Chapter 164: New Information!
"Thank you for the offer, Hokage-sama… but I just want to live as an ordinary shinobi. I have no interest in any kind of promotion."
Ryosuke didn't hesitate. In the quiet reception room, with only him and Jiraiya seated across from each other at the long table, his reply was firm and direct.
Hokage?
For others, such an offer might've been an honor—a lifelong dream fulfilled. But for Ryosuke, it was nothing but a burden. The countless responsibilities and bureaucratic duties would only hinder his training. Managing a massive military force and village? That was far removed from his goals.
Even within the Hyuga clan, which he had a personal stake in, he rarely involved himself in leadership decisions.
"…Won't you reconsider?" Jiraiya asked, though not surprised.
He already understood Ryosuke's personality from their past interactions. Still, the speed of the refusal caught him off guard.
Most people born in Konoha aspired to be Hokage at some point. Even Jiraiya himself had once dreamed of it—before he learned the price it required. Over time, as he rose in influence and uncovered the village's darker sides, he abandoned that ambition. He knew now that he lacked the necessary coldness—to sacrifice others for the greater good, to pursue power not just for protection, but for control.
"Status and recognition mean nothing to me," Ryosuke said, his voice calm and steady. "I only care about training—pushing my body and spirit further than anyone else."
"…I see."
Jiraiya gave a slow nod of understanding.
Different paths, but the same root. Like Jiraiya, Ryosuke had no desire to wear a crown made of paper and politics. The difference was that Ryosuke recognized that truth far earlier.
"Well then, I won't press the matter."
Jiraiya leaned back slightly, the heavy tone lifting from his voice. "Since you don't plan to attend the commendation ceremony or explain your absence on the battlefield, I'll clarify everything for you. I'll make sure your name is cleared."
Ryosuke nodded, genuinely grateful. "Thank you, Hokage-sama."
"No need to thank me. What you did for the village may very well outweigh anything I've done my entire career."
Jiraiya raised his hand casually, brushing aside the praise. "Besides, I didn't come just to confirm what happened during the time you vanished from the battlefield. There's another matter."
He picked up his teacup and took a sip, gathering his thoughts before continuing.
"It's about the Mist Village invasion."
He set the cup down.
"Even now, there are still too many unanswered questions. We haven't received any communication from Kirigakure. No demands, no explanations, nothing."
He narrowed his eyes. "Why did they launch this war in the first place? What was their goal? What were they trying to gain? None of it makes sense. We've been investigating since the fighting ended, but we're still in the dark."
After that brief preface, he got to the point.
"Since you intercepted and engaged what we believe to be the high-ranking commander directing their operations from the shadows… I need to confirm the identity of that individual."
"What did he look like? What were his abilities, his techniques? Did he show up in any intelligence your clan has gathered? Was he someone known from previous wars?"
Jiraiya fired off question after question, his mind racing ahead. Ryosuke, listening silently, didn't interrupt.
Instead, he calmly poured a fresh cup of hot tea and slid it across the table.
Then, in a measured voice, he said, "Before I answer, I'd like to ask you something first, Jiraiya-senpai."
The change in tone—from "Hokage-sama" to "Jiraiya-senpai"—was subtle but deliberate. It caught Jiraiya's attention immediately.
"Go ahead," he said, curious.
"I've heard stories," Ryosuke began, "of how you used to travel the world incognito, exploring various lands and cultures. You must've met many powerful individuals over the years."
He chuckled softly. "So, I'm wondering… have you ever encountered warriors who weren't shinobi? Strong individuals who didn't rely on chakra?"
"Like witches, shamans, monks… warriors who draw their strength from something else entirely?"
That was a question Ryosuke had held onto for a long time.
Ever since the war ended—and especially after meeting Blueno, the man who clearly came from another world—he'd started questioning everything.
Could there be others like him? Beings of great strength who didn't use chakra? Otherworldly forces hiding in the blind spots of the known world?
He'd dug through every Hyuga intelligence scroll, dispatched scouts across the Land of Fire searching for rumors of non-ninja warriors. But nothing had turned up. No traces, no hints.
Now, seeing Jiraiya again, the question returned with renewed urgency.
"…A powerful combatant without chakra?"
Jiraiya blinked, caught off guard. Then his expression tightened.
"…Is this related to the person you fought that day?" he asked, already drawing conclusions.
"Yes," Ryosuke answered without elaborating further.
He wanted Jiraiya to answer first—freely, without being influenced.
After a moment, Jiraiya leaned back, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
"I've wandered across the world for many years," he said. "And yes, I've met all kinds of people. Heard more rumors than I can count."
He ticked them off with his fingers.
"The Priestess of the Demon Country—she's a miko who wields powerful spiritual energy. I saw her seal away a monstrous creature using sheer will and ritual alone."
"The Land of Iron has some powerful samurai. Most of them have started integrating chakra into their swordsmanship, but a few… a few still rely on ancient techniques, refined over decades without chakra infusion."
He paused. "As for Onmyoji… that's something from another era. According to the oldest texts, they used spiritual contracts, ink seals, and talismans. But none exist today—at least, none I've seen with my own eyes."
Jiraiya exhaled slowly.
"In the end, chakra became dominant for a reason. It's efficient, adaptable, and devastating when mastered. Other systems simply couldn't keep up. They were either absorbed into shinobi practice… or forgotten entirely."
His tone grew somber. "Only the strong survive, Ryosuke. Paths without a clear future fade into myth."
He looked across the table, meeting Ryosuke's eyes.
