Saving face for yamikinoko
Title: Saving Face
Author: Martinique at FF.net
Requester:
yamikinoko
Request: Jiraiya/Tsunade
Genres: Friendship/Romance/Introspection/Angst
Rating: T/R?
Summary: Tsunade considers their relationship and comes up short.
Notes: Spoilers for the last few chapters of the manga, so don't read if you don't know what is going on, haha. My first attempt at writing canon Tsunade/Jiraiya, so there's a little bit of akwardness with the timings. My sincere apologies for the late posting, not only did I totally forget about this, but I've also started a new job that's kept me super-busy. Hope you enjoy this, though I think it may be more than a little waffy...?
The light of day was incongruous with the news that it bore. Jiraiya, fallen. Two out of three - that old Konoha saying, an admission that something would be lost, had struck again. Once more, she had lost something precious, had lost another part of her soul.
If it weren't for the bonds that tied her here again, she would pick up wandering once more. She would gamble and gamble and gamble away all her money in the hopes that one day she'd hit a lucky streak and then be able to fall in love, carelessly.
When salt kills toads, it is hard to disperse bad spirits. Tsunade thought, perhaps, that the bad spirits emanated from her.
He had almost proven her wrong. She had almost been ready to break down and let him prop her up, like he had done back then when her brother died. It was such a dark time then, and he had proven himself to be invaluable. In fact, had he been there when Dan died - who knows what may have happened if their paths had crossed more often, if she hadn't drugged him that once and pushed their friendship to the very limits.
Perhaps she would have been happier. Tsunade isn't sure about that. The tears in her eyes tell her that dredging up old memories is a sure recipe for swollen cheeks. She isn't ready to admit defeat on this issue, isn't ready to accept that he has not escaped somehow - isn't hiding under a rock, nursing his wounds.
Breathing out, Tsunade can tell that the air is laden with pollen, the sweet smell of the flowering trees is almost choking, and reminds her of that one time, when they had been young and awkward.
Like was his tendency, he had made some comment about her figure, one that had turned out to include scarily accurate estimations of her measurements. It had made her doubt his commitment to life, given her own rather infamous temper in her youth. At the same time, it had made her smile - not at the time of course, but afterwards, when he came up to her, all shaggy and white and young, smiling that bright line of teeth at her and had apologised gently for his uncouth manners.
A day later, he asked her out for ice cream. It was a day like today, the pollen count drawing a direct line from the present to the past. He asked her what she wanted, ordering the coconut ice cream for her as requested and then paying. They sat on a bench, not talking about anything at all. It felt comfortable, the simple cool pleasure of ice cream and companionship.
Recounting this memory in her mind, Tsunade can't help but admit that a tear has escaped the confines of her eye and carved a path down her face, the splash of it from the edge of her jaw deafening despite the rush of leaves in the wind.
He put his arm around her, back then. She remembers that much, remembers herself giving a last lick at the ice cream and resting her head on his well-developed shoulders.
The what-ifs, his humanity and mercy, her choices in life - now that she is left here, on her own to fight for all that he believed in - it has all piled up, leaving her mired deep in the thick jungle of Konoha politics.
She should have said something back then. Later, when he walked her to her door - an end to a long day of him playing the perfect gentleman. He looked away, bashful - she remembers it clearly in her mind's eye, the scene shot in perfect colour - the tint of red on his cheeks betraying his anxiety.
He asked her, then, “Will we be friends forever?”. Tsunade has never forgotten those words, despite the fact that they were spoken over 30 years ago. She remembers because at the exact moment he uttered those words, mumbled sideways out of the wide gash that made his mouth, his eyes pinned her down, searching for an answer.
What else could she answer back then, but “Of course?”. What else could she do, but let him grasp her hip bone with one of his big hands, sucking onto her skin as though he were truly a toad, letting him draw her in with a kiss to her cheek - it was unfathomable. But yet it felt so right.
And now, after years of saving face, after years of hoarding her youth, Tsunade felt the years roll with the full force of a tsunami into her being, pushing away all belief of justice. Half a century of life on this earth, and now she felt truly alone, drifting like log wood in a current that has long dwindled and died, only to be caught by another one. Far from home, and certainly not where she had planned to end up.
But that contact, that day, was perhaps the most intimate, relaxed moment between them. It spoke of the many things that could be, if they had worked at it, if either of them had taken the opportunity, if she hadn't met Dan, if he hadn't stayed behind to teach those children. Ifs upon ifs doubling up on each other. They had been friends forever, the best and worst kind, always certain of the benefits of maintaining their relationship as it then stood, unwilling to explore further.
He had nearly managed to crack her. He had thrown such looks at her just after coming back with Naruto, looks that had made her frown at him with the unbridled appreciation they showed.
It is just that this time, Tsunade wishes that she had said yes. Because at least, all other times she had tried, she had experienced. And the depth of their relationship was still only skimming the shallows of the ocean, coasting in the safe currents as opposed to taking the courage, the breath needed to plunge into the depths and experience true wonder.
Tsunade detachedly notes the stream of tears down her cheeks, the sharp bite of the wind tangling her hair. They had both saved face, they had both fought hard for so many others - but for themselves, they had lost something far more important, had failed to save their own hearts.
Pulling at the black netting around her eyes, face damp, Tsunade strides out to pay her respects at his grave.
