Jiraiya had no rebuttal.
During the Second Great Ninja War, the Land of Rain had indeed been one of the main battlefields—and Konoha had entered the war of its own accord.
He had witnessed the devastation with his own eyes.
"You ask us to understand you—but as a small country, do we even dare not understand you?!"
"We don't! We've never dared!"
"When you want to fight, you fight. When you want to stop, you stop. Other than waiting to die, what else could we do?"
"And now… now that we've finally… finally gained Lord God and Lady Angel…"
"We just want to live… to have food to eat and a roof over our heads… What's wrong with that?!"
Soft sobs rippled through the crowd.
These civilians didn't understand complex geopolitics. What they remembered were the skies lit by fire, the slaughter of loved ones, displacement, hunger, and freezing nights—visions of hell.
What "Pain" and "Konan" had brought, however, was tangible: they had driven away most of the internal violence and chaos, and provided the most basic order and survival supplies.
To them, that was the difference between heaven and earth. That was hope.
"The Great Nations and the small nations have never been equal! Konoha and us—we're not equals either!"
"What 'mutual understanding'? That's a luxury built on equality!"
"As a small country, are we even qualified to speak of equality with you? We don't even have the right to refuse to 'understand' you!"
"Your 'understanding' often means orders—means a reality we have no choice but to accept!"
"So put away your pretty words, Lord Jiraiya."
The scar-faced captain finally spoke again, his voice cold.
"You have your position and your beliefs. The Land of Rain has its own way of surviving."
"What Lord God and Lady Angel have given us may not be the 'peace' you recognize—but for most of us, it is a reality that allows us to live."
"Please leave."
His movements were stiff but resolute.
"Or, if you insist on seeing Lord God, then go through proper and equal channels."
"Not by… barging into our home like this."
The last sentence was spoken softly—yet it carried immense weight.
Jiraiya stood there as gazes from all directions fell upon him—pain, anger, vigilance, numbness… but not even a trace of the empathy or understanding he had hoped for.
Kurowa's so-called "extremism," when placed beside the blood-soaked grievances of these ordinary citizens and the harsh reality of survival, no longer seemed extreme at all. It felt like a cruel truth.
A bone-deep sense of powerlessness washed over Jiraiya.
His grand ideals of understanding and trust were fragile beyond measure in the face of survival, in the face of historical blood debts and unequal power.
He opened his mouth—
But in the end, nothing came out.
Under the weight of countless eyes, he slowly turned and walked away.
Kurowa remained where he stood, fists clenched tight, his young chest heaving.
He knew he might have offended a powerful shinobi. He might even have caused trouble for the village.
But he did not regret it.
Some things had to be said. Some realities had to be seen.
At the top of Amegakure's central tower, a pair of Rinnegan and a pair of cool, steady eyes had long since taken in everything that transpired on the street below.
Konan asked softly, "Will you see him?"
"Not yet," Nagato replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "Let him… think a little longer."
And let me think as well.
The Hokage's Office
The air inside the Hokage's office was heavy enough to wring water from.
Jiraiya slumped back in a chair, looking as though all the bones had been pulled from his body.
Tsunade stood behind her desk, arms crossed. Her blonde ponytail trembled faintly with restrained fury.
Her chest rose and fell—not from anything else, but purely from anger.
She slammed her palm down onto the solid wooden desk with a thunderous bang, making the documents atop it jump.
"So you just slunk back like that?!" Her voice shot upward, thick with disbelief and rage. "You didn't even meet that red-haired brat or Konan—and you got scolded out of the village by a bunch of Rain shinobi and civilians?!"
Jiraiya twitched the corner of his mouth, as if trying to produce one of his usual easy grins to ease the tension.
He failed.
He simply nodded, the movement heavy.
"Jiraiya!" Tsunade leaned forward, both hands braced on the desk, her knuckles whitening. "You've completely disgraced Konoha!"
She was so angry she almost laughed.
She had secretly deployed personnel along the border as backup, worried this idiot might impulsively clash with Pain.
And what happened?
Nothing.
He came back perfectly intact—yet dragging with him a cloud of dejection and this expression as if his entire faith had collapsed.
It was infuriating just to look at.
Jiraiya licked his dry lips, his voice hoarse.
"Tsunade… do you think… we were wrong?"
The fire in Tsunade's eyes flickered, as though a bucket of cold water had been thrown over it.
She understood what he meant.
He wasn't referring to the recklessness of this mission.
He was asking whether they—Konoha, perhaps even all of the Great Nations—had been wrong from the very beginning in the way they treated smaller, weaker countries like the Land of Rain.
◇ BONUS & SUPPORT ◇
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 10 reviews — drop a comment!
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ Read 70 chapters ahead on P@treon → patreon.com/Sagamaster789