Great Lakes and Expectations ch 4

“おはようございます。”

She roused at the sternest “good morning” call she could remember and reflexively mumbled something similar back. Ugh. Regina felt stiff and unhappy to sit up, but it was hard to sneak five more minutes of sleep when someone had come into your room and actually opened the windows to let in freezing cold air. And then waited around for you to get out of bed.

'This is cruel and unusual. Why do I have to be woken up? I'm not going anywhere, am I?'

A maid she hadn't spoken to started folding up the bedding as soon as Regina crawled out of it. The strict-faced maid was holding a much fancier-looking kimono than yesterday's clothing.

Regina allowed herself to be wrapped up and arranged, bemused by the mysterious reason behind the process but more than willing to wear pretty clothes.  

'This isn't daily wear,' she guessed. 'Osafune and his mother dress nicely, but I think this is a step above? So either I'm being assumed to have higher status than my host- unlikely- or there is something special going on today.'

She was leaning pretty heavily towards the special events theory throughout breakfast of miso soup, okayu, and tsukemono paired with hot barley tea. Regina recalled this was the exact menu she had eaten at a Buddhist temple on an English-language tour and found it a little comforting.

'Maybe they do zazen for the public here too. I should ask. I actually enjoyed looking at a wall for an hour to meditate and then having a priest walk around telling a story and hitting people with a stick. Maybe if I do it again, this time I'll understand if getting hit is a good sign or a bad sign. It can't be worse than spending my mornings here. I'm up anyways.'

They went out after that. She tottered as gracefully as she could in the beautiful shoes, and did her best not to think of them as tall, fancy flip-flops. Even though they had an open top and were only held on by a v of fabric that met between her toes. Definitely not flip-flops. Fli-flops just weren't dignified.

Kumiko and a ….a guard, maybe? - took her to a very nice traditional home where a maid greeted them and had them seated before the woman she could only assume was her hostess came in.

'She looks like an absolute boss. I cannot help but feel that she is firing me, right now, at this current moment. I am being let go from my job.'

Regina tried to look attentive, pleasant, and inoffensive.

The older woman was very short and had just a bit of the roundness that almost everyone gets after turning 50 or so. Her hair was still black even at the roots and she carried her age well, but didn't read as particularly friendly. She said something in an incongruously high voice that caused everyone else to leave the room. And then she fixed her dark, heavy-lidded eyes on Regina.

“Good morning,” she said.

Regina stared a moment before she remembered to respond. “Good morning!” She said it a little more enthusiastically than was completely necessary, but she was feeling surprised in the best way. English. She was hearing English for the first time in weeks.

Her hostess bowed. “I am Shirogawa Tomiko,” she said. It came out rote and practiced. “It is nice to meet you.”

Where the fuck did this woman learn English? It really did not seem like there was a lot of linguistic diversity around, so… it definitely implied an outsider, right? That either someone had come in or that Shirogawa-san had gone out?

'Australia is closest to Japan, right? Is there a rogue Australian on the loose? Can I run away with them?'

Regina bowed back, feeling the smile split her face. “I am Regina. It is nice to meet you, too.” She swallowed, wondering how to ask. Well. When in Japan, do as the Japanese do…. “Your English is very good,” she complimented.  

...She didn't actually know yet if it was any good or not, but it would be too rude to ask 'why the hell do you speak my language and are you any good at it?'  

Maybe the compliment would lead the conversation to the topic of where Tomiko's English had been learned and if Regina could go there and cry.

Tomiko waved off the compliment. “No, no.” She did smile a little, showing that she had all her teeth and that they were only a little crooked. “My English is very poor. Many years ago I studied in England.”

“Ah, is that so,” Regina said. She felt her mood go down, just a bit. England. Made sense, in a hallucination dimension where Japan was full of punch-wizards and hodge-podge Western influences. England would have been the first English-speaking country Japan had significant contact with. “That's interesting.”

“Have you ever been to England?” Tomiko put her hands on her lap.

Ha, no. Regina had to shake her head. “No, I haven't. I'm from America.”

