bdsm-fiction Chapter 456 Jiraiya and Naruto
Chapter 456 Jiraiya and Naruto
Chapter 456 Jiraiya and Naruto
As dusk fell, the setting sun sank heavily into the western mountain ridges, dyeing the clouds on the horizon a shocking dark red, as if the bloodstains from the daytime battle had been spilled on the sky and had not yet dried.
The air was still filled with a faint smell of burnt smoke and blood. Even far from the most severely damaged areas, the desolation and sorrow of the post-war battle still lingered.
Downstream of the Nanga River, near a secluded riverbank not far from the village.
Jiraiya's tall figure walked ahead, his steps steady.
Throughout the journey, Naruto kept his head down and walked with a somewhat slow pace, a stark contrast to the energetic and seemingly tireless boy he usually was.
His orange tracksuit was covered in dust and ash, and his face and arms had several minor scratches and gunpowder marks that had not been cleaned. His usually bright and clear blue eyes were now dull and lifeless, covered with a thick layer of confusion. He mechanically followed behind Jiraiya's tall figure.
Along the way, Jiraiya spoke several times, trying to comfort Naruto.
He brought up some amusing anecdotes from the past, some absurd experiences of the three legendary Sannin in their youth, and even made some veiled remarks about companions and choices.
But Naruto mostly listened in silence, occasionally humming in agreement or briefly replying, "I know, perverted sage," his voice muffled and listless.
After passing through the last sparse grove of trees, a clearing suddenly appeared before us, surrounded by tall trees and somewhat desolate.
This appears to be a training ground that has been abandoned for many years.
In the open space in the center of the field, waist-high weeds swayed helplessly in the wind, presenting a desolate scene of withered yellow and dark green intertwined.
Several incomplete wooden human-shaped targets were stuck haphazardly in the grass, their surfaces covered with traces of wind and rain erosion and deep chisel marks left by kunai and shuriken.
Further away, on the trunks of several particularly thick trees, one can still vaguely see a few crooked targets, with vines winding their way up the trunks.
The afterglow of the setting sun gilded this desolate place with a warm golden edge, but it also added to the sense of loneliness and the passing of time.
Naruto stopped and looked around blankly.
The air was filled with the fresh scent of grass and earth.
He sniffed, looking at Jiraiya walking ahead with a puzzled expression: "Perverted Sage, where is this—?"
Jiraiya had already walked to the center of the field, where there was a small, relatively flat piece of land.
He turned around, hands on his hips, his long white hair fluttering slightly in the wind, a smile on his face.
The smile lacked its usual cynicism, and instead held a rare gentleness and a touch of reminiscence.
"Here—" Jiraiya's voice softened, as if afraid of disturbing the tranquility of the place.
"It used to be your father's secret base."
"Many years ago, when your father was about your age, I often guided him in his cultivation here."
"Back then, he was just like you, a little brat who refused to admit defeat and always wanted to become stronger."
He paused, his gaze seemingly piercing through time, seeing the scene of that blond-haired, smiling boy tirelessly practicing shuriken throwing, sparring, and later, the astonishingly brilliant Flying Thunder God Technique in this open space.
"And your mother—" Jiraiya's smile softened slightly.
"Back then, she was a hot-tempered little girl with beautiful red hair."
"She would often sneak out of the village, carrying a homemade lunchbox, saying she was worried we'd starve, but actually she just wanted to watch the water gate training."
"Your father is always very happy, but because your mother is just starting to learn how to cook, the bento boxes always taste a little strange. Even so, your father will finish them all."
Jiraiya's voice was soft as he gently unfolded a long-forgotten story filled with sunshine, sweat, youth, and subtle emotions before Naruto.
That was a vivid picture of Naruto's parents, not cold names and achievements in a textbook.
Naruto's originally ashen and dull face suddenly lit up.
Those dull, deep blue eyes suddenly burst forth with excitement, longing, and a hint of timid inquiry.
He suddenly raised his head and looked straight at Jiraiya, his lips trembling slightly, as if a thousand words were stuck in his throat, but he couldn't form a complete sentence because they were too overwhelming.
