Jiraiya

It had been years since he had last set foot in the capital of Mizu no Kuni. Even longer since he had been in it's red light district. Maybe five years? A bit less? Maa, who cared? Ruffling his white mane, the legendary Sannin made his way through the pleasure quarters, humming quite happily to himself as he eyed the women on show in the teahouses casually.

Ah, the courtesan he was visiting had only achieved the rank of oiran a while after he'd been her client. Which was lucky for him since oiran were terribly expensive women to entertain oneself with, however much their refined and educated minds pleased him. Only men frightened by women wanted them stupid, was his opinion. The fact that Tsunade-hime had frightened him more times in his life than he could count wasn't acknowledged at all. Tsunade-hime was one of a kind, a kunoichi – no, shinobi with no equal. Not in his mind anyway, now if only the hime would look upon him a bit more fondly…

So caught up in his musings about how great a couple him and Senju heiress would make, Jiraiya almost passed by the Tomitaya, the brothel the famous oiran Karauta-chan belonged to. Karauta-chan had been a onetime thing, but she had been worth every ryo he paid that night. Truly a queen among her peers, a few generations back, that woman could easily have been a tayuu instead. Why she had yet to have been snatched up as a bride for a smaller samurai clan or the son of wealthy merchant was a mystery...Actually now that she had been promoted, Karauta might even be lucky enough to snag a place as a nobleman's younger son's wife. Or a daimyou's concubine.

Her eyes were like amethysts; her hair was black as the night, her skin the purest white and her cupid bow lips painted crimson like the blood those of his profession spilled so easily. The slope of her back was the most graceful arch he'd ever seen, not to mention that behind of hers. Damn. Karauta was an etheral being and he had not even started on her brilliant mind. He wasn't ashamed to say that she had been a muse in more than one of his Icha Icha books.

What she would have been like as a kunoichi? The world would not have known what hit it and neither did the fellow whom she had killed according to the rumours. Word on the street was that her rooms had looked as though massacre had taken place. Althought the weapon had not been found but it had been determined to be something long and sharp. A senbon, perhaps?

No. Probably not. Senbon were the tools of shinobi, not something easily acquired by a working girl – no matter her rank or fame. What could it have been then? Another question that he could not seem to find an answer to, was why she had requested for him to pay a visit. Going as far as contacting Hiruzen-sensei all the way in Konohagakure, simply to get ahold of him? Now that was weird. Maybe, she was in need of his expertise…Ohohoho

The Sannin pondered on this as he was led through the brothel by the Obaba-san in her luxurious black kimono, up the stairs and past the rooms occupied by other clients until she kneeled down and opened tthe slide screen door. Stepping into the antechamber with a short nod to the elder woman, Jiraiya ignored the beautifully dressed courtesan arranged in the bigger room attached to the one he was in. No, he looked around first – taking note of the new furniture and the scent of cleaning materials. There was not a trace scent of blood left after what had supposedly been a bloody affair.

Turning his eyes to Karauta, he silently took his time drink her in. As oiran are wont to do, she wore a fortune's worth of lavishly adorned fabrics. The inner layers of her kimono were respectively : white, an intense shade of red, turquoise embroidered with ornate silvery blossoms, and finally on top of those was a gloriously dark blue uchikake even more ornate than the turquoise one, embriodered with peonies, fans and scrolls. The obi tied at her front was a more subdued shade of pink on top of smaller yellow obi. She really was vision.

Even her hair was more ornate and eye-catching than any other oiran he'd seen. Bright coloured ribbons tied in beautiful knots. A whole jewelry box of expensive kanzashi was in her hair, the customary six yellow ones and smaller ones in silver, bands of pearls and more silver hanging from them, chiming softly with every breath.

"Danna-sama?" Karauta called, much too experienced to let her confusion show on her face, but it was pretty obvious that she was wondering why in the world he was standing there, staring like a fool.

Shaking his head, Jiraiya moved forward and dropped onto the cushion in front of her carelessly, writing off his weird behavior with a chuckle. "Excuse me, Karauta-chan. Your beauty stunned me and as a connoisseur of women, I simply had to stop and truly enjoy the view." The courtesan puffed on her long pipe and huffed with amusement. "Danna-sama musn't tease me." She hummed pleasantly, putting out the pipe and emptying it into a cup.

"It has been a long time since you came to visit me." The woman pouted gently, turning her face away from him and looking sullen, making the shinobi rub the back of his head apologetically. "Ah, sorry 'bout that, Karauta-chan. I'm a busy man, y'know. Always on the move. You know I would have never left you if it was up to me." Jiraiya apologized awkwardly, attempting to flatter the beautiful courtesan. Women liked flattery...normal ones did, anyway. Not that she was in anyway normal.

Karauta turned her face toward his again, tilting it seductively and watching him through the corner of her eye as she had been taught to do as a child. "Really?" She teased, a small and satisfied smile spreading on her crimson lips.

