” Late at night in Konoha, the lights of the Yamato-ya tavern were dim, and the air was thick with the pungent aroma of cheap sake and the greasy scent of grilled meat.
Jiraiya breathed heavily, his breath smelling of alcohol, his wild white hair looking somewhat disheveled.
Looking at the black-haired boy sitting before him—smiling with pure innocence and even thoughtfully pouring him more wine—his eyelids twitched uncontrollably.
He had been famous for years as the Toad Sage of Mount Myoboku and possessed an illustrious reputation throughout the Ninja World.
Never in his wildest dreams did he expect to be held in a chokehold by a twelve-year-old kid.
“Lord Jiraiya, your alcohol tolerance doesn’t seem to match your grand reputation.
We’ve only had five bottles, so why has your gaze already gone vacant?” While leisurely turning the premium beef tongue over the charcoal fire, Hoshi pulled a thick stack of bills from his robes.
He had asked the shopkeeper to urgently tally them up earlier, taking advantage of the moment when Jiraiya, fueled by booze, was boasting about his “research experiences” to the older women at the neighboring table.
“This table of premium wagyu beef, thirty bottles of aged sake, plus the compensation for the lost wages of those three hostess ladies whom you dragged into listening to your *Make-Out Paradise* draft outline for an hour…” Hoshi’s fingers flicked rapidly across a small abacus he carried, producing a crisp clacking sound.
“That brings us to a grand total of 428,000 ryo.
Since this is our first meeting, I’ll waive the small change.
Let’s just round it up to an even 430,000 ryo.” “Hey!
Since when does rounding off mean rounding *up*?!
Did you fall into a money pit, you brat?” Jiraiya slammed the table in anger, splashing the sake in his cup.
“Besides, didn’t you say you specifically called those three women over ‘to welcome an elder back to the village’?
Something about ‘giving the Sage the grand reception he deserves’—and now it’s all on my tab?!” “Lord Jiraiya, you shouldn’t put it that way.” Hoshi calmly took a sip of hot tea, a sly, old-fox-like glint in his eyes.
“Master always taught me to respect our elders and cherish the young when we’re away from home.
You’re a senior and a universally recognized hero of the Ninja World.
If I let you eat a hundred-ryo bowl of ramen at a roadside stall, wouldn’t that be a slap in Master’s face?
As for the cost…
a big-time author like you, who constantly dominates the bestseller lists, can easily make that back by writing a couple of spin-off chapters, right?” Just as Jiraiya was about to blow his top, Hoshi suddenly lowered his voice and leaned in mysteriously.
“Furthermore…
Lord Jiraiya, those three ladies had nothing but praise for your passionate ‘research’ when they left.
By the way, I accidentally used my miniature Katsuyu’s sensory link to snap a few photos of you drunk…
holding a sake bottle, crying ‘Tsunade, don’t leave,’ and trying to grab their hands to feel their palms.
They have great ‘artistic value.'” As he spoke, Hoshi flashed the edge of a storage scroll from his sleeve, wearing a classic, Minato-style warm smile, though his eyes carried an unvarnished threat.
Cold sweat instantly broke out all over Jiraiya, snapping him halfway out of his drunken stupor.
This was exactly the kind of thing he feared most.
If Tsunade found out that on his very first day back in the village, he was fooling around in a tavern, calling out her name while hugging a sake bottle—and worst of all, caught red-handed by her personal disciple—he probably wouldn’t live to see tomorrow’s sunrise.
“You brat…
you really picked up some terrible habits!
What on earth did that violent woman Tsunade teach you?
How are you so proficient in these underhanded methods?” Jiraiya gritted his teeth and hissed in a low voice, deflating like a punctured balloon.
“Tell me, what do you want?
If you’re hoping to blackmail me for an S-rank Ninjutsu, you’ve got another thing coming!” “Ninjutsu?
Lord Jiraiya, I’m certainly interested in your Ninjutsu, but that’s for later.
Right now, I’m more concerned about Master’s purse.” Hoshi pulled out a slip of paper from his robes covered in names of places and numbers, densely stamped with red ink seals from various famous casinos across the Land of Fire.
“Master has accumulated quite a bit of debt outside.
Although I’ve helped clear some of the smaller sums over the last few years, there are still plenty of ‘long-standing accounts’ piled up.
