System in Assassin's Creed

Chapter 349: Chapter 348: The Spymaster’s Return and the Drums of War

Konoha - Hokage Tower - The Office

”Oh, Jiraiya...”

Tsunade let out a long, long-suffering sigh that seemed to carry the weight of her entire administration. She set her coffee mug down onto the glass surface of the coffee table with a sharp clink, rising from the plush leather sofa with the reluctant energy of a woman whose brief moment of peace had just been unceremoniously shattered.

She marched across the expansive office, her heels clicking aggressively against the polished floorboards, and unlatched the heavy brass locks of the arched window. With a forceful shove, she pushed the glass panes outward, inviting a sudden gust of crisp autumn air to sweep into the room, scattering a few loose documents across her desk.

Slipping through the narrow opening with a fluid, silent grace that completely belied his considerable size, Jiraiya landed soundlessly on the woven rug. He straightened up, a wide, utterly unapologetic grin already stretching across his weathered, lined face.

”Do you have some sort of chronic, incurable allergy to normal doors, you idiot?” Tsunade complained, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as she glared at her former teammate. ”You are one of the legendary Sannin, not a stray cat. Use the front entrance like a civilized human being.”

”Ah, but where is the romance in that, Hime?” Jiraiya chuckled, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his red haori. He adjusted his horned headband with a theatrical flourish, striking a dramatic, albeit incredibly lazy, pose. ”I am the Toad Sage! The preeminent spymaster of the Hidden Leaf! If I simply walked through the front doors and signed the guest registry, I’d be ruining my deeply cultivated aura of mystery. My entrance must always be as elusive as my intelligence gathering.”

Tsunade rolled her eyes so hard it physically hurt, though the faint, exasperated twitch of her lips betrayed her relief at seeing him back in one piece. She closed the window behind him, locking out the noise of the village below.

”Just sit down before I throw you right back out of that window,” she muttered, turning back toward the center of the room.

Jiraiya laughed a hearty, booming sound, following her toward the casual seating area. He took the empty armchair adjacent to the sofas, his sharp eyes sweeping over the room. He noted the three identical shadow clones of Tsunade diligently churning through a mountainous backlog of paperwork at the main desk, before his gaze settled on the two occupants lounging on the couches.

He looked at Tsunade, who was currently rubbing her temples to ward off a fresh headache, and then turned his attention to Alaric. The towering blonde anomaly sat with one leg casually crossed over his knee, a delicate porcelain teacup balanced in one hand and a thick, aromatic cigar smoldering in the other, looking for all the world like a king holding court in a foreign palace.

”So,” Jiraiya began, settling deep into the cushions and resting his hands on his knees. ”How have you both been holding up? The village feels different... the air is tighter, but the people seem surprisingly energized.”

Tsunade picked her coffee back up, taking a long, reviving sip before answering. ”I have been stressed beyond the absolute limits of human endurance for the past week, Jiraiya,” she admitted, her voice carrying the rough edge of exhaustion, though a vibrant spark of pride danced in her amber eyes. ”But... it is good now. We weathered the political storm. The rot has been excised, and the foundation is secure.”

Jiraiya nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of her words, before shifting his gaze to the man in the crimson coat. ”And you, Alaric? Keeping yourself busy?”

Alaric took a smooth drag from his cigar, blowing a perfect ring of grey smoke toward the ceiling. He offered the Sannin a lazy, unbothered grin.

”I’ve just been chillin’ here and there,” Alaric replied effortlessly, his tone casual. ”Doing a little pest control. A little financial consulting. You know how it is.”

Jiraiya raised a thick white brow at the profoundly understated answer. He knew Alaric well enough by now to understand that ”chillin’” usually translated to rewriting the geopolitical landscape of a continent or dismantling an ancient conspiracy before breakfast. But he didn’t press the issue; he simply nodded his head in silent acknowledgment.

Then, the jovial, perverted facade melted away entirely.

The warmth in Jiraiya’s dark eyes vanished, replaced instantly by the cold, calculating gravity of a veteran commander who had survived three global conflicts. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked directly at Tsunade.

”Then let us get to the main reason why I rushed back here,” Jiraiya said, his voice dropping into a low, deadly serious register that commanded the absolute attention of the room. ”Tsunade... war? Really?”

The single word hung in the air, heavy and loaded with the bloody ghosts of the past.

Tsunade lowered her mug. She looked at Jiraiya’s hardened face, then glanced at Alaric... who was merely watching the exchange with quiet, profound amusement... before turning her gaze back to her old teammate. She didn’t shrink under his scrutiny. She offered a nonchalant, unyielding shrug.