"Good—perverted—my father—my mother—they—" Naruto opened his mouth, his voice dry, choked with helplessness.
He had so many questions he wanted to ask—about their appearance, their personalities, everything about them.
But in the end, all the doubts and longings turned into a deep affection and sorrow.
It turns out that he wasn't the monster the villagers were talking about. He had a father and a mother, and they had truly lived in this world, leaving their footprints and laughter on this land.
This warmed his heart, yet it also caused a sharp pang of pain because of their "death".
Jiraiya took in Naruto's rapidly changing emotions, feeling both gratified and bittersweet.
He reached out his large hand and gently ruffled Naruto's slightly prickly short golden hair.
The touch reminded him of Minato, the disciple who also had dazzling blond hair and whose gentle smile touched everyone.
"It's time to tell you the whole truth, Naruto." Jiraiya's smile faded, his expression becoming solemn and dignified. He looked into Naruto's deep blue eyes, which were just like his disciple's, and spoke each word clearly.
"Your father is the Fourth Hokage of Konoha, Minato Namikaze."
"He was known as the 'Yellow Flash,' a hero who saved the village and protected countless people."
"Your mother was Kushina Uzumaki from Uzushio Village. She was strong and brave, and she also gave her life to protect the village and to protect you."
Every word struck the softest and most longed-for place in Naruto's heart.
His father is ————Fourth Hokage———— Minato Namikaze————
That hero repeatedly mentioned and depicted as a legend in ninja academy textbooks; that "Yellow Flash" who mischievously climbed the Hokage Rock countless times, scribbling on its statues with paint, yet harboring a secret, inexplicable longing within his heart—
It really was my own father?!
And mother—
Uzumaki Kushina————
Upon learning the identities of his parents, Naruto was momentarily speechless. He could only stare wide-eyed, his chest heaving violently, tears welling up uncontrollably in his eyes, shimmering in the setting sun.
It was excitement, relief at finally learning the truth, and an overwhelming surge of longing and sorrow for parents he had never met, twelve years overdue.
Jiraiya seemed to be immersed in reminiscing about the past, his voice lowering slightly: "Your parents were true heroes. No matter what that bastard Orochimaru said, no matter how others speculate or slander, I absolutely do not believe that Minato and Kushina, those two children with the Will of Fire engraved in their bones, would betray the village and become enemies of Konoha."
"They love Konoha deeply, they love each other deeply, and they love you deeply too—"
His words were filled with absolute trust in his disciple's character.
Naruto lowered his head, looking at the mud-covered tips of his shoes, his voice hoarse and sorrowful: "That—Menma—"
Is he really—my brother?
"Why—why is he an Asura? Why did he do those things? You lecherous immortal, tell me, was he forced into it? Or—"
His voice grew louder and louder, filled with a fear that even he himself didn't want to think about deeply.
Seeing Naruto's agitated state, Jiraiya sighed even more deeply.
He paused for a moment, seemingly considering how to recount that past filled with unsolved mysteries.
The setting sun cast long shadows of the two people across the wasteland.
"About Menma—" Jiraiya began slowly.
"Naruto, your mother was indeed carrying twins when she was pregnant. This was top secret at the time, known only to the old man, me, the medical ninja who delivered the babies, and the Anbu."
"We had hoped that Minato and Kushina would have a pair of healthy children, giving Konoha a glimmer of hope for the future."
.
He paused, his eyes sharpening with pain: "But, on the night you were born, something happened."
"I still don't know the full story of what happened that night, but the loosening of the seal and the rampage of the Nine-Tails caused enormous damage to Konoha."
"Your father and mother did everything in their power to protect the village and finally resealed the Nine-Tails, but they themselves died in the Nine-Tails' final counterattack—"
Jiraiya's voice was somewhat hoarse; even after twelve years, he still felt a deep pain when he mentioned the tragedy of that night.
That was not only a disaster for the village, but also his darkest moment, as he lost his most prized disciple.
"After that turmoil," Jiraiya continued, his gaze falling on Naruto's face, whose fists were clenched tightly.
