[Naruto Grandfather] Chapter 121 - 125

Chapter 121

Unlike Jiraiya’s visible disgust, the Third Hokage, whose life had been spent in shadows and schemes, showed no such reaction to the Daimyo’s revelation about poisoning his brothers.

In fact, after spending so long trapped in Uzumaki Chito’s punishment and growing increasingly twisted, he found himself quietly admiring the Daimyo’s ruthless pragmatism.

With a soft chuckle, the Third Hokage addressed the Daimyo of the Land of Fire:

"Your Excellency, the successor to your throne is your son, Hikaru."

The Daimyo froze, his expression shifting to one of sneering disbelief.

"Impossible," he spat. "That whelp is nothing more than a child with the lowly blood of a ninja."

He glared at the Third Hokage, his tone dripping with contempt. "The ministers of the Land of Fire would never recognize him as Daimyo."

"You’re lying to me, Sandaime. You’ve been conspiring with the usurpers and now you’re using Hikaru’s name to deceive me."

Hearing this, Jiraiya’s simmering disdain for the Daimyo boiled over. The man’s casual dismissal of Hikaru’s heritage—and his blatant insult to ninja blood—sparked a fury that Jiraiya couldn’t contain.

The white-haired Sannin’s battle-hardened aura surged forth, his shawl of white hair rising like a wild flame. The oppressive pressure of his anger filled the room, and the Daimyo, overwhelmed, nearly soiled himself in terror.

Seeing the tension, the Third Hokage intervened sharply, his voice cutting through the room.

"Jiraiya! What do you think you’re doing? This is the Daimyo! Show some dignity and humility!"

Jiraiya froze at his mentor’s rebuke, his body stiffening. His face contorted with conflicting emotions—anger, frustration, and a bitter sense of betrayal.

After a moment, he turned toward the Third Hokage, his voice low and tense:

"Sensei, with all due respect, I am the Hokage now."

His eyes burned with conviction as he continued, "Is it wrong for the Hokage to defend the honor of the ninja in his village?"

The Third Hokage’s face darkened at Jiraiya’s defiance, a flicker of fear mingling with his anger.

He’s rebelling.

The realization struck like a bolt of lightning. The Third Hokage knew all too well how fragile his position was. His current authority rested entirely on his reputation and his past bond with Jiraiya. His resurrection by Uzumaki Chito was an unnatural state—his power was a pale shadow of what it once was.

And hadn’t he already been killed by one apprentice?

To maintain his influence, he needed to tread carefully, keeping Jiraiya under control while preserving the illusion of respect.

Drawing a deep breath, the Third Hokage steadied himself. When he spoke again, his voice carried a venomous edge:

"Jiraiya, do you think being Hokage gives you the right to act recklessly? Without the Daimyo’s support, how will our village survive? How will our people eat if we lose their funding?"

He leaned forward, his soul-bound form looming as his tone turned scolding:

"You are endangering the entire village for the sake of your precious pride. As your teacher, it is my duty to correct you. Now come here and apologize to the Daimyo!"

Jiraiya felt as though a storm had descended upon him. The words hit him like hailstones, leaving him dazed and frustrated.

Through the haze of anger and disappointment, he saw the truth that the Third Hokage tried to hide. The fear in his master’s eyes, the desperation behind his anger—it was all too clear.

Why is Sensei so afraid? Jiraiya thought.

He already knew the answer. The role of Hokage had revealed to him the fragile underbelly of Konoha’s political structure. Even as the Fifth Hokage, Jiraiya had felt the weight of dependence on the Daimyo’s financial support.

Still, the sight of his once-great mentor—now reduced to a hollow, scheming shadow—filled him with a deep sadness.

This isn’t the man who taught me to strive for greatness, he thought bitterly. This is just... a ghost.

Finally, Jiraiya let out a tired sigh and waved his hand dismissively.

"Fine. Talk to the Daimyo yourself," he said, his voice resigned.

