Chapter 101: Jiraiya's Brand New Work, Absolutely Unforgivable
Kenichi glanced at Jiraiya, then kept walking, the unconscious chunin still slung along with him. He had no intention of speaking. With his face swapped, Jiraiya would not recognize him anyway.
To his surprise, Jiraiya followed.
"Hey, kid. Who's the guy you're carrying?" Jiraiya asked, sounding more curious than concerned.
Kenichi narrowed his eyes internally.
Jiraiya had traveled the world for years. He had seen far worse than this. There was no way he was asking out of simple kindness or boredom. So what was he really probing for?
"…Spoils of war." Kenichi answered after a brief pause. He deliberately lowered his voice, forcing it into a hoarse rasp.
Jiraiya's interest seemed to vanish immediately. He chuckled, turned around, and started toward the black market.
Kenichi let out a quiet breath of relief.
He was not particularly afraid of Jiraiya, but dealing with him was always a headache. More importantly, Jiraiya was stubborn. Once he decided to do something, he usually saw it through.
Like that time he declared he would capture Kenichi's teacher and Kenichi himself, then actually tracked them all the way to this point. That was why the teacher had abandoned those bases in the Land of Fire.
Jiraiya never stopped searching. Annoying did not even begin to cover it.
Kenichi was just about to leave when he felt movement behind him again.
He turned sharply.
Jiraiya had turned back as well, and his hand reached out as if to grab Kenichi's wrist. Kenichi's guard snapped up instantly.
Then Jiraiya froze and withdrew his hand with an awkward grin, clearly realizing how suspicious that had looked.
"Hey, bro. Quick question. Is there a bookstore in this black market?"
Kenichi's lips twitched.
No wonder the teacher said talking with Jiraiya was exhausting.
"I do not think so." Kenichi considered it briefly. The black market was not large, but he had not explored every corner. He had only come to buy what he needed and leave. "You can check yourself."
"What a shame." Jiraiya sighed, his face full of theatrical sorrow. "I wanted to sell my new book here, earn some royalties, and fund my travels."
Kenichi's interest rose despite himself.
It was Jiraiya's book. Anyone who knew, knew.
Jiraiya had written serious novels before, too. The Tale of the Gutsy Ninja, for example, had been especially beloved by Minato.
Of course, the most famous title in the future would be Icha Icha Paradise, the kind of "literature" that could make Kakashi treat a bookstore like a sacred shrine.
"Lord Jiraiya writes books?" Kenichi asked, sounding mildly impressed. "Is it another Tale of the Gutsy Ninja?"
"Oh?" Jiraiya brightened instantly. "You have read my work?"
He did not seem surprised that Kenichi knew who he was. As one of Konoha's Legendary Sannin, Jiraiya had plenty of fame.
"I have read a little." Kenichi nodded honestly.
He had read it, but not by choice. He had found it in the trash while cleaning up after his teacher.
Back then, Kenichi had only just become Orochimaru's disciple. He had been prepared to work himself to the bone just to survive, because he knew exactly how ruthless Orochimaru could be.
Instead, Orochimaru had been unexpectedly easy to deal with and had not dragged him onto an operating table as a test subject. That alone had made Kenichi's life dramatically easier.
Still, chores like cleaning had fallen to Kenichi.
And that was when he had found Jiraiya's novel. Only one copy, but he had finished it.
He had to admit, it was genuinely interesting.
Hearing that, Jiraiya looked even more pleased. His eyes gleamed, and he pulled out a thick stack of papers.
"Want to take a look at my new book?" he asked eagerly. "I can only show you the first part."
Kenichi paused, then nodded. Since Jiraiya did not recognize him, a little conversation would not hurt.
Jiraiya laughed, delighted, and shoved the stack into Kenichi's hands.
Kenichi barely glanced down before he spotted an embarrassing number of words that would get a manuscript banned on the spot. That alone made him silently conclude he had guessed correctly.
So this really was Jiraiya's masterpiece.
Icha Icha Paradise.
Kenichi had never expected to get his hands on an early draft. If Kakashi ever learned about this, he would probably pay a fortune for it, especially if it was a limited version.
Too bad Jiraiya would never hand over the full manuscript.
Still, Kenichi could always try negotiating later. Stranger things had happened.
Then his eyes caught the title on the first page.
The Untold Story of Me and Orochi
Kenichi choked.
"Cough, cough!"
What was this title?
Was it not supposed to be Icha Icha Paradise? How did it suddenly become The Untold Story of Me and Orochi?
With Jiraiya standing right in front of him, and a name like Orochi in the title, Kenichi's brain immediately started running in directions it had no business running.
He forcibly shook his head.
No. Misunderstanding. It was probably just a different name.
Then he read the opening properly, and his expression grew stranger by the second.
This "Orochi" was basically Orochimaru with the name swapped.
The story followed a poor boy who accidentally inherited the legacy of the God of Shinobi, then became a disciple of the Hokage of Konoha, the strongest village. He had a proud blonde loli on his team and a seemingly aloof black haired boy as well.
Then, by accident, the protagonist discovered the true identity of that cold, long haired figure.
A beautiful girl with long, straight black hair.
From there, all kinds of scenes unfolded, packed with dense descriptions and shameless detail. The writing was smooth, the pacing was confident, and the hook was strong enough to drag a reader along without mercy.
Kenichi had to admit it.
Even if this was a new work, Jiraiya's foundation was solid. His technique was sharp. It was captivating in the most dangerous way.
But one thing made Kenichi's scalp go numb.
Why was the beautiful girl with long, straight black hair called Orochi?
Kenichi slowly lifted his gaze to Jiraiya, his expression turning complicated.
"Lord Jiraiya…" he asked carefully, voice tight with disbelief. "What is this?"
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