"We only found you when you were a baby."
"And your twin brother—we searched the entire surrounding area and used all our sensory means, but we couldn't find any trace of him."
"The situation was very chaotic at the time, and we could only assume that the child had most likely died."
"Therefore, in Konoha's records over the years, the Fourth Hokage and his wife only left you as their child."
"Another child—we've always thought he's no longer alive."
Did they keep assuming he was dead?
The history that Jiraiya recounted seemed to choke Naruto, leaving him frozen in place.
His azure pupils trembled slightly and contracted, reflecting the last trace of blood-red sunset on the horizon.
"But—but—" Naruto gasped for breath as if he were suffocating, then suddenly looked up, his eyes filled with incomprehension and unacceptable confusion and pain, his voice choked with sobs.
"Menma has always been by my side! Ever since I can remember—he's always been by my side! Always—always—with me—"
His voice was very soft, yet it seemed as if he had used all his strength.
Then, countless images and fragments flashed through his mind.
He remembered a gloomy afternoon when he was three years old.
Because the nanny arranged by his third-generation grandfather was filled with disgust and fear towards him, he finally mustered up the courage to fight for the right to live alone.
With his meager allowance, he wanted to go to the shops on the street to buy some basic necessities.
However, no matter which shop he entered, he was always greeted by the shopkeeper's terrified or disgusted eyes, his rough driving away, and whispers like "monster" and "get out."
He felt abandoned by the whole world, wandering aimlessly through the streets of Konoha, surrounded by the villagers' undisguised whispers and pointing fingers. Those malicious words were like needles, pricking his young heart again and again.
Just when he felt an unprecedented loneliness and malice and wanted to run home.
boom!
He bumped into someone and fell flat on his backside.
"Feed".
A clear, childlike voice rang out from above.
Naruto looked up somewhat timidly, against the light, and saw a boy about his age standing in front of him.
The boy was dressed in a clean and neat black tracksuit and was holding a cup of milk tea with a straw in his hand.
The glow of the setting sun cast a faint golden hue on his short black hair. His face was expressionless; he simply tilted his head slightly, looking at himself sitting on the ground.
"Didn't your mother tell you to apologize if you bump into someone?" The boy's voice was clear, and his dark pupils reflected his disheveled and frightened appearance at the time.
"I—" Young Naruto instinctively shrank his neck, a deep sense of inferiority welling up inside him. He lowered his head, his voice barely audible.
"I don't have a mother."
A brief silence.
Then he heard the boy say in the same tone, "Oh, what a coincidence, I don't have any either."
Naruto looked up again in surprise.
The boy took a sip of his milk tea, then held out his free hand to him: "In that case, treat me to ramen as an apology."
"?" Naruto was completely stunned.
"Hurry up, I'm hungry." The boy extended his hand forward again.
As if by some strange twist of fate, Naruto grabbed that hand.
That small, warm hand.
The boy pulled him up from the ground with a little effort.
Then, on that gloomy afternoon, the boy in black led a bewildered Naruto through the crowd that was still casting strange glances at him, and went straight into a small shop that exuded an enticing aroma: Ichiraku Ramen.
"Uncle, two bowls of miso chashu ramen, this guy's on the house!" the boy greeted familiarly, and even started bickering with the shop owner's daughter, Ayame.
Naruto sat down at the counter somewhat timidly.
The shop owner, Uncle Tetsu, was a kind-looking middle-aged man. When he saw Naruto, his eyes didn't show the fear or disgust that others did; he simply smiled gently and said, "Oh, Menma, you brought a new friend? Just a moment, it'll be ready soon!"
That was the first time in Naruto's memory that a shopkeeper didn't speak ill of him or kick him out.
The steaming hot ramen was served quickly, and its rich aroma dispelled the chill in my body and slightly calmed my anxiety.
The boy named Mianma sat next to him, quietly eating his noodles, and occasionally chatting with him.
From that day on, Naruto and Menma became friends.
For young Naruto, Menma was the first ray of warm light in his cold world, illuminating his entire childhood.
