That Night

The full moon cast a solemn glow across Kohona. Its melancholic rays pick and choose where to share their blissful light while leaving the rest in the dark. At least, that is what Jiraiya thought. He sits on the roof of the Hokage Mansion, preparing himself. They're too much now, these emotions of his. He is unable to force them into submission any longer. They fight and claw their way up, bending him to their will. He has to free them. Too much time has passed being silent. Avoiding. Running.

He hops off, letting the wind rush past before landing on a familiar window's ledge. He knows it's late. However, according to Shizune, Tsunade should be working late tonight to catch up on her paperwork.

The window is open as it always is. However, the scene is not what he had been expecting to see when he stepped through the window. Instead of seeing Tsunade quietly working at her desk like he's seen so many times before, her room was trashed–bottles of sake and other assortments of liquor on every surface, paper strewn all over the floor, a knocked-over lamp was flickering, its fading luminescence doing little to shed light on the situation. He heard a groan and enters the room steadily.

Tsunade, a somberly pitiful sight, lies sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by empty glasses. Jiraiya glares down at her for a moment but feels the tension relax and softens. He moves to crouch beside her, nudging her slightly to rouse her from her deep sleep. She groans again, shifting and mumbling in defiance. She pushes him away.

"Come on," he says lowly, demanding.

She lazily pushes him away again, groggily mumbling an incoherent sentence, but he understood she was asking along the lines of what he was doing there. He ignores her, wrapping his arms around her back and under her knees. She looked horrible – her skin was flushed but exceedingly pale. Her once shining golden locks were now dull and lack the vibrant life they held before. He carries her to the bathroom of her apartment. She fights him. Absent-mindedly pushing off his chest, weakly trying to free herself of his firm grip. He had half a mind to let go and let her fall to the floor as she wants, but scolds himself for the thought. Her arms lazily flail as she grunts with the extra effort it took to defy him. Having enough of it, he gives her a gentle squeeze, getting her attention after the lag in her coherence catches up with her.

"Tsunade...look at me. Let me help you...please."

Her wobbling gaze meets his sternly dark ones, hardly comprehending the trace of the pleading within them. She lets her body relax, submitting to his will. She doesn't fight him as he sets her down on the bathroom stool or as he begins to help her undress. He stands before her, tugging her shirt over her head. But she's seeing past him. Moments of that night clouded her already blurring vision. Lost in the past. Absent in the present. And the hope for the future she's fixed for herself was fading with the cognizant world around her.

He removes her stained and tattered clothes respectfully, discarding them on the floor for the time being. He'd get to washing them later. He stands her up briefly to remove her pants and undergarment, tossing them aside with the rest. He sits her down on the stool again, watching and making sure she's stable enough for him to walk away momentarily. He turns away, walking over to the tub and twisting the faucet to fill the bath with warm water, running his hand under to confirm the temperature is adequate. As the tub fills, he glances at her zoned-out figure, which, even in her dissociation, had placed an arm across her chest. He makes his way behind her, working on the ties in her hair. As he delicately untangles one of the ties restraining her blonde pigtails, he hears her say something barely above a whisper. He pauses and lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Perv."

He has half a mind to laugh at the comment and the nerve to make fun of him right now. But despite the word, she does not make a move to stop him or say anything else. Almost as if calling him that was instinctual, something even her auto-pilot cannot escape from. He gently removes the other tie, setting one on the counter and wrapping the other around his wrist. He gathers her hair together at the top of her head, forming it to the best of his abilities to make a disheveled bun. Not like it matters much. It just needs to be out of the way for now.

"Not tonight," he stated lowly, the rasp doing little to conceal his exhaustion.

