Naruto: End of the Shinobi World

Would he?

Go to Kumogakure?

Those hot-tempered Cloud-nin—how would they treat a top shinobi from another village who swaggered into their territory without permission?

It would likely escalate straight into a diplomatic crisis—or even a localized war.

And Iwagakure?

Ōnoki, that crafty old fox, would probably suspect some earth-shattering conspiracy from Konoha at the very first moment. He would smile on the surface while secretly mobilizing the entire village, preparing either to detain Jiraiya or eliminate him outright.

So no—Jiraiya wouldn’t do it.

He would never enter Kumogakure or Iwagakure that way.

Because he understood what it meant. He understood the rules—and the unspoken rules—between the Great Nations. He understood the consequences such an action would trigger.

But then why… in the Land of Rain… was it ”acceptable”?

Because deep down he believed the Land of Rain was weak?

Because he trusted in his overwhelming strength and believed Amegakure couldn’t do anything to him?

Or because…

Buried in his heart, there truly existed a kind of arrogance—one he himself had never noticed—the arrogance of a shinobi from a Great Nation toward a smaller one?

The gazes of the Ame-nin shifted. Their vigilance gained a layer of understanding—and a deeper hostility.

Standing in the rain, Jiraiya’s tall frame felt stiff for the first time.

Kurowa’s hate-filled stare, his sharp, youthful accusation—it was like a mirror suddenly thrust before him, exposing contradictions and uncomfortable truths in his own actions that he had long ignored.

Jiraiya opened his mouth, only to find that any explanation at this moment would sound pale and hypocritical.

For the first time, he began to understand the suffocating resentment in Nagato and Konan’s hearts—and in the hearts of the shinobi who followed them.

The rain fell harder.

Jiraiya’s silence was more damaging than any rebuttal or defense.

That silence was like a soundless slap across the faces of the people of the Land of Rain.

The fury in Kurowa’s eyes nearly burst forth. He turned abruptly, facing the civilians and shinobi gathered along the street—those standing beneath eaves, those peeking from doorways, those numb, those humiliated, those equally resentful.

”So—I’ve never believed in this so-called ’mutual understanding’ between people! That’s just pretty talk the Great Nations feed us after they’ve eaten their fill!”

”Look at how we’re living now! Isn’t it a little better than before? Don’t we at least no longer fear dying every day at the hands of rogue ninja or starving on the roadside?!”

Some in the crowd nodded unconsciously. Many more wore complicated expressions—bitterness, but also a fragile gratitude for what little stability they had regained.

”Why is that?!” Kurowa’s voice rose sharply, nearly a roar, overpowering the steady rainfall. ”Is it because of Konoha’s charity? Because of some Great Nation’s mercy?!”

”Or is it because rogue ninja and bandits suddenly decided to ’understand’ us?”

”No!” he answered himself decisively, each word like a nail hammered into the rain and into every heart present.

”It’s because of God! Because of Lady Angel!”

At the mention of those titles, the surrounding expressions grew solemn.

”It was them—using unmatched power—who drove out the rogue ninja and bandits that ravaged our land and slaughtered us like livestock!”

”It was them who provided money and food, allowing those of us who nearly died out to survive—to slowly rebuild the homes that had been blown to pieces!”

Kurowa’s chest heaved violently as his gaze swept across face after face.

”This—this is real! Something we can see and touch! Something that lets us live! Something that puts food in our children’s mouths!”

He spun back toward Jiraiya.

But now his eyes were no longer fixed on the individual shinobi before him. It was as if he were looking through Jiraiya—at the enormous power he represented, and at all those lofty forces that spoke of peace and understanding while never truly treating the Land of Rain as an equal.

”Mutual understanding? Trust? That’s bullshit!”

”If not for God—if not for Lady Angel!”

His voice suddenly carried a near-hysterical resolve. He jabbed a finger at the muddy ground beneath his feet, then swept it violently at the surroundings.

”The Land of Rain would have become a paradise for rogue ninja and beasts all over again!”

”This place would once more turn into a living hell!”

”Worse than before!”

”Because we wouldn’t even have the last shred of resistance or hope left!”

”This is our reality! This is the truth we small nations learned with blood and tears!”

His roar echoed through the damp, cold air. Even the rain seemed to falter for a heartbeat.

Silence fell over the street, broken only by the downpour.

Every person of the Land of Rain—shinobi and civilian alike—remained silent. But their eyes, their posture, silently affirmed Kurowa’s words.

Jiraiya stood unmoving as rainwater dripped from his hair and the tip of his nose.

His tall, sturdy body now seemed to bear a crushing weight.

”You’re going too far…” he finally forced out.

”Too far?” A gaunt civilian shoved his way out of the crowd. His voice was hoarse, trembling with agitation. ”We just don’t want to die anymore! We don’t want to live like animals! That’s ’too far’?!”

”Kurowa’s right,” said another Ame-nin, slightly older, his gaze dark. ”Mutual understanding? Then why doesn’t Konoha try understanding us?”

”You people of Konoha are far too arrogant!”

”And back then, it was you who turned our Land of Rain into a battlefield! It was your ninjutsu that destroyed our farmland and our homes!”

”You talk about understanding—but when have you ever tried to understand our pain?”

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