Jiraiya stood at the threshold of the run-down home, with his arms crossed, towering over the boy who now seemed far less teasing than usual. Lumian, who often wore a mask of mischievous charm, looked genuinely stunned, as if he'd been caught mid-act.
"...."
Silence filled the space with a long quietness: uncomfortable and heavy. Lumian's mouth opened slightly, then closed again. No words came out.
"Well?" Jiraiya's voice was dry, unimpressed. "At a loss for words, are you... you little thief."
Inside, Lumian cursed himself a dozen different ways.
"Damn it. Did he follow me back here? No... I was careful. I doubled back three times, even took the rooftops. There's no way-"
He paused.
"Unless... one of my clones slipped up. Idiots...."
He let out a quiet sigh, more to compose himself than anything.
"Yeah.... definitely a clone. Sloppy bastard."
Jiraiya, growing tired of the silence, leaned against the frame and knelt to meet Lumian eye to eye.
"Enough playing dumb. Hand it over. My wallet."
Lumian blinked, then let a smile curl on his lips. He tilted his head innocently.
"Of course... But first, would you care for a cup of tea?"
Jiraiya stared at him like he'd just suggested they go stargazing together.
"What kind of nonsense—? I said give me the damn wallet!"
"You're refusing a host's hospitality? How heartless." Lumian gave a wounded look, his bottom lip sticking out just slightly.
Jiraiya's eye twitched. "W-What?"
Lumian's grin widened. "Please, come in. Make yourself uncomfortable."
"..."
With a weary sigh, Jiraiya stepped inside. Not because he was humoring the kid; but because part of him wanted to know just what game he was playing.
The house was in no condition to receive guests. The couch looked like it had gone twelve rounds with a bear and lost. Its stuffing poked out through tears, and the frame tilted just enough to be barely usable. The smell of fungus mixed with something faintly rotten lingered in the air, and grime blackened the corners of the ceiling. Dishes sat in the sink, crusted with something that had once been food. Jiraiya wrinkled his nose and muttered, "This place should be condemned..."
Meanwhile, Lumian busied himself at a stained, rickety kitchenette. He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out two paper cups with a proud little flourish, then unscrewed the cap of a beat-up plastic bottle. Liquid trickled into each cup with a soft, gurgling sound.
Jiraiya reluctantly took a seat across from him, ignoring the way the chair groaned under his weight. He eyed the paper cup suspiciously.
"You're not seriously offering me substances, are you? Is this some kind of poison trick? You figure you can't beat me in a fight, so you'll drug me instead?"
Lumian gasped theatrically, clutching his chest. "How dare you! I am a humble, generous host. Poison? Against a guest in my own home? Unthinkable."
He took a sip from his cup and let out a satisfied "Ahhh," setting it down with exaggerated care.
Jiraiya raised an eyebrow, then took the cup and sipped; only to immediately cough and gag, pounding his chest.
"COUGH COUGH—What the hell? This is just... water?!"
"You seem surprised."
"You said tea!"
Lumian gave a pitiful sigh and looked down at the table. "I'm broke, alright? I can't afford tea these days. Life is cruel. I... I'm sorry."
A single tear slipped down his cheek, almost convincingly.
Jiraiya slammed a palm on the table. "Oh, please! I literally saw you robbing five shinobi in an alley hours ago. You knocked two of the pour bastards unconscious by punching them in the face! Don't play the starving orphan with me, brat."
Lumian's mask cracked into a grin as he leaned back in his chair. "Fine, fine. You caught me. Honestly, I just don't like tea. It tastes weird."
The sage exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face. "Alright, tea party's over. I've enjoyed your... hospitality. Now, give me back my wallet."
Lumian laced his fingers together and placed them gently on the table.
"Of course. But before that; I'd like to begin... formal negotiations."
Jiraiya blinked. "Negotiations?"
The boy's eyes locked with his, sharp and unwavering now.
"Jiraiya of the Sannin. I invited you into my home... to bargain."
