Chapter 162: Life Teaches, One Lesson is Enough
Jiraiya forced his erratic breathing to steady, keeping his voice carefully neutral as he looked down at Nawaki.
"Then, when he asked you to organize the data, did he say anything else?"
Nawaki blinked, his youthful face scrunching in mild confusion. He nodded slowly. "Sensei said that the wind from the other world has disappeared. He also mentioned that all research on the mechanical arm will stop here from now on."
A violent tremor wracked Jiraiya's frame. He locked his knees to keep from staggering. The wind from the other world has disappeared. He was almost absolutely certain now—something catastrophic had happened to Jia.
No one in this village understood the crushing weight of the words "other world" better than he did.
Orochimaru's hint couldn't have been more glaring. Why else would the snake suddenly leave on his own, deliberately giving Jiraiya the perfect opening to sift through the clues left behind?
The intelligence was too critical. A strict gag order had clearly been issued from the very top. Bound by silence, Orochimaru had resorted to this cryptic method to sound the alarm since he couldn't speak the words aloud.
Jiraiya clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as he fought to anchor his spiraling thoughts.
Jia was an S-Rank Rogue Ninja. More, she was a traveler from another world.
Her true intelligence was a closely guarded secret, completely inaccessible to ordinary shinobi. Only those who explicitly knew her otherworldly origins would even have a chance to brush against the truth of her current status.
But Dan was clearly not part of that inner circle. And Tsunade? No matter how deeply she loved Dan, she would never casually leak such classified intelligence to him. She was fiercely loyal to the village; she wouldn't dare defy the Fourth Hokage's absolute gag order.
So, what exactly was Dan's role in this web of secrets?
Inside the sealed research institute, the stagnant air suddenly felt suffocating. Jiraiya turned on his heel, his heavy footsteps echoing in the quiet room as he marched outside.
Piercing sunlight filtered through the sparse canopy, washing over his face. He dragged in a lungful of crisp, fresh air. In that fleeting moment of clarity, a realization struck him like a physical blow.
The Spirit Transformation Technique.
It was the ultimate ninjutsu for covert intelligence gathering.
Dan was the one who brought the intelligence back.
As the operative who secured the information, Dan naturally wouldn't be kept in the dark. He had earned the right to know the gruesome details regarding Jia, the S-Rank Rogue Ninja from beyond their world.
To unearth the truth, Jiraiya only needed to find Dan.
When Jiraiya finally tracked him down, Dan was standing in the kitchen, casually stirring a pot. A rich, savory aroma wafted from the stove—a delicate broth perfectly brewed to soothe a brutal hangover. It was obviously meant for Tsunade.
Hearing the door, Dan paused by the window. He looked up, offering a composed smile and a gentle wave. It was a flawless mask. After a night of processing whatever horrors he had witnessed, the man had managed to perfectly disguise his inner turmoil.
"Jiraiya, you've arrived at just the right time," Dan said, his tone smooth and welcoming. "The soup is ready. Come in, take a seat."
Jiraiya pushed the door open, stepping inside to sink heavily onto the sofa. Dan untied his apron, draped it over a chair, and set a steaming bowl on the low table between them.
"Try it," Dan offered. "See if it suits your taste."
"Your cooking has always been exceptional. Tsunade brags about it constantly," Jiraiya replied, his voice hollow.
He picked up the porcelain spoon and took a sip. The broth was rich, fragrant, and perfectly balanced, lacking any heavy grease.
A bitter memory surfaced. He remembered the days right after Jia had been expelled from the Anbu. She had locked herself in her home for days. Dan had brewed this exact same soup, handing it over to Jiraiya with a knowing smile, telling him to pass it off as his own creation to cheer her up.
Unfortunately, Jia had seen through the ruse after a single sip. She knew damn well Jiraiya lacked the culinary finesse to boil water, let alone craft such a delicate dish.
Jiraiya had helplessly joked that mastering the culinary arts would take him longer than mastering Sage Mode.
Jia had laughed until she couldn't breathe, mercilessly mocking his clumsy hands. She teased that a man who could draw complex sealing arrays with his eyes closed shouldn't be so utterly incompetent with a kitchen knife.
In return, he had fired back that her own cooking was a biohazard, only marginally safer than ingesting raw poison. That had been the brightest, most genuine laugh he had ever heard from her.
Normally, Jiraiya and Dan were the loudest men in the room. Jiraiya despised silence, always ready with a boisterous joke to shatter any awkward tension. Dan, naturally charismatic and talkative, could effortlessly steer a conversation to make anyone feel at ease.
Now, the two grown men sat in suffocating silence, as if someone had stolen their voices.