”It is not Konoha’s fault that Iwagakure decided to play god with the civilian economy,” Tsunade countered, her voice hardening with the uncompromising authority of the Hokage. ”They actively colluded with a corrupt noble to cause a catastrophic financial fallout in the Fire Capital, a move that nearly cost us our entire annual funding and threatened to starve the western provinces into submission.”

She set her coffee down, her eyes flashing with a dangerous, protective fire. ”Ninjas might use underhanded, bloody ways to win their battles, Jiraiya. Deception is our trade. But attacking the civilian infrastructure to choke a hidden village’s treasury? That was too underhanded. It crossed a line that cannot be ignored without inviting further aggression.”

Jiraiya shook his head, a deep, weary sigh escaping his lips. ”I am not defending Ōnoki’s actions, Hime. The Fence-Sitter has always been a treacherous old bastard. But despite his provocations, you shouldn’t have rushed so far and so publicly that it would instigate an outright continental war. You backed Iwa into a corner on the world stage, and a cornered boar will always charge.”

Tsunade furrowed her brows, glaring lightly at her oldest friend. She leaned forward, matching his intensity.

”As I said, Jiraiya,” she replied, her tone sharp and precise. ”Iwa started everything. If we allow a foreign military power to dictate our economy through shadow embargoes and treasonous merchants without severe, immediate retaliation, we cease to be a Great Nation. We become a victim waiting to be bled dry.”

Jiraiya held her glare for a long moment, recognizing the absolute, iron-clad resolve of the Senju bloodline burning within her. He knew she was right in principle, even if the execution terrified him.

He let out a long, heavy breath, dragging a calloused hand down his face.

”Fine,” Jiraiya relented, shifting back into the mindset of a strategist. ”What is done is done. If the die is cast, I need to know the exact, classified details of what actually happened in the capital, and then we can plan what to do for the coming war.”

He began to tick points off on his fingers, his mind racing through the necessary logistical nightmare of mobilization. ”We might have to convene a full shinobi council meeting immediately. The major clan heads must be briefed and requested to participate in drafting the battalion structures. And we absolutely must secure Shikaku Nara to act as the Chief Strategist. If war is truly inevitable, we cannot afford to fight it without his mind guiding the front lines.”

Tsunade nodded her head, her expression softening marginally as she appreciated his immediate shift into supportive action.

”I have already sent out the summons,” Tsunade informed him, gesturing toward the clones still working tirelessly at the desk. ”Letters have been dispatched to every active Jonin commander and clan head. In a week’s time, our forward operating camps will be fully set up and fortified along the western borders.”

She paused, a shadow of genuine sorrow crossing her features. ”But I despise the fact that minor villages and territories heavily populated with civilians will inevitably be caught in the crossfire. It is the tragedy of our geography. So, Konoha will prioritize evacuating the civilian populations from the projected warzones beforehand, and we will be responsible for providing them with emergency rations until the conflict is resolved.”

Alaric, who had been silently listening to the grim arithmetic of warfare, nodded his head in absolute agreement.

”I second that,” Alaric chimed in, taking a sip of his tea. ”Civilians shouldn’t be dragged into the bloody messes created by shinobi politics. They just want to farm their land and raise their kids.”

He set his teacup down, his blue eyes gleaming with the quiet, terrifying confidence of a man who possessed unlimited resources.

”I will personally do something about the granaries of Konoha,” Alaric offered, his tone casual but carrying the weight of a sovereign decree. ”I’ll ensure they are stocked to overflowing. It will make it infinitely easier for your logistics divisions to provide high-quality rations to the evacuated civilians, and most importantly, it will ensure that the shinobi marching to the front lines are fighting on full stomachs. A well-fed army is an unbreakable army.”

Tsunade shot him a look of profound, silent gratitude. She knew that when Alaric promised supplies, he didn’t mean a few extra carts of rice; he meant an avalanche of logistical perfection that would render the concept of starvation obsolete.

Jiraiya, however, did not share their momentary relief. He stared at the floorboards, a dark, heavy gloom settling over his broad shoulders. He let out another, deeper sigh.

”While the provisions are appreciated, Alaric... this is a truly, horribly bad time for a war,” Jiraiya murmured, his voice sounding older than his years. ”Because the Akatsuki has finally made their move.”

Alaric raised a single, platinum brow, recognizing the shift in the narrative. He leaned back into the sofa, gesturing with his cigar. ”Oh? I know they’ve been busy... but go ahead, Jiraiya. Continue.”

Jiraiya shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the memories of his recent reconnaissance mission clearly haunting him.

”During my intelligence gathering near the borders of the Rain Country,” Jiraiya explained, his voice tight, ”I discovered that the Akatsuki has recently recruited a new member to fill their depleted ranks. A serpentine-like creature... likely one of Orochimaru’s twisted experiments, though I couldn’t confirm the identity.”