Tomiko made a polite sound of comprehension. “I see.” She seemed to be working her way around to a question, mouth moving silently for a moment. “Are you… You are the daughter of Jiraiya-sama?”

Ah yikes, somehow the lie tasted worse in her native tongue. “I am,” Regina said, feeling all kinds of weird.

“But you have not lived in the Elemental Nations,” Tomiko observed. “Why do you come here now?”

'Her English is solid enough,' Regina judged. 'She might still have a relatively small knowledge base, but she's really good at what she knows.'  

On the outside, she put on a smile. If it came out queasy, well, that was situationally appropriate for all kinds of reasons. “I lived with my mother,” she said. The tone came out stiffly enough that Tomiko might guess it was not a happy cohabitation. “She has passed away, so I came to live with my father.”

Tomiko paused a moment before nodding along.

'Crap. She might not know 'passed away'. That's an Americanism. Did she guess? I think she's too dignified to ask me for clarification, but would I insult her by repeating myself?'

“How fortunate, for your father,” Tomiko hedged.

She was prepared for the possibility of something awkward, so she didn't even have to force down a laugh.

'She almost definitely did not know that euphemism. Maybe I should have corrected myself after all.'

But the moment had passed. It was too late to say anything. So she smiled and nodded. “I am interested to see his home and experience Japanese life,” Regina said. It was the blandest possible response she could think of, but it wasn't going to contradict Jiraiya's story.

She was already feeling uncomfortable in seiza. Her legs itched to move but she really did not want to.  

“As I told you, I studied abroad, years ago.”

Regina focused on the older woman. There was a purpose to that statement that sounded like the conversation might actually be going somewhere.

“In these days, only one European Country has the habit of trade with the Elemental Nations, and that country has only agreed to trade only with the Land of Cloud. But many years ago, it was thought that trade from the Western countries was desirable, and so some young people were sent to build relationships.”

'The Dutch? The Dutch trade with Cloud Country? That's gotta be them, if the historical parallels follow that this really is an alternate version of old Japan.'

Whoa. On some level, she really had accepted that she was in the past of some alternate world. The realization dropped like a marble into a swimming pool. The thought was an interesting bit that Regina would have to dig out later to examine.

“From the Land of Iron, ten young people were sent to London.”

The words had the feeling of being well-worn, falling in a gentle pattern. It sounded like she was repeating something she'd heard or said many times. Regina stared, fascinated.

'I read about this kind of thing in history class, but that was so long ago. No way could you hear a living person talk about this experience. But I'm listening to her now. She said young people- but she means girls, I bet. The first Japanese people sent to learn abroad were all girls. From important families, hedging their bets about remaining influential in the changing times.'

...Tomiko was some kind of noble or samurai.  

Badass.

“I was a member of that program.” Tomiko's hard exterior cracked just enough to show what might have been wistfulness, or just plain sadness. Maybe she missed living overseas, being special, doing something potentially important for her country? Obviously the program had fallen though, but she couldn't have known that at the time. Maybe it had been a great time.  

Or maybe the experience had been awful and isolating. The world was small and stifling and miserable when you were suddenly incapable of basic errands or communicating any thoughts.  

Whichever way it was, she wasn't about to tell some foreign girl half her age.  

“That must have been interesting,” Regina hedged blandly, because it was obviously her turn to speak but she didn't want to risk changing whatever mood Tomiko was in.

It was no use. Tomiko nodded slightly, and then she was unapproachable again. “Just so,” she said crisply. “I would like to ask your opinion. There was an unlucky occurrence some weeks ago, in the waters. I have made my opinion, and we have asked the opinion of a visiting trader who was luckily able to visit from the Land of Clouds.” Tomiko's lips twisted ever so slightly as she paused over her next words. “As our opinions do not agree, Mifune-sama is withholding judgment. However, it is possible that you, a foreign person who speaks their language, may be able to lend weight to the thinking of either myself, or that of a foreign person who does not speak their language.”

“Their language?” Regina asked, just a little lost. “Who are you talking about, exactly?”

Tomiko gave her a look that implied she had missed something implied earlier. “The ship from England that sunk in our waters,” she said, very patiently. “There are seven men who are not dead.”

