Jiraiya sat at the small wooden desk in his temporary quarters, the dim candlelight flickering over the parchment before him. The Slug Summoning Contract lay unrolled, its ancient ink glowing faintly under the chakra-sensitive paper. He stared at the name inscribed beneath his own—the name of the woman who had outmaneuvered him so thoroughly the day before. Sayori Arata.
Something about it felt wrong. His instincts, honed through decades of espionage, screamed at him that this was no ordinary name, no ordinary woman. He had been played, and he hated being played. His fingers tightened around his brush as he carefully traced over the ink, channeling a whisper of chakra into it. For a brief second, the characters flickered. The ink rippled unnaturally before settling back into place.
Jiraiya narrowed his eyes. That wasn't normal.
Grabbing a different sealing brush, he dipped it into chakra-enhanced ink and tried again, this time carefully layering his own chakra over the name. The shift was almost imperceptible, but there it was. The kanji of Sayori Arata momentarily twisted and blurred, revealing something beneath it—something much more complex.
His breath caught as the hidden characters revealed themselves for the briefest of moments. Not a name, but a seal. A name-concealing Uzumaki seal. And beneath it, a different name flickered. Raven Kamizuki.
Jiraiya's blood ran cold.
Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the name was gone, replaced by the perfectly ordinary, harmless Sayori Arata. The seal reset itself, as if daring him to try again.
He exhaled sharply, leaning back. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as realization sank in. This woman wasn't just hiding something—she was a master of deception on a level he had never seen before. If he hadn't specifically tested for it, he never would have known.
"Who the hell are you?" he muttered to himself, rubbing his temples.
His first instinct was to report this to Hiruzen, but something stopped him. Sayori—no, Raven—hadn't actually done anything wrong. She had taken in Naruto, legally. She had manipulated him, sure, but she hadn't broken any laws. If he went to the Hokage with this, what would he even say? That he got tricked? That she was too good at covering her tracks?
No, he needed to go straight to the source.
At dawn, Jiraiya strode into Sayori's estate with the kind of confidence only a man on a mission could carry. He wasn't stopped. The staff barely glanced at him as he made his way through the pristine halls, past blooming gardens and tranquil walkways. It only confirmed what he already suspected. He was expected.
He found her exactly where he thought he would—in the courtyard, beneath the shade of a cherry blossom tree, sipping tea as though she had no care in the world. The air was too calm, too composed, as if the very space around her bent to her will.
Jiraiya didn't waste time. He walked straight up, unrolled the contract, and slammed it onto the table.
"What the hell kind of trick is this?"
Sayori barely blinked. She lifted her eyes from her tea to glance at the parchment, then back at him, expression perfectly composed.
"Oh? Did I sign something improper?"
Jiraiya scowled, jabbing a finger at the name. "Your name. It's a damn seal."
At that, she actually smiled. "Indeed."
The admission sent a fresh wave of irritation through him. "You don't even deny it?"
She reached for her tea, taking a slow sip before answering. "Why would I? You found it, didn't you?"
Jiraiya gritted his teeth. "That's not normal. That's something Uzumaki-level. That's the kind of thing people use to erase themselves from history."
Sayori tilted her head, as if humoring him. "And?"
"And?" Jiraiya repeated incredulously. "That means you're hiding your real identity. That means that everything—your wealth, your influence, your ties to the Uzumaki—might be fake!"
Sayori sighed, setting her teacup down with a soft clink. "Jiraiya. Do you truly believe that any person who wields real power in this world does so with complete transparency?"
Jiraiya opened his mouth, then shut it. He hated that she had a point.
She watched him carefully, her expression as unreadable as ever. "I protect my identity because power invites enemies. You, of all people, should understand that."
Jiraiya clenched his fists, frustration mounting. "Then what's your real name?"
Sayori smiled. "Would it matter?"
Jiraiya groaned, running a hand down his face. "Woman, do you ever give a straight answer?"
"Rarely."
Jiraiya exhaled sharply, dragging a chair out and slumping into it. He had lost again. Completely. But at this point, he wasn't even sure what game they were playing.
For a moment, they sat in silence. Then, Sayori reached out and calmly rolled the contract back up, as if the conversation was already settled. "Now that we've moved past this little tantrum, let's talk about Naruto's training."
Jiraiya sat up, instantly refocused. "You're still allowing it?"
Sayori hummed, tapping a finger against her chin. "I suppose I must."
Jiraiya eyed her warily. "There's a catch."
She smiled. "Always."
He sighed. "Alright. What is it?"
Sayori folded her hands neatly in her lap. "If I catch you corrupting my son with your perverted ways, I will sentence you to dishwashing duty for the remainder of your stay in Konoha."
Jiraiya paled.
"You—you wouldn't."
Sayori took another sip of tea. "Try me."
Jiraiya visibly shuddered. "That's… that's far worse than any battlefield."
Sayori nodded sagely. "I know."
For the first time in his entire life, Jiraiya felt genuine, soul-crushing fear. Not of death. Not of war. But of endless chores.
Jiraiya straightened, gulping. "Understood. No corrupting influences."
Sayori inclined her head in satisfaction. "Good boy."
Jiraiya twitched violently.
As he stood to leave, he hesitated, glancing back at her. "…One last question."
Sayori lifted an eyebrow.
"If you're hiding your real name… does that mean Naruto doesn't even know who you really are?"
For the first time, Sayori's expression actually changed. It was fleeting, barely more than a flicker, but Jiraiya caught it—the hesitation.
"No," she admitted quietly. "He doesn't."
Jiraiya studied her, eyes narrowing slightly. "Why?"
Sayori exhaled softly, staring down at her tea. "Because some truths are more dangerous than lies."
Jiraiya didn't know why, but the answer bothered him.
He left the estate feeling more unsettled than when he had arrived. The woman had tricked him, robbed him, humiliated him, and threatened him with the worst fate imaginable—chores.
And yet.
As he walked through the streets of Konoha, he found himself more intrigued than ever.
"…Just who the hell are you, Sayori?" he muttered under his breath.
Somewhere back in the estate, Sayori sat alone, fingers brushing over the contract—the name concealing seal pulsing faintly beneath her touch.
She smiled.
The game had only just begun.
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