Naruto: Marrying Tsunade

Chapter 4 - I Swear I Wasn't Reading That Book

After getting an earful from the teacher, Aokiji returned to his seat, greeted by a mix of mockery and exasperation from his classmates.

"You've got some guts, huh? Sleeping in the hallway like that."

Aokiji yawned, entirely unfazed by their words, and casually reached into his backpack. A moment later, he pulled out a pillow and set it on his desk.

The student sitting next to him gawked.

"...What did you even come to school for?"

"To sleep," Aokiji answered bluntly, fluffing the pillow for maximum comfort.

"Oi, Rikuo, say something too!"

The boy named Rikuo, seated nearby with his chin resting on one hand, lifted his eyelids lazily at the mention of his name. He seemed to contemplate something for a brief moment before speaking at a measured pace.

"Lend me your pillow for a nap later."

"Get lost."

There was no way in hell Aokiji was letting someone else sleep on his pillow.

Rikuo, or rather Nara Rikuo, was one of the few people Aokiji had known since childhood. Given the Nara Clan's infamous love for napping, it was no surprise that they got along when it came to sleeping through class.

"This is such a hassle… Looks like I'll have to bring my own pillow from now on," Rikuo muttered, scratching his unruly, pineapple-shaped hair. "But if my mom finds out, I'll get an earful…"

Aokiji was already half-lying on his pillow. "Wake me up when class starts."

Rikuo studied him for a second before sighing in admiration. "Out of everyone I know, there's no one who sleeps more than you. I, Rikuo, acknowledge you as the strongest."

"Yeah, yeah… Thanks for the recognition," Aokiji mumbled sleepily, already halfway to dreamland.

Their conversation didn't go unnoticed.

A few seats away, a white-haired boy had been watching them with narrowed eyes, as if plotting something.

Before long, the class bell rang.

Aokiji groggily stuffed his pillow back into his bag. While he had no qualms about sleeping during class, openly using a pillow was just asking for trouble. There was a fine line between slacking off and outright provoking the teacher's wrath, and he wasn't about to cross it too blatantly.

The lesson passed in a half-conscious haze, and before he knew it, lunchtime had arrived.

The moment the bell rang, the other students eagerly took out their well-prepared bento boxes, filled with balanced meals their parents had lovingly packed for them.

Aokiji, on the other hand, had no such luxury.

As an orphan and a self-proclaimed lazy person, he had neither the time nor the energy to prepare elaborate meals. Instead, he stuck to a simple routine—grabbing whatever was available from the school store.

By the time he arrived, a long line had already formed.

The shop had a rotating menu of limited-time products, and today's special was red bean bread. It was selling like crazy. Aokiji had tried it once and thought it was meh at best.

Having lived in his past life in the great empire of foodies, he had developed a rather refined palate. Most of the food here was disappointingly bland in comparison.

Honestly, if his clan hadn't forced him to attend the academy, he might have seriously considered dropping out to open a restaurant instead.

After all, if he wanted access to high-end technology in the future, he would need money. And what better way to make a fortune than through business?

With his knowledge from his past life, he could revolutionize the food industry and rake in cash. He could hire a few trustworthy people, act as a hands-off boss, and use all his free time for training.

That had to be better than getting bossed around by Konoha's higher-ups and risking his life on missions.

And later, once he had made enough, he could flip the script.

Instead of working for the village, he could sponsor Konoha's ninja and have them work for him.

Just imagining it sent shivers down his spine.

A small chuckle escaped him before he could stop it, drawing strange looks from the students nearby.

"Ahem…"

He cleared his throat, masking his amusement. Stay low-key, stay low-key…

He grabbed two rice balls and left the store, eating as he walked back to class. By the time he reached his seat, he had already finished them.

Without hesitation, he pulled out his pillow and lay down again.

A few classmates came over, inviting him to join them in ninja games, but he turned them down without a second thought.

"Come on, why are you asking him? This guy does nothing but sleep all day."

Hearing that, the classmate glanced at Aokiji, saw how comfortably he was lying down, and shrugged before leaving.

Aokiji's behavior had long since earned him a reputation.

He barely spoke to anyone, avoided unnecessary interactions, and spent most of his time sleeping.

But there was a reason for that.

Two, actually.

First, he simply didn't have the time.

Second, he didn't want to grow attached to people who were likely to die.

The vast majority of his classmates would become ninja after graduation. And once they entered the field, the reality of the profession would eventually catch up to them.

Some would survive.

Most wouldn't.

That was just how it was.

And Aokiji, already fully aware of this truth, saw no reason to build relationships that would only make things more painful later.

No point in making it harder on himself when they were gone.

Even if…

Even if losing them could be a way to unlock the Mangekyō Sharingan.

He exhaled slowly, shoving that thought aside.

Just as he was about to drift off, his senses suddenly sharpened.

Someone was standing in front of him.

Though his body remained still, his mind quickly assessed the situation. Who would bother approaching him? Most of his classmates had already learned to leave him alone.

He cracked one eye open.

A spiky-haired, white-haired boy stood before him, watching him with an unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes.

