Sorry for the lateness, but I was very busy with the holidays. I'm giving you readers a chapter that's nearly 10k to make up for it, though.
This fic is more than 100 pages long in my Word document. It's also gotten 200 favs, 270 follows, nearly 100 reviews, 13k plus views, and is a part of 6 communities. Thank you all for your support.
This chapter is essentially over the wacky holiday hijinks in the first year of Shiroi traveling with Jiraiya (which starts in the Spring after the Kyuubi attack).
Reply to Fellow: Shiroi comes in at a very confusing time, in a rather dodgy/fishy manner. First, she's not even sure if Jiraiya's mentioned her at all to Minato at all. Second, she can't really prove anything to Minato, even if he does know of her (Jiraiya didn't exactly leave anything he's known for, with her). Third, the others are wary of her being an enemy or spy, and it takes them a while to take what she says at face value.
TLDR— Shiroi suddenly saying "Oh hey I know Jiraiya" is going to be a bit suspicious.
Reply to Guest on Chapter 7: Shiroi hasn't asked for something in this first meeting, and just gives Mei (and the Resistance) a large cache of supplies, before leaving Water Country altogether. Mei's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. They're going to have a correspondence, though— so any requests Shiroi may have for information and other things, will be through messages.
And don't worry! It's fine to ask questions. But this plot point won't come up until I later address it.
Jiraiya: Holidays
He's decided that they should stay in Grass for a few months for Shiroi's training, before he starts to take her around the Elemental Nations for rounds around his spy network.
It's not a hard decision. The girl needs to find a rhythm, and needs to learn certain skills in a safe, stable environment.
Besides, Grass is her homeland. She'll probably make her base in the future here, because of that connection. And if she already knows how to handle the place naturally enough, then he could use that as a base for her further studies.
She nettles him enough to convince them to visit Hōzuki Castle. It's an…enlightening experience. A bit of time passes after that.
One day, Jiraiya steps into their hotel room, and is met by the oddest sight.
The room holds colorful decorations— spring green, and yellow, and white. Jiraiya's first thought is to wonder if he's somehow stumbled into the wrong room, but it unlocked with his key, so that's out.
The next, he thinks, "Oh shit. Did I forget her birthday?"
It's a more viable guess. After all, the date is nearing.
But isn't it in July…? It's still April. Unless he misheard her, when she told him. But he memorized the date clearly—even wrote it down somewhere—and he's pretty sure he's not wrong.
So…What the hell is all this? Some type of early Golden Week party?
"What the hell is all this?" he asks aloud, bemused.
Shiroi takes that time to gracefully enter through the room's window. She frowns at him. "Damn, you're back early."
The man simply stares at her. His protégé has a large, stuffed white rabbit under one arm, a colorful woven basket in hand. It's full of…painted eggs?
"I can't even give you a nice surprise, since you have such a sporadic sense of timing. Stupid old man," the girl huffs, rolling her eyes. But a smile slowly works her way up her mouth, as she makes her way to the room's table, setting down the eggs and stuffed animal.
"Sit. Have a slice of cake, and some chocolate," she says, flippantly waving at said cake—a small square that has a carefully iced rabbit. The rabbit is split down the middle, one side white, the other light pink, with a bow in its hair. The chocolates look hand-made, shaped like rabbits and eggs, with colorful sprinkles and tiny colored chocolate piping to give them details.
"Your birthday's in July, right…?" Jiraiya still asks, as he slowly sits down, eying the sweets dubiously.
The girl gives a startled laugh. "July the second. But that's not why I'm doing all this, and I know your birthday is November the eleventh."
"Right…" he trails off, still looking around at all the outrageously colorful things in the room. "Still wondering what this is all about."
The girl slowly cuts the cake, serving a large slice for him, putting a few pieces of chocolate on the side, and passing him the disposable plate. She cuts herself a piece, and then plops down on the chair opposite him, large stuffed rabbit perched on her lap, as if its some sort of kid she's babysitting.
The girl unceremoniously shoves a bite of cake in her mouth, taking a few seconds to chew slowly, before nodding in approval. She sets the plate down, and shrugs. "It's Easter."
Jiraiya blinks. Squints his eyes at her. "It's…what?"
"Ii-tsu-tah," Shiroi repeats slowly, as if to a particularly slow child.
He shakes his head at her, huffing. "I don't know what the hell that is, brat."
She gives a flippant shrug. "A holiday. We used to celebrate it, back home." There's a faraway look in her eye, however, when she admits this.
Jiraiya stiffens, feeling awkward and hoping that he hasn't upset the girl. She usually has an indifferent, uncaring mask, but she's as soft as a marshmallow under that hard exterior. Talking about her home—or anything that accidentally references it—ends up getting him a subdued, somber girl. It makes him feel guilty and uncomfortable, whenever he ends up triggering those moods from her.
He decides to take a chance, though, and plunge right in. Because he's not sure what this holiday is even supposed to be about. Rabbits? The Rabbit Goddess?
If she's willing to talk about it, he's willing to ask and listen.
"What's with all the rabbits?" Jiraiya asks, voice casual, as he gestures with his hands to the general room with its decorations and food.
A small smile quirks on her lips. "It's part of the holiday. Easter represents the coming of spring, and of rebirth. Thus, the green, white, and lively patterns. The Easter Bunny—" and here, she fondly pats the stuffed rabbit that's nestled on her lap—"Is said to deliver chocolates and colorfully painted eggs to children, in woven baskets. Sometimes, he hands the treats directly; other times, he hides them, and children must go on an Easter Egg Hunt to retrieve them."
Huh. So it's like Setsubun, eh?
Jiraiya leans back on his chair, chewing idly on his cake. It's a nice cake, actually. "Did you make all…this?" he wonders, gesturing with his plastic fork to the room at large.
"I had to gather all the supplies first, and plan. But, yes. I did," she nods, a smug smile and happy glimmer in her eyes.
"And the cake?"
"I baked it and iced it. Made the chocolates by hand as well. The eggs were tricky, but I managed to dye them," she said, ticking each thing off her fingers.
"It's…impressive," he ends up admitting, looking around at all the colorful, carefully handcrafted things. It really shows that Shiroi put a lot of love and care into recreating this small, obscure holiday of her home.
