The rain didn't just fall; it poured, a relentless, cold torrent from black clouds that churned above the battered village of Konoha, weeping over the devastation. It drenched blood, smoke, and shattered stone, washing away the grime of battle, yet leaving behind the indelible stain of despair. Amid the smoldering, grotesque ruins of the Hokage Monument, its stone faces scarred by conflict, and the cracked, skeletal rooftops of the village, the atmosphere was thick with a palpable dread. The enemy had not fallen back; if anything, the real terror was only beginning, a chilling, inevitable dawn.
In the heart of the village, amidst the desolation, six figures stood motionless, lined in perfect, chilling formation.
Six Paths of Pain. Silent. Menacing. Watching. Their eyes, cold and dispassionate, seemed to absorb all light, reflecting only the destruction they had wrought.
Behind them, corpses littered the main road—Leaf shinobi, ANBU, and civilians alike, their bodies twisted caricatures of life, grim testament to the Paths' unstoppable advance.
But they had not advanced further. Not yet.
They were being held back.
Standing between them and the very core of Konoha was a single man—wounded, bloodied, his body screaming in protest, but his spirit still unbroken, a defiant pillar against the encroaching darkness.
Jiraiya of the Sannin. The Toad Sage.
His long white hair was not just soaked and matted with blood; it clung to his face like a grotesque mask, heavy with the weight of battle. His robe had been torn to shreds, exposing his chest, covered in a tapestry of fresh bruises and raw chakra burns, each one a testament to the brutal fight he had endured. But his eyes—his eyes were alive, blazing with an unquenchable fury and an unwavering resolve, a fire that refused to be extinguished.
He had intercepted the Paths before they reached the central sector, a desperate, solitary stand against overwhelming odds. And though the battle had already begun hours ago, a relentless, grinding attrition, he had never once relented, never once taken a step back.
"Still standing, Jiraiya-sensei?" the Deva Path asked, its voice cold and inhuman, echoing with a godlike calm that was more terrifying than any roar. "You're persistent. But your death is inevitable. It is the will of God."
Jiraiya spat blood, a crimson spray against the wet ground. "I've buried more 'gods' than I can count, brat. You don't scare me. You're just another misguided fool playing at divinity."
The Animal Path stepped forward, a grim, silent harbinger of destruction, summoning a massive centipede with a clap of her hands. It didn't just burst from the ground; it erupted with a sickening crunch of earth and stone, chittering with a thousand tiny legs, its segmented body the size of a building, and lunged at Jiraiya, its mandibles snapping, hungry for flesh.
He didn't flinch. His eyes narrowed, a grim determination setting his jaw.
"Kuchiyose: Toad Mouth Bind!" Jiraiya slapped his hand into the mud, chakra flaring.
The street beneath them didn't just bubble and transform; it writhed and contorted, the very ground and surrounding walls suddenly coated in grotesque, flesh-like muscle and sticky, viscous saliva. The centipede was caught mid-lunge, its monstrous form ensnared, as the walls of the transformed area contracted, crushing it within seconds. The creature let out a high-pitched, strangled shriek of agony before vanishing into a puff of smoke, its existence erased.
Jiraiya took one step forward, his body screaming in protest, breathing heavily, but his voice was unwavering. "This is still Konoha. My home. You won't get past me. Not while I still draw breath."
The Preta Path dashed toward him, a blur of motion, its hand outstretched, attempting to absorb his chakra through contact, to drain him of his very life force.
"Too slow," Jiraiya muttered, a grim smile touching his lips.
He blurred forward with Sage Mode–enhanced speed, a golden flash, and smashed a spinning Rasengan into Preta Path's chest, launching him through a collapsed building with an explosion of debris, a shower of shattered wood and stone.
"Two down," Jiraiya growled, his chest heaving, his body aching, but a flicker of triumph in his eyes. "Four to go."
