Documentary Literature and Homecoming Meals

They had been traveling for days.

The sky above finally cleared.

The dark clouds that rained incessantly were left behind, and the sunlight fell straight down, warm to the point of feeling unreal.

Jiraiya stopped and stretched his back with a loud crack, his bones popping in a series.

"Finally, I'm alive again! My bones were about to grow mold in the Land of Rain."

Tsunade ignored him, though her pace was noticeably lighter than it had been over the past two days.

Kitahara Kaede walked at the back, glancing behind him.

The direction of Amegakure remained shrouded in a dark gray curtain of rain.

He withdrew his gaze and caught up with the group.

Passing through a small border town, the market had just opened.

Tempura sizzled in a pot of oil, and the ramen stalls drifted with enticing white steam.

Jiraiya's feet seemed rooted to the ground.

"I'm not moving."

His eyes were fixed intently on a noodle stall.

"I've been gnawing on cold rations for half a month; nobody is stopping me from having a hot meal today."

Tsunade shot him a look of disdain, yet she was the first to pull out a bench and sit down.

Three bowls of chashu ramen were placed on the table.

Jiraiya buried his face in his bowl, slurping loudly enough that customers at the next table turned to look.

Tsunade hadn't touched her chopsticks yet, her brow furrowing.

"Can you not make so much noise while eating?"

Jiraiya swallowed a mouthful of noodles and gave a thumbs-up.

"Delicious!"

Tsunade rolled her eyes and picked up her chopsticks.

Kitahara Kaede said nothing; he picked up the largest piece of chashu from his own bowl and placed it into Tsunade's.

Tsunade's chopsticks paused, and she looked up to glare at him.

"Eat what's in your own bowl."

Her tone was sharp, but her chopsticks were honest, quickly stuffing the meat into her mouth.

Jiraiya looked at Kitahara Kaede, then at Tsunade, his mouth twitching.

He jabbed his chopsticks into his bowl and crossed his arms, leaning against the edge of the table.

"I've decided."

"Decided what?" Tsunade didn't even look up.

"I'm going to write a novel when I get back," Jiraiya said with a serious face. "Dedicated to myself."

Tsunade finally looked up.

"Write what?"

"About a man who silently protects the woman he loves for twenty years," Jiraiya drew a circle in the air with his chopsticks. "Only for that woman to never once look at him properly."

Tsunade chewed her noodles and replied slowly with four words.

"That's called documentary literature."

Kitahara Kaede took a sip of tea, the rim of the cup hiding his mouth.

Jiraiya's face fell, and he slammed his hand on the table.

"Are you even human! I poured my heart and soul—"

"The noodles are getting cold, shut up and eat."

Tsunade picked up a piece of chashu and shoved it into her mouth without even glancing at him.

Jiraiya looked at the expressionless Tsunade, then at Kitahara Kaede, who was sprinkling shichimi spice into his noodles.

Defeated, he buried his face in his bowl.

"Documentary literature it is, then. At least I can earn royalties."

Three days later, at dusk.

Konoha's South Gate.

Nawaki squatted at the base of the city wall, holding half a rice ball.

Three figures slowly walked toward the end of the main road.

His eyes lit up, and he stuffed the rest of the rice ball into his mouth, sprinting forward.

"Sis!"

Tsunade stopped.

Nawaki rushed up and collided with her in a hug.

Tsunade hesitated for a moment before reaching out to hold him, ruffling his hair vigorously.

"You're back."

Nawaki poked his head out and turned to Kitahara Kaede.

"Master! You aren't hurt, are you?"

"No."

Nawaki grinned, beaming with genuine, silly joy.

Jiraiya stood behind them, watching with a sour expression as he scratched his spiky hair.

"Must be nice. I wish someone would wait for me at the city gate."

No one paid him any mind.

"Fine, once this novel of mine becomes a bestseller, I'm sure plenty of beautiful girls will be lining up to wait for me."

Nawaki turned his head.

"Uncle Jiraiya, the noodle broth on your collar has crusted over."

Jiraiya glared.

"You little brat, you're just like your sister, always pointing out people's flaws!"

Night fell at Kitahara Kaede's house.

The stove was lit, Tsunade wore an apron while pan-frying saury, and Kitahara Kaede was at the sink slicing radish.

Nawaki was in charge of setting the table, while Jiraiya paced the living room, peeking into the kitchen every time he passed.

"Is it ready yet?"

"No."

"Is it ready yet?"

"Ask again and you won't get any dinner tonight."

Jiraiya pulled his head back, feeling wronged.

The four of them sat around the table.

Saury, miso soup, radish salad, and cucumber salad.

Nawaki gestured wildly while shoveling rice into his mouth.

"Master, while you were gone, I took on three missions! On the third one, I almost performed a major feat!"

He held his chopsticks, his face flushed with excitement.

"The target for that mission was wrong; even the lead jonin didn't notice. The forest ahead was too quiet, the client's story didn't match the environment along the way, and the turf on that section of the road had clearly been tampered with."

"If we had proceeded as usual, the whole team would have walked straight into an ambush."

"Thanks to those three months you spent drilling my observation skills and wilderness survival, I overruled everyone and called a halt to the team. Sure enough, we avoided an ambush!"

"The lead jonin's eyes nearly popped out of his head, and he praised me for having such a great master in front of the whole team!"

Tsunade listened, picking out a large piece of boneless fish and placing it into his bowl.

"Stop showing off and just eat."

Her tone lacked its usual severity, replaced by a rare gentleness.

Under the table, Nawaki seized the moment when Tsunade wasn't looking to shoot a glance at Jiraiya.

He held a crumpled paper ball in his hand, ready to toss it over in exchange for a few of Jiraiya's "masterpieces."

Jiraiya understood, his hand opening secretly under the table.

Kitahara Kaede tapped his chopsticks against the edge of his bowl.

His gaze swept over them, calm and steady.

Nawaki's hand trembled, the paper ball dropping safely back into his pocket as he lowered his head to shovel rice.

Jiraiya coughed dryly and turned to study the texture of the ceiling as if nothing had happened.

After the meal, Jiraiya, full and satisfied, wisely slipped away early.

Tsunade grabbed Nawaki to wash the dishes, complaining about his slow pace as she watched him.

Once finished, Nawaki yawned and pushed open the door.

"Sis, hurry up, I'm exhausted."

Tsunade gave him a push.

"You go on ahead, I still have something to say."

Nawaki muttered as he stepped out.

Only the two of them remained in the house.

Tsunade was putting on her shoes in the entryway, her back to Kitahara Kaede.

The night breeze blew in through the gap in the door, causing the loose strands of hair by her ears to sway gently.

"Rest tomorrow. We'll report to the teacher the day after."

"Mm."

Her fingers tightened against the doorframe, but she didn't turn around.

A few seconds of silence passed.

"That matter..."

Her voice was very low.

"You said it, after the war ended..."

She stopped, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Kitahara Kaede looked at her back.

He stepped forward, standing half a pace behind her.

"I'll prepare for it."

His voice was steady.

"After the meeting the day after tomorrow..."

Her shoulders slowly relaxed.

Her ears turned bright red, the heat spreading down her neck.

Outside on the quiet street, Nawaki's impatient voice suddenly rang out.

"Sis! Are you done yet! I want to go to sleep!"

Tsunade jumped.

"What's the rush! I'm coming!"

She threw the door open and rushed out without looking back.

The door slammed shut behind her.

Kitahara Kaede stood in the entryway, listening to the bickering of the siblings as their voices faded into the distance.