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Chapter 127n
🕑 Added 2025-08-12 20:28:07 +0000 UTCChapter 127n
2-in-1-chapter
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Before that, there was the matter he had nearly forgotten—why had Hiashi and Shikaku sought him out?
Hiashi glanced at Shikaku, signaling that it was his turn to speak.
“Because of certain disputes and lingering historical issues from not long ago, the state of the village is not good. Although we won the war against the Mist-nin, thanks to the Uchiha clan head’s efforts, the Mist were merely the first wolf to try biting a piece from us. The Cloud-nin and Stone-nin are stirring restlessly, and even the Sand-nin, who were nearly broken in the Third War, are becoming unsettled.”
Shikaku’s calm words peeled away the golden exterior of Konoha’s present state, revealing the frailty beneath.
“To face the greater crises that may soon come, the village intends to eliminate certain past failings and harmful policies, restoring the strength Konoha has lost. But before that, we need a strong leader whom everyone can trust. Lord Jiraiya, we hope you will succeed as the Fifth Hokage. This is our shared wish.”
Shikaku’s request was sincere. He was not foolish enough to ask Jiraiya directly whether he wanted the position—that would have been clumsy and far too crude.
“The Fifth Hokage?”
Jiraiya was momentarily taken aback.
Then he smiled wryly. “Today just keeps coming with surprises.”
“Wasn’t the Fifth Hokage supposed to be Elder Torifu?”
“Elder Torifu is only the acting Hokage, a temporary measure for special circumstances. And to be frank, he is no longer young. The position of Hokage is not an easy burden for him to carry,” Shikaku said, speaking with genuine intent to persuade Jiraiya to accept the title of Fifth Hokage.
Akimichi Torifu becoming Hokage was indeed a great honor for the Ino–Shika–Chō alliance of the Yamanaka, Nara, and Akimichi clans. However, after speaking with Torifu that day, Nara Shikaku, now thinking more clearly, felt that Torifu’s appointment might not be entirely a good thing. Even though he was still only acting Hokage, some among the three clans had already begun acting far more ostentatiously than before.
Rather than rising high only to fall later, Shikaku believed it would be better for the Ino–Shika–Chō alliance to avoid competing with the Uchiha or Hyūga for attention.
When he finished speaking, Shikaku held his breath and waited for Jiraiya’s reply.
“I’m sorry, Shikaku. I can’t give you a definitive answer for now. I need some time to think.” Jiraiya neither agreed nor refused outright, but instead chose to delay. “Please let Torifu know that I’ll be staying in the village for the time being. If he’s worried I’ll slip away without warning, he can send a few ANBU to keep an eye on me.”
Shikaku was a little surprised. He had thought that Jiraiya, so accustomed to wandering, would refuse outright. The fact that he was stalling—did that mean he might truly become the Fifth Hokage?
“I will pass along your words to Lord Torifu exactly as you’ve said them,” Shikaku replied in a deep voice.
“That’s fine then. Shikaku, Hiashi, go ahead and tend to your business. I’m going to take a walk through the village—gather some inspiration. It’s been so long since I’ve been back, I wonder if it’s still as beautiful as before.” Jiraiya’s words sounded light and casual, but from the angle Shikaku could not see, his face was heavy and solemn.
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While Jiraiya wandered the streets of Konoha gathering intelligence on the “Nine-Tails,” the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki walked with Rēn through the streets of Kirigakure, the boy gazing curiously at this ninja village so different from the Leaf.
The mist, like a thin veil draped before one’s eyes, was Kirigakure’s most distinctive feature.
The other was the stillness.
Before entering, they had looked down from a hilltop and seen that this village, in size, was not much smaller than Konoha. But whether because of martial law imposed for the Leaf delegation’s arrival or for some other reason, the streets of Kirigakure were cold and empty, with hardly a soul in sight.
“Sensei, is this really Kirigakure?”
