Standing before the academy was nostalgic — but only in the worst, most gut-twisting way.
There weren't many happy memories tied to this place for him. This was where he had been the dead last, the brain-dead loser, the boy everyone expected to wash out before he'd even begun.
Looking back now, he could admit he'd been decent — better than decent, even — and that he had only seemed like the dead last because he'd been thrown into a class brimming with prodigies, the cream of Konoha's talent. Simply existing in their orbit as a nameless orphan had been impressive in its own right.
But the young Jiraiya hadn't cared about perspective. Back then, the only thing that mattered was that he'd gotten out. That he'd found a teacher who saw more in him than a punchline. That leaving here had been the first step toward becoming someone worth remembering. His accidental exile to Mount Myōboku had been the true start of his path — the road toward gallantry, toward legend.
Everything before that had felt like little more than a clumsy, awkward prologue. And that included this place.
But he hadn't come here to indulge in old ghosts. He had come for a reason. To take the first step toward preventing a nightmare he had seen too clearly to ignore. All he had to do now… was move.
…Any minute now.
Come on, Jiraiya. You're the Sage of Myōboku. You've fought wars, cheated death, battled monsters. And here you are, hesitating in front of a door because of a little girl. A little girl — the daughter of the man you loved like a son. Your goddaughter. The last piece of family you have left in this world…
…Damn it all. He needed a drink.
XXXXXXXXX
My mind was filled with blinding light.
It hit me like a flashbang made of pure emotion — as if someone had wired my capacity to feel pain, weakness, and terror directly into a set of nuclear reactors and cranked them past their limit. My body was still, my breath stolen, my voice gone. I was nothing but raw, unending agony, a consciousness trapped in a shell that could not move.
"Izuku!" My sensei's voice echoed in my ears and my mind, sharp and commanding, even as my body collapsed sideways into the grass.
"Wake up!"
A sudden jolt of foreign chakra ripped through me, breaking whatever hold had taken root and shattering the grip my spiritual energy had on my root chakra. The pain vanished in an instant — but my body didn't believe it yet. Convulsions wracked me as my muscles caught up to the trauma I had just endured.
"Calm, Izuku… calm. It is not real. Relax."
I forced my eyes open, my mind feeling tender, stiff — not from physical damage, but from something deeper, a mental strain.
"What was that?!" Kuro's voice cut through the haze as I felt her chakra wrap around me. Warm arms pulled me close, and I didn't resist.
"The effects were as multifarious as they were unexpected," my sensei said, his tone measured. "His chakra system behaved as though he had opened a Gate. His chakra spiked in both amount and potency. Thankfully, his chakra network is currently sealed, or the strain would have been even worse."
"Is he going to be okay?" Kuro asked, her fingers combing gently through my hair.
"I believe so. Isn't that right, Izuku?"
"My mind feels like diced pork," I muttered.
Kuro began massaging my temples.
"He can speak, and my scan shows no physical damage. He is fine," my sensei sighed with relief. I ignored him entirely, melting into Kuro's care.
He chuckled softly at my antics.
"So the strain was mostly mental?" he questioned.
"…More spiritual," I murmured.
"A spiritual alternative to the Eight Gates… of course. The possibilities…" His tone shifted, sharp with realisation and dangerous calculation. "And the monks had us all fooled — pretending they held nothing of value beyond their secret chakra techniques."
He turned to Guy. "We have work to do. Messages to send. Meetings to hold. Guy, follow me."
The spandex clad jonin stood at attention with a grave nod.
Before leaving, my sensei addressed the others.
"My student has a… tendency to be involved in matters I must classify as S-class secrets. This will not change. If you wish to remain around him, you must be prepared to treat much of what you witness in his presence as such. If you cannot do so, speak now, and arrangements will be made so you cannot divulge what you have already learned."
His words drew uneasy glances — even from me. What the hell, Sensei?
"I assure you," he continued, "none of the methods to maintain that secrecy will harm you."
That reassurance eased Neji and Tenten's tension, but the idea still sat heavy in my chest. The truth was dangerous. It made sense that being close to someone who pursued it without fear would never be safe.
The perils of being a true wizard.
No one chose to walk away. Not Lee, not Kuro, not even Neji and Tenten — though I could read their motives as clearly as their chakra. Pride for Neji. I didn't imagine the young sorcerer could be swayed by pointing out his inadequacies or warning him about his inability to handle the fallout.
Ambition for Tenten. That one surprised me — though it really shouldn't have. She was a civilian-born shinobi with dreams. Big dreams, if I had to guess. Nobody put in the kind of work she did without aiming high.
Spending time around an S-class secret generator could mean stepping through the gates into a rare, elite circle of trust.
Satisfied, my sensei looked at me — still lying in Kuro's lap, where I intended to stay. His expression was all exasperation, but his chakra radiated a perverse pride.