The red-eyed girl positively beams at him. The wide smile, bright eyes, and stuffed animal in her lap almost makes her seem like a child.
The girl had all that ripped away from her—became an adult much too quickly—so it's…nice to see this from her. To have her have something to celebrate, to have her act like a kid she was.
"I'm going to go out later, to hand children some of the eggs and chocolates," she says, voice betraying her joy and excitement at the prospect.
"And the rabbit?" he asks, amused. "You going to leave him here with me, to guard the fort?" he adds, teasingly.
Shiroi quirks an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly in confusion. "Uh…No? He's the Easter Bunny. The hell's the point, if he's not there to help me give out the chocolates?"
"Right, right," he nods sagely. "Of course. He's a very important part of the holiday."
The teen narrows her eyes suspiciously at him. "I feel like you're patronizing me. Tch. If that's how it is, I'll just give away your chocolates, too."
His eyes widened, and he spluttered, winding his arms protectively over his plate. "But, but—But they're mine!" he exclaims, in a near whine. "And you worked so hard on them, too! I still need to enjoy 'em!"
The girl stares at him, before she shakes her head, huffing out a laugh. "Alright, alright. I made them for your benefit, so I suppose I'll let you have some."
She stands, stuffed rabbit under her arm, grabbing the box of chocolates and hand basket full of dyed, hardboiled eggs. "See you later. And don't finish all the cake by yourself. You'll get fat."
She gives him a cheeky grin, before she proceeds to jump out the hotel window. Jiraiya can't help but give a booming laugh, shaking his head fondly.
Shiroi's sixteenth birthday had passed without much fanfare. As a gag gift, Jiraiya first gave her a black, lacy lingerie set—which she chucked at his face in anger and embarrassment.
But when he presented her with his real gift—a small cake and some jutsu scrolls—she pounced him in a tight hug, babbling excitedly (well, babbling excitedly in a very Shiroi way, at least). It made Jiraiya rather awkward and red-faced. He only gave her a few pats on the back, and tried to do the manly thing by saying it was nothing.
Of course, the girl merely gave a small, knowing chuckle. And then she got all quiet and sentimental on him.
Overall, it was a good affair, even if it was small, with only the two of them. Shiroi seemed to not mind this at all. The girl had even gotten some letters of well wishes from her little adopted family in Hōzuki Castle, along with some cute crayon drawings from the ninja brats in training.
Tanabata came and went. Apparently, his protégé wasn't much for celebrating, but he bought her a kimono and took her out to the festival anyways. He goaded her with the reasoning that it would help her in how to act in festivals and wearing restrictive clothing.
She grudgingly agreed, and ended up laughing at his expense at multiple times of the day. Mostly when many stall owners kept mistaking him for her father, and she just played along with that.
She looked like an actual woman in her kimono—a very rare sight indeed. And she wasn't trying to do a hundred things at once, or train every minute of the festival. So, he considered it a success.
October hit, and Jiraiya started to notice Shiroi starting to buy and hoard odd things, black and orange with fall themes. He thought nothing of it, ignoring the entire month as much as humanly possible. It was the one-year anniversary of Minato and Kushina's death, and his godson would turn one—and, honestly, it was all simply too painful to think about.
October thirty-first came around, and when Shiroi insisted that they have lunch at their hotel room, he stared at her like she was crazy. She spent most of the month coaxing him out of the hotel room, and dragging him away from drowning his sorrows in the local bars. It just seemed a complete change of faith to want him to eat inside the small room.
He warily stepped inside shabby hotel room number thirty three, and stared in bewilderment.
The room was covered in decorations, black and orange. There were fall leaves, warring against fake spider webs and spiders, along many surfaces. A plastic skull laid in the middle of the table as a centerpiece, patterns with bright colors of all types painted on the surface. There was a pumpkin that was carved with some type of jagged smiling face, a candle lit inside it, making it glow softly.
The smell of pumpkin and sweetness was overwhelming. There was a pumpkin pie, alongside iced cupcakes and a plethora of chocolate and candies.
It was one entirely confusing, hot mess.
Hands against his back pushed him inside the room proper, guiding him. "Sit down at the table," Shiroi commanded, before she began to cut up the pie and plate it, arranging the different sweets on the table.
"Uh…" Jiraiya murmured, looking blankly at everything around him. The entire room is such a mishmash—black for grief and darkness, mixed with the bright oranges of fall and harvest and the Kyuubi fox. Spiders and fake leaves. A skull painted like a happy festival mask.
He's not sure if this is something Shiroi genuinely celebrated, or just some weird-ass thing she cooked up in order to make him feel better. He wouldn't be surprised if it was either option.
"What's all this?" he asks, voice distant.
"Halloween," the girl shrugs. "Also known as Hallows Eve."
The man idly picks at his pie. Takes up a bit with his fork, and puts in his mouth. Gives a hum that's surprised and pleased with how it tastes.
Shiroi probably made it. The girl was surprisingly good at cooking, despite some of her bizarre recipes that seemed more fit for aliens to eat than actual people. After a while, he stopped questioning her combinations and tastes; most of the food was delicious, if not edible.
Like the 'pizza' she makes. That was one of her better inventions, he'll readily admit.
"What's it about?" he asks, feeling curious. "All I see is that the decorations are bipolar."
This gets a cackle—a literal cackle—from the teen.
"It has two distinctly different meanings," she admits, smirk in place. "One is for the fall harvest—represented with the leaves, pumpkins, and color orange. The second meaning is of death and monsters, the spooky things in the night, acknowledging that death isn't the last of a human's journey."
"Represented by all the black and fake spiders?" he hazards a guess. Like Shubun No Hi and Obon, but a more…cheery version.
"Yes, amongst other things. One tradition is to carve pumpkins to use them as lanterns, then use the guts of the pumpkin to eat," she says, gesturing to the glowing pumpkin. "They're called jack-o-lanterns."
"Right," he drawls, feeling like he's not sure if she's being serious, or if this is all some elaborate prank.
