[Naruto Grandfather] Chapter 136 - 140

Chapter 136

Escape. Run. Flee with everything he had.

Mifune had lost track of how long he had been on the run. Once, he could count his heartbeats with precision, but now even his breathing was erratic.

He knew he was nearing the border of the Iron Country.

The behavior of his pursuers betrayed their impatience. Initially, they had remained hidden, attacking from the shadows. Now, their presence was brazen, their footsteps just three hundred meters behind him.

That distance was the exact range of his Slash—a fact the pursuing ninjas had learned at the cost of nearly ten lives.

"So, you won’t even give me the chance to fight back?"

Mifune glanced over his shoulder at the growing number of ninjas chasing him. Despair began to creep into his heart.

He knew escape was unlikely.

The force behind him was more than enough to corner and kill him. Their hesitation to act was merely a ploy to exhaust him further, reducing unnecessary casualties. They were also waiting for reinforcements—more formidable ninjas who could capture him with certainty.

If that was the case...

Mifune’s resolve solidified. His eyes flashed with determination as he stopped abruptly, planting his feet firmly into the ground.

Clad in pale green armor, he stomped the earth with a force that shook the ground, sending up clouds of dust and debris.

"A samurai never dies with a wound of shame on his back," he declared, his voice thunderous.

"Ninjas of the Five Great Ninja Villages, come at me!"

Mifune crouched slightly, one hand resting on the hilt of his katana. His cold gaze swept over the gathered ninjas, noting the insignias on their forehead protectors: Konoha, Kumo, Iwa, and more. Representatives from nearly every great village were present.

Such an alliance among the Five Great Ninja Villages was unprecedented, and it spoke volumes about the fear and anger the samurai rebellion had stirred.

A bitter smile crept onto Mifune’s face.

"Hah. So even you so-called emotionless ninjas fear us defeated samurai?"

"How amusing... and oddly satisfying."

His voice echoed across the battlefield, but none of the ninjas responded.

They stood frozen, their eyes cold and emotionless, like statues. Only the faint traces of wariness in their expressions proved they were not lifeless.

"None of you dare move?"

"Then I shall make the first move!"

Mifune didn’t wait. With a deep breath, he cleared his mind of distractions. The blade in his hand glimmered as his battle intent surged, sharp and focused.

In a single motion, his figure merged with the silver arc of his blade, streaking toward a Sand ninja standing in the group.

The ninja of Sunagakure panicked.

Known for their expertise in puppetry and unique bloodline techniques, the ninja of the Sand were notoriously weak in close combat. This vulnerability had cost them dearly in the Third Ninja War when they faced the swordsmanship of Konoha’s legendary Sakumo Hatake.

Now, against Mifune—another master swordsman—they found themselves equally outmatched.

"Damn it! Don’t underestimate the Sand Village!" the ninja shouted, thrusting his palm forward. A cyan wind blade materialized, sharp and deadly.

But—

The wind blade, condensed from chakra, was no match for the katana of the Iron Country’s general.

Shing!

The moment the katana met the wind blade, it shattered into nothingness. The silver light of the sword continued forward, slicing cleanly through the Sand ninja.

Bright red blood spilled onto the ground, and the Sand ninja’s cries of agony echoed through the battlefield.

The remaining ninjas from the other great villages recoiled, their pupils shrinking in fear.

Without a second thought, they began to retreat.

There was no attempt to avenge or rescue their fallen comrade.

Mifune laughed bitterly, his voice ringing out.

"Come on, you cowards!"

"Didn’t you come to kill me?"

But before he could say more, a sigh broke through the tense silence.

The sound sent a chill down Mifune’s spine. His face paled as he turned toward the source.

A burly, middle-aged man with long, wild white hair and a ronin’s outfit stood less than ten meters away.

The kanji for "oil" was etched onto the man’s forehead protector, and Mifune’s heart sank.

A bitter smile crossed his face.

"One of the Three Legendary Sannin..."

"I suppose there’s no escape for me now."

Chapter 137

Jiraiya looked at Mifune, whose face was etched with despair, and let out a bitter smile.

Deep down, Jiraiya couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the samurai leader. He understood that Mifune’s rebellion wasn’t born entirely out of ambition but was, in large part, provoked by the Five Great Ninja Villages themselves.

If they hadn’t barged into the Land of Iron to hold the Five Kage Summit without so much as a warning, Mifune and his samurai might have harbored resentment but never would have dared to rise in open defiance.

