"Are your mission parameters visible? My objective is to gather as many rare materials as possible to construct a two-way permanent transport channel," Kakashi stated.
"The Emperor wants me to keep an eye out for 'myself' in this world. If possible, I'm to exchange eyes to awaken the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan!" Obito added, his face lighting up with excitement.
"Also... recruit talent," Kakashi noted, glancing sideways at Nagato.
"My mission is to capture the Tailed Beasts," Nagato said, his expression somber.
"Nagato, according to the parallel world data provided by the Emperor, we are likely within the borders of the Land of Fire. Konoha Village shouldn't be far."
"Although this is a parallel world, Obito and I are easily recognizable due to our identities. You, however, operated mostly in the Hidden Rain. There shouldn't be anyone in Konoha who recognizes your face."
"You are responsible for intelligence gathering. Obito and I will prioritize collecting the materials for the transport channel." Kakashi gave Nagato a meaningful look.
"Splitting up?"
Nagato nodded. It was exactly what he had in mind.
"Came to this world? Cross-dimensional? Emperor? War? Communism?"
Perched high atop a tree branch, Jiraiya listened to the fragmented conversation drifting from the distance, his pupils trembling in shock.
He knew that sensation of spatial fluctuation when the three arrived—it felt exactly like summoning a toad from Mount Myōboku. But these people were from another world entirely?
One face was familiar, the other two left a deep impression.
One was clearly Kakashi, but he wore no forehead protector, and both his eyes were visible and deep-set—clearly not the 'Copy Ninja' of Konoha he knew.
Another was the disciple he had taken in during the Second Great Ninja War—Nagato, the boy he believed to be the Child of Prophecy.
The last one felt strangely familiar, but he couldn't quite place him. He looks like Minato's student... but didn't that kid die at Kannabi Bridge?
Suddenly, one of the three swept their gaze toward his hiding spot. Jiraiya's heart froze.
Sharingan!
Fortunately, as one of the Sannin, Jiraiya was a master of concealment. He had prepared his camouflage well in advance and narrowly evaded Obito's casual sweep.
Cold sweat soaked his back as he gasped for air.
An Uchiha?
His brow furrowed deeply.
Watching the group split into two paths, he gritted his teeth and formed a shadow clone.
"You follow those two!"
His main body would pursue Nagato.
Among the three, he could tell Nagato was the most hesitant, the one most resistant to the idea of war. Plus, given their past history, Jiraiya felt he knew Nagato best.
But first, there was something urgent.
Jiraiya summoned a small messenger toad. He stuffed a scroll containing the intelligence he had just gathered into its mouth.
"Get this to the Third Hokage immediately."
With that, he dashed off in the direction Nagato had gone.
A Town on the Border of the Land of Fire
Nagato didn't head straight for Konoha. He wanted to properly understand this world first.
"You say ninjas are trash? That they made you homeless? That because of profit, three Great Ninja Wars erupted in just a few decades?"
Inside a tavern, Nagato was conversing with a drunken man.
"Hasn't anyone ever stepped up to lead everyone, to form a single nation where benefits are distributed communally?"
The man looked at Nagato with disdain. "You're definitely a greenhorn. Let's keep it simple: You're from the Land of Fire. If you were the ruler, would you give more resources to other countries? Wouldn't you just want to hoard benefits for your own nation?"
Nagato thought of Uchiha Senju. The Emperor treated everyone equally. Whether they were from the Water Province or the Fire Province, he never showed favoritism.
Because of this, Nagato often heard complaints at the University. People grumbled that since Uchiha Senju was from the Land of Fire, why did he care so much for outsiders? They argued he should enslave the other provinces or tax them heavily to make life easier for the 'home' province.
Many cursed Uchiha Senju in private, calling him cruel to his own kin and indifferent to blood ties.
"Then... couldn't each country elect a representative? And then distribute resources evenly based on consensus?" Nagato suggested.
The surrounding patrons burst into laughter.
"What do you think the Five Kage are for?"
"Do you think the Five Kage didn't talk before going to war? Wars start because the distribution is uneven! If I'm stronger than you, why should I listen to you?"
The men chugged their ale, laughing as they ignored him.
Nagato recalled the Emperor's words: "The Ninja Village System is the cancer of the world!"
Looking at the cynical faces around him, he wanted to argue but found no words.
Walking along the muddy, pothole-ridden road between the Land of Fire and the Land of Rivers, Nagato's mood plummeted.
In the Empire, even the roads between rural villages were paved smooth by Earth Style users—let alone major provincial highways.
Yet, back home, countless people yearned for the return of the era of Villages and Daimyos. To them, it was a romanticized, beautiful age. An age where the "Will of Fire" burned bright, where bonds between people were sacred. Where strangers without blood ties would sacrifice themselves for one another. Where Kage and Daimyo didn't hold absolute power but worked in harmony for a flourishing nation.
They claimed that in that era, the air was sweet with freedom, unlike the oppressive atmosphere of the Empire where the pressure to perform drove people to suicide.
Nagato had once fantasized that he, too, belonged to that romantic era.
But standing on this soil now, he fell into deep self-doubt.
In the distance, a crowd of refugees trudged by. Their faces were sallow and waxen, carrying small bundles, their eyes dead with the numbness of survival. They looked like they were fleeing a calamity.
Who exactly said this was a romantic and beautiful era?
Nagato tried to ask them what was happening, but they only glanced at his clean, fine clothes, frowned, and walked faster.
He had to buy food and offer it to them just to get an answer.
They were fleeing famine.
The Land of Rivers was sandwiched between the Land of Wind and the Land of Fire. A once-in-a-decade sandstorm had swept in from the Wind Nation, compounding with a years-long drought. The crops of the River Nation had failed for a full year. Famine had descended, and they had no choice but to migrate toward the Land of Fire.
Nagato frowned, utterly baffled.
Why is the Land of Rivers so fragile?
When the sandstorm came, didn't the diviners or Weather Ninjas predict it?
Why did no one stop the sandstorm when it first appeared? It would only take ten Wind Style Jonin to disperse it easily. Why make it so complicated?
And a perennial drought? What does that even mean?
If there's a drought, just deploy a thousand Water Style users! They could fill a river easily! Or, for a permanent fix, have a few hundred Earth Style users tunnel down to tap into the groundwater!
It's such a simple problem. Why is it being treated like an unsolvable disaster? Why are tens of thousands of people fleeing with no one to help them?
What are the leaders of the Land of Rivers doing?
"Are your leaders doing nothing?" Nagato asked, incredulous. "You could just hire Water Style ninjas to fill the rivers, ask Earth Style ninjas to dig wells where you live, or get Wind Style ninjas to blow away the sandstorm!"