Jiraiya was naturally a cheerful and easygoing man. After the earlier incident, no one pushed him any further, so his sulking didn't last long. Before long, he was back to his usual boisterous self.
Perhaps to change the subject and divert everyone's attention, he gathered Hoshiyomi, Sakumo, and the others together just as the dinner was winding down. Even Minato and Nawaki weren't left out. Looking around at the little group of men he had assembled, Jiraiya gave a satisfied nod.
"I brought two gifts for you all this time," he announced mysteriously.
As he spoke, Jiraiya pulled several books from inside his robe.
"These are works I'd been writing ever since the Second Great Ninja War, and they were finally completed a couple of years ago. These are first editions, so I'm giving them to you all as keepsakes."
Hoshiyomi took one of the not-so-thin volumes. On the cover, written in bold, sweeping strokes, were the words:
"The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi."
Seeing the title, Hoshiyomi couldn't help feeling a wave of nostalgia. Though this book never became as famous as Jiraiya's later Make-Out Paradise, within the shinobi world it carried great significance.
Whether it was Pain, Minato, or even Naruto, all of them had been influenced in some way by this book. Naruto's very name came from its protagonist.
As expected, Minato was the most captivated. After reading a few pages, he was already deeply absorbed, his eyes sparkling.
"Jiraiya-senpai, this is truly a great work. I haven't read much yet, but I can already tell—Naruto in here is incredible. This is exactly how a ninja should be!" he said with genuine admiration.
Compared to Minato's enthusiasm, Nawaki was far less impressed. He wasn't much of a reader to begin with—after flipping through a few pages, he was already thinking of saving it for later.
"Jiraiya-senpai, didn't you say you had another gift? What's the other one?" he asked impatiently.
At that, Jiraiya gave a mischievous chuckle. He reached inside his robe again and carefully pulled out a stack of handwritten drafts, passing them out page by page.
"Take a look at these, heh-heh. While I was training at Mount Myōboku, I got bored and started jotting down some notes. After writing a while, I realized—this stuff has real market potential. If I polish it into a proper book, it might even outsell The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi. Honestly, I think it could become an even bigger hit!"
Nawaki rolled his eyes as he accepted a page of the manuscript. He was about to dismiss it with a "that's it?" when something caught his attention—there was a hand-drawn illustration on the sheet.
The drawing wasn't masterful, but the content… was vivid. Almost too vivid. Nawaki's eyes locked onto it, unable to look away.
The blushing girl in the picture made his throat tighten. His eyes flicked down to the accompanying text—and then he was hooked, even more immersed than Minato had been in the first book.
By the time he finished, his eyes were practically glowing. He swallowed hard.
"J-Jiraiya-nii… do you… do you have more?" he stammered.
Without waiting for an answer, he snatched another page from Orochimaru's hands, who had shown no interest in it whatsoever.
"Orochimaru-senpai, if you don't care for it, then let me have it!"
Seeing Nawaki so engrossed, Kushina and Sakumo couldn't resist leaning over to sneak a peek. Then Minato, then finally Hoshiyomi himself.
When Hoshiyomi glanced at the page, filled with shockingly vivid descriptions, he couldn't help but think to himself—
Now this… this is the work of a true professional.
As someone who had once eagerly devoured "Shonen A—x" and "Young Sk—x Clean", Hoshiyomi felt an immediate sense of recognition as he flipped through Jiraiya's manuscript. Yes, yes, this hits the spot! The tight pacing, the rising climaxes—it had been far too long since he'd seen something like this.
He could swear on his life—this was without a doubt the prototype of "Make-Out Paradise." No wonder Kakashi would later get so hooked on it, reading himself half to death.
When it comes to writing this kind of stuff, Jiraiya really is a genius.
So there they were—a group of grown men, plus two teenagers—huddled in a circle, carefully savoring this rough, still-in-its-infancy masterpiece. One by one, they broke into smiles only men could understand.
Hoshiyomi nudged Jiraiya.
"So… what's this book going to be called? Have you decided? And how long do you plan to write it?"
Nawaki, eyes shining, quickly chimed in:
"If this gets published, I swear I'll be the first one to buy it. And I guarantee—it'll be a hit!"
Hearing his brothers' praise, Jiraiya finally shook off the lingering shadow of his earlier humiliation. Feeling smug, he struck a pompous "literary master" pose, his expression dripping with pretentiousness:
"This is only a draft, just some immature sparks of inspiration. But I intend to polish it carefully, down to the finest detail. For this work, I am willing to devote ten years of my life—traveling across the shinobi world, experiencing its people, its customs, its soul.
Alas, that is the burden of me, Jiraiya the Literary Master—ever a man willing to sacrifice himself for art. To make this a true classic that will be remembered for generations, I must gather real material from every corner of the shinobi world.
In fact, I've already chosen a name for it:
'Make-Out Paradise.'"
Nawaki's eyes practically gleamed green with envy. He leaned forward eagerly:
"Jiraiya-nii, do you… maybe need an assistant? I think I'd be perfect for the job."
But just as he finished, several pointed coughs rang out from behind them.
Every man present froze.
And then came the voices—familiar, icy, and all too dangerous:
"Is it really that good?"
It was Kushina. It was Tsunade. It was Nawaki's girlfriend. It was even Kurenai's mother, Sakumo's wife. All of them, in perfect harmony.
A collective shiver ran down the men's spines. In unison, they hid the manuscripts behind their backs and, as if rehearsed, replied in chorus:
"It's nothing compared to you."
Moments later, each of them was dragged away by his respective partner, ears firmly in hand.
Sometimes, a man's survival instinct works with flawless synchronization.
Off to the side, Orochimaru watched with an amused smirk. Jiraiya quickly stuffed the manuscripts away, muttering under his breath:
"Good thing I don't have a girlfriend. Love really is a cage—guess that saying was right."
But before he could get too smug, Tsunade suddenly spun around. She'd been clinging to Hoshiyomi a moment ago, but now her fist came crashing straight down on Jiraiya.
"Don't think we forgot who the real culprit is here!"
And she wasn't done.
"I don't care how you 'gather material.' Do it wherever you want—but if I ever catch you laying a finger on any of the women in this village…"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Hmph. You'd better have a coffin ready, because I'll be the one to bury you."
And so, the grand "Make-Out Paradise Project"…
was officially postponed.