The first day of the Two-Kage Summit ended without much progress, largely because Konoha's side was distracted.
Both parties understood perfectly well: negotiations were never something you won by rushing. It was a slow tug-of-war—testing patience, probing bottom lines, flashing strength again and again—until a result emerged that both sides could grudgingly accept. The more anxious you were, the less you got.
Kirigakure had Kaguya Ren's overwhelming force as a guarantee, so they could afford to bare their fangs when naming conditions. But Konoha, being stronger overall, wasn't about to accept demands the way a powerless minor nation would.
It was easy to predict that they would spend several more days trading drafts and amendments before anything resembling a final peace treaty could be produced.
But none of that mattered to Jiraiya right now.
At this moment, he was alone in a nearby town's izakaya, drinking in silence—one gulp after another, one cup after another—like he could drown the day's bitterness and force it out of his body by sheer volume.
"Welcome. What would you like to drink?"
"One bottle of sake."
"Certainly. Where would you like to sit?"
"Over there."
"Ah… sir, there's already someone seated there—"
"I'm here for him."
The soft swish of fabric. Someone sat down across from him.
Jiraiya looked up—and the white-haired middle-aged man's expression immediately darkened. Across from him sat a black-haired youth with a handsome face and a confident air that felt almost offensive in its brightness.
"Kaguya Ren," Jiraiya said flatly. "Don't think that just because Konoha and Kirigakure are talking peace, you can pull underhanded tricks to mess with my head."
"The era where Konoha and the Mist see each other and immediately want to kill each other is over—for now," Kaguya Ren replied, pouring himself a cup and taking a casual sip. His tone was almost light, like any ordinary young man enjoying a drink. "Don't crank your hostility to the ceiling the moment you open your mouth, Jiraiya."
He set the cup down.
"I just have something I want to ask you. You—the one entrusted with a prophecy by the Great Toad Sage of Mount Myoboku."
"And what if I was?" Jiraiya let out a bitter laugh, eyes heavy as he lowered his own cup. "I'm just a toad stuck in a dry well, struggling like hell and still unable to climb out to see the wider world. I can't answer questions from someone standing at the edge of the well like you."
"You're really going to degrade yourself that seriously," Kaguya Ren said, gaze sharpening. "Is that how badly you don't want to see Nagato end up on my side?"
Jiraiya turned his face away. He poured out the last of the sake in the bottle, his expression hollow.
"Akatsuki showing up in the Land of Iron to take that contract as summit security… that was your doing, wasn't it?"
"I gave them an opportunity to accelerate their name recognition," Kaguya Ren said. "The choice to take it was theirs."
He finished his cup, then shoved the bland-tasting bottle aside with it before speaking again, unhurried.
"Disciples grow up, and they choose their path based on what they've lived through. If you keep wanting them to stay exactly the way they existed in your memories… that doesn't make you a good teacher, Jiraiya."
"You think I can't see what you're doing?" Jiraiya snarled. His hand tightened—his cup crumbled into shards. "You dragged them here to act as guards and witnesses so that Nagato and his Rinnegan would be noticed by the other three villages. So they'd be forced to divert attention to Akatsuki, instead of putting everything into figuring out how to beat you—and Kirigakure. Right?"
Kaguya Ren tapped the tabletop lightly with one finger, watching Jiraiya like he was reading a page.
"Have you considered that Nagato and Yahiko are cooperating with me while fully aware I'm using them?"
Jiraiya froze.
"Jiraiya," Kaguya Ren continued, voice calm but merciless, "self-deception at this stage is pointless. Nagato and Yahiko founded Akatsuki with their own will. They gathered like-minded companions from nothing, step by step. Do you really believe people who built this much from scratch are naïve enough to think my 'gift' comes without a price?"
"…They aren't," Jiraiya said, each word squeezed out.
"Then the picture is simple."
Kaguya Ren dipped his finger in a bit of spilled sake and began drawing on the tabletop—lines, circles, arrows.