She doesn't say anything, simply staring ahead at the wall. He finishes tying up her hair and gently lifts her from the stool, picking her up and setting her in the warm water. He turns off the faucet now that it is filled. He finds the soap for her body and a sponge, rubbing it into a lather. He starts easy, gently massaging the suds onto her arms and shoulders and moving to her neck and chest. Then carefully, he lifts one leg out of the water at a time to clean. Every move is excruciatingly slow, taking the time to ensure not a speck of dirt is left behind. Gentle, to not damage her previously pristine porcelain skin. Politely placed delicate circles, caressing and cleansing her body and mind of the filth that plague them.

He carefully guides her to sit forward. Her head droops, too tired to hold its weight as he rubs gentle circles along her back. He sits her up straight again when he's finished, but her head doesn't raise with the action, her hands in her lap trembling. He watches as tears flow from her eyes silently, down her nose to drip rhythmically into the still water.

"Why..." she hiccups softly, her voice breaking, "Why are you doing this?"

He almost wants to ignore her. She knows the answer. Why does she have to make him say it right now? He inhales deeply.

"Because I love you. Always have and always will. You know that," he sighs heavily, "I'll be right back. Wash your intimate areas."

Although his words were harsh, there was a softness to his voice, indicating their truth. He's always been gentle, she thought. Even after everything she's put him through, his love for her never faltered. Only ever evolving and growing. Faithfully present despite her perpetual absence. She knows how much he loves her. Ever since they were kids, he never shied away from his feelings, like he had no doubt in his mind she was the one he wanted. For all their lives, that simple fact remained. Ever present.

Jiraiya returns to the bathtub, having found a pitcher nearby to rinse her off with, along with some of her hair products. He also grabbed a towel, setting it on the counter and the pitcher on the edge of the tub.

He sits on the side of the tub behind her, bringing her head back to rest against his thigh as he carefully soaks her hair, making sure the water does not run down her face, unbothered by his clothes getting wet.

"You know...we have to talk about it. You can't run away from me forever."

He softly lathers in the shampoo, massaging it gently into her scalp. Her eyes are trained on the ceiling–far away in another time. She has a blank expression as tears continue to fall down her temples. Unable to return in conversation.

"Fine. I'll talk," he asserts. He tries to calm himself before continuing, taking deep breaths.

"That night...was bittersweet. It seemed normal at first, hitting the pub like did so many times before. It was different that night, though. You were different. I knew what you were doing. I'm not an idiot. But I lied to myself, told myself it was finally my turn, my time to be happy. So I let you take it out on me. Use me to your will. I willingly broke my own heart, but I didn't care. "Just for one night," I told myself, " I'll be selfish." I shouldn't have been surprised when I woke up to an empty bed. It was for the best. Because although you took advantage of my feelings for you, I had taken advantage of your grief. That's why I didn't chase after you. I knew you hated yourself for what you did to me, just as I did myself. Then, the time came when the village needed you. I put everything, all my feelings, my emotions, I set them aside and brought Naruto along. I knew you wouldn't listen to me, and that kid," Jiraiya lets out a hollow laugh, "I knew he could convince you."

He takes the pitcher filling it with warm water to rinse the shampoo from her hair. Slowly the water flows through her hair, dragging the suds along with it, down the strands, and over his pants into the warm bath water below. She hadn't moved a muscle. He would have thought she fell asleep on him if her eyes weren't staring blankly at the ceiling. He couldn't blame her, but he needed to make sure she was still listening for this next part. He places a delicate hand on the side of her face getting her attention as he drags a calloused thumb along her cheek, collecting her tears for himself.

"But what hurt me the most...was that my best friend, my only love, had been lying to me. I felt like a fool after I found out. You had been back home a while before Katsume came along to confront you. You had months to tell me. Instead, you acted as though nothing had ever changed between us. You acted selfishly. You were not the only one affected that night. You could have tracked me down and informed me of your pregnancy with our daughter or sent someone, for that matter. Did you even try? We could have worked something out together, Tsunade. But if you were still adamant about not being a mother, I would have gladly taken on that role. Did you think I would be mad? Katsume didn't deserve to grow up thinking she had no one to love her."

Silence.

