Naruto : Blazing Legend

Chapter 47: Risks

The investigation concluded within hours, but its aftermath lingered like smoke in still air. Word spread through Konoha's networks—official and otherwise—painting a picture that made grown men wince and ambitious suitors reconsider their life choices.

The village's eligible jonins, those who had harbored quiet hopes about the legendary Tsunade, found themselves staring into mirrors and asking uncomfortable questions. Could they survive what Jiraiya had barely endured? The crater where he'd landed still hadn't been fully repaired, serving as a reminder of the difference between fantasy and reality.

Morning light filtered through the hospital ward's windows, casting pale rectangles across sterile floors. Sarutobi Hiruzen sat beside Jiraiya's bed, his old face etched with the particular exhaustion that came from dealing with the same disappointment year after year.

"You never learn," the Third Hokage said, his voice carrying decades of frustrated mentorship. "At your age, with your reputation, and you're still crawling around on rooftops like some perverted academy student."

Jiraiya turned his head away with the stubborn pride of a man who knew he was wrong but couldn't bring himself to admit it. His neck moved stiffly, bandages restricting the motion. "Spare me the lecture, old man. If some bastard hadn't kicked me, I never would have been caught."

Rei shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the weight of guilt pressing against his ribs like a physical thing. The man in the bed was thanking him for nearly getting him killed, and the irony tasted bitter in his mouth.

"It was... nothing," Rei managed, his voice carefully neutral. "Anyone would have done the same."

The Third left after delivering a few more pointed remarks about dignity and age-appropriate behavior. But Rei could see the older man's real concern in the way his eyes lingered on Jiraiya's bandaged form. These weren't just scoldings—they were the worried reproaches of someone who'd watched a promising student spiral into self-destructive patterns for too many years.

When they were alone, the room filled with a different kind of tension. Rei found himself studying Jiraiya's profile, noting the way the man's usual boisterous energy had dimmed to something more fragile.

"She was shaking," Rei said quietly, the words coming out before he could stop them. "Lady Tsunade. After she hit you, her hands were trembling."

Jiraiya's eyes sharpened, focusing on something beyond the hospital room's walls. "You noticed that too?"

The admission hung between them, heavy with implications. Here was one of the legendary Sannin, reduced to hoping that a child might offer some insight into the woman who'd nearly killed him. The desperation beneath his casual tone was almost painful to witness.

"You can't tell anyone about this," Jiraiya said, his voice dropping to something serious and urgent. "If the wrong people knew about her... condition... it could be used against her."

Rei nodded, understanding more than he wanted to. In their world, weakness was currency that enemies collected and spent without mercy. Tsunade's fear of blood wasn't just a personal trauma—it was a strategic vulnerability that could doom entire missions.

"Why don't you just tell her how you feel?" The question escaped before Rei could consider its implications. "Instead of... this."

Jiraiya's face went through several expressions in rapid succession—surprise, embarrassment, anger, and finally something that looked like defeat. "What would you know about it, kid? She's not some girl you can just walk up to and—"

"But you do care about her." It wasn't a question.

The silence that followed was answer enough. Jiraiya's carefully constructed facade of casual lechery cracked, revealing glimpses of something raw and unguarded underneath. Here was a man who'd spent years hiding behind jokes and perverted antics rather than risk genuine vulnerability.

"When you're better," Rei said, the words coming out with more confidence than he felt, "I'll teach you how to actually talk to her. Like a person instead of a target."

He left before Jiraiya could respond, but not before catching the man's stunned expression. Behind him, muffled through the hospital walls, came the sound of his name being shouted with enough force to rattle windows.

---

Six months crawled by. Winter settled over Konoha with the particular cruelty of a season that highlighted how alone people could be even in crowded places. Rei's eleventh birthday passed unmarked and unnoticed, just another day in a calendar full of mission reports and classified briefings.

The ANBU work had changed him in ways he was still cataloguing. Blown bridges, silent assassinations, infiltration missions that required him to smile at people he'd been sent to kill—each assignment left its mark. He'd become efficient at violence, clinical in his approach to ending lives, and that efficiency terrified him more than any enemy ever had.

When Jiraiya appeared at his door that winter evening, Rei barely recognized him. The legendary ninja looked older somehow, worn down by months of unsuccessful attempts at something he couldn't quite name.

"You made me a promise," Jiraiya said without preamble, pushing past Rei into the small apartment. "And I'm here to collect."

It took Rei several moments to remember what he was talking about. The months had blurred together, filled with sealed scrolls and blood-stained kunai and the mechanical repetition of techniques designed to end human lives. Personal conversations felt like artifacts from someone else's life.

"Right," he said finally, gesturing toward the small table where he'd been working. "The Tsunade situation."

The words felt strange in his mouth, reducing what was clearly a profound emotional wound to the level of a tactical problem. But maybe that was what Jiraiya needed—someone who could look at his decades of failure and offer practical solutions instead of sympathy.

They sat across from each other, sharing food that Rei's shadow clone had prepared. The normalcy of the meal felt surreal after months of ration bars and battlefield conditions.

"It's actually simple," Rei said, watching Jiraiya's face cycle through skepticism and hope. "Stop hiding behind jokes and actually be honest with her. Persistence, but not the stalking kind. The kind that shows you're serious about seeing her as more than a conquest or a challenge."

Jiraiya's chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth. "That's it? Just... be direct?"

"Most relationships in this world happen because someone finally gets tired of waiting for the other person to make the first move," Rei explained, thinking of all the couples he'd observed over the years. "The people who end up together are usually the ones who decide that potential embarrassment is worth less than certain regret."

He watched understanding dawn on Jiraiya's face, followed quickly by something that looked like panic. Here was a man who could face down enemy armies without flinching, reduced to terror by the prospect of an honest conversation with someone he cared about.

"She's been waiting for you to grow up," Rei continued, his voice gentler now. "To stop treating her like a punchline and start seeing her as a person. But you've been so busy being afraid of rejection that you never gave her the chance to actually accept you."

The silence stretched between them, filled with the weight of decades of missed opportunities and misunderstood signals. Jiraiya's hands shook slightly as he set down his chopsticks, and Rei realized he was witnessing something rare—one of the legendary Sannin allowing himself to be truly vulnerable.

"What if I've waited too long?" The question came out barely above a whisper.

Rei considered this, thinking of all the ways people damaged each other through good intentions and poor timing. "Then at least you'll know," he said finally. "And she'll know too. Either way, it's better than spending the rest of your life wondering what might have been."

When Jiraiya left that night, he carried himself differently—less like a man running from something and more like someone who'd finally decided to stop running. Rei watched him disappear into the darkness beyond his doorway and hoped he hadn't just given advice that would result in another crater in Konoha's landscape.

But some risks, he thought, were worth taking. Even if the potential for devastation was absolute.