Are you sure this is the spot?
Vincent studied the tree in front of them. It looked no different from any other in the forest.
Yeah.
Jiraiya nodded, then explained, This is where I lost Yahiko's signature. He vanished inside this radius, but…
He glanced around. Trees and more trees. Any tracks had already been scrubbed away.
Underground, maybe?
He closed his eyes and spread his senses through the earth. After a long moment he opened them with a sigh.
Nothing below either. It is like he evaporated. Where could he go?
Vincent did not answer right away. He circled slowly, eyes on the trunks.
Jiraiya, what if they are inside the trees.
He knew perfectly well. As a traveler to this world, he knew the story by heart. But walking straight to Pain's hideout would raise questions he did not want.
Jiraiya shook his head, then stopped, eyes widening.
Maybe Pain has tricks we have not seen. He could be inside one of these. But there are hundreds. We could spend a lifetime knocking on bark.
We will not.
Vincent smiled and motioned Jiraiya back.
Once Jiraiya had cleared the blast radius, Vincent faced the grove, drew a breath, and braced.
His feet hammered down.
The ground cratered. Vincent shot skyward, flipped, drew his right fist to his hip and gathered power.
Serious Punch.
He came down like a meteor.
The earth split. Jagged fissures ran like talons through the soil. Trees slumped and sank. From the impact point, trunks cracked open in ring after ring, bursting into splinters that the shockwave lifted and whirled toward the clouds.
Jiraiya's mouth fell open.
Every time I think I have seen it all, he muttered, and still it shakes me.
When the dust thinned, both men fixed on a single tree that still stood, perfectly upright.
With half the grove flattened, one survivor told them everything they needed to know.
That is the one.
Vincent brushed grit from his jacket and strode over. Jiraiya cupped a Rasengan in his palm, ready to erase tree and tenants together.
Hold up, sensei. Let me probe it first.
Vincent set both hands to the bark. The trunk was far tougher than he had expected. That was how it had weathered the tail of his punch.
It would not weather him.
Hup.
Armament hardened his forearms to iron. Ten fingers bit into the bark. Fine cracks spidered outward.
Vincent hauled his arms apart.
The trunk peeled with a long wet rip, opening a jagged seam.
Firelight flickered within, throwing a strange, secret glow.
Paper swarmed over the torn edges and began knitting the wound closed.
Move.
Vincent slipped through. Jiraiya followed. Vincent sparked a flame in his palm to light the passage.
Jiraiya-sensei. It has been a long time.
The voice floated from the dark. Familiar. Thin.
Nagato. So it really is you.
Jiraiya's heart lurched. In the glow stood a gaunt redhead strapped into a grotesque device, black receivers bristling from his back. He did not flinch at their arrival. He smiled faintly, composed, almost gentle.
Jiraiya's eyes moved to the flanking figures. Yahiko. Konan.
I never imagined the four of us would meet again like this.
Jiraiya shook his head with a sad smile. The look he gave them was heavy with grief.
What is wrong with this way.
Nagato's smile stayed, but his voice was frail.
What happened to you.
Jiraiya's question came out raw.
It is too late for questions now.
Nagato's head tipped toward Konan. She raised a hand. Paper unfurled from her shoulders and spiraled into the air.
Vincent watched the sheets bloom and felt no threat in them.
Before their eyes, Konan's paper assembled a stage.
Watch closely, said Nagato. This is what we lived. This is our pain.
He fell silent and faced the tableau.
First came a boy with red hair.
The Third Great Ninja War, Jiraiya breathed. He recognized the wreckage, the rain, the ruin. He remembered stepping into Amegakure with Tsunade and Orochimaru to clash with Hanzo of the Salamander. He remembered the Hidden Leaf's squads pushing through the city's veins.
The scene shifted to a single room.
Nagato's family, thin and hungry, were about to slip out in search of food when two shadows slid through the window. The flak jackets were Leaf. The blades came out fast.
In the paper room, Nagato's parents grappled with the intruders and waved frantically for their son to run. They lasted seconds. Kunai punched through them. They fell.
The child watched his mother and father die.
The paper dissolved and rose again.
Jiraiya's face tightened. He knew these facts. He had taken Nagato, Yahiko, and Konan in afterward. He had taught them, fed them, believed he had led Nagato out of that black well.
He had not. The image of his parents' murder had rooted too deep.
Jiraiya-sensei, have you ever felt it.
Nagato's voice was soft and cold.
The pain of watching your parents die in front of you.
----------------------------------------------------
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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