Tanzaku Town was alive with the hum of the crowd, the afternoon sun reflecting off the faces of the villagers.
"Ero-Sennin, what is up with you today? You're acting... creepy," Naruto asked, squinting his eyes and scratching the whiskers on his cheek. Jiraiya continued walking, his gaze fixed forward. He couldn't exactly tell the brat that the soul currently inhabiting this body found his predecessor's antics repulsive. To Kaito, efficiency and dignity were everything; the "Pervy Sage" persona was a stain on his professional record.
As they passed a high-end clothier, a vendor called out, "Sir! You have the frame of a nobleman. If you're looking for quality, the finest silks and cuts are right here!"
Jiraiya stopped. He looked down at his current attire the heavy scroll, the wooden sandals, the eccentric red vest. To a man who had spent his life in bespoke Italian suits and silk ties, this wasn't an outfit; it was a costume.
"Show me your black suits and formal overcoats," Jiraiya commanded, his voice cold and devoid of its usual raspy warmth.
"R-right away, sir! Please, come inside!"
Naruto stood on the sidewalk, his jaw dropping. "Hey! We're supposed to be looking for that Tsunade lady, not playing dress-up! And where are we gonna get the money for—"
Jiraiya ignored him and stepped into the shop. He spent ten minutes scanning the racks with the clinical eye of a CEO. Finally, he found a set that mirrored the authority of his previous life. He stepped into the changing room. Looking into the mirror, he traced the lines on his face. In his past two lives, he had never lived past thirty. Seeing a man in his fifties looking back felt wrong.
'System, apply the +10 Charm reward to my current status.'
[Confirmed. Host status updating...]
A subtle, shimmering light washed over his features. The deep, haggard lines of years of travel and stress softened. His jawline sharpened into a lethal edge, and his skin took on a healthy, polished glow. He now looked like a man in his mid-thirties—rugged, yet impossibly sophisticated. He untied his forehead protector, letting his long white hair spill over his shoulders in a controlled mane, and adjusted his collar.
When he stepped out, the shop went silent. The vendor dropped his measuring tape, and Naruto's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"Wha— Who— ERO-SENNIN?! What did you do to your face?! You look like a completely different person! Is this some kind of transformation jutsu?!"
Jiraiya adjusted his cufflinks, ignoring the boy's outburst. "How much?"
"Ah... for a gentleman of your stature... 10,000 Ryo," the vendor stammered, completely intimidated by the aura of power radiating from the man.
"Deal." Jiraiya produced the money with a flick of his wrist.
"Hey! That's way too much! We could buy a thousand bowls of ramen with that!" Naruto protested, waving his arms frantically.
Jiraiya looked down at Naruto's neon-orange jumpsuit. A vein throbbed in his temple. "Naruto, do you wish for me to purchase you a proper wardrobe?"
"Hmph! No way, Ero-Sennin! This tracksuit is the coolest thing in the world, dattebayo! It shows everyone I'm a ninja who isn't afraid of anything!"
A small frown creased Jiraiya's brow, but he didn't press the issue. "Let's move."
As they walked toward the casino, mature women on the street turned their heads, blushing furiously at the sight of the reformed Jiraiya. He remained indifferent. To him, romance was a useless variable, especially knowing he was destined to leave this world. The fewer ties he formed, the better.
He remembered his previous life. Aside from Himari and his employees, he had no one. 'What is she doing now?' Jiraiya mused silently. 'She's probably happy without me. She's likely already reunited with Yuito.'
It wasn't that he felt nothing for Himari. After two years, his heart had softened, but knowing their union was impossible, he had maintained his distance.
Ero-Sennin, did you say something?"
"No, Naruto. Let's pick up the pace. We can't afford to lose Tsunade's trail.
After twenty minutes of navigating the crowded streets, Jiraiya and Naruto arrived at the entrance of the primary casino. The heavy scent of tobacco and the frantic clatter of dice filled the air.
Inside, the crowd had formed a wide circle around a blonde woman who was currently berating the casino manager.
"You bastard! Are you suggesting I won't pay you back?!" Tsunade roared, her voice echoing off the gold-leafed ceiling.
The middle-aged manager wiped sweat from his brow with a trembling hand. "Tsunade-sama... please understand. You've already borrowed two million Ryo today. We simply cannot extend your credit any further!"
"Naniii?!" Tsunade slammed her fist onto the mahogany table, shattering it into splinters.
"Tsunade-sama, please! Let's just go back to the inn!" Shizune pleaded, grabbing her shoulder and trying to pull her away from the wreckage.
"Yo, Tsunade. Some things truly never change," a calm, voice cut through the chaos.
Tsunade whipped her head around. Standing there was a man in a sharp black suit and a tailored overcoat. His long white hair was gathered with effortless precision, and his face—devoid of its usual lecherous grin—carried the cold, absolute authority of a man who owned the room.
"Who the hell are you, bastard?" she snapped, squinting at him.
"Has it really been so long that you've forgotten your own teammate?" Jiraiya asked, his gaze level and piercing.
As he looked at her, Kaito's mind flashed through Jiraiya's memories. So, this is the woman the original Jiraiya loved his entire life. She was undeniably beautiful, but as Kaito looked into her amber eyes, he felt nothing but the professional detachment of a CEO evaluating a difficult asset.
"What... Jiraiya?" Tsunade's eyes widened. She stepped closer, scanning his face. The wrinkles were gone, replaced by a refined, sharp handsomeness she hadn't seen since their youth. "You old bastard... did you develop some forbidden jutsu to steal back your youth? You look... different."
"We should speak elsewhere," Jiraiya replied, ignoring the question. "We have important matters to discuss."
"Hmph. Fine. Let's go," she muttered, still suspicious.
"Jiraiya-sama, it is good to see you!" Shizune bowed respectfully, her eyes lingering on his new, polished appearance in shock. Jiraiya gave a curt, professional nod in return.
Tsunade then shifted her gaze to the blonde boy standing behind him. "And who is the brat?"
"His name is Naruto Uzumaki," Jiraiya stated simply.
Tsunade's expression clouded with a flicker of complex emotion. "So... this is the child."
Naruto, never one for subtlety, gave her a huge, toothy grin. "Nice to meet you, Granny!"
A vein instantly throbbed in Tsunade's temple. "You... you little brat! What did you just call me?!" She lunged forward, her fist connecting with the top of Naruto's head and sending him flying through the drywall.
Jiraiya felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck, a phantom memory of the original Jiraiya's broken ribs surfacing. However, Kaito's discipline took over.
"Enough. We are leaving," Jiraiya commanded.
Tsunade froze. The tone wasn't the usual playful banter of her old friend; it was a cold, authoritative command that demanded obedience. She stared at him, bewildered. "Jiraiya, seriously... what is wrong with you? You're acting like a damn Shogun."
"We will talk later," Jiraiya said. He reached into the hole in the wall, grabbed Naruto by the ankle, and dragged him out like a sack of potatoes.
Minutes later, the four of them were seated in a quiet, high-end restaurant, the tension thick enough to cut with a kunai.
Jiraiya leaned back, his posture perfectly straight, his eyes locking onto her eyes.
"Tsunade, return to Konoha. The village is in a state of transition, and it requires leadership. You are the only one for the position. Become the Fifth Hokage!"