"Who knows? Maybe this is just genius."
The conversation had drifted toward Saigoji Youmu once again.
But his origins, his past, and his true purpose—
All remained beyond their control.
The war had ended.
Now, only the aftermath remained.
Tsunade, Orochimaru, and Jiraiya left the final clean-up to the Ino–Shika–Chō clan, entrusting them with Konoha's victory.
Meanwhile, the three Sannin parted from the main army, choosing instead to wander the Land of Rain—
Together with Saigoji Youmu and Konan.
Several days later—
Deep within the Land of Rain, inside a remote cave, four figures sat on stone chairs, their silhouettes dimly lit by flickering candlelight.
Tsunade.
Jiraiya.
Saigoji Youmu.
Konan.
At the cave's entrance, Orochimaru stood alone, gazing at the endless torrent of rain.
A silence stretched between them, until—
"Youmu, are you really unwilling to join Konoha?"
Tsunade's voice was hesitant.
But she asked anyway.
She had to.
Saigoji Youmu had already proven himself beyond doubt—a warrior who had bested Hanzo, saved countless shinobi, and turned the tides of war.
Konoha needed someone like him.
But his answer came swiftly.
"I already said—I won't join any ninja village."
His voice was firm.
"Besides, it doesn't matter to you whether I join Konoha or not."
Tsunade frowned slightly.
"You're Konan's master. If you ever need help… I won't refuse."
A pause.
Unlike before, this time—he left a small opening.
A possibility.
Tsunade sighed.
"Fine."
She turned toward Jiraiya instead.
"What about you? What are you planning to do now?"
"Are you going to travel again?"
Jiraiya leaned back, resting his head against the stone wall.
"Yeah."
His tone was light, carefree.
"I'll travel, write a book—just like always."
Tsunade's expression darkened.
"You idiot. Why can't you just stay in Konoha like a normal person?"
Jiraiya merely smiled.
"I have a feeling…"
His voice turned uncharacteristically serious.
"The Child of Destiny is about to appear."
Tsunade's brow furrowed.
"The one from the Great Toad Sage's prophecy?"
Jiraiya had spoken of it before—
A child who would bring either salvation or destruction to the world.
At that moment—
Saigoji Youmu chuckled.
"Heh."
A strange, knowing smirk played at the edges of his lips.
His eyes—sharp, watchful—glanced inside the cave.
"Unfortunately…"
His voice was cryptic.
"It's not him."
A sudden noise—
A shift in the shadows.
Orochimaru straightened, his golden eyes narrowing.
Then, he raised a finger to his lips.
"Hush."
Instantly, Jiraiya and Tsunade fell silent, their senses sharpening.
They could feel it now—
A presence.
"It's a child," Jiraiya murmured, gaze fixed on a nearby stone pillar.
Orochimaru's voice was cold.
"Don't underestimate him. Even a rat from Rain Shinobi Village is still a rat."
Tsunade's voice rang out, cutting through the dim atmosphere.
"Come out. We know you're there."
Silence.
Then—
Soft footsteps.
A shadow stirred.
Slowly, hesitantly, a small head poked out from behind the stone pillar.
A boy, no older than ten, stepped into the dim light.
His hair—a messy shade of orange.
His clothes—ragged and torn.
His face—thin, but determined.
Tsunade hesitated.
"Who…?"
The boy took a deep breath.
Then, he stretched out his hand.
"Please… give us some food."
Jiraiya studied the boy carefully.
"Where are your parents?"
The boy's expression darkened.
His voice was quiet—but firm.
"Killed by ninjas during the war."
A heavy silence filled the cave.
Behind those words—behind that voice—
Was something unmistakable.
Hatred.
Hatred for ninjas.
Hatred for war.
Hatred for this world.
Jiraiya reached into his bag, pulling out a small ration.
"Here."
A piece of dry bread.
The boy didn't move.
Instead, he turned his head—glancing back into the shadows.
"Nagato. Come out."
A rustle.
Another child emerged.
This one was different.
His hair—deep red.
His clothes—just as tattered.
His eyes—wary, yet filled with something deeper.
Hunger. Desperation. Pain.
And then—
Whoosh.
In an instant, the red-haired boy snatched the bread from Jiraiya's hand.
And then—
Another swift movement—
And Tsunade's bread was gone too.
A tense silence.
Tsunade's eye twitched.
Her hand hovered over her kunai pouch—then stilled.
They were just kids.
War orphans.
Victims of the cycle they themselves were part of.
She let out a slow breath.
And said nothing.
The rain continued to fall outside.
Inside the cave, five shinobi sat face to face with two orphans.
A brief moment.
A small encounter.
But one that would change the course of history.