The red moon hung over the porch. Tsunade leaned against the doorframe, witch hat tilted, black top open, skirt hiked high. One leg raised, tongue out, she held the pumpkin bucket of condoms like it was official business.

“Fifth Hokage,” she said, voice rough.

“Witch night special. Trick or treat—your choice. I’m not putting this back on until I’m done.”

Sweat ran between her breasts. The jack-o’-lanterns glowed at her feet. She shifted her hips, slow, and waited, eyes half-lidded, already deciding how the night would end.