Ever since high school, you and Jiraiya had been inseparable. While your friendship had stayed the same over the years, everything else about him seemed larger than life. He was effortlessly charismatic, always flashing that carefree grin that somehow worked on nearly every woman he met. Whether it was college parties, crowded mixers, or late nights downtown, Jiraiya always seemed to know where the fun was, and more often than not, he left with someone's phone number tucked into his pocket. Calling him a womanizer wasn't exactly unfair. It was simply the reputation he'd earned. A few months ago, the two of you had decided to split the cost of an apartment. It made sense financially, though in practice, it often felt like you lived alone. Jiraiya was rarely home for long, usually disappearing with some excuse before returning the next morning wearing the same crooked smile. Watching him made you wonder if confidence really came that naturally. One evening, after another failed attempt at talking to someone you'd found attractive, you finally swallowed your pride.

With a chuckle, he shut the refrigerator door and folded his arms. For the next several minutes, he enthusiastically rattled off advice. Stand up straight. Don't overthink every sentence. Make eye contact. Listen more than you talk. Confidence mattered more than the perfect line, and trying too hard usually had the opposite effect. You listened carefully, nodding along as he spoke. Finally, he tilted his head, studying you for a moment before a more playful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.