Chapter 145: Jiraiya, Let Me End All This
"Bullshit! She's clearly the one who bumped into me first, she should... ah—!"
The drunkard's slurred protests twisted into a high-pitched shriek. The black-haired young man standing beside Jia simply applied a fraction more pressure to the man's wrist. Bone ground against bone, emitting a sickening creak that threatened to snap the joint entirely.
The sharp spike of pain instantly sobered the drunkard up. Sweat beaded on his greasy forehead as he bowed frantically, apologizing to Jia from the very bottom of his heart, spitting out a rapid-fire string of sorries.
The moment the young man loosened his iron grip, the drunkard spun on his heel and bolted. He stumbled over his own feet several times, crashing through the bustling festival crowd before completely disappearing from sight.
Jia barely spared the fleeing man a glance. She turned her flat, indifferent eyes toward the young man. "You've got the wrong person. Thanks."
Without waiting for a response, she returned the throwing darts to the terrified stall owner and turned to melt back into the dense sea of pedestrians.
"Wait, you haven't taken your prize yet."
The young man picked up a stray dart from the counter. Without even looking, he flicked his wrist, tossing it casually at the spinning wooden wheel. It struck the board with a sharp thwack, landing dead center on the narrow row designated for the grand prize.
He plucked the carved wooden fish pendant from the vendor's trembling hands, jogged a few steps to catch up to Jia, and firmly pressed it into her left hand.
"This is for you."
Jia stared at the small wooden fish, then lifted her gaze to study his face for a few long seconds. She closed her fingers around the pendant and resumed walking in silence.
The young man fell into step beside her with an easy, unearned familiarity. "Where are you going? I'm very familiar with this area. I can be your guide and show you the way."
"It's not convenient."
"It's very convenient. I have nothing but time, so I can keep you company the whole way."
He stuck to Jia like glue. No matter how much she radiated an aura of freezing hostility, he simply brushed it off, matching her pace stride for stride. Whenever Jia paused for even a second to glance at a colorful mask, a candied apple, or a roadside trinket, he would immediately slap down a handful of coins, buy it, and shove it toward her.
After just one lap around the bustling market street, her left arm was completely loaded down with various random items.
When the sky began to darken and Jia finally headed toward a place to eat, he took the lead, guiding her into the most luxurious, high-end restaurant in town and loudly declaring that it was his treat.
He played the role perfectly. He acted exactly like a wealthy, shameless playboy who had stumbled across a pretty girl on the street and refused to take no for an answer.
As they walked past a steaming hot spring bathhouse across the street, Jia's gaze shifted subtly toward the billowing steam.
The young man caught the look, his eyes lighting up. He scratched the back of his head with an awkward, goofy grin. "Um, do you want to soak in the hot springs? My treat, of course. We could, you know, relax."
Jia stared at him, utterly speechless.
Such painfully familiar words. He used to say the exact same garbage in the past, and apparently, he was still saying it now.
She gave a slow, deliberate shake of her head and stepped through the sliding doors of the restaurant.
Taking a seat at a private table, the young man immediately flagged down a waiter and ordered every single signature dish the house had to offer. When the plates arrived, Jia noted with mild amusement that every single item placed on the table was something she genuinely liked to eat.
Jia slowly and methodically enjoyed the grand feast. However, when she glanced up and saw the person sitting opposite her expertly downing a small ceramic cup of strong sake, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed her features.
"You've learned how to drink?"
"Yeah." The young man swirled the clear liquid in his cup, staring at his own reflection. "Training alone is too lonely. Orochimaru said that drinking can help you relax, so I tried it. The effect is quite good. Do you want to try some?"
Hearing the name Orochimaru casually drop from his lips, Jia's chopsticks paused mid-air. She slowly lowered her hand, her dark gaze locking onto the young man's face.
"Drop the act, Jiraiya."
With a soft poof of white smoke, the illusion shattered. The generic black-haired youth sitting across from her melted away, transforming back into the towering, broad-shouldered figure of Jiraiya.
After years apart, the once-passionate, loudmouthed youth with messy silver hair had finally shed his lingering immaturity. The lines of his face were sharper, his jaw set with a heavy weight. His eyes, once entirely filled with reckless bravado, now held a deep sense of clarity and solemn responsibility, settled into his bones by the harsh passage of time.
