**Chapter 4: A Dangerous Dance**
The sun casts a warm, golden glow through the wide windows of my office, painting everything in soft hues. The stacks of scrolls, documents, and the occasional sake bottle cluttering my desk are a testament to the chaos of running this village—well, running the academy, at least. I massage my temples, feeling the tension coiled in my shoulders. Teaching these brats is more exhausting than I imagined. Talented, yes, but reckless and undisciplined. A sigh slips from my lips as I reach for my sake cup.
Just as the comforting warmth slides down my throat, a sharp knock interrupts my moment of peace. Before I can bark out a reply, the door swings open.
"Well, well, hard at work, I see," comes the annoyingly familiar, teasing voice.
I don't need to look up to know who it is. Only one man would barge in so casually—Jiraiya. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smug grin plastered across his face. Those eyes, glimmering with mischief, rake over me without a hint of shame. Typical.
"What do you want, Jiraiya?" I snap, hoping to mask the irritation and mild surprise tightening my shoulders.
He saunters in, ignoring my glare, and perches himself on the edge of my desk. Too close for comfort. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"
"Friend?" I scoff. "More like a persistent annoyance."
He chuckles, undeterred. "You wound me, Tsunade."
His eyes sweep over me again, lingering where they shouldn't—low neckline, curves pressing against the fabric of my blouse. My lips twitch into a smirk. The old lecher never changes.
"I heard about your... unique teaching methods," he says, raising an eyebrow. "Seems you're keeping those brats in line."
I lean back, crossing my arms. "Someone has to. Half of them can't even focus on basic techniques."
"Maybe they're distracted by their teacher's... assets." His smirk widens, eyes flicking down pointedly.
My eye twitches. "Careful, Jiraiya."
"Oh, come on. You can't blame the kids," he continues, leaning closer. "Not when you dress like that."
A dangerous smile tugs at my lips. "And here I thought a legendary sage would be above ogling his colleagues."
"Legendary sage, yes. A saint? Not so much." He flashes me a grin—self-satisfied and infuriatingly charming.
I roll my eyes, but I can't help the faint smirk creeping onto my face. It's always a game with Jiraiya—a twisted dance where words are weapons, and neither of us backs down. It's comforting, familiar, and something I'd never admit to enjoying.
I take a slow sip of my sake, letting the warmth pool on my tongue. I don't break eye contact, daring him to say something foolish.
His gaze lingers on my lips, and I notice the sly curl of his mouth. Without warning, he leans in, one hand reaching out. My breath catches as his fingers brush my chin, thumb grazing my jawline as he wipes away a stray drop of sake.
"You missed a spot," he murmurs, the low timbre of his voice washing over me.
My eyes meet his, narrowed but intrigued. He's closer than he should be, his touch lingering as his fingers trace the line of my jaw. The boldness would be infuriating if it didn't make my pulse quicken.
He smirks. "See? You can't stay mad at me forever."
"Oh, I can," I say dryly, batting his hand away. The contact breaks, but the tension hangs thick in the air.
Jiraiya's smirk never fades. He leans in closer, breath tickling my ear. "You know," he murmurs, the heat of his voice brushing my skin, "you could always reward me for my hard work."
I arch a brow, masking the shiver that dances down my spine. "Hard work? Spying on women and writing smut doesn't count."
He chuckles. "Training Naruto is exhausting. I could use a stress reliever."
I smirk, lips curling into a wicked smile. "You couldn't handle me."
His grin widens, eyes darkening with challenge. "Try me."
Before I can retort, his lips capture mine—hot and insistent. The kiss is rough, hungry, and all-consuming. Surprise flickers through me, but it melts away as I return the kiss, my hands gripping his collar to pull him closer. His hand slides around my waist, fingers pressing firmly against the bare skin beneath my blouse. A thrill ripples through me—dangerous and electric.
But I won't give him the satisfaction.
I shove him back, lips tingling and heart pounding. He stumbles, but his cocky grin never falters. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, glaring despite the heat prickling my skin. "Still think you can handle me?"
"Oh, I know I can," he replies without hesitation.
I cross my arms. "Prove it."
His eyes gleam. "How about a friendly wager?"
I raise an eyebrow. "What kind of wager?"
He leans closer, lips brushing my ear. "If you can resist me for a week, I'll stop bothering you."
A scoff bursts from my lips. "And if I can't?"
His voice dips lower. "Then you'll owe me a night to remember."
I stare him down, weighing his confidence. The bastard's certain he'll win. I can't let him. My lips curl into a wicked smirk. "You're on, pervert."
Jiraiya laughs, pushing away from the desk with a swagger in his step. "Looking forward to it, Princess."
The door clicks shut behind him, leaving me alone with the scent of him still hanging in the air. I lick my lips, feeling the ghost of his kiss lingering there—hot, teasing, and oh-so-dangerous.
He thinks he can win? Not a chance.
I'm going to enjoy wiping that smug grin off his face. But deep down, I know this dance isn't over—it's just getting started.