Chapter 80: Jiraiya’s Return

Jiraiya of the Sannin walked through Konoha’s main gates expecting silence.

He expected to find a village paralyzed by mourning. He expected the stench of smoke, the quiet weeping of families in the streets, and a traumatized populace waiting for the Hokage to give them a reason to keep moving forward.

He found grief.

The air was thick with the dust of construction and the loud, rhythmic striking of hammers. Wagons heavily loaded with stone and timber rolled past him, their wooden wheels clattering against the cobblestones. Tents had been erected in the commercial district, serving hot food to displaced families. Medical supply carts were being rapidly unloaded near the triage centers.

And stamped clearly on the side of almost every crate, wagon, and food tent was the red and white fan of the Uchiha clan. Or, more specifically, the corporate seal of Ren Uchiha.

Jiraiya watched a team of contractors hoist a massive wooden beam into place on a ruined storefront.

The village was not waiting for the Will of Fire to save it. It was relying on commercial contracts.

It deeply unsettled him.

Walking through the busy market district, Jiraiya pulled his hood low, listening. He wanted to gauge the village’s morale, to hear what they were saying about the Third Hokage and the aftermath of the Nine-Tails attack.

"The Uchiha food shipments kept the western shelters running all night," a baker told a customer, handing over a loaf of bread.

"I heard the eastern lumber yard got hit by bandits yesterday," another merchant said, shaking his head. "But the Uchiha kid already had a backup shipment rolling in at dawn. My shop’s roof was fixed before the rain came. I don’t care if he’s an Uchiha. His people actually delivered."

Jiraiya frowned. There was no blind worship in their voices, no god-like reverence for the Uchiha tycoon. It was entirely practical. The civilians didn’t care about clan politics or village power struggles. They cared about surviving, and right now, Ren Uchiha was the one signing the checks that kept them alive.

Jiraiya adjusted his pack and headed straight for the Hokage Tower.

Hiruzen Sarutobi looked like he had not slept since Minato died.

The Third Hokage sat behind his desk, surrounded by literal mountains of casualty reports, infrastructure assessments, and budget deficits. The heavy, suffocating weight of leadership had aged him ten years in two weeks.

Jiraiya didn’t bother with formalities. He stepped into the office, his jaw set.

"Where is Naruto?" Jiraiya demanded.

Hiruzen slowly set his pipe down, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. "With his mother."

Jiraiya froze. The breath caught in his throat.

"Kushina..." Jiraiya started, his voice cracking slightly. "Kushina survived?"

"She did," Hiruzen confirmed, his tone heavy. "Naruto is the jinchūriki. But Kushina survived the extraction and the sealing. She retains full custody of her son."

"Where are they?" Jiraiya asked, stepping closer to the desk. "An ANBU safehouse? The Sarutobi compound?"

"They are currently residing at Ren Uchiha’s estate," Hiruzen said flatly.

Jiraiya’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. "You let a jinchūriki live under an Uchiha roof?"

"I did not let anything happen, Jiraiya," Hiruzen corrected sharply, his Hokage authority bleeding through the exhaustion. "Kushina is his mother. It was her choice."

"She’s grieving and traumatized! She doesn’t know what she’s doing!" Jiraiya argued, slamming a hand on the desk. "The Uchiha are suspects in the attack, and You let one of them take Minato’s son out from under village protection?"

"The administration cannot touch them," Hiruzen said, rubbing his temples. "Ren’s lawyers have buried the administration in Daimyo-backed custody exemptions. The estate is heavily warded and guarded by elite mercenaries. It is safer than most of our own ANBU black sites."

"He’s holding them hostage," Jiraiya hissed.

"No," Hiruzen replied quietly. "He is protecting them. If the elders try to seize the boy, Ren would expose it as military overreach, and every civilian contract keeping this village moving would become a political weapon overnight."

Jiraiya stepped back, a cold knot forming in his stomach. Ren had not taken control of Konoha. That was the problem. He had made himself necessary.

Jiraiya needed another opinion. He went straight to the hospital.

The trauma ward was organized chaos. He found Tsunade in her office, signing off on a stack of surgical clearances. She looked exhausted, her medical coat slightly wrinkled, but she was functioning with a sharp, driven intensity.

"Jiraiya," she noted, not looking up from her paperwork. "You’re late."

"I came as fast as I could," Jiraiya said, looking around the bustling corridor outside her open door. "How are you keeping this place running? The casualties... the sheer volume of supplies needed..."

Tsunade replied flatly, signing her name on the final form. "Ren’s supplies. Ren’s food contracts. Ren’s coagulants. Ren’s reconstruction money. Pick a shelf."

