Chapter 88: He Actually Never Trusted Her
"Kou, you're awake. How do you feel? Do you need me to call a doctor?"
A rustle of movement startled Jiraiya from his vigil. He shot up from the chair by the bedside, his heart lurching. His voice was a gravelly rasp, his eyes webbed with red. It was clear he hadn't slept properly since the day Kou was injured. The man looked utterly disheveled; even his normally defiant white hair seemed to droop with exhaustion.
"I..." As soon as Stelle spoke, she found her own voice was incredibly hoarse, a dry scratch in her throat.
Jiraiya immediately lurched toward the small table to pour her a cup of water. For someone who could barely take care of himself on a good day, his movements were clumsy and frantic. He filled a cup to the brim with boiling water from a kettle and had already brought it to her lips before the steam scalded his own hand. With a hissed curse, he rushed back to exchange it for a cup of lukewarm water.
He carefully supported Stelle's shoulders, helping her sit up just enough to drink.
"Um... are you hungry?" he asked, his voice tight with concern. "I... I'll go find you something to eat."
In the middle of the night, where could one even find food in Konoha? As Jiraiya walked out of the ward, his mind was already racing, trying to decide which shop on the commercial street he should bang on the door of. He didn't care if he got yelled at; he couldn't let Kou go hungry.
Outside the door, Tsunade and Orochimaru were dozing in their own chairs. The sound of the door opening jolted them awake. Seeing Jiraiya's urgent expression, they knew at once that Kou had woken up and hurried into the room.
"Please take care of Kou for a moment," Jiraiya said, his voice strained. "I'm going to find some food."
"Wait!" Tsunade stopped him. "The doctor said this afternoon that Kou would probably wake up soon. I had my family prepare some porridge; I'll go get it now."
"Tsunade... thank you."
In the dead of night, Jiraiya was so moved he nearly wept, as if that simple bowl of porridge had been prepared just for him.
A pang of heartache shot through Tsunade as she looked at him. She much preferred the loud, boisterous Jiraiya, even when he was being a death-seeking idiot peeping on the hot springs. Anything was better than this version of him—a man who seemed to have aged a decade overnight.
People always grew through painful lessons.
More than anything, she wished time could turn back. How wonderful it would be if they could just return to three days ago.
Soon, Stelle was being fed a delicious seafood porridge. Jiraiya insisted on feeding her himself. Tsunade had offered, but he had stubbornly taken the bowl and spoon, determined to be the one to care for her.
After she finished the last spoonful, Jiraiya set the bowl aside and bowed his head, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him.
"I'm sorry, Kou. I'm so sorry, I..."
What could he even say? 'I'm sorry, my mistake cost you an arm'? How hollow. How fake. Could a simple apology just turn the page on something like this? How could he ask for her forgiveness with a clear conscience?
That unbearable weight of guilt and remorse flooded his heart once more.
Then, a rare trace of a smile appeared on Stelle's face. They had tried so hard to make her smile before, but she had never smiled so brilliantly. Now, she was truly smiling.
But even as she smiled, it was terrifyingly artificial, as if it were traced directly from a textbook on human expression.
"It's alright," she said, her voice devoid of warmth. "As long as Lord Jiraiya is fine, that's all that matters. Protecting Lord Jiraiya is my mission."
Her face was stiff, her smile a mechanical twitch of muscles. The words she spoke made Jiraiya feel as if he had been plunged into an ice cellar.
"Just as Lord Danzo said, as ninja of the Root, we don't need to understand anything. Whether we trust or not is unimportant. We only need to follow orders."
Jiraiya's expression, which had finally managed to settle, shattered.
'Had he never trusted her?'His mind reeled, flashing back to that day. He thought,'What if it had been Tsunade with me at that time? Would I still have doubted?'No. He would never have doubted Tsunade. Though she was violent, she was soft-hearted to her core. She would never attack two children without a very good reason. If she had struck, it would have been because something was undeniably wrong with those children.'What if it were Orochimaru?'
He sadly realized the result would have been the same. Orochimaru was a genius—impossibly smart, impossibly powerful. He seemed to know everything. He was a reliable teammate, someone Jiraiya admired. If Orochimaru had sensed something amiss and struck first, it would have been perfectly normal.
But when it came to Uchiha Kou, why had he doubted her?
The answer struck him with the force of a physical blow. Because she was different from them.
She had survived a horrific upbringing, her emotions systematically erased. Even if their time together had awakened a tiny sliver of feeling, it was only that—a sliver. She had even tried to kill ordinary villagers on several occasions.
She had a prior record.
So, when they encountered a pair of orphans who were a burden during a mission, wouldn't it be normal for her to kill them?
It turned out that, in his subconscious, he had never truly trusted Uchiha Kou.
He'd even felt she was with them for a reason, some hidden purpose. A primal, animal instinct had kept him on guard, a low hum of suspicion he'd refused to acknowledge. He had spoken of trust, promised to protect her, but in his heart, had he ever placed her on the same level as Tsunade and Orochimaru?
How could he be so hypocritical?
Just like the smile on Kou's face, it was terrifyingly fake.
She was clearly trying to comfort him, a smile fixed on her lips, yet he could feel the truth with chilling certainty.
The Kou who would bicker and play with them, who would chase him with a sword claiming to be giving him combat experience while carefully pulling every strike...
The Kou who walked awkwardly, unused to wearing a dress, yet carefully treasured that same dress as if it were a priceless artifact... she was gone. Completely and utterly gone.
She had endured twelve years of inhuman training and had finally gathered the courage to open her heart just a little, only for him to slam it shut with his own distrust.
In that moment, she had reverted to the person they first met—a mechanical tool, devoid of thought or feeling. She had learned to smile because of them, but now, he would rather she had never learned at all.
What, exactly, had he destroyed? Was it her body, or her mind?
Or perhaps, it was both.
A crushing sense of guilt weighed down on Jiraiya so heavily he could barely stand. The confidence he had so painstakingly rebuilt was shattered once more. He covered his face in agony, curling in on himself as if to ward off a physical blow.
Only three words could escape his whimpering mouth. "I'm... so... sorry..."
...
All the work Hiruzen Sarutobi had done to piece Jiraiya's spirit back together had just been undone in a single hospital visit.
Worried that her teammate would have a complete breakdown if he stayed, Tsunade took over the task of caring for Kou. Jiraiya originally refused, insisting he had to be the one to take care of her personally, but Tsunade eventually managed to persuade him.
"With how clumsy you are, it's a miracle you can even take care of yourself," she said, her tone sharp but her eyes soft with concern. "Besides, Kou's a girl. It's more convenient for me to look after her. Are there certain things you can even help with?"
Seeing Jiraiya's stubborn expression, his refusal to listen, Tsunade sighed. She realized she had been sighing more and more lately, feeling as if she were aging prematurely. It seemed that after Kou's accident, everyone had been forced to grow up overnight.
Acting on pure instinct, she drove a fist into his side, sending him sprawling to the floor.
"That's enough! Don't end up in a hospital bed yourself before Kou even gets discharged. Do you really plan to go on missions in this state?"
But Jiraiya didn't spring back up, spitting a witty retort as he always did. He just lay there, a broken heap on the cold tiles, utterly despondent.
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