Published at 3rd of November 2024 9:30 am

Chapter 169 The Shadows of the Third: A Hokage's Legacy, 2: Into the Shadows

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Jiraiya moved swiftly through the dense forest on the borders of the Land of Fire, his senses heightened, every instinct on edge. He’d left Konoha only a day ago, but the foreboding aura in the air weighed heavily on him. The villagers he’d questioned on the way had shared rumors of mysterious figures seen in the night and unsettling sounds in the woods. This wasn’t just another rogue group of shinobi—it was something more calculated, more deliberate.

As night fell, Jiraiya paused to rest in a secluded grove. The forest was eerily silent, the usual nighttime chirps and rustles absent. He could feel the pressure of unseen eyes watching him from the shadows, though he saw nothing. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and began to mold chakra, expanding his senses across the forest to detect any hidden presence.

In the silence, he felt a faint disturbance—a flicker of chakra, distant but unmistakable. It pulsed briefly before vanishing as though whoever it belonged to had realized they’d been detected. Jiraiya’s eyes snapped open, his face tense. Whoever it was, they were skilled at masking their presence, but he’d caught enough to know their location. Without hesitation, he set off in pursuit.

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Half an hour later, Jiraiya crouched behind the trunk of a large tree, observing a small clearing below. In the dim moonlight, he could make out several figures clad in dark cloaks, their faces obscured by masks. They spoke in low tones, their voices blending into the murmur of the night, and from their demeanor, Jiraiya could tell they were discussing something of importance.

He strained to listen, catching fragments of their conversation.

"…village is unprepared…"

"…move at dawn…"

"…the old fool won’t see it coming."

Jiraiya clenched his fists, anger bubbling within him at the mention of the Hokage. It was clear that these people had ill intentions toward Konoha. Whoever they were, they seemed well-informed and dangerously confident. But what disturbed him most was their organization. These were not rogue shinobi acting independently—they were part of something larger, something with a plan.

Just as he was preparing to approach and gather more information, one of the masked figures glanced in his direction, and Jiraiya’s heart skipped a beat. The figure’s eyes, even in the dark, were chilling—a pale, unnatural shade that gleamed like a predator’s. He knew he’d been spotted.

Before he could react, the cloaked figure raised a hand, and a volley of kunai flew toward him, slicing through the air with deadly precision. Jiraiya leapt back, evading the attack, but it was clear that stealth was no longer an option. He prepared himself for a fight, his mind already strategizing.

The masked figures, six in total, surrounded him in a tight circle. Their movements were precise, coordinated, as if they’d trained for this exact scenario. Jiraiya’s eyes narrowed; these weren’t mere criminals—they were skilled shinobi, possibly even part of an organized group or clan. His pulse quickened as he readied himself, drawing upon his vast chakra reserves.

"Well, well," he said, his voice casual despite the tension. "Didn’t realize I’d stumbled into a party. I’m Jiraiya, one of the Legendary Sannin. It’s only polite to introduce yourselves before you try to kill me."

One of the figures chuckled darkly, stepping forward. "Legendary or not, you’re alone, Jiraiya of the Leaf. And we don’t intend to let you leave this forest alive."

Jiraiya grinned, though his mind was racing. "We’ll see about that."

With a swift series of hand seals, he unleashed a torrent of flame toward his attackers, the blaze illuminating the clearing in a fierce glow. The figures scattered, but Jiraiya had already anticipated their movements. He jumped into the air, summoning a massive toad, Gamaken, who landed with a thunderous crash, sending a shockwave that threw several enemies off balance.

"Gamaken!" Jiraiya shouted. "Let’s make this quick."

Gamaken grumbled, drawing his shield and spear. "I’m not much for subtlety, Jiraiya. Let’s get it over with."

The masked shinobi regrouped, clearly unsettled by the sudden appearance of the giant toad, but they didn’t retreat. Instead, two of them stepped forward, their hands flashing in a synchronized pattern of seals. In an instant, a wall of black flames shot toward Jiraiya and Gamaken, cutting through the air like a scorching blade.

"Amaterasu?" Jiraiya thought in shock. "No… it’s similar, but different."

He quickly maneuvered around the flames, guiding Gamaken to block with his massive shield. But even as they defended, Jiraiya noticed something alarming: the flames seemed to be fueled by the chakra of the masked shinobi, feeding off their life force to grow stronger.

"They’re sacrificing their own chakra to create these attacks," he realized, a cold chill running through him. Whoever these enemies were, they were willing to give up everything to achieve their goals.

With a swift counterattack, Jiraiya weaved through the flames, closing the distance to one of the shinobi. In a heartbeat, he launched his Rasengan, the spiraling chakra sphere tearing through his opponent’s defenses. The masked shinobi cried out, collapsing to the ground.

The remaining shinobi did not flinch, even as one of their own fell. They pressed on, launching a series of coordinated attacks, pushing Jiraiya and Gamaken to the limit. For every blow he landed, they countered with an unnerving precision, as if they had trained specifically to fight shinobi like him.

In the chaos of battle, Jiraiya felt a sharp pain sear across his shoulder as one of the attackers landed a strike, their kunai cutting deep. He stumbled back, gritting his teeth, and Gamaken moved in front of him protectively, blocking further attacks.

"These guys aren’t normal shinobi," Jiraiya muttered, clutching his bleeding shoulder. "They’re fanatics."

One of the masked figures stepped forward, speaking in a low, almost reverent tone. "You cannot stop what is already set in motion, Jiraiya of the Leaf. Konoha will fall, and the era of the Hokage will end."

Jiraiya’s eyes narrowed. "Who are you people? Who’s behind this?"

The figure only laughed, their voice echoing hauntingly through the forest. "You’ll know soon enough, if you live to tell the tale."

Before Jiraiya could respond, the figure threw down a small vial that shattered on impact, releasing a thick, blinding smoke. The remaining shinobi disappeared into the darkness, leaving Jiraiya and Gamaken alone in the clearing.

As the smoke cleared, Jiraiya stood in silence, his mind racing. The words of the masked shinobi echoed in his head. This wasn’t just a small band of rogue shinobi—this was something larger, something that threatened the very heart of Konoha.

With a heavy sigh, Jiraiya dispelled Gamaken and leaned against a tree, catching his breath. He would need to report this to the Hokage immediately. Whatever threat loomed over the village, it was not to be taken lightly.

His resolve steeled, he began the journey back to Konoha, the weight of his discovery pressing heavily on his shoulders. The Third Hokage needed to know what they were up against—and soon, or it might be too late for them all.

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