This plot bunny has been nipping at my heels for a while now. I got accidentally spoiled to this ending so I cried and cried! I loved how silly and funny Pervy Sage was. And still is. I still can't believe Kishi would REALLY kill him off…. Tsunade and Jiraiya both deserve better. Even if they both have commitment issues. This is my first story about Jiraiya and Tsunade. Actually my first Naruto fic ever. So please PLEASE be kind! I do my very best with everything I write. So for my sake, please be gentle with your criticism. Even if you hate it. Well, enough yakking. Enjoy!


Oh P.S-I DO NOT OWN NARUTO. Otherwise Jiraiya would not have died.

Jiraiya opened his eyes fuzzily. The last thing he remembered had been an ocean . . . and falling in . . . . and the pain. Pain the Akatsuki leader and the normal sense of the word. As in OW. And it still hurt. Why and how would death hurt THIS much? He had to be alive to register this much... well...pain. But . . . unless his blonde Hime had found him and fixed his wounds (which he highly doubted, she was too drunk when he left to chase after him for one thing and for another she wasn't crazy like a certain Toad Sage AND she knew the village needed her). . . How was he alive?


A little girl's high pitched voice assaulted his ears. Jiraiya groaned, wincing as the groan scraped his raw and tortured throat. Why did the little nuisance have to scream when he had a headache worse than when Tsunade drank him under the table and they both ended up passed out drunk in the bar? The memory of her face stabbed him like a needle. He winced. He certainly didn't need any more pain. The one thought that perked him up slightly was that he would be able to keep his promise to his Princess. As long as Jiraiya was alive, he would come back to her. He hoped.

"Shush Nara-chan! I'm sorry she started yelling like that. Please try to open your eyes Jiraiya-sama. We have been waiting a while for you to wake up," a soothing female voice said.

Jiraiya obediently attempted to crack an eye open. He was wincing immediately. When his vision recovered he found himself in a small if neat and clean medical room. When he attempted to sit up the slender womanly hands gently pushed him back down (It was a mark of how weak he still felt that he didn't struggle to rise any further). His eyes took in the warm cream color of the walls and the long rose red hair of a motherly looking redhead sitting on a chair nearby with a somewhat sulky child of seven or so with the same long red hair only darker, more the shade of old blood. Don't think of blood dammit, he thought, realizing the idea made him sick to his stomach. The slender child's eyes gleamed an inquisitive blue green and the mother's pair shone a calm leaf green. The woman had a matronly figure and for some reason he got the idea that if he tried any of his usual tricks he attempted around most women she would sweetly, gently rebuff them. He could never try something with an unwilling woman. Except maybe his Hime(while drunk of course). Although he'd end up with A LOT of trouble (and injuries) for it.

The mother spoke again, "It's good to see you with your eyes open Jiraiya-sama. Mother has been waiting with eagerness to see if her desperate gambit paid off."

"Oba-sama has wanted to see if you're okay. See she knows youMMmmmph-," the child was cut off by her mother's hand to her mouth.

Jiraiya chuckled weakly (it came out raspier than he wanted it to) at the child's antics. Little Nara reminded him painfully of his deceased student, Minato Namikaze. Naruto's father… And he even missed that little knucklehead. He was Minato's son after all. Naruto was Jiraiya's former student's spitting image on the outside. On the inside, well, he was an equal mix of his mother, Kushina, and his father. Jiraiya had (and still did) considered Minato a son; Naruto being the grandson he never had. Or, rather, the god son he had trained. Jiraiya wondered how much time had passed-he guessed he had been out for a while. A week at most. Tsunade was going to be very pissed he was late but first the most pressing issue-

"Where am I?" Ouch. That had hurt his throat even more. Obviously someone had repaired it enough to where he could speak but DAMN did it hurt to do so.

"On an island. You washed up here very weak but still alive thank Kami. Mother found you and healed you to the point you could be moved to this very room. We all have waited to see if you would recover. Admittedly I was doubtful but Mother was so hopeful. . . She's looking to repay a debt to you, you see. When I was but a baby and she was a mother widowed by the war of her time, you gave her a very generous sum that allowed her to save ourselves from starving. And you went on to save my life. She thought she would never have a chance to repay you for your kindness. That is until a year ago today, when you washed up on our shore."

