It all felt like a distant, hazy dream.
As Jiraiya's consciousness struggled up out of boundless darkness and cold, he once again felt the weight of his body and the softness of the bed. Slowly, with some effort, he opened his eyes.
The glaring white light made him instinctively squint. Only after a moment of adjustment could he make out his surroundings.
A clean, tidy room filled with the faint smell of disinfectant.
White walls, a white ceiling, and... the white blanket covering him.
He tried moving his body. A wave of weakness washed over him, but what surprised him even more was-
His left hand, the one he had lost in his fierce battle against the Six Paths of Pain, was now attached to his left arm, completely intact. Aside from a layer of bandages, there was nothing unusual about it.
"This..."
Jiraiya abruptly pushed himself upright with his right hand and raised his left in disbelief, examining it again and again, clenching his fist, then opening it.
The genuine sensation told him this was no illusion. His left hand really was back!
Ecstasy, confusion, bewilderment... all those emotions tangled together, leaving Jiraiya at a loss.
Just then, he caught sight of something beside the bed out of the corner of his eye.
A figure with brilliant, long golden hair was asleep, slumped over the bedside.
Her face was turned to one side, resting on her arms. Her long lashes cast small shadows beneath her eyelids, and her breathing was slow and even.
That face was so familiar, etched so deeply into his heart-the face that had always captivated him.
"Is this... paradise?"
Jiraiya murmured, his voice dry and hoarse.
He scratched his head with his right hand, trying to make sense of all this confusion.
Only as he