After the cheering and noise subsided, everyone turned their gaze to the Fourth Mizukage, waiting for more inspiring words.
As usual, I should say something about the Will of Water to make everyone support me even more, Naoki thought.
But how could such a speech leave a lasting impression?
Naoki pulled an orange from his pocket, carefully peeled half of it, separated the segments, inserted a wooden skewer from the sugar-coated dumplings into it, lit it gently, and slowly descended, placing it in the river.
“Let this be a tribute to the innocent souls and brave warriors of the Hidden Mist who have perished.”
As his words fell, those who understood followed suit, searching for oranges to light and float in the river.
Others, not knowing the significance, saw that the Fourth Mizukage had started it and imitated him, using oranges if they had them or dry branches if they didn’t.
Even the usually cold-faced Kisame secretly picked up some sticks, inserted them into an orange, and set them afloat in the river.
Moments later, countless tiny lights floated along the lively river, casting a dreamlike glow in the dim light.
Starlight reflected on the water, firelight flickered, and the lights drifted into the mist.
Naoki clapped his hands, taking the dazed but elated Mei Terumi by the hand, and turned his back on the still-dreaming crowd, heading toward the Mizukage building.
As they walked, Naoki felt a growing sense of urgency from the depths of his heart.
With the Third Shinobi War coming to an end, Obito would inevitably appear soon.
Though Rin was his trump card, manipulation, and cooperation couldn’t be achieved simply by Rin’s presence alone. He had to defeat Obito first.
And what about the Nine-Tails incident? Would it happen on time?
If not, how could he bring Naruto, the protagonist, to the Hidden Mist?
His thoughts swirled like leaves in the wind.
While the peace treaty caused a stir across the distant shores and the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, prepared for negotiations, the Sannin of Konoha reunited once again.
“Tsunade, how is Minato?” Jiraiya asked, pretending to be nonchalant, his white hair glinting as he tried to ease Kushina’s worry, who was too anxious to speak.
“Minato should…”
The renowned healer Tsunade shook her head slowly, her golden ponytail swaying.
“Is that so…”
Seeing Tsunade’s shake of the head, Jiraiya’s expression turned bitter, and his spirits sank.
But looking at Kushina, who sat by the bed with vacant eyes, he forced a smile, trying to comfort her despite the sorrow that hung in the air.
“The lifespan of a body is truly fleeting. Even a man destined to be Hokage can decay like this,” Orochimaru said, his voice laced with both fear and relief.
Seeing Minato, once so vibrant and poised to become the Fourth Hokage, now so weak and bedridden stirred two emotions in Orochimaru: fear of his own mortality and relief that his path was the right one.
Only by pursuing a stronger, eternal life could he find the correct path. Other titles like Hokage, Mizukage, villages, and lives were insignificant.
A cold, detached aura emanated from Orochimaru, only broken by Kushina’s trembling voice.
“Is there really no way to cure him?”
Looking at Kushina’s tear-streaked, exhausted face, Tsunade hesitated.
“Kushina, there’s a chakra within Minato that constantly drains his life force. For this condition, I have no cure. But I can maintain his life.”
Kushina fell silent, and Jiraiya’s futile attempts to console her only highlighted his helplessness.
Orochimaru’s eyes grew distant as he pondered.
A chakra that constantly drains life force. This must be the power Naoki demonstrated—the same power that, with just a pinch of powder, could devour most of one’s life force and kill with ease.
To counteract such power, one would need to find a body that could withstand it and uncover the reason for this resilience.
Hence, finding Naoki and studying the basis of his strength was essential.
But this was Konoha, a village bathed in the light under the guidance of the noble Third Hokage.
Orochimaru’s lips curled into a mocking smile.
As a Konoha ninja, Naoki would never reveal the secret behind his resilience unless he intended to conquer Konoha with his dilapidated Hidden Mist.
Or unless Minato, the loyal dog groomed by the old man, chose to defect to the Hidden Mist one day.
Both scenarios seemed absurd on the surface.
Orochimaru’s snake-like eyes showed pity, while a new resolve took shape within him: the decision to pursue eternal life, disregarding everything else.
“Don’t worry too much, Kushina,” Jiraiya said. “Minato is still young and can wait for a solution.”
“Jiraiya-sama, I…” Kushina choked on her words, unable to speak.
Tsunade suddenly grasped Kushina’s hand tightly.
“Kushina, if I’m not mistaken, you’re pregnant.”
“Huh?”
Kushina’s sadness turned to shock, and she reached a trembling hand to her still-flat stomach.
Her fiery red hair seemed to come alive, floating in the breeze outside the window.
A visible vitality returned to her face.
“Tsunade-sama, am I really pregnant?”
Tsunade nodded firmly.
Kushina looked down at her ordinary stomach, and the bitterness and sorrow melted away.
I will make sure our family grows up happy and together.
Minato must get better, and I will give our child a good environment to grow up in.
It’s up to me now, so I have to be strong, Kushina thought, clenching her fists.
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