His gaze remained fixed intently on her, completely devoid of any panic at having his disguise exposed.
"I never expected to fool you with such a simple Transformation Technique. Jia, long time no see."
It had indeed been a long time. Five years ago, Stelle had needed to hide the fact that she hadn't actually killed Jiraiya from the ever-watchful eyes of Black Zetsu. To pull it off, she had ruthlessly tricked Jiraiya into retreating to Mount Myōboku to train, binding him with a strict five-year promise.
It took a full five years for him to finally step out into the world again.
However, the current situation felt entirely off. Theoretically, from the exact moment she severed her ties and left Konoha, she and Jiraiya were supposed to be enemies on parallel lines, never to cross paths again until one of them died.
Yet, how long had it actually been since Jiraiya left Mount Myōboku? A few weeks? A month? His intelligence-gathering abilities had become far too terrifying if he had tracked her down this quickly.
"How did you find me?" Jia asked, releasing her own Transformation Technique. The subtle disguise washed away, returning her features to their original, cold striking form.
Jiraiya made no attempt to hide his methods. He set his empty cup down on the wooden table.
"The fight you had with the Eight-Tails Jinchuriki in the Land of Rice Fields was too sensational to cover up. The terrain was devastated. Konoha's intelligence system received the news almost immediately. I used the highest-level access rights to the intelligence network given to me by Sarutobi-sensei, combined with the Messenger Toads of Mount Myōboku, to lock onto two highly probable locations."
He paused, his eyes tracing the empty space where her right arm used to be. "Originally, I wasn't entirely sure if I'd find you in this specific direction, but I got lucky. I ran into you right here in this town."
So it was actually because of Blue B that her whereabouts had been leaked.
Jia mentally slapped her forehead. She had been far too careless, letting the thrill of farming mood values blind her to the trail she was leaving behind.
"My Transformation Technique isn't that bad, is it?" Jia asked, her tone entirely flat. "How did you recognize me on the street?"
How could he not recognize her? Back then, Jia had permanently lost an arm because of a catastrophic Transformation Technique incident.
After that traumatic event, Jiraiya had spent an agonizingly long time studying directly under the Anbu, specifically torturing himself to learn high-level techniques for intelligence gathering, tracking, and information collection. He refused to be blind again.
When his gaze had locked onto the disguised Jia in the market, those hard-earned skills allowed him to perceive the subtle wrongness in her posture at a single glance.
"I wouldn't have recognized you at first," Jiraiya admitted, his voice low and raspy. "But you used your left hand the entire time. You never once shifted your weight to accommodate a right arm. Besides, the Transformation Technique only changes physical appearance; certain aspects of a person's core aura cannot be masked. Jia's aura is very special. I recognized it the second I got close."
Jiraiya lifted the ceramic jug and poured himself another cup of wine. He threw his head back, the burning liquid sliding slowly down his throat. He set the cup down with a heavy thud and stared directly into her eyes.
"Jia... Blue B's younger sister was taken by you and that person behind the scenes, right? Is she still alive?"
Jia's mind raced. Had Blue B actually been willing to share highly classified Kumogakure intelligence with Jiraiya just for a chance to find Ye? That was a massive breach of village protocol. Maybe she should mention this interesting development to Mie later.
Maintaining her perfectly crafted persona, Jia let her eyelids droop, her voice dripping with casual cruelty. "Ah, she's dead. The very thorough kind of dead."
Jiraiya's hand jerked. The ceramic jug clattered against the rim of his cup, spilling clear wine across the polished wooden table.
His eyes instantly filled with a suffocating, agonizing sorrow. But beneath the grief, there was a desperate, clawing confusion.
"Back then... it was that person behind the scenes who deluded you into attacking Hokage-sama, right?" Jiraiya leaned forward, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the table. "What exactly did he do to you? Why did you suddenly become a completely different person?"
Jia met his desperate gaze with the dead, empty eyes of a shark. "It's nothing. He just helped me find a reason to live."
A reason to live?
Did she truly no longer have a single reason to live back in Konoha?
How utterly tragic.