Then again, the last time something this pointedly bizarre happened was Easter…
"Another tradition is for people to wear masks or costumes. Many are of fantastical things. Some are of monsters or evil creatures," Shiroi goes on, idly plopping a chocolate in her mouth. "And then when we're all dressed up, we go door-to-door, saying 'trick-or-treat!', bags in hand. Neighbors give the guests candy and other treats, before sending them on their way."
Jiraiya just can't imagine Shiroi wearing a costume or mask of any sort, willingly. Much less knocking on someone's door to ask for chocolate. But from the happy glimmer in her eye, and the fondness of her voice, she apparently did this when she was younger.
It only helps to remind him of how quickly she's had to grow up, because of the Third Shinobi War.
The Sannin is forced from his rather dark musings, when Shiroi leans over to plop a silly paper hat on his head.
The man picks up the folded paper hat, blinking down at the tall cone, before looking over at his companion questioningly.
The girl crosses her arms in front of her large chest. "Why did you take it off?" she demands, a ghost of a pout on her face.
"Why did you make me wear it?" he shoots back.
"It was part of your costume," she huffs, rolling her eyes, as if it was obvious. She plops a pair of round glasses on the bridge of her nose, and an origami hat on her own head. The hat is also simply made, but hers is smaller, with a lightning bolt painted smack dab in the middle.
"O…kay?" he murmurs, bewildered. But Shiroi keeps glaring at him, and he eventually gives in, tentatively placing the paper hat back on his head. He feels like a moron, but Shiroi is giving a pleased grin, so he'll have to ignore the fact that he's wearing a paper cone and suck it up.
"What are our costumes supposed to be?" the Sannin asks, deciding to play along, grinning despite himself.
"Yer a sensei-wizard, Jiraiya," the girl says, dead serious. After a few moments of awkward silence, she starts to snicker— and then begins laughing so uncontrollably and honestly that he can't help but stare. Because this is the honestly the first time since he's known the girl to see her having a laughing fit, and she's cackling like the entire thing is the funniest damn thing in the world.
After a few moments, the Sannin can't help but laugh along with her, bewildered and wondering what was so remarkably funny, but finding the entire situation ridiculous enough to laugh along with his protégé.
Shiroi's howling laughter tapers off into giggles, as she clutches her stomach and forces herself to breath deeply to calm down. Her face is flushed, and she wipes away her tears—whether of mirth or sadness, Jiraiya will never know.
"Sorry, sorry," she sighs, with a ridiculously happy smile. The white-haired man simply waves a hand, nonverbally saying that it was fine.
It was probably some inside joke from Murasaki Village.
"So, what's your costume supposed to be?" he asks, between stuffing his face with pumpkin pie.
"Harry Potter."
"A-whoozit-whazzit?" he asks, squinting at her.
"Heri Pouttaru; your wizard student," she clarifies, smile twitching wider on her face. "You're supposed to teach me magic to defeat the bad guys, sensei."
"Right. Okay. Makes sense," the Sannin says, shaking his head in bemusement.
The red-eyed teen then dragged him out of the room to help her pass out the extra chocolates to children, still in their odd 'costumes'.
Safe to say, he forgot to think about the Kyuubi Attack for the rest of the day.
His birthday was pretty good, all things considering. Shiroi made him chicken, just how he liked it. And she baked him a cake.
The caked was literally made to look like an Icha Icha Paradise book.
"Making your cake into a toad would have been ten times more difficult," the red-eyed girl explained. "So, one of your porn novels had to do."
Safe to say, Jiraiya considered the cake too beautiful and realistic to cut. With manly tears in his eyes, he ruined the perfection of a cake—and then promptly stuffed his face with it, not three seconds later.
Shiroi face-palmed at his theatrics, but laughed. Jiraiya considered that a win.
And then she had went and bought him a hooker for the night.
Jiraiya nearly hugged her to death, loudly proclaiming that she was the most considerate student he's ever had.
Jiraiya honestly wasn't expecting any more celebrations, after his birthday.
So, when he stepped inside shabby hotel room number fourty three in the third week of November, the day after Labour Day… he didn't expect a feast to be laid out on the table, and fall-themed decorations on the walls.
"What's the occasion this time?" he asked his protégé, now not even surprised to see her celebrating some other minor holiday of hers. This was the third one. And you know what they say; third time's the charm.
"Thanksgiving," Shiroi answered, bustling about the table, getting things arranged. "A proper celebration of the harvest season, during every third Thursday in November. It represents bountiful harvests, and a time of thanks for all that you possess. This comes in a form of a feast shared with loved ones. Poultry, bread, cranberries, and pumpkin pies are traditional dishes."
"How are we supposed to eat all of this food?" he mused, looking at the table, overloaded with dishes of all sorts.
The girl gave a shrug. "Eh. Eat the same thing for the next few days, as leftovers?"
Her unconcerned reply made Jiraiya give a tentative chuckle. "Won't…the food go bad?"
"Storage scrolls exist for a reason, Jiraiya-sama," she rebuked, voice tinged in amusement as she looked up at him, from her position in cutting up the bird—chicken?—she'd cooked. "But if it makes you feel better, we can donate the food to the local orphanages."
The Sannin's stomach clenches, and gives a flop. He gulps, forcing down any sadness or bitterness when it comes to those places. "Ah… sounds like a good plan!" he says, forcing boisterousness in his voice.
Shiroi shoos him with her hands to grab a plate and serve himself. With complete and utter faith in the girl's cooking—as well as faith that she didn't purposefully poison anything—the man started to serve himself a little bit of everything. He was curious.
Soba noodles, mashed potatoes, hand-broiled gravy, slices of wild turkey, steamed vegetables, thick cuts of cooked ham, baked bread rolls, fluffy rice, meat stew, buttered corn, cranberry sauce... And then a pumpkin, pecan, and apple pie for dessert.
When he finishes eating, he just leans back in his chair, stomach bloated and feeling like he wouldn't be able to move for the next week.
"Ohhhh…That was delicious. Hot damn," he murmurs, blinking blearily as he stares at the dishes upon dishes on the table. "Didn't even know you could cook so much food."
"I helped Mom cook," Shiroi responds idly. "Always helped her for holiday meals. My specialty was the ham, potatoes, and corn. They were the easiest to make, and I didn't get in her way."