You're not fooling anyone, old man. I thought, though I still got up to give my Sensei a respectful send off.
"Good work, Izuku. But refrain from testing this technique without supervision."
"Of course, Sensei."
"Today has been hectic enough. Go enjoy yourself. Buy your friends something nice." My sensei said reaching into his robe and pulling out another wad of cash
"More money? Sensei, I haven't even finished what you gave me last time."
"I am a wealthy old man, Izuku-kun. What else am I going to spend it on?"
"Yourself?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
And with that, both he and Guy vanished in a blur.
"Food?" I asked the group.
"I'm not turning down a free meal on the Hokage's dime," Tenten said.
Neji grunted in agreement. Lee, however, looked longingly at the corner of the training ground stacked with free weights.
"Lee, the equipment isn't going anywhere. We can come back after." Tenten said with rolled eyes.
"…But… youth…"
"Think of it as refueling — so you can train even harder." I advised.
"Yosh! I am in your care, Izuku-san!"
"One second." I bit my finger, smearing the blood on my hands as my mind flashed through the seals. My palm struck the ground, a net of fuinjutsu racing outward. With a puff of smoke, my summon appeared.
"Izuku-sama! How may I serve you?!" Himebuta declared with a bow.
"Relax, Himebuta. We're just getting food, and I thought I'd bring my new friend along."
He hesitated, chakra flickering with confusion.
"Unless you don't want to come?"
"No! I mean… Yes! I would love to dine with Izuku-sama!"
"Alright, buddy — hop on." I offered my shoulder, and after a moment's pause he climbed up and we were on our way.
XXXXXXXXX
"I was wrong in my judgment," Neji said out of nowhere as we sat down to eat. "You have a greater fate than would be expected from one of your birth."
"Fate?" I asked, curious at his choice of word.
I felt Himebuta tense on my shoulder, the usually timid and docile monkey prickling at the young Hyuga's words. A light tap on the shoulder from me to show that I wasn't offended calmed him.
"Oh boy, here we go again," Tenten muttered around a mouthful of vegetables, but Neji ignored her.
"Everyone is a result of their circumstances," he continued. "Some have destinies greater than others. Prodigies like you and me are destined for greatness, while others—no matter how hard they work—will never catch up."
He glanced into the distance, his chakra radiating a strange mix of restrained malice, begrudging respect, and something that might have been the beginnings of affection.
"…But even prodigies are lesser than those of greater destiny."
That was a lot to drop on me over lunch. I hadn't expected Neji to be the type to just unload his worldview like that, but people surprise you. Still… regardless of what he'd said, I found his train of thought—
"Fascinating," I said at last. "No wonder you're a prodigy with the Byakugan."
Neji blinked, confused.
"Mindset is essential to mastering a bloodline… a kekkei genkai," I corrected myself at his puzzled look over the English term.
"I am aware."
"You are?"
"Hinata-sama has been… forthcoming about her methods of advancement. Is that a problem?"
"No."
The hermit wizard in me bristled at the thought of my secrets escaping the den, but the scholar in me won out. Freedom of information was important for progress. Since no one else wanted to share, I might as well be the first—though I wouldn't give away everything. The hermit still needed something to keep for myself and my loved ones. After all, a wizard isn't a wizard if he hasn't spread some wisdom.
Neji studied me carefully, then nodded. There was the faintest tinge of disappointment in his chakra. It took me a moment to realize why—this guy had wanted to start something with me. I should've been annoyed, but honestly, I was reassured. All was right with the world. Hinata's cinnamon-roll nature had been messing with my expectations, but here was proof she was the exception, not the rule.
Sorcerers remained sorcerers.
"Wait," Tenten broke in, looking at me like I'd grown another head. "You're saying his whole spiel about fate might have actually made him more talented?"
"To an extent," I replied. "From what I know, the Byakugan requires a certain detachment. If you believe everything is the unseen hand of fate, that could provide the emotional distance needed to master it."
"You do not believe in fate?" Neji asked, his gaze sharpening.
"Yes and no," I said after a moment's thought.
Neji's eyes narrowed.
"Okay, there's an ant," I said—and without seals, cast a small genjutsu on everyone at the table. A tiny ant appeared, crawling across the wood. Tenten flinched and dispelled it with a whispered Kai, while Neji's Byakugan flared.
Wordlessly, I recast the illusion for Tenten.
"It's just to get my point across. Please don't dispel it."
She hesitated, then let it be.
"Anyway—there's an ant. To the ant, this table is an endless expanse, a long journey to cross. If no one warns it, and it runs forward at full speed, it'll reach the edge without seeing it coming and fall." My illusory ant did just that, tumbling into nothing before fading from existence.
"Can we say it was its fate to fall?" I asked.
"Yes." Neji replied without hesitation.