Nodding, Jiraiya grinned – feeling victorious for some reason. Ah, if only Tsunade-hime was this easy to please, then she would have been his by now. On the other hand, maybe he would have been hers. Which was much more likely – after all, she was the one with the superior social status. Oh well. Deciding to end their polite, verbal game he asked bluntly:" I heard you had an altercation with a client."

Karauta's face paled slightly, but enough that he could see it under her powder. Ah, it was perhaps a bit insensitive to word it like that. Opening his mouth in an attempt to smooth over his clumsy words, the courtesan waved her small, delicate hand in a dismissive gesture. "Indeed, it was a close call. I feared for my life." Karauta admitted quietly, touching the bruises on her neck that had already healed.

"..How did you fight him off?" Jiraiya asked curiously, looked her up and down as if examining whether or not such a delicate, weak-looking thing could have truly killed a man. Of course, he knew better. Size was not a reliable indication of strength or lethality. A genin could kill a jounin if said jounin made a single mistake, and looks were nothing if not deceiving. There was, after all, a reason why kunoichi were such efficient assassins. Underestimating women had killed more than a few foolish men. Jiraiya was many things, but not foolish.

The brilliantly robed courtesan was quiet for a little while, seemingly contemplating something until she finally seemed to reach a decision. The woman leaned towards him, in a way any other amorous prostitute would have done and whispered, "It was not I who fought him off."

Jiraiya's eyebrows raised at the secretive behavior. "Is that so? Who did, then?" He inquired and followed her glance toward a dark, finely painted folding screen in the corner. Behind it was a tiny chakra signature, that of a kamuro he assumed.

"Come, Chikage-chan." Karauta ordered gently, much more gently than other oiran usually addressed their attendants. A few seconds passed and a tiny form emerged from behind the folding screen.

It was a little girl, no more than four or five years of age and as pale as her 'elder sister'. A bit on the young side for a kamuro, Jiraiya thought as he watched the girl. Dressed in a light green and white kimono, fastened by a yellow obi. He was just about to greet the girl when the colour of her hair stooped him short. It was as white as snow, just like his own. Underneath her eyes were small red markings, just like his own. For a moment there was entirely quiet in his head. No thoughts, nothing. And then there was not. No, no, nononono. Turning back to Karauta, he demanded an explanation. "She isn't?" he asked in a choked-up voice, letting the word mine linger in the air between them.

Chikage had arranged herself at her mother's side like a good kamuro would, and Karauta pet the top of the little girl's hair affectionately. The life-and-death encounter had brought them closer, her little musume now not only allowed physical contact, but actively sought it out. Curling into a ball, the little girl rested her head upon her mother's lap, having not said a word but was obviously listening to their conversation.

The courtesan ignored the question, thinking the answer obvious. Who else had his colouring? "I had not intended to bother you, which is why I never wrote to alert you of her birth." The mother apologized, petting the snow-white hair of her little girl. "I have kept her a secret her entire life and I would have continued to hide her in my rooms until she was old enough to become kamuro and then when her contract ended, I would have ordered a genin team to escort her to Konohagakure." Karauta sighed heavily. "She would have been free and I would have had her close. That is no longer an option. "

Jiraiya simply stared at the child, dumb-founded. He was a father. He who had so careful had slipped up and gotten a prostitute pregnant?! Taking a deep breath, the shinobi poured himself some sake and downed it all in one go before pouring some more. "Why not?" He asked with a frown on his face.

Coaching the little girl into a seated position, Karauta gently urged her. "Chikage-chan, tell Jiraiya-sama what happened that night."

The child looked at the man as if she wasn't entirely sure what to do with him or how to react. She had been so surprised when she saw who exactly her mother's client was. A Legendary Sannin! Jiraiya the Toad Sage! From the anime, she had watched in her former life! Chikage had then proceeded to have a minor panic-attack and existential crisis behind the folding screen, holding her breath to keep from hyperventilating and halfway shoving the entirety of her fist into her mouth to keep herself quiet.

The tiny girl glanced from Jiraiya at her mother's face before mumbling quietly, her voice scratchy and unused:" The man was hurting Mother. Mother was making strange sounds, wrong sounds." Meeting the Sannin's gaze, she hesitated for a moment. "Boar-man had his hands on Mother's neck, he was gon' make her dead and she's my mom!" Chikage exclaimed fervently, her bottomlip trembling and her eyes flashing with a fury unfitting in the eyes of a child. "Boar-man?" Karauta echoed her daughter's nickname for a would-be murderer and the kid shrugged. "He looked like a pig…or what I think a pig would look like and made noises that sounded like a piggy's..only…" The adults waited for the child, seemingly searching for a fitting word. "Feral." She pronounced, nodding her little head in agreement with herself. That was good word. "His piggy noises were feral."

"Then what did you do?" Jiraiya asked, the corners of his lips twitching at the child's words. It had been awhile since he'd been near an actual kid, not a child soldier. "I jumped on 'im and I hit 'im. I hit him and I hit him and I hit him." Chikage babbled to him, looking down like she was ashamed of her behavior, crinkling her nose in distaste when she admitted:" I bit him too. "Sticking her tongue out in a grimace of disgust, the kid shivered at the memory of the coppery liquid in her mouth. "He threw me against the wall. That hurta' lot. Then he hit me and I cried. He had super big hands, like oni hands and I was scared he was gonna kill me."

