand it and assign companies to the front lines. You and the Core Team can handle the more delicate work. The rest should start learning battlefield first aid."

Tsunade furrowed her brow, as if she wanted to object.

She opened her mouth, then took a drink instead.

"I'll draft a plan when I get back."

Jiraiya leaned against his chair, cup in hand, watching the two of them go back and forth.

He didn't interrupt at all.

Not because he couldn't.

He'd realized he didn't need to.

After a few rounds, the mood loosened.

By her third cup, Tsunade's cheeks had flushed, and she'd become more talkative.

She complained about a Chunin in the Medical Corps who couldn't even tie a bandage properly—"He wrapped a finger in three layers of knots. I wanted to take it off and put it back on for him."

Jiraiya had already polished off most of a jug. His tongue was getting thick as he recounted the absurd things that had happened while he was gathering intelligence.

He'd disguised himself as a merchant, only to be roped into hauling goods by a real one for an entire day. He'd infiltrated an intelligence post, only to discover that his contact was deaf—

Tsunade laughed and cursed at him several times, while Kitahara Kaede occasionally chimed in.

The distance between the three of them shrank little by little, pushed closer by alcohol and laughter.

Then Jiraiya glanced toward Kitahara Kaede.

More precisely, he glanced at the gap between him and Tsunade.

It was less than a fist's width.

When Tsunade had poured the drinks earlier, her elbow had brushed against him. Neither of them had moved away.

They hadn't noticed.

Or perhaps they had noticed and simply couldn't be bothered to shift.

It had been over ten years, after all.

Jiraiya took another swig.

The tension coiled around his heart had eased a little under the wash of alcohol. Once it loosened, words came more easily.

He set his cup down. He didn't look up, but his voice suddenly turned more serious.

"Listen."

Tsunade and Kitahara Kaede both looked at him.

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

Tsunade's hand froze in midair.

Jiraiya counted on his fingers, raising them one by one.

"You've known each other for..."

"At least fifteen years."

"The writing's been on the wall forever."

He pointed his cup at Kitahara Kaede, his head tilted. His face was flushed with drunkenness, but his eyes were clear.

"What are you waiting for?"

The din from the other tables seemed to recede all at once.

Kitahara Kaede didn't speak.

The tips of Tsunade's ears began to burn.

She fixed her gaze on the wood grain of the table and didn't move.

Jiraiya waited a few seconds, but no answer came.

He took another drink, as if steeling himself for something.

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

He thumped his chest, his voice rising.

"If you don't cherish her, there'll be a line of people waiting to."

He paused.

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

The words wore the guise of a joke.

But Jiraiya was serious. Kitahara Kaede met his gaze.

The two of them quietly looked at each other.

Then—

Thump.

Tsunade slammed a fist into Jiraiya's crown.

The force fell somewhere between "a real punch" and "trying to kill him."

He and his chair crashed into the wall behind him. Wood splinters and chunks of plaster pattered down, and a patron at the next table nearly spat out his drink.

"Keep your mouth shut when you're drunk!!"

Hanging in the wall, Jiraiya's voice came muffled through the crack.

"...Was I wrong?"

Tsunade stood still, fist clenched.

Her chest rose and fell.

She didn't turn around.

She was afraid that if she did, she wouldn't be able to hide her expression. She grabbed the cup she hadn't finished and downed it in one go.

The liquor caught in her throat, burning her eyes.

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

He brushed the dust off Jiraiya's shoulders and helped him into his chair.

Jiraiya tilted his head and squinted at him.

"...You could at least say something."

Kitahara Kaede didn't respond.

He took money from his pouch and set it on the table, adding extra to cover the wall repairs.

Tsunade had already stood up and was heading out.

Her steps weren't quite steady, but her back was ramrod straight.

Kitahara Kaede turned and followed her.

Jiraiya's voice came from behind them, low and slurred, as if he were talking to himself.

"Get her home."

Kitahara Kaede didn't look back.

"Got it."

The streets were nearly empty. September's night breeze carried a chill.

Tsunade walked ahead of him, faster than usual, as though she were running from something.

Or hurrying toward something.

Kitahara Kaede followed half a step behind without saying a word.

