Main World.
Konoha Year 18, autumn.
British Continent, New Capital.
Imperial Palace, banquet hall.
Jilan's one-month celebration was grand and magnificent. Representatives of the Empire's nobility, gentry, and citizens gathered together, toasting amid laughter and conversation. The guests from Shinobi World No. 1-Sasori, Nagato, Yahiko, and Konan-also attended the banquet, seated in the places of honor Toyotomi Yinglang had specially arranged for them.
Nagato wore a dark gray Imperial formal suit, his dark red hair neatly combed. His Mangekyō Sharingan had faded, returning to an ordinary violet, but an indescribable stillness remained in the depths of his eyes. He sat beside Toyotomi Yinglang, his gaze resting on the infant Kushina held in her arms in the center of the banquet hall.
"Teacher."
Nagato spoke very softly.
"Do you intend to send your son to the battlefield at ten?"
"Yes."
Toyotomi Yinglang raised his wineglass and took a sip.
"Teacher, quite a few children go to war in Shinobi World No. 1, too. Many of them have died."
"The vast majority of them are cannon fodder."
Toyotomi Yinglang set down his glass and leaned back in his chair.
"They can't even use the Three Basic Body Techniques properly. Of course their mortality rate is high."
Nagato fell silent.
"I'll raise Jilan with the best resources."
Toyotomi Yinglang's voice was calm.
"He'll bathe in Foundation Establishment Spirit Liquid."
Nagato's pupils contracted slightly.
"Foundation Establishment Spirit Liquid..."
"Yes. Foundation Establishment Spirit Liquid." Toyotomi Yinglang nodded. "The cost of that stuff is enough to feed a family of three for a year. But my son has been soaking in it since birth."
Nagato lowered his head, looking at his faintly trembling fingers.
"Teacher, you're... truly good to Jilan."
"He's my son."
Toyotomi Yinglang's voice was calm.
"If I'm not good to him, who should