But—

Jiraiya was now Hokage. As the leader of Konoha, his duty was to protect the interests of his village, even if it meant silencing those who resisted the established order.

With a heavy sigh, Jiraiya muttered under his breath, "I’m sorry, Mifune."

His heart weighed down by his role, Jiraiya placed his hands on the ground and activated a technique.

"Earth Style: Swamp of the Underworld!"

The ground within a hundred-meter radius around Mifune softened and turned into a sticky swamp, dragging the samurai leader’s feet into the muck and immobilizing him.

Mifune, poised for a desperate last stand, felt his legs sink into the mire. His katana faltered mid-draw as he realized he was trapped.

"This is the difference between ninjas and samurai," Mifune said bitterly, gripping his katana tightly before lowering it in resignation.

He clenched his teeth and glared at Jiraiya, his voice filled with anguish. "If it were a head-on confrontation, I might not have won, but I could have held my ground for a time. But under the oppressive power of your ninjutsu, I can barely muster a fraction of my strength."

Jiraiya said nothing. His expression was unreadable as he drew out the fire seal to prepare his next attack. He had already resolved to end this swiftly, knowing that hesitation could lead to greater suffering on both sides.

"Goodbye, Mifune," Jiraiya said quietly.

"Fire Style: Flame Dragon Bomb!"

A roaring flame erupted from Jiraiya’s mouth, cutting through the air with devastating intensity. The searing heat reached Mifune before the flames did, scorching his hair and eyebrows.

There was no doubt—Mifune was doomed to perish under the inferno.

But just as the flames were about to engulf him, a soft, glowing light flickered to life around Mifune.

Then, a voice, calm and serene, spoke into his ear: "Hold on, Mifune."

At that moment, everything around him seemed to freeze.

The roaring flames slowed to a crawl, their destructive beauty resembling strokes of orange paint on a canvas. The world itself seemed to pause, trapped in an eerie stillness.

"Who... who are you?" Mifune whispered, his voice trembling. Even as he faced certain death, this inexplicable phenomenon left him unnerved.

Then, as though struck by a sudden revelation, a single name burst into his mind.

"Uzumaki Chito!"

Mifune’s despair melted away, replaced by a surge of hope and exhilaration.

In this world, who but Uzumaki Chito—the one revered as a god—could save him from the jaws of death with nothing more than a single word?

Mifune began to laugh, his calm and stoic demeanor crumbling under the weight of his elation. For the first time in years, a glimmer of boundless confidence shone in his eyes.

On the other side, Jiraiya watched Mifune’s laughter with growing confusion.

Shouldn’t he be terrified? Jiraiya thought, his brow furrowing. No matter how proud he is, he’s facing certain death. What’s so funny?

But the thought barely settled in Jiraiya’s mind before unease crept over him.

The fire dragon he had unleashed—the unstoppable wave of destruction—was gone.

Vanished without a trace.

Jiraiya’s eyes narrowed, his instincts screaming danger. For a seasoned ninja like him, anything abnormal was a sign of imminent threat.

And then he heard it.

Amid Mifune’s laughter, a name rang out, loud and clear.

"Uzumaki Chito!"

Jiraiya’s blood ran cold.

A shiver coursed through his body as if he had been plunged into icy water. His entire demeanor shifted; gone was the confident warrior, replaced by a man deeply unnerved.

He whipped his head around, his eyes darting frantically as though searching for a predator lurking in the shadows.

Though he saw nothing, his unease only deepened.

Finally, he spoke, his voice trembling with both respect and fear.

"Lord Chito, are you interfering in this matter?"

"If you are, please make your intentions clear. I’ll withdraw my forces immediately."

The air grew heavy as the sky above flickered with a soft, lavender light. The faint glow coalesced, forming what appeared to be a human figure.

Though hazy and indistinct, the form was unmistakably Uzumaki Chito.

Chapter 138

Jiraiya was panicking.

The confidence he had in convening the Five Kage Summit and orchestrating a siege against Shin-Konoha stemmed from one critical assurance—Uzumaki Chito himself had declared that he would not intervene directly.

But now—

Here stood the clone of Uzumaki Chito, faint yet unmistakable, right in front of him.

Jiraiya’s heart pounded. He had witnessed the godlike power of Uzumaki Chito firsthand. Even a mere clone of this man was more than capable of killing him—and everyone else present—with ease.

