The night passed.
No one knew the details of the conversation between Minato Namikaze and the Third Hokage that night. When the morning sun finally spilled into the office, the gloom had vanished from Minato's face. Although he hadn't slept a wink, his mind was exceptionally sharp.
A brand-new Fourth Hokage cloak hung on the rack, its white fabric a heavy reminder of his responsibility. His mind raced, running through every step of last night's plan and calculating every possible variable or accident. There was the role Jiraiya would play, the support the Third would provide from the rear, and...
His student, who still knew nothing of this.
Kakashi.
Minato closed his eyes, the image of the silver-haired boy's lonely back surfacing in his mind. He decided to go see him.
The Konoha Memorial Stone.
The morning mist hadn't yet burnt off, leaving a fine layer of dew on the black stone. Kakashi Hatake stood before it, as he had for a long time. Clad in his Anbu uniform, his back was ramrod straight, yet he radiated an aura of isolation that pushed the world away.
His gaze drifted between two names carved into the rock: Obito Uchiha and Rin Nohara. His gloved fingers traced the cold grooves of the letters over and over again.
"Obito... Rin..."
His voice was a mere breath, easily scattered by the wind. "I... I failed to protect you. Now, the only thing I can do is use this life to protect our teacher, his wife... and their child who is about to be born."
He bowed his head slightly. "If you were still here... you'd definitely laugh at me. A pathetic loser who can only talk big..."
As he whispered to the dead, a figure watched him silently from the shadows of the nearby trees. Beneath a mysterious tiger-patterned mask, a single eye reflected Kakashi's mourning form.
"Minato Namikaze is here."
A raspy voice rose from the gloom as Black Zetsu's body slowly emerged from the ground. "Your teacher is heading this way. If you don't leave now, you won't make it in time."
Obito didn't move. His gaze remained locked on Kakashi.
"Don't forget our plan!" Black Zetsu's tone sharpened. "Creating unnecessary complications at a turning point like this is foolish. If you're exposed now, everything we've worked for goes down the drain!"
Obito remained silent.
Black Zetsu was right. For the sake of a world where he could be reunited with Rin, personal emotions had to be discarded. He took one last look at the self-torturing Kakashi, then turned away. The three-tomoe Sharingan in his mask began to spin.
"Let's go."
The space in front of him began to warp, spiraling into a vortex.
At that exact moment, Minato appeared at the end of the path leading to the Memorial Stone. He saw Kakashi's lonely silhouette from a distance and instinctively slowed his pace, preparing to approach.
But a second later, he froze.
Something was wrong. A faint space-time fluctuation was emanating from the direction of the Memorial Stone—a sensation entirely different from his own technique. The ripple seemed to swallow the surrounding light as it twisted.
His eyes snapped toward the source of the disturbance. Near the edge of the woods behind Kakashi, the air itself was swirling into a void. A figure in a black robe and a mask was being reduced to a blurred outline within the distortion.
Space-time ninjutsu.
The Memorial Stone.
Kakashi.
Gamakon's prophecy and his own worst-case scenarios had just become a reality. A name broke through his restraint and slipped past his lips, his voice barely audible.
"Obito..."
The whisper was faint, yet it caused the figure about to vanish into the void to stiffen abruptly.
He had heard it. That name he had long since cast aside was being spoken once more by the teacher he respected most.
The hesitation lasted only a heartbeat.
The spatial vortex closed completely, and both the figure and that ominous energy vanished as if they had never existed. The morning sun finally pierced the mist, bathing the clearing in light.
Minato stood rooted to the spot. Despite the warmth of the sun on his skin, he felt a bone-deep chill. He looked at Kakashi, who remained oblivious to the encounter, still submerged in his grief.
The pity he felt as a teacher was now being replaced by something much heavier and colder. Minato slowly clenched his fists.
The horizon began to pale with the first light of dawn.
Jiraiya walked down the deserted streets, the morning air crisp and cool. Finally, the first step had been taken. He rubbed his temples; staying up all night under such high tension had left his body exhausted.
"Tch."
On top of his head, Gamakon let out a dry sound. "Quite the performance last night. Tired, aren't you, Lord Jiraiya?"
"Keep your mouth shut," Jiraiya grumbled. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have to work this hard."
"You can't blame me for that." Gamakon kicked his legs slightly and scratched his chin with a claw. "I only told you what was going to happen; how you handle it is your business. But..."
The toad's tone shifted, losing its playfulness. "You've arranged everything for Minato, but let me ask you this, Jiraiya: where do you fit in?"
Jiraiya stopped walking. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Gamakon said flatly, "that Minato Namikaze and Obito Uchiha both use space-time ninjutsu. Their battles are decided in the blink of an eye. What about you? Your Sage Mode is formidable, and your Rasengan is powerful enough once you add elemental changes. But can you keep up with their speed? When they are attacking each other with Flying Thunder God and Kamui, what can you actually do?"
Gamakon leaned down, his voice cold. "Will you just stand on the sidelines prepping Sage Mode? Or will you charge in... only to become a burden that Minato has to waste focus protecting?"
The street fell into a heavy silence.
Jiraiya stood frozen, his shadow stretched long and thin by the morning light.
A burden. He had never imagined that word would one day apply to him. For the first time since that day in the Rain Village, he felt a crushing sense of powerlessness. Back then, the Sannin had barely managed to survive against Hanzo, unable to turn the tide of the war.
Now, it was the turn of his most prized student, Minato. He had thought he'd laid out a meticulous plan, mobilized every resource, and gained control over the situation. But a single sentence from Gamakon had pierced through to the most embarrassing reality.
In the core battlefield where the outcome would truly be decided, he might not even be qualified to intervene. He would be left far behind by that high-speed combat. He would be forced to watch, unable to do anything.
"Heh..."
Jiraiya suddenly chuckled. The sound was self-deprecating, but underneath it burned a rekindled spark of defiance. He slowly raised his head, and the casual, easy-going look in his eyes was replaced by pure, focused battle intent.
"You're right, Gamakon."
He didn't continue toward the inn. Instead, he spun around and looked toward the mountain ranges surrounding the village. He would return to Mount Myoboku to train.
"It's been a long time... since I've felt like I needed to put everything on the line."
"Let's go!" Jiraiya barked. He took off, a white blur leaping across the rooftops toward the village outskirts.
"Go tell Lord Fukasaku and Lady Shima that I'm going into the deepest level of Sage training! This time, I'm going to make those two old-timers teach me every secret technique they've got!"