Less than half a month later.
In the Land of Birds, at the Yorozuya's first base of operations, Finn sat in a chair with a piece of paper in his hand and a look on his face like he'd bitten into something sour.
Kakuzu was across the room counting money. He looked extremely content.
Sasori sat at a table in the corner, silent, whatever was moving behind his eyes staying there.
"Didn't anyone have a better idea?" Finn turned the paper over, as if checking the back for a different answer. "I've been wielding obvious, dramatic dark powers this whole time. 'Lord of Darkness.' 'Son of Eternal Night.' Even 'Dark Emperor' would have been acceptable. Something with weight to it." He set the paper down. "But no. What do I get?"
Kakuzu glanced over from his counting. "Outlaw Rodriguez Finn. S-rank wanted criminal across the entire ninja world. Bounty of five hundred million ryo." He turned back to his stacks with a smile that didn't quite fit on his face. "Doesn't sound so bad to me."
It was true that the Yorozuya had conducted the daimyo mission with complete and deliberate visibility. No concealment, no misdirection. They had walked in, done the work, and left their name on it. The story spread fast.
Killed the Third Raikage. Single-handedly held back an Iwagakure army. Then killed the Daimyo of the Land of Earth inside his own castle without bothering to hide his face. The sheer audacity of it had done as much damage to his reputation as the acts themselves.
Rodriguez Finn was now a name the ninja world knew.
He just didn't particularly like what they'd done with it.
Titles like "God of Shinobi," "Yellow Flash," "Ninja Hero," "Demigod" — all of them carried gravity, poetry, something that announced what kind of person had walked into the room. And what had they given him? Outlaw. Like he was some bandit who'd knocked over a sake cart.
"Why are neither of you on this list?" Finn asked, looking between the two of them. "All three of us were there."
Kakuzu paused his counting briefly, genuinely considering the question. Then he shrugged and went back to his money. He didn't seem particularly bothered either way.
Finn stared at the paper a moment longer, then set it down.
Kakuzu looked over his shoulder again, his moss-green eyes resting on Finn with an expression that was difficult to read and probably shouldn't have been as calculating as it was. "Speaking of which," he said, in a tone of complete sincerity, "if you ever grow tired of existence after a few too many centuries, I hope you'll let me be the one to send you off."
"What?" Finn's voice went flat.
"Five hundred million ryo," Kakuzu said, with the quiet reverence of a man discussing something holy.
Before Finn could work up a proper response, Sasori spoke without looking up from the table. "Setting that aside. What's the actual plan? We have a name now. People are paying attention."
Finn was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Sasori, you're on Rain Country watch. Keep an eye on how the situation there develops. Kakuzu..." he paused. "While our name carries weight, take whatever missions come in. Anything you can handle on your own, handle it. Don't pull us in unless you have to."
"Fine," Kakuzu said. He genuinely didn't mind. The arrangement was reasonable, and the missions would pay.
"And you?" Sasori asked.
"We need more people," Finn said. He leaned back in the chair. "Four members, and one of them isn't even here most of the time. That's not an organization, that's a dinner party."
He turned the problem over in his head. Even counting Orochimaru, the Yorozuya had four people. Orochimaru operated independently and showed up when it suited him. The actual working roster was thin.
"Let me be clear about something," Sasori said, before Finn could continue. "Don't bring anyone mediocre through that door."
"Agreed," Kakuzu said, not looking up.
Finn nodded. He felt the same way. The problem was the inventory. He ran through what he knew.
Kannabi Bridge had already happened. The outcome hadn't deviated from what he'd expected — there had been some differences in the details, but nothing that changed the essential shape of things. Which meant that somewhere, right now, Uchiha Obito was being pulled out of the rubble by Uchiha Madara and was beginning the slow, terrible process of adapting to a body assembled from White Zetsu material.
Finn gave that thread a pass. Obito had real talent — his first Sharingan activation had gone straight to double tomoe, and the Mangekyo had followed the same pattern, bypassing intermediate stages entirely. That was genuinely impressive by any measure. But he was currently in Madara's hands, half a body, and thoroughly brainwashed in the making. Not a viable prospect for anything Finn had in mind.
As for Akatsuki itself — he'd already pulled the best of them. Kakuzu, Sasori, Orochimaru. The remaining roster was, by comparison, thinner talent.
The one exception was Hoshigaki Kisame. But Kisame was still an active Hidden Mist operative, loyal to his village in his own complicated way. There was no reasonable path to recruitment right now. That door was closed.
Finn let the problem rest. No obvious answer was presenting itself, and forcing the issue wouldn't produce one.
"Let's move," he said, stroking his chin. "Get out of the Land of Birds for a while. I've been meaning to go to Konoha anyway, and I want to see what Orochimaru's current situation looks like. See how close he is to breaking."
Orochimaru had contacts and a network that no one else in the organization could match. If there were suitable people worth recruiting who weren't already on Finn's list, Orochimaru would know where to look.
And then there was Danzo Shimura.
Finn's thinking slowed on that name. The old man was not a good person. He knew that clearly, without any romanticism about it. But there was something about how Danzo operated — the long vision, the willingness to make ugly calculations and act on them, the infrastructure he'd built over decades — that Finn found genuinely interesting. A man who saw the board from that far out, who'd maintained his position and his resources through the tenure of three Hokage, was the sort of person worth at least one conversation.