Jiraiya hums, watching the girl, who stares up at the ceiling, her eyes unfocused. Reminiscing.
"Someone else taught me how to make pies and chocolates. Mom never knew how to make them. Could bake a cake just fine, but any other dessert was a mystery to her," the girl rambles, eyes half-lidded. Her red glaze slowly slides down, until it looks like she's trying to find the answers to the universe within the depths of the apple pie.
"I'm…I'm thankful for the time I had. With her," the teen goes on, in a hoarse voice. "I'm glad I got to know her. Thankful for her teaching me so much about cooking and sewing and just… life in general."
The girl takes a deep breath, body quivering. Jiraiya pretends to not notice the tears slowly dripping down her face. "I'm thankful I had a family. Thankful I-I had a-another chance." A pause, and a choked half-sob. "I'm th-thankful I-I'm alive."
The room is silent, except for the choking, shaky breathing coming from the broken girl. Jiraiya stares off into the distance, allowing the girl time to grieve, just a modicum of privacy.
A few minutes later, and Shiroi falls silent. Jiraiya eventually tears his gaze from the window, to look down at her.
She looks…Better. Her eyes are red and puffy, but her face is dry. She looks like someone who's just gotten something off their chest, after bottling it up for so long.
"Your turn," she says softly, glancing up at him through her bangs. "To say what you're thankful for."
The Sannin becomes stock-still, back tense. He's silent, mouth clamped down into a firm line.
"You don't have to pour out your heart, like I did," Shiroi added dryly. "Hell, you can just say you're thankful for the feast, and leave it at that."
The room is silent for a few more moments.
"…Actually, you better say you're thankful for the food. It took me a long time to make it all," she presses, shooting a small scowl at him.
Jiraiya finds himself relaxing. Shiroi is…back to how she usually acts. In its own way, that's comforting.
The man reaches out, and ruffles her long hair. She scowls harder, batting his larger hand away to smooth it back down again.
He grins at her. "Well, of course I am! Your food's the best, my little student! And it's also the most feminine thing you do, which is always a plus."
The teen rolls her eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you? Cooking isn't feminine. It's something everything must do, so it's a gender-neutral activity—"
"And I suppose I'm grateful for having you be my traveling companion, no matter how picky and weird you are," he goes on loudly, talking over her. He grinned cheekily at her unimpressed expression, wiggling his eyebrows. "I always wanted to have a lady by my side, you know."
"Yes. You've told me. Thirty seven times," she deadpanned, eyes half-lidded.
"Really? That's news to me!" he chirps, giving a wide, stupid smile, just to make her irritated. She gave a scoff; mission accomplished.
"Alright. You don't have to list things anymore," she says, giving a shake of her head, a fond smile twitching on her lips.
"But I have so much more to be thankful about! Like the curves and the softness of—" he gestures voraciously, before Shiroi chucks a bread roll at his head. He ducks, letting it sail past. "Hey! That's a waste of a perfectly good bread roll!"
The two devolved into lighthearted, familiar banter. Neither brought up Shiroi's emotional breakdown, having an unspoken understanding to let that type of stuff go.
The Sannin stands back, when Shiroi knocks on the door of the local orphanage of the minor village, in a minor country. Stands idly in the corner, when she helps the matrons dish out the Thanksgiving dinner she cooked. Watches as she smiles softly at all the children who chatter, happy at the abundance of delicious food she's brought them.
And Jiraiya admits to himself, that he wasn't lying when he told her he was thankful to have her as a traveling companion.
December rolls through. Bizarrely, as the days pass, Shiroi starts to act…off again.
She's always in a ridiculously good mood, humming and sewing and knitting. She turns rather…jolly. Domestic, even.
It weirds him out, to be honest.
Then she starts to burst into song in random intervals, and things sort of snowball from there.
"Jingle bells, jingle bells,
Jingle all the waaaaaay,
Oh, what fun it is to ride,
In a one-horse open sle-eeeeigh!"
Jiraiya stared at Shiroi in fascination, as she sang with a smile on her face while she made onigiri. She even made hand gestures to go with the very, very odd song.
She was actually pretty decent at singing. But that wasn't the point.
If he didn't know his student any better, Jiraiya would have thought she was high off of something. But despite the apparent flip of personality, she still sounded like Shiroi. Had the same chakra. Same habits and ticks and tells.
Idly, the Sannin flared his chakra, just in case. Just in case this was all some sort of elaborate genjutsu or something that Shiroi had decided to practice on him. She could pull something like that off; she was rather creative, and had the chakra control.
Nothing wavered. All he ended up doing was catching his protégé's full attention.
"Ah, Jiraiya-sama. I suppose you're hungry?" the girl asked—nay, chirped—with a grin.
The bear of a man stumbled back, movements exaggerated. "Who are you, and what have you done with Shiroi-chan?" he mock-wailed. Except he wasn't really kidding about his question, because this was all just ridiculously bizarre and the Shiroi before him could, in fact, be an imposter. Or she could be compromised. Drugged? Under someone's compulsion?
His wild thoughts stopped, when the white-haired teen huffed, rolling her red eyes in a familiar way. "Tch. I'm just in a good mood."
"In enough of a good mood to randomly break into song?" he stresses dubiously, brow furrowed, and utterly unconvinced.
The girl raised an eyebrow at him sassily. "They're Christmas Carols. Of course it'd make sense for me to sing them when it's nearing Christmas."
"Ku…Kuri…sumasu?" he repeats carefully, wrinkling his nose slightly at the odd name. "Another obscure holiday?"
"Yup," she replied, popping the 'p'. "Christmas Eve is the twenty fourth. Christmas Day is the twenty fifth."
He sat down at the table, rubbing his face. "Alright, so…What's this…Kurisumasu about?
The teen finished making the rice balls, plating them and setting it in front of him. She cleaned her hands, and then went to sit across from him.
"Well, the holiday was originally intended to be about the birth of Jesus Christ," she began, tapping her long fingers idly on the tabletop. "Who, through legends, was said to have been the son of God."
