It was a summer night, yet snow filled the skies over the Land of Frost, on the fringes of the shinobi world.
In an open-air hot spring amid the snowy fields, a man lay with his upper body above the water, his arms folded behind his head and a wet towel covering his face.
From the other side of the rock he leaned against came the clear, pleasant sound of washing. The sound alone conjured an image of a young woman amid the mist, scooping warm water into her soft hands and pouring it over her fragrant hair and skin...
The man lifted the towel slightly, revealing his mouth and the red lines on his cheeks.
"Sorry, Konan. The hot springs open on Saturdays in the Land of Frost only offer mixed bathing..."
A cool voice came from the steam on the other side of the rock.
"Would you really not know that, Jiraiya-sensei, when you've traveled all over the shinobi world and know the customs of every region?"
"Hahahaha..." Jiraiya laughed heartily. "I really did forget this time. These are troubled times, after all."
"Yes. I know you're an honorable man, Sensei. You do have a few blemishes that are impossible to overlook, but overall, your virtues still outweigh your flaws..."
As she spoke, Konan rose from the other side of the rock... Her wet hair gave off a faint fragrance as she waded to the edge, wrapped her flushed body in a pale purple bathrobe, and gently sat down.
Creak... The wooden boards gave a soft groan beneath her.
Jiraiya's expression grew grave. "How did that matter go?"
Konan folded a purple flower out of paper, tucked it beside her hair, and spoke.
"According to that craftsman, someone did come asking about the identity of the person who