Turning on his heel, he strode out of the Hokage’s office, his movements tense and hurried.

"Jiraiya! Do you have no sense of discipline?" the Third Hokage called after him, his voice shrill and scolding. "You’re the Hokage! Where are you going? Come back here!"

The words followed Jiraiya like a whip, but he didn’t look back. His pace quickened, his heart pounding with a mix of frustration and shame.

As he fled the oppressive atmosphere of the office, Jiraiya’s inattention betrayed him.

Bang!

He collided head-on with Nara Shikaku, who had been hurrying to deliver a report.

The impact sent Shikaku stumbling back, his exhaustion turning to irritation as he glared at the person who had barreled into him.

But when he looked up and recognized Jiraiya, his frustration quickly turned to concern.

"Godaime, are you—"

"Don’t call me that," Jiraiya interrupted, his voice hollow.

He offered Shikaku a faint, rueful smile and shook his head. "Just... call me Jiraiya."

Chapter 122

As one of the core members of the legendary Ino-Shika-Cho trio and Konoha’s most trusted strategist, Nara Shikaku was universally acknowledged for his brilliance.

Even though he often appeared lethargic, his mind was sharper than anyone else’s.

The moment he heard Jiraiya’s tone and the angry roars of the Third Hokage echoing through the corridor, Shikaku instantly pieced together what had happened.

Great. As if having a colossal threat like Uzumaki Chito hanging over our heads wasn’t enough, the Third Hokage is now in conflict with Konoha’s strongest asset.

What a headache.

The sheer absurdity of the situation made Shikaku feel an exhaustion that went far beyond physical fatigue.

If I’d known it would come to this, I might’ve let myself get taken when Naruto invaded Konoha to snatch Iruka and Anko.

As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Shikaku realized Jiraiya had already stormed off. With a resigned sigh, he knelt to pick up the scattered documents from the floor before continuing toward the Hokage’s office.

When Shikaku entered the office, he found the Third Hokage and the Daimyo of the Land of Fire engaged in what appeared to be an amicable conversation.

If an outsider had walked in, they might have believed it was still the era of the Third Hokage’s leadership.

The sight made Shikaku sigh inwardly.

Really, when you were alive, you didn’t have this irrational hunger for power.

But as a seasoned strategist, Shikaku’s ability to mask his emotions was impeccable. Despite the irritation simmering in his heart, he greeted them with his usual calm demeanor, betraying nothing.

The Third Hokage noticed Shikaku’s arrival and immediately beckoned him forward. His semi-translucent soul form took on a regretful expression as he turned to the Daimyo.

"This is Nara Shikaku," the Third Hokage said with a smile. "Konoha’s most brilliant strategist. He’ll work with you to finalize the next steps."

Then, with a touch of exaggerated regret, he added, "Unfortunately, my time outside the stone has run out for today."

With that, the Third Hokage’s form dissolved into black smoke and vanished into the cursed stone, leaving Shikaku alone with the Daimyo.

The Daimyo’s demeanor shifted immediately. The amicable smile he had worn moments ago twisted into a smug, condescending smirk.

"So, you’re the one in charge now," he sneered.

"You should already know my instructions. From this moment forward, Konoha will serve as my temporary capital as we fight to crush the rebels."

He leaned back, his posture radiating arrogance.

"Prepare me a villa and several maids—I need to rest. Oh, and I’ve heard rumors about the female ninjas of Konoha—"

Shikaku’s eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle but unmistakable sign of his growing anger. Anyone who knew him well would recognize it as the precursor to a calculated response.

But even as his irritation mounted, Shikaku weighed his options carefully.

If this is the Hokage’s order, disobeying it could create unnecessary complications.

Reluctantly, he bowed slightly and said, "Understood. Since these are the Third Hokage’s instructions, please follow me."

He deliberately ignored the Daimyo’s requests for maids, villas, and his lecherous implications about female ninjas. If he wants those, he can deal with the Third Hokage himself.