"But what if I caught it before it fell? Would that be my fate to save it? And what about its fate?"
"You saved it because it is an ant and you are a boy." Neji said. "You are bigger. This does not apply to us. For some, our fate is as unavoidable as that ant's fall." His chakra boiled with quiet resentment.
"Then get bigger."
Neji stared.
"The ant could've seen the edge if it had a farseeing jutsu," I continued. "A well-applied technique—if powerful enough—can solve almost any problem."
A glow lit behind Neji's eyes.
"Fate bows before those with the power to change it."
…That wasn't exactly the point I was trying to make.
But before I could clarify, a wave of malice rolled over us all—thick, suffocating, hateful.
Hatred I recognized.
The Nine-Tails.
XXXXXXXXX
School has been weird lately. Not necessarily good. Not necessarily bad. Just… weird.
People had started treating her differently the day Izuku showed up. At first, a lot of the girls gave her these pitying, almost sympathetic looks when they passed in the halls. That all changed the moment word got out that Izuku was Jiji's student.
Suddenly those looks weren't pity anymore — they were back to the usual malice. But this time, they felt different. Less disdain. More… envy? Naruko didn't know what to do with that. No one had ever been envious of her before.
A small, vindictive part of her wanted to rub their noses in it. That part of herself was growing louder these days, the walls she'd built to keep her darker impulses at bay slowly breaking down under the influence of her friends. She didn't let herself give in — acknowledging those feelings was one thing, letting them control her actions was another.
But it was tempting.
One of the few people who wasn't jealous was Sakura-chan. Most of the Teme's fangirls — apart from Ino — were, despite their proclaimed undying love for the last Uchiha.
Iruka-sensei, at least, had been supportive. She'd had to explain to him that she and Izuku weren't doing anything "weird." Well, apart from the kissing. But that was nothing compared to what adults got up to when they thought no orange-clad children were crawling through their ceilings.
That thought had her zoning out at her desk, idly thinking about Izuku and kissing. Which is why, despite her improving awareness, she didn't sense the large man standing over her until she smelled the sake on his breath.
"Naruko! You're coming with me!"
She opened her mouth to tell him where to shove it — and then the classroom blurred. Her classmates were left gaping, Iruka-sensei's expression snapping from shock to fury as the world reformed into an empty training ground not far from the academy.
"Naruko! Guess what… I have— hiccup—something to say."
"Urgh. You smell like a dumpster," Naruko said, stepping back.
Jiraiya sniffed at himself, grimaced, and muttered, "Later."
"Look," he began, placing heavy hands on her shoulders and giving her a full blast of beer breath. "I'm… I'm… dammit, I—"
"Get off me!" Naruko snapped, shoving him hard. The Toad Sage let himself be pushed, sprawling in the dirt.
He didn't move.
Naruko frowned, stepped closer, and poked him in the ribs. "Hey, you alive?"
He mumbled something into the dirt.
"What?"
She rolled him over.
"…," he muttered again.
Naruko leaned in, and this time heard him clearly.
"…I'm your godfather."
Naruko froze. The words sank in like molten metal poured into her veins. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, her jaw locking until her molars creaked.
She grabbed the Toad Sannin by the collar, her grip so tight the fabric strained like old leather. "Say that again."
Too drunk to register the danger in her voice, Jiraiya repeated himself. "I'm your godfather," he said, guilt and apology clouding his eyes.
Naruko didn't care.
"If that's true… then where the fuck were you?!" she snarled, her canines lengthening.
Jiraiya, drowning in guilt, couldn't even look her in the eye. "…I'm sorry," was all he could manage.
The silence that followed was broken only by the rustle of leaves and the grind of Naruko's teeth.
"You're sorry?" she whispered. "…You're sorry…"
Her fury boiled. She tried to keep it contained, but the deep, dark pit that had once swallowed her rage was gone. All that negativity now floated free — like methane gas in a damp, airless cave, waiting for a single spark.
Jiraiya had just lit the match.
Red chakra exploded over Naruko as she hauled him off the ground with demonic strength.
"What—" he began, but her whisper cut him off like a blade.
"…I hate you…"
"Naruko—"
"I hate you!" she roared, slamming him into the earth.
"I hate you!" The ground cratered at the point of impact.
"I hate you!" The earth rumbled as Naruko battered it with the toad sage's stunned body.
"I hate you!" Jiraiya struck the earth again with a thunderous boom, his assailant now backed by demonic strength. She had no intention of stopping.
The ground cratered under each impact, her voice growing more feral with every scream.
Jiraiya stared in horror as crimson chakra bubbled around his goddaughter. The black hatred in her eyes cut through the alcoholic haze, forcing him to see the danger for what it was.
And when the beginnings of a second tail rippled into existence behind her, he knew just how utterly, hopelessly fucked he was.