After entering the borders of the Land of Rain, the downpour became even more ferocious.
Most of the villages along the way were abandoned, with skeletons left uncollected among the broken walls and debris.
Occasionally, emaciated refugees could be seen huddling under leaky eaves, their gazes hollow as they watched the travelers pass by.
Jiraiya's heart grew increasingly heavy.
"After all these years, this place remains unchanged." He looked at a child who had perished from hunger in the muddy water, his fingers trembling slightly as he sighed. "Back in Konoha, that old cunning schemer Danzo, who used to stir up trouble from the shadows, has already fallen, and the village has finally gotten on the right track under Minato's lead. But Hanzo... just how much longer does he plan to ruin this country?"
"Hmph, what exactly is that former 'Demi-god' doing?" Jiraiya snorted, clearly disgusted by Hanzo's current behavior.
"He's already been phased out," Gamakon interjected, his gaze deepening. "Besides... do you really think Hanzo is still the one calling the shots in the Rain Village?"
Jiraiya came to a halt, his expression turning grave.
"What do you mean?"
"Think about Obito, think about Black Zetsu," Gamakon reminded him. "Since even Danzo could fall, the chessboard of this shinobi world has long since changed. If the Akatsuki has truly become corrupted, then a so-called ruler like Hanzo is nothing more than a joke in the face of those legendary Rinnegan eyes."
Jiraiya's face turned incredibly grim.
He thought of that red-haired boy with the Rinnegan—Nagato.
The child who once hid timidly behind Yahiko, promising to protect his friends.
If those eyes were truly being exploited by darkness...
"We must pick up the pace."
Jiraiya took a deep breath, momentarily pushing aside his relief regarding Konoha's new era. Chakra surged from his feet as he blurred into a shadow, racing through the curtain of rain.
Two hours later.
A cluster of metallic high-rise buildings faintly emerged at the end of the horizon of rain.
Countless massive pipes entwined around the exterior walls like veins; steam and rainwater intermingled, shrouding the city in a surreal, oppressive atmosphere.
They had arrived at the Rain Village.
Jiraiya stopped on a high vantage point, overlooking the secluded city.
"The security is tighter than before."
He activated his sensing, his brows furrowed. "There's a barrier around the perimeter, and this rain... it's infused with chakra."
"It's the Rain Tiger at Will Technique."
Gamakon identified the jutsu immediately. "The caster infuses chakra into the rain to sense everything it touches. The moment we set foot in the Rain Village, we'll be spotted."
"Another sensory ninjutsu?" Jiraiya felt a headache coming on. "How do we slip in? Use the Toad Flat Shadow Control Technique to possess a civilian?"
"Useless."
Gamakon shook his head. "The rain never stops; even civilians are soaked. Plus, the Rain Village is extremely xenophobic now. A fresh face will draw immediate suspicion."
"Then what?" Jiraiya scratched his head. "We can't just barge in, can we?"
"Barge in? Only a brute would do that."
Gamakon smirked, pointing a claw at the scroll on Jiraiya's back. "We're here to visit family, not lay siege. Since we can't sneak in, we'll make them 'invite' us."
"Invite?"
Jiraiya blinked.
"Aren't you a novelist? You have the draft of 'Icha Icha Paradise' on you, right?" Gamakon's large eyes blinked. "Use your talents. For instance... disguise yourself as a wandering researcher or a down-on-his-luck artist displaced by war?"
"The rain can sense chakra; a disguise won't hide that."
"Who said anything about disguising your chakra?" Gamakon looked at him like he was an idiot. "Take off that flashy red vest, put on some rags, and then..."
Gamakon opened his mouth and spat out a palm-sized, faintly glowing orb of flesh.
"Swallow this."
"What on earth is that?!" Jiraiya looked at the slimy thing with total disgust. "It looks like an internal organ."
"This is my Demon Pill," Gamakon lied through his teeth. "Swallow it, and it will expand in your stomach, temporarily isolating your chakra fluctuations. As long as you don't actively use ninjutsu, you'll appear to be a commoner with negligible chakra to the caster."
Jiraiya eyed it suspiciously. "For real?"
"Believe it or not. If you don't want it, fine, stay out here in the rain."
Jiraiya gritted his teeth, pinched his nose, and gulped the orb down.
"Gah—! What is that taste?! It reeks of toad oil!"
"Good medicine tastes bitter, don't you know?"
Gamakon shrunk his body and crawled into Jiraiya's shirt. "Alright, now seal your ninja gear into a scroll and reverse-summon it back to Mount Myoboku. From now on, we're just a pair of traveling... well, performers."
"Performers?" Jiraiya's corner of his mouth twitched.
"Exactly. You're the trainer, and I'm the trained toad. It's a perfect combo."
Ten minutes later.
A middle-aged man in tattered straw rain gear, sporting a face full of stubble and looking utterly destitute, trudged toward the entrance of the Rain Village.
A small purple toad was tucked into his chest.
"Halt!"
Two Rain Shinobi wearing raincoats and respirators blocked his path, their kunai gleaming coldly. "State your business. The Rain Village doesn't welcome outsiders."
The middle-aged man (Jiraiya) looked up trembling, a fawning smile plastered on his face—a performance worthy of an Oscar.
"G-good sirs, please have mercy."
His voice was raspy and laced with a sob. "I'm just a traveling performer. I ran into bandits on the road, and they took all my coin... I can't go any further. I just want to enter the village for a bit of food and to escape the rain..."
As he spoke, he patted the bulge in his shirt. "I even have a fortune-telling toad here that can perform for you..."
The two Rain Shinobi exchanged a glance, confirming the man was just a pathetic commoner.
"A performer?" one of the shinobi sneered. "In times like these, who has the heart to watch a show? Scram! Don't be an eyesore."
"Wait."
The other shinobi noticed something. Under the tattered straw cloak, he caught a glimpse of the corner of a book.
It was the draft of 'Icha Icha Paradise'.
"What's that?" the shinobi pointed.
Jiraiya's heart tightened, but he maintained a panicked facade, clutching his chest. "T-this... it's just some... low-brow stories I wrote..."
"Let me see that." The shinobi snatched the manuscript.
Jiraiya's heart leaped into his throat. If his handwriting or the content was recognized...
The shinobi flipped through a few pages.
Contempt turned to surprise, then to a blush, and then his breathing quickened.
"This... this plot..." The shinobi swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the page. "This is some good stuff!"
The Rain Village had been closed off for years; entertainment was virtually non-existent.
Such a book, filled with 'humanistic concern' and 'artistic flair,' was irresistible to ninja stuck in the rain all day.
"Ahem." The shinobi closed the book and feigned a couple of coughs, casually tucking it into his own pocket. "This book... is suspected of being contraband. It's confiscated."
"..."
Gamakon nearly burst out laughing in his shirt. 'Is this some kind of variation of the Sexy Jutsu?'
"Alright, you look pitiful enough." Having secured the book, the shinobi was in a much better mood. He waved his hand. "Get in. Stay off the main roads and find a shack in the western slums. If you cause trouble, we'll toss you in the sewer to feed the fish."
"Yes, yes! Thank you, sirs! Thank you!"
Jiraiya bowed repeatedly, entering the gates of the Rain Village like a stray dog.
Once inside, the oppressive metallic atmosphere hit him.
Jiraiya kept his head down, walking quickly through the streets.
Until he walked into a deserted alley, where he finally straightened his back, the subservience vanishing instantly.