The Daimyo’s face darkened at Shikaku’s vague response, but he held his tongue. Without the explicit backing of Konoha’s leadership, he didn’t dare openly confront a ninja.

With a huff, he followed Shikaku, his dissatisfaction evident in the way he carried himself.

The next day, the Daimyo presented a national decree he had written, declaring his authority and rallying the other nations against the rebellion.

Sitting in the Hokage’s office, the Daimyo wiped sweat from his brow as he proudly handed the document to the Third Hokage, who hovered nearby in his spectral form.

"This decree will demonstrate the seriousness of the situation," the Daimyo declared smugly.

"Once the other great nations see it, they’ll unite under my banner to crush the so-called ‘Shin-Konoha.’"

"With their support, we’ll annihilate these rebels in no time."

The Third Hokage’s eyes gleamed with approval as he reached for the letter.

"Excellent! With this, we can claim the moral high ground and expose Uzumaki Chito’s shamelessness to the entire ninja world," he said, his voice brimming with self-satisfaction.

"When the whole world turns against him, Uzumaki Chito won’t stand a chance. And Konoha will be hailed as heroes for leading the charge."

The Third Hokage glanced at the gathered shinobi, his expression smug as he added, "All thanks to the Daimyo’s generosity—and my wisdom, of course."

But just as his hand touched the decree, the Daimyo abruptly snatched it back, holding it out of reach.

The Third Hokage froze, his confident smile faltering.

"Daimyo-sama," he said, his tone laced with confusion, "what are you doing?"

Chapter 123

The Daimyo of the Land of Fire grinned, his bloated face twisting into a mask of smug hypocrisy.

"Sandaime," he sneered, "you’ve gone from a human to a ghost, and yet you still don’t understand proper decorum."

The Third Hokage blinked, momentarily stunned by the insult. Subconsciously, he asked, "Don’t understand decorum?"

The Daimyo’s grin widened, his tone dripping with mockery. "Exactly! Decorum."

He leaned back, waving the national letter teasingly in the air.

"My decree has always been something Konoha couldn’t do without. And if I just hand it over to you so easily, tell me, what will I do afterward?"

"You’ve got to give me proper compensation for this!"

The gathered ninjas were momentarily struck speechless by the Daimyo’s shameless audacity.

Here was a man who had been ousted from power, saved only by Konoha’s intervention, yet he acted as though they were the ones begging for his help.

Many clenched their fists in silent frustration. If not for the presence of the Third Hokage, this pompous fat pig would’ve been given a swift and painful lesson.

But the Third Hokage’s perspective was entirely different.

To him, the Daimyo represented Konoha’s only viable chance of rallying the ninja world against Shin-Konoha. The prestige and plight of the Daimyo of the Land of Fire could be used to unite the great nations in a collective effort to crush Uzumaki Chito.

Even a self-proclaimed "god" like Uzumaki Chito couldn’t withstand the might of the united ninja world, he thought.

And with victory, the Third Hokage would solidify his place in history as Konoha’s savior—a legacy etched onto the monuments for all time.

More importantly, having been resurrected in his current immortal form, the Third Hokage envisioned himself ruling Konoha indefinitely, far beyond the natural span of human life.

But for now, his power was precarious, resting entirely on his reputation and his connection to Jiraiya as the current Hokage.

So, after a moment of thought, the Third Hokage forced a humble smile and asked, "What kind of compensation are you asking for, Daimyo-sama?"

The Daimyo’s face lit up with delight, his smugness reaching new heights.

Truthfully, he had been testing his boundaries, uncertain of how far he could push. He understood the precariousness of his position—alone in a village of trained killers, his life hung by a thread. A single word from the Hokage, and he could be silenced forever.

But now, the Third Hokage’s willingness to entertain his demands emboldened him.

"Ah, Sandaime, you truly are an understanding Hokage!" he exclaimed, laughing heartily.