“Ah,” Regina breathed. That- that made sense, then. If Iron just had a spare native speaker of English laying around when such an awkward incident came up, it made sense to utilize her. “What kind of ship is it? What were they doing here?”

'I could ask them about – well. Not about home. But someplace closer to home.'

Tomiko rose. “As that is what Smit-san and I cannot agree upon, I think it is best to allow you to come to your thinking without hearing our thinking.” Her chin went up.

'I think it would be better for my stay here if I agreed with Tomiko. Here's hoping that works out.'

Regina stood, because Tomiko was too. “I understand.” She bowed, because long experience in Japanese body language was telling her it was an appropriate time. “I'll do my best. When shall I go?”

SNOOPFROG

Iwagakure was as cheery as it ever was. Jiraiya entered with a family of merchants and tradespeople, winning their support with a combination of a sob story and bribery. He'd deliberately picked a cheerful bunch, but even their attitudes dimmed under the oppressive weight of stone stretching into the sky to blot out the clouds. It was just unnatural, was what it was.

The height of the buildings might have looked better if it had been built against a cliff face, or some other natural feature. As it was, the stone towers lorded over an enormous rocky plain of wildflowers and scrub-brush. They were unmistakable as a boast about Iwagakure's might, their ability to shape the world around them.

'Or maybe the Tsuchikage just likes to feel tall sometimes,' Jiraiya chided himself. 'There's no need to get myself worked up.'

He didn't dare to leave his companions the first day, or even the second. It was very rare, but sometimes, while unloading carpets or hauling furniture in for repairs, he distinctly felt eyes on him. That was Iwagakure all over, suspicious to a fault. Honestly, that kind of paranoia was no way to live. Poor bastards.

He slipped away the third day when his extensive tour of the bathrooms of Iwagakure's cheap restaurants finally paid off with one that had a window in it. He sent a clone back out to work and attached himself to the ceiling. After a good thirty men had demonstrated their absolute incompetence in aiming, he slipped out under the chameleon genjutsu and moved to investigate his newer agent. She was a plant in a city office. Nothing that crossed her desk was classified, but it was very useful to him to know details about the administration of another shinobi village.

The first obvious thing to check were the two dropsites. They were long-abandoned. Clearly no one had visited them recently. Was she avoiding him? Was she trying to quit espionage simply by going dark on him? That wouldn't be the worst outcome, to be honest.

She also couldn't be found at her work, which meant that either she wasn't just avoiding him or that she was very committed to it. That was a shame.

He didn't know what he was going to do with the proof of residence copy he got a city clerk to make for some poor bastard he pick-pocketed for identification, a bankbook, and his personal seal. Jiraiya ended up stuffing them in his pocket along with the ID to return later. Or maybe not, maybe that was just his identity now.

His next stop was her home. She didn't know that he knew where it was, but he wouldn't have trusted information from someone he couldn't track down.

“Huh.” He hadn't meant to make any sound at all, but this called for a reaction. Safely wearing the guise of a real Iwagakure citizen, with id to match, Jiraiya felt secure enough to cross his arms and just look for a moment.

The apartment complex was gone. It had been completely torn down. The place that had once served as residences for 6 families was currently a flat lot covered in scraggly weeds.

'It's safe to say that she's dead, or captured. My last contact from her was four weeks ago. Either that was fake information from someone else, or this happened very quickly.'

He caught sight of something in the grass, waving like paper in the wind. Frowning, Jiraiya crouched for a closer look.

Skin. It was discarded skin.

From his extensive experience, it looked like it was from something small and local. It didn't necessarily mean anything.

Or it could be a message.

He chewed his cheek and the options as he stood. Regular, coincidental snakeskin? Or psychological warfare, a calling mark from his old teammate?

'I don't like this.'

An Iwagakure chuunin was watching him from the street, her square face disapproving.

He ducked his head and hurried on his way, because he was just a fat office worker on a lunch break.

She disappeared for a while, then walked past once under a henge to check on him. By that poin he'd settled in at a teishoku place and was putting away a truly unpleasant amount of fried food to validate his cover identity. The chuunin took a seat nearby and didn't really bother to hide her disgust as he ate so much food that he could not possibly be planning any athletic shenanigans. She left, and this time it was for real.

