"I should probably get myself a pair of sunglasses."
That thought surfaced almost the instant Qingshui calmed down after experimenting with the Rinnegan.
Under ordinary circumstances, there wouldn't be any problem. But if he were ever forced to activate the Rinnegan in a critical moment, there would be no hiding it. The concentric purple ripples were far too distinctive—far removed from normal eyes.
If the wrong people discovered that he possessed the Rinnegan, the consequences would be disastrous.
Danzo Shimura.
The Root organization.
The Hokage's advisors.
Any one of them would become a massive headache.
Until he was truly invincible in the ninja world, there were things that absolutely had to remain hidden. Some secrets, once exposed, could never be buried again.
Fortunately, although the ninja world still operated under a feudal system, its technological level was far from primitive. Refrigerators, radios, hair dryers—these things already existed.
Compared to those, sunglasses were trivial.
After double-checking everything and confirming that no chakra residue or abnormal fluctuations had been left behind, Qingshui finally opened the door and stepped out of his room.
Almost at the same time, the door across the hallway opened as well.
Mikoto stepped out.
She had clearly just finished showering.
A faint, fresh fragrance lingered in the air—the clean scent of soap and shampoo. Her long black hair was still damp, smooth strands cascading naturally down her back.
She wasn't wearing her usual mission uniform.
Instead, she had changed into comfortable, close-fitting home clothes that accentuated her figure without being overly revealing.
Slender waist.
Graceful curves.
Full where it mattered.
Qingshui sighed softly, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than it should have.
"Rich, but not generous," he muttered inwardly.
Still…
The child wouldn't go hungry.
"What are you staring at?"
Mikoto noticed his gaze immediately and lightly smacked his arm.
"I'm wondering," Qingshui said with a perfectly straight face, "who this stunning beauty is—so lovely she could eclipse the moon and shame the flowers. I simply couldn't look away."
"Smooth-talker," Mikoto scoffed, rolling her eyes at him.
"Even when you roll your eyes, you're beautiful," he added without missing a beat. "Truly a natural-born beauty."
Mikoto snorted, turned away, and walked toward the living room, her ears just slightly red.
Qingshui followed after her.
"Your hair's still wet," he said casually. "That must feel uncomfortable. I'll dry it for you later."
He wasn't sure whether Jiraiya owned a hair dryer, but judging from Konan's long hair, there was a good chance she did. Otherwise, drying it naturally in the humid climate of the Land of Rain would take forever.
As expected, his guess was correct.
After borrowing a hair dryer from Konan, Qingshui took the initiative and began gently drying Mikoto's hair.
The warm air flowed through her long strands, and Mikoto sat quietly, allowing him to work. It was a strangely peaceful scene.
From the side, Konan watched the two of them with wide, curious eyes.
"Mikoto-neechan," she suddenly asked, tilting her head, "are you Qingshui-niichan's girlfriend?"
The room fell silent for a brief moment.
Mikoto's face flushed instantly.
"No—no, we're not!" she said quickly, shaking her head.
But as the words left her mouth, she paused.
For some reason, the thought lingered.
…Actually, that wouldn't be so bad.
She shook her head lightly, trying to dispel the stray idea.
At that moment, the sound of the door opening echoed from outside.
"I'm back!"
Jiraiya's loud voice rang out, followed by the unmistakable smell of fresh fish.
"I caught a few big ones today," he added cheerfully. "Rest a bit more. Dinner will be ready soon."
With that, he headed straight into the kitchen.
Over the past year, in order to properly take care of the three children, Jiraiya had surprisingly developed decent cooking skills. Life in the Land of Rain wasn't easy, and he'd learned to adapt.
"I'll help!" Yahiko said immediately, jumping up with enthusiasm.
Nagato hesitated for a moment.
He clearly didn't want to stay alone with the Leaf ninjas.
After a brief pause, he quietly followed Yahiko into the kitchen as well.
Watching Nagato's back, Jiraiya let out a silent sigh.
The reason he had taken in these three war orphans—teaching them ninjutsu and guiding them—was, at its core, because of Nagato.