Jiraiya scowled, stepping fully into her office and closing the door behind him. "Hiruzen is letting him run the village. He has Kushina. He has Naruto. Tsunade, can we trust him?"

Tsunade capped her pen.

"No," she said simply.

She leaned back in her chair, her amber eyes distant for a fraction of a second. She thought about the black scroll locked securely in her office safe. She thought about Ren’s clouded, ruined right eye. And she thought about the cracked mahogany desk she had already ordered replaced before sunrise.

"But dangerous is not the same as useless," Tsunade added, her tone entirely professional. "He is keeping my patients alive. Right now, that is all I care about."

Jiraiya found Ren Uchiha outside a commercial reconstruction site near the eastern sector.

Ren was standing in front of a half-built warehouse, holding a clipboard and looking deeply annoyed. A sweaty civilian contractor was stammering apologies in front of him.

"If you attempt to bill me for untreated pine while labeling it as load-bearing oak again," Ren said smoothly, his voice devoid of warmth, "I will not just fire you. I will buy your company, liquidate your assets, and make sure your grandchildren are born with bad credit. Do we understand each other?"

The contractor bowed frantically and ran off toward the supply wagons.

Ren handed the clipboard to a nearby clerk and turned around, his dark eyes landing directly on the Sannin.

"Jiraiya of the Sannin," Ren greeted, his boardroom smile sliding effortlessly into place. "I’d offer a welcome-home discount, but you look like the type who pays late."

Jiraiya did not laugh. He walked forward, his presence heavy and intimidating.

"You’re moving fast, kid," Jiraiya said, his eyes narrowing. "Buying loyalty. Swallowing up supply lines while the village is mourning. And isolating Minato’s family behind Uchiha security."

Ren handed his pen to the clerk and dismissed him with a wave.

"I am stabilizing an economy," Ren replied calmly.

"You’re profiting off a tragedy," Jiraiya countered, his voice rising, drawing a few nervous looks from the nearby workers. "You’ve made the Hokage dependent on your bank accounts, and you’ve surrounded a traumatized widow and a jinchūriki newborn with your own private army."

The polite, corporate smile vanished from Ren’s face.

The shift was instant, leaving behind something utterly cold and terrifyingly sharp.

"I paid for the coagulants that stopped Kushina Uzumaki from bleeding to death," Ren said quietly.

Jiraiya stiffened.

"I paid to keep the shelters fed while your elders argued in sealed rooms. I wrapped Naruto in contracts because he was minutes away from becoming government property, buried under seals and paperwork by men who call newborns strategic assets."

Ren stepped closer.

"I was here, Jiraiya. Where were you?"

Jiraiya’s jaw locked. For once, Jiraiya’s mouth found nothing useful.

"Doing research?" Ren asked, his voice dripping with absolute contempt. "Drinking? Chasing prophecies? Writing field notes in brothels?"

Jiraiya had no clean answer. The shame burned hot in the back of his throat. He had failed Minato. He had failed Kushina. And this arrogant, ruthless Uchiha businessman had stepped into the void he left behind.

Jiraiya couldn’t win the moral argument. So he fell back on a warning.

"You think money makes you untouchable?" Jiraiya asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"No," Ren replied, turning back toward the construction site. "Money makes touching me expensive."

Jiraiya watched him walk away.

"I’ll be watching the boy," Jiraiya called out to his back.

Ren didn’t stop walking. He simply looked over his shoulder, his profile sharp against the afternoon sun.

"Naruto has a mother," Ren said coldly. "Ask her."

Jiraiya turned down a side street and vanished in a swirl of leaves, the heavy weight of his failures dragging him down.

A moment later, the shadow of a nearby supply crate stretched, and Kakuzu stepped out into the open. He held a small, black notebook in one hand, his green eyes tracking the spot where the Sannin had disappeared.

Kakuzu walked over to where Ren was standing.

"Should I add him to the hostile asset list?" Kakuzu asked.

"No," Ren said, adjusting the cuffs of his suit.

Kakuzu raised an eyebrow beneath his hood. "Why?"

"Because guilt is cheaper than bribery," Ren replied, looking at the newly installed load-bearing oak beams of the warehouse. "He won’t move against us. He hates himself too much right now. But prepare a file anyway. Sannin are expensive problems."

Kakuzu opened the black notebook, clicking his pen.

"Dictate," Kakuzu said.

"High risk," Ren listed smoothly. "Low liquidity. Emotionally unstable."

Kakuzu scribbled the notes down, snapping the book shut with a quiet thud.

"Standard shinobi profile, then," Kakuzu muttered.

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