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Chapter 294: Frog Hut
After leaving the town, the two followed a dried riverbed northward.
The ground was still muddy, but as they traveled higher, the soil became firmer and the puddles fewer. In the sparse woods on the distant hills, the silhouette of a low-lying building peeked through the trees.
Konan's gaze had been fixed in that direction the entire time.
"That's the Frog Hut," she said. "The place where Jiraiya-sensei taught us ninjutsu."
Alex followed her gaze.
The building was small, resembling an abandoned shrine or a hunter's cabin. It stood isolated on the hill, surrounded only by wild grass and a few crooked trees.
"We spent three happy years here with Jiraiya-sensei," Konan added softly, stepping forward.
They passed through the sparse woods and arrived at the cabin.
Up close, the hut looked even more dilapidated. The wooden walls had blackened with age, with many planks peeling or completely missing, exposing the inner framework. The thatched roof was pitifully thin, with gaps wide enough to see the sky. One door hung half-open. One window was shattered, while the other was boarded up tightly.
The clearing in front of the door was overgrown with weeds. Several flat rocks, worn smooth, lay scattered about, looking exactly like makeshift seats.
Konan stopped at the edge of the clearing, her eyes sweeping over the desolate scene in silence. Alex remained quiet beside her. The wind rustled the tall grass.
After a long time, Konan finally stepped into the clearing.
She walked over to the rocks, crouched down, and reached out to touch the surface of one. It had been rubbed incredibly smooth, clearly showing signs of someone sitting on it for a long period of time.
"This was Yahiko's stone," Konan smiled. "He was always fidgeting. He was always squirming around while trying to practice, so he ended up polishing it round."
She reached out and touched the one next to it.
"This was Nagato's. He always sat perfectly straight, completely motionless. He could sit there for a whole day."
Finally, she walked to the third rock and sat down gently.
"This one was mine."
Alex walked over and stood beside her. Looking down, he noticed the rock was slightly smaller than the other two, worn down but much flatter.
"Jiraiya-sensei would stand right here." Konan raised a hand, pointing to the center of the clearing. "He taught us ninjutsu, showed us how to refine chakra, and explained basic ninja theory. He seemed so lazy, always acting like a complete slacker, but he was incredibly serious when he taught."
Her gaze lingered on the empty space, as if she could still see the silhouettes of three youths.
Yahiko was always the most eager. Every time he learned a new jutsu, he'd shout in excitement and drag Nagato up to spar with him.
Nagato was always quiet, but he learned the fastest. Almost everything Jiraiya taught, he could master on the first try.
And her? She wasn't as outgoing as Yahiko, nor was she a genius like Nagato. But she worked hard, always practicing a technique many more times than the others.
"We had nothing back then," Konan's voice was soft. "No home, no family, no money. We barely had enough to eat. But we had Jiraiya-sensei, we had each other, and we had a roof over our heads."
She looked up at the rundown shack.
"When it rained, we'd hide inside. The room was tiny, but with the four of us crammed together, it felt really warm. Jiraiya-sensei would tell us stories—tales from his travels across the ninja world, the powerful people he'd met, and the bizarre ninjutsu he'd seen. Yahiko was the most invested; he'd constantly interrupt to ask, 'And then? And then?' Nagato didn't say anything, but I could see his eyes shining. As for me..."
She trailed off.
"I would just sit there hoping... hoping days like that would never end."
Alex simply sat on the ground beside her, quietly listening. For this nostalgic journey, he only needed to be a good listener.
Konan glanced at him, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly.
"Later, when we finished our training, Jiraiya-sensei told us he had nothing left to teach. The day he left, Yahiko cried incredibly hard, and Nagato's eyes were red. I didn't cry. I just stood right here and watched him go."
Konan stared at the spot where Jiraiya used to stand and sighed.
"Who could have guessed that our next reunion would be a fight to the death."
She said it very calmly, but Alex could feel the crushing weight behind the words.
What happened later followed the original story. Yahiko died. Nagato became Pain. Konan became the 'Angel'. And during that battle in the Village Hidden in the Rain, Jiraiya ultimately died at Nagato's hands.
"Konan, you can do anything now. The tragedies of the past aren't impossible to change."
If they could resurrect Nagato and Yahiko, they could naturally resurrect Jiraiya as well.
Konan fell silent, understanding what Alex meant.
During that battle with Jiraiya-sensei in the Rain Village, she had stood in the shadows, watching with her own eyes as he died, his body pierced by countless black receivers. Even though she had long since numbed her heart, tears had still silently streamed down her face.
"Let's go," Konan suddenly stood up, dusting off her skirt. "Let's take a look inside."
She pushed the half-open door and walked in. Alex followed.
It was dark inside. The only illumination came from the few rays of sunlight slipping through the broken window and the cracks in the walls. The air smelled of mildew and rotting wood. The earthen floor yielded softly beneath their boots.
In the corner sat a pile of decomposed straw—what was once their 'bed'.
In the opposite corner was a crude stove with a cracked pot resting on top. A thick layer of ash coated the bottom.
Faint scratches and scribbles were visible on the walls. There were crude drawings of Fire Release and Water Release seals, along with a clumsily written character for 'Ninja'.
Konan's eyes traced over every mark before finally landing on a wooden pillar near the stove.
Carved into the pillar were four names. The letters were uneven and crooked—obviously a child's handiwork—but every stroke had been etched deeply, as if the carver was terrified time would wipe it away.
Jiraiya-sensei Beneath it were three smaller names:
YahikoNagatoKonan Konan reached out, lightly brushing her fingers over the carvings. Her touch was incredibly gentle, as if afraid to disturb something fragile.
"We carved this while Jiraiya-sensei was outside fishing," she whispered. "Yahiko said we needed to carve sensei's name here so that even after he left, we'd never forget him. Nagato agreed, and so did I."
Alex stepped beside her, looking at the pillar. The wood was beginning to rot, and the carvings had blurred, but they were still legible. Twenty years of time hadn't been enough to erase them completely.
Konan stood before the pillar for a long time. Then, she turned and walked toward the door.
"Let's go."
Her voice was calm, but Alex noticed the slight redness at the corners of her eyes.
The two stepped out of the cabin, back into the sunlight. The wind rustled the grass, and birds chirped from the distant woods. The sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue. The sun gilded the withered thatch of the cabin's roof in gold.
Konan looked back one last time.
The little hut was still rundown, still desolate, still standing all alone on the hill.
But there was no longer any sadness in her eyes. Only a gentle, quiet nostalgia.
. . .
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