"Wait, wait, wait," the man interjected, one hand raised. "So, you mean…This is about the birth of a guy, who was the son of the Sage of Six Paths? Who you call Jiisuus Kuraisuto?"
"Uh…Yeah? I suppose. In a way," she shrugged in response. "Hell if I really know. It's all about vague accounts, legends, and a religion. That's not the only part about Christmas, though."
"Alright. Go on," Jiraiya says warily, slowly biting into one of the onigiri. Mmm. Chicken.
"Mostly, the holiday is about gift giving. It's said that three wise men gave gifts to Jesus when he was born, to be respectful. So, people give gifts to one another. Usually to family and friends," the teen waved a lazy hand in the air. "People are supposed to be giving and benevolent. And take the holiday cheer seriously—forgive people, spend time with family, etcetera."
"Not a bad holiday, I guess," Jiraiya drawled, nodding. A smile twitched on his lips. "So, it's because of this 'holiday cheer' that you're singing those…songs?"
"They're tradition," the girl says firmly, with a huff, crossing her arms and looking away. A blush creeps up her neck.
"How many are there…? Because I swore you've been humming and singing at least a dozen of them," the man probed teasingly.
Shiroi froze. Then she tilted her head up, and stared up at the ceiling in contemplation. She started to mouth the names of different songs, using her fingers to count them.
Jiraiya simply stared at her, mouth agape, as it took her about two full minutes to think and count them all.
"There's around…thirty or so," the girl said offhandedly, brow furrowed and lips puckered. "I'm pretty sure I'm missing some, but…Those are the ones I know."
"Kami-sama," he breathed, before shaking his head to rid himself of his mild awe. "Does this mean you're going to be jabbering and singing my ears off until the twenty fifth…?" he goes on carefully, eyebrow raised.
His student mirrored his look, but with a smirk on her face and an impish gleam in her eyes. "Why, Jiraiya-sama—that sounds like a marvelous idea of how to get you into the holiday spirit! Thank you for giving me a way to let you become familiar to my people's customs. Perhaps I should start now…?"
The man groaned, leaning back his chair, throwing his head back and covering the top half of his face with his hand. He can feel Shiroi's smirk, even if he's not looking at her.
Cheeky brat then started to sing.
"It's the moooost wonderful tiiiiime of the yeeeeear,
There'll be muuuuch mistle-toeiiiing,
And heeeearts will be glowiiiing,
When looooved ones are neeeear,
It's the moooost wonderful tiiiiime of the yeeeeeear!"
Jiraiya began to laugh. This entire situation was absurd.
He's not sure why he's surprised by this fact, anymore. He was traveling with Shiroi-chan, after all. Absurdity should be the girl's last name.
Jiraiya learns an absurd amount about Kurisumasu, and its weird customs, in only a few hours. Apparently, it was the biggest time of the year in Shiroi's homeland, and has dozens of traditions and legends and songs and customs about it.
The main colors are red, green, and white. Silver and gold are optional, usually showing up in decorations. And something called 'tinsel'. Which were strands of small, colorful material strung up together, or something. Hard to follow Shiroi's vivid descriptions of the stuff, when it didn't exist in any country outside Grass.
Bells were very much appreciated as decorations, as well. Along with striped items. And large stockings. You stuffed said large stockings with candy and small presents, for children. But the main thing was an evergreen tree—you cut one down, decorate it, and then put all your presents under it.
Oh, and chimneys were important. Always needed a chimney. For the 'aesthetic'.
It's also how a Santa Kurosu visited your home. Or something.
"Up on the housetop reindeer paaaause,
Out jumps Good Ol' Santa Claaaaus,
Down through the chimney with lots of tooooys,
All for the little good girls and boooys,
Ho, ho ho! Who wouldn't go?
Ho, ho ho! Who wouldn't go-oooo?
Up on the housetop, click, click, click!
Down through the chimney, with good Saint Nick!"
"What's a Santa Kurosu? And a Seintu Niku?" Jiraiya asked, curious despite himself. Because the Sannin honestly couldn't imagine a man riding a reindeer, slipping into his home through the chimney, and then leaving presents instead of sabotaging the home or killing all inhabitants.
"They're the same person. Santa Clause is known as Saint Nicholas, or Saint Nick," the girl said idly, while she knitted and balanced a stack of books on her head at the same time. "He's a jolly man with a large stomach, who wears all red, has white hair, and a ridiculously fluffy white beard. Wears glasses, and acts like a grandfather figure."
"Why does he…" the Sannin started, before waving his hand around, not able to put his befuddlement into words.
"The story goes that the man rides a large sleigh, pulled by magical flying reindeer. He manages to go across the entire world, and gift all good little boys and girls presents. He has two lists—a Good and a Naughty list, and knows where each child falls on the lists. Only good children are gifted things; the naughty are given coal in their stockings. He is never caught, since he always knows when the inhabitants of any home are sleeping, and always manages to slip in the home to give gifts."
Jiraiya squinted at his protégé. Each subsequent sentence sounded more absurd than the last.
"Hold on a minute—you're saying this fat man in bright red somehow manages to get into anyone's home? Just to leave presents?"
"Yup."
"And he goes through the chimney, of all things?" he goes on, baffled. "If he's so large, how does he fit?"
A small grin started to form on Shiroi's face. "Through the power of the Christmas spirit, of course."
"Argh!" the man exclaimed, rubbing furiously at his hair. "That makes no sense!"
"Magic, Jiraiya-sama," she replied placidly, an amused look on her face. "It's magic…You knoooow? Never be-lieve it's not so—"
"Don't you dare break out into singing carols again," Jiraiya growled, jabbing a finger in her direction.
The teen merely gave a slow blink, an innocent look on her face. "I don't know what you mean, Jiraiya-sama."
"Don't play dumb with me," the man huffed, crossing his arms. "You were singing a carol about magic and the spirit of the holidays. I know you were."
"Jiraiya-sama, I was not, in fact, singing a carol," the girl replied, utterly serious. And honest. She was giving away nothing to show that she was lying. Then, her lips twitched. "I was simply singing a normal song."
The next few days were full of songs about bells and trees and reindeer and snowmen and Santa Kurosu.
They were also spent with Jiraiya questioning everything in those carols, because of just how absurd and bizarre they were.
