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Chapter 124n
🕑 Added 2025-08-09 15:03:17 +0000 UTCChapter 124n
2-in-1-chapter
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The Konoha shinobi spread out, weaving a tight net that sealed off every possible route of escape.
The harbor had become Rēn’s hunting ground.
“Uchiha Clan Head, please show some mercy. I will see to it that this assassination attempt is explained to you, but for now I ask that you grant me this dignity.”
Yagura Karatachi approached Susanoo, dragging two unconscious Mist-nin Jōnin behind him. Looking up at the towering form before him, his hoarse voice was laced with exhaustion. Both body and spirit were worn down, to the point where even breathing felt laborious. Yet after dealing with the three Jōnin who had entangled him, he still forced himself through the fatigue to plead with Rēn not to slaughter indiscriminately. Most of the attackers were young Mist-nin in their teens or twenties, many of them gifted; Yagura truly could not bear to see them die here.
After five or six seconds passed, the deep crimson flames receded like the tide going out, and Susanoo vanished. Rēn walked forward at an unhurried pace to stand before Yagura, his voice low. “Mizukage-dono, I will be expecting Kirigakure’s explanation.”
“Clan Head Uchiha, rest assured. Even if we must sell off every last asset, Kirigakure will satisfy you.”
Seeing Susanoo disappear, Yagura first let out a breath of relief, then promised solemnly.
From here, neither the Mizukage nor the Uchiha Clan Head needed to act personally. The attackers, already broken in will, offered no resistance when confronted by their fellow Mist-nin returning from the front lines. They surrendered without a fight, hanging their heads in defeat as they became prisoners.
While the captives were being rounded up, Uchiha Shisui returned from afar. Empty-handed, he came to stand before Rēn.
“Clan Head, I was unable to capture Meguro. Please punish me.”
Shisui knelt on one knee, bowing his head in shame.
“Meguro escaped?”
Standing beside Rēn, Yagura was mildly surprised to hear Shisui’s report. It seemed that Meguro’s skills had grown enough for him to slip from Shisui’s grasp.
“He got away?”
Rēn arched an eyebrow. “Shisui, do you remember what my order was?”
“…Dead or alive, bring Meguro to me,” Shisui replied after a brief pause, condensing Rēn’s earlier command.
“Forget talk of punishment. What am I supposed to do, cut off a few of your fingers over this? I’m not going to cripple my own people with foolish acts like that. Since you still remember my order, then go and bring Meguro back. I don’t care where he’s run—so long as you return with him before we head back to Konoha, your task will be complete.”
“Yes, Clan Head.”
Shisui bowed deeply in acknowledgment.
“Mizukage-dono, please prepare some kind of travel permit for Shisui, to prevent unnecessary clashes with Water Country shinobi.” Rēn turned to Yagura with a request that was far from convenient.
Issuing a travel document to a Konoha shinobi meant allowing him to move freely through Water Country, openly gathering information on its terrain and waterways. In truth, Yagura wanted to refuse outright. But not even the Mizukage could always act according to his own wishes—especially now, when his position was so constrained.
Moments ago, Rēn had spared the young Mist-nin who had attacked, and that made it hard for Yagura to outright reject his request. Pride was a small matter; the real problem was the gap in strength, which left him with little confidence to refuse such an impolite demand.
“Clan Head Uchiha, Meguro will not escape. Even if he flees to the ends of the earth, the pursuit squad will take care of him,” Yagura attempted to decline indirectly.
“Didn’t Biwa Jūzō escape? He even had enough energy to make it to Konoha and try to assassinate the Third Hokage, hoping to spark a civil war in our village so you Mist-nin could seize the advantage. It seems your pursuit squads have grown soft these past years.”
Rēn’s words left Yagura with nothing to say but a weary sigh.
He already knew of Jūzō’s assassination attempt, and a significant part of the war reparations Konoha had demanded had been justified under that pretext.
Thinking it through, Water Country was isolated overseas. Even if Konoha shinobi gathered intelligence, so what? Kirigakure was currently in no state to compete with Konoha over anything. As long as Konoha did not aim to annihilate the village completely, all else could be negotiated.
He could only reason with himself this way.
“Leave it to me.”
Yagura took a deep breath and agreed. He gestured for one of his shadow guards, who retrieved ink and a seal from packed supplies. On the spot, Yagura wrote out a travel permit for Shisui and stamped it with the seal of the Mizukage.
“My thanks, Mizukage-dono.”
Accepting the document, Rēn offered his thanks. With this, Shisui’s movements in Water Country would be far easier. As long as he did not make the first move, there would be no need to worry even if he encountered Mist-nin. And if he could not shake off a few ANBU pursuing him—then he might as well be dead already.