Jiraiya wasn’t afraid of death.

In the Original Canon. He had proven this before, willingly venturing into the Land of Rain to uncover information about the Akatsuki, even at the cost of his own life. That sacrifice had been instrumental in paving the way for Naruto’s eventual victory over Pain.

But this situation was different.

With Naruto, Tsunade, Kakashi, and Guy all taken to Shin-Konoha by Uzumaki Chito, the original Konoha had been left with no one of sufficient strength to lead except for him.

If Jiraiya died here, the remaining Four Great Ninja Villages would likely turn on Konoha, carving it up among themselves.

To the other villages, Shin-Konoha—shielded by Uzumaki Chito—was an unreachable goal, like a distant, untouchable star. But Konoha, stripped of its strongest warriors, was nothing more than a vulnerable prize, ripe for division.

Jiraiya was panicking, yes, but he was also Jiraiya.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to regain his composure. He shook his long, white hair back and stepped forward, his voice calm despite the tension in the air.

"Lord Chito," Jiraiya began, his tone steady but laced with urgency, "are you going back on your word?"

He continued, his gaze fixed on the shadowy figure. "If I’m not mistaken, you declared that you wouldn’t personally interfere in the war between Konoha and Shin-Konoha."

"So why are you here now?"

The purple clone, formed by the condensation of natural chakra and projected from thousands of miles away, tilted its head. The indistinct features of Uzumaki Chito’s face twisted into an amused, almost mocking smile.

"Are you questioning me?" the clone asked, its voice faint yet sharp as a blade.

"What a bold man. Aren’t you afraid?"

"Or perhaps you think this mere clone of mine isn’t strong enough to kill you and everyone here?"

Jiraiya flinched inwardly at the words but maintained his composure. He met the clone’s gaze with a serious expression.

"No, Lord Chito. I don’t doubt your power, nor do I question your resolve."

"I simply believe in your promises," he replied firmly. "You stated that you wouldn’t interfere in this war, and I trust you to keep your word."

Despite his calm demeanor, Jiraiya felt a twinge of unease.

Since becoming the Fifth Hokage, his role had been more symbolic than functional. The resurrected Third Hokage, wielding the authority of a mentor, had retained much of the actual power. Jiraiya spent his days wandering the village aimlessly, unable to engage in even his favorite pastime—peeping—without being reprimanded by Anbu agents for tarnishing the image of the Hokage.

Left with little else to do, Jiraiya had turned to intelligence gathering.

Through his efforts, he had uncovered a wealth of information about Uzumaki Chito’s history, from his role in founding Konoha alongside the First Hokage to his interactions with Kushina Uzumaki. Among the fragments of information, one statement had stood out to Jiraiya:

"Lord Chito is a man of his word."

This belief was the foundation of Jiraiya’s current resolve. He was wagering everything on Uzumaki Chito’s integrity.

The clone of Uzumaki Chito regarded Jiraiya silently for a moment, then spoke with a tinge of melancholy.

"What a shame," the clone said softly. "If Konoha’s Hokage had always been like you, we wouldn’t be in this situation now."

Jiraiya’s lips tightened into a bitter smile. He knew exactly what Uzumaki Chito was referring to—the actions of the Second and Third Hokage.

The Second Hokage, in his pragmatism, had turned a blind eye to the destruction of Uzumaki Chito’s homeland, the Land of Whirlpools, in favor of Konoha’s security. This betrayal had driven Uzumaki Chito into isolation, leaving Konoha vulnerable during the Third Ninja War.

The Third Hokage had committed his own sins. To maintain control over Naruto, he had allowed the village to ostracize the boy, branding him as the demon fox. Naruto’s miserable childhood had been the result.

Even after Uzumaki Chito’s return, the Third Hokage had attempted to deceive him with lies, hiding the truth about Naruto’s lineage.

If not for the selfishness and shortsightedness of those two Hokage, Jiraiya thought, Konoha could have stood as a beacon of power under Uzumaki Chito’s leadership. The entire ninja world could have enjoyed lasting peace under the protection of a god.

Instead, here they were—fractured, vulnerable, and on the brink of ruin.

Even as a loyal student, Jiraiya couldn’t help but feel a pang of resentment toward his former teacher.

Chapter 139

The fleeting resentment in Jiraiya’s heart slowly subsided as he looked up at the clone of Uzumaki Chito, his expression complicated.

