The shinobi lifestyle made a stain on Jiraiya before it ever touched Tsunade or Orochimaru. They were taught from an early age that death is a necessary and inevitable stage of human life, and that killing for one's village is an honorable deed befitting heroes. Kneeling in front of what was once a person but was now only a pile of flesh and limbs, Jiraiya listed the Shinobi Rules darkly.
"Rule 25: A shinobi must never show emotion. Rule 26: A shinobi accepts death before stepping onto the battlefield…"
As if learning those rules in the Academy meant anything at all. Jiraiya felt an urge to throw his head back and laugh. Maybe he was going crazy, hysterical. The rules meant nothing now - they were simply words in the wind. The mutilated body before him…that was what it meant to be a shinobi.
Warmth. A hand on his shoulder. Tsunade stood beside him, grieving with him while Orochimaru crouched down while facing him, expression completely unreadable.
"Jiraiya…" Tsunade said. He could hear the worry in her voice, but it was not processing. Why did she sound that way? He was a shinobi after all; he had proven it today.
"I did this," Jiraiya opened his arms, indicating the corpse in front of him. His voice felt foreign and very far away. Did he always sound this broken? "I guess I can say I am a real shinobi now, right? This is the pride of shinobi, the purpose of all shinobi. Killing…"
A pair of arms wrapped around him, holding him as Jiraiya proceeded to break the Shinobi Rules he had spent so many hours trying to memorize as a child by dissolving into tears. Orochimaru offered Jiraiya a clean bandage to wipe his face with (bandage, because they were shinobi and did not carry handkerchiefs like civilians) in a rare show of emotional comprehension. They stood there for an undefinable period of time while Jiraiya tried to hold onto the vestiges of his childhood, and upon failing, could do nothing more than mourn for the years he had lost.
They were nine years old then, and as disillusioned with the world as the adults that orchestrated their every mission.
/*/
Jiraiya never willingly spoke of the incident again, and to his relief, neither did either of his teammates. As far as he knew, Sarutobi-sensei never found out, and though it likely wouldn't have made any difference, Jiraiya felt that much better about keeping some of his dignity intact. He dutifully turned up the melodrama whenever possible, spoke boisterously about everything, and accentuated his statements with exaggerated expressions.
If anybody asked, Jiraiya would always say it was to make up for Orochimaru's lack of enthusiasm, or to win over Tsunade's heart. The truth, as was so often the case, was much less valiant. Jiraiya had become a shinobi, one capable of killing without hesitation. But that did not mean he had to lose himself in the process. If anything, he would amplify his persona to drown out everything else around him, because only then could he bear losing a piece of himself every time he ended a life.
Jiraiya grinned broadly at the world, head held high, all the while struggling to stay afloat.
