Before long, the Pope’s voice filled the hall without effort.
“Jiraya Namikaze. Son of Minato Namikaze. Villager of Doldia.”
The full name of his landed like an unfamiliar thing to Jiro, who is not used to hearing his name like this. He felt every gaze in the room sharpen where the Pope said his name.
“You have been summoned here because of the prophecy spoken by our country’s Oracle, Shizune Nara. The prophecy names Jiraya Namikaze, son of Minato Namikaze, as the next Sage of the entire Mortal Realm. Jiraya Namikaze, Do you have any personal opinion regarding this matter?”
‘What the hell… what is up with him saying my full name again and again?’
The question and the way of saying it was so direct it left Jiro momentarily blank. He glanced sideways at Tsunade. Her lips barely moved, but the shape of the words was clear: Just say no.
Jiro drew a slow breath.
“No. I have no opinion on that matter. Whatever judgment the honored Pope holds on this matter must be the wise one. I have no question about that.”
A faint, approving murmur moved through the nearest clusters of nobles behind. The Pope’s expression did not change much, but something in the set of his shoulders eased.
“Well said, Jiraya Namikaze.”
He rose from the chair.
“Then let the official declaration be made. Jiraya Namikaze, son of Minato Namikaze, this Temple has decided, and will henceforth heed you as the next Sage of the Mortal Realm. I, Hashirama Senju, Pope of this country, vow to serve Jiraya Namikaze, the Sage of our mortal realm, to the best of my abilities. Please accept my obedience.” This story is hosted at novelping(.)com.
He bowed. Deeply.
Just as he did it, around the hall every other person followed, nobles, clergy, knights, even Tsunade herself. The collective motion of so many heads lowering at once sent a strange, dizzy ripple through Jiro’s chest. He stood frozen inside the marble circle, unsure whether he was supposed to speak, gesture, or simply endure the moment until it ended.
After a measured pause, the Pope straightened. The rest of the hall rose with him. No further words were required. However strange it might seem to Jiro, the formal audience seemed to have been already complete.
The walk back to his room passed in a blur of polite bows and quiet footsteps from every around him. Only when the door closed behind him, and he was finally alone, did Jiro let himself drop onto the edge of the big bed. He tugged the high collar of the formal robe loose and drew a long, unsteady breath. The fabric still smelled faintly of the incense that clung to everything in the Temple.
Before he could think about anything else, the door opened without a knock.
Tsunade stepped inside first, Roland close behind her. She looked better than she had in the courtyard, color had returned to her face, and the bandage at her neck was neat, but a careful stiffness still marked the way she moved.
“Jiro-sama,” she said. “I heard you were looking for me and for Roland. Is something the matter?”
Jiro stared at her. “What do you mean, you heard? And you…” He turned to Roland. “...where did you go? You told me to wait here and then vanished. How was I supposed to know if Tsunade-san was even alive?”
Tsunade’s mouth opened with confusion. “Oh, Roland, you….”
Before she voiced the sentence fully, a third set of footsteps entered the room. The Pope stepped past both of them, white robes whispering against the floor. Tsunade and Roland immediately shifted aside, giving him space. Jiro rose on instinct and bowed.
The old man’s voice was dry.
“Our Sage is as kind as my daughter claimed. That much is clear.”
Jiro straightened, still half-bent in the leftover motion of the bow. The Pope’s next words cut cleanly through the room.
“But a Sage should not bow so readily to anyone, Sage-sama. Not even the king holds the authority to bend your knee. So, I hope you refrain from such things in the future. It does not suit your station.” This chapter was copied from novelping(.)com without permission.
The tone was instructional, but the delivery of that tone felt closer to a reprimand. Jiro swallowed the automatic apology that rose to his tongue and simply nodded.
“I understand, honored Pope.”
The Pope continued as though the matter of posture had been only the opening note.
“I was also informed that you purchased a slave in the open market upon your arrival. I hope you also learn that it is not how a Sage should conduct such affairs. Even if your identity was not yet widely known, open transactions of that nature invite rumor. And rumors harm your name; I hope you realise that. It also harms the Temple’s name. We already stand under pressure from both the monarchy and the upper realms cultivators. So, if you require assistance of that kind in the future, speak privately to Tsunade. There is no need for you to handle such matters yourself where every eye can see.”
Jiro’s brow furrowed. The way the Pope spoke about this slave business made it sound as though buying the boy had been some casual indulgence of his rather than a reaction to a child being kicked in the street. He opened his mouth to explain, or at least to ask whether Tsunade had already given the full details of how it happened, when a soft voice called from the corridor.
“Your Holiness. That visitor from earlier insists on an audience. Now! ”
The Pope’s expression tightened. He muttered, just loud enough to carry, “Of course. Now I have to deal with him as well. What a drag…”
He glanced once more at Tsunade.
“I leave the Sage’s immediate needs in your hands, Tsunade. Do not disappoint me further.”
Tsunade bowed. The Pope turned and left without another word. The moment the door shut behind him, both Tsunade and Roland let out long, simultaneous breaths, the stiff formality draining from their shoulders almost immediately, as if both of them were holding their breaths.
Jiro remained standing in the middle of the luxurious room, the formal robes still loose at the collar, the weight of a new name and a new title settling more heavily across his back with every quiet second that passed.