"Frostyyyyy the snowmaaaan,
Was alive as he could beeee,
And the children say,
He could laugh and play,
Just the same as you and meeee—"
"How does the snowman even walk and talk?" Jiraiya asked grumpily.
"It's a magic snowman, Jiraiya-sama," the girl replied calmly. "When given various features by the children, and given a top hat imbued with magic, he became real."
"So, this hat was some sort of powerful chakra relic? Because that's the only thing that would make sense. That, or someone created him with Ice Release or Snow jutsu," he needled, arms crossed.
"Sure. If you want to give a justification to a make-believe snowman from a song, go right ahead," Shiroi said bemused. Jiraiya harrumphed and pouted.
A few hours later, came the song about the reindeer.
"Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeeeeer,
Had a very shiny nose—like a light bulb!
And if you ever saw iiiiit,
You would even say it glows—like a flashlight!
All of the other reindeeeeer,
Used to laugh and call him naaaames,
They never let poor Rudooooolph,
Join in any reindeer gaaaames!"
"How can reindeers pull a large sled—which is full of a bags of gifts, and a fat man? I mean, that's the description of what Santa's sleigh would be," Jiraiya rambled. "And then one of these reindeers happens to have some sort of nose that glows red like a flashlight? How does that even work? Are the reindeers some sort of Summons? Are they contracted under Santa?"
Shiroi sighed, setting down her knitting. Then, she began to list off responses. "It's a magic sled. Santa has magic gift bags to fit all the presents. They're nine reindeer. Yes, Rudolf is special—that's why he gets his own song. No, I don't know if they're Summons. They work for Santa, so, sure."
The most annoying song his student sang was something about the 'twelve days of Kurisumasu'. Half because some of the 'gifts' in the song were ridiculous. Half because of how damn long the entire song was. It just kept repeating, over and over, until it finally got to the twelfth present, counting downwards from there.
The girl even made props for when she sang the song. Using her fire chakra, she created shapes in the air of each subsequent gift.
It was an inventive use of fire chakra, and a chakra exercise full of ingenuity. But that didn't mean he had to like it.
Honestly, Jiraiya wished she would go back to being her quiet, serious self, if only to have her shut up. It was baffling to hear her voice so much, and for so long—not to mention having her sing.
She was…happy, though. So despite his grumbling, he put up with it.
December twenty forth finally came. Shiroi had the entire hotel room decked out in decorations, as she fluttered to and fro, hanging things and covering as much space as possible with green and white and red.
"I have to go cook our meal. Be back in a few hours," she said quickly, before promptly jumping out the window and leaving him sitting bemusedly in the room, alone.
Later, she came back casually carrying an evergreen tree on her shoulder, while Jiraiya was working through intelligence notes over one of his contacts. Thankfully, she used the door, instead of the window. He's pretty sure the damned tree wouldn't have fit through the small opening of the window.
Then again, there'd probably be complaints from the hotel staff, seeing her carry a tree inside.
Oh, well. He'll just bribe them later, if they raise a fuss.
Shiroi set the tree down in the corner of the room, causing the entire thing to shake, some needles spilling on the floor. She took out one of her larger sealing scrolls, flicking it open, and then unsealed certain compartments.
Trinkets now littered the floor. With a calm, practiced hand, the white-haired teen began to decorate the tree.
"Where's the presents?" Jiraiya asked, curious despite himself. "Or are you going to sing another carol, when you put them under the tree?"
"Well, I suppose, if you're so keen for one…" she said, her voice saturated with amusement. "Walkin' around the Christmas Tree—"
"I was joking! Joking!" the Sannin said quickly, waving his hands around. The girl laughed, and he pouted.
"I'm not putting the presents under there, in case you decide to peek into them."
"So…When I wake, Santa will have the tree full of presents for me?" he said teasingly.
"No. Because you're on the naughty list, Jiraiya-sama," the girl sniffed haughtily. "Santa wouldn't give you presents."
"Awwww, c'mon!" he whined. "I've been good! Don't be like that!"
"He knows when you've been bad or good,
So be good for Goodness' sake.
Oh!
You better watch out,
You better not cry—" Shiroi started to sing, with a smirk.
Jiraiya clapped his hands over his ears, howling comically. "Gaaaaah! Not another one! Please! I'll be good!"
"Anyways," the girl went on, rolling her eyes. "Santa isn't real. He's just a legend, and a person parents use to make their kids behave. I saw Kaa-san, once, putting gifts under the tree when she thought I was asleep. It's just tradition to sing about him and talk about him."
"Yeesh, you're such a killjoy," Jiraiya huffed out in amusement, before he went over to ruffle her hair. She gave an annoyed look. "Where's that Kurisumasu spirit, eh? I thought you believed enough to try and convert me, like a cultist, or something."
"I don't particularly believe in the things that the holiday is about. Doesn't mean I don't believe in the values," she sniffed, trying to pat her hair down again. "Or getting gifts."
"Getting gifts is always nice," he hummed in agreement.
Shiroi sang for most of the day as she prepared her weird traditional decorations. The two went to sleep, only for the teen to wake him up at the ass-crack of dawn on the twenty fifth.
The Sannin groaned loudly, rolling over to smash his face into his pillow. "Whyyyyyy," he whined. The sound was muffled by the pillow.
"Meri Kurisumasu." Something dropped on his head. He lifted it up, only to see a red-and-white hat slide down onto the pillow.
"What's this?" he asked blearily.
"Santa's hat."
He frowned. "Do I have to wear it?"
"If you wear it of your own free will, I won't force the fake beard or grandpa glasses on your face."
With a dramatic sigh, the man sat up, and plopped the (rather warm) hat on his head. "Fine, fine." After a few moments of grumbling and yawning, he asked, "Why did you wake me up so damned early?"
"To see the sunrise," the girl shrugged. She had dark circles under her eyes, but she hid her tiredness well.
"You're only doing this to distract me from the presents, I bet," he mused aloud. The girl gave a twitch, and he smirked. "I knew it. So, Santa-san didn't come after all, eh?"
