This reunion thing? Frankly, Jiraiya could live without it.
He sees her now, and she looks just as she did that day thirty years ago when they parted ways. He'd like to say that she hasn't changed at all, but he knows that it'd be a lie. Thirty years is a long time.
They look at each other across a gap of decades, and see what might have been. And it kills them both to imagine what they might have had. It's too late now, though. Thirty years have passed, and in that time, they've both grown old, hardened with pain and hardship and grief.
He dreads visits to Konoha, because he knows that he'll have to face her, talk with her, drink and watch her get drunk. And it'll be so normal, so natural, because for decades, it's all they've ever done together, and for the rest of their lives, it's all they'll ever do together. He remembers a time when they would fight together, and their lives depended on each other. They looked after each other, then. Now- now she has a village to protect, and he has his novels to write.
If only that aching sense of regret would go away, Jiraiya would say that he wishes things had turned out differently, but he's not unhappy. If only.
In the life of a shinobi, thirty years is an eternity.