The sound of birds chirping drifted through the morning air. Sunlight cut through the leaves, striking his eyes and blurring his fading vision with a sharp glare. It stung a little—but the other senses made up for it. The feel of the wooden porch beneath him. The familiar scent of Konoha's trees.
It almost made the flashbacks bearable.
The memories of the children he'd slaughtered in these streets.
Almost.
"You want us to do nothing?"
Itachi blinked, pulled back into the present. Sasuke sat across from him, his expression twisted with restrained fury. He had not taken the truth of their clan's downfall well. At first, he hadn't believed Itachi—he'd attacked him repeatedly, desperately, furiously. He'd failed, of course. And after one last confrontation—a one-sided screaming match with Sasuke pouring out years of rage while Itachi stood silent—they had parted ways for the night.
Now, on the porch, the morning light between them, Sasuke was calmer. Quieter. And Itachi had told him everything.
"It was one man, Sasuke," Itachi said evenly. "We cannot punish the village for the actions of one man."
"The elders were just men too! Did the women and children deserve to die for their actions?" Sasuke growled, nearly shouting. For once, Itachi was grateful for how secluded the Uchiha compound remained.
"It is the way of the world, Sasuke," Itachi began, his voice slipping into the familiar cadence he once used when teaching his younger brother as a child.
The way Sasuke's posture shifted—straightening ever so slightly at the tone—made something twist in Itachi's chest. It was enough to make him want to rip out his own heart and lay it before his brother in penance.
"The children could have been spared," he continued. "But such a secret could not be held forever. One day, they would learn the truth. They would remember their families, what was done to them—and they would hate. Just as you hate. And would they spare the children of the Leaf? Maybe. But that risk could not be taken."
He paused, voice heavy.
"Danzo's actions damned the Uchiha. Annihilation or the faint hope of forgiveness were the only paths left. And forgiveness…"
He trailed off, then said, "It is not the way of shinobi to trust in man's better nature."
"So, for the safety of generations to come… children died?" Sasuke said, his voice low. "You murdered them so others wouldn't have to die later?"
Itachi didn't speak.
"That doesn't justify it," Sasuke hissed. "Those are reasons, not justifications! I want justice."
"It sounds to me," Itachi said, his Sharingan activating with a soft whir of chakra, "like you want vengeance."
He needed to see his brother's face clearly.
What he saw broke his heart and buoyed his spirit at the same time.
The look in Sasuke's eyes—burning, rabid hatred—was horrifying. And yet, within that fury, Itachi saw strength. The strength to survive, to grow, to become powerful enough to avenge, to protect. That fire—it meant Sasuke could do it. He could one day defeat even him.
For a moment, Sasuke flinched. The red glow of his brother's eyes stirred old trauma, shaking the seven-year-old boy that still lived inside him. He looked like he might break again. But then he clenched his jaw, his eyes sharpening. One tomoe spun in each eye, and he held Itachi's gaze.
"…What if I do want vengeance?" Sasuke whispered. "Will you kill me? Finish the job?"
Itachi stared at him.
"No. Never," he said. "But I will stop you."
"And what if you can't?" Sasuke said. There was no hesitation in his voice. Only certainty—that one day, he would surpass his brother.
Itachi didn't doubt him.
"Then I die," he said flatly.
Sasuke blinked in surprise. Before he could respond, Itachi reached out, placing a hand gently on his head. Sasuke's eyes widened. Then Itachi pulled him forward until their foreheads touched.
"I have failed you too greatly, Otouto," he whispered. "If I must die to protect your soul, so be it. But I will never harm you again."
Sasuke trembled, fists clenched.
And for the first time in four long years, Sasuke Uchiha leaned into his elder brother's embrace—and wept.
XXXXXXXXX
"So, you got a name?" Naruko asked, peering down at the small monkey cradled in my arms. Kuro watched him with quiet curiosity, while Hinata looked like she was about to explode from cuteness overload.
"H-Himebuta," the little monkey stammered, his voice high-pitched and trembling, almost toddler-like.
