A feeling of insignificance welled up in Kabuto's heart; it was as though his entire worldview had just been shattered.
He looked up at the sky, overcome by an inexplicable reverence, as if a supreme deity resided in the boundless heavens above.
"Hahaha, Kabuto, this is the allure of truth—the glimpse of the world's hidden reality!"
Orochimaru laughed heartily, his interest in Umbrella growing deeper by the moment.
Compared to the Akatsuki, it was this mysterious organization that captured his attention—for it possessed something he needed.
"Come, Kabuto. We'll investigate further later. For now, there's another matter we must resolve."
Orochimaru's voice turned cold, yet playful.
Kabuto adjusted his glasses and nodded, already aware of what his master was referring to.
Together, the two left the Sound Village office.
...
Elsewhere, in the Shinobi World…
At a hot spring in the Land of Hot Water, a white-haired old man sat soaking, reading a letter from his publisher.
For him, the most important thing was always the manuscript fee. After all, even a wandering sage needed money for food and travel.
Jiraiya tore the envelope open with casual ease. Inside was a letter and a passbook.
He had expected his earnings to be the same as always. Without the royalties from his books, he would have starved long ago; mission pay alone couldn't have sustained his lifestyle.
Beyond being a shinobi, Jiraiya also bore a more famous, if slightly notorious, title: he was one of the Shinobi World's best-selling authors.
He was the mind behind Icha Icha Paradise, the novel series that had swept across the nations.
But when Jiraiya looked at the balance recorded in the passbook, his expression froze.
"…How is this possible?"
He quickly unfolded the accompanying letter.
"Dear Mr. Jiraiya, it is with great regret that we must inform you…"
Jiraiya read it to the end in silence, his expression hardening. The publisher hadn't explained the cause of the sharp decline in sales, but his instincts told him something unusual was happening.
He rose from the hot spring with a splash, determination settling in. If nothing else, this gave him something new to investigate.
...
Back in Konoha…
On the training ground, Sakura waited impatiently for Kakashi to arrive.
What irritated her even more was that Naruto and Sasuke hadn't shown up either.
Just as her frustration peaked, the two boys finally came walking in, unhurried and late.
"What's wrong with you two? Kakashi-sensei told us to be here at six o'clock sharp!" Sakura scolded, hands on her hips.
Naruto grinned and fished out a pocket watch. "Relax! It's only eleven o'clock!"
Pocket watches were rare and expensive, but Sakura was too flustered to even question why Naruto had one.
"Eleven?! Do you realize how late you are already?!"
Her voice cracked with exasperation. She had been waiting like a fool all morning. First their sensei failed to appear, and now both her teammates were late as well.
At that moment, Sasuke's cool voice cut in: "You didn't even bother to gather information. Kakashi is your teacher, and you never looked into his habits?"
Sakura blinked in surprise.
"Kakashi-sensei is famous for being late," Sasuke continued flatly. "If you knew him, this wouldn't surprise you."
Sakura had no comeback. It was her own fault for not preparing.
On top of that, she realized belatedly that she hadn't even eaten breakfast, fearing Kakashi might catch her slacking if she left. Naruto and Sasuke, however, looked well-fed, with Naruto even sporting grease on his lips.
For the first time, Sakura felt like an outsider among her team.
The three of them waited in silence, Sakura's earlier excitement at being on a team with Sasuke quickly souring.
The chirping of birds filled the air when, at last, a white-haired figure appeared on the road ahead.
Sakura leapt to her feet, pointing an accusing finger. "Kakashi-sensei, you're late!"
Kakashi's lone visible eye curved in amusement as he glanced between Sakura's anger and Naruto and Sasuke's calm.
"I only told you to come early," he said with a chuckle. "I never promised I would."
Sakura bristled, her glare sharp enough to kill.
Kakashi clapped his hands. "Enough complaining. Today we'll play a little game. Whoever manages to snatch a bell from me will officially become my student."
"Wait—Kakashi-sensei!" Sakura interrupted, startled. "You only have two bells!"
"That's right! Only two bells!"
Kakashi's single visible eye narrowed, his tone suddenly turning cold. "Only two of you will pass. The one who fails will be sent back to the Academy."
Sakura's face went pale. Among the three of them, her skills were the weakest.
"Waaaah… I'll have to repeat a whole year of school!" she wailed, nearly in tears.
Naruto clenched his fists and shot her a serious look. "Sakura, you're missing the point. Kakashi-sensei isn't just testing strength. He's testing our teamwork—how much we value our comrades!"
He turned to their teacher. "Isn't that right, Kakashi-sensei?"
Though phrased as a question, Naruto's tone carried conviction.
Kakashi sighed, scratching his head. "You're right… but that doesn't mean you can skip the test entirely."
Relief flooded Sakura's face. Did that mean she wouldn't be left behind after all?
Kakashi's eye sharpened, his voice ringing with authority:
"Remember this—those who break the rules are trash. But those who abandon their comrades… are worse than trash."
His words cut through the air like steel, leaving the three Genin silent.
And so, Team 7 passed the assessment. Yet deep down, Kakashi felt a pang of helplessness. Naruto and Sasuke's potential already far exceeded what he alone could guide.
...
Meanwhile, elsewhere…
Jiraiya's investigation had led him across several towns. After days of following rumors, he discovered whispers of a suspicious cult-like group. Whether they truly were a cult still required confirmation.
In a small tavern, tucked away in a corner, a group of young men gathered.
One of them slapped a book onto the table. "I've made up my mind. I used to wander aimlessly, but from today on, I'll walk a new path. I'll share this book with all of you—it's a limited edition!"
The bold lettering on the cover read: Make-Out Paradise.
Another youth smirked. "So that's your so-called 'divine book'?"
The first man grinned and pulled a second volume from his coat. On its cover, in striking letters, was written: Umbrella Ideology.
"Hahaha! Sosuke, so you've finally come around. Welcome, new comrade. But forget that trashy novel—you won't be needing it anymore."
Another snickered.
"Yeah, he used to guard it like treasure. Ask him to lend it out, and he'd hide it better than anyone!"
Their laughter and chatter drifted across the tavern.
Jiraiya's eyes twitched as his gaze fell on the first book—the unmistakable cover of Make-Out Paradise.
The other book, however, remained obscured by shadows.
Could it be… another bestseller has appeared?
The thought sent a chill down his spine.
"Impossible… I wrote Make-Out Paradise after years of painstaking research. It's a true masterpiece of the human soul!"
And yet, doubt began to gnaw at him.
...
TN:
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