Shiroi gave a haughty sniff. She then turned on her heel to grab one of the hung-up, oversized stockings, and tossed it underhand to him. "If you're up for it, we can start. If not, just go to sleep again, old man."
"Is it part of tradition to wake up early for presents? Because if it is, I vote we do it later, next year," he said idly, riffling through the stocking. There were chocolates and nuts, but also an insulated bottle of sake. He grinned widely. "Sweet! Santa-san really knows me well. I'm touched."
Jiraiya could feel Shiroi roll her eyes at him, as he opened the bottle. "I thought you were tired and wanted to go to sleep again. Didn't think you'd instantly start drinking."
"Waste not, want not," he shrugged, shooting his protégé a cheeky smile between sips of alcohol.
"Tch. Come here and get your present from under the tree, then, if you're so lively," she drawled in reply, jerking her head over to the tree.
"Sure, sure." He got up, walked over, and plopped down in front of the tree, next to his student's cross-legged position. He saw the wrapped box with a tag printed with his name, and pulled it towards him.
Curious, he ripped off the wrapping, looking inside the box. He took out the carefully folded material.
It was a knitted sweater, red, with a green tree on the front.
Well…At least he knew what the girl was making, when she was knitting all that time.
"Huh," he said, staring down at it. It felt remarkably soft. "So, this was what you were making."
It wasn't a fancy gift, by any means. But the fact that she knitted it by hand certainly made it more…meaningful.
He looked up, to see Shiroi's attentive face. She was biting at her lip nervously.
"So…" she trailed off.
"So?"
She gave a peeved look, face flushed. "Put it on," she huffed, crossing her arms and looking away from him defensively.
With a chuckle, he took off the Santa hat and pulled the sweater over his head. Wriggling a bit once it was on, he looked it over.
It fit him well, actually. The fact that the colors were so bright and eye-watering, clashing against one another spectacularly, made him smile.
"It's a damn good sweater, for your first attempt," he admitted, smile on his face widening as he struck dramatic poses. "Warm, comfortable, high maneuverability—hey, you think the ladies will approve?"
Shiroi gave a startled laugh, staring at him. "So you, um…You like it?" she asked, voice rather tentative.
"Better than any sweater I could ever buy from a shop. I mean, hell! It's even got secret pockets!" he said, patting it down. His voice softened, as he added, "I love it. Thanks."
The white-haired teen ducked her head, but the man caught her giving a small, pleased smile. "You're welcome."
After a few seconds of comfortable (and rather cheesy, in his opinion) silence, Jiraiya clapped his massive hands together. "Alright! So, since you've given me my gift, it's your turn!"
"Y-You got me a gift?" she blurted out, blinking wide, redeyes at him.
"'Course I did," he huffed, standing up and going over to his supplies. He began to riffle through his things, before unsealing a small, inconspicuous package from one of his scrolls.
He tossed the package to his student, underhanded. She caught it easily. "It's not hand-made, or as big, but…"
Shiroi quickly unwrapped the packaging, staring down at the set of red, flame-patterned hair clips he got her.
"Since you made such a big deal about the holiday, I decided to get you a gift, but couldn't really think of what to get you…" he mumbled an explanation, scratching at the back of his head, and avoiding looking at her. "You're always complaining about your hair getting in your face, and—"
"Thank you." Jiraiya looked from the tree, over to her. There was a slight smile on her face, as she took out the clips, and began to place them in her hair. On the left side of her hair parting, she made two Xs. On the right side, she placed a lone hairclip besides two that made a V shape.
Feeling relieved that she actually found use for his gift, the man took a swig from his sake bottle to hide his smile.
On the last day of the year, Jiraiya went out of the brothels. When it hit midnight, he was bombarded by confetti.
While he was spluttering in confusion from the assault of colorful, nonlethal objects, Shiroi merely snickered and left, before he could do anything in retaliation.
If he got past the fact that he was unnerved that she came across him during his questionable business…He was actually a bit impressed that she managed to prank him.
He went back to the hotel, and woke up properly on New Year's day, to watch the sunrise with his student.
No more Kurisumasu carols. On the twenty sixth, Shiroi had stopped singing completely.
That didn't mean she wasn't happy. She held a pleased air about her, after she cleaned up the decorations from her crazy, backwaters holiday of hers.
To be sure, she used his toads to run messenger duty to deliver gifts to her friends before New Years. He'd warned her that he was going to need to send messages on that day.
He didn't mention that he was going to send a good luck charm to his godson, or some premium tobacco to Hiruzen-sensei. But by the knowing look Shiroi had given him, she knew he was giving gifts of his own to loved ones.
"What are we doing today, Jiraiya-sama?" his protégé asked him, as he took them through the crowds of the market.
They'd staid in this town for the past two weeks—the entirety of Shiroi's Kurisumasu craze—but also because he wanted them to attend the New Years festivities. It was the place in the area with the best, and largest, festivals. And with a shrine not a long walk away, to boot.
"Going to the New Year's festival, of course!" he replied, shooting her a smile over his shoulder. She merely gave him an unimpressed look in return. "C'mon, don't give me that look. There's never a thing as too many festivals!"
"Festivals are exciting…too exciting," she sighed, hand on her hip.
"What—are you all out of holiday spirit?" he teased her. Her lips twitched, and his grin widened. "New Years is the best holiday of the year, Shiroi-chan! At least, for normal people."
The red-eyed teen didn't react to his jab. "Still too many damn people to deal with," she murmured, before sighing. "You'll drag me out anyways, so…I suppose I'll agree to go along. Just please don't make me wear another kimono."
"Too much money to buy you another one," he acquiesced easily, waving a lazy hand about. He smirked when she gave a relieved sigh. "The one you have is pretty enough."
She smacked a hand against her face. "Oh God…You're going to make me wear a kimono again?"
"It's tradiiiitiiion!" the Sannin sing-songed loudly over her groan.
"I thought visiting the temples and eating soba was tradition," she muttered.
"It is. So you have to be dressed properly to visit the temples," he said sagely, nodding.
The teen gave him a side-eyed glare. "You're going to just go there as you're dressed now. Don't give me that bull, Jiraiya-sama."
He gave a dramatic sigh. "What is with me having a cute little student that doesn't want to dress up in the pretty kimono I gave her…!" he exclaimed, a hand clutched at his chest.
