Drunk and grinning from ear to ear, Jiraiya said, "How many people in this world are as smart as Lord Hokage?"
"Only a small fraction of people are both smart and rational. I want to make money off the majority, so smart people are my least favorite."
"Young man, it's perfectly normal for these books to make you uncomfortable. They weren't written for you in the first place, wouldn't you agree?"
"You wouldn't put yourself in the story or empathize with its male and female leads. The people who do empathize with novels like these are precisely my favorite readers."
"Do you think books should be written for smart people? Wrong. Truly smart people have knowledge and experience. They don't need to learn anything from my books, and I can't write the kinds of books they need."
"But I need to make money from writing, young man. I need to pay more taxes to Konoha Shinobi Village. My novels have to please the less astute majority of poor people. People who are broke and weak but still full of desires are the best suckers to milk... and nobles who've never experienced being dirt-poor. All that matters is that it feels good."
Then Madara Uchiha gave the drunken Jiraiya a thorough beating.
After beating Jiraiya, Madara Uchiha walked out feeling refreshed.
Looking at the sky growing darker outside, Madara Uchiha suddenly thought that whenever he felt unhappy in the future, he could come find Jiraiya.
Just as Jiraiya had said, all that mattered was that it felt good.
Autumn had arrived.
Night fell earlier than before.
Madara Uchiha walked down the street alone.
It was only October.
Yet the temperature in Konoha had already dropped noticeably.
Carrying the umbrella he had brought with him, Madara Uchiha moved through the shadows like