Konoha’s Five-Element Ninja

Chapter 39: The Conspiracy Behind the Goldfish

The cheerful girl carrying her goldfish, happily wandering the streets, didn't realize she was being followed by two people. After buying various snacks, she returned to her lodging.

Hayama and Minato blended into the crowd as if they were mere passersby, following at a distance. When they saw her enter a house, they kept walking nonchalantly, passing by without stopping.

As night deepened, the once-bustling night market gradually quieted. While most people were deep in their dreams, a shadow darted down the street. The well-trained patrols didn't notice a thing and continued along their set routes, occasionally grumbling among themselves.

Hidden in the shadows, Hayama perked up. Finally, he thought. The mosquitoes had bitten him more than a few times during the wait.

Keeping his distance, he followed the shadow silently, watching as it demonstrated advanced stealth techniques.

The pursuit led from the southern to the eastern part of the city before the figure finally stopped outside a stately mansion. The shadow deftly scaled the walls and disappeared from Hayama's sight.

After a moment of consideration, Hayama decided not to infiltrate right away. Instead, he waited the length of a leisurely meal before submerging himself underground and sneaking closer.

Better to play it safe, he thought. If the other person was a sensory ninja, they would likely scan the area as soon as they arrived. Getting detected now would ruin everything.

Using the Earth Style: Hiding Like a Mole Technique—one of his specialties—Hayama moved silently beneath the surface. While it lacked offensive power, the jutsu allowed him to move undetected through the ground, closing in on targets without a sound. He could unleash a deadly strike at the perfect moment, or use it to escape or infiltrate.

Inside a concealed room within the mansion, two individuals were deep in conversation, unaware of the ninja listening beneath their feet.

After some time, the conversation ended, and Hayama quietly returned to his lodgings.

The faint smell of alcohol lingered as Jiraiya sat upright in a chair, sipping tea and listening carefully to Hayama's report.

When Hayama finished, Jiraiya slammed his teacup down and stood abruptly, his gaze sharp and filled with killing intent.

It wasn't like Jiraiya to lose composure, but the information Hayama overheard was shocking: the Daimyo of the Fire Country had been selling grain to the Hidden Rock Village at a low price.

In wartime, it was considered treasonous for a national leader to sell—or even give away—grain to an enemy nation. However, as the de facto ruler of the Fire Country, the Daimyo had the authority to sell to whomever he pleased. The ninja, technically, had no say in the matter.

This brought up a fundamental question: Were Konoha's ninja loyal to the Fire Country, or were they solely loyal to their village? On the surface, it might seem like a distinction without a difference, but in reality, it was a world apart.

According to the system established by the First Hokage, ninja villages were subordinate to their respective Daimyo. By that logic, Konoha's ninja should follow the Daimyo's orders. But the Will of Fire—a core tenet of Konoha's philosophy—taught that Konoha's ninja served their village first and foremost. This contradiction had caused constant friction over the years.

Take the Daimyo's grain trade, for example. While Hayama thought it unseemly, it wasn't enough to cross a line for him. Underhanded deals between nations were all too common, and it was unrealistic to judge these relationships by moral standards alone. National interest was the guiding principle.

Jiraiya, however, viewed the Daimyo's actions as a complete betrayal of Konoha. To him, the Daimyo's decision undermined the system set by the First Hokage, and it was unacceptable. To Jiraiya, this wasn't just about grain—it was about protecting the village's honor and stability. That was his duty as a ninja of Konoha. But for Hayama, as long as it didn't directly harm him, there was no need to retaliate. After all, the Fire Country belonged to the Daimyo, and selling grain was his prerogative.

In Hayama's view, the Will of Fire was worth no more than a pile of dog crap. The Daimyo's grain trade, while questionable, paled in comparison to the damage caused by the Third Hokage's suppression of certain clans. The marginal loss from surplus grain was nothing compared to the consequences of pushing the Senju Clan into obscurity.

