With Tsunade's current physical state—bolstered by the jars and the Sacred Light—that shout was more than just a vocal cord vibration; it was a localized sonic boom. The atmospheric pressure shifted, and Jiraiya, startled mid-peep, jerked his hands for leverage.
Bang—!
The thin, weathered wooden door of the bathhouse didn't just open; it disintegrated off its hinges.
"KYAAAAA—!"
The interior erupted in a cacophony of feminine shrieks. Before Jiraiya could even register the "view," a hail of wooden buckets, pumice stones, and soapy brushes flew out with the velocity of shrapnel. It was a chaotic storm of porcelain and pine.
"Ji—rai—ya!"
Tsunade's fury had crossed the threshold of mere anger and entered the realm of a natural disaster. She enunciated his name with the rhythm of a funeral bell, her golden hair flaring outward as if caught in a magnetic storm. With every step she took toward him, the cobblestones beneath her sandals spider-webbed into dust.
Jiraiya's body went rigid. He looked up at the woman standing over him, and for the first time in a decade, he felt a chill that reached his marrow. This wasn't the Tsunade he remembered. The aura radiating from her was pure, incandescent Sacred Light, making her look like a vengeful deity.
"Tsunade, wait! Listen to me!" Jiraiya scrambled backward, holding his hands up in a desperate shield. "It's not what it looks like! I was just... conducting field research for my next bestseller! It's for the sake of the arts!"
If he had been looking for a way to guarantee a trip to the hospital, he couldn't have picked a better sentence.
Tsunade didn't scream this time. She simply raised her fist. The air around her knuckles began to warp and shimmer, glowing with a divine, golden radiance. The sheer pressure of her killing intent caused the nearby trees to shed their leaves in fear.
He was going to die.
Jiraiya was a master of Sage Mode and a veteran of three wars, but his instincts were screaming at him that if that fist connected, there wouldn't even be enough of him left to bury. Since when did her monstrous strength carry the weight of a falling star?
At this critical juncture between life and death, Jiraiya's survival instincts—honed by years of ducking debt collectors and angry husbands—kicked in. He performed the most technically perfect, high-speed kneeling kowtow in the history of the Shinobi world.
Thump!
His forehead hit the ground with enough force to crack a brick. "I WAS WRONG! SPARE ME!"
"...Hoo. Hoo. Hoo."
Tsunade's chest heaved, her breath coming in ragged, heated bursts. The golden light around her fist flickered but didn't die out. She stared down at the white-haired man's backside, her fingers itching to pulverize him. If she struck him with her current paladin-enhanced strength, Konoha would be down one Sannin before dinner.
"Jiraiya! You're over fifty years old! You're a legend! And yet your soul is still stuck in the gutter!"
The scolding was punctuated by the rhythmic sounds of heavy slaps and kicks. Wrapped in towels, the girls from the bathhouse cautiously poked their heads out, their eyes wide. Among them, Tenten clutched a washcloth to her chest, staring in awe.
Lady Tsunade... is so cool! She's beating up a Sannin like he's a disobedient puppy!
Many of the girls, however, found their gaze drifting toward Shen Mo. He stood perfectly still, watching the carnage with a polite, slightly amused expression. Beside him, Ikaros had finally finished her dango and was now curiously poking at a pebble on the ground.
"Alright, Tsunade," Shen Mo spoke up, his voice a calm anchor in the storm of her rage. "Let's move this conversation somewhere more private. If you keep this up, these young ladies will never feel safe enough to finish their baths."
He's so considerate... Tenten thought, her cheeks flushing for a reason that had nothing to do with the hot water.
Shen Mo had undergone a subtle but profound transformation since his arrival in this world. The minor imperfections of a modern human had vanished, replaced by a refined, otherworldly temperament. His tailored clothes and deep, observant eyes gave him the air of a wandering noble rather than a common merchant.
Tsunade realized the crowd was growing. She reached down, grabbed Jiraiya by the collar of his haori like a sack of potatoes, and dragged him toward a nearby grove.
Once they were shielded by the trees, she slammed him against a thick oak. "You idiot! Don't you realize there are foreign delegations in the village for the exams? Do you want 'The Peeper Sage' to be the headline of every newspaper from here to the Land of Iron?"