After a while, Tsunade spoke first.

"That idiot Jiraiya says nothing but nonsense when he's drunk."

"Yeah."

"Don't take him seriously."

"Yeah."

"..."

They walked a little farther.

Tsunade stumbled.

Kitahara Kaede reached out and caught her by the arm.

Tsunade tried to shake him off, but couldn't.

"I'm fine. I can walk."

Kitahara Kaede let go.

She took two more steps, her heel twisted sideways, and her shoulder bumped into the wall beside the road.

Kitahara Kaede walked in front of her and turned around.

He crouched down.

Tsunade looked down at his back.

"Get on."

"I said..."

"If you fall into a ditch, the whole village will know tomorrow that the First's granddaughter passed out beside a filthy ditch."

She was quiet for a few seconds.

She heard herself click her tongue.

Then her weight tipped forward.

Her arms went around his shoulders, and her chin rested against his shoulder.

Kitahara Kaede supported her beneath the knees and stood up.

She was lighter than he'd expected.

He began walking.

Tsunade's hair slipped over his shoulder, its loose ends brushing his neck.

Her breath warmed the spot behind his ear, each exhale soft and steady.

Kitahara Kaede kept his eyes ahead.

After they'd walked one street, the person on his back shifted.

Tsunade turned her face slightly toward his neck.

Her lips were almost against the edge of his ear.

She didn't speak.

But he could feel her lips move.

"What do you want to say?"

No sound came.

A few seconds later, she buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder.

Her arms tightened a little.

Kitahara Kaede didn't ask again.

He walked slowly.

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

Tonight, he took a detour.

There was no rush.

No one was waiting.

The breathing on his back gradually grew softer and deeper.

The arm hanging in front of his shoulder slowly relaxed. Her fingers drooped, the tips brushing lightly against his chest.

She was asleep.

Kitahara Kaede turned his head.

Her face was right there.

Impossibly close.

Golden wisps of hair clung to her cheeks. Her lashes were lowered, and the tip of her nose was faintly flushed from the alcohol.

Her lips were parted.

Her breath slipped through them, so softly it was as if she were afraid of waking someone.

Kitahara Kaede watched her for two seconds.

Then he turned his gaze back ahead.

They were almost at the end of the road.

He knocked.

There was a rustling sound from inside.

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

His eyes were bleary with sleep, and his hair stuck up like a bird's nest.

First, he saw Kitahara Kaede.

Then he saw Tsunade draped over his back.

His eyes lit up, and his sleepiness vanished.

"Brother Kaede."

Nawaki lowered his voice, his expression a magnificent display of barely contained excitement.

"Did you win my sister over?"

Kitahara Kaede looked at the gossip written all over the face—so much like Tsunade's—and his temple twitched.

Just as he thought.

Kids in the Naruto world really did grow up fast.

"Your sister just drank too much."

Nawaki stepped aside to let him through, biting down hard on his back teeth. His whole face trembled with the effort.

Kitahara Kaede carried Tsunade down the hall.

He pushed open her bedroom door.

Then gently laid her on the bed.

Tsunade rolled over and clutched the edge of the blanket, her brow furrowing slightly.

She mumbled something, too indistinct to make out.

Kitahara Kaede reached out and brushed the stray hairs stuck to her forehead aside.

The moment his fingertips touched her forehead, her brow relaxed.

He watched her for a while.

Then he pulled the thin blanket over her shoulders.

He turned and left, closing the door behind him.

In the hallway,

Nawaki leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his bare feet on the floor. He could no longer hold back his grin.

"Sensei—"

"Yeah?"

"Your ears are red."

"I drank too much."

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

"Tomorrow's training gets an extra hour."

"..."

Nawaki fell silent.

Kitahara Kaede ruffled his hair and started for the exit.

After three steps,

"Sensei."

Nawaki's voice suddenly changed.

Kitahara Kaede turned around.

Nawaki stood in the middle of the hallway, all traces of his cheeky grin gone.

He was twelve, but his eyes looked like a grown man's.

"Treat my sister well."

He paused.

"Or I'll beat you up."

Kitahara Kaede looked at him.

Then he smiled.

"Sure."