"I'm using Akatsuki and Nagato's power to buy time for Kirigakure's reforms to take root. And Akatsuki and Nagato are using my position as the future Mizukage to trade for a faster climb onto a larger stage."
He looked up.
"If everyone's goal is to keep the shinobi world as peaceful as possible for the next decade or so, then what's wrong with exchanging resources?"
"I'm not like those people who declare the task of changing the world belongs to the Child of Prophecy, then wander off and never check what that 'child' is actually doing. I'm generous to useful partners."
"You two never once considered that Akatsuki might not survive the arrows in the dark?" Jiraiya slammed the table—not enough to shatter it, but enough to rattle every cup. His white hair bristled like an angry lion's mane. "Most of Akatsuki are ordinary shinobi! If the hawks of the other three villages fix their eyes on them, the casualties will be horrific!"
His gaze burned.
"Nagato isn't a monster like you. Even a genius can't intimidate everyone."
"No," Kaguya Ren said, raising one finger and slowly shaking it. "You're wrong."
His purple slit-pupils felt colder than the sake.
"If there's anyone in this era who could cultivate power capable of threatening me… the only candidate is Nagato. The one who has the Rinnegan."
"You don't understand the Rinnegan's potential," Kaguya Ren went on, voice steady. "You don't understand how crucial Uzumaki vitality is for drawing out that power. And you don't understand what kind of world Nagato sees through those eyes."
He leaned back slightly, as if speaking about weather.
"The world you see is the great nations licking their wounds and preparing the next war without shame. The world Nagato sees is a world that has tasted pain, understood pain, accepted pain—and is learning how precious peace is."
"Everyone has bled. Everyone has lost something. Every country wants peace. For Akatsuki, if they seize this moment—if they delay the flames of war even a little—then the seeds of peace gain more time to sprout."
"And their idea of achieving peace through something other than violence can take deeper root."
Kaguya Ren's tone didn't rise, but his words pressed down like weight.
"For them, this is the best time to speak their ideals to the entire world—to influence every nation. If they miss it, they'll be forced to bury their heads and cultivate their little plot of land, step by step, until the next Shinobi War ends… and only then can they expand again."
"I don't think Akatsuki's members want their organization to grow fat because the world collapses into war again."
Jiraiya stared at him for a long time, stunned, then finally spat out, half bitter and half resigned:
"Orochimaru… you… why are all the people with snake-like slit pupils so damn good at manipulating hearts? I almost believe you."
"Without the ability to see into people," Kaguya Ren said with an unapologetic shrug, "I wouldn't be planning to use other people's ideals to accomplish my own goals."
"And besides—this only works because you always run away. You tell yourself that as long as you find the Child of Prophecy, you can hand them the burden and wash your hands clean. You don't even know what they've lived through, what they dream of, what they're clinging to."
He smiled—thin, sharp.
"That's why it's so easy for me to find the crack and tear it open, Jiraiya."
Jiraiya's face flushed red, and he used the alcohol as an excuse to mask it. He cleared his throat and forced his voice steady.
"Then what do you want to ask me—or rather, what do you want to ask the Great Toad Sage?"
Kaguya Ren folded his hands beneath his chin, gaze calm.
"The White Snake Sage told me she saw a possibility in me—one that could turn the fixed future and destiny into chaos."
His eyes didn't waver.
"I want to know whether the Great Toad Sage's 'future' has already changed because of my activity… or whether my activity itself is part of the prophecy."
"…That," Jiraiya muttered, scratching his head, "is not something I can answer."
He hesitated, then exhaled.
"But if the Great Toad Sage dreams again and calls me back… I'll find a chance to ask—"
Poof.
Before he could finish the sentence, Jiraiya vanished into a cloud of white smoke—without warning, without hand seals, without even time to blink.
Kaguya Ren narrowed his eyes.
"Reverse Summoning… Mount Myoboku's."
He felt it immediately.
Something about this… was off.
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