Hatani feigned sleep, his eyes narrowed into mere slits as he watched Jiraiya sink into deep thought. He knew he had said far too much today—things a child shouldn't even understand, let alone articulate.
But he was willing to bet on it.
He was gambling that these words would make Jiraiya see his worth.
Ever since he had transmigrated into this world, Hatani had tried his best to appear ordinary. In an unfamiliar world filled with danger and bloodshed—and as an orphan with no elders to protect him—the safest path was to blend into the crowd, to be just another face in the village.
However, that plan had effectively died the moment he was assigned to a team with Nawaki.
He couldn't exactly keep playing the "average student" if it meant losing his life.
Fortunately, Nawaki was just a naive kid fresh out of the Academy with zero life experience. It had been easy enough to keep his deeper secrets hidden from him. If things had continued as planned, his relationship with Nawaki would have simply grown closer; he might have attracted a little attention, but his true nature would have remained a secret.
But plans rarely survive contact with reality.
On their flight from the enemy, they had run into Tsunade. To make matters worse, she was being hunted and looked to be in dire straits herself. Unable to simply stand by and watch her die, Hatani had worked with Nawaki to devise a tactic to ambush her pursuer, Parashia.
Parashia was no amateur, though; he had seen right through their ploy.
Faced with certain death, Hatani had "awakened," breaking through his limits to create Wind Style: Powershot. He had killed Parashia and neutralized the threat, but in doing so, he had exposed his true potential to Tsunade.
He had considered trying to feed her some vague, plausible excuse to maintain his "slightly talented civilian" persona. But Tsunade wasn't Nawaki. She had seen through his deflection instantly and was clearly intent on digging deeper into his secrets.
Under those circumstances, Hatani felt a chill of unease. Even if she was Nawaki's sister and even if he was technically her savior, he knew how dangerous Konoha's internal politics could be.
The moment he stepped onto that balcony and saw Jiraiya standing beside Tsunade, a new plan for self-preservation had formed in his mind.
Since he could no longer maintain his "ordinary" persona, he would tear the mask off entirely. He would turn himself into a "genius" so undeniable that neither Tsunade nor Jiraiya could ignore him—a genius they would want to claim.
Ideally, he wanted to prompt one of them to take him on as an apprentice.
If he became the student of a Sannin, he would be firmly entrenched within the "Hokage Faction." With that kind of protection, he might not be able to act with total impunity in Konoha, but he certainly wouldn't have to worry about being snatched up and "processed" by certain shadowy figures in the village.
Even the "Third Monkey"—that cunning, dark-hearted Sarutobi Hiruzen—would likely show some leniency to his own grand-student.
In a few years, once his "Big Brother" Minato grew into the Fourth Hokage the old monkey favored, Hatani would truly be able to walk through the village without a care in the world.
So, when Nawaki had asked him about Yahiko's ideals, Hatani had deliberately raised his voice, drawing the Sannin in. He wanted Jiraiya's undivided attention.
The gamble had paid off.
Jiraiya had stopped in his tracks the moment he heard the story Hatani told the orphans. And when Hatani had dropped that line to Yahiko—
"Baseness is the password of the base; nobility the epitaph of the noble."
—Tsunade had stopped as well.
It was clear they were both shaken. They needed time to process the weight of his words.
Tsunade had been the first to act. Whatever she was thinking, she hadn't even waited for daybreak, summoning Katsuyu to rush her back to the Konoha camp at top speed.
Jiraiya wasn't quite as impulsive, but after brooding for several hours, he finally couldn't help himself. He had come seeking Hatani in the dead of night, looking for an "in-depth exchange"—the kind of candlelit heart-to-heart that usually preceded a life-altering bond.
Hatani, who had been waiting for this exact moment, delivered his prepared script to keep the pressure on Jiraiya's world-view.
He knew that a few minutes of shock wouldn't be enough to change Jiraiya's core belief—his quest for the "Child of Prophecy" and the hope for a lasting world peace. That was Jiraiya's faith, his nindo. Men like Jiraiya didn't abandon their faith just because of a few clever words.
They were like Hashirama Senju, who would kill his own best friend to protect his vision. Or Uchiha Madara, who believed right until the moment Black Zetsu pierced his heart that his "Eye of the Moon" plan was the only way to save humanity.
When men like that are convinced they are right, then the only thing that can be "wrong" is everyone else—or the world itself.
They were like Hashirama and Madara: first, they would try "Talk no Jutsu" to make you see the light. If that failed, you became an enemy to be crushed, an obstacle in the way of peace.
Fortunately, Hatani was a twelve-year-old Konoha shinobi. Jiraiya wouldn't view him as an enemy. Instead, Jiraiya's instinct would be to "correct" his cynical outlook and lead him back to the "righteous path."
And how do you guide a child who sees too much and possesses the genius to create A-rank ninjutsu?
The best way was to take him as a student—to influence him through proximity and teach him by example.
That was Hatani's grand design. Whether it would become a reality, however, remained entirely up to Jiraiya.
To Hatani's relief, everything seemed to be going according to plan. After some reflection, Jiraiya had been unable to sit still. He had come to ask questions, and after receiving Hatani's devastatingly blunt answers, he had fallen into a long, heavy silence.
For Hatani, that silence was its own kind of torture.
"If it were you... what would you do?"
Finally, the silence broke. Jiraiya's voice finally drifted through the room, heavy with the weight of the conversation.
Hatani had been "faking sleep" with his eyes closed, but he knew he couldn't fool a master like Jiraiya.
"I don't know," Hatani replied.
He opened his eyes naturally, meeting Jiraiya's gaze without a hint of embarrassment despite being caught faking. Beside them, Nawaki looked on with a stunned expression. Hatani gave a small, honest shake of his head.
"Besides, that's not a question for someone like me to think about."
A slight, knowing smile played at the corners of Hatani's mouth as he looked at Jiraiya.
"For me, right now, the most important thing is simply making it back to the village alive."
Then, worried his hint wasn't quite obvious enough, he added one more line.
"Maybe one day, when I've grown into a shinobi as powerful as you, Lord Jiraiya—when I have the strength and the status to actually matter—only then will I have the luxury of thinking about those things."
He let out a small huff. "After all, isn't it a bit ridiculous for a person who hasn't even learned to walk yet to start worrying about how to run a marathon?"