"I don’t want much—just a luxury villa befitting my status, a modest number of maids, and some appropriate comforts. After all, if dignitaries from the Land of Thunder or the Land of Wind see me living in squalor, it might undermine my credibility as Daimyo."

The Daimyo’s reasoning, while self-serving, was cleverly framed to appeal to Konoha’s interests.

Several of the gathered ninjas, though initially furious, begrudgingly found themselves nodding along. He does have a point—his appearance needs to reflect his authority.

But then, the Daimyo took it a step too far.

"Also," he added, his tone turning lecherous as he eyed Kurenai Yuhi, "it would be wise to appoint a liaison for better communication. Perhaps... this lovely female ninja with red eyes?"

The room fell into a tense silence.

Kurenai’s crimson eyes narrowed dangerously. With a flick of her hand, she nearly unleashed a devastating genjutsu technique to teach the Daimyo a humiliating lesson.

Beside her, Asuma Sarutobi’s hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his chakra-infused trench knives. His expression darkened, his fury barely restrained.

If this arrogant pig doesn’t shut his mouth...

But despite their seething anger, neither acted rashly. Both knew the political ramifications of attacking the Daimyo, especially under the watchful gaze of the Third Hokage.

Surely, they thought, the Third Hokage would step in and reject such an inappropriate demand.

However, what happened next stunned everyone.

The Third Hokage’s translucent face grew pensive, and a thoughtful glint appeared in his eyes.

"Old man... what are you thinking?!"

Asuma’s voice rang out, raw with disbelief and rage. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing—the faint trace of consideration in his father’s expression.

This can’t be real. My own father, the man who raised me, is actually thinking of sacrificing Kurenai to appease this gluttonous fool?

His anger boiled over, and he shouted, "Father, are you seriously considering this?!"

The Third Hokage’s expression hardened, his voice cold as he snapped, "Asuma! How dare you behave so disrespectfully in front of the Daimyo!"

"Apologize to him immediately!"

Asuma froze, his breath catching in his throat.

This wasn’t just about the Daimyo. This was about his father—his mentor, the man he had looked up to his entire life.

And now, that man stood before him, demanding that he bow and scrape to protect the whims of a corrupt aristocrat.

Asuma’s knuckles turned white as his grip on his trench knives tightened.

"No," he said quietly, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "I won’t."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade.

The Third Hokage’s eyes narrowed, his ethereal form radiating cold fury.

"Asuma," he said slowly, his tone deadly, "do not defy me."

Chapter 124

Asuma heard the Third Hokage’s command to obey and smiled bitterly.

"Is there nothing you wouldn’t demand, Father?" he muttered.

For much of his life, the Third Hokage had been a looming figure—a hurdle Asuma could never quite overcome.

As a child, he admired and revered his father. As a teenager, he rebelled against his ideals. Later, during his time with the Twelve Guardian, he began to understand and even respect his father’s philosophy.

Through it all, one thing remained constant: a deep familial bond that tethered Asuma’s heart to his father’s, no matter the disagreements.

But now, that bond was shattered. Torn apart by his father’s own actions and callous disregard, it lay in ruins at his feet.

Dragging Kurenai by the hand, Asuma turned his back on the Hokage’s office and walked away. His steps were heavy but resolute, each one severing the ties that had once bound him.

The Third Hokage’s translucent form trembled with a mix of shock and rage.

"It’s rebellion!" he bellowed. "Rebellion!"

His voice echoed through the Hokage’s office.

"As a ninja, have you forgotten the value of obedience?" he demanded.

To the Third Hokage, Konoha’s ninjas were instruments of sacrifice. They lived and died at his command, and their willingness to do so was what made them noble.

For him, even the act of giving one’s life in the name of duty carried a certain beauty—a word he called sacrifice.

And now, his son wasn’t being asked to die. All he’d asked was for Asuma’s woman to accompany the Daimyo, a small price for the sake of Konoha.

But Asuma dared to defy him. He dared to storm out of the Hokage Building, leaving his father humiliated.