As her ‘dear friend,’ do you really have the heart to watch her jump out of windows and live in caves every day just to avoid debt collectors?
Sign your name on this bill of 430,000 ryo and this ‘Voluntary Payment of Master-Disciple Affection Compensation Fund,’ and I will burn those ‘artistic photos’ right in front of you without keeping a single copy.” Looking at the densely packed debt slip, Jiraiya’s heart bled.
That was the royalty money he had saved for half a year to fund his next grand research trip!
“I’ll sign!
I’ll sign, alright?!
Talk about bad luck, running into a little black-hearted imp like you!” With trembling hands, Jiraiya signed his name on the contract that would effectively bankrupt him for the next six months.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Lord Jiraiya.” Hoshi neatly tucked away the contract.
With a tiny flick of Fire Style chakra at his fingertips, the storage scroll dissolved into ashes before Jiraiya’s eyes (though, of course, a backup copy had already been transmitted back to Shikkotsu Forest via Katsuyu).
With the debt issue resolved, Hoshi’s expression gradually grew serious, his tone losing its teasing edge.
“Lord Jiraiya, now that the money matters are out of the way, let’s talk business.
Your return to the village this time, aside from looking for Master, is likely also because of the signs of frequent activity by that organization called ‘Akatsuki’ along the borders of various nations, isn’t it?” Jiraiya’s slightly defeated look instantly turned as sharp as a hawk’s.
He stared intently at Hoshi and said in a deep voice, “Kid, you really do know a lot.
Tsunade even told you about classified intelligence like that?” “Master didn’t say it outright, but I have my own observations.
At a time like this, Konoha needs a Hokage who can hold down the fort.” Hoshi looked at the bright moon outside the window, his gaze deep.
“Lord Sandaime is growing old, and Danzo is sharpening his blades in the dark.
If you don’t bring Master back, I fear this ‘Will of Fire’ is going to end up burning our own people.” Jiraiya fell into a long silence.
Looking at the boy before him, he seemed to see a level of clarity and gravity that did not belong to someone his age.
“Hoshi, you are very much like my student Minato—it’s a pity he is no longer with us—but you are much darker and harder of heart.” Jiraiya picked up his cup of leftover sake again and downed it in one gulp.
“I don’t know whether taking in a disciple like you is Tsunade’s blessing, or her karmic retribution as the Legendary Sucker.” “Probably…
a combination of both,” Hoshi teased, reverting once more to his carefree, sunny self.
“But let’s not get too heavy.
Lord Jiraiya, since the bill has already been paid, we shouldn’t let this meat go to waste.
Hurry up and eat.
Shall I order more if it’s not enough?” “Beat it!
If we order any more, I’ll have to sell books on the street!” That night, the old man and the youth talked at length in the tavern.
Though Jiraiya was pained by the loss of his money, he was shocked by Hoshi’s modern, logical way of strategic thinking.
Meanwhile, Hoshi used this master informant of the Ninja World to gain a preliminary understanding of the delicate balance at the highest echelons of power in Konoha.
Before leaving, a drunken Jiraiya patted Hoshi on the shoulder.
“You little brat, if you ever run out of money in the future, don’t you dare come looking for me…
Wait, no, if *I* ever run out of money, I definitely won’t come looking for you!
You’re a hundred times more insidious than a casino owner!” “Take care, Lord Jiraiya.
Watch your step, don’t fall into the drainage ditch.” Standing under a streetlamp, Hoshi watched Jiraiya’s swaying figure recede, his originally clear eyes gradually growing deep and unfathomable.
He flipped his hand and summoned the miniature Katsuyu.
“Lady Katsuyu, pass this on to Master: the big fish did more than bite—he also cleared up her old Yamato-ya tab.
In addition, tell Master to be careful.
Don’t let others read her at those small casinos; we just paid off a chunk of her debt, so she’d better not rack up another pile.” “Understood, Lord Hoshi.
If Lady Tsunade knew how good you are at ‘housekeeping,’ she would surely celebrate by drinking two more barrels.” “Let’s not.
My first big victory back in the village, and it was achieved by scamming a senior.
It seems my moral compass is indeed running on empty.” The boy’s swaying figure disappeared into Konoha’s pitch-black alleys…