"Awwww! Look at you! You're so cute!" Naruko squealed, clutching her twin ponytails in glee.
"…I guess we're partners now. Nice to meet you, Himebuta. My name is Izuku," I said, smiling down at him.
"Nice to meet you, Izuku-sama." He stood on my thighs and bowed, formal despite the quiver in his limbs.
"Oh! Here. Lord Enma told me to give you this." He reached behind his back and unstrapped the scroll tied there, rolling it open to reveal a wide array of seals. With a flare of chakra and a puff of smoke, he summoned a staff.
It was beautiful.
The two ends of the staff gleamed like they'd been dipped in gold, intricate engravings danced along the surface—fuinjutsu, no doubt. The middle was polished, burnished wood, deep and rich in color. At either end were small cylindrical slots, clearly meant to house something specific.
Mesmerized, I reached out and gripped the wooden center—and gasped. The senjutsu chakra within it leapt to my touch, far more eager and active than the usual ki-wood I worked with.
Did.. did lord Enma get me a familiar specced into artifice?
…I take it back. Lord Enma is the best.
"You made this?" I asked in awe.
"It—it was part of my test. To see if I was worthy of serving you, Lord Izuku… and to represent the Mountain in the outside world. Do… Do you like it?" There was pride in his chakra, a deep love for the Mountain—but also a pain buried beneath it. And now, as he awaited my answer, fear.
"Like it? I love it!" I said, raising the staff overhead to examine it in the light.
"Himebuta, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."
"That staff looks so cool," Naruko breathed beside me, eyes wide in wonder.
"Want one?"
"Nah. These bad boys—" she flexed her skinny arms, pecking her biceps "—and a few kunai are all I need."
"Not even a sword?" I asked, just to be sure she wasn't trying to avoid being a burden.
"…Maybe a sword," she admitted, blushing under my insistent gaze.
"I would be more than glad to help," Himebuta said, his voice steadier now, though still tinged with nervousness.
Naruko let out a delighted squeal and snatched him out of my lap, immediately launching into a monologue about swords—how big they should be, how cool they looked, how she wanted one like a hero in a movie. No surprise there.
Meanwhile, I continued studying the staff. Whatever Himebuta had done to the ki-wood, it drastically enhanced the range and sensitivity of my chakra senses—at least doubling them.
"I see Enma has returned your… property," a familiar voice said calmly.
"Hokage-sama!" Hinata jumped in surprise.
"Jiji!" Naruko jumped at our intruder to give him a hug.
"Hokage-sama." Kuro acknowledged him calmly, her chakra showed she was just as surprised at my sensei's sudden appearance. She was just a good actor.
I didn't even flinch. I had sensed Sensei's arrival long before he spoke. I handed him the staff as he approached, Naruko dangling from his shoulders.
"Yes, he did," I replied.
"Good, good," he said, turning the staff over in his hands. He had been particularly protective of me since the encounter—visiting every day, ensuring my safety, likely keeping at least one shadow clone nearby at all times, not to mention whatever ANBU were on surveillance duty.
Speaking of ANBU—I hadn't seen Kakashi in a while. I wonder how he's doing.
"This is exceptionally well made. What are these empty slots for?" my sensei asked, placing Naruko down and patting her head, before sitting in a chair that appeared in a puff of smoke. Most likely from a seal in his robes.
I stared at it in surprise and he smiled back calmly. Old man was stealing my drip, I respected the wizardry. If you thought something was cool, copy it, originality was overrated.
"Oh! That's for a personal seal." Himebuta explained. He reached into his belt and pulled out a strip of small wooden rods, each one or two inches long, and inserted one into the staff.
With a pulse of chakra, the staff lit up like a torch. A fuinjutsu flash light.
I inspected it again with my chakra sense and was struck by something ingenious. I popped off the caps at either end of the inserted rod and unrolled the tiny scroll hidden inside. The fuinjutsu etched within glowed faintly. When rolled back up, the edges of the scroll aligned to form a functional seal on the outer ring—tiny slits of ink forming a script only visible with enhanced perception.