But human nature is complex. People often excuse their own faults while harshly condemning others for even minor mistakes. The hypocrisy—expecting forgiveness for oneself but showing no mercy to others—was deeply off-putting.

Jiraiya managed to calm himself and refrained from storming into the Daimyo's palace. Instead, he penned a letter and had it delivered immediately to Hiruzen Sarutobi.

Even in the dead of night, the diligent Third Hokage had not yet retired. In no time, Jiraiya received a brief reply. After reading it, he handed it to Minato, who passed it around for everyone to see before returning it to Jiraiya. With an impassive expression, Jiraiya snapped his fingers. A small flame appeared, consuming the letter.

Hayama's eyes narrowed. This seemingly casual act revealed a skill he hadn't expected from Jiraiya—producing fire without forming seals. Normally, without the guidance of hand signs, chakra was just raw energy with no elemental properties. This demonstrated a level of mastery that suggested Jiraiya, often underestimated, might be a hidden powerhouse among the legendary Sannin.

The Third Hokage's message was concise and chilling: "Understood. Proceed as planned."

The top priority was still to safely escort the Daimyo to the border. Hayama had expected this response. Sacrificing the bigger mission for a moment of outrage would be shortsighted. Once the peace treaty was signed, there would be plenty of time for retribution.

For the next few days, the group continued their routine of eating and drinking, preparing for the journey ahead. Finally, one morning, a summons came for Jiraiya to meet the Daimyo. While he was away, the others stayed behind, finalizing their preparations.

It wasn't until late afternoon that Jiraiya returned, his hearty laughter echoing outside before fading into a more subdued demeanor as he entered the room. He appeared displeased, prompting a concerned Minato to approach him.

"Jiraiya-sensei, what's our plan for returning to the camp?" Minato asked.

Jiraiya's expression softened slightly at his student's respectful inquiry. "I suggested splitting into two groups for the journey, but the Daimyo rejected that idea. He insists on traveling in full ceremonial style."

"Should we request reinforcements from Lord Hokage?" Minato suggested.

Shaking his head slowly, Jiraiya replied, "There's no time. We leave tomorrow."

Hayama frowned. The journey from the capital to the border, traveling at the pace of a civilian caravan, would take at least two weeks. This would only increase the risk of attack, and he couldn't help feeling a headache coming on. His hand instinctively went to rub his temple, only to find the bare, smooth skin of his brow. The scars from his previous encounter with the Sand ninja hadn't yet healed, and the memory of them soured his mood further.

The Daimyo's insistence wasn't entirely unreasonable. Nobles were expected to maintain their dignity, and sneaking away like common thieves would be a breach of protocol. Concerns about safety weren't the Daimyo's responsibility—those fell squarely on the ninja's shoulders.

Hayama wasn't surprised by the decision. The Daimyo's status and position demanded that he travel in a manner befitting his rank, even if it meant riding in an elaborate palanquin all the way to the border.

With that in mind, Hayama spoke up. "Jiraiya-sama, would it be possible to have the ANBU carry the Daimyo's palanquin to the border?"

Jiraiya paused, his eyes narrowing as he considered the suggestion. "The Daimyo might not approve of speeding up the journey. How would you handle that?"

Hayama gave a faint smile, revealing his plan. "A staged attack."

Catching on instantly, Jiraiya's eyes lit up.

The plan was simple: have the ANBU carry the palanquin. Once they were out of the capital's vicinity, they could stage a fake enemy attack. The perceived threat would serve as justification for increasing their pace, minimizing the chance of a real ambush.

In this way, they could respect the Daimyo's need for dignity while ensuring the group's safety and efficiency.

Jiraiya nodded in approval. "A solid plan. Once the mission is over, I'll make sure you're credited for it."

Hayama showed a modest hint of delight, bowing slightly. "Thank you, Jiraiya-sama."

Satisfied, Jiraiya left to contact the ANBU.