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Raising one hand lazily over his eyes, Jiraiya peered up from the ground. "Hey dude. Want a drag?" he drawled, offering up a smoking stub with tanned fingers.

Orochimaru's pale, elegant digits twitched the smoke onto the floor, where he proceeded to grind it under one platform-ed heel. "You idiot, how can we perform if you're stoned out of your puny brain?"

Reproachful eyes glared at him from under bleached-blond eyebrows. "My smoke..." he sighed mournfully.

"Oi! I'm not coming in there unless you promise you two aren't making out again!"

"In your dreams, Tsunade," came from the sprawled figure on the ground, "and Oro's too, of course."

The named pianist, finally recovering from his sputtered denials, thwapped the lazy drummer over the back of his head. "That was only once," he shouted indignantly, "and it was your fault for spiking my drink anyway!"

"That's right, you never did pay me back for those boots you puked on," commented Tsunade, swinging around the doorpost with a slight frown on her face that faded into a grin the instant she spotted Orochimaru. "What's this, then?" she teased, letting go of the door to prod at his reddened cheeks. "Something you want to tell me? Or, tell Jira, that is?"

Orochimaru turned away, blushing even brighter. "Normal people do blush when forced to remember embarrassing occurrences. Don't even dream of playing matchmaker, or the next solo you sing will detail the joys of gay sex. Intimately." He stomped over to the dressing-room's single mirror, muttering under his breath. "Besides," he shot over his shoulder, "those boots looked like vomit from the minute you bought them, I hardly made a difference."

"Meow!" commented a forgotten Jiraiya from the floor. As both his fellow band-members turned to glare at him, he shrank into the wall, making warding gestures with his arms. "Pretend I didn't say anything."

"Shut it, you." Tsunade growled, advancing on him menacingly. "Don't you think you're in enough trouble?" She brandished a poster threateningly.

"T-trouble, Tsunade? Why would I think that?"

"You actually thought I wouldn't notice if you got Sarutobi to cross it off our posters?"

Curious, Orochimaru abandoned his eyeliner in favour of snatching the piece of paper from the guitarist's hand. His eye twitched as he read. "Amphibians Unite? We are going on stage under the name Amphibians Unite?"

"Chill, won't you?" Jiraiya tried, pleadingly. He pulled himself up off the floor with aid of a dressing table, seeing as neither of his band mates were feeling generous enough to give him floor-space. "I was high, it wasn't my fault. Besides, I asked Mr. Manager-Guy -"

"Sarutobi," Orochimaru inserted, unimpressed.

"- yeah, Mr. Manager-Guy. Asked him to make sure they were re-labelled 'Kunai' as soon as I sobered up." He looked hopefully at the two in front of him. "It's not -that- big a deal, really... is it?"

Orochimaru slumped against the edge of the table, one black-varnished hand massaging his forehead. "Thanks to you, we will be performing our first real gig as 'Kunai: The band formerly known as Amphibians Unite.' I don't believe this..."

Tsunade bit her lip, but couldn't hold back a snort when her eyes met Jiraiya's. Orochimaru glared at her weakly through his fingers. "Oh come on, Oro, put like that even you have to see the humour. Most bands don't reach 'formerly known as' until at least their second top-ten."

Faced with Jiraiya's hopeful expression and Tsunade's grin, Orochimaru caved. "Fine," he grumbled, then turned to address the drummer directly. "But after this stunt, I expect you to stay fully sober - and clean! - for at least a week."

"But -" Jiraiya yelped indignantly.

"No. Satan knows what you'll do next time you get smashed, and if I arrive at the next gig to find my keyboard's been sprayed pink heads will roll." Pushing up off the table, Orochimaru turned his back and stalked off to his make-up.

"Sorry, mate," Tsunade answered Jiraiya's hang-dog look, "but he's got a point. Besides, sober's good for you. It increases your life expectancy." Toying with her stiletto pendant, Tsunade's eyes hardened for an instant. "In all sorts of ways." Leaning over to grab her dark red guitar, she sashayed out the door, shouting a cheerful "Be out in twenty or we're screwed!" behind her.

"Dude..." Jiraiya whistled quietly once Tsunade was out of range, "why is she so scary?" His paled face threw the two red tattoos into sharp relief.

Orochimaru rolled his eyes, having finally finished outlining them with kohl. "You're just a wimp about volatile women. Now get over here and get ready, before I do your makeup for you." Grabbing Jiraiya's arm, he forced him to the mirror and stood over him threateningly with an eyeliner pencil.

"I take it back - you're far more evil than she is." Jiraiya grumbled, as Orochimaru smirked triumphantly. Outside the changing-room, Tsunade's dulcet tones were reaming out some unfortunate techie or other. For the fledgling band, all was right with the world.