"Tsunade, this is the first time I've seen you rate someone so highly."
Jiraiya spoke with a sigh, then teased, "Someone who didn't know better would think you were talking about your teacher, not your student."
"Hmph, that old man can't compare to him."
Tsunade answered without hesitation, "If you said my grandfather, that'd be closer."
Jiraiya was even more surprised at that.
He knew what place Senju Hashirama held in Tsunade's heart—unparalleled. Beyond strength, there were emotional reasons too.
But he hadn't expected Natsume to be someone she'd compare to Hashirama.
Not simple at all.
Jiraiya laughed heartily. "Looks like I need to stay a few more days and get to know him properly."
"He won't disappoint you."
The corners of Tsunade's lips quirked up. "I'm not sure if he's the Child of Prophecy you mentioned, but he definitely has the qualifications."
"Mm."
Jiraiya nodded. If nothing else, he fully acknowledged Natsume's strength.
He was experienced and had seen many tailed beasts. Each possessed devastating power and terrifying aura that ordinary people couldn't hope to match.
There were only a handful in the entire shinobi world who could defeat them.
"Tsunade, I've noticed your temper's improved a lot."
Jiraiya looked her over with a smile.
"Has it?"
Tsunade raised a brow. "If no one's annoying me, I don't lose my temper."
"All right then, I guess I'm the one who annoys you."
Jiraiya's smile faded into a wry grin.
"You? You stopped annoying me long ago."
Tsunade's lips curved again despite herself. "Natsume is so outstanding now, but he used to be pretty mischievous."
Jiraiya paused.
Tsunade's expression looked too blissful. It reminded him of when Nawaki was still around.
Does she see Natsume as a younger brother?
Realization dawned on Jiraiya.
No wonder her evaluation was so high—unrealistically high. In Tsunade's telling, Natsume wasn't just powerful; he was also exceptionally capable in handling Konoha's affairs.
Formidably all-around, like a powered-up Sarutobi Hiruzen and Namikaze Minato rolled into one.
"Tsunade, looks like your retirement life isn't bad at all."
Jiraiya took a sip of water. "I'm a bit jealous, but I can't retire yet."
Tsunade glanced at him, knowing he meant Mount Myoboku.
She actually had a middling opinion of the Great Toad Sage—because it meddled in too many things. It was hard to call it merely a summoning beast anymore; it felt more like a faction of its own.
At the same time, being its contractor meant being the busiest—or rather, being driven.
As the Shikkotsu Forest's contractor, Tsunade herself lived quite freely. Orochimaru was similar: aside from using Ryuchi Cave snakes in battle, he was hardly constrained day to day.
Only Jiraiya was constantly running here and there.
"Want to stay for dinner?"
Tsunade set her thoughts aside and smiled. "Natsume is a very good cook. You should try it."
She knew what Mount Myoboku meant to Jiraiya. So she understood words wouldn't change anything. If words worked, even Sarutobi Hiruzen wouldn't have been helpless.
As a shinobi, he ignored the Hokage's orders and ran off constantly. Luckily he was the Hokage's student; otherwise he'd have been branded a rogue ninja long ago.
"No need."
Jiraiya felt a strange resistance. Maybe because he'd noticed how much Tsunade cared about Natsume, which gave him an inexplicable sense of loss.
But he had no right to say anything. Because he was busy with Mount Myoboku's tasks, he owed Konoha. He wasn't around during many crises—like the Nine-Tails' rampage. If he were just a Konoha ninja, he wouldn't have been absent, and might have saved his student, Namikaze Minato.
"I'll come by another day and treat you to a drink."
Jiraiya stood up. "I'll be in the village for a while."
Tsunade nodded.
"Then I'll head out."
Jiraiya waved, opened the door, and stepped onto the street. He exhaled, thought for a moment, and decided to first determine whether Natsume was the prophesied child.
He leaped away and soon arrived at the Sarutobi clan grounds.
"Yo, old man, fishing? Think you'll catch anything?"
"What's this? You come back just to snark at your teacher?"
Sarutobi Hiruzen held a kiseru in one hand and a fishing rod in the other.
"When did I do that?"
Jiraiya sat beside him, glanced at the bucket, and chuckled. "Why's it empty?"
"I just started!"
Sarutobi shot him a glare. "And keep it down, don't scare my fish."
"Okay, okay."
Jiraiya lowered his voice and fell quiet.
Half an hour later, Sarutobi still hadn't caught a thing. He tossed the rod aside. "This is your fault. Not a single fish."
"…?"
Jiraiya's eyes widened. "Old man, that's too much. I didn't say a word."
"Out with it. What do you want?"
Sarutobi deftly shifted the topic.
"It's about Natsume."
Jiraiya's expression turned serious. "Old man, what do you think of him?"
Sarutobi was taken aback, clearly not expecting that question. He took a drag and sighed. "A despair-inducing genius."
"In terms of strength, I agree."
Jiraiya nodded. "What about character? Say, your specialty—the Will of Fire."
"Also good."
Sarutobi thought of something, stood, went inside, and soon returned with a pile of documents.
"What's this?"
Jiraiya took them, puzzled.
"Natsume's reflections on the Will of Fire during his academy days. Some parts even surprised me."
Sarutobi smiled. "Whatever his character might be, everything he's done so far has benefited Konoha."
"I'll take these and have a look."
Jiraiya stowed the papers. "I heard from Tsunade he's very capable with administrative affairs."
"He is."
A look of amazement crossed Sarutobi's face. "Let me start with the Konoha Police Department…"
After listening, Jiraiya had only one thought: he must be the Child of Prophecy.
In Jiraiya's view, strength alone couldn't make someone the Child of Prophecy; wisdom was also required. He was supposed to bring peace to the shinobi world. Peace couldn't last on strength alone—just look at Hashirama.
