Jiraiya's Resolve

The rain kept falling.

The Land of Rain, outside Amegakure.

A gray, shrouded country where cold rain fell from the sky all year long.

On the muddy Imperial Road, a figure walked slowly through the curtain of rain.

His white hair was pinned back with a long needle. Red streaks ran down both cheeks, and he wore a straw raincoat and hat.

Jiraiya the Toad Sage, one of the Konoha Sannin.

He walked slowly.

Each step sank into the mud with a soft squelch.

Raindrops tapped against his hat. Tap, tap, tap.

The sound weighed on his chest.

Ahead, at the edge of the rain, a dark city emerged where sky met earth.

At its center, an Iron Tower rose high above the rooftops.

Amegakure.

Akatsuki's lair.

And the place where Old Man had died in battle.

Tap.

A drop of rain slid off the brim of his hat and struck the back of his hand.

Jiraiya stood in the rain, gazing at Amegakure, and suddenly remembered the day of the funeral.

Hokage Rock Square had been a sea of white, filled with thunderous cries.

Some had knelt before the coffin and wept. Some had called him a hero for volunteering. Others had publicly demanded to know why the New Hokage hadn't dared send anyone to recover the body.

The noise had been deafening.

But when the young Hokage calmly said, "Anyone who wants to go, step forward," the crowd fell silent.

Not one of the hundreds who had just been shouting about loyalty and duty dared raise their head.

Only he had stepped out of the crowd.

"I was his student."

"Old Man's body can't be left in a foreign land."

As he spoke, he could feel every gaze on his back.

Gratitude, respect, even spiteful anticipation.

He