CHAPTER 62

Betting

When Jiraiya mentioned Nawaki's name, a rare flicker of emotion passed through Orochimaru's usually impassive expression.

Nawaki—Tsunade's younger brother, and Orochimaru's first and most cherished disciple. Though the boy's time was brief, his death had left an echo in Orochimaru's heart that never quite faded.

Jiraiya didn't notice the subtle shift in his comrade's demeanor and kept talking.

"Your knack for teaching hasn't dulled a bit. Word's already spread about the battle between your student, Chihiro, and Kuromine Tatsuji—the head of Yugakure. Sounds like the brat practically crippled the guy and only came out with a scratch."

Orochimaru's lips curled into a faint smile. "Chihiro thrives in combat. Pressure seems to unlock parts of him that training never could."

Jiraiya chuckled. "He's what—twelve? Thirteen? Same age as Minato, right? It's insane he's already trading blows with elite jōnin and living to tell the tale."

"That's the nature of war," Orochimaru replied flatly, arms folding. "Some wither under it. Others bloom."

Jiraiya leaned back, grin widening. "Well, my student isn't half bad either, y'know. How about this—we make a bet? Between your Chihiro and my Minato. Let's see who climbs higher before the war ends."

Orochimaru tilted his head, expression unreadable. "There's no point betting on a foregone conclusion. Your student is capable… but that's all."

Jiraiya frowned. "You're seriously underestimating Minato. The kid's a prodigy—every bit as talented as Chihiro. So? You in?"

Orochimaru stared at him, eyes cold and calculating. "Fine. What's your stake?"

Jiraiya flashed a mischievous grin. "I'm working on a new manuscript. If you win, you'll get the first read before it hits shelves."

"Hmph. Boring." Orochimaru turned and strode toward the tent's entrance.

Jiraiya called after him, "Hey, what about your stake?"

Without turning, Orochimaru answered, "I don't intend to lose."

Jiraiya sighed as he watched him disappear into the night. "Such a tsundere."

---

Even Jiraiya—war veteran, Sannin, prankster—felt the fatigue of the recent skirmish wearing him down. But rest would have to wait. The next wave of duties loomed like stormclouds over the camp.

When he returned to his tent, Jiraiya noticed that Minato's bedroll was empty. Again.

With a sigh, he muttered, "Kid's out brooding. Guess it's time for a sensei heart-to-heart."

He found Minato sitting alone on a hill just beyond the encampment, staring silently into the darkness.

"What's on your mind? Don't tell me you're shaken because Chihiro stole the spotlight."

Jiraiya sat down beside him.

Minato hesitated, then spoke with uncharacteristic heaviness. "Sensei… I'm starting to doubt myself. Not just my strength—but my decisions."

Jiraiya raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

Minato lowered his gaze. "Chihiro's brilliant—frighteningly so. In our last operation, he gave an explosive tag to an injured ally and ordered him to detonate it while grappling with a Cloud-nin. His logic was that it would turn a liability into an asset. 'Maximize battlefield returns,' he said."

Jiraiya's brow furrowed.

"I told him he was wrong. That comrades aren't tools. But… his response made me question if I was the one being naive."

Minato clenched his fists. "And the worst part? In the heat of battle, when Chihiro was surrounded… I hesitated. I remembered what he did, and for a second—I didn't want to help him. That moment of hesitation still haunts me."

Jiraiya sighed, gaze softening. "Minato… you're human. You care. That's not a weakness, it's your strength. Chihiro and you—you're opposites. He's razor-sharp, calculating, cold. You lead with heart. That doesn't make one of you right and the other wrong."

He paused.

"Orochimaru would've done the same thing Chihiro did. No hesitation. That's how he's wired. And Chihiro's clearly been shaped by that mindset. But you—Minato—you're not him. And thank god for that."

Minato still looked uncertain.

Jiraiya leaned in, voice more serious now. "Let me ask you something. Do you think I'm a genius?"

Minato blinked. "You're one of the Sannin. Of course you are."

Jiraiya laughed and shook his head. "Nope. I was the dead last in our squad. Always trailing behind Orochimaru. But I never accepted that I was less than him. That belief—that stubbornness—kept me going. And over time, I closed the gap."

He clapped Minato on the shoulder. "You don't need to be born a genius. You just need to believe you can surpass one. That's the secret."

Minato's eyes lit up with renewed determination. "You're right, Sensei. I understand now. I won't let this shake me. I'll work harder—no, I must work harder."

Jiraiya grinned. "Good. Because I already bet on you."

Minato blinked. "You what?"

"I bet Orochimaru that you'd become stronger than Chihiro by the end of this war."

Minato stared at him, stunned.

Jiraiya raised an eyebrow. "What? You doubting yourself again?"

Minato inhaled deeply and then stood tall. "Not at all. I'm going to win."

Jiraiya rose too, brushing the dirt off his pants. "Good. Now get some sleep. We've got reinforcements coming in from the village soon. I've already put in a request to have the Flying Thunder God Technique brought over."

Minato's eyes widened. "The Flying Thunder God…?"

Jiraiya smirked. "Yep. Time to build your legend."

As Jiraiya turned and disappeared into the darkness, Minato stood alone on the hilltop, the wind brushing past his hair like fate whispering in his ear.

He made a silent vow:

I will surpass Chihiro. I will prove I'm not just a kind heart—I'm a shinobi. And I won't let Sensei down.

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