Chapter 511: Numbers
"That's strange... what could possibly be causing this?"
Inside the Hokage's office, Jiraiya sat behind his desk, eyes fixed on the report in front of him from Konoha Hospital, sinking deeper into thought with every line he read.
The report contained a figure he simply could not explain: over the past month, the number of confirmed pregnancies within Konoha had increased by nearly one hundred percent compared to the usual rate.
Double. It had literally doubled.
For any ninja village, population growth was of course a welcome development -- especially now, with peace growing more stable by the day and infant survival rates steadily climbing. More people meant more labor, more ninja in reserve, a more prosperous future.
But this growth rate was absurd.
Double? Just because of peace?
Jiraiya scratched at his already disheveled white hair and turned to the next page of the report, searching for some kind of explanation.
The next page did not ease his confusion. It made his frown deepen.
It was not only Konoha.
According to intelligence gathered by the ANBU, all four of the other Great Villages -- Sand, Cloud, Stone, and Mist -- were experiencing the same phenomenon. Pregnancy rates had surged several times over, by roughly the same margin as Konoha.
The entire ninja world was simultaneously gripped by a bizarre baby boom.
Jiraiya set the report down and leaned all the way back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling.
He had wandered the ninja world for decades. He had seen all manner of strange things, lived through countless wars and conspiracies. But a synchronized surge in births across every major village, all at once -- that was something he had never encountered before.
Could it be... that the souls in the afterlife saw the world finally at peace, and all decided to queue up for reincarnation?
The moment that thought surfaced, Jiraiya caught himself and almost laughed. He was joking, obviously. An afterlife? Souls waiting in line? That kind of mythological nonsense couldn't actually be real, could it?
The thought made one loop through his mind, then he shook it off.
Well, whatever. Overthinking this wasn't going to reveal the truth. And besides, a phenomenon like this was nothing but good news for the village. More people, a brighter future -- what was there to complain about?
Jiraiya scratched his head, tossed the report aside, and picked up the next document on his desk.
There was plenty of work left to get through today.
He glanced out the window at the sun's position and quietly set himself a small personal goal: tonight, he would try to leave after only three hours of overtime. He had been running on fewer than six hours of sleep for several consecutive days now.
If this kept up, the Fifth Hokage was going to go down in history as the first Hokage to die of overwork at his own desk.
That thought led to another.
Right -- the old man's birthday banquet was coming up.
The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi. The old fellow's birthday was almost here. As his student, and as the Fifth Hokage, Jiraiya had an obligation to prepare a proper gift.
But what?
What did the old man even like?
Jiraiya turned the question over in his mind for a long moment and came up with nothing.
The man had lived for decades. What hadn't he seen? What didn't he already have? Something ordinary felt cheap and half-hearted, but something extravagant would seem cold and transactional...
"Ah..."
Jiraiya let out a long sigh, dropped his pen on the desk, and went limp in his chair.
When was any of this going to let up.
----
At the border of the Land of Fire, in an unremarkable little village.
Neji Hyuga sat inside a plain roadside eatery, a plate of freshly made glutinous rice dumplings steaming in front of him, the warm, sweet smell rising gently into the air.
He had been on the road for several days. There was dust and a trace of dried mud along the hem of his white clothing, but his pale Byakugan eyes remained as clear as ever.
"There you are -- sorry for the wait. Please enjoy."
The elderly shopkeeper placed the last few dumplings on the plate with a kind smile, then turned and went back behind the counter.
Neji gave a small nod of thanks, picked up a bamboo skewer, and began to eat slowly.
This journey had been in the making since he was three years old.
Back then he had been too young for even the Academy -- too young to do anything but accept his father's death in a state of numb confusion. But he had held onto that day. He had remembered the figure that pulled him out of the darkness. He had remembered the fox mask.
From that moment forward, the idea had taken root inside him.
Wait until I grow up. Wait until I become strong. Wait until I can finally take that step.
Now, at last, he could. He was going to join the Ember organization.
It had always been his dream. His ambition. To become a comrade of that person. To stand at his side. To serve him. To put his own abilities to use for something that mattered -- just imagining that possibility made Neji feel a rush of excitement he could barely contain. It was a warmth that rose from somewhere deep inside and spread through his whole body.
As for what he had told his teammates -- that he was leaving to search for his father -- well, that had been a lie.
His father was certainly doing fine. That person would never neglect anyone who followed him. And his father had the privilege of remaining at that person's side, of continuing to offer his strength to him every day...
At that thought, Neji's gaze dimmed slightly.
He was a little envious. He lowered his head and ate his dumplings in silence, pressing that feeling back down where it belonged.
When the last dumpling was gone, he set down the skewer and reached into his pack.
He took out a fox mask.
It looked ordinary at first glance -- the kind sold at any festival stall. But if you looked carefully, you would notice a faint trace of chakra threaded through it, carrying with it a certain inexplicable weight.
The mask itself was not the source of it.
It was the one bound to it. That person had given it that quality simply by existing.
Neji held the mask in both hands and ran his thumb gently across the smooth surface. His touch was careful -- the kind of care reserved for the most precious things in the world.
In his pale eyes, at that moment, lived an emotion far softer than his usual expression would ever suggest.
Lord Menma... I'll be seeing you again very soon.
The thought completed itself quietly in his chest. After a long moment, Neji carefully wrapped the mask in cloth, tucked it back into his pack, and stood to leave.
"Excuse me, young man. If I could have a moment."
An old voice came from behind him.
Neji turned. The elderly shopkeeper had stepped out from behind the counter, and his expression had changed -- there was worry written across his weathered face.
"Is something the matter?" Neji asked, genuinely puzzled. He had already paid.
"Yes, well..." The old man lowered his voice as he approached. "Are you planning to cross the border?"
Neji's brow rose slightly. "...Yes."
"Then please -- be careful on the road."
"Careful?"
Neji's gaze sharpened. He had gathered quite a bit of information during his days on the road and hadn't heard anything about bandits or dangerous individuals operating in this area. Was there someone worth being wary of?
"Yes. Over near the border..." The shopkeeper hesitated, searching for the right words. "There is a strange man there."
"Strange how?"
"He... he does terrible things. Wicked things. If you happen to cross paths with him..." The old man's voice was grave. "Please don't listen to a word he says."