The girl made a tiny whimper, her eyes watering and she leaned into her mother's side for comfort. Jiraiya had to force himself to keep calm as he heard how this scum of a man had treated a child. "..Then he ripped my pink kimono 'cuz he was gon' make me a yujó too. Even though I'm not old enough." Biting her bottom lip, the child mumbled:" I don't think he cared, maybe he was like those men."

Karauta looked anguished at the retelling of that horrible night, but she could not help inquiring. "What men?" Jiraiya said nothing but the cup in his hand cracked in his hold and the sharp etches drew blood.

Chikage looked like she regretted what she had said. "Those men Hatsune-nee talked about. Those who look at the kamuro like men look at Mother. The men that like children." The child whispered, raising her shoulders up to her ears and screwing shut her eyes. "Don't punish Hatsune-nee!" She pleaded, dropping into a bow.

Jiraiya had to keep himself from sneering as he dried the blood off his fingers with an embroidered kerchief that Karauta-chan had been kind enough to hand him. The shinobi profession and world may be ugly and harsh. Monsters may be masquerading as humans and the other way around but no one approved of child molesters. Those were the worst of the worst and no one worth their hitaite would require payment to introduce men like that to the sharp end of a kunai.

"I won't, I won't. Mother promises." Karauta soothed sounding serene as ever, even though her lips were pressed thinly together and the look in her eyes as murderous. "Please continue, musume."

"..I was just so afraid I was gon' die. I was, I was….." The child's voice faltered and she frowned as she searched for a fitting word, reaching up to touch the silver kanzashi in childish hairstyle. When Chikage seemingly found the word, she went on: "- desperate, yeah, I was desperate and something was warm in my tummy and I dunno what happened but I took Mother's kanzashi and poked boar-man in the throat with the sharp end. Then he made gurgly noises and stopped." She drew a shaky breath and looked the man whom she had thought fictional in the eye. "Because I made him dead."

Tears started falling and the child whimpered yet again, burying her face into her mother's robes. Fisting her tiny hands. "I'm not sorry! I'm not! I'm not! He was bad! "She cried, stubbornly telling the two adults that he'd deserved it, but sounding more like she was trying to convince herself.

Jiraiya hesitated for a moment, feeling truly sorry for the kid who had already had her first kill and none of the training or preparation a child from a chinobi household would. Then he sighed and reached over the low table to pat the girl's familiarly colored hair. "You did well, kid. The bastard did deserve it and it is okay if you feel bad. It's only right that you feel bad." He praised in a low tone, marveling at how soft the girl's hair was in comparison to his which was coarse like horsehair.

Karauta seemed horrified and a bit lost for words. Unsure of how to comfort her child since she had never taken another's life, she held her tongue and simply smoothed down the elaborate fabric of her kimono as her little girl told the heart-wrenching tale.

When Chikage finally managed to cry herself to sleep on her mother's lap, the courtesan heaved a truly exhausted sigh. "I do not know what to do with her any longer and I assume that the 'warmth' she spoke of was chakra. "

That had been Jiraiya's interpretation as well and he rubbed his calloused hand over his face in agitation. The prospect of becoming a father was not one he had ever really wanted. Not with anyone but Tsunade-hime, at least. Certainly not now while the war with Iwa had yet to end. He and his team were needed on the battlefield – more specifically the frontlines – and he did not have the time to foster or raise a child. Even if she was darned cute.

Yet, the child was without a doubt his. He could not leave her here, that much was true. Unlocked chakra at this age was a rarity and in some cases, dangerous. The children do not know what they are playing around with within or outside their bodies, some have no idea what it is and others used too much and died from chakra exhaustion because as children their reserves are very limited. He also felt sorry for the child that had never stepped foot outside her mother's apartments. Never felt the sun on her face nor the rain. Never had friends beside her mother's kamuro and now her childhood had been robbed from her. Stolen from her grasp, right in front of her nose because someone decided to hurt her mother and the child had enough of a backbone or was reckless enough to risk her own life to save her.

Nodding slowly, the shinobi agreed. "I will take her to Konohagakure." He sighed, sounding just as exhausted as Karauta had just moments before. Glancing at her sharply at the courtesan's relieved look, he added. "I can't promise to always be there. There is a war going on and no one is excepted from duty."

Looking at Chikage's sleeping face fondly, her relief bittersweet as she knew that while her child would be well-taken care of and no longer a secret, she would probably never get to hug her daughter's tiny form against her chest again. "That is fine. I expected a blank refusal. As long as you make sure she is cared for."

Rising unto his feet as the time he had paid for was starting to run out, Jiraiya headed toward the door, intending to give mother and child time to say goodbye. "I´ll return in five hours, and take her with me, then." The Sannin promised before he slid open the slide screen door and left the Tomitaya, feeling more than just a little overwhelmed. If Mizu no Kuni had a few less trees and one very tired prostitute after receiving a most determined, white-haired client – well, then it could have been worse.