On Frogs and Foxes

By: Madd Envy Freak

Summary: Jiraiya is a scientist doing research on the mating rituals of frogs in Urban areas trying to out-do his rival, Orochimaru, and the snake-man's assistant, Sasuke. Too bad he's busy trying to keep himself from smacking his new little helper… who is too damn sexy for his own good. And the brat knows it, too. Jiraiya/Naruto; one-sided SasuNaru (no, there will NOT be OrochiSasu. That just weirds me out. Lol)

---

"This is ridiculous," Naruto muttered to himself as he looked around the plain station, shifting his bag higher up on his shoulder.

The professor he was supposed to be here studying with was over an hour late, and it was getting dark outside. Tsunade had assured him many times that the white-haired man (Jiraiya, was it?) would be here on time, and that he wouldn't need to travel the big, bad city streets of Tokyo alone…

Not that he was scared of the city, or anything.

Hell, Naruto Uzumaki wasn't afraid of anything after living in New York!

It's just that a hot little specimen like himself tended to end up in alleyways raped and dead in big foreign cities like this. Anyone who watched the travel channel knew that.

Yeah, he wasn't modest, he knew he was a tasty little fuck.

And, shit, he didn't want to be ass-raped, thank you very much.

Alas, the great gods of strife and misery were after him that week, so he was forced to venture out into the dark in search of the mysterious Emperor's Dragon Hotel on his own.

---

As he suspected, it had taken a grand total of ten minutes and thirty-three seconds to be cornered in an alley by a bunch of ugly, smelly thugs.

Not that he was gloating, or anything.

Damn his good looks.

"Gives all yous money, bitch."

Wow, the bastard spoke pretty good smack-English for being a street thug in Japan. Go figure.

"Shit, I'm a fuckin' college student--I HAVE no money, jackass." (A/N: So, so true… I feel your pain, Naruto…)

Of course, him and his big mouth… maybe he really would be raped tonight?

---

Jiraiya looked up at the hotel bar's ceiling as he blinked. What was he forgetting? Shrugging to himself, he took another sip of his sake, letting the liquid heat rush through his body.

"Well well… If it isn't Jiraiya…"

Twitching, the white haired man turned to glare at his long time rival/stealer of grant money, Orochimaru, and his cocky, smirking, bastard of an assistant, Sasuke. Well, one of his cocky, smirking, bastards of assistants, anyway.

"What the hell do you want, bastard?" he growled out.

"Now now, Jiraiya, is that any way to talk to an old friend?"

"Friend my ass, you traitor."

"Still bitter, Jiraiya? You haven't changed at all."

God, he hated that bastard's snake-like smirk.

"Too bad I can say the same for you."

"So, old man," Jiraiya twitched at the dark haired boy as he smirked down at him over his nose, "Orochimaru-sensei told me you were getting an assistant of your own, finally. He must be the dead last of the class, to get stuck with y--"

Sasuke, however, never got to finish that sentence as his head was grabbed from behind and slammed onto the counter by a thoroughly pissed off blonde haired beauty.

---

It had taken Naruto a grand total of five minutes and sixteen seconds to beat the crap out of his would-be muggers. Apparently, muggers only knew Karate and other funky Japanese fighting shit in the movies.

Fuck for them.

Adjusting his orange coat collar, he smirked down at the pile of bodies and drawled, "You just got your asses handed to you by Uzumaki Naruto--remember it, bitches"

Never mess with a hot, bad-ass New York street punk.

After that enlightening episode, it had taken him an additional eight minutes and fifteen seconds (but, hey, whose counting?) to make it to the friggin hotel. Another five minutes trying to find someone who spoke English (and didn't ignore him, which he supposed most of them were doing), and get them to tell him where the old man was.

Of course, it only made his day shittier when he finally did find the old guy. At least the guy with the black hair was kind of hot--

"Orochimaru-sensei told me you were getting an assistant of your own, finally. He must be the dead last of the class, to get stuck with y--"

FUCK no. That bitch did NOT just call him a dead-last. That little fuck-ass was going DOWN.

And down he did go, with a bloody nose. Heh.

"Who you callin' dead-last, bastard?"

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Yeah… really short chapter… sorry. nn;; this was just the first one, the others will hopefully be longer… I just wanted to get the idea out of my head b4 it started festering or something…