“Move quickly. Once you find the target, return immediately. Don’t waste time.”
Rēn handed the permit to Shisui, adding a final reminder.
“I understand. This time I will find the target without fail.” Shisui held the permit for a few seconds, then carefully stored it away. He understood exactly what Rēn meant. Meguro was not someone who could escape him; once the man was dead, his body could be stored in the scroll tucked into Shisui’s chest pocket.
The hunt for Meguro was merely the outward pretext. His true mission was to search for the possible presence of the Six Path Ninja Tools within Water Country.
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Konohagakure, Yamanaka Flower Shop.
As the head of the Yamanaka clan, Yamanaka Inoichi was far from needing to run a flower shop to support his household. This shop was an inherited family business, passed down through the line of clan leaders. In truth, “passed down for generations” was a bit of an exaggeration—Inoichi was only the third to hold it, since Konoha’s history itself was not yet sixty years old.
The day-to-day running of the shop fell to Inoichi’s wife. A young girl had been hired to help out, and their beloved daughter, now looking more like a young lady since entering the Ninja Academy, would come after school to lend a hand. She would also cling to her mother’s arm and whisper private things like, “Sasuke in my class is so handsome.”
When Inoichi learned that his precious daughter had a crush on a boy at the Academy, he was so shaken that he dragged his good friend Nara Shikaku to a tavern to drink his sorrows away. After getting drunk, he even cried embarrassingly in the middle of the street. Fortunately, Shikaku was reliable—before Inoichi could do anything worse, he used Shadow Imitation Jutsu to restrain him and quickly led him away.
Otherwise, the next day, many of the village’s intelligence operatives might have had to experience the disillusionment of seeing their idol fall from grace.
“Ah… what will I do in the future…”
Sitting behind the counter arranging flowers, the gentle woman’s thoughts drifted far ahead, as if picturing the lively scene on the day her daughter would one day be married.
Ding-ling!
The bell above the shop door rang.
She set aside her daydream of the future, stood up, and put on a warm smile as she looked toward the customer who had entered. A tall, broad-shouldered, aged man stepped inside. His long white hair hung down to his lower back, two long red markings stretched under his eyes, and beneath a red coat he wore a brown outfit. On his feet were wooden geta that clicked crisply against the floor as he walked.
“Sir, what kind of flowers would you like?”
She felt that this old man looked familiar, but since she had married not long after graduating from the Academy, her social circle was small. Searching her memory yielded no match for his identity.
Still, that faint sense of familiarity did not make her lose her composure.
“A bouquet of white chrysanthemums will do.”
His voice was low, his expression solemn, and combined with his request… the smile faded from her face, her demeanor becoming respectful. She carefully chose a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, wrapped them, and handed them over. The man said nothing more, paid, and left.
Watching the white-haired figure depart, she suddenly remembered something from years ago, when she had still been a student at the Academy. It had been shortly after the Second Great Ninja War ended, and the school’s principal had invited the famed “Legendary Sannins” to speak to the students.
Back then, she had seen a back almost identical to this one—though in those days it had radiated a bold, confident energy. Now, it carried the weight of many years of hardship.
“Lord Jiraiya?”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
She had finally recalled the identity of this important figure who had been absent from the village for so long. Hurriedly telling the young helper to watch the shop, she rushed to the Yamanaka clan compound to inform one of the clan’s elders. The elder did not dare take the matter lightly and personally went to find Inoichi.
Only then did Konoha’s upper echelon learn that one of the Legendary Three Sannin, Jiraiya, had returned to the village.
“Jiraiya is back,”
Akimichi Torifu said from behind his wide office desk, his tone heavy and complicated.
Nara Shikaku and Yamanaka Inoichi said nothing. Hyūga Hiashi and Aburame Shibi, feeling it was unrelated to them, also kept silent.
Aburame Shibi had already returned from the front lines.
With the fighting concluded, he had not joined the delegation Rēn had organized—Aburame Shikuro was sufficient to represent their clan. Instead, he and Akimichi Chōza had brought the news of victory back to the village.
“Since Jiraiya has returned, it seems I can finally put down the burden of acting Hokage,” Torifu said, looking as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. But the others still remained silent. No one was foolish enough to respond with something like, You’re right, Lord Hokage, it’s time for you to retire.
Seeing their silence, Torifu sighed softly. He understood why.
His own feelings were no less conflicted. Only by sitting in the Hokage’s chair could one truly grasp what it was like. Torifu didn’t know how best to describe the experience, but he could understand, at least in part, why Sarutobi had clung so tightly to that power and refused to let go.
“Shikaku, tell me—what should we do next? We can’t just sit here doing nothing.”
Naturally, Torifu’s gaze fell upon the one known as the “strategist,” Nara Shikaku.