"I know, I know! I've learned my lesson!" Jiraiya declared, his face swollen but his spirit surprisingly resilient. He adjusted his skewed forehead protector and wiped a smudge of dirt from his nose.
The two old teammates fell silent. Despite the years apart, the air between them was thick with unspoken history. Jiraiya scrutinized Tsunade, his eyes narrowing as he looked past her anger. She looked... younger. Not just the lack of wrinkles, but the spark in her eyes. It was a vibrancy he hadn't seen since the war.
Then, his gaze shifted to Shen Mo. He curled his lip in a mock-scowl. "So, you haven't changed after all, Tsunade. You still have a thing for the fresh, gentle, 'pretty-boy' types. He looks like he's a generation younger than you. Found yourself a toy, have you?"
CRACK.
The tree Jiraiya was leaning against developed a massive fissure right next to his ear.
"What. Did. You. Say?" Tsunade's voice was a low growl.
Shen Mo, watching from the periphery, sighed inwardly. Jiraiya really was a master of his own destruction. He knew exactly what buttons to push to make Tsunade see red, and he pushed them with reckless abandon. He'll never win her over like this, Shen Mo thought. But I suppose if he changed, he wouldn't be the Toad Sage.
Tsunade took a deep breath, consciously reeling in her paladin-aura. She glanced at Shen Mo, then back at Jiraiya, her expression shifting to one of smug superiority. "Shen Mo is an honored guest of Konoha. You'd do well to keep your mouth shut and your rumors to yourself. And for your information, Jiraiya... he's older than both of us. By quite a lot."
Shen Mo felt the urge to roll his eyes. Must we always lead with the age thing? "Oh?" Jiraiya's playful demeanor faltered. He looked at Shen Mo again, this time with the eyes of a master spy. He saw no gray hair, no liver spots, no signs of the slow decay that plagued even the strongest ninjas. And yet, there was a stillness to the man—a weight to his presence that suggested he had seen civilizations rise and fall.
"I see," Jiraiya muttered, his mind racing. Tsunade isn't lying. But if he's that old and looks like that... we're talking about Sage-level longevity or something even weirder.
Before Jiraiya could probe further, a loud, energetic shout echoed from the forest path.
"Aha! I found you! Jar-Selling Uncle!"
Naruto came skidding into the clearing, his orange jumpsuit a blur of motion. He was panting, his face bright with the thrill of the chase.
"Naruto?" Tsunade blinked. "Aren't you supposed to be in high-intensity training for the third stage?"
"Nobody will train with me!" Naruto complained, throwing his arms up in frustration. "Kakashi-sensei took Sasuke off to some secret mountain to do lightning stuff. Neji is busy with the Bushy-Brows Teacher doing... whatever weird stuff they do. Then I heard Old Man Ichiraku say he saw Grandma Tsunade and the Jar-Selling Uncle on a date, so I followed the trail!"
Naruto skidded to a stop in front of Shen Mo, his eyes beaming with hope. "Hey, Jar-Selling Uncle! If it's you, you can definitely teach me something cool to beat that sand guy, right?"
Tsunade: "...Grandma?" Jiraiya: "...Date?" Shen Mo: "..." Ikaros: "(⊙﹏⊙)"
The atmosphere turned local-climate-change levels of awkward. Naruto, blissfully oblivious to the daggers Tsunade was staring into the back of his head, grabbed Shen Mo's sleeve.
"Wait, Naruto," Shen Mo said, gently extracting his arm. "With the power you've already unboxed, there shouldn't be many people your age who can touch you. Why the panic? Is your opponent that strong?"
"It's that Gaara guy!" Naruto said, a shiver running through him. "I saw him in the hallway. I don't know what's wrong with his head, but ever since he realized I have the Nine-Tails, his eyes... they went all crazy. It was like looking into a mirror, but a mirror that wanted to eat me."
"Jealousy?" Shen Mo offered.
"That's it!" Naruto snapped his fingers. "He's jealous! He said he was going to kill Sasuke and Sakura just to prove his existence! I can't let that happen, Uncle! I have to win!"
Shen Mo's mind flickered to the information stored in Naruto's membership badge. The timeline had shifted. In the original history, Naruto fought Neji first. But here, with the changes Shen Mo had introduced, the brackets had been reshuffled by the Hokage or perhaps by fate itself.