In his youth, Jiraiya had once accidentally wandered into Mount Myōboku, where he met the Great Toad Sage and received a prophecy.
One of his students would bring about a great change in the ninja world.
When Jiraiya later discovered that Nagato possessed the legendary Rinnegan—the eyes of the Sage of Six Paths—he could not help but associate him with the Child of Prophecy.
Of course, he wasn't certain.
Prophecies were vague by nature.
Nagato might be the one.
Or he might not.
That was why Jiraiya planned to continue traveling the ninja world in the future, searching for the true Child of Prophecy and guiding them toward genuine peace.
---
Somewhere far away—
In a place Jiraiya could never have imagined—
Someone was quietly watching Nagato.
It was White Zetsu.
A creation of Madara Uchiha.
Because the Rinnegan was the key to Madara's future resurrection, Nagato had to be monitored constantly. And White Zetsu was the perfect observer.
It possessed the Mayfly Technique, allowing it to merge seamlessly with the earth and vegetation.
It also possessed the Impersonation Technique, capable of transforming its appearance and even mimicking chakra signatures.
Unless someone had the ability to sense malice itself, detecting White Zetsu was nearly impossible.
When it noticed an Uchiha clansman interacting with Nagato, White Zetsu immediately transmitted the information.
---
Deep underground, in an unknown and forbidden location, stood a colossal, grotesque statue.
The Gedo Statue.
The hollow shell of the Ten-Tails.
Thick, tube-like structures extended from the statue, connecting it to an old man seated before it.
His body was frail.
His skin wrinkled.
His life was sustained only by the chakra flowing from the statue into him.
This man was Madara Uchiha.
If the Gedo Statue were removed, he would die instantly.
"Lord Madara," White Zetsu's voice echoed through the chamber, waking him from his rest. "This is bad."
Madara slowly opened his eyes.
"What is it?"
"An Uchiha clansman has made contact with Nagato."
A sharp glint flashed through Madara's gaze.
"Who?"
"Mikoto Uchiha."
White Zetsu possessed astonishing intelligence-gathering abilities. Information on the entire Uchiha clan—especially notable members—was well within its grasp.
Mikoto Uchiha.
Three-Tomoe Sharingan.
Strong.
Talented.
Madara closed his eyes briefly, recalling the information.
"It doesn't matter," he said slowly. "She isn't qualified. She won't affect my plan."
Talent alone meant nothing.
Madara understood the Sharingan better than anyone.
To become the executor of his will, one needed more than power.
They needed overwhelming love.
Only love that intense could transform into hatred powerful enough to awaken the true potential of the Sharingan.
Madara himself had not been a prodigy in childhood.
Yet he had become the man feared as the Shinobi World's Asura—standing shoulder to shoulder with Hashirama Senju, the God of Shinobi.
"Huh? So we do nothing?" White Zetsu asked, sounding slightly disappointed.
Madara paused.
"…We can test her."
"If the result isn't too bad, she can serve as an alternate."
He had already selected a more suitable candidate—but that person was still too young.
Having a backup was acceptable.
Madara then quietly explained the test plan.
White Zetsu listened carefully.
When Madara finished, White Zetsu suddenly asked, "Lord Madara, once this mission is done, can you tell me what it feels like to need to poop?"
Madara's face darkened instantly.
Without another word, he closed his eyes.
Out of sight.
Out of mind.
White Zetsu, already used to this reaction, muttered to itself, "So what does the urge to poop actually feel like?" before sinking into the ground and disappearing.
After leaving Madara, White Zetsu found Black Zetsu and relayed Madara's instructions in detail.
Madara believed himself to be the mastermind manipulating everything from the shadows.
He never realized—
That compared to Black Zetsu, who had existed for thousands of years, he himself was merely another pawn.
"Proceed as Madara instructed," Black Zetsu said calmly.
As long as the Rinnegan remained secure—
Everything else was insignificant.
---
The rain continued to fall softly over the Land of Rain.
Inside the small house, warmth spread from the kitchen.
The children laughed.
Dinner simmered.
And unseen hands slowly began to move.
The stage had been set.
And the wheels of fate continued to turn.