"Yes," Jiraiya admitted quietly, "some things truly are a shame."

"But, Lord Chito," he continued, his tone firm, "you still haven’t answered my question. Do you intend to interfere in the war between Konoha and Shin-Konoha?"

The faintly glowing figure of Uzumaki Chito smiled, a hint of amusement playing across his blurred features.

"Don’t worry, Jiraiya," he said in a calm voice. "I have no intention of ending this game so soon. You don’t need to fear my involvement in your war with Shin-Konoha."

"This situation is merely an accident. You see, when I helped found Konoha, I made a promise to the samurai of the Land of Iron: that I would grant them one request, no matter what it was."

"Just now, one of their samurai invoked that promise to ensure Mifune’s safety."

Uzumaki Chito’s gaze sharpened as he concluded, "So, as long as you release Mifune, there will be no further issues."

Jiraiya couldn’t help but sigh internally. He had no choice in this matter.

Defeating Mifune had been no small task, relying entirely on the advantage of ninjutsu. If it weren’t for his techniques, Mifune’s extraordinary swordsmanship—elevated to the pinnacle of the kage-level—would have made him nearly unbeatable.

Releasing Mifune now meant potentially facing untold casualties in the future. The samurai leader could easily become a thorn in the side of the Five Great Ninja Villages for years to come.

But—

Jiraiya’s gaze drifted back to the imposing figure of Uzumaki Chito. If he dared to refuse, the consequences would be immediate and catastrophic.

Taking a deep breath, Jiraiya raised his hand in a gesture of retreat and spoke respectfully, "Since this is your promise, Lord Chito, I have no choice but to comply. Mifune is free to go."

With that, Jiraiya released the Swamp of the Underworld technique.

The ground beneath Mifune hardened once more, and in a single fluid motion, the samurai broke free.

Mifune turned to the clone, his face alight with gratitude. "Thank you, Lord Chito!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with emotion.

Uzumaki Chito waved dismissively, his expression indifferent.

But just as the atmosphere seemed to calm, a sudden streak of white light sliced through the air, hurtling straight toward Mifune.

"Presumptuous!" Uzumaki Chito’s eyes narrowed, and his voice thundered with anger.

With a casual wave of his hand, a purple chakra barrier materialized in front of Mifune. The shimmering curtain seemed impenetrable, exuding an aura of absolute defense.

Yet—

Shhhht!

The white streak pierced the barrier, tearing through it with ease. Though briefly delayed, the attack continued its relentless path toward Mifune.

Mifune, reacting in the nick of time, leapt forward and narrowly avoided the strike. Behind him, the ground erupted, leaving a rectangular pit of unfathomable depth.

The earth within the pit was gone, vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed.

"What a terrifying attack," Uzumaki Chito murmured, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "It’s almost as powerful as one of my own strikes."

He lifted his gaze, locking eyes with the perpetrator—a diminutive man with a large head and a stern expression, floating in the air alongside a crimson-nosed figure.

Recognition dawned instantly.

"Ōnoki, the Tsuchikage," Uzumaki Chito said with a faint smile. "So, that earlier attack was your famed Dust Release?"

"Impressive."

Ōnoki’s face twisted with rage. "You!" he bellowed. "Your smug expression reminds me of him! That accursed man!"

Without waiting for a reply, Ōnoki clasped his hands together, forming another white cube in his palms.

"Die!" he roared, hurling the glowing construct toward Uzumaki Chito.

The white cuboid streaked through the air, its destructive energy aimed squarely at the clone.

"Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World Technique!" Ōnoki’s voice reverberated with fury.

"Don’t!" Jiraiya shouted in alarm, his voice laced with desperation.

But his plea was drowned out by the sheer force of Ōnoki’s attack. In the blink of an eye, the Dust Release technique reached Uzumaki Chito’s projection.

"Trivial tricks," Uzumaki Chito muttered disdainfully.

He extended a single finger.

At its tip, a speck of white light flickered to life, glowing faintly yet exuding an unshakable sense of power.

Chapter 140

The white light at Uzumaki Chito's fingertips swelled rapidly, transforming into a white cube identical to Ōnoki’s Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World Technique.

In the next instant, the cube expanded suddenly, colliding head-on with Ōnoki’s attack.

Ziiiii—

The two beams of white light met in mid-air with no grand explosion, no dramatic sound. They simply canceled each other out in eerie silence.