"Three-dimensional seals," I breathed.
"Really?" my Sensei said, taking another scroll to inspect it more closely.
"Incredible," he murmured, watching Himebuta now with far more interest—and no small amount of calculation. He quickly masked it, though.
"But as impressive as this is, we can return to it at a later date. Izuku, I'd like you to meet someone."
"Who—?"
"From the north to the south and the east to the west! Not even the spirits can defeat this Sannin!" a dramatic voice interrupted. The lights dimmed. A spotlight fell on the center of the room.
What?
"The white-maned toad charmer! A red-hot ninja who strikes fear into the hearts of men! Master Jirayahahaha!"
A puff of smoke exploded as a tall man with wild white hair appeared—red coat, grey gi, red geta sandals. He stood atop a large toad.
"Izuku," Sensei said, deadpan, "this is your senpai—Jiraiya."
"Yes, bask in the greatness—"
"Lame," Naruko cut in, arms crossed, unimpressed.
"Oi! Toads are cool!"
"Yeah, they are."
"I'm glad you understand."
"But you're lame."
"Ugh!"
XXXXXXXXX
"So wait… that's really all there is to it?" I asked, still processing.
"You say that like it's easy to learn how to stay so still your heart stops beating and achieve Jonin-level chakra reserves," Jiraiya pouted, lips jutting like a sulking teen.
My theory continues to gain weight: all powerful ninja are unhinged in some way.
Come to think of it, my sensei is unusually normal.
I glanced at Sensei suspiciously. He met my gaze with a warm, innocent smile.
I'm watching you, old man.
"So all you need to do is sit still and have a lot of chakra? That sounds easy," Naruko said, narrowing her eyes skeptically.
Jiraiya gasped, scandalized, and launched into a dramatic explanation of how hard sage training really was. According to him, it was grueling—but honestly? It didn't sound as difficult as I expected. Not compared to, say, mastering the Five Disciplines for early Ki sensing as depicted in D&D.
What he described could be achieved in a few years if you had the chakra and control. Half a decade at most. The real obstacle wasn't difficulty—it was time.
And that… made too much sense.
Shinobi didn't live long. Most didn't make it past forty. That meant every technique was a tool—something to be mastered quickly, used efficiently, and discarded when necessary.
Spending years meditating to master Sage Mode? Fatal waste of time. Your enemies weren't meditating—they were getting better at killing.
That's why so few knew Senjutsu. Only the rare, gifted few could learn it fast enough to make it viable.
In other words, ninjas weren't scholars. Big surprise.
They should be, though. Because mastery of magic demands deep study. My sensei was proof—an old man in a young man's game who survived by being the smartest in the room.
Which also meant… I wasn't learning Sage Mode. Not exactly. It might be a step in my journey, but what I was building with Natural Energy was something else entirely.
Imagine reducing external magic to glorified ninja steroids.
Barbarians.
One day, when my wizard tower pierces the heavens and my acolytes number in the thousands, I'll show them all. Until then—smile and nod, Izuku. Smile and nod.
"I'm sure it is very difficult, Jiraiya-sama. I'm sure you worked hard."
Jiraiya puffed up proudly, running a hand through his wild mane. "Damn right I did, kid! Maybe if you worked half as hard, you wouldn't have gotten your butt kicked. Hahaha!"
I smirked faintly. It was clearly meant as a joke—just not a very good one.
The girls didn't see it that way.
"Oi! Don't talk about things you know nothing about!"
"Oh yeah? What do you know, Miss Dead Last?"
The silence that followed was absolute.
A month ago, Naruko might've barked back, buried the hurt under bravado. But she didn't do that now. I watched her chakra—the pathways she used to bury pain flare briefly, then calm.
She let herself feel it.
Then, wordlessly, she turned and walked over to the bed, crawled under the sheets, and curled up beside me.
Two very unhappy doujutsu users glared at Jiraiya, their eyes glowing faintly.
