Deep in the desert.
One hour earlier.
A white-haired traveler appeared in the desert, wearing wooden sandals. Normally, such footwear was unsuitable for walking across sand or trekking long distances, but it was a different story when the traveler was a ninja-and Jiraiya, one of the Sannin, at that.
Jiraiya could walk effortlessly on water, so even quicksand failed to faze him.
Yet a faint sadness clouded his face. With water so scarce, the desert had no bathhouses, leaving him unable to indulge in his beloved baths.
Even after rescuing passing travelers, he had not caught sight of a single beauty who set his blood racing.
All he found were men with cracked skin and women even tougher than the men.
After accepting the Great Toad Sage's mission, Jiraiya had traveled day and night toward the interior of the Land of Wind. Even when he passed through Konoha, he had gone right past his own doorstep without entering. He had secretly checked on his student's student, but had not met with the Third.
For Jiraiya the Gallant, nothing mattered more than saving the world.
The novels he wrote were more than mere fantasies. They were the life he imagined for himself.
The desert winds were always fierce at night, so fierce that even the toads refused to come out and chat. They always reminded Jiraiya of the local customs he had encountered on his travels. Of course, as a man who kept himself pure for Tsunade, he never drank in the company of hostesses.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he headed toward the ruins of the Ancient Kingdom of Roran, eager to see the Leyline and begin his investigation.
Just then, Jiraiya spotted a familiar figure in the distance: his close friend, Orochimaru.
Orochimaru seemed to have noticed him too,