Tsunade betrayed little emotion when Jiraiya told her about Orochimaru and his underground lair. If he knew his princess though, she was getting shit-faced right now in any of the half-dozen bars she frequented.

Jiraiya didn't feel like drinking. He never understood why Tsunade (or a number of other shinbi he knew) drowned their troubles in alcohol. For him alcohol was for celebration. That didn't leave him with much to take his mind off with.

The wooden block splintered in a spiral pattern as it came into contact with the Rasengan. Dammit. He had been working on perfecting his student's technique, but it was a lot harder than it looked. Still, training helped him siphon some of his restlessness productively.

He shook his head. That was only a half-truth. The full truth was that he was avoiding the report that he knew he had to write. But he could put it off no longer, and there would be no better time than now. He was making no progress with the Rasengan. Minato was back, but had understandably wanted to spend more time with the Uzumaki girl than with his perverted old sensei.

So he finally sat down at his desk and got to work. He started the report with the festival, recounting, as far as his memory would allow, the circumstances of the night he met Suki.

Even though he could hardly be said to have known Suki, Jiraiya found his pen hesitating. He threw down the pen and leaned back in his chair until the back of the chair found its familiar groove in the wall. She didn't deserve to die. Not like this. He made his decision as he scowled at the crack in his ceiling.

The words flowed effortlessly once he began, and he soon found that he had a flair for it. From beginning to end, it was a comic tale of flamboyant seduction and bisexual identity farces, of hilarious misunderstandings and drunken debauchery. But most of all, it was a tale with a happy ending. Finishing the last sentence felt cathartic. He knew that in a few days it would seem amateurish, puerile, but that didn't matter.

He thought for a while about what his story should be called, but he found himself drawing a blank. Finally he threw up his arms in resignation. He still had that damn report to finish. On the top margin of the first page he scrawled down the first three words that came into his head:

ICHA ICHA PARADISE

Jiraiya chuckled to himself. It would have to do for a temporary title.

FIN