'I guess it's time to put down my pen.'

The water was cool. The blood had washed away.

'Oh right, I need a title for the next book.'

He sank deeper.

'Ah… perfect…'

Everything was quiet, everything was peaceful.

'The Tale of Uzumaki Naruto.'

/

His sleep lasted a lifetime. That deep slumber was broken by the light of the sun. Snapping his eyes open, he took in the calm face of a lake. His body moved slowly, his fingers wiggled slowly at first then his arms moved and his knees unlocked. He looked to his feet that rested daintily on the water's surface without resistance. There was something wrong about that.

Bending down he dipped a finger in the water and felt no resistance. His finger didn't make a ripple, the lake didn't respond to his touch. He took a deep breath and noticed no air shifting. Taking slow steps, he began walking, the outline of a city shrinking behind him.

He wasn't sure why he was walking but staying on the water didn't feel natural. He wanted to be beneath a tree and right ahead was a forest, a beautiful one too. From the shore he finally got under the canopy. He couldn't feel the grass, the birds wouldn't give him a second glance and bark didn't scrape under his hands.

Sitting down beneath a particularly large oak tree, he noticed something heavy resting on his chest. There was a chain, laying over his plain green clothes, it stung when he tugged on it so he left it alone.

It was a beautiful day, he wished he could nap. That didn't seem like a good idea, his muscles felt weak. His fire was missing and his chest felt like a deflated balloon. The weight of the chain was the only connection he could feel.

"Enjoying the weather?"

The question was courteously asked, the speaker stood a few feet away, dressed in some kind of funeral wear. The man had short dark hair, bushy eyebrows and stubble around his mouth and chin.

"It's hard not to enjoy such a wonderful day." He replied, it felt natural to smile.

"I'm glad to hear that. You must be very confused, that's understandable."

"I don't feel very confused."

That struck the stranger as odd, judging by the frown.

"Nonetheless, I don't want to alarm but you can't remain here. I'm going to help you move on."

"Move on?" He certainly didn't want to move on. There were places to go, people to see, students to teach. But his students were all grown now weren't they?

The glint of lacquer drew his eyes to the sheathed sword the man had lifted from his waist.

"Now that's not necessary, let's get a drink and talk before pulling weapons huh?" It felt good to grin.

The funeral attendee didn't pause, though he did chuckle, "I'm afraid I'm on duty. Enjoy your trip."

"Am I going somewhere?" Any attempts to flex his muscles were only half successful, the usual rush of weightlessness was absent. His body was asleep.

Jerking forward, he went for the man's legs, bringing them both to the ground would even the odds. That plan had a critical flaw. The hilt of the sword was supposed to bounce off his forehead plate, throwing its owner off balance. Reality made it clear that his forehead was bare and the hilt slammed straight into his thick skull (that's what she used to call it at least) and then he began to glow.

From the outside it looked as if he aimed his head at the man's weapon. The stranger looked too shocked to speak. The light encompassed his whole vision and the sweet green of the forest bled away.

/

Everything was quiet, everything was peaceful.

Or it would have been, if not for the pounding of a hammer and the occasional curse. Sucking on his thumb, Jiraya stood from the rough door he was repairing and stretched his back. Whistling out a simple tune he strode down from the hill his shelter was built on, down to the edge of a large lake. Crouching next to a set of fishing poles, he gave it a quick tug, no bites.

Jiraya cleaned off his hands and walked back up the hill. Reaching into his "home", he grabbed a rough leather sack. Strapping his supplies on and securing a simple stone knife to his belt, the last piece of his kit was an unstrung bow and a quiver of stone-tipped arrows. Biting his finger Jiraya inscribed one of the bastardized seals he'd managed to scrape together above his door. Confident that no stray animals would be getting into his stores, the Sage set off into the forest.

Learning the lay of the land had taken a while, waking up with nothing but cheap clothes and an empty stomach didn't do Jiraya any favours. He'd always figured the Pure World would be a heaven where his every desire would be fulfilled, either that or he'd end up in the underworld being eaten by the Shinigami (he'd never been certain the Death God viewed Shinobi favourably, especially after Minato).

Eternal solitude in a forest was not his first or second choice for an afterlife. Making the best of it, Jiraya had set to foraging. Nuts and berries kept him going until his snares started catching game. Securing food was always the first priority when operating in the field.