"I've never met anyone who could match a ninja's strength without chakra. At least… not in this world."
Hearing Jiraiya's response, Ryosuke felt a wave of quiet disappointment.
"The man I fought… wore a black cloak embroidered with red clouds."
His tone was calm, but the implications were not. There was no longer a reason to withhold the truth.
"He didn't look like someone from Kirigakure. No forehead protector, no village emblem. Nothing to prove his origin."
"Black robe… red clouds?"
Jiraiya's face visibly tensed. His palms clenched unconsciously on the table.
"Was he wearing a wooden mask?"
He lifted a hand, drawing a circular pattern in the air. "With spiral carvings?"
"No."
Ryosuke shook his head. "The one I fought had a thick, muscular build and a horn-like hairstyle. He didn't use ninjutsu—only pure taijutsu. He had no chakra, at least not in the traditional sense."
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he recalled the sensation.
"But there was something strange. It was like… someone else was clinging to him. A second presence—slimy, like a leech. It clung to him, compensating for his lack of chakra, allowing him to use Wood Release."
He didn't say more than necessary. There was no mention of other worlds, of Devil Fruits, of the Navy's Six Styles. He kept the details vague, focusing only on what Jiraiya needed to know.
The being he fought—Blueno—was clearly not native to this world. And the one merged with him, who exhibited Wood Release, could only be White Zetsu.
When Jiraiya heard that White Zetsu could use Mokuton, his eyes sharpened with interest, but he said nothing right away.
Instead, he carefully asked about every detail—combat habits, visual traits, any hint of origin. When he finished taking mental notes, he stood abruptly, thanked Ryosuke again, and made to leave in haste.
It was clear he was returning to the Hokage Tower to convene a high-level meeting immediately.
Ryosuke walked him to the door, but just as he was about to leave, Jiraiya stopped, as if remembering something.
"I just thought of something," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "While I haven't met the man you described… there are others. Not many, but a few individuals I met during my travels. People who don't rely on chakra but still possess strange powers—sometimes powerful, sometimes just… peculiar."
He paused, nostalgic. "It was several years ago. One afternoon in the Land of Iron..."
---
Once Jiraiya left, Ryosuke quietly returned to his room. He ignored the housekeeper calling out behind him, asking about lunch.
(What is the name of the housekeeper again?)
"Later."
He didn't even wait to hear the reply. As soon as he reached his room, he shut the door behind him—hard.
Bang.
He let out a long breath as he slid down against the wooden door and sat on the floor.
The mask of calm he wore cracked. Excitement surged in his chest, almost overwhelming.
I was right.
There were others—Blueno wasn't alone. And more importantly, they weren't all from the same place.
This world… wasn't just attracting people from the world of One Piece.
It was bigger than that.
Unable to hold it in, Ryosuke bit the middle knuckle of his index finger to calm himself, steadying his mind through pain.
Jiraiya's words echoed in his mind—an old memory of a group of strangers he encountered in the Land Of Iron.
A silver-haired man with a lazy demeanor and a wooden sword. A bespectacled boy with a forgettable face. A young girl with tremendous strength and no social filter. And… a giant white dog.
The moment Ryosuke heard that description, he knew. His upgraded memory systems, fine-tuned through multiple transformations, recalled it clearly.
Sakata Gintoki. Shimura Shinpachi. Kagura of the Yato clan. And the oversized Inugami, Sadaharu.
Characters from a world as chaotic as it was comedic. And now… apparently living anonymously in the Land of Iron.
"They're not like Blueno," Ryosuke muttered, processing the intel. "Gintoki and his friends… their personalities are at least somewhat wholesome. They should be easier to approach."
But even so, the strength of their world was absurd.
A wooden sword that could knock out a space battleship. Death by bleeding hemorrhoids. Fourth-wall breaks and nonsense physics.
But… that was fictional knowledge from his past life. Now, the rules were real.
"This isn't a comedy manga anymore," he muttered, slowly standing. "This is their reality now—and mine."
He calmed himself. The excitement was good—but uncontained, it was dangerous.
"There's no way they haven't realized they're in the Naruto world," he reasoned. "Unless the versions of their world they came from didn't include Naruto."
That was a real possibility. After all, not every alternate world has access to the same pop culture.
Which raised more questions.
How long have they been here? Why are they laying low? What do they know?
Jiraiya's description suggested that they hadn't stirred up much attention. Even their mission work in the Land of Iron was low-profile and unimpressive. No headlines. No battles. Just odd jobs.
"Deliberate concealment… or just biding their time?"
Whatever the case, Ryosuke couldn't afford to delay.
The existence of Gintoki and his crew proved two crucial things:
The multiverse leak didn't start recently—it had likely been going on for years.
The number of arrivals was still small, and very few had reached the Land of Fire.
And more importantly, these outsiders weren't trying to seize power. They blended in. Hid their strength. Took side roles in a world built for shinobi.
Maybe it was fear. Or caution. Or maybe… they were waiting.
"Either way…" Ryosuke murmured, his eyes narrowing, "…I need answers."
Answers that could only be found in the Land of Iron.
"If I can extract information from them—anything about world travel, system interference, or interdimensional cracks—it could push my training to the next tier before my next transformation cycle begins."
And that… could make the difference between being prepared—or overwhelmed—when the next invader arrived.
Ryosuke opened the door, eyes cold, expression calm.
He was composed again, entirely focused.
But he didn't leave immediately.
Before making any move, he needed to discuss the plan with his family.
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