Jiraiya was stunned. He wasn't just late. He was REALLY late. As in fucking you're in TROUBLE late. A whole damn year... Even his Hime might have given up on him. . . . Best not to think about that, idiot, Jiraiya mentally scolded himself, using his Hime's pet name for him.

"Thank you. . ." OUCH. Note to self don't do that again.

The woman smiled, "My name is Angelica. From the herb. My mother's name is Anemone. You are to stay as long as you must to recover from your fight. Ah, here comes Mother."

An older woman came in. Her step was still lively and strong even as her wrinkled face and silver-specked rust red hair betrayed her age. Jiraiya had to wonder if the woman was older than him. . . Otherwise he really WAS getting too old. The woman-Anemone he supposed, although he didn't recall her name in his memory before Angelica told him- smiled when she saw his eyes open. Stroking her daughter's and then her granddaughter's hair calmly, she prowled over to sit in the only other seat, a stiff backed chair similar to the other one Nara and Angelica occupied. She sat down with the air of someone who had joint pain but refused to acknowledge or concede to it. The older woman's eyes were a deep and oddly fierce shade of forest green set in a fine featured, almost catlike face.

"Well then. . . The Gallant Jiraiya had quite a tussel with a monster. Nara, go check on my baking please. I have your favorite baking. Chocolate chip cookies."

First, Jiraiya's stomach revolted a little at the mention of food. He managed to keep the bile down, though. Then Jiraiya twitched in brief protest at having his old pupil called a monster; then remembered that that was exactly what his most tormented student had grown into. Nara dashed quickly off, shooting a somewhat longing and torn look back at Jiraiya. Angelica smiled benignly after her daughter, the love in her eyes making Jiraiya's heart ache unexpectedly. He had wanted to be able to love a child of his own like that at some point in his life. . . Another never realized dream. Just like his so called feelings for his Hime. The only woman he could've even thought of having children with (on purpose at least) was his Hime . . . . Although the very idea would get him clobbered to the moon and back, nowadays and back then, he thought ruefully.

"Angelica. . . Dear girl, shall you see that that scatterbrained granddaughter of mine doesn't burn herself? That's a good girl," Anemone said calmly.

With a somewhat worried expression Angelica did as her mother bid her, casting a somewhat confused look behind her as she trotted down the hallway. Jiraiya couldn't help but wonder what this fierce looking older woman had in mind for him. Her wrinkled face was set in a carefully neuteral expression, as if waiting for him to speak first.

He managed, "Why did you save me? HOW did you save me? Has it really been-" before being cut off by a harsh coughing fit.

Anemone placidly helped him through the coughing fit, surprisingly strong hands holding him so he didn't fall off the bed. It didn't seem to throw her off at all. When he finished she spoke, "All in good time, Gallant Jiraiya. You need to re-accustom yourself to speaking. You were in a coma for a year, after all. Your Lady lives on without you, although a changed woman for it. Rest and heal. Even with the yearlong rest your body still couldn't quite recuperate fast enough. Now. . . . . I suspect it is time to know how you got into the sad state I found you in. Take it slowly, please. For my sake and your own."

Placidly as ever, she sat and looked attentively at him. Startling green eyes found the dark normally cheery onyx ones, and an understanding passed between them. Jiraiya would not leave this bed until his story was told to the fullest extent. Jiraiya sighed.

Thus began his arduous retelling of recent events.

Oba-chan= Grandma

Okay this is my first time writing Jiraiya's POV. And, if you guys want, the next chappie will be in Tsunades POV. Im not sure about the job Im doing but telling me about it is part of your job as readers. Optional, but much appreciated. Virtual cookies and cake and whatever your favorite sweets are to whoever reviews.

I know it's kind of sort of a cliffie. I'm still practicing. So how did I do? You know where to go! Please review this chappie even if you think it's total crap. I hope you don't. Anyway hit that review button! Bye for now!