Jiraiya looked shocked. His chakra echoed a note of confusion, even guilt. A failed expectation, maybe? He bounced back quickly, but that ripple of regret was real. His chakra had a strange texture—like it wanted to disappear into the background. Probably a result of his sage training.
"Wow, kid. That's all you got?" he said, taunting.
Naruko ignored him.
"You're gonna have to toughen up. The world's not kind—"
"Jiraiya," Sensei said, voice firm now, heavy with warning.
That one word silenced the room.
Jiraiya scowled, then scoffed. "Whatever. Call me when you're ready to be ninja."
And just like that, the Toad Sannin strode out of the room.
Wow. What an ass.
XXXXXXXXX
Jiraiya let out a long sigh as he exited the hospital.
That… had been a disaster.
He'd misread Naruko's personality by a mile. Not unusual, honestly—he was great at a lot of things: decent teacher, phenomenal author, world-class spymaster. Heck he was damn near psychic when he was reading a mark, but handling people who actually mattered?
Yeah. Not his strong suit.
This was why he kept his distance. Why he avoided getting too close. Why he didn't let himself stay.
Now, his sensei wanted him—him, in all his catastrophic glory—to go and convince Tsunade to come back to the village.
He ran a hand down his face.
Man, he needed a drink.
But first, he had to deal with his little stalker.
"You're a lifetime too early to fool me with genjutsu like that, kid."
The air shimmered behind him as the little Uchiha girl emerged, dispelling the illusion. He'd sensed her from the start. Sage senses were difficult to deceive.
She said nothing. Just stood there with that flat stare and those glowing, uncanny eyes.
Yep. Definitely an Uchiha. You could've swapped her features with Fugaku's eldest and no one would notice the difference.
"A lot of people are mean to Ko-chan," she said softly, tone disturbingly even. "For reasons I don't know. Reasons she's not ready to tell. People are mean to Ku-kun too. Some because of how he acts, others because they want something from him. Ko-chan either ignores them or plays a prank. Ku-kun usually doesn't even notice—he's too focused, too deep in his head. But I notice."
Her expression didn't change, but her chakra sharpened at the edges.
"I notice every time. And I don't like it."
Jiraiya didn't like it either. But he'd be a poor spymaster if he gave anything away—especially to a kid. So he defaulted to old habits: provoke, observe, extract.
"So what're you gonna do about it?"
He expected anger. Or self-righteousness. Maybe even a tear or two.
Instead, she smiled.
A wide, toothy, very feline smile.
Ah. That tracks. She was crazy.
"A wager."
"Oh?" he asked, raising a brow.
"You win, and I won't bother you again."
"I could just say no."
"And I could submit a 400,000 ryo mission request to have every hot spring within ten miles of the village permanently guarded," she replied, still smiling. "I'm… aware of your proclivities, Jiraiya-sama."
He froze.
"…You wouldn't dare."
Her grin widened. That was answer enough.
"…Alright, kid. What's the bet?"
"I'll cast a genjutsu. One Ku-kun made—so I'm sure it'll be easy for someone of your caliber. If you break out in under five minutes, you win. And I'll sponsor a personal tour of the finest brothels in the Land of Fire."
Jiraiya had opened his mouth to refuse on principle. It snapped shut fast.
He let out a slow, thoughtful, very perverted chuckle.
"Ohoho… now that's more like it. Alright, hit me."
"And if you lose?" she asked sweetly.
"I won't."
"If you lose," she continued, "you'll take Ko-chan as your student. You'll answer her questions truthfully and follow her orders. For one month."
His smile faltered.
"That's a lot to stake on one little genjutsu, kid."
"Scared?"
Jiraiya gave her a long, deadpan stare.
But the brothels of the Land of Fire called to him.
"…Fine. Lay it on me."
"Gladly," the girl whispered.
Her Sharingan lit up—bright, vivid, spinning.
Jiraiya didn't blink. He didn't fear the Sharingan. Not even Itachi had been able to catch him in a genjutsu without the element of surprise. This would be easy money.