He paused, his hands clenching into tight fists on his knees.

”But that wasn’t the worst of it,” Jiraiya continued, looking up, his dark eyes hollow with an ancient, unresolved grief. ”I saw him, Tsunade. I saw an old student of mine. I saw Yahiko.”

Tsunade’s breath hitched. She remembered the three orphans from the Rain Village, the children Jiraiya had stayed behind to train during the Second Great War.

”Although I wasn’t able to get close enough to engage without compromising my cover,” Jiraiya said, his voice trembling slightly, ”I knew it was him. But... the truly terrifying, inexplicable thing was that his eyes had changed.”

Jiraiya looked directly at Alaric, seeking an explanation for the impossible. ”My student... he possessed the legendary Rinnegan. I couldn’t be mistaken. The concentric, ripple-like rings... it was exactly like the eyes the Elder Gamamaru of the Toad summons described to me in the prophecies.”

Alaric listened in silence, his expression unreadable behind the veil of cigar smoke, as Jiraiya laid out the tactical implications. ’Serpentine-like creature... Kabuto? Did he already master his Snake Sage Mode?’

”Iwagakure is notoriously known for their underhanded, ruthless strategies,” Jiraiya deduced, connecting the geopolitical dots. ”Ōnoki is a pragmatist. If he is facing the full military might of Konoha, he might swallow his pride and employ the Akatsuki as a mercenary force to fight for them, or to create devastating havoc behind our lines while our main forces are deployed at the borders.”

Alaric nodded slowly. It was a flawless tactical assessment. He remembered the anime lore perfectly; Iwagakure had a long, bloody history of employing the Akatsuki to do their dirty work when conventional warfare proved too costly. And with Kakuzu and Sasori dead, and the organization’s financial arteries severed, the Akatsuki was desperate for funds. A lucrative war contract from the Tsuchikage was exactly the kind of lifeline they would accept.

”Your logic is sound, Jiraiya,” Alaric agreed, his voice dropping into a cold, clinical register. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his electric-blue eyes locking onto the two Sannin.

”While Iwagakure poses as the immediate, conventional enemy for Konoha in this coming war,” Alaric stated, dismantling their threat board, ”they are merely an annoyance. The true, existential threat is the Akatsuki. Specifically, because of their leader... a man who calls himself ’Pein’.”

Tsunade frowned, the name unfamiliar. ”Pein?”

”Yes,” Alaric confirmed grimly. ”And I am telling you this so you do not underestimate the sheer scale of the danger. Pein possesses the Rinnegan, and with it, he commands a power that defies comprehension. He has the ability to destroy a huge chunk of a major hidden village like Konoha in a single, localized jutsu. He doesn’t need an army to level this city; he just needs to float above it.”

Tsunade and Jiraiya’s eyes widened in absolute, paralyzing shock.

The concept of a single individual... aside from Alaric himself... possessing the raw, destructive capability to instantly obliterate a military superpower was a strategic nightmare.

”A single jutsu...?” Tsunade whispered, her blood running cold as she imagined the cratered ruin of her home.

Jiraiya swallowed hard, his mind racing. ”Alaric... do you know any more information regarding this leader? His abilities? His weaknesses? His true identity?”

Alaric looked at Jiraiya. He saw the desperate, protective fire in the older man’s eyes, warring with the lingering hope that his former student had somehow survived the darkness of the Rain Village.

Alaric paused for a long, heavy moment. He took a slow drag from his cigar, the silence in the office stretching thin and fragile.

”I do know,” Alaric finally said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, carrying a deep, empathetic pity. He looked directly into Jiraiya’s eyes. ”But... it would profoundly hurt you if you knew the truth, Jiraiya.”

Jiraiya furrowed his thick brows, a surge of defensive confusion crossing his features before his eyes widened drastically. The pieces of the puzzle... the Rinnegan, the location in the Rain Village, the leadership of a rogue organization... violently snapped together in his brilliant, seasoned mind.

He slumped back into his chair, all the fight draining out of him as the horrifying realization settled over his soul.

”So...” Jiraiya murmured silently, his voice breaking as a crushing sorrow eclipsed the coming war. ”...it’s Yahiko.”

Alaric looked at the broken man, shaking his head slowly, preparing to deliver the final, most devastating blow to the Sannin’s heart.

”It was Yahiko,” Alaric corrected softly, the words carrying the finality of a gravestone. ”But something terrible happened to him. He’s not the boy you trained anymore, Jiraiya. He’s just a corpse being puppeteered by the eyes of a god.”

.

Consider buying me a coffee!

patreon.com/kulark

I’m uploading dozens of Chapters ahead there!