They were more alike than Danzo would have been comfortable knowing.
And it had been too long since he'd seen Konoha. Years in the ninja world, and he'd never once walked through that village. It was beginning to feel like an oversight.
At that same moment, in the Land of Fire, inside the Hokage Building in Konoha, Sarutobi Hiruzen was looking at the group assembled before him with a serious expression.
The room was, by any measure, a remarkable concentration of lineage.
At the top: Sarutobi Hiruzen, Third Hokage.
His student: Jiraiya, one of the Legendary Sannin.
Jiraiya's student: Namikaze Minato.
And Minato's students: Hatake Kakashi and Nohara Rin, both present and quiet.
Four generations in one room, and the mood was not light.
"We'll leave Obito's matter here," Hiruzen said. His voice was measured, but something behind it wasn't. He had given Uchiha Obito a hero's treatment without hesitation — the name was on the memorial stone now, where it would remain. The boy had earned it, and Hiruzen had liked him in the particular way he liked rare things, which was quietly and without making a production of it. "He wouldn't want you to stay in that grief. Kannabi Bridge was a victory, but the war isn't finished. We can't let our guard down."
He paused, letting that settle, then moved on.
"Now. Jiraiya. Your return wasn't expected. Tell me about the Land of Earth."
"I was at the Daimyo's castle when it happened," Jiraiya said. Blunt as always.
Minato, standing nearby, glanced over with visible interest. "The outlaw? You were there?"
"Yes."
"Did you see him?" Hiruzen leaned forward slightly. "Does he match the portrait?"
Jiraiya thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. Not really."
"Explain."
"The Hidden Rock's portrait is too harsh. Too much savagery in it — I think whoever drew it was working from fear and filled in the gaps with their imagination. The features are conservative. The temperament it suggests is completely wrong." Jiraiya crossed his arms. "In person, he looks like the son of a very wealthy family who made some interesting life choices."
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed. "Which implies you had more than a passing look at him."
Jiraiya scratched the back of his head. "We, ah. We shared drinks at Kaseigai for three days. I didn't know who he was at the time. So — yes, I know what he looks like."
Hiruzen was quiet for a moment.
"His bearing is nothing like the bounty posters would suggest," Jiraiya continued. "Extravagant clothes, refined accessories, completely at ease. Generous company. When he killed the daimyo, there was apparently some effort made to minimize civilian casualties. He doesn't read as a man who kills for pleasure." He paused. "And after we fought, he didn't try to finish it. He wasn't interested in killing me."
"You fought him," Hiruzen said. It wasn't a question.
"I did."
"And?"
Jiraiya was quiet for a few seconds. It was not an easy silence to watch.
"He's the strongest opponent I've encountered. Without exception. I don't think Hanzo — even at his peak, even when they called him a demigod — I don't think Hanzo reaches this man's level. I used Sage Mode. It didn't change the outcome."
The room sat with that for a moment.
Hiruzen muttered, almost to himself, "A kind-hearted man who kills a sitting head of state." He turned it over. What he found even harder to set aside was that Jiraiya — who did not speak carelessly about strength — had just placed this person above every benchmark Hiruzen held as reliable.
The ninja world's picture of Rodriguez Finn was still rough around the edges. The Hidden Rock confirmed he'd killed the Third Raikage and driven back their army, but the interpretation had always been that he'd exploited the terrain and the chaos. The daimyo assassination had established audacity more than raw capability.
Jiraiya had just redrawn the picture entirely.
When had this man appeared? Where had he come from? And why — given that he apparently knew Jiraiya's identity, had fought him, and had let him walk away — why did Jiraiya's entire account read like a quiet defense of him?
"Don't repeat any of that outside this room," Hiruzen said. Finn's reputation in the wider world was fully criminal. Speaking in his defense would invite the wrong kind of attention onto Jiraiya, and onto Konoha by extension.
Jiraiya shrugged, which was not quite agreement but wasn't refusal either.
Minato stepped forward, something lit up in his expression. "Sensei Jiraiya — could you tell me more about him? Just — the discrepancy you're describing is striking. What does he actually look like?"
Jiraiya looked at his student for a moment. A faint, complicated expression passed across his face.
"I've always thought you were exceptionally good-looking, Minato," he said. "I want you to know I mean that sincerely." Another pause. "He's better-looking than you. The main difference between the portrait and the real person is that the portrait somehow failed to capture how handsome he is."
Minato blinked.
He stood very still.
Hiruzen, already moving past it, said, "All right. The man is what he is. Unscrupulous, dangerous, and apparently possessed of some restraint toward Konoha — whether that's genuine goodwill or simple indifference, we can't say yet. The daimyo's death has indirectly eased our pressure in this war. He knew Jiraiya's identity and chose not to press the advantage. Until he gives us a direct reason to act, we leave him alone and don't go looking for him."
Jiraiya nodded. Then, as if remembering: "One more thing. He mentioned at some point that he's from the Land of Fire. Tansho Street, specifically."
Hiruzen raised an eyebrow.
"I don't know if it's true," Jiraiya said. "Could be deflection. Could be nothing."
"I'll have the Anbu look into it," Hiruzen said.