The operative known only as Taka crouched motionless in the upper branches of an ancient oak, his chakra signature suppressed to near nothingness.
His ROOT-issued mask—blank white with a single horizontal red streak—concealed his face as he observed the training ground below.
For six consecutive days, he had maintained surveillance on the target. Six days of watching what should have been impossible.
Jiraiya of the Sannin moved with fluid precision through a series of hand signs: Dog, Boar, Snake.
Wind chakra gathered around him, condensing into razor-sharp crescents that sliced through three training posts simultaneously.
The Wind Release: Vacuum Blade—a technique that typically required months to master—executed flawlessly after just two days of practice.
Astonishing, Taka thought, recording the observation in his mental report. He's acquired four wind-nature techniques in less than a week.
Below, the white-haired Sannin paused, wiping sweat from his brow before summoning six shadow clones.
Each clone began practicing a different wind technique—Vacuum Sphere, Wind Cutter, Great Breakthrough, Beast Wave Palm, Wind Scythe, and one Taka didn't recognize.
This level of multitasking was unprecedented.
Even for a shinobi of Jiraiya's caliber, the chakra control required was extraordinary.
A slight frown formed beneath Taka's mask.
Something fundamental had changed about the Sannin.
Taka had been an ANBU operative before joining ROOT, and he'd observed many S-rank shinobi during his career.
None of them trained like this.
Typically, shinobi of that level focused on refining existing techniques rather than frantically acquiring new ones.
Yet here was one of the Legendary Sannin drilling basic chakra exercises between advanced techniques—as if relearning his own body.
Most peculiar was the physical transformation.
According to ROOT's records, Jiraiya had maintained roughly the same physique for the past fifteen years.
But recent observations showed measurable changes—increased height, broader shoulders, denser muscle mass.
One of Jiraiya's clones suddenly dispelled, and the original Sannin stumbled slightly, as if absorbing new information.
He made a quick adjustment to his stance and performed the same wind technique again—this time with visible improvement.
Accelerated learning through shadow clone feedback, Taka noted.
But even accounting for that method, his rate of improvement defies explanation.
In the six days since Jiraiya's return to Konoha, Taka had documented mastery of twelve techniques:
Four wind-nature jutsu (none previously in his known arsenal)
Three enhanced earth techniques
Two medical ninjutsu (rudimentary, but functional)
Three seal modifications to existing techniques
What drove such urgency?
The Sannin trained with the desperate intensity of a genin preparing for the Chunin exams, not a legendary shinobi secure in his abilities.
The white-haired man below began a new sequence of hand signs—Bird, Boar, Dragon, Hare—his movements crisp and deliberate.
Chakra gathered at his fingertips, crackling with untamed energy.
A technique still in development, then.
A breeze whispered through the leaves around Taka.
He remained perfectly still, but something changed in the atmosphere below.
Jiraiya had stopped all practice and was looking directly toward Taka's position, his expression unreadable.
For three heartbeats, Taka remained motionless, certain his concealment jutsu was flawless.
Then Jiraiya smiled—a knowing, almost sad smile—before turning away and resuming his training as if nothing had happened.
Impossible, Taka thought. He shouldn't be able to detect me at this distance.
It was time to report back.
.
.
.
One week earlier.
The administrative wing of the Hokage Tower bustled with the usual afternoon activity.
Mission reports were being filed, assignments distributed, and intelligence briefings scheduled.
Amidst this routine chaos, a jonin secretary burst through Tsunade's office door, face flushed with excitement.
"Jiraiya-sama has returned to the village!" she announced to anyone within earshot.
The news spread quickly through the tower's corridors, eventually reaching a nondescript clerk sorting papers in the archives.
The clerk finished his task methodically before excusing himself for a short break.
Once outside, the "clerk" made his way through three predetermined routes to ensure he wasn't followed, before descending into an unmarked underground passage beneath an abandoned district.
Deep below Konoha's streets, Shimura Danzo sat in near-darkness, only a single lamp illuminating the scroll before him.
He didn't look up when the ROOT agent materialized from the shadows and knelt before him.
"Report," Danzo commanded, his voice as dry as parchment.
"Jiraiya of the Sannin has returned to Konoha," the agent stated. "He arrived alone. The Nine-Tails jinchuriki remains absent."
Danzo's single visible eye narrowed slightly—the only indication that the news disturbed him.
"Alone?" he repeated, finally looking up from his scroll. "Where is the boy?"
"Unknown, Lord Danzo. Our intelligence suggests the jinchuriki may be at Mount Myoboku."
Danzo's fingers tightened imperceptibly on his cane.
The Toad Sage bringing Naruto to Konoha had been anticipated—allowing ROOT to monitor the Nine-Tails vessel directly.
Leaving him at Mount Myoboku placed the boy beyond Danzo's surveillance network.
"Jiraiya makes yet another foolish decision," Danzo muttered, his thoughts turning inward.
"Chasing prophecies while leaving our greatest weapon unguarded."
The irony wasn't lost on him.
For all his talk of protecting Konoha, Jiraiya had removed its jinchuriki from the village's protection.
Such recklessness confirmed what Danzo had always believed—idealists like Jiraiya and Hiruzen were unfit to safeguard the village's true interests.
"And his purpose in returning?" Danzo asked.
"Initially unclear, Lord Danzo. He met with the Hokage, then made a substantial withdrawal from the Konoha Bank. Five million ryo."
That detail caught Danzo's attention.
Such a sum suggested preparation for something significant—perhaps funding for his spy network, or worse, some foolhardy mission based on whatever "prophecy" had captured his imagination this time.
"He has also engaged Sarutobi Asuma for training in wind-nature techniques," the agent continued.
"His behavior appears... unusual."
"Unusual how?"
"He trains with urgency and focus uncharacteristic of his normal patterns."
Danzo considered this information carefully.
Jiraiya training seriously, without the boy, withdrawing significant funds...
The pattern suggested preparation for something specific.
"Full surveillance. Priority one," Danzo ordered simply, his visible eye narrowing slightly to emphasize the importance.
The agent bowed lower. "It shall be done, Lord Danzo."
"And locate the jinchuriki."
As the agent vanished into the shadows, Danzo turned his attention back to the scroll before him—ancient text describing the founding of Konoha.
Jiraiya had always been a problem—too independent, too loyal to Hiruzen's weak ideals.
But something had changed.
Danzo could sense it, like the stillness before a storm.
Whatever game Jiraiya was playing, Danzo would not be outmaneuvered.
The future of Konoha depended on it.