Despite the striking color of his hair, the boy's face was surprisingly plain. What a waste of good hair.

The boy grinned. "I'm Jiraiya."

Aokiji blinked once.

Jiraiya.

As in, that Jiraiya.

The same Jiraiya who would one day become one of the Legendary Sannin. The future Toad Sage. The man whose tales would shake the shinobi world.

Aokiji had already planned to befriend the Sannin at some point, carefully choosing the right timing to do so. He had spent time considering the best approach, weighing his options, and now—one of them had come to him first.

That was unexpected.

"You're Aokiji, right?" Jiraiya continued.

"Do you need something?" Aokiji asked flatly, keeping his expression neutral.

Jiraiya glanced around, checking to see if anyone else was listening. Then, with a smirk, he leaned in closer and whispered, "Let's talk somewhere private."

Aokiji raised an eyebrow.

What's with the secrecy?

He was genuinely confused. "I don't understand what you mean."

Jiraiya's smirk widened. "I know what you've been doing at night."

Aokiji stiffened.

His mind immediately jumped to the worst possible scenario.

Could it be…?

Did Jiraiya somehow find out that I've been training in secret?

Impossible.

Who the hell would be out there spying on him in the dead of night? That would require a level of insanity beyond even the standard shinobi paranoia. His entire plan revolved around maintaining his façade of laziness while secretly sharpening his skills. If that had been exposed, everything would be ruined.

His goal was simple—pretend to be a slacker in public while secretly becoming strong. Then, at the perfect moment, he would awaken his Ice Release in a dramatic display by heroically saving his comrades, repelling the enemy, and having a heartfelt epiphany about the power of friendship.

A classic redemption arc.

It would make for perfect propaganda material for his path towards becoming Hokage.

By that point, even if he exposed his Sharingan, it wouldn't matter. He'd already be in a position of power.

But if Jiraiya already knew what he was up to, that could throw a wrench into everything.

Especially since Jiraiya was a loudmouth.

Feeling a sudden wave of guilt—despite having done nothing wrong—Aokiji hesitated. "...What exactly do you think I've been doing?"

Jiraiya's grin turned downright mischievous.

"You've been reading dirty magazines at night, haven't you?"

Aokiji froze.

...What?

What the hell did he just say?

His brain momentarily short-circuited. He had been prepared for many possible scenarios. Exposure of his training. A challenge. A potential recruitment.

This was not one of them.

Jiraiya took his silence as confirmation.

"Come on, don't deny it," he whispered conspiratorially. "You always look exhausted in class. If you're not staying up late reading that stuff, then what is it?"

Aokiji exhaled slowly and pressed a hand to his face.

He had actually been worried about getting caught. By this idiot.

Jiraiya wasn't some brilliant investigator. He was just projecting his own habits onto Aokiji. This was straight out of Crayon Shin-chan.

The sheer absurdity of the situation left Aokiji at a loss for words.

Meanwhile, Jiraiya seemed completely serious.

"So," the white-haired boy continued, lowering his voice like they were exchanging high-level classified intel, "what's the code of the book you were reading?"

Aokiji sighed. "I swear I wasn't reading that kind of book."

Jiraiya nodded sagely. "Don't worry, I won't take advantage of you. We can trade collections, share resources."

Aokiji could already feel a headache coming on.

Jiraiya continued, completely oblivious to his suffering. "Personally, I prefer glamorous older sisters in leopard-print lingerie. The sheer mature charm of it…"

Aokiji scoffed. "You know nothing. The true pinnacle of temptation is a maid outfit with white thigh-highs."

For a brief moment, silence.

Then—

"Ohhh~~~"

Jiraiya dragged out the sound, nodding approvingly, his expression one of newfound respect.

Aokiji blinked.

Wait.

Had he just instinctively voiced his academic opinion?

He barely had time to regret it before—

"Ahem."

A chill ran down his spine.

He slowly turned his head.

A certain blonde-haired girl had returned to her seat, a book in hand.

Tsunade.

She was staring at him with an expression of sheer, unfiltered disgust.

There was a brief, tense moment of silence.

Then, in a flat, unimpressed voice, she muttered two words:

"Pervert."

Aokiji panicked. "I, Uchiha Aokiji, have not been reading dirty books!"

Tsunade, entirely uninterested in his defense, merely flipped a page in her book and ignored him.

It was over.

No matter how much he explained, the damage had already been done.

His reputation, his dignity—shattered in an instant.

Aokiji wanted to cry.

Jiraiya, meanwhile, scratched his cheek awkwardly. "Uh… Whoops."

Aokiji twitched.

Whoops, my ass!

Fury bubbled up inside him. Without hesitation, he grabbed Jiraiya by the collar and shook him violently.

"Damn it! Give me back my reputation!"

Jiraiya flailed. "I didn't mean for her to hear!"

"You—!"

The two boys wrestled, knocking over a chair in the process.

Tsunade sighed, barely sparing them a glance. "Idiots."

And just like that, Aokiji's peaceful lunchtime came to an end.