Menma doesn't look at him strangely, she shares snacks with him, and even introduces him to her new friend Hinata.
Menma and Hinata took care of him like older brothers and sisters. They would help him when he was bullied by other children, play ninja games with him at the secret base, and reluctantly accompany him to clean the Hokage Rock after he was scolded by Iruka-sensei for playing a prank.
They went to the ninja academy together, were in the same class, and always got together to play after school.
Later, when Naruto saw that he, Menma, and Hinata were all assigned to Team 7 after graduation, he jumped up excitedly, while Menma just gave a faint "Oh," seemingly unsurprised.
During my time in Team 7, there were troublesome beginner missions, Kakashi-sensei's bizarre tests, but also the trust of fighting side by side, the warmth of sharing chakra training techniques, and memories of helping each other home after training until we were exhausted.
Mianma is his best friend, and the most important bond he has in this world.
He even surpassed Iruka-sensei, the Perverted Sage, and Kakashi-sensei.
But now—
Jiraiya, however, told him that Menma, the person who had accompanied him throughout his childhood and adolescence, was his older brother from the same mother.
"I don't know why he chose to do this," Jiraiya said, his voice filled with deep confusion.
"I don't know what happened to him over the past twelve years that turned him into the monster he is today. But there's one thing that might make you feel a little better—"
He paused, then looked up at Naruto, whose eyes were filled with tears.
"He probably did know from the beginning that you were his younger brother. He chose to stay in Konoha, to get close to you, and to accompany you as you grew up—perhaps deep down, he still felt the affection of an older brother."
"He always knew—he always knew I was his brother—" Naruto unconsciously repeated the words, tears finally streaming down his face, which was covered in gunpowder and dust, gathering at his chin and dripping onto the withered grass at his feet, leaving dark stains.
If Menma knew from the beginning, why didn't he tell him?
Why approach him as a friend?
Was this companionship over the past twelve years truly out of blood ties, or was there an ulterior motive?
Jiraiya looked at Naruto, who was in tears and clearly caught in a huge emotional vortex, and his heart was filled with sorrow.
He reached out and patted Naruto on the shoulder to comfort him.
Naruto wiped away the tears on his face, and then suddenly remembered another dream that had troubled him for many years, a dream that was vague yet strangely familiar.
That was a dream he had every New Year.
In his dream, there was warm light, blurry male and female figures exuding a gentle aura, a black-haired boy with his back to him, his face obscured, and a girl sitting quietly beside him—
They invite Naruto to eat New Year's Eve dinner together and will accompany him in his dreams to spend the New Year.
Those dreams were always fleeting; upon waking, the details faded, leaving only a faint warmth and wistfulness.
Could it be that those were not just dreams?
Naruto slowly lowered his head and spread out his hands.
These hands, due to long-term practice of martial arts and shuriken, have developed thin calluses.
He once used these hands to high-five his pockmarked hands in celebration, they once put their arms around each other's shoulders, and they once shared food together.
"So, he always knew—always knew—" Naruto murmured unconsciously again, his voice so soft it was almost blown away by the wind.
Menma always knew the truth and held the initiative, while he was kept in the dark like a fool.
Why, why did Mianma do that?
Seeing Naruto's dejected state, Jiraiya felt anxious and was about to say something to try and pull him out of this negative mood.
However, at that moment...
A figure appeared silently on a branch of a large tree not far away.
The newcomer was wearing an animal mask and dressed in standard spies' attire.
"Lord Jiraiya!" He knelt on one knee on the tree branch, speaking respectfully but urgently to Jiraiya below: "The Advisory Council has sent an urgent message requesting your immediate return to the Hokage Building to attend an emergency meeting regarding the election of an acting Hokage! All serving Jonin have been notified; the meeting will begin in one hour!"
A proxy for Naruto?
Jiraiya's brows furrowed instantly, and his face darkened.
The old man's body had not yet been buried, the aftermath of the Sound Ninja attack was overwhelming, the threat of a powerful enemy was imminent, and the village was filled with unease.
