Jiraiya did not squawk when she rushed at him and lifted him bodily from the ground.
"Hey! Didn't you hear me! No, damnit!" He kicked her. Now, Jiraiya might have been fifty-three and wearing down by the minute but he was still a ninja, he was still one of the most respected ninja in the world! His kicks were not insubstantial things! People died from his kicks!
His toes bounced off of her as if he were nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum. Jiraiya's poor shattered ego took another blow. He kept trying though, until he noticed that the foamy material of the flip flops was being grated off by her scales.
And then the bullets started flying. (He'd encountered bullets before, there had been a couple of angry villagers with shotguns on the island before last.) In his panic he managed to remember that lovely jutsu involving his hair and numerous almost impenetrable spikes which allowed him to simultaneously protect himself from ricocheting bullets and break free from her grip.
He dropped into the surf, rolled, got to his knees and ran for cover behind the armored giant's leg. Hell, if the guy was going to start spraying bullets it made sense to get behind him!