Walking beside Rēn, Yakumo looked along the deserted road with deep doubt—had they gone the wrong way? Or had they walked into a trap laid by the Mist-nin? As she spoke, her eyes flicked toward the woman leading them: a Mist-nin with long reddish-brown hair, dressed in a blue skirt.
“This is Kirigakure,” Terumī Mei answered, glancing back at the girl beside the Uchiha clan head.
From the Mizukage, she knew that this child was his disciple, named Kurama Yakumo, from the Kurama clan of Konoha—a clan once so renowned that it could rival the Uchiha, but now in decline. Their Kekkei Genkai was notoriously unstable, and it often took generations for a successor to be born.
Even Yagura Karatachi did not know exactly what the Kurama clan’s Kekkei Genkai truly was. Perhaps it would be best to consult the elder Genji.
“Then why isn’t there anyone on the streets? It’s still daytime,” Fujika, walking with Yakumo, pressed.
“This…”
Mei opened her mouth, but no words came. The question hit too close to the heart of the matter.
Why were the streets empty?
Because the Mizukage’s rule was harsh and oppressive. Not only the shinobi, but the civilians, were worn down. People could not bear opening their doors each morning to see fresh pools of blood still warm in the streets, or bodies not yet cleared away.
Those who could leave had fled to the daimyō’s court or the countryside. Day by day, the village grew quieter. If the Mizukage had not later issued a travel restriction requiring official approval to leave, using force to stop the exodus, the civilian population might already have vanished entirely.
“Maybe everyone’s just taking the day off,” Mei said, offering a lie even she knew sounded foolish. But seriously explaining such grim realities to a child seemed worse, so she chose the answer that at least sounded less cruel.
“But it’s not a holiday. Or does Kirigakure have a different schedule?”
“…I’m not sure,” Mei replied with a strained expression. “Maybe something’s going on.”
Such vague answers did not satisfy the two girls.
Yakumo and Fujika exchanged a glance, clearly preparing to keep pressing.
A moment later, a hand dropped from above, lightly tapping them both on the head.
“That’s enough, Yakumo, Fujika. Don’t keep pestering others with questions. Learn to think for yourselves. A shinobi isn’t just muscle; brains are important too. And learn from Naruto—don’t spend all day looking for trouble.” Rēn flicked each girl on the forehead to cut off their endless questioning.
Naruto scratched his head and gave a bright, slightly embarrassed smile. This boy who, in the future, would climb the Hokage Rock to carve his own “art,” was now obedient and perceptive. Life so far had taught him to read the room, yet it had not worn away his natural brightness and wit.
Fujika pursed her lips in mild defiance, but stayed quiet for now. A glance exchanged with Yakumo made it clear this peace would be temporary.
Even so, their pestering had managed to draw out a small piece of useful information.
From Terumi Mei’s subtle expression, it was clear that the situation in Kirigakure was far from optimistic. Combined with everything Rēn had seen and heard along the way into the village, he could not help but sigh inwardly—Uchiha Obito, that madman, had truly driven the Mist-nin to ruin, breaking them in both strength and spirit.
If not for this, even if Rēn himself could carve through enemy lines without equal, without paying a heavy enough price Konoha would never be able to achieve victory in a war against the Mist.
Terumi Mei, for her part, quietly felt a measure of relief. These kinds of questions, which poured salt directly into one’s wounds, were unpleasant enough—worse still when the ones scattering the salt were two little girls. She could only swallow her frustration and be grateful that the Uchiha clan head was a man of reason, not allowing his disciple and younger sister to pursue the matter too far.
Without showing any change in expression, Terumi Mei quickened her pace.
After walking for half the length of a main street and turning twice, they arrived at a large complex in the northwest corner of Kirigakure. Unlike the unplanned, disorderly building style of Konoha, which had developed naturally over time, the Mist’s architecture was largely cylindrical. Along the way, Rēn had seen many tall, pillar-like towers, their rooftops covered in lush greenery. It was unclear whether they had been abandoned or if this was simply a distinct architectural style.
