I blinked.

The saline gasp beat against my face and the sun-dappled aquamarine ran past and through me, drenching the hem of my skirt and the dry heart I held. Something spoke to me of how everything is a dream. A dream I've always known, yet never realized. A dream forever suppressed within the cold and cruel fingers of my cage. A dream we both shared.

I remembered this place I've never been to. It was a Utopia I made up, a Utopia we made up. A mislaid memoir, this must be, but now that I've found it, I still remain to never know where it truly belongs.

Under my soles breathed the submerged pebbles and grains, strands and gold never to be eyed. The heavy rush of my feet argued with the sea. Yet the magic of the fire set before me continued to call. I knew that voice. I knew that song. I couldn't have been mistaken, I hoped.

"Hey, Tsunade." The first words I heard from the tepid gut. On the minute grains, you sat comfortably, an angel lying on a cloud. The snow of your locks never did match your contagious grin, only now did it dawn. The quirk of your eyes seemed to speak to mine. Through the grasping tresses, I could only prick a curve up my jaw. "Beautiful like always, aren't you?"

Though you say those words all your days and mean them every time, only now did I appreciate what I never had. "Thank you." I mouthed. It was all the numbness in my cheeks allowed. Nothing else could wither out. There was never anything else to expect, after all.

Vaguely, you motioned for me to take my place beside you, yet I obediently do, eager in a way I don't comprehend. Elegantly, the criss of your palm rushed down my arm, reaching for my own hand in what I thought was more. The sweat of your palm pierced a chill through my skin, but I found it a sting I had learned to enjoy in second's time.

Gentle as silence, your hand directs mine. On the sand, our fingers wrote. Tsunade, the sand said, I am yours. Jiraiya, it shrieked. Slashes through the void in me lined with nothing more than wretchedness bore within. The sand could never speak any truer.

"I write my promise in sand," you whisper, "So that may the earth remember my pact and shall it take me at its breaking."

I found fault. "It's useless," I argued, sliding my hand from your firm hold, "The tide will take it. It'll be erased. Is that the promise you make for me? A promise that will not last long?" Fire raged in my eyes. Warm blood sizzled in my nape. It was unacceptable.

Still, you lingered. "It is not useless." You calmly said, assuring me, "The tide may take it. It will be erased, indeed. But the promise I made, and not the words we wrote," You stop to point at my heart. "will be written in our hearts, throughout our lives, past the end of eternity."

Till I woke up, I have always been in love with you.

Jiraiya, never wake me up.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Tsunade left her office, briskly escaping the aghast moments it holds.

She nearly collapses onto a nearby wall, grabbing an invisible and intangible grasp for support. She presses her forehead onto the concrete beside her, absorbing and consuming the pain that was held beyond.

Cowering behind golden mane, her eyes compare to the rain.

"Stupid Jiraiya…" she croaks, releasing the anguish through a pain less than it should be, "Stupid Jiraiya… for dying on me like that…"

Tsunade had woken up into reality. Yet the words—no— the promise remains as it is.