Early the next morning, before the sky had fully brightened, silence lay over the inn and its surroundings, broken only by the occasional distant crow of a rooster and the faint rustle of wind brushing the eaves.
A tall figure slipped soundlessly out of a guest room on the third floor.
It was Jiraiya.
He wore his trademark red outer coat over dark, close-fitting clothes, his white hair looking somewhat tousled in the faint dawn light.
First, he tilted his head to listen, his sharp gaze sweeping over the closed door of Sasuke's room next door. Only after confirming that there was no movement inside did he nod in satisfaction.
Then his figure flickered, and he vaulted lightly over the third-floor railing as though he weighed nothing.
On the way down, he touched the wooden stair rail with the tip of his foot to cushion his descent, then landed soundlessly on the floor of the first-floor lobby. His movements were as light as a cat prowling at night, without a single unnecessary sound.
He straightened his coat, glanced toward the inn's front door, and started to head outside.
"What are you going to do?"
A cool, calm voice suddenly came from the second-floor landing.
Jiraiya stopped and looked up, somewhat surprised.
Sasuke Uchiha was already fully dressed, the Kusanagi Sword strapped to his back. With his arms folded across his chest, he leaned against the second-floor railing, his black eyes quietly fixed on Jiraiya and his brows slightly furrowed.
"Well, well, if it isn't Sasuke."
A slightly lazy, embarrassed smile instantly spread across Jiraiya's face, and he scratched his messy white hair.
"Up so early? Why not get a little more rest? Tsunade's treatment was effective, but it took a lot out of you."
Sasuke ignored the remark about resting.