Chapter 138: The Child of Prophecy
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Shisui exhaled slowly, the weight of his office apparent in the momentary silence that followed. "Try to find him. If the intel is correct, and Madara's puppet is with this Zetsu, then we have trouble."
Nodding, Jiraiya tucked the scroll away, his mind already racing with plans and possibilities. "About the two?" he inquired, a subtle shift in his stance indicating the gravity of his next question.
Shisui paused, his gaze fixed on some distant point as he considered his response. After a moment, his fingers tapped against the table, a rhythmic sound that filled the quiet room. "Let them be for the time being, but look into the Cursed Seal. One of my most trusted men was branded by it. I don't want it to be any problem," he finally said, his tone firm.
Acknowledging the order with a nod, Jiraiya turned back towards the window, the same way he had entered. As he slipped into the night, his silhouette merged with the shadows, disappearing from view with the agility and silence that had made him a legend.
As he was dashing to sit at the bar and quench his emotions with sake, Jiraiya's keen hearing caught the sound of combat from afar. Frowning, he decided to investigate, concerned it might be a threat to the village he cherished. Arriving at the scene, he discovered an Uchiha boy engaged in rigorous training. The boy's determination was palpable, even from a distance. With two tomoe swirling in his Sharingan, his black hair slightly damp with sweat, the 13-year-old Uchiha practiced his moves with a focus that was rare for someone his age.
Jiraiya watched from the shadows, his initial curiosity turning into interest. The boy executed a series of complex taijutsu combinations, each move flowing seamlessly into the next. It was clear he wasn't just any Uchiha; the intensity of his gaze, the precision of his movements, all spoke of a deep-seated resolve.
"Huh, look at that," Jiraiya muttered to himself, impressed despite his best efforts to remain detached. "Kid's got fire in him."
The training session continued, the young Uchiha pushing himself harder with each passing moment. His footwork was sharp, his strikes powerful yet controlled. Despite his apparent youth, there was an air of maturity about him, a sense of purpose that belied his age.
But suddenly, the Sannin's brow furrowed, noting a shift in the boy's demeanor. His attacks, once precise and calculated, now bore the mark of desperation and recklessness. It was evident to Jiraiya that the boy's emotions, particularly anger, were clouding his judgment. "Why?" The boy's voice, laden with frustration, echoed through the clearing. "Why can't I catch up to him? No matter how hard I work, no matter how hard I try, I'm always left behind." His shouts seemed to challenge the heavens themselves.
'Envy,' Jiraiya recognized silently. It was a feeling he knew all too well, an emotion that had once gnawed at his own heart. Orochimaru, with his refined talent and status as a favorite, had been the object of Jiraiya's envy. He had despised feeling clumsy, coarse, and devoid of the natural genius that seemed to grace his teammate. Now, witnessing this young Uchiha's turmoil, he couldn't help but see a reflection of his younger self in the boy's struggle.
As Jiraiya stepped from the shadows, his gaze lingered on the boy, recognizing him with a glance. "Driven by the same flames that once consumed me," Jiraiya mused quietly, understanding the depth of Uchiha's envy and the pain it wrought.
The Uchiha boy, unaware of Jiraiya's presence, continued his tirade against the invisible foe in his mind. His fists clenched tightly, each punch thrown with more force, yet with less aim and precision than before. "I won't be left in the dust!" he declared, his voice breaking with the intensity of his vow. Yet, for all his determination, the futility of his efforts was palpable in the air, a bitter reminder of the gap he sought to close.
Jiraiya watched, a silent observer to the young Uchiha's torment. He contemplated intervening, offering words of wisdom or solace, but hesitated. 'Would my words be a balm or merely salt in his wounds?' he wondered, conflicted. Instead, he chose to watch a moment longer, seeking to understand the root of the boy's despair.
The night grew darker around them, the only light coming from the moon that hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the training ground. Uchiha's shouts had dwindled to panting breaths, his body trembling with exertion and unspent rage. "Dammit!" he cursed under his breath, the word a whisper against the harshness of his previous declarations.
Jiraiya finally made his presence known, stepping into the light. "Anger and envy," he began, his voice steady, "are poor masters. They blind and bind you, leaving you trapped in a cycle of your own making." His words, though spoken softly, carried the weight of experience, of lessons learned through years of hardship and reflection.
The boy whirled around, startled by the sudden intrusion. His Sharingan flared, a reflexive defense against the unexpected. But upon recognizing Jiraiya, his stance softened, if only marginally. "What would you know about it?" he spat, the defiance in his voice masking the underlying plea for understanding.
"I've walked the path you're on," Jiraiya admitted, locking eyes with Uchiha. "I've felt the sting of envy, the burn of anger. It led me nowhere but further from my goals." He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "But I learned that strength doesn't come from surpassing others. It comes from surpassing yourself."
The boy's gaze faltered, dropping to the ground as he considered Jiraiya's words. The notion of self-improvement, of focusing inward rather than outward, was foreign to him. His whole life had been a quest to best another, to prove himself superior. The idea of a different path, one not dictated by comparison but by personal growth, was both intriguing and daunting.
Jiraiya watched the young Uchiha, noting the subtle shift in his demeanor. "There's more to strength than power," he continued. "There's resilience, determination, and the ability to stand up even when the world pushes you down. Don't let envy cloud your judgment or anger dictate your actions."
The Uchiha remained silent, his mind wrestling with Jiraiya's words. The concept of overcoming himself rather than others was a challenging notion, but one that resonated within him. Perhaps, in this new perspective, he could find the key to unlocking the strength he so desperately sought.
As Jiraiya turned to leave, the boy called out, "Wait." The word hung in the air, a bridge between them. "How do I start? How do I surpass myself?"
Jiraiya paused, considering the question. "By recognizing your weaknesses and facing them head-on," he answered. "By setting goals that push your limits and striving to achieve them. And most importantly, by understanding that the journey is never over. There will always be more to learn, more to achieve."
As he was about to part, Jiraiya's footsteps halted, a thought seizing him with unexpected clarity. In the defiant gaze of the young Uchiha, he saw a spark, a potential that resonated with his own past convictions. The Uchiha Clan, with its storied history of honor and just warriors, had always commanded Jiraiya's respect. He admired Shisui and his vision for the future, a vision that seemed to align with the prophecies that had guided Jiraiya's actions for so long. He had once believed Minato to be the Child of Prophecy, the one destined to bring balance and change. But fate had other plans, and Minato's path had led to darkness and betrayal.
Turning back, Jiraiya faced the Uchiha, his decision made. The boy's eyes met his, a mixture of defiance and curiosity within their depths. Jiraiya had always believed in the importance of mentorship, of guiding the next generation towards a future where they could thrive. And now, with Minato gone, perhaps it was time to bestow his knowledge on another, to find a new purpose in the potential of this young Uchiha.
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