Jiraiya slowly lowered the spoon. He stared at the rippling surface of the broth before speaking, aiming for a casual tone that fell completely flat.
"Dan... during your last mission, did you encounter Jia?"
Those few light words crashed down like boulders, crushing the already heavy atmosphere.
Jiraiya raised his head. His eyes burned with a paranoid, desperate persistence. His voice cracked, raspy and tense. "I already got the answer from Orochimaru. But I need to confirm it. Dan, please. Tell me exactly what happened."
The polite smile vanished from Dan's face. He stared back in silence. His Adam's apple bobbed as he struggled to find the words to ease the oppressive tension, but his throat remained tightly shut.
Sensing a shift in the room, Jiraiya glanced over his shoulder. Tsunade was leaning heavily against the doorframe.
Her face was pale, etched with the deep exhaustion of a severe hangover. When her eyes met Jiraiya's, her lips curled into a bitter, self-deprecating smile.
"I honestly thought I'd be the first one to crack," she murmured, her voice rough. "I didn't expect Orochimaru to be bolder than me. Even with the Hokage's gag order hanging over our heads, he just handed you the final answer."
She pushed off the wall and trudged over to the sofa, collapsing into the cushions. She propped her chin on her hand, her entire body radiating a restless, jagged agitation. A moment later, she forced her posture to straighten, her tone hardening into steel.
"Dan, tell him. The rest of the village can be kept in the dark, but Jiraiya... he is the one person who absolutely must know."
Dan drew in a long, shaky breath. He opened his mouth, trying to mechanically recite the intelligence he had witnessed, but the moment he met Jiraiya's desperate gaze, the words died on his tongue.
He tried again, and again. The syllables felt like hot coals, burning his mouth, too heavy and agonizing to speak aloud.
"I'm sorry," Dan finally choked out, shaking his head. "I can stand in the Hokage's office and deliver a flawless, professional report using all the sterile terminology of an intelligence operative. But looking at you... I can't say it. Not calmly."
He hesitated for a long, agonizing moment. Then, slowly, he raised his hands, his fingers weaving through a complex sequence of hand seals.
"Jiraiya. Do not resist."
As a master spiritual-type shinobi, Dan's genjutsu prowess was formidable. He cast a highly specialized technique, designed to directly project his own memories into Jiraiya's mind.
The cozy living room violently warped and twisted. Jiraiya's vision was violently yanked out of Konoha.
When the world snapped back into focus, the biting chill of a raging blizzard assaulted his senses. He was in the Land of Frost.
In the distance, looming over a jagged mountain ridge, a colossal, pitch-black Susanoo was locked in a devastating battle.
That was Jia's Susanoo.
Jiraiya's phantom perspective was pulled forward, following Dan's spiritual projection into the heart of a decaying, crumbling ruin. As the cruel truth unveiled itself, the breath froze solid in Jiraiya's chest.
In the center of the desolate chamber lay a lonely, broken figure slumped against the cold stone. Her pure black combat gear was saturated with fresh, bright red blood. She looked less like a human and more like a fragile doll sculpted from gore.
It was glaringly obvious she had been subjected to a prolonged, barbaric interrogation. Even the shallowest rise and fall of her chest seemed to tear at her grievous wounds.
Why? Jiraiya's mind screamed. Why does she always end up in such a wretched state?
The mastermind who had once manipulated him was standing over her, using a terrifying Cursed Seal to forcefully rip the intelligence from her mind.
Beside him stood the wielder of the Rinnegan, a god-like figure holding absolute power, methodically employing psychological torture to snap her fraying nerves piece by piece.
Through the haze of the memory, Jiraiya heard her voice. It was weak, yet laced with an unbreakable, absolute resolve.
"As long as they are all okay... I don't matter!"
No, Jiraiya thought, his heart shattering. It's not like that. You matter, Jia. You matter so much.
"Because someone told me..." she coughed, blood spilling past her lips, yet a faint smile graced her ruined features. "...that he believes in me unconditionally. At any time."
I'm sorry.
The words echoed in the empty cavern of Jiraiya's soul.
He hadn't fully believed in her.
He hadn't honored that promise at all. How many times had he stood in the shadows, gripping his kunai, fully prepared to kill her? To strike her down to prevent her from sinking further into the darkness? To execute her just to ensure no more of their Konoha comrades would bleed?
Because he couldn't uncover her hidden motives, because he couldn't decipher the twisted logic behind her actions, his faith had wavered. His heart had strayed long ago.
He was a hypocrite. A terrible, worthless hypocrite who changed his mind the moment the shadows grew too thick.
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