Pain's assault only climbed, each thrust of a black receiver faster than the last, until even Jiraiya's guard began to fray.
Jiraiya-sensei, you have grown old.
His voice was flat, eyes like winter iron as the rods stabbed for the kill with every motion.
Is that so.
Jiraiya's answering smile was cold. The longer they traded hands, the more wrong the rhythm felt. Pain had crossed fists with Vincent again and again, yet showed no hint of flagging. It was as if an endless well of chakra fed him from somewhere out of sight.
Jiraiya had no such luxury. Sage Mode let him draw in natural energy, but one slip in the middle of a close fight was death. He could not sit and balance, and his chakra was dropping fast enough to feel.
Little Jiraiya, how long can you hold out…
Shima and Fukasaku crouched on his shoulders, unable to wade into this kind of hand-to-hand.
Not long. If I am honest.
He kept his voice low. Both toads grew more solemn.
Fukasaku met Shima's eyes, then nodded once. Wife, that technique.
Shima understood at once, then visibly balked. At our age you want me singing those sappy lyrics. It will be the death of me.
Look at the time to be picky. Fukasaku's stare turned stern. And I am no younger than you. We do not have the leisure to hesitate. You know his state. If this drags on, I fear…
Fine.
Shima set her jaw, cleared her throat, and the two of them launched into a syrupy, perfectly in-sync love duet.
Ridiculous to hear, deadly in effect. This was genjutsu born on Mount Myoboku.
Their tempo flew. The cast was short. When they slid into the chorus, the spell fell.
Pain's eyes flickered. Dizziness tugged at him. He jammed chakra into his ears to block the sound.
Jiraiya's mouth twitched despite himself. Natural energy surged into his arms. His hands moved faster.
Thump.
He slipped his shoulder past a thrust and smashed a palm into Pain's right wrist. The impact rang dull as bone.
The receiver flew from Pain's fingers and clattered across the ground.
In that same beat, Jiraiya's strike pushed a sliver of chakra into Pain and blew the chakra plugs from his ears.
Shima and Fukasaku raised their voices. The alien syllables, incomprehensible as they were, poured into Pain's head. The illusion took root.
The rings in his eyes began to whirl. A telltale sign.
Jiraiya did not get careless. The man in front of him bore the Rinnegan.
Swamp of the Underworld.
He formed signs. Sage Mode made the jutsu bloom. A bubbling mire opened under Pain's feet and swallowed him to the waist, dragging him deeper with every breath.
With his enemy pinned, Jiraiya lifted a hand. Hold. I have questions.
Are you sure.
Fukasaku hesitated. Little Jiraiya, this is razor-thin.
No. But I need to hear it. There is someone beyond him, pulling the strings.
All right.
He signaled Shima, and the duet cut off.
Pain's rolling gaze steadied. When clarity returned, he found half his body locked in the sucking mud.
Such a potent illusion.
He looked up at Jiraiya. Yahiko, who stands behind you.
Kami. God.
The answer came without ornament.
God.
Jiraiya frowned. He had heard Pain use the title once already.
Then you are not the god you speak of.
Pain shook his head. I am a follower of God. One who can act as His representative.
A representative of God.
Jiraiya's confusion deepened. At least it was proof that someone else was there. But Yahiko would not hand over the name.
Frustration burned hot. He had the sudden, stupid urge to pry the boy's skull open and read the truth inside.
Jiraiya-sensei, are you finished.
The question from the mire cut across his thoughts. Jiraiya blinked. He had not expected Yahiko to seize the pace.
If so, you can die now.
Killing intent surged. Pain's hands rose out of the muck. His lips moved.
Shinra Tensei.
Repulsion exploded out from the Deva Path. The swamp ruptured, a skin of earth and mud ripping loose and slamming toward Jiraiya like a tidal wall. The force hurled him through a half-collapsed facade and into a heap.
Forgot about that.
He dragged himself upright from mire and ruin, knuckles white with pain.
You two are too noisy.
Pain extended a hand.
Bansho Ten'in.
Jiraiya dug his heels into the ground, trying to resist the pull. It did not take him. Instead, Fukasaku tore free from his shoulder, yanked through the air.
Husband.
Fukasaku.
The cry and the warning landed together. The black rod punched clean through the sage toad's chest.
Blood dripped quick and bright from the tip.
I pierced his heart. He is dead.
Pain flicked his wrist. The small body arced away.
Now you cannot ply that irritating song.
Damn it.
Jiraiya lunged, grief lancing through him. If he had finished Pain earlier, if he had not hesitated for answers, then Fukasaku would not have…
Little Jiraiya, look out.
Shima's shout ripped at his ear. Pain's receiver was already driving for his ribs. Jiraiya snapped back to himself and crossed his forearms to block.
Meat and bone would not stop that metal.
The ground at their feet burst. A figure vaulted up out of the fissure, a slab of stone hoisted over one shoulder, eyes like ice.
Get away from him.
----------------------------------------------------
The deeper he goes, the more the truth unravels. Don't wait read ahead and witness Vincent's rise before the world catches up!
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