Space
Gelfling
There are silent sounds, which are different from other sounds. Many sounds are noise-sounds; big, blaring chittering things, that fog up the ears and lay on the brain like an egg on rock. The other sounds, the silent sounds, are sounds only heard in the silence; sounds to small, so very thin, that aren't really sounds at all--they are levels for measuring the silence.
The breeze washing over the tall grass is one, a gentle hollow tiny sound. Leaves bumping against one another in the high tree, several feet above ones head, makes a small, forlorn sound, a sound so lonely and timid it won't be heard in anything less than very quiet silence.
Jiraiya relaxed by careful, deliberately imposed degrees as he walked down the dirt path, his geta sandals scratching shocked orange lines over the tranquil quiet as he crossed the tiny ravines and mesas caused by last winter's rains, disturbing the sand.
Grass with seed husks like corn flanked him on either side, coming up to his thighs. Blue bottle flies buzzed like miniature chainsaws among the flowers, the common slightly-smelly slightly-ugly yellow ones. Willow leaves hung like a woman's hair near the path, never really in the way.
The path didn't lead anywhere; it blurred out on the drop of the canyon, reappearing and disappearing in the weeds and sandy dirt. It was possible to reach a larger, wider path through it that would lead to a road that would lead to a small outpost where they made excellent roast pork, but the tiny dirt path, less than a foot wide, didn't lead anywhere important.
The view wasn't magnificent either; not the kind of view lovers rendezvous under or dramatic encounters occurred--there was the gradual drop, clumps of grass, patches of weed, the slightly-smelly yellow flowers spreading pollen and allergies throughout, interspersed with small white clover flowers and dark purple weed flowers.
No one else realized what was possible here; only Jiraiya did. He took his jacket off as the sun warmed, then, feeling a bit adventurous and very secure, his over shirt, staying in his loose slacks and undershirt. His hair glinted in the sun. The silence greeted him like a wife greeting a too-long gone husband.
He was alone. Jiraiya relaxed.
It would be hours before Sarutobi-sensei got through searching for him in all the bath houses, bars, dirty book shops, liquor stores, restaurants, and whore houses. He'd be back before then. Their missions were placed too close together--they'd only returned from the last one that morning and already they had to leave again at lunch. He'd be back before nightfall, before Sarutobi-sensei started twitching at the eyes. He'd be back. Eventually. Before they sent the hunter-nins after him, he'd be back. Just...not right then.
He didn't sit down. This wasn't the type of place you sat in, like a church or home. You came, you listened, you watched, and then you left. Sitting would imply too much familiarity, too much possessiveness.
Jiraiya looked at the sky--really looked at the sky--in what felt like months. It was still too loud for him to hear his heart beating, for him to hear his own breathing, but it was getting quieter, deep inside his head, little by little.
The noise was going away--the dark noise, the sleek rush of metal, the wet splash of flesh and blood, the lightening-static of screams--was going away. Little by little, it was going away.
Time passed. His legs didn't even ache from standing, though he had to rub the sweat from the back of his neck; if he didn't like his hair so much, he'd cut it.
He didn't close his eyes. This place didn't put him to sleep. It did a lot of things, this unremarkable patch of space, silence, grass, and weeds, but it didn't put him to sleep.
He yawned, and turned around with a wry, relaxed smile.
"Thought I'd find you here," Tsunade remarked, arms crossed under her expansive chest. "Sarutobi-sensei isn't frothing at the mouth yet, but he was coming close before I left."
"Mmm?" Jiraiya asked with a loose, easy smile, walking along with her.
"He and Orochimaru were still going through the lady's bath-houses when I left. Go figure."
"Dunno why he bothers," Jiraiya murmured lazily, listening to the words and not the meaning. "He's gay, through and through. Show him a naked women and he doesn't even blush."
Tsunade rolled her eyes, but didn't stop the small smile that came. "That's why I'm able to stand both of you in the same room. He can chase after boys all he wants, as long as he stays away from my clothes."
"He'll be going after your make-up next."
"You're an idiot," Tsunade called him without any real rancor.
