It was funny how the rain always reflected agony.
It was like the sky was crying, just as a former student of his had once said. The Heavens were weeping, the droplets washing over the ground with sorrow. The streets were barren, no one particularly sought to get soaked by the rain; not that the people of Konoha had much interest in performing any activities. Not today.
Rain and tears seem to go hand in hand. At least in these situations.
He never thought it'd come to this, where he was the one left to mourn. No, that was her fate. Now it seemed her fate had become his.
She had lost many people in her life, so many that it completely broke her, shattered her being and the pieces left were so small that they were almost unsalvageable. Almost. It had taken almost thirty years and a cocky, hyperactive brat to bring her back, but she had eventually returned to her former self. And now…
Jiraiya sat at the desk she had spent years in front of, staring out of a window that was always used by him to enter the office. He had been aiming for a way to be more memorable, to perhaps have her glance at the opening and think of him; what a better way to do just that than to irritate her by entering through a window? Angering her had always been his forte, it wasn't only something he loved to do because he thought there was a subtle beauty in her anger, but because it was one of the only ways he could get her attention without getting overly sentimental. Was it unnecessary sometimes? Sure, but it wasn't like either of them minded. Overbearing grins, anger, fists, this was how they communicated.
…But maybe he did overdo it sometimes…
He took a swig of the sake he had found in her not-so-secret stash. A few bottles were left, probably indicating that it had been recently restocked. Kami knows she'd never leave her precious sake untouched. Savouring the pleasant burn the alcohol provided, he closed his eyes and immediately his mind swirled into past memories.
Their time as genin. Oh, how annoying and foolish he had been, always picking on her. Heh, flat-chest…
During the war. Their team, fighting side by side and getting dubbed Legends.
Every time Jiraiya would hit on her and get blatantly rejected. Perhaps he had gone about it wrong…
Drinking until they couldn't think straight. She could never hold her alcohol well.
Comforting her after the loss of her brother and lover. He still curses Orochimaru and Dan for allowing her heart to break.
The night she left Konoha. He would never forget their last meeting or the look on her face.
The first time he saw her after thirty years. Was it possible for her to have grown even more beautiful? Tch, that old hag…
Watching her take the role of Hokage. His chest swelling with pride as she, with that confident smile of hers, took her rightful place as the leader of the village.
Taking on an apprentice to once again complete the Sannin, this time as teachers. The young girl that had reminded him so much of Tsunade in her youth. I know you saw it too, Hime.
Each thought and memory that came into mind, each picture of her smile that flashed before his eyes stung him. It burnt him like he had accidently stuck his hand into the fire while impatiently reaching in to grab a cooking fish. For each memory that caused his heart to ache, he took a sip of their favourite drink. Perhaps the alcohol would wash away his troubles, would stop him from remembering even just for tonight; he knew it helped her for so many years.
However, he could not seem to block the thoughts that fought their way into his mind. Out of all his failures, the failure to save her overpowered the rest. It felt like a kunai was lodged in his heart and someone twisted it
Gulp after gulp. It never seemed to be enough. The sake wasn't doing its job – he could still feel way too much. He finished the bottle and reached for another. He held it unopened, eyes blurring with unwanted tears as he stared at it. With a shaky breath, he put it down but never loosened his grip. This was the last one. The last of her sake.
Through his watery pupils, he swore he saw a fair, slender hand gripping the neck of the bottle. A gasp escaped him and his head shot up. Her face, grinning playfully at him, like the smile she used to give him to coax the last serving of alcohol from him. That face was all he could see. He blinked a few times, disbelieving that it was actually her, and the tears he had been fighting back overflowed and trailed down his cheeks. It was all an illusion.
He swore in that moment that he would never open that last bottle.
Jiraiya placed his head against the desk and allowed himself to weep with the rain. Just this once, he would allow himself to grieve over his teammate, his friend, his love and his Hokage. It was funny how the one person who he pushed away the most with his perverted comments and arguing ended up to be the person he cherished the most, the one who hurt him the most with her passing.
It seems like history had repeat itself. He was once again the last one left.
"Tsunade…"