Chapter 7: Jiraiya's Determination

Mount Myōboku

The Burden of a Prophecy

Jiraiya stood before Gamabunta, his expression filled with determination. The weight of the prophecy pressed heavily on his shoulders, but he had long since accepted that his path was never meant to be easy.

"Then, I'll find the Child of Prophecy."

His voice was firm, unwavering.

Gamabunta remained silent for a moment, his massive eyes reflecting both wisdom and concern. He had known Jiraiya for decades—seen him grow from a foolish boy into a man burdened by responsibility.

"Did you see any features of this child this time, Gamabunta-sama?" Jiraiya asked, his hands tightening into fists.

He had spent years searching, training potential candidates, believing that Minato was the one who would lead the world to peace. But Minato was gone now. And the world still teetered on the brink.

Gamabunta let out a slow breath. "No… I did not see their face. But one thing is certain—"

Jiraiya listened intently.

"These events will unfold within the next twenty years."

Jiraiya stilled.

Twenty years.

That was both a blessing and a curse. It meant he had time to prepare, time to search. But it also meant that something even greater than the Third Great Ninja War was on the horizon.

His mind raced.

Had the Child of Prophecy already been born?

Would they be an ally?

Or… would they be the source of the destruction Gamabunta feared?

Jiraiya took a deep breath, calming his thoughts. This wasn't the time for hesitation.

"Okay, then I'll leave."

Gamabunta watched him carefully, seeing the same unbreakable spirit that had made Jiraiya one of the greatest shinobi of his time.

Jiraiya grinned, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Fukasaku, Shima—thanks for the hospitality."

"Be careful, Jiraiya-chan," Fukasaku warned, his voice filled with genuine worry.

"You better not get yourself killed before you find this child," Shima added, a rare softness in her tone.

Jiraiya chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Hey, have some faith in me, will ya?"

With the same gestures he was summoned with, Jiraiya vanished, leaving behind the legendary land of toads—

And stepping back into the world, where his greatest mission had just begun.

The air was thick with tension. Despite Jiraiya's bold resolve, the weight of the prophecy still hung heavily over Mount Myōboku.

Gamabunta's gaze lingered where Jiraiya had once stood. His old friend had left, carrying with him the burden of an uncertain future.

Yet, deep down…

Gamabunta felt uneasy.

Fukasaku, his face unusually pale, stepped forward.

"Gamabunta-sama… are you saying that our people are truly destined to die?"

His voice trembled—not out of fear, but out of desperation.

Gamabunta closed his tired eyes.

"That is what I saw."

His voice, usually strong and commanding, now carried the weight of inevitable sorrow.

Fukasaku swallowed hard.

"Is there nothing we can do?"

Shima, who had been standing in stunned silence, finally spoke up, her voice almost a whisper.

"There must be a way to change it."

Gamabunta's massive hands clenched into fists.

"I do not know."

The words echoed, bouncing off the ancient stone walls.

The Great Toad Sage—the one who had seen the rise and fall of nations, who had lived since the time of the Sage of Six Paths—was admitting defeat.

It was terrifying.

Fukasaku's throat tightened.

"Then… what are we supposed to do?"

Gamabunta opened his eyes.

They were sharp.

They were resolute.

"We prepare."

His voice rumbled like a storm on the horizon.

Fukasaku and Shima straightened, their own resolve hardening in response.

"If our fate is to be destroyed, then we will fight against it with everything we have."

His massive frame shook with determination.

"Jiraiya will find the Child of Prophecy."

His eyes darkened.

"But we cannot leave our survival in the hands of one man alone."

Fukasaku nodded.

"Then we must train. We must prepare for war."

Shima clenched her hands together, forcing away her fear.

"We will not go quietly."

Gamabunta let out a deep breath.

"No. We will not."

For the first time since the vision, a spark of defiance flickered in his ancient eyes.

Mount Myōboku would not kneel to fate.

They would fight for their future—no matter what.

(A/N: These guys don't even understand the way of world as if they make the rules. What you to the world it will return back to you. So, choose the options carefully, or else you're just going be pulled into darkness)

Konoha.

Jiraiya's steps were heavy as he made his way through the familiar streets of Konoha. The village that had once been his home, where his friends, his comrades, and his family had shaped the man he was today. Yet now, it felt different. Hollow.

He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his silver hair. "She already left without waiting for me..." His voice was barely a whisper, almost as if speaking the words aloud made them hurt a little less. "It aches a lot..."

Jiraiya had always been a man of grand gestures and larger-than-life ambitions, but when it came to the things that truly mattered—those tender, fragile moments with the people he loved—he struggled.

His heart ached for the warmth of Tsunade's presence. He hadn't seen her in so long, and the time they had spent together felt like a distant memory. Her strength, her fire, her hurt—he knew it all too well. But now, all he could feel was the distance between them.

"Tsunade..." He muttered her name, the one person he could never truly leave behind. The one person who had once shared the weight of their burdens, before pain and time drove a wedge between them.

With a final glance at the empty streets, Jiraiya made up his mind. "She would either be at the Memorial Ground... or Kushina's house."

The Memorial Ground was the first stop. A place where the names of the fallen were etched in stone—heroes and villagers, comrades and children who gave their lives for the village..

Memorial ground.

When Jiraiya arrived, he looked around, half-expecting to see Tsunade's unmistakable figure—her strong, confident stance that seemed to radiate the strength of Konoha itself. But she wasn't there.

"She's not even here..." he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. The cemetery, usually a place of reverence, now felt cold and distant. Time, it seemed, had moved on while he was away—too fast, too unforgiving.

The wind howled softly over the memorial stone, carrying with it the whispers of the fallen. Jiraiya stood before the monument, his usual carefree demeanor absent. His head bowed, fists clenched at his sides.

"Sorry, Minato."

His voice was quiet, but the weight behind it was immeasurable.

"As your teacher… I failed you. I wasn't there when you needed me the most."

The regret was like a blade twisting in his chest. Minato had been more than just a student—he was his greatest pride. A boy who had once looked up to him with admiration, who had become the Fourth Hokage, a husband, a father—a hero.

And yet, Jiraiya had not been there to stand beside him in his final moments.

He exhaled shakily, closing his eyes.

"You always believed in me, huh?" He let out a dry chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "Thought I was some great man destined to do something important. But look at me now, Minato."

He reached out, brushing his fingers against the cold stone.

"I couldn't even protect you."

Silence answered him.

Jiraiya let out a breath, forcing himself to stand straighter. He couldn't afford to break—not yet.

"But I swear to you..."

His voice hardened with resolve.

"I'll protect Naruto. I'll find the Child of Prophecy, just like we always talked about. I won't let your sacrifice be for nothing."

The wind picked up, rustling the trees around him as if the world itself had heard his promise.

With one final bow, Jiraiya turned away from the memorial.

There was no time for self-pity.

Minato was gone. But his legacy lived on.

And Jiraiya would make sure it shone brighter than ever.