He takes a deep breath, his eyes trained on his hands as they work meticulously through her hair.

"I know why you did it. I don't need you to explain. I know the real reason, the one you didn't tell her. Shame. Guilt. Remorse... Dan... I mean, I didn't know the guy well, but do you really think he would've wanted this for you? I think he would have wanted you to be happy regardless of the missteps you made. You couldn't disappoint that man even if you tried."

He worked the conditioner through her blonde tresses, starting at the ends, gently detangling the knots as he worked his way up. He stayed quiet for a while, letting Tsunade take in his words as he rinsed the product from her hair. He can feel her breathing pick up, feeling her pulse quicken from her neck tensely resting against his leg. He needed to bring up Dan. There was no way around it, he thought. Her guilt over his death is the monster of this whole ordeal. Her paralyzing grief. The start of it all.

Jiraiya was to blame as well. He knew that. If he hadn't let his love for her cover his eyes in rose-colored glasses, he could've been the friend she needed that night. The one that cut her off when she had too much to drink. The one that would be a shoulder for her to hold onto as he walked her home. The one that got her a glass of water and tucked her into bed. The one that told her no. He couldn't be that friend for her then, but he was going to atone by being that friend to her now.

He rinses the suds away one more time before he drains the tub. He sits her up and grabs the towel off the counter. He pats her hair, squeezing the ends lightly to soak up the water. Then wraps the towel around her bare body and lifts her from the tub. He carries her to her bedroom, sitting her down at the edge of the bed, patting her body dry before he moved to find her something to sleep in. He sifts through her drawers, finding a light mid-length nightgown to be the easiest to manage. He puts it over her head, pulling her arms through. He kneels in front of her, maneuvering the fabric to cover her fully. He sits back on his knees, his hands coming up to cup her face as his thumbs wipe her tears away.

"I'm sorry, I'm not Dan. And I'm sorry I wasn't the person you needed that night yet. But I'm here now. I can be the person you need now. However you need me," he gives her a small smile, "I know you hate promises, so I won't say it. Just know I'm here now. "

Her tears flow more freely. Her features finally revealing with her emotions. She lets out heavy sobs, and it gets harder for her to catch her breath in between. Her body trembles and jolts with every cry. She finally lets go.

"I'm...so sorry, Jiraiya. I'm so sorry for everything."

She repeats her words over and over and over again. No matter how many times she says it, she thought, it'll never be enough. But she continues because it's all she has right now. The only words she can muster. She says them, wailing until her throat breaks and scratches, and she's too exhausted to put such force into them. She says them, softer as he pushes the hair from her face. She says them, even when he tells her to stop, that it is okay, to just stop crying. When he wraps his arms around her, pushing her face to his chest and muffling the cries. She keeps saying them. They're all she can offer to him because they're all she has right now.

He holds her, pressing her face into his chest as she let out everything she's kept deep in the depths of her soul. Too afraid to let them out again. Too afraid to mourn again. Because she didn't mourn properly the first time. Now she can let go. He's here now. In the way she needs. Not for his selfish desires but to truly start over with his closest friend. The love of his life is still there somewhere, but she needs time to heal. He doesn't expect her to show herself, but he would always be there if she did. He was ready for her now. He would wait as long as it takes and more. He had his friend, and that was enough for him.

He listens as her breathing steadies, as her cries dwindle into light hiccups. She cried for as long as it took her hair to dry, he thought, smiling as he runs his fingers through her silky locks, slowly but surely returning to their lively vibrance. Her breathing is deep and even, indicating to him that she had fallen asleep. He ticks her into bed, smiling softly as he gently moves the strand from her face, his other hand holding hers as his thumb caresses the back and forth over her smooth porcelain skin. He leans down, placing a chaste kiss on the top of her head. His hand slips from hers as he back away from her sleeping figure to the window. He would always wait for her. Even if the love of his life never reveals herself, he would be there for her anyway.

Besides...

It wasn't his fate to be happy.