Author: Martinique at FF.net
Requester:
yamikinoko
Request: Jiraiya/Tsunade
Genres: Friendship/Romance/Introspection/Angst
Rating: T/R?
Summary: Tsunade considers their relationship and comes up short.
Notes: Spoilers for the last few chapters of the manga, so don't read if you don't know what is going on, haha. My first attempt at writing canon Tsunade/Jiraiya, so there's a little bit of akwardness with the timings. My sincere apologies for the late posting, not only did I totally forget about this, but I've also started a new job that's kept me super-busy. Hope you enjoy this, though I think it may be more than a little waffy...?
The light of day was incongruous with the news that it bore. Jiraiya, fallen. Two out of three - that old Konoha saying, an admission that something would be lost, had struck again. Once more, she had lost something precious, had lost another part of her soul.
If it weren't for the bonds that tied her here again, she would pick up wandering once more. She would gamble and gamble and gamble away all her money in the hopes that one day she'd hit a lucky streak and then be able to fall in love, carelessly.
When salt kills toads, it is hard to disperse bad spirits. Tsunade thought, perhaps, that the bad spirits emanated from her.
He had almost proven her wrong. She had almost been ready to break down and let him prop her up, like he had done back then when her brother died. It was such a dark time then, and he had proven himself to be invaluable. In fact, had he been there when Dan died - who knows what may have happened if their paths had crossed more often, if she hadn't drugged him that once and pushed their friendship to the very limits.
Perhaps she would have been happier. Tsunade isn't sure about that. The tears in her eyes tell her that dredging up old memories is a sure recipe for swollen cheeks. She isn't ready to admit defeat on this issue, isn't ready to accept that he has not escaped somehow - isn't hiding under a rock, nursing his wounds.
Breathing out, Tsunade can tell that the air is laden with pollen, the sweet smell of the flowering trees is almost choking, and reminds her of that one time, when they had been young and awkward.
Like was his tendency, he had made some comment about her figure, one that had turned out to include scarily accurate estimations of her measurements. It had made her doubt his commitment to life, given her own rather infamous temper in her youth. At the same time, it had made her smile - not at the time of course, but afterwards, when he came up to her, all shaggy and white and young, smiling that bright line of teeth at her and had apologised gently for his uncouth manners.
A day later, he asked her out for ice cream. It was a day like today, the pollen count drawing a direct line from the present to the past. He asked her what she wanted, ordering the coconut ice cream for her as requested and then paying. They sat on a bench, not talking about anything at all. It felt comfortable, the simple cool pleasure of ice cream and companionship.
Recounting this memory in her mind, Tsunade can't help but admit that a tear has escaped the confines of her eye and carved a path down her face, the splash of it from the edge of her jaw deafening despite the rush of leaves in the wind.
He put his arm around her, back then. She remembers that much, remembers herself giving a last lick at the ice cream and resting her head on his well-developed shoulders.
The what-ifs, his humanity and mercy, her choices in life - now that she is left here, on her own to fight for all that he believed in - it has all piled up, leaving her mired deep in the thick jungle of Konoha politics.
She should have said something back then. Later, when he walked her to her door - an end to a long day of him playing the perfect gentleman. He looked away, bashful - she remembers it clearly in her mind's eye, the scene shot in perfect colour - the tint of red on his cheeks betraying his anxiety.
He asked her, then, “Will we be friends forever?”. Tsunade has never forgotten those words, despite the fact that they were spoken over 30 years ago. She remembers because at the exact moment he uttered those words, mumbled sideways out of the wide gash that made his mouth, his eyes pinned her down, searching for an answer.
What else could she answer back then, but “Of course?”. What else could she do, but let him grasp her hip bone with one of his big hands, sucking onto her skin as though he were truly a toad, letting him draw her in with a kiss to her cheek - it was unfathomable. But yet it felt so right.
And now, after years of saving face, after years of hoarding her youth, Tsunade felt the years roll with the full force of a tsunami into her being, pushing away all belief of justice. Half a century of life on this earth, and now she felt truly alone, drifting like log wood in a current that has long dwindled and died, only to be caught by another one. Far from home, and certainly not where she had planned to end up.
But that contact, that day, was perhaps the most intimate, relaxed moment between them. It spoke of the many things that could be, if they had worked at it, if either of them had taken the opportunity, if she hadn't met Dan, if he hadn't stayed behind to teach those children. Ifs upon ifs doubling up on each other. They had been friends forever, the best and worst kind, always certain of the benefits of maintaining their relationship as it then stood, unwilling to explore further.
He had nearly managed to crack her. He had thrown such looks at her just after coming back with Naruto, looks that had made her frown at him with the unbridled appreciation they showed.
It is just that this time, Tsunade wishes that she had said yes. Because at least, all other times she had tried, she had experienced. And the depth of their relationship was still only skimming the shallows of the ocean, coasting in the safe currents as opposed to taking the courage, the breath needed to plunge into the depths and experience true wonder.
Tsunade detachedly notes the stream of tears down her cheeks, the sharp bite of the wind tangling her hair. They had both saved face, they had both fought hard for so many others - but for themselves, they had lost something far more important, had failed to save their own hearts.
Pulling at the black netting around her eyes, face damp, Tsunade strides out to pay her respects at his grave.