. . . .
. . . .
Jiraiya blinked slowly, staring at the boy across the table. "Bargain?"
"Yes," Lumian said, his tone formal, yet filled with smug satisfaction. He gestured with an open palm toward the Sannin.
"You will provide me with... necessary contraband; or, let's say, items of value; in exchange for your wallet."
"...??!!"
Jiraiya's eyebrow twitched.
"This little... audacious... brat..."
For a moment, he seriously considered flipping the table and launching Lumian straight to the Land of Iron.
"Trade?! For my own property?! Are you out of your damn mind?!"
Lumian yawned, loudly, right in front of the fuming sage. "Come now, old man. I'm being very reasonable. This is diplomacy. A sincere act, really; born from the tangled tapestry of my ever-generous soul. And here you are, disrespecting tradition."
Jiraiya's mouth opened... then closed again. He looked like a man physically restraining himself from punching a child.
Lumian leaned forward, hands clasped together, eyes gleaming with mischief. "After all... I'm holding your wallet hostage. And surely, surely, you wouldn't want anything... unfortunate to happen to it, would you?"
"You wouldn't."
"Oh, I would." Lumian leaned back, folding his arms behind his head with theatrical flair.
"I'd even say I currently hold all the cards, wouldn't you? You don't know where the wallet is. And no- " he raised a finger before Jiraiya could speak, "- It's not in this house. Feel free to search, though. The mold might even give you a hint."
Jiraiya squinted. "Then where is it?"
Lumian smirked. "Somewhere in the Hidden Leaf. That's all I'll say. Maybe it's in the Hokage's office. Maybe it's under Ichiraku's counter. Or maybe... maybe it's in the women's bathhouse. You'll never know."
The Sannin was speechless. He invites me in, gives me tap water, and now wants to negotiate for my own wallet?!
He exhaled sharply through his nose. "So that's the game you're playing. Fine. I'll show you why messing with a Sannin is a very bad idea."
. . . .
A wide grin spread across Jiraiya's face. "Tell me, then. What's stopping me from leaving and reporting you for theft? You really think you can escape judgment?"
Lumian didn't flinch. "By the time you reach the Hokage's tower, I'll have spread a very detailed rumor... that the Gallant Jiraiya is secretly a peeping pervert who sneaks into bathhouses to watch children."
Jiraiya's expression froze. "…You wouldn't."
"I absolutely would."
His voice was calm. Deadpan. The threat felt too plausible.
The Sannin narrowed his eyes. "Then I'll tie you up right here and drag you there myself."
"Oh?" Lumian tilted his head. "Even if you do, your wallet would remain missing. I could've already sold the information to someone. Maybe I planted it with an ANBU's kid? Maybe it's in the Hokage's ramen order?"
Jiraiya growled, trying not to show how much this was getting under his skin. "What if I just stop caring? It's just a wallet."
"No, no; it's your wallet. With your notes. Your hotel keys. Your limited edition bathhouse loyalty card."
"…Tch."
Lumian's grin widened. "Ah, see? You do care."
The two glared at each other, the air between them thick with unspoken threats and sarcasm.
"Who do you think will believe you, even if you spread such rumors?" Jiraiya countered. "I'm a Sannin. My reputation isn't so easily dragged through the dirt by some street punk."
"That's true," Lumian admitted. "Unless, of course... there are witnesses. You know, people who might say they saw someone matching your description at the women's baths. Again."
Jiraiya flinched. "You're bluffing."
"Maybe. But what if I'm not?"
The room fell into silence again.
Jiraiya leaned forward, folding his arms. "I could just hire the Inuzuka to sniff it out. They'd find your scent trail."
Lumian's smile didn't waver. "Oh, you mean the same Inuzuka women who caught you spying on their team years ago?"
"...How do you know that?"
"Lucky guess."
More silence.
