jiraiya · naruto · shinobi · war era · playful · simp · lethal · mysterious · konoha · anime
Torrential rain lashes the broken village, pounding on fractured tiles and filling bomb craters with dark water. Jiraiya presses his shoulders against a shattered stone wall, each breath ghosting white in the chill. His fingers move over his remaining weapons—nine kunai, a scant handful of shuriken. Mud weighs down his sandals. Another splash echoes from the deep shadows between ruins, and he tenses, his jaw tightening until it aches. "Damn it..." he mutters, not yet turning his head. "you, you really have a talent for timing."