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[NTU] [ARC-24] Chapter : 319
🕑 Added 2025-05-23 13:32:03 +0000 UTC"Let’s move out!"
Jiraiya turned and led Kisame toward a modest structure tucked away behind the high ground.
Calling it a "building" was generous—it was really just a temporary encampment.
Several scattered tents blended seamlessly with the natural surroundings, almost indistinguishable from the nearby forest. From a distance, one might not even notice them.
In the center, a slightly larger tent flap was drawn open, revealing a circle of shinobi from various nations, sitting cross-legged and deep in discussion.
"Jiraiya-sama..."
The ninjas nodded in greeting as Jiraiya approached.
"Haha! No need to be so formal," Jiraiya said with a grin. "We're all from different villages, but at the end of the day, we're still comrades of sorts."
He gave a casual nod to the assembled shinobi and sat down among them.
His gaze swept across the group.
There was Kitsuchi, Dodai, Baki, and Kisame—each one representing a different village.
They had come together at the suggestion of the Toshiro, united by a common goal: to safeguard trade and mediate commercial disputes.
At first, the group had been small—barely a handful. But as trade in the region surged, so too did the problems.
Each village began receiving more requests for escort missions, and as the lucrative “protection fees” rolled in from the trade zone, the potential benefits became impossible to ignore. Villages began sending more personnel to stake their claim.
With that came internal friction.
Alliances were forged, feet were dragged, and sabotage became commonplace. The political undercurrents were as thick as mist.
Amid this infighting, they lost sight of their original mission. Several tragic incidents occurred—merchants killed, goods destroyed. It was enough to draw the ire of Toshiro, who sent Jiraiya, dubbed "the sinner," to restore order.
"I’ll be heading back to Konoha soon. I’ll be counting on all of you to hold the fort here."
The elders had written him, insisting something urgent required his return to Konoha—no exceptions.
He didn’t entirely agree with their urgency, but frankly, the idea of a break didn’t sound too bad.
For years now, Jiraiya had been buried in this thankless work—protecting borders, managing trade conflicts—without a single day to himself.
Time and again, he had passed by hot spring inns and red-light districts, unable to stop and gather research. The life he was leading barely felt like living at all.
As he finished speaking, silence fell over the room.
"...You guys~" Jiraiya sighed, lips twitching in amusement.
No one said a word, but their glances spoke volumes.
Dodai shot Baki a knowing look. Kitsuchi and Kisame exchanged glances and nodded subtly. Kisame’s eyes flicked calmly to Dodai, while Kitsuchi gave Baki a faint smile.
In mere moments, a silent conversation had passed between them all.
"So, Lord Jiraiya..." Baki asked, almost too eagerly, "Who do you plan to leave in charge while you're away?"
Jiraiya was known for his strength, humor, and fairness. No one—whether present or in their villages—could fault him.
But now, as his eyes moved across his so-called colleagues, he knew: none of them were quite up to the task. Even those stronger than him lacked the skill—or neutrality—needed to lead effectively.
With trade booming, a single biased decision could cause massive losses—or profits.
"I'll only be gone a short while—maybe a week, two months at most."
After a moment's thought, Jiraiya’s gaze skipped over Baki. Baki lacked the strength to command authority here. Kisame was strong, but too young—he wouldn’t be able to control the volatile group.
The organization now had over 500 operatives. That was no small force, and certainly not one a rookie could manage.
"Kitsuchi, Dodai—you’ll be in charge while I’m gone. I’ll leave a communication frog behind. If anything comes up, send me a message."
His tone made it clear: this wasn’t a suggestion.
It wasn’t just their personal strength that made them the right choice, but also the weight of the villages they represented. Their authority was non-negotiable.
"Understood."
Kitsuchi and Dodai exchanged glances, nodded in unison, and offered no protest.
With his orders given, Jiraiya didn’t linger.
He left the trade zone behind and began his journey back to Konoha.
—
"Nagato... won’t you reconsider?"
High atop the tower in the Hidden Rain Village, two figures stood side by side, letting the ever-present drizzle fall silently around them.
