Naruto: Starting as the Third Hokage with Tears in His Eyes

Chapter 507 Worlds Apart

Meanwhile, Jiraiya was trying to break through the encirclement of his three disciples.

The results were minimal.

"Alright, alright, let go—Yahiko! You're choking me! My left cheekbone isn't healed yet!"

Instead of loosening his grip, Yahiko tightened his arms around Jiraiya's neck, clinging to him like a frightened koala, his feet almost off the ground.

"Teacher, you're going to Iwagakure, right? Take us with you! All three of us—"

"right!"

Xiao Nan's voice interrupted from the side, clear and firm.

This girl, who usually speaks so softly that you have to strain your ears to hear her, raised her voice for once.

She stood to Jiraiya's left, gripping his sleeves tightly with both hands.

The paper flower on the right side trembled gently in the night breeze.

Nagato remained silent.

He stood just half a step behind Konan, quietly raising his head, his black eyes hidden beneath his red hair staring unblinkingly at Jiraiya's face.

There was no sound. There was no movement.

Just watching.

That quiet, heavy gaze was ten times heavier than Yahiko's arm and Konan's hand combined.

Jiraiya felt a chill run down his spine.

—This kid is really putting pressure on people with his eyes!

He pried Yahiko's arm off and, taking advantage of the moment when the orange-haired boy let out a cry of relief, sprang back a large step, creating a safe distance.

Hands on hips.

White hairs flew up in the night wind and then fell down in disarray.

He forced a dignified, superior expression onto his still swollen face.

The effect was reduced by at least 70% by the bluish-purple patch on his left cheekbone.

"You three—listen up!"

Yahiko instinctively straightened his back.

Xiao Nan loosened her hands from her sleeves and clasped her fingers together in front of her chest.

Nagato's gaze finally shifted half an inch—only half an inch.

Jiraiya took a deep breath.

"rest."

He held up one finger.

"Have a meal."

The second one.

"sleep."

The third one.

Three fingers were waved in the air, the tone leaving no room for argument.

"What's going on here—"

He gave himself a thumbs-up, "Your great and handsome teacher is enough."

"But—" Yahiko opened his mouth.

"No buts."

I accepted the smile.

The deliberately slick look on Jiraiya's face vanished completely in that instant.

The remaining expression was unfamiliar—it was a calm and resolute seriousness that only adults possess.

Jiraiya raised his right hand and placed it on Yahiko's head.

The force wasn't strong, but the palm was quite large.

The warmth seeped through his short orange hair and onto his scalp.

"You've done it."

His voice wasn't loud, but every word pierced the night wind clearly.

"That old fox Hanzo, you guys were the ones who managed to defeat him. As for that hurdle, let alone you guys—even if your teacher had gone in his teens, I might not have been able to do as well as you."

Yahiko's lips moved slightly.

My Adam's apple bobbed in my neck; something felt stuck there, unable to go up or down.

"The rest..."

Jiraiya released his grip, his fingertips passing through the boy's hair, bringing down a small piece of withered leaf that had somehow gotten stuck there.

"Don't compete with the old men for work."

He turned and walked in the direction where Tsunade and Orochimaru were.

Her back was very tall. Her long white hair reached her waist, swaying with each step.

I took two steps.

Stopped.

There was no turning back.

"When I get back—I'll treat you to Ichiraku Ramen."

His tone suddenly shifted back to that carefree, nonchalant tone that his disciples were most familiar with.

"Yahiko had three bowls. Nagato had four bowls."

One meal.

"Xiao Nan, two bowls."

Three bowls, two bowls.

The three different numbers precisely correspond to the three disciples' distinctly different appetites and personalities.

That kind of familiar, unthinking understanding can only be expressed by someone who has truly spent time with you.

Yahiko's eyes immediately reddened.

But he swallowed the heat back, tilted his head back, cupped his hands to his mouth, and shouted at the receding white figure—

"Teacher! I want four bowls!!"

Jiraiya's steps never stopped.

He simply raised his right hand and waved it casually behind him.

"Okay, okay~"

The sound was drawn out by the wind, with a hint of laughter at the end.

Xiao Nan watched the white figure walk away step by step, the night spreading up from his feet, first swallowing his straw sandals, then his clothes.

Her right hand unconsciously rose, and her fingertips touched the paper flower tucked behind her right ear.

That flower was the first piece she learned to fold.

I folded and unfolded, unfolded and folded countless times, before I finally folded a shape that satisfied me.

Later, she taught the method to Jiraiya-sensei—but his hands were too big and his fingers too thick, so the flowers he folded were always crooked and twisted, like a bun that had been blown flat by the wind.

But she kept every single one.

Nagato stood beside her.

He quietly shifted his gaze from Jiraiya's back to Yahiko.

The orange-haired boy still had his hands clasped around his mouth, his chest heaving violently from the shout.