He excused himself to the bathroom to vomit enough that his stomach wouldn't interfere with his ability to run if he needed to. There was more that he wanted to do, but he only had a slim window of time to switch back with his clone at the pre-planned rendezvous point.

He returned to working with the merchants and learned about repairing wooden furniture, which was apparently so valuable in Iwagakure that people would bring heirloom chairs to be cleaned and taken care of by wandering woodworkers. Bizarre. The world was truly full of diversity.

Also, Iwagakure's soil was mostly too dry and loose to support decent-sized trees which meant wood was imported and expensive. That was probably a factor.

The workers' visa was set to expire in a week, but he couldn't hurry too much. His impersonation must have been discovered. Or something else had happened, that was possible. Either way, the military was taking a much more active role in supervising civilian activities. Jiraiya didn't test his luck, settling in to be the best woodworker he could possibly be.

It was only two nights before the departure date when he had a chance to check in on his second agent. That man was a career genin who thought he was passing information to the Tsuchikage's political rivals, a ruse helped by Jiraiya occasionally making sure they got that information to act on.

The weird thing was that this man appeared to be living as normal. Jiraiya tailed him at work, on break, to his home. As far as he could tell, the guy was just... doing his thing.

'If I'd gone to him first...' Jiraiya considered it. 'I would have just assumed that he had decided to stop reporting to me. And someone would assume I would go to my longest-held contact, wouldn't they? But the new girl was completely burned. I don't trust that this guy changed his mind in the same time frame.'

He kept his post all night and was rewarded with the faint exhalation of chakra from a henge being dismissed and reapplied.

He slunk back to his post without attempting to make contact, mind whirring. Was this an expert or a juvenile operation? Successfully integrating an impostor into Iwagakure was a hell of a feat. But it seemed just plain sloppy to have him suddenly stop passing information to Jiraiya. Why not have him pass on false or useless information so that no one knew about the switch? What would a person gain from that?

Jiraiya completely dismissed the possibility that his man just happened to have been targeted for someone else's spy operation. He didn't believe in those kinds of coincidences.

If it really was Orochimaru, the obvious answer was the he was just fucking with Jiraiya. If it was another party, the answer was that it had been a trap to draw him in. The jaws would snap shut on him when he approached.

'Could be Iwagakure themselves,' Jiraiya realized belatedly. 'Might not be a third party at all. They could have discovered the spies and set up a sting operation to catch out whoever tried to make contact. That would explain why someone at that old apartment complex would stir up the nest for days.'

But again, why treat the spies so differently? Why impersonate one and erase the other?

He bitterly regretted that he was out of time to check on his third man, but he couldn't risk it on this disguise. Jiraiya left with his newfound family, made a great many promises to stay in contact, and slunk to a nearby village to scope out his next ticket into Iwagakure.

It was apparently a common vacation destination, he discovered. The village was almost a city, really, but it was more like three or four small towns had grown together. He did the tourist thing- walked through the gardens of a local lord, bought some local pottery, and went to a small zoo to gawk at the oldest goat in the country. It had featured heavily in the advertisements for the city and he was the slightest bit curious to see the damn thing.  

In person… It did look pretty old. While other animals paced or nudged the fence, Ajiisan the ojiisan goat laid on his side in the dirt. His fur was patchy, his hooves obviously worn. The sad thing opened one gummy eye when the tour group came through, and then decided they weren't worth moving for.

'That goat has given up on life. They should let him relax somewhere dark for two minutes and it'll shuffle off this mortal plane.'

Jiraiya didn't keep the revulsion off his face. “It looks sick,” he commented. “Maybe it's dying. You're going to need a new advertising campaign maybe next week.”

The tour guide looked at him sharply, but her wide grin didn't falter for an instant. “How amusing!” she chirped. Her smallish eyes bored into his face with uncomfortable intensity.

'I get the feeling that she's imagining feeding my corpse to the goats. I think she's capable of it. Maybe she's done it before.'

“Eh, heh heh...” He rubbed at the back of his neck and then discovered a placard that he really had to read, right now. By coincidence. He stared at it until the guide moved on and started talking again.

