Tsunade stopped dead in her tracks, realizing that in her solid concentration on the object in her hand, she had let her worst fear come to pass.

She'd let Jiraiya loose in the store.

Alone.

Unsupervised.

She slowly set down the palm pilot she'd been inspecting. It was, of course, perfect, just the thing she needed to organize future missions. But at that ridiculous price...Konoha would survive without it.

Besides, there were fouler things afoot.

Or, at least, more pressing matters that needed her attention. Such as the world's number one baby, the great toad hermit, roaming an unsuspecting Target.

Elsewhere!

The aisles were quiet. Too quiet. Then a blur flashed through, and everything exploded. With alarms and engine sounds, that is. Jiraiya stood proudly at the head of the aisle. And he was duly proud: he'd managed to hit every button on every toy truck and fire engine and helicopter and batmobile and Hummer so quickly that they all went off seemingly at once. And on the first try, too.

He walked back over, sticking his fingers into the "try me!" holes in the plastic boxes. Idly, he spun the spinners on a Hummer. They spun quite nicely. Not like that cheap Toyota a couple boxes down. No quality at all. The makers of that toy should have been ashamed of themselves.

Then he spotted them.

His face flushed, and his eyes melted. Like a crab scuttling behind a rock, the large shinobi scuttled over behind the girls. He couldn't resist! They were giggling and everything!

The two young women were not so pleased. Somehow, just somehow, they'd managed to spot him. They turned from the shelf they were looking at to stare at the creepy old man standing drooling behind them.

"You're a creepy old man," one said to him.

"Why are you standing behind us?" said the other.

Darn. He'd been found out. He fumbled for an excuse. "I—I, uh, I was just, you know, yeah, I mean, you see, right, of course I—what's that you've got?" Excuses were not his strong point. He was unaccustomed to being caught.

The girls looked down at the toys they were holding. They were red, with big buttons, resembling a phone. "It's Merlin," one replied. "There's a bunch of different games on it."

Jiraiya chuckled. "Aren't you two a little too old for kids' games!"

They glared glares of malicious hatred, glares that just screamed WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE TOYS AISLE, OLD MAN, and he whimpered, retreating.

TO BE CONTINUED