On the road a few kilometers from Konoha Village, a tall, white-haired man and a blond boy of seven or eight walked along, bickering as they went.
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"Perverted Sage, are you really the Fourth Hokage's teacher?!"
"Kid, how many times have I told you? Don't go doubting adults for no reason!"
A few whisker-like marks lined the blond boy's face. His bright blue eyes were full of confusion.
"But no matter how I look at you, you don't seem like any big shot... You aren't even wearing a forehead protector!"
"You really don't know how high the sky is, kid..."
Jiraiya lifted his head. The oil-lettered forehead protector on his brow gleamed in the sunlight, and he looked thoroughly pleased with himself.
"Let me tell you the truth, kid! A shinobi like me, who doesn't even wear a forehead protector, is showing just how powerful he is!"
"Because just by looking at us, experienced shinobi from other villages can recognize who we are. We don't need a forehead protector to prove it!"
Of course, that was one of the privileges of being a Kage-level Ninja. It was like how the stronger a shinobi was, the more casual and loose their attire tended to be.
Jiraiya and Tsunade, for example, had spent so long away from Konoha Village, wandering the Shinobi World, that they had stopped wearing their forehead protectors for convenience.
Watching Uzumaki Naruto keep muttering, apparently unconvinced even as delight showed on his face, Jiraiya finished speaking and felt a little dazed.
If he had taken Nagato and the others with him back then and kept them by his side to teach them, might the Akatsuki Organization never have emerged?
Jiraiya didn't know the answer, but what had happened with Nagato had left him afraid.
He