"How strong is Natsume, exactly?"
Jiraiya hesitated, worried that if Natsume was the one destined to destroy Mount Myoboku, that would be no small joke. But it was simple enough to verify—by gauging his power.
"Very strong."
Sarutobi pondered. "Sage Mode plus Wood Release—in terms of display, just a bit below the First Hokage."
His judgment came from legends of Senju Hashirama—like how even Uchiha Madara with Kurama couldn't beat him. He'd heard further details from Uzumaki Mito: Hashirama held an absolute advantage. The strongest tailed beast, Kurama, was like a chick in his hands—no threat at all.
By comparison, Natsume's battle against Shukaku wasn't that absurd. He'd even used True Several Thousand Hands and Top Transformed Buddha—Wood Release techniques bordering on forbidden. Hashirama wouldn't have needed them.
"Can he match the Sage of Six Paths?"
Jiraiya secretly relaxed, but asked anyway. According to Fukasaku, only the Sage of Six Paths could destroy Mount Myoboku.
"Of course not."
Sarutobi blinked, then recalled an old prophecy. "Are you still searching for the ninja who might destroy Mount Myoboku?"
"Yeah."
Jiraiya sighed. "But there's no trace."
"So you suspect Natsume?"
Sarutobi frowned. "He's the Hokage. As a Konoha ninja, how can you think that way?"
"Sorry."
Jiraiya gave an awkward smile. "Just asking. Natsume doesn't have any special eyes, so it can't be him."
"I'll remind you again: you're a Konoha ninja."
Sarutobi looked at him and shook his head, but said no more.
"I understand."
Jiraiya answered solemnly.
"Come on, I'll treat you to a meal. It's been a while since we've had a drink together."
Sarutobi stood, smiling again.
"Old man, I need to visit the Uchiha clan."
Jiraiya scratched his head. "When I get back, I'll join you."
"Still chasing that prophecy, huh?"
Sarutobi waved him off, dissatisfied. "Go, go."
Jiraiya left and soon arrived at the Uchiha compound.
…
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Lord Jiraiya."
Mikoto took a deep breath, making sure she looked normal before pushing the door open. She had been resting after a fierce bout with Natsume, but when she heard Jiraiya had come, she snapped awake, hurriedly changed, and rushed over—no time to bathe.
"It's fine."
Jiraiya looked her over. Her face was rosy, her spirits seemed good—apparently she'd put the clan's tragedy behind her. That made it easier for him to ask.
"Mikoto, I'm here to ask you something."
He chose his words carefully. "How did you escape that night—was it related to the mysterious Wood Release user?"
Mikoto immediately recalled the conditions she'd agreed to with Natsume—some quite excessive. She sat, legs crossing almost on reflex, feeling as if something might spill out.
She steadied herself. "That's all clearly stated in the report we submitted to Konoha."
"Sorry."
Jiraiya assumed she was upset about the painful subject and explained, "It was, but I want more detail."
"What kind of detail?"
Mikoto forced a smile.
Jiraiya felt a stab of guilt, but for Mount Myoboku's sake, he had to continue. "After he saved you, did you sense his motive?"
"I think he wanted the Mangekyo Sharingan."
Mikoto considered. "Looking back, he often used methods to push us toward awakening."
"But didn't he already get Shisui's Mangekyo?"
Jiraiya asked, puzzled.
"Maybe there's an even stronger eye beyond that."
Mikoto guessed.
Jiraiya's first reaction was disbelief—he remembered Uchiha Madara only had the Mangekyo. But thinking it over, it made sense. With just a Mangekyo, how could someone destroy Mount Myoboku? If there was a higher eye, it would be apocalyptic.
"Of course, that's just my side of it."
Mikoto shook her head. "After a few years, he realized we didn't have the talent to awaken Mangekyo, so he abandoned us."
"Abandoned?"
Jiraiya narrowed his eyes. "This may be presumptuous, but if he's not a good person, why didn't he kill you? Is it related to his identity?"
He suspected the man might be from the Uchiha, otherwise he wouldn't know so much about the Mangekyo.
Mikoto hesitated visibly.
Seeing that, Jiraiya leaned in. "Don't worry, I won't tell a second person about this."
"He gave a name, but I think it's impossible."
Mikoto said slowly, "He called himself Uchiha Madara—our ancestor—so he wouldn't kill us."
"Uchiha Madara?!"
Jiraiya shot to his feet, stunned.
Madara, though not on Hashirama's level, was a legendary figure. And even if he hadn't died, he'd be pushing a hundred by now. At that age, he should be in bed, not leaping around like that mysterious powerhouse. And Jiraiya didn't believe anyone could survive against Hashirama.
He frowned and sat again. Still, if Madara were alive, it fit: evil and powerful, with special eyes, from Konoha yet hating Konoha. Targeting Mount Myoboku would be reasonable.
In any case, the urgent matter was to find him.
"Mikoto, besides him, have you seen any other strangers these past few years?"
"Strangers…"
Mikoto fell into thought.
Jiraiya didn't rush her, though he was anxious—just a name wasn't enough, especially with Madara.
After a moment, Mikoto seemed to recall something. "There was one, but I only saw him once, so my impression isn't deep."
"What did he look like?"
Jiraiya's eyes lit up.
"A ninja in a black cloak embroidered with red clouds, wearing a sedge hat with wind chimes."
She paused. "He was a rogue ninja, but I didn't recognize the forehead protector—the symbol looked like a downward arrow."
"Takigakure!"
Jiraiya grew excited. Mikoto, as the clan head's wife, rarely went out and didn't know minor villages well. But he did. That was a solid lead.