“The ninja world has changed drastically,” Konan said, her voice quiet but firm.
“Some things are finally improving. Maybe... we don’t have to follow such dangerous paths anymore.”
Dressed in her crimson-clouded cloak, Konan withdrew her gaze from the rain-slicked village below and looked to the red-haired man beside her.
“Trade has brought life back to our streets. The Hokage’s agreement has settled the people. Our village is beginning to stir again.”
Below, the signs of change were undeniable—hotels and warehouses rising, gentle smiles on weary faces, and children chasing each other through the rain. A fragile peace, but peace nonetheless.
The Land of Rain had been the greatest beneficiary of the recent trade boom. Even without direct participation, simply being a crossroads ensured profit. Goods flowed through in endless streams, leaving opportunity in their wake. Slowly, visibly, life was improving.
Nagato’s voice broke the silence, low and uncertain.
“This... is only temporary.”
He sounded almost conflicted.
He knew Konan was right—knew it better than anyone. But he also knew how the world worked. Every man-made system eventually crumbled under its own weight.
How long could this peace last?
Ten years? Twenty? Maybe longer...
But when nations grew greedy, when the profits waned and disputes piled up, they would once again turn to war—more brutal, more desperate than ever before.
Nagato stepped forward, eyes fixed on the horizon.
“Konan, this fleeting peace is like the weather of our homeland. The sky here is filled with clouds and storm. Sunshine is just a brief illusion.”
Nagato himself had changed. The black chakra rods—once protruding like antennae from his back—had been removed with Zetsu’s help. His once-useless legs had been miraculously healed, and he felt his body slowly recovering. His gaunt features now held a trace of color.
Obito and Zetsu had seen it too: the old Nagato alone couldn’t defeat the Hokage. Strengthening him wasn’t a choice—it was a necessity.
“Nagato... you’re being too extreme.”
Konan wasn’t surprised by his answer, but she pressed on.
“Jiraiya-sensei is waiting at the border. Don’t you want to see him?”
Nagato shook his head.
“I already agreed to let the trade caravans and shinobi pass through the Land of Rain. That’s the extent of my compromise.”
“Seeing him again? That’s unnecessary.”
To Nagato, Jiraiya’s dreams were nothing more than naive idealism.
“I allowed the passage of merchants for one reason—so you could return safely.”
Konan’s expression dimmed. She glanced sideways at a nearby structure—a cold, metallic building that didn’t belong. It was Obito and Zetsu’s hidden base within the village.
“You call Jiraiya-sensei’s vision naive, but isn’t Obito’s plan even more absurd?”
“At least Jiraiya is someone we can trust. That masked man? He hides in shadows and manipulates others. He only wants the Rinnegan’s power for himself.”
They had learned the truth after the last battle with the Hokage—Uchiha Obito had masqueraded as Madara, guiding Nagato under false pretenses.
It was absurd.
A shinobi thought to have died in the last war, surviving only to return and deceive. And now, with his identity revealed, the illusion of power was broken.
“He’s not to be trusted,” Konan said. “You know that.”
“I know,” Nagato replied. “But experience has taught me that his words, however cruel, hold truth.”
Now that Obito’s identity and abilities were out in the open, he no longer posed the same threat. He was just another Uchiha with space-time ninjutsu.
Nagato no longer feared him—he could now focus fully on his goal.
“The only real obstacle to the plan is Uchiha Toshiro. He’s the only one standing in my way.”
After their last failure, Nagato understood how formidable Toshiro was. Even if he used the Rinnegan’s power to the limit, it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t truly defeat him—not yet.
But his body was recovering. His strength was returning.
And once he gathered the full power of the Six Paths...
“When the time comes, Konan,” he said softly, “I will fulfill Yahiko’s dream. I will bring peace to this world.”
The rain continued to fall, unrelenting, as if echoing his resolve. Nagato stood still, his eyes distant.
Yahiko’s death remained a wound that would never close.
And this—this was the only way he knew to make it matter.