The Third Hokage’s spectral form began to flicker violently, rippling like disturbed water.

His voice rose in fury as he pointed a trembling hand in the direction Asuma had disappeared.

"Someone, bring Asuma and Kurenai back to me!" he roared. "Even the son of the Hokage is not above the rules of our village!"

But the ninjas in the room stood frozen, unmoving.

Their silence only fueled the Third Hokage’s anger.

He glared at them, his spectral eyes blazing.

"Did you not hear me? I said, bring Asuma and Kurenai—"

"Enough, old man," Jiraiya interrupted, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

The room turned toward him, and for the first time, Jiraiya’s tone carried none of its usual warmth or playfulness.

"Shut your mouth," he said bluntly, "before someone decides to toss your stone into a pit where it belongs."

The room fell into stunned silence.

Jiraiya’s expression was weary, his voice tinged with melancholy. "We’re ninjas, not lapdogs for the Daimyo," he continued.

He gestured toward the gathered shinobi.

"Everyone here has better things to do. If the Daimyo wants to help, fine—arrange for someone to take his letter to the other nations. If he doesn’t, then so be it."

"But personnel? Maids? Villas?" Jiraiya scoffed. "We’re not here to cater to his whims."

The gathered ninjas, visibly relieved, began moving to follow Jiraiya’s instructions.

The Third Hokage, watching the scene unfold, felt a rising tide of panic.

"Jiraiya!" he cried, his voice trembling with desperation.

"You ungrateful fool! Have you forgotten everything I taught you? I raised you from a worthless student into one of the world-famous Sannin!"

His voice cracked with indignation.

"How dare you treat me like this! Do you have no loyalty? No conscience?"

Jiraiya closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to block out the barrage of accusations.

When he opened them again, they were filled with quiet resolve.

"Sensei," he said softly, "this is the last time I will call you that."

He raised a fist and brought it down with all his strength.

RUMBLE!

The floor of the Hokage’s office exploded into a massive crater, shards of wood and stone scattering like shrapnel.

The gathered ninjas instinctively ducked for cover.

The Third Hokage’s spectral form flickered wildly, his translucent face contorting with panic.

"What—what are you doing?" he stammered.

For the first time, the man who had been hailed as the God of Shinobi looked truly terrified.

In that moment, the reality of his powerlessness hit him like a crushing wave. He was no longer the indomitable Hokage—just a fragile soul bound to a stone.

Jiraiya stared at him, his face etched with sadness and disappointment.

"Hiruzen, you should’ve stayed dead," he said softly.

His voice carried no malice, only a deep sorrow.

"The Uzumaki’s resurrection wasn’t a gift. It was a curse. And all it’s done is tarnish your legacy. You should’ve remained the kind and brave man we all admired, the Hokage who sacrificed everything for Konoha. But now... you’re just a bitter ghost."

The Third Hokage didn’t hear the wisdom in Jiraiya’s words. His mind fixated on one word—dead.

The idea of death clawed at his fragile psyche, his greed for survival overwhelming all else.

Chapter 125

"You... you can't kill me!"

The Third Hokage’s trembling voice echoed through the room.

Jiraiya froze at the words, momentarily stunned by their absurdity.

"Is that really what you think of me, Hiruzen?" Jiraiya asked bitterly, his voice laden with sorrow. His throat tightened, and his vision blurred as unshed tears stung his eyes. He clenched his fists, his entire body trembling with the weight of his emotions.

Unable to bear the accusation, he closed his eyes, willing the pain to subside.

The Third Hokage, realizing the gravity of his words, scrambled to correct himself. "No, Jiraiya, I didn’t mean it like that—"

But Jiraiya cut him off, unwilling to hear more.

At that moment, the Third Hokage’s time outside the black stone ran out. His translucent form was drawn back into the cursed object with a faint, ghostly wail.

Jiraiya opened his eyes, his expression hardened. He summoned an ANBU operative with a quick hand signal.

