The Speed Racer theme was mysteriously emanating from the pink and white blur that skidded through the store. People screamed and jumped out of the way—the lucky ones did, anyway. There was no stopping it. There was no slowing it down. It just kept going and going and going and going and going and going and going and going and going... ... ...
The demon on wheels was none other than Jiraiya himself. He was wild and he was free. In the twenty minutes he'd been terrorizing the store, he hadn't seen a single employee trying to stop him. Which was a shame, as he would have enjoyed the challenge, but this uncontested freedom was pretty nice, too.
"Go Speed Racer, Go Speed Racer, Go Speed Racer go!" he sang as he pulled down an aisle for a victory lap. But adventure wasn't waitin' just ahead. Unless you consider a potted house tree an adventure. I suppose it could be, if you tried, but it wasn't right then.
I'm not even sure if Jiraiya saw the tree before he hit it. Kids, stay alive, don't drink and drive. Because Jiraiya was drunk: drunk on the euphoria of transgression.
In any case, the crash was not pretty. The mangled, burning wreckage of the bike was almost enough to bring news helicopters. A twisted wheel rolled feebly down the aisle as Jiraiya crawled from the flames. He glared up at the unscathed tree, coughing smoke at it.
Now he needed a new toy.
Out there in the yonder!
Tsunade's new companion wasn't the talkative type, but she guessed that was ok, considering all he'd been through. What really bothered her, though, was the fact that she just could not remember his name. Which was silly, because she was pretty sure that he had one. They wandered through several aisles together in silence as she wracked her brain.
They started in the medicine aisle, which was interesting for a while. She had been impressed by the variety and quality of the medicines available. She would have to ask the Naras to start working on coming up with local versions of the brand name stuff. Then they came upon the vitamins, and she had to raise an eyebrow at some of the soldier pills. No pill could increase your chakra and do that at the same time. Her skepticism grew as she surveyed the shelves opposite. "Health" bars, the whole lot. Bars to make you loose 50 pounds a day. All in flavors of "Chocolate Peanut Cake" and "Sweet Strawberry Silk." It was sad.
Ah, the next aisle was getting better. First aid was something she knew one or two things about. She picked up a box of band-aids for kids. They appeared to be covered in pictures of brightly colored animal-like things. The times had certainly changed since she had been a little girl. Which, of course, had only been 15 years ago, and you'd best remember that.
Behind her and Yondaime, two men were looking through the shaving supplies. One was covered in bandages and scars and sported an eyepatch—not uncommon. The other was taller and wore a black business suit. Suspicious.
"Brad-chan," the eyepatch one said, "I want this one. It says it has Comfort-Coated (tm) Blades. Three of them!"
Brad looked down, squinting behind round glasses. "Those are to make sure you don't cut yourself, Farfie-chan. Most people prefer that."
Tsunade and Yondaime glanced discreetly at each other, before slipping quietly away. There were some scary people in Target.