But the Naraka Path raised a hand, its grotesque, demonic mouth opening, revealing a terrifying, multi-eyed visage. From the ground, the damaged Preta Path didn't just reappear; it reformed, its body knitting itself back together with sickening speed, restored to full functionality, its blank eyes fixed on Jiraiya.
Jiraiya's expression darkened, a cold dread coiling in his gut.
So that's the one... the one reviving them. The key.
He didn't have time to form a strategy. The Asura Path launched a barrage of missiles from its mechanical arms, a terrifying, relentless volley that saturated the entire district in a blanket of fire and steel, a storm of destruction.
Jiraiya leapt into the air, his hand weaving seals with impossible speed, his mind racing, calculating.
"Sage Art: Fire Release – Toad Flame Bomb!"
A massive, incandescent gout of fire didn't just explode from his mouth; it roared to life, a searing inferno that intercepted the missiles mid-flight. The ensuing explosion was deafening, a concussive shockwave that hurled rubble in every direction, leveling the area around him—but still the Paths advanced, emotionless, relentless.
Back near the hospital ruins, ANBU squads watched from afar, their faces grim, their bodies weary. "He's fighting them alone," one muttered, his voice filled with awe and despair. "Jiraiya-sama's buying us time... we need to regroup the remaining forces. But there's no one left to send."
Tsunade was unconscious, her chakra depleted. Minato and Kushina were tending to the last perimeter, fighting their own desperate battles. The rest of the shinobi were spread thin, overwhelmed, fighting for every inch of ground.
It was Jiraiya or nothing. The fate of Konoha rested on his battered shoulders.
The Toad Sage landed roughly on a rooftop, his breath ragged, each gasp a struggle. His arm was dislocated, hanging uselessly at his side; his left side throbbed with the agonizing pain of cracked ribs. But his chakra—what remained of his vast reserves—was still potent, still burning.
Asura Path stepped forward, its mechanical eyes glowing, firing arm-mounted lasers that sliced through the air with deadly precision.
Jiraiya vanished.
In a blur of movement that defied the eye, he appeared behind Asura, jamming his fingers into its spine, targeting its core.
"Sage Art: Deep Swamp Crushing Technique."
The rooftop beneath Asura Path didn't just liquify; it transformed into a churning, crushing pit of chakra-thickened mud, pulling it down into the depths. The mechanical monster flailed, trying to escape, its limbs thrashing wildly, but the bog consumed it, dragging it into a watery, muddy grave.
"You're flashy, Jiraiya-sensei," Deva Path commented, finally stepping forward, its voice unnervingly calm, utterly devoid of any discernible emotion.
Jiraiya knew this one was different. The others fought like tools, like puppets. This one led. This one was the true threat.
"Tell me," he said between ragged breaths, his voice strained but firm, "why here? Why now? What is your true objective?"
Deva Path raised a hand, a gesture of cold, divine authority.
"The Nine-Tails resides here. Akatsuki requires both halves. The girl, Mito. The other one, Fū. Their existence delays peace. True peace can only be achieved through absolute power."
Jiraiya's blood boiled, a surge of righteous fury overriding his pain.
"That's your idea of peace? Massacre, fear, and destruction? You call this justice?!"
He slammed a foot into the tiles, cracking them further, and charged, a desperate, final surge of power.
"Then I'll destroy it here and now! I'll destroy your twisted vision!"
He collided with the Deva Path in a shockwave of raw force, their fists slamming together, a clash of ideals and power. The impact cracked the surrounding buildings, sending tremors through the ground, and hurled both men backwards. But before Jiraiya could rise, the Human Path was on him, a blur of motion, its hand reaching for his head.
It grabbed his head, its grip like a vice.
Pain exploded in Jiraiya's mind—not just physical, but a searing, psychic agony as his memories flashed by in a dizzying, agonizing kaleidoscope: Naruto as a child, ramen-stained and grinning; Tsunade's booming laughter, her fierce loyalty; Minato's wedding, a day of pure joy; the birth of Mito and Naruto, their tiny faces filled with innocent promise—all the precious moments, all the lives he had loved, all the failures he had endured. He screamed, a raw, guttural sound ripped from his throat, blood dripping from his eyes, his mind threatening to shatter.