Truth be told, old Jiraya hadn't been keeping track of time, too caught up in a simple life of being a hermit, the rest was spent reminiscing. Hunting and crafting tools brought up old memories of his genin days. Weeks spent with Tsunade, Orochimaru and Sensei out in the countryside. Learning, competing, getting on each other's nerves, fighting and then making up. Those times were some of the happiest in hindsight. Together by a campfire, his team was free of the weight and expectations from the village. Reputations and rumors were left behind and they could simply be together. Those weeks had ended quickly. Their talents were too good to be restrained and when it came time, their Chunin exam was used to send a message to the Tsuchikage. It was the first time Jiraya had killed someone younger than him.

Laying traps through the forest was a delicate task, if he kept them too clustered it would just force the critters to move somewhere else but if they were too far apart his catches might be stripped by something before he got to them. Orochimaru was a great hunter, he had a predatory instinct according to Sensei. Just another thing to be jealous of, a lifetime ago.

Dredging up old memories wasn't an enlightening experience, instead it had him thinking back on the mountains of mistakes as much as the brilliant decisions. Staying in Ame had always seemed like a good choice regardless of how Nagato had ended up. He'd been tired both in spirit and body, they all were. Tsunade and Orochimaru had been taken off the frontlines once they returned anyways so he hadn't exactly left them understaffed. That wasn't true though. They may not have needed his weapons but they needed his voice and his friendship. Tsunade had found solace in Dan and Nawaki, for as long as she could, but Orochimaru had nothing but the depths of the war effort. He returned to find Tsunade afraid of blood, and Orochimaru so withdrawn that they barely spoke. Reunited as a shell of their former team, the Sannin had helped end the Second War, but couldn't stop themselves from breaking in the process. Jiraiya had only lasted until Minato's death and then he'd left the village for nearly years at a time.

After a few days of hunting Jiraya decided to head back to camp. He'd gotten three hares from his traps and surprised a deer, quite a good haul. He took a scenic route home, it was late evening when his lake was back in view.

"Dammit." he cursed.

His fishing poles had come loose and drifted out into the lake. Taking a calming breath and dredging up what little energy he could, Jiraya pooled his crippled chakra into his feet and cautiously walked onto the lake.

It had been one big headache reconnecting with his chakra. He was no medical expert but his chakra should have been centred on the eight gates not diffused over his whole body. Without Tsunade and her vast knowledge or Orochimaru and his relentless curiosity, there was little chance of Jiraiya figuring the problem out on his own. His skills outside of espionage and combat had been neglected for a long time. Running an intelligence network for Konoha had shifted his priorities. Years of solo work, intermittent with temporary squads sent by Sensei for backup just proved it was impossible to fill the empty spots next to him. No one was quick enough, strong enough, even vicious enough to truly replicate the Sannin.

In a deep part of his soul, Jiraiya had always hoped that the Sannin would be reunited, for good or ill in the afterlife. Perhaps this was a punishment. The Toad Sage Jiraiya, eternally alone.

Grabbing the poles, he walked back and started putting together a fire. He finished off what was left of his stores after preparing his new catches. Laying down with a full stomach under the stars, everything was quiet, everything was peaceful.

/

Ribbit!

"Don't rush me."

Ribbit! Ribbit!

"It's almost done."

Ribbit! Ribbit! Ribbit!

"There!"

Jiraiya picked up the demanding toad at his feet and settled it down into the very impressive pond he just finished building. A multitude of rocks, reeds and moss in a well protected mini-cove, fed by the nearby lake.

The toad took a few steps before leaping into the water. Jiraiya made sure the water was flowing in and out properly. Satisfied, he gave the toad a pat on the head and made his way home.

Jiraiya the Gardener, Sensei would have laughed himself silly. He might be in tune with nature, but Jiraiya had never had a green thumb. Animals (more so toads), he loved, but a youthful distaste for vegetables and a bad allergic reaction to some fruit from Tea Country had given him a distaste for greens outside of filling his diet. As far as Jiraiya was concerned, rice was the greatest thing that could be grown, mostly because you could turn it into sake.

A small farm, a modest cabin and a pet toad. Naruto and Minato would have a field day, Jiraiya would've never lived it down. Maybe Naruto would be happy that his "pervert" tendencies were being hampered. Those two had never understood why women seemed to enjoy getting a good look at their old master.