Jiraiya gave her a sidelong look. The next grin he gave was a good deal less innocent than the lazy one he'd been sporting. "How about you? How'd your, ah," Jiraiya cast about for the right words. "Welcome go?"
To his immense joy, she actually blushed. And she didn't hit him! Tsunade threw a reproachful, amused look at him, and only said, "Fine."
"He miss you?"
"You're a pervert, Jiraiya."
"What's your point? What'd he say? Did he get you anything?"
"I forgot, none of your business, and yes he did, but I'm not going to tell you what so don't ask."
Feeling like he'd won a small victory, Jiraiya grinned. "I knew it."
"And I knew I'd find you here," Tsunade countered, carefully stepping over a tiny patch of some type of weed in the path. "It's...nice."
Coming from Tsunade, that was high praise. "In a woodsy, backwater type of way," she added, to keep standards from slipping.
Jiraiya shrugged, feeling a little defensive and defiant.
"I like it."
Tsunade nodded, and didn't press further.
The breeze touched the grass again, making the hollow, swishy green sound of silence. Jiraiya reached out and grazed his fingers over the willow leaf curtain.
Jiraiya always associated Tsunade with power. Any type of power: physical, mental, emotional, political, financial...Tsunade had power. She could beat him up on a daily basis worse than anyone else he'd ever known; they had fights on occasion that hadn't just got the whole team thrown out of the inn, but out of the town as well. Tsunade was smart, loud, often overbearing, arrogant, and powerful--more powerful than he was. That didn't make her better than him, because he could be more flexible and practical and got along with people better, but he didn't have her power. At some level, she was a threat. He did trust her, she was his teammate, so he trusted her with his life to some degree, but not with too much else. They weren't friends.
And, strangely, he didn't feel exposed. She'd found him, and he didn't feel hunted. Maybe his instincts were on the blink, he was too relaxed, and that was why he didn't feel in trouble, or maybe it was because, underneath all that muscle and high-born arrogance, there was something in Tsunade that was soft, besides her breasts.
Jiraiya looked at the sky again, and this time it was like seeing an old friend.
"It doesn't make me feel tired. Or like going to sleep. It feels like I've woken up, when I come here."
Tsunade nodded, the silence comfortable. She didn't ask what he was waking up from; she knew without asking.
They walked out of the clearing, the dark overhangs of the forest looming in front of them.
"If I ever meet a woman who can make me feel like this," Jiraiya said quietly. "I'm going to marry her."
Tsunade gave him a surprised glance; Jiraiya never spoke of wanting a family, or a girlfriend--he kept on trying to sneak into the brothels despite all of Sarutobi-sensei's efforts, pleading that the women there were very clean and nice and polite and that he didn't want to die a virgin--it was too humiliating! Only losers died virgins--he needed to go in, just for an hour or so! Less than an hour even! They wouldn't even notice he was missing, he'd be that fast!
But he never mentioned wanting a family, or made an effort to find a girl his own age he could relate with, of finding a romantic interest. He drove them all mad looking for a sexual interest or outlet, even one for a few minutes, but not a romantic one, never a romantic one. He couldn't picture shouldering the responsibility, of kissing someone who knew his name. That was...disgusting. And not funny. Not funny at all. He was uncharacteristically chilly about it, reserved, and not even Sarutobi-sensei pressed him about it.
The way Jiraiya talked, sometimes, you'd think he expected to die any day. It was true that he could; that they all could, and all might, but Jiraiya seemed okay with it.
Tsunade smiled, and it was a shame Jiraiya didn't see it. She ducked her head, making sure he didn't.
"I feel sorry for her already," she said dryly.
"I'm going to give your boyfriend all your dirty books."
"I don't have any dirty books," Tsunade interjected.
"Doesn't mean I can't give him some," Jiraiya grinned, ready to duck at any second. "And say you read them at night thinking about him."
Tsunade, however, only sighed and shook her head.
He slipped his jacket on as they passed into the gloom, humming in his throat the last song he heard. Tsunade gave him another surprised look, and he still missed her smile before she started singing the words.
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