But amidst the torment, he remembered something. A whisper in the wind. A lesson long ago, taught by the very Will of Fire he embodied.
"The will of fire... isn't just about surviving. It's about who you protect until your last breath. It's about passing on that hope."
With that thought, a surge of defiant chakra, pure and unyielding, coursed through him. Jiraiya's eyes opened, blazing with a renewed, fierce determination, his free hand forming a hand sign with a speed that defied his pain.
"Toad Oil Flame Bullet!"
From his mouth, a wave of viscous oil and searing flame burst, engulfing Human Path. It howled in pain, a chilling, inhuman shriek, before erupting into smoke and ash, its form consumed by the inferno.
The other Paths hesitated for the first time, a flicker of something akin to surprise, or perhaps calculation, in their blank eyes.
Jiraiya coughed violently, a desperate, rattling sound, falling to one knee, his body trembling, but a grim satisfaction on his face. "Not so invincible after all, huh? You're just puppets."
Far away, atop a tree overlooking the battlefield, cloaked in shadow, Black Zetsu whispered into Obito's ear, his voice a sibilant hiss.
"It's time to fall back. Your pawns are losing. The Sage is too strong."
Obito clenched his fist, his single Sharingan eye burning with frustration. "We're close. One more push and—"
"You'll die here, like the others," Zetsu hissed, cutting him off, his voice laced with cold logic. "You can't get the other half of the Nine-Tails if you die. The plan is paramount."
Obito snarled, a sound of bitter defeat, but he vanished into Kamui, a swirling vortex of space and time, retreating into the shadows.
Jiraiya didn't have time to notice—Deva Path had raised both arms now, its face utterly expressionless, its power gathering.
A sudden vacuum ripped the air apart, a terrifying compression of space.
"Shinra Tensei!"
The concussive blast didn't just tear through the entire sector; it annihilated it, a devastating pulse of invisible pressure. The remains of homes, walls, and bodies were not just vaporized; they were reduced to dust, swept away by the overwhelming force, leaving behind nothing but a scarred, desolate landscape.
When the smoke cleared, Jiraiya lay broken and bleeding, pinned under a massive, shattered beam, his body a ruin.
He couldn't feel his legs. The pain was immense, but distant, as if his body had finally given up on registering it.
He looked up, his vision swimming, blurring, but a faint, defiant smile touched his lips.
The Outer Path was approaching, its grotesque, demonic face staring down at him, its eyes cold, empty.
But Jiraiya, with a final, desperate surge of will, raised his hand. His index finger glowed with a faint, final pulse of chakra, a last ember of his power.
Carved into the stone beneath his hand, unseen by Pain, was a final, intricate seal.
"Fuinjutsu: Toad-Soul Binding Seal."
A massive toad didn't just emerge from the debris; a spectral guardian of stone and smoke, immense and ancient, materialized with a roar. It lunged at the Outer Path, its maw wide, and devoured it whole before vanishing in a swirl of sealing symbols, taking the Path's essence with it.
The remaining Paths of Pain froze. One of their own—their anchor, their source of revival—was gone.
They could no longer revive. They were mortal now.
Deva Path's eyes widened—not with emotion, but with a chilling, calculating realization. The game had changed.
Jiraiya's body collapsed, the last of his chakra flickering out, his life force spent, his mission complete.
Above him, thunder rolled, a final, mournful salute.
He thought of Naruto, smiling with ramen, his future stretching bright before him. Of Tsunade, calling him an idiot, her fierce, unwavering friendship. Of Minato and Kushina, their love, their legacy. Of the book he never got to finish, the story of a hero who never gave up.
A single tear rolled down the side of his cheek, mingling with the rain and blood.
"Maybe now... I can rest."
His heart stopped.
And the rain fell harder, washing over the silent, broken form of the Toad Sage, a hero who had truly danced his last.