"Take this stone," he said coldly, gesturing to the black object imprisoning the Third Hokage’s soul, "and place it in the stone tower on Hokage Rock. Assign someone to guard it."

He paused, his gaze distant. "If he asks for anything, accommodate him within reason... but ensure I never have to see him again."

The ANBU operative nodded silently, retrieved the black stone, and vanished.

The room fell silent, but the stillness was soon shattered by a slow, mocking clap.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Jiraiya’s head snapped toward the sound, his senses sharpening.

A young man in a moon-white kimono lounged lazily on the Hokage’s chair, his posture exuding confidence. The source of the applause was his gloved hands.

Jiraiya’s pupils contracted, and an involuntary shiver ran down his spine. His teeth clenched as he forced the name out:

"Uzumaki... Chito."

The man in white stood leisurely, his movements unhurried and deliberate. He flashed a faint smile, almost disarmingly casual.

"Relax, Jiraiya," Uzumaki Chito said. "I’m not here to kill anyone. Though I could destroy all of Konoha with a single breath, I’m not a madman. I don’t kill without reason."

He gestured dismissively. "Besides, you and your teacher just gave me a rather entertaining show. For that, I’ll spare you."

Jiraiya exhaled sharply, his tense body relaxing slightly. He knew enough about Uzumaki Chito to trust his word—when this man made a promise, he kept it.

But the relief was short-lived. A surge of anger welled up in Jiraiya’s chest, and he couldn’t hold back.

"So, that’s what we are to you? Puppets on a stage for your amusement?" he snapped. "You sit there, watching us struggle, reveling in our powerlessness. Does it make you feel superior?"

Chito’s gaze didn’t waver. He let Jiraiya’s words hang in the air, his expression calm and unreadable.

When Jiraiya finally fell silent, Chito spoke, his voice measured and cold.

"Why am I doing this?" Chito repeated, almost to himself. "That’s a good question."

His eyes darkened, his tone turning sharp.

"Sinners," he said. "That’s what you are. What Konoha is."

His voice rose, filled with an icy conviction. "And you, Jiraiya, and your beloved teacher, Sarutobi Hiruzen—you are among the worst of them."

Jiraiya’s brows furrowed in confusion, but his anger didn’t abate.

"Sinners? Based on what, Chito?" he demanded. "If it’s killing, then you’ve killed more people than anyone alive. You lived through the Warring States era, for Kami’s sake. You’ve spilled enough blood to drown nations."

Chito raised an eyebrow, his expression almost amused.

"Yes, I’ve killed countless people," he admitted. "But they were my enemies. I killed them openly, with purpose."

He leaned forward, his gaze piercing.

"But you... and your teacher... killed your own. Your villagers, your disciples. The very people you were sworn to protect."

Jiraiya flinched, memories flashing through his mind. Familiar faces—some smiling, others bloodied and lifeless—haunted him.

"You’re talking about Minato and Kushina," Jiraiya said quietly, his voice heavy with guilt. "This is revenge for them, isn’t it?"

"If that’s what this is about, I won’t argue. I failed them. We all did. But you have the power to bring them back, don’t you? If you’re so determined to avenge them, why haven’t you used your resurrection abilities to restore them?"

Chito’s expression remained impassive, but his tone was unyielding.

"My resurrection isn’t perfect," he replied. "It requires specific conditions."

He straightened, his eyes narrowing. "But whether I can bring them back or not isn’t the point. Their deaths don’t absolve you of your sins. You think that as long as someone else can fix your mistakes, you’re off the hook?"

Jiraiya’s heart sank. The cold logic in Chito’s words was impossible to refute.

A shiver ran down his spine as he asked, "Then what do you want, Chito? What will it take for you to stop?"

Chito’s lips curled into a faint smile, but his eyes remained cold.

"I want nothing," he said softly. "This isn’t about me. It’s about giving those who’ve been wronged the chance to put an end to it."

He turned to leave, his voice echoing behind him.

"When I stop... depends on him—and what all of you choose to do."