Chapter 198: Realization
"By the way, Jiraiya, you have my condolences," Ōnoki said.
Jiraiya looked up from the teacup he'd been staring at, idly contemplating if having more would be worth it—on the one hand, marginally more wakefulness for the remainder of this nightmarishly long meeting. On the other, definitely more trouble sleeping and the need to pee again soon. Stepping out of these meetings was always a risk; you never knew what the others would get up to while you were out of the room.
"Hm?" he asked. "Condolences? For what?"
"Why, your children not making the tournament, of course," the Earth Kage said sweetly. "A pity. They had a chance until the fourth event."
Jiraiya frowned. "What are you talking about? Scores aren't settled yet. They can still pull through."
A, the Raikage, chuckled.
"I applaud your familial loyalty," said the massive mountain of muscle. "However, they are simply too far behind."
Jiraiya snorted. "Really? Care to bet on it? I've got a lumber contract that says you're wrong."
A's left eyebrow rose. "Under what terms?"
"When this event ends, if my kids are in the top sixteen on points then we sign my original draft. If they aren't, I sign the draft you've got in front of you right now."
Both eyebrows surged for the summit of A's brow. "Are you serious?"
"Serious as death," Jiraiya said, locking eyes with his counterpart.
"Gentlemen," said That Woman, "I think perhaps we're all a bit tired, and—"
"No, no," Jiraiya said, waving her to silence without looking away from A. "A is a big boy. He can talk for himself. What do you say, A? How much do you want my lumber?"
A looked at the contract in front of him, frowning, then looked back up. "Jiraiya," he said at last. "Sincerely, I applaud your devotion. Part of me is tempted to take your bet, and perhaps I should. We could certainly use the lumber. Overall, however, I think it would be unwise. We both know that this draft"—he gestured to the papers in front of him—"is ridiculously one-sided, and was only ever a bargaining position."
Ooh, clever, Jiraiya thought.
He refuses the bet on moral grounds, showing the others how trustworthy he is. Next comes the compliment....
"Whatever else you are, you are a man of honor—"
Boom! Next comes the knife....
"—and when I won the bet, you would sign. Such stringent terms would never pass in Leaf; your merchants would protest the loss of revenue, the other clans would rise up against you, you would lose the hat and I would be stuck dealing with Hyūga."
...aaand, there it is. The reminder that my hold on the hat is tenuous and that any deals with me might not be worth the paper they're scribed on.
Jiraiya chuckled. "All right," he said. "How about this?" He grabbed his brush and quickly struck out several lines of the document in front of him, scribbling replacements in the margins, then slid them across to A. "There. If I win, we use the clauses on the left. If you win, we use the ones on the right. Now will you bet?"
A read through the draft, frowning, then looked up. "You're serious. You actually expect to settle a major trade deal on a bet about
children? Children who are simply too far behind for you to win?"
Jiraiya grinned. "If you think it's a sucker bet, why won't you take it?"
"May I?" asked Rasa, holding out a hand towards A.
A passed the papers over so that the Kazekage could review them. The other man skimmed through quickly, flicking each sheet aside with practiced efficiency until he got to the end.
"These terms are...not as unreasonable as I expected from you, Jiraiya," Rasa said. "If you strike the part about the spices then I would be willing to accept them, with the terms on the right."
Jiraiya considered suppressing the smile and then chose not to. Instead, he lounged back in his chair and let the smile blossom into a full-on grin. "Would you now? Well, then I'll offer you the same bet. If my kids are in the top sixteen at the end of the fourth event then you and I sign using the terms on the left. If not, we use the terms on the right. In either case, we substitute the spices for twenty pounds of dried sandswimmer blood."
Rasa reviewed the papers again. "I accept."
That Woman extended her hand, a trace of curiosity actually appearing on her face. The Kazekage passed the papers over and she began to read through them.
A frowned. "You are very confident," he said, sizing Jiraiya up like one would size up a battlefield opponent. "Why? They simply don't have the points. They would need to defeat essentially every other contestant. Yes, your daughter's pangolins are impressive, but that is not enough."
Jiraiya shrugged. "Then take the bet."
A considered it a moment longer, lips pursed. "No," he said at last. "This deal will cost you the hat, and I don't want to deal with Hyūga. If your time simply runs out then it will likely be Nara who attends the next meeting. I confess I don't like the idea of crossing knives with him, but I still prefer him to Hyūga."
Jiraiya shrugged. "Your loss," he said. "Those are good terms and you know it. Besides, Rasa has agreed, so the hat is already on the line."
A shook his head. "I don't walk into ambushes, Jiraiya. I don't know why you're so confident, but I'm not taking this bet. Rasa can supply the metals but you still need my spices. I'll negotiate my own deal."
"Why
are you so confident, Jiraiya?" the Tsuchikage asked, reading the proposed deal in turn. "A is correct. Your children are simply too far behind. Yes, your daughter is a Summoner and before the Exams you equipped them with a ridiculous number of seals. Still, even if they defeat all the other contestants in this first round they would be crushed in the second."
Jiraiya chuckled. "Care to make a bet for yourself?"
He pondered that. "We do not need lumber," he said at last. "We prefer to build in stone and we have coal for heat."
Jiraiya shuffled through the papers in front of him. "Here," he said, pulling out the one that he'd been completely unable to get the other Kage to move on. Once again, he struck out the clauses that had been particular sticking points and wrote replacements in both margins. "You get your trade route through Fire to Noodle, Tea, and the eastern nations. I get coal and rockskipper eggs." He handed the paper over.
Ōnoki reviewed the document carefully, then crossed out several of the marginal notes. There was no room left on the page so he took a blank page from the communal stack in the center of the table. A few graceful and economical swirls of his brush and he wordlessly passed the whole packet back to Jiraiya.
Jiraiya reviewed the changes. "Ha!" he said, shaking his head. "Come on, that's ridiculous." A few strokes of the brush and a new draft went back. By now the other Kage were following the byplay with interest.
Three more drafts were exchanged before Ōnoki finally nodded. "I accept," he said. "If your children make it to the tournament then we use the terms on the left. If not, the ones on the right."
Jiraiya raised a hand. "Uh-uh," he said. "The bet is whether or not they're in the top sixteen when this event ends. I'm not losing out just because they get sick or injured during the training period."
Ōnoki raised an eyebrow. "Very well," he said. "I agree to the terms."
Jiraiya looked at That Woman. "What do you say? You want in on the action?"
She shook her head. "No," she said. "Your elder son is a sealmaster in his own right and experienced at traps, so their fortress in the second round will be nigh-impregnable. Your daughter is a Summoner and your younger son used to be a Wakahisa. He can provide all the chakra she needs to keep her pangolins on the field through both rounds, and he will drain prisoners as they go in order to replenish his reserves."
Rasa cursed, A smirked, and Ōnoki frowned.
Aww, was someone surprised? Jiraiya thought smugly.
Between the chakra drain and the pangol—
His eyes went wide and he surged to his feet. "Excuse me," he said quickly, already hurrying for the door. "Bad stomach, gotta go." The door had barely closed behind him before he chakra boosted; he was into the office across the hall and through the window before a civilian could have blinked, racing for the East Gate as fast as his feet could go and flicking off a Substitution whenever he saw a valid target. The voice of fear screamed 'Too late, too late!' in the back of his mind, alternating with the voice of shame that bellowed 'Fool! Why did you not
think?!'
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