At this point, are Koharu Utatane, Homura Mitokado, and Danzo so eager to start vying for the Hokage's power?
Danzo, in particular, was someone Jiraiya could easily guess was involved in. He was definitely behind it all.
An unnamed fire ignited in Jiraiya's heart, but more than that, it was a worry about the future of Konoha.
The struggle for power often depletes a village's vitality more than external enemies.
He glanced at Naruto, who was still immersed in grief and chaos and seemed completely unresponsive to the arrival of the Anbu, and sighed inwardly.
He was really worried about leaving Naruto here alone, but the election of the acting Hokage was of great importance, and he had to be there.
It wasn't about vying for power, but about preventing a dangerous figure like Danzo from coming to power, and about securing a relatively better future for Konoha.
After much deliberation, Jiraiya took a deep breath and walked up to Naruto: "Naruto, listen, there's an urgent matter in the village that I need to go back and deal with."
He crouched down, bringing his gaze level with Naruto's, and looked at the boy's red and swollen eyes: "This is where Minato used to train. You can stay here for a while and calm yourself down."
"But promise me, you must be home before dark and don't linger outside for too long, okay?"
He paused, then added, "Don't overthink it, Naruto. The truth may be complicated, but there's no doubt that your parents love you. As for Menma—"
"Give me some time, we'll figure everything out. Now, take care of yourself and don't do anything foolish."
Naruto seemed to have listened, but then again, he didn't.
He nodded mechanically, his gaze still unfocused.
Jiraiya sighed, ruffled the man's hair again, then straightened up and nodded to the ANBU in the tree: "Let's go."
As soon as they finished speaking, the two figures flashed and quickly disappeared into the dense forest, speeding towards the center of Konoha Village.
The abandoned training ground has returned to silence.
The only sounds were the rustling of the wind through the wild grass and leaves, and the murmuring of the Nanga River in the distance.
The sun sank a little further, and the sky darkened at a visible speed. The dark red on the horizon was gradually replaced by deep indigo and purple, and a few of the earlier stars were already eagerly twinkling in the sky.
Naruto remained standing in the same spot, like a statue.
After a long while, he seemed to be awakened by the cold wind, and slowly and stiffly moved his feet, wandering aimlessly through the knee-high weeds.
The withered yellow grass brushed against his trouser leg, making a rustling sound.
He unknowingly walked to a wooden target that was half-fallen on the ground.
The wooden figure was severely damaged; one arm was broken off and missing, and the torso was covered with scars of varying depths and ages, mostly small pits carved out by kunai and shuriken.
Naruto reached out, his fingertips gently, with an almost reverent touch, tracing the marks.
A cool evening breeze suddenly picked up, sweeping across the training ground, swirling up withered leaves and grass clippings, and ruffling Naruto's messy blond hair.
Amidst the wind, he seemed to hear the distant sound of weapons whistling through the air, a boy's clear shouts, and a woman's gentle laughter.
Is it a hallucination?
Or is it the memory that remains on this land?
Naruto's thoughts were in a jumble, like a ball of yarn that a cat had played with, with no beginning or end in sight.
The images of my parents are still blurry, but the words "hero," "sacrifice," and "love" weigh heavily on my heart.
Menma's figure was incredibly clear, from that afternoon when he was three years old, to dozing off at the same desk during ninja academy, to doing beginner missions together at graduation, and finally to that unfamiliar figure in the sky today, radiating golden light and resembling a god—
Several images overlapped and tore apart wildly in his mind.
Just as his mind was in turmoil, Naruto suddenly sensed something.
He turned his head sharply, his azure pupils fixed on the edge of the training field, towards a grove of trees with exceptionally dense shadows.
There, behind an ancient giant tree that required several people to encircle, a figure slowly emerged.
The newcomer stepped into the sparse moonlight at the edge of the training field.
He was dressed in a black stand-up collar shirt and black shorts, his short black hair fluttering slightly in the evening breeze, revealing a handsome yet profound young face.
His calves and arms were wrapped in white bandages, with dark red bloodstains showing through in some places.
It's Sasuke.
Uchiha Sasuke.
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