The group he was keeping an eye on passed him. Their conversation had turned to their two-day plans in Iwagakure. They were arguing about having reserved the wrong hotel.

Jiraiya smiled at the animal he was in front of. Some kind of bird, he registered belatedly. Yikes. He glanced back at the name card and then at the beast again. “You're one ugly son of a bitch,” he mused.

The ostrich stared back, deeply resentful. It might have been thinking the same thing about him.

God, this zoo was just plain creepy.  

He beat feet to the gift shop, because everyone needed to go there to leave the zoo anyway. He perused the postcards until he found the single most hideous one possible and bought it. The salesclerk waited patiently for him to compose the perfect message and then hand it back to be put with the outgoing mail.  

Jiraiya stuck his brush back in his hair for safekeeping, still a little damp with ink. “Perfect.” He held the postcard out at arm's length, checking his handwriting and brilliance. “She'll love it.” He blew on it to dry it.

“I'm sure that she will,” the salesclerk agreed. She looked like the kind of absolutely wonderful woman who had three children and a fluffy yellow dog. Probably wore gloves when she did the dishes, put her kids' drawings on the fridge.

On impulse, he showed her his message. “Yagi-san, what do you think?”

She leaned in to read it and blinked rapidly, then back at him. “It's… Ah, you have a daughter?”  Ms. Yagi laughed. “I like it,” she said, but was clearly not willing to give more direct feedback. “

'Probably isn't sure if it's a joke or not.'

He hummed and let her put it in the box for mail.

Yagi-san was wrong, actually. She was going to hate it. It was going to be fantastic. That was the point.

He leaned against the wall outside while he waited to tail his target group, mind idly turning over how his life had changed. He was committed to it now. Rejina might as well actually be his kid, because he couldn't just get rid of her now that he had claimed her.

Jiraiya found that he didn't mind.

Aside from all the entertainment value this possessed, it was really the only thing he could have done. Aside from leaving her to an undoubtedly grim fate, that was.

It wasn't his fault that she had wound up being dragged across dimensions, caught in the middle of a shinobi fight. That hadn't been on purpose anyway, but it was still shitty. It was low to involve civilians in shinobi business. It was just vicious and unnecessary.

He still could have walked away. If he'd been a different man, anyway. Or maybe if he'd been a younger man. Like he said, it hadn't been his fault. It wasn't really even his responsibility, except that she had gotten caught up by someone looking for an edge on him, and the fact that now she had been associated with him.

Lots of things weren't Jiraiya's fault.

It wasn't his damn fault that those kids in Ame had ended up orphaned and caught up in shit beyond their abilities. It wasn't his fault that Minato had died, that Minato's kid was an orphan.

But at some point, he had to admit that walking away was the reason that all four of his students were dead. He had left Konan and Nagato and Yahiko without protection and they had all gotten themselves killed within a year. He had walked away from Minato to train them, too. It was a fucking miracle that Minato hadn't gotten killed in that period when his jounin teacher fucked off to Ame.  

Jiraiya was starting to see the long string of failures in his life as a pattern. He was too trusting, too flip, too fast to walk off, too careless with other peoples' welfare.

For the moment, he needed to leave Rejina in capable hands. But he'd get her to a safe, permanent place. And it wouldn't hurt him to have someone living in his empty house in Konoha. He wasn't going to have any other heir, anyway. He was never going to get married and have his own kid.

Plus, as said before, it was going to be deeply funny.  

Ah, finally. He kicked off the wall under genjutsu and followed the family he was going to go with.

They weren't as friendly and fun as the other group. There was definitely not going to be a chance of convincing them to lie about having always had him in their group and letting him copy paperwork off of theirs.

It was better to change methods anyway, keep it fresh and unpredictable.

He scoped them out, watched the way that they interacted, and picked his impersonation target. Now all he had to do was get them out of the way, maybe send them under a genjutsu walking backwards for a day.  

'Quick in and out this time,' Jiraiya decided. 'A more brute force approach. Bust through to actually approach the last agent, and then get out of Iwagakure before the alarm is up.'