"Oh, no—you are not guilting me into dressing in it," Shiroi growled. "We have to climb stairs to get to temples. Do you know how much of an utter pain that is, while wearing a decked-out kimono?"
"Nope!" he chirped, giving a guileless smile. The girl glared, and swatted his shoulder. He gave her a pout. "Come ooooon, Shiroi-chan!"
"Can't I just wear a simple yukata…? Those don't piss me off nearly as much as a kimono," she sighed, scratching at the back of her neck.
"You don't nearly look as cute in one," the man pointed out, still pouting at her.
"They're not nearly as cumbersome as a proper kimono, and more people wear yukata nowadays, anyways. Seems like a better option to me," the teen stated, crossing her arms.
Ah. She was going to be bullheaded about this.
"But how can you wear a yukata…If you don't even have one?" Jiraiya asked slyly, smirking at his student's blank look.
"…Then I suppose I'll just go as is," she shrugged nonchalantly. He gave her an affronted look. She held up a hand to keep him silent. "I'll let you drag me through the festivals and temple without complaints, if you let me go as I'm dressed now."
The white-haired man scrutinized the sixteen-year-old closely, before he finally nodded. He shot her a grin, full of teeth. "Deal. Just remember—you said no complaints!" he sing-songed, rubbing his hands together.
Shiroi narrowed her eyes at him warily. "…Right. I'm sure I'll wish for an early grave, but I'm sticking to this agreement."
"Jiraiya-sama, this is the third fish-catching game booth we've been to," Shiroi groaned in exasperation, as the bear of a man crouched in front of the man made pond.
"You still don't know how to catch one properly, Shiroi-chan. It's a skill you've got to know, when you're at a festival," he told her, giving her a wide grin.
The teen sighed, rolling her eyes, but ultimately crouched down next to him. He paid the booth owner, and shoved one of the little paper scoops into her hands.
The fun thing about Shiroi making promises is that she's usually very good at keeping them. This meant that, despite her sassy eye rolls and various sighs of displeasure, she went along with whatever activity he wanted to drag her off to.
They already went to eat soba and visit the temple to give their prayers and make fortunes. His student didn't have any complaints about the process—in fact, she was rather fascinated by the entire ordeal.
Their fortunes both held 'mild luck'. She also threw some ryo coins into the nearby fountain.
It was when they went to the livelier event of the festival that she started to become…grumpy. Despite the fact that the temple was packed with almost just as many people, once they stepped into the festival, she seemed to start losing patience with the crowded, loud atmosphere.
They went to different stands. He bought her a white rabbit mask, and a toad mask for himself, making jokes about how it fit her, all the way until she stuffed a fried squid into his mouth. Then, they went and bought some osechi ryiori, and dango.
When she was disinterested in actually buying any wears from the festival that didn't pertain to food, he took her to the game booths. The first had been a fish-catching game—and so far, that's been the only game they've played.
Well, Shiroi, rather than him. He first time he tried, he caught a fish, and instantly gave it to a passing kid. Shiroi kept on trying, but hasn't managed to catch even one, so far.
"What will I even do when I've caught one…?" Shiroi mused, before glaring at the broken scoop she just tried with. "Carrying around a pet fish in our travels isn't exactly going to be easy, you know. Or useful."
"It's the experience that counts, my girl!" he exclaimed, clapping a hand against her back. She lurched forwards from the force of his playful blow, and the next fish she tried to catch broke through the paper scoop, leaving her with another broken one.
The white-haired girl shot him an acidic glare, while he merely gave a cheeky smile in return.
"Fine," she groused, before turning back to the pond, glaring at the goldfish in determination. "I suppose I can gift the fish to a child that couldn't catch one. Won't make up for the time and money, but it'll be a good enough conclusion."
"That's the spirit!" he boomed, clapping her on the back once more. This time, she didn't move an inch—she was keeping herself balanced and glued to the ground with chakra. She shot him a look full of judgmental half-lidded eyes, in response.
Many broken paper scoops later, and his red-eyed student managed to scoop a fish into her bowl.
"Yeah!" she exclaimed, throwing down her winning scoop on the ground. She shoved the bowl into his face, the white goldfish staring at him, while she pointed viciously at the fish. "Suck it!"
"My, my, what an enthusiastic reaction," he laughed, gently pushing the bowl away from his face.
The white-haired girl gave a huff. "Well, I finally managed it, after twenty one tries," she said peevishly, an accomplished glimmer in her red eyes. "Now, I can finally stop playing this stupid game. I was considering rage-quitting, a few times."
She handed the bowl over to the booth owner, who put the goldfish in a small, plastic bag. The teen snatched it from the man's hands, before almost instantly handing it off to a little girl who was crouched nearby, who didn't have her own goldfish.
After a few more hours of walking around, and Shiroi getting subsequently more tired and grumpy, Jiraiya finally led them to their hotel room.
"Here. Almost forgot about your New Year's envelope," he said casually, taking it from an inner pocket, and shoving it into her hands.
His student blinked up quizzically at him. "You…didn't have to."
"I wanted to. It's tradition," he shrugged.
"Oh. Um…Thank you, then, Jiraiya-sama," the teen responded, quietly staring down at the red-and-gold envelope. She opened it, looking inside. "Oh, wow."
The man busied himself with something, so he wouldn't have to look at her. He knew he'd given her a large sum, and that she was surprised for him doing so. It made him a bit…embarrassed.
But, well…It's not like he had any other students. Didn't have many people in general, that he was close to.
He should be allowed to give her a good New Year's allowance.
He should be allowed this weakness.
"You can use that however you want," he grunted, scratching at the back of his neck. "But I know you'll probably spend it all on training supplies, or on other people, since that's just how you are. So, I'll give you the advice to use it to further your fuinjutsu studies. All that ink, paper, and brushes add up, you know."
"I…Right," she agreed absently. There was a shift of fabric, and then the girl was hovering next to him, before she carefully wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you. Happy New Year, Jiraiya-sama."
He set one of his large hands on her head, in lieu of hugging her back, but she didn't seem to mind.
"Happy New Year, Shiroi."