"If you can't find faith in the village, then what about your comrades?" Jiraiya asked, his voice cracking, thick with choked-back emotion. "Tsunade, Orochimaru, and me... we were clearly comrades who trusted each other with our lives. Did none of that mean anything?"
Jia didn't answer. She simply sat there in silence, her dark gaze resting heavily upon him.
"Speaking of which," Jia finally said, her tone devoid of a single trace of warmth, "it's actually quite strange that you're not dead. I clearly didn't hold back that night. It was a killing blow."
She spoke as if everything in this world no longer had anything to do with her. She played the part flawlessly—a woman who had completely severed her humanity to become an emotionless, hollow killing machine.
Jiraiya's breathing grew ragged and heavy. He reached for the jar, pouring the very last drops of wine into his cup, and downed it in one swift gulp.
As the empty cup hit the table, a deep shift occurred in the air. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and regained his composure. The raw, bleeding vulnerability vanished, replaced by the hardened steel of a veteran shinobi.
Those cruel words that had just caused a violent storm in his heart could no longer affect his judgment.
"Sorry, Jia. I once said I would always believe in you, no matter what. But in the end... I've broken my word."
Stopping a completely fallen comrade from continuing down a path of slaughter was also his sacred duty.
He slammed his palm flat against the table.
"Let me end all this!"
Jiraiya stood up, his massive frame casting a dark shadow over the table. His body radiated a freezing, oppressive fighting spirit. After five grueling years of refinement at Mount Myōboku, his strength had improved by terrifying leaps and bounds. Even before he formed a single hand seal, Jia could already feel the majestic, suffocating weight of his Chakra pressing down on the room.
Jia instantly kicked her chair back, leaping backward to perch lightly on the open windowsill.
If Jiraiya genuinely wanted to kill her right now, she had to run, and she had to run fast. She absolutely could not afford to die at Jiraiya's hands.
However, this restaurant was truly a major, high-end establishment. The staff here had clearly seen much of the world. Seeing two terrifying Ninjas flaring their chakra and preparing to clash, the waiter's first reaction wasn't to scream or hide under a table. Instead, he bravely rushed right in front of the towering Jiraiya and shoved a small wooden tray into his chest.
"Sir, you haven't paid the bill yet."
Jiraiya instinctively took the bill. His fierce, dramatic expression instantly froze, shattering the oppressive tension into a million pieces.
He stared at the numbers, his eyes bulging out of his skull. "Are those few dishes seriously that expensive?! I don't have enough money!"
Jia, who had been fully tensed and ready to launch herself out the window, almost lost her footing and tumbled backward into the street upon hearing his panicked screech.
Good, she thought, fighting back a smirk. This is very Jiraiya.
She unhooked her heavy coin purse from her waist and tossed it through the air, letting it land with a heavy clink on the dining table. In the very next second, her body blurred, slipping away into the evening breeze with a flawless Body Flicker technique.
If she weren't so afraid of exposing her true alias to the world, she would have used the Wind Instantaneous Technique to clear the town in a fraction of a second.
After rapidly circling the town's rooftops a few times, dropping false trails and deliberately scuffing tiles to mislead any pursuers, Jia finally vaulted over the outer wall and slipped into the dense surrounding forest.
Once she was absolutely sure Jiraiya hadn't caught up to her, she relaxed her shoulders, humming a light, cheerful tune as she strolled through the moonlit woods.
After walking for a few minutes, her humming abruptly stopped. Her lips twitched violently.
Standing perfectly balanced on a thick tree branch directly in her path was Jiraiya.
He stood with his thick arms crossed over his chest, his sharp, predatory gaze already locked dead onto her position.
When the hell did this guy's speed become so fast?
As if perfectly reading the deep confusion flashing across her face, Jiraiya kindly decided to clarify the situation.
"I placed tracking Toads in every alley surrounding the restaurant before we even went inside., this city is currently under Konoha's direct jurisdiction, which means there are many active members of the Security Force patrolling the streets."
He looked down at her, his white hair swaying in the night wind. "You didn't use a Transformation Technique when you ran, so they recognized your face at a single glance. They coordinated their patrol routes with me to send rapid messages. No matter which way you tried to twist and turn through those alleys, they could tell me exactly where you were going."
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