A few months after settling, Jiraya got curious as to what happened to his features. He vaguely recalled a monk teaching that our souls had no physical form and were simply expressions of our inner purity. Well he certainly had hands and his hair was still white. Putting together a makeshift water mirror was a real shock, Jiraya looked great. Oh sure, he was always dashing, his age just shifted a virile charm into enticing expertise. The bowl revealed his wrinkles had nearly disappeared, judging by his tattoos he looked in his mid 30s, about the age he got his genin team.

"I may look young, but I sure do putter like an oldy." he chuckled to himself.

Jiraiya was so caught up in his own world he almost missed the quick flash of colour at the edge of his vision. Letting it pass by, as if unnoticed, he casually sauntered back to his cabin. Slipping inside he picked up a knife and set a small bundle of kindling to burn right at the chimney mouth. Dropping down the tunnel below his cot, he emerged in the forest outside his clearing.

With a wide view of the lake, he settled into the foliage ready to wait out his unannounced guests. It might have just been a stray animal but 50 years of ingrained paranoia was something even death couldn't wipe away easily.

His body froze when two teenagers emerged from the treeline. Both in threadbare robes, naked feet with dirty shins. They halted a hundred or so metres from his cabin then turned and called behind them. An older woman answered, joining them before gripping their hands and then proceeded on alone.

She reached the bottom of the hill as Jiraiya snapped out of his shock. Compartmentalizing the overflow of relief, he covered his knife with his coat but kept it accessible. Using the trees and the shadow from the noon sun, he masked his approach. As the woman knocked on his front door, doing her best to keep her nerves hidden, he silently settled himself onto the rough carved stool just out of her peripheral vision.

Waiting until she gave another knock, Jiraya lightly coughed. His brilliant plan to appear like a mysterious stranger worked up until the woman looked left, spotted him, screamed, then tripped over a rock and nearly fell down his hill.

Lunging forward with a surge of chakra, Jiraiya held onto her wrist and pulled her back up. His other hand landed on her waist and angled her to a reasonable distance eye level with his chest. It was an accident honestly but Jiraiya was a man with fine tuned instincts.

"Careful there, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

Her blush was quite gratifying, the rock that sailed straight for his forehead was not. A twist of his neck, meant the stone hit his house rather than his skull. Setting his guest carefully back on her feet, Jiraiya turned to the two boys now running up the hill.

"Don't you know it's rude to attack strangers!" he yelled.

"Let Takako go!" The blonde demanded.

Turning to Takako, presumably, he smiled. "Well Miss Takako you've certainly got some loyal bodyguards."

Takako composed herself quickly, she bowed, "My apologies sir, we didn't mean to disturb you."

He waved away her apology, "Please, being visited by such a beautiful traveller is anything but disturbing. In fact, you're the first person I've spoken with in quite a long time."

"That doesn't surprise me." she said, "Where are my manners? My name is Tanaguchi Takako." She gestured at the two boys who'd finally climbed the hill, "This is Kuro and Ginta."

Jiraiya bowed, "Gamakan Jiraiya, at your service. Can I ask what brings you to my door?"

"Pure chance actually. We're going east and frankly we didn't expect to run into anyone. Though now that we're here, we were wondering if you'd be able to help us."

The teens watched him while Takako explained, they also glanced behind them back to the forest every few seconds.

"Depends on what you need," Jiraiya knocked on his cabin wall, "I'm not exactly the richest man in the afterlife." Takako laughed, oh a woman's laugh, he savoured the sound. "How about a trade? I'll help you if I can, and in exchange you answer some questions."

Takako mulled over his suggestion before nodding. "That sounds agreeable, though I don't know how many answers I can give, no one in our group is the most educated."

"We'll deal with it later. Let's get the rest of your group settled."

"How'd you know there were more of us?" Kuro (or maybe Ginta) asked.

"I'm observant."

Not a very satisfying answer, but Jiraiya didn't die just to get backsassed by some kid. Takako waived her tagalongs off and they took off back down the hill.

"We have some young children with us Gamaken-san, and we'd like a dry place for them to rest, our tents were damaged a few nights ago."

Jiraiya offered his arm, which got another laugh but together they followed the teenagers.

"Say no more my lady, let it never be said that the Sage Jiraiya turned away the innocent."

It was comforting for Jiraiya to slip into old mannerisms so easily. As much as it had been an exaggeration during his work. In many ways the kernel of a younger, innocent Jiraiya survived in his bombastic personality.

He clocked nearly 15 people, mostly teenagers and children with a few middle-aged parents making their way out. They had a single makeshift wagon that had seen better days, and their clothes were well worn.

