Unlike the world outside, filled with war, death, and grief, this land was bathed in eternal sunlight—peaceful, warm, and untouched by conflict.
Waterfalls cascaded down distant cliffs, their roar gently muting the hum of insects. Though the water was cloudy, it carried no sense of filth—more like a natural oil that seeped from the land itself.
Breezes rustled the canopy overhead, leaves dancing with the wind. Frogs lounged on broad branches, flipping over lazily to soak in the tranquility of this paradise.
This was Mount Myōboku—one of the Three Great Sage Realms.
"You've finally come, Minato."
Within the highest hall of Mount Myōboku, the elder sage Fukasaku greeted Minato Namikaze, who had just returned from Konoha and rushed straight here.
"The situation's worse than we imagined. Far worse."
"What's going on?" Minato asked.
"Follow me."
Fukasaku led him into a deep cave at the peak of the mountain. As Minato stepped inside, his gaze fell upon a sight that shook him: the enormous, ancient form of the Great Toad Sage, eyes open and staring silently at the stone floor.
"He actually