Here, Terumi Mei stopped.
Rēn looked up and realized that they had reached their lodgings.
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Southern Kirigakure:
In the tea room of the Genji residence.
“Mizukage-sama, have Konoha’s guests arrived yet?” Genji sat behind a long table, his eyes narrowed to thin slits as he regarded Yagura Karatachi, who knelt on the other side.
“We entered the village together.”
Yagura held a ceramic tea cup in both hands, steam curling upward from the green tea within.
“So then, Mizukage-sama has left Konoha’s guests unattended, coming here to my humble place just to drink a cup of tea?” Seeing the Mizukage unmoving, Genji spoke again.
“Genji, there weren’t any loose ends left from the matter at the harbor, were there?”
Yagura lifted his eyelids and asked in a low voice.
When the harbor had first been attacked, he had thought it was yet another assassination attempt against himself. But when Meguro moved to strike at Uchiha Rēn, he realized that this was no simple assassination or coup. He himself might have been only a decoy; perhaps Uchiha Rēn had been the true target all along.
“Mizukage-sama, you can rest assured. The masterminds behind the harbor attack have already been captured, every last one of them, and you may go to the prison to interrogate them at any time.” Genji’s reply was calm and steady. Sitting there, he was like a small, weathered tree whose roots reached deep into the earth, unmoved by wind or rain.
“As long as there’s no problem. The village cannot withstand any further losses.”
Yagura exhaled softly and did not press the matter further. He believed that if Genji spoke so confidently, Uchiha Rēn would not be able to seize on any loose thread to further threaten the village. Shifting the topic, he asked, “Then, Genji, in your view, what kind of stance should we take in dealing with Konoha?”
Genji’s eyelids twitched slightly in surprise as he looked across the table. “Mizukage-sama, that is a question for you to consider. I am but an old man with one foot already in the grave…”
“This is no jest.”
Yagura set down his tea cup, straightened his back, and sat upright with a grave expression. “I have already made the situation clear in my letters. Since five years ago, I have had no freedom. Please do not view me as I was in the past. I know it is asking much, but Genji—I have no time left.”
“No time left?”
Genji opened his eyes, doubt in his gaze. Was Yagura speaking of his remaining time as Mizukage, or of something else?
“I will not live much longer,” Yagura said frankly. “I was controlled for five years by that damned one-eyed man’s genjutsu. Though I am free now, my mental consciousness is already riddled with holes. I can feel my spiritual energy constantly slipping away. At most, I have a year left—and if I am forced into battle and expend more of it, that time will only shorten.”
A brief period under genjutsu would not cause lasting harm.
But more than five years under the invasive force of an exceptionally powerful dōjutsu had inflicted irreparable damage on Yagura’s mind. Only a medical ninja of Tsunade’s caliber might have some hope of treatment.
Yet there was only one Tsunade in the shinobi world.
Besides, Yagura no longer had much will to cling to life. He would not seek death as a way to shirk responsibility, but neither did he wish to prolong his existence only to endure more pain and humiliation. Were it not for the guilt that drove him to try to do something for his village in his final days, he might have taken his own life the moment he escaped Uchiha Obito’s control.
“Genji, I am asking in earnest how we should approach dealings with Konoha. I am destined to leave my successor a terrible mess, but I hope to at least put some of it in order before I go. Whatever I can do, I will.” Yagura’s voice was quiet, yet the sincerity in it was unmistakable.
Genji lowered his head in silence for over ten seconds before slowly lifting it again. “Until Uchiha Rēn is dead, do not antagonize Konoha. Do not set your sights on them. That is my counsel.”
“Then I can be at ease.”
Yagura let out a breath of relief. “Genji, I will do my utmost in the coming negotiations with Konoha. But… the village’s future will rest in your hands.”