Jiraiya slapped his palm on the table. "Fine! I'm a Sannin, you know! I have an ultra-top-secret jutsu that can locate my wallet anywhere in the world! I just need a target with a chakra imprint nearby to initiate it."
Lumian blinked. "Really? That sounds fake."
"I swear it's real."
"Right. And your wallet," Lumian said calmly, "is rigged to explode if I don't disarm the seal every hour."
Jiraiya stared.
"…Now you're just spouting nonsense."
Lumian grinned, resting his chin on his palm.
"Am I?"
. . . .
. . . .
Jiraiya groaned and finally let his forehead drop onto the creaky table with a dull thud, the sound echoing through the decrepit little room.
"Alright, brat," he muttered in resignation. "You win. Just... tell me your damn terms and conditions."
Lumian's eyes lit up. He clapped his hands together like a child who had just convinced a parent to buy candy.
"Well done, Jiraiya the Gallant. You're smarter than you look."
A thick tick mark pulsed on Jiraiya's temple.
"Don't push it," he growled, lifting his head just enough to glare at the boy. "I will knock you unconscious. Not even for the wallet; just for fun."
Lumian raised both hands in mock surrender. "Fair enough, fair enough. Let's begin."
He lifted one finger.
"First: I'll return your wallet, untouched... well, mostly untouched. But! You must promise not to report or question me about any other... items... I've "acquired." I only steal from scumbags and reckless fools, not honest civilians. A kind of public service, really."
Jiraiya exhaled sharply through his nose. "Hmph. Unlikely, but whatever. Go on."
Lumian raised a second finger.
"Second: I want you to hand over jutsu scrolls."
Jiraiya narrowed his eyes. "What kind of jutsu? If you say something stupid like 'S-rank or Forbidden jutsus' I'm walking out."
"Relax," Lumian said. "I'm not suicidal. I want Genjutsu. B-rank and above."
Jiraiya blinked. "Genjutsu?"
"Specifically B- to A-rank. I've already gone through the academy-level to elite Genin-level illusions. They're getting too bland."
The Sannin scratched his cheek. "I can provide B-rank. But A-rank is another story. You'd need authorization through a Jonin sponsor; or someone with direct permission from the Hokage. Even I can't legally hand that over if it not my own jutsu."
Then he tilted his head. "But why Genjutsu? Most kids your age want to blow things up. Fireballs, mud dragons, big explosions. You know—stuff that makes people go 'Wow.'"
Lumian gave an unimpressed shrug. "Don't lump me in with idiots who compensate with flash. I prefer subtlety. Efficiency. And... Genjutsu is my specialty; and my style."
That caught Jiraiya's attention. He studied the boy more closely.
"Huh... no Kurama features. Doesn't seem like one of theirs. But his chakra... now that I'm paying attention, there is something a little off....."
"Interesting," Jiraiya muttered. "Alright, go on. What else?"
Lumian held up a third finger.
"Third: I want you to speak to the Hokage on my behalf. Recommend me for early graduation. Starting at the end of this term."
Jiraiya leaned back in his rickety chair and let out a long breath, staring up at the moldy ceiling.
"That one's easy enough. Hiruzen respects my judgment. Seeing your talents, that should be simple."
He reached his hand across the table, palm open.
"Well then. Deal?"
Lumian grinned, shifting tone in an instant. He popped up on his toes, leaning over the table. His short arms just barely managed to brush Jiraiya's calloused fingers.
Their hands clasped: one large and worn from years of battle, the other small, twitching with youthful energy and glee.
A handshake sealed in mutual understanding.
One in gleeful triumph.
The other in reluctant surrender.
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(Author's note:
Sup guys? How you doing?
Once again, not much too say....
I've just been watching a lot of different stuff and some of it is interesting enough to write fanfictions about. I've checked this site and other, but noone's really written about it much!
But that's probably in the future. I've got my hands full right now.
Anyways, leave a comment and a review! Thanks for Sebastion_Kinz for your very knowledgeable and wise review.
Thank you....
and POWER STONES!!!!!)