Yet, the ninjas observing the battle could feel the destructive power hidden within that calm.

At the intersection of the two Dust Release beams, all matter was annihilated, disassembled down to its atomic components. Nothing could survive within that space—not earth, not air, not even life itself.

"Terrifying," Jiraiya muttered, taking a deep breath. His gaze was locked on the clashing beams in the sky, his heart racing with unease.

Even his greatest defensive techniques—such as summoning Iwayado, the massive rock toad from Mount Myoboku—would be utterly useless against this level of power.

In his battles, Jiraiya had relied on the toad’s immense durability to block attacks that could obliterate entire landscapes. The Swamp of the Underworld and Rashomon pale in comparison to this raw, unrelenting destruction.

Against these two beams of Dust Release, even his legendary defenses would crumble instantly.

If this was the reaction of one of the Sannin, it was no wonder the other tracking ninjas were utterly paralyzed. They didn’t even have the courage to approach. All they could do was observe from a distance, fearful of being caught in the crossfire.

"Such power," one of the ninjas from Konoha murmured, hiding far behind Jiraiya. His thoughts raced as he stared at the spectacle.

"If even a small trace of that energy hits us, we’ll be annihilated without a trace."

"But Uzumaki Chito’s clone is incredible—this isn’t even his real body, and yet he’s holding his own against the Tsuchikage."

"No, more than that. He has the upper hand!"

The ninja, a member of the Nara Clan, crouched low, his shadow coiled like a spring ready to release. His expression remained calm, though his heart raced with adrenaline.

Not all reacted as calmly.

The Iwa ninjas cheered loudly for their Tsuchikage, shouting, "Keep going, Lord Ōnoki!"

Meanwhile, the Kumo ninjas glared at Uzumaki Chito’s clone with fiery determination, their silence radiating hostility like a pack of wild dogs waiting to strike.

The ninja from Kirigakure, versed in the Silent Killing Technique, kept a low profile, their presence nearly imperceptible.

As for the Sunagakure ninjas, they were far less fortunate. The memory of their comrade’s death at Mifune’s hands lingered, leaving them unnerved and hesitant.

Up in the sky, Ōnoki gritted his teeth, sweat pouring down his wrinkled face. He pushed his Dust Release to its limits, pouring everything he had into the technique.

But even as he maintained the attack, his eyes were filled with shock and disbelief.

"This… how is this possible?!" Ōnoki growled, his voice low but trembling with fury.

"Uzumaki Chito!" he roared. "How did you steal the secret technique of Dust Release, the pinnacle of our Iwa Ninja Village?"

Uzumaki Chito chuckled, his faint shadow exuding an air of unshakable confidence.

"Steal?" he repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. "What a ridiculous accusation."

"This technique of yours is so basic, it doesn’t even require effort to understand. Why would I need to steal something so… primitive?"

Ōnoki’s face turned bright red, his fury boiling over. His round cheeks flushed until they resembled a monkey’s.

"How dare you!" he shouted.

"Dust Release isn’t some basic ninjutsu—it’s the pinnacle of our Kekkei Tota, a supreme technique that combines three chakra natures!"

"You—you must have stolen it! There’s no other explanation!"

Ōnoki’s voice rose as he floated higher into the air, his frustration spilling over.

"You… you conniving thief! Admit it already!"

The Tsuchikage’s outburst drew murmurs from the watching ninjas. Suspicious glances turned toward Uzumaki Chito’s clone, even from Mifune, whose life had just been saved by the man.

After all, Dust Release was no ordinary technique—it was a signature ability of the Tsuchikage, one that had gained fame through three ninja wars.

For Uzumaki Chito to dismiss it as "primitive" and claim he had mastered it without effort seemed almost too arrogant to believe.

Even Jiraiya, who regarded Uzumaki Chito with the utmost respect, found himself uneasy at the accusation.

But Uzumaki Chito’s clone simply smirked. His response was sharp and dismissive:

"Ignorance."

The single word cut through the air like a blade.

Ōnoki, already incensed, flared with a mixture of pride and fury. Meanwhile, the observing ninjas bristled at Uzumaki Chito’s dismissive tone, their skepticism deepening.

Only Ōnoki, feeling a rare moment of triumph, quietly wiped the sweat from his forehead while the attention remained fixed on the shadow of Uzumaki Chito.