Then her chakra screamed—twisting into a spiraling vortex around her iris, her tomoe spinning so fast they formed a ring. He felt it in his bones.
"…Chitose no Kokai," she hissed.
The forest around them echoed the name.
Jiraiya's limbs locked.
His body stiffened so fast and so completely that for one terrifying moment, he thought it had worked.
He had to pulse his chakra twice before the paralysis shattered.
Twice.
He stared at the girl, then at his own hands.
What the hell was his sensei feeding these kids?
"Nice try, kid. Better luck next time, I'll be sending your father the bill." he said, forcing a casual chuckle as he turned and walked into the night.
Behind him, the Uchiha girl stood silent, crimson eyes spinning as she watched him go.
Still smiling.
XXXXXXXXX
Konoha was gone.
Jiraiya sat at the center of a massive crater—what was left of his home.
The past few years had been hell. The war alone was devastating, but everything truly spiraled when Nagato began capturing the Tailed Beasts and killing their Jinchūriki. That's when it all fell apart.
Then Sensei died.
Then his little kōhai.
Then Naruko.
So much loss. So many people gone. And he blamed himself for all of it.
A shadow moved.
"It's symbolic, don't you think? That our final dance would be held here."
Jiraiya looked up at the thing that had hunted down everyone he ever loved. The irony was unbearable—because the first person it destroyed had been itself.
Tsunade stood before him.
But it wasn't Tsunade.
Her once-blonde hair now flowed like ink, pitch-black and gleaming. One eye shimmered with a serpentine gold, the other a purple Rinnegan, its concentric rings glowing with power and madness.
"The place where it all started," she said. "The place where you were born. A fitting place to die."
Jiraiya said nothing. He just looked at her—the living monument to all his failures. Every mistake. Every moment he chose distance over love. Jokes over truth. Every chance he had to stop what came next—and didn't.
This monster standing before him… was born from the shattered remains of three people he had cherished more than life:
His greatest friend.
The love of his life.
One of his most precious students.
"Can't even summon the will to respond? Oh well. All good things come to an end."
She raised her hand, medical chakra flaring to life, forming a scalpel of pure energy.
Then she drove it into his chest.
Jiraiya didn't move.
The wet crunch of bone shattering and organs rupturing filled the air as blood sprayed out across the ash-covered earth.
"Nothing?" she asked, digging her fingers deeper, stirring his insides like she expected a reaction. "You truly are broken, aren't you?"
Still, he said nothing.
But then... she noticed.
She tried to pull back—but it was too late.
"What are you doing?" she snarled.
Seals spread across his body, glowing from within. They reached up and out—binding them together.
Jiraiya didn't speak. He just stilled his breathing, reached into the quiet of the world, and let the energy flow through him. The stone crept upward, starting at his feet.
"What are you doing?! STOP!"
"This means nothing! I'll return! I always return! My power is too great! They'll all—!"
Her voice cracked.
"…Jiraiya, please… don't you still love me?"
"Please."
He pulled her closer, this abomination born of his regrets, his mistakes, his love—and held her as he wept.
And as the last of the stone turned his tears to crystal, the two of them—Sannin and monster—became still.
If there was a next life, he would not make the same mistakes.
…
…
…
Jiraiya gasped awake, body trembling, breath ragged.
He lay on the forest floor, disoriented, heart pounding. His limbs felt whole—but unfamiliar. He blinked the tears from his eyes and looked up—
—into the glowing red Sharingan of a demon pretending to be a girl.
"You lose," she said sweetly. "I expect you at Naruko's apartment first thing tomorrow, Jiraiya-sama. I would be very disappointed if you defaulted on our agreement."
Then she skipped away.
Jiraiya lay there, stunned and silent.
And then—he laughed.
He laughed and laughed, deep and guttural, until his ribs ached and tears blurred his vision again. He rolled onto his side, hauled himself upright, and stumbled off in the opposite direction.
He needed a drink.
Or twelve.