Chapter 1
The teahouse was always a cacophony of sound—drunken laughter, the clink of sake cups, the sharp reprimands of overworked servers. You moved through the chaos like a ghost, weaving between tables with practiced ease, dodging grasping hands and forced smiles. But despite the routine, the gilded cage of your life felt smaller every night. The walls were closing in, and you needed a way out.
Then, Jiraiya walked in, and for a moment, everything else blurred into nothingness.
He carried the weight of his legend effortlessly, his presence commanding even in a place as dismal as this. The great sage, the warrior, the rogue. But tonight, there was something different in the way he moved—weariness etched in his step, something heavy sitting on his broad shoulders. He chose his usual seat near the back, away from the raucous gamblers and weary merchants. Without a word, you approached, pouring sake into his cup.
"You always take care of me, huh?" Jiraiya mused, watching the liquid swirl in his cup before taking a slow sip.
"You're a good customer," you replied smoothly. "And good customers tip well."
He chuckled, but there was an edge to it. "That all I am to you?"
You scanned the room before slipping into the seat across from him. "You know better than that."
His gaze softened, but there was caution in his expression. "You're up to something."
You exhaled sharply, gripping the sake bottle tighter. "I need out, Jiraiya. I can't do this anymore. I have a plan."
He sighed, running a hand through his white hair. "It’s never that simple."
"It can be," you said, swallowing hard. "I want a child. Your child."
Silence dropped between you like a blade. Jiraiya stiffened, the sake cup pausing halfway to his lips. He set it down slowly, expression unreadable. "That's one hell of a plan."
"Your name is powerful. The moment people hear I carry your bloodline, I won’t be disposable anymore. And my child… they’ll have a future. A real one."
Jiraiya rubbed his temples, looking more exhausted than you’d ever seen him. "You think my name will shield you? Names don’t protect, they paint targets. You’d just be swapping one trap for another."
"Then let it be a better trap. One I can control." You leaned in, voice barely above a whisper. "I know you think about legacy. About what you’ll leave behind. What better way than this?"
His silence stretched long enough for doubt to creep in. Then, finally, he spoke. "And if I say no?"
You forced a smile, though your chest ached. "Then I find another way. But I’d rather it be you."
Jiraiya let out a bitter laugh. "You’re as dangerous as any kunoichi I’ve met."
You reached across the table, covering his hand with yours. "So? Will you help me?"
His fingers curled slightly beneath yours, but then he pulled away, rubbing his face as if trying to erase the weight of your words. "You don’t understand what you’re asking."
"I do."
He let out a slow breath, fingers tightening around his sake cup. "You think my name will protect you, but it won’t. It’ll just make people fear you more. And fear… fear makes them ruthless."
"I already live in fear, Jiraiya. But this way, at least I have something to fight for."
His expression wavered, the conflict in his eyes raw and unguarded. Jiraiya had always been a man at war with the world—and himself. He had seen too much, lost too much, lived too long in the shadow of war. And now, here you were, asking him to make a choice he couldn’t take back.
"A child shouldn't be a shield," he murmured. "Not a tool."
You leaned closer, voice softer now. "It wouldn’t be. It would be a life. A future. Something neither of us will ever have if we keep walking this road alone."
Jiraiya flinched, just slightly. He had spent his life chasing a dream, a hope that always slipped through his fingers like sand. He had lost friends, love, the chance to belong anywhere. And now, for the first time, someone was offering him something tangible—legacy, permanence, something real.
He downed his sake in one smooth motion, setting the cup down with a decisive clink. "You’re playing a dangerous game. If I do this, you’d better be ready for the consequences."
"I already am."
Jiraiya sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Damn it. You’re as stubborn as anyone I’ve ever met."
A small smile ghosted across your lips. "Takes one to know one."
His gaze darkened, troubled. "Refine this plan more. Because if you don’t, there’s no way in hell I’m doing this for you. I don’t give children to women looking for an escape route out of a brothel."
You leaned back, studying him carefully, searching for the hesitation hidden beneath his words. His expression was guarded, his eyes carrying the weight of something unspoken. Jiraiya didn’t fear battle, but he feared what came after—the things that lingered, the ties that bound.
For a long moment, he didn’t speak. The noise of the teahouse faded into a dull hum, the world narrowing to just the two of you.
Finally, he sighed. "What you’re asking… it’s not just a child. It’s everything that comes with it. It’s choices that can’t be undone. A life that will be tied to you—for better or worse. You’re not just asking for my name. You’re asking for all of me."
"Trust me," you pleaded. "I don’t know how, but one day, you’ll see—this isn’t just for me."
Jiraiya’s gaze flickered toward the teahouse boss, his jaw tightening. If he wanted, he could bring this place down in an instant. He could tear apart the very foundation of the life you wanted to escape. But that would put you in danger. And he cared too much for that.
His fingers drummed against the table, his breath a quiet exhale.
"Goddamn it."
He leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling as though searching for answers in the rafters. The weight of his past pressed heavy on him—memories of battles fought, comrades lost, and dreams shattered. And now, a new possibility stood before him. A choice that could change everything.
"If we do this," he said slowly, "it has to be on my terms. I won’t let you use my name without understanding what it means."
"Then tell me," you urged. "Show me."
Jiraiya studied you for a long time before shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. "You really are something else."
You held your breath as he reached for the sake bottle, pouring himself another drink. Then, with an exasperated sigh, he finally spoke.
"Alright. Let’s talk about what comes next."
After a few minutes of discussion, it went silent.
Then let’s get one thing straight.” His tone was firm, resolute. “You don’t just get my child and name. You get me. And that is a responsibility you can’t run from.”
You nodded, the words sealing something between you. Something unshakable.
Jiraiya leaned back, rubbing his temple with a tired grin. “Gods, I must be out of my damn mind.”
You reached across the table, resting a hand over his. This time, he didn’t pull away.
“Maybe,” you said. “Or maybe, for once, you’re making the right choice.”
For the first time that night, he didn’t argue.
Outside, the lanterns burned low, flickering against the midnight wind. The world hadn’t changed yet—but it would.