"Can I borrow your two bodyguards Taka-chan? I've got some traps nearby that should provide a good enough meal."

"We couldn't ask that of you Gamakan-san."

"You're asking nothing, my Sensei would box my ears if he learned I was rude to a guests in need; and please, call me Jiraiya."

When the sun set, the lonely cabin rested above a handful of tents. Takako took one last look at the children sleeping soundly in a pile under their host's roof. Warm and dry for the first time in weeks. Her hands were sore from the afternoon's sewing but thanks to Jiraiya, they'd managed to repair their tents. Closing the door, she made her way to the crowded bonfire on the lake shore. The laughing and singing was a balm to her heart. They'd had too many stress filled nights.

There Jiraiya was, in the middle of people he should have considered total strangers, joking and telling stories. Takako could almost see the despair melt away from her people, their shoulders lightened with every smile and laugh. She walked up as Ginta was explaining to a confused Jiraiya that outside of water, souls didn't need any sustenance. Apparently Jiraiya was constantly hungry. Why that was, no one could say.

"Thank you again Jiraiya." She interjected. Scooting over, she took the empty space beside him. "I did agree to answer your questions, though I imagine everyone else has already started."

"Jiraiya here didn't even know he was in Rukongai, Takako!" Kuro said.

"Really? How is that possible?" She asked.

Jiraiya rubbed his nose, attempting to hide his blush.

"He woke up in the forest and never left, never even saw a town!" Kuro was obviously astounded. "And even weirder, he remembers being alive!"

"You really remember the Living World?"

"I assumed everyone did. In fact until you three came walking up I was pretty certain this was some kind of eternal solitude."

Takako took it in, she'd never heard of someone remembering anything more than their name or the face of a close family member.

"Pretty bad luck you woke up in District 69." Ginta added.

"Why is that?"

"The farther you get from the Seireitei, the worse it gets. They say that the centre of Soul Society is a white-walled city full of gold and silk. Out here you can barely find clothes." Takako explained.

"Where did you come from then?"

"District 71. Our village was destroyed. With nowhere to go we decided to take our chances and head west, try and settle down near District 40. There used to be more of us but…" She left her thought unfinished. The others had similarly gone quiet. Fresh grief was a difficult thing to ignore.

Takako's hand was enveloped in Jiraiya's much larger palm. He looked at her without pity.

"Taking a chance for a better life, or when your back's against a wall isn't a crime." Jiraiya glanced back up to his cabin. "When it's for those weaker than us, it becomes a worthy goal." Smiling, Jiraiya turned back to the group and got the teenagers talking.

Hours later, when the fire had burnt down and the guests were sleeping. Takako sat outside the cabin looking over the lake, admiring the moonlight. Jiraiya deliberately stepped on a twig to avoid startling her.

"Guess I'm not the only one with trouble sleeping." He commented.

"The opposite actually, I don't want to wake up and discover this is all a dream."

"Now Taka-chan, why would this be a dream?"

"Weeks of walking, scraping by on what we can find, when all of a sudden we happen upon a generous hermit who welcomes us with open arms!" She throws her hands up in exaggeration, then leans back against the cabin wall. "How could it be anything but a dream?"

Frowning, Jiraiya leaned closer. "What are you running from Takako? I assumed your village had been attacked by bandits, but you don't strike me as the kind of woman to run from thugs with weapons."

Takako stared back at him, "Hollows, Jiraiya, we were running from Hollows."

"What's a Hollow?"

Shaking her head Takako focused on the moon, "Never seen a Hollow," she whispered, "this is a dream."

Before dawn Jiraiya was told, in great detail, how the afterlife was anything but peaceful. He also learned that there was a good chance that the precious people he'd left behind would cross over in their own time and some had doubtlessly already entered Soul Society.

Under the moon, beside the first woman he'd spoken to in years, the Great Romantic, the Toad Sage Jiraiya, cried.

Snorting back his phlegm, Jiraiya started laughing. So loudly that Takako couldn't stop from joining. There was pure joy in Jiraiya's reaction. An innocent excitement at the prospect of seeing Naruto, Tsunade and Kakashi again. Though maybe Tsunade could come later, after she'd calmed down with a drink.

"Hey Taka-chan?"

"Yes, Raiya-chan?" She teased.

"Is there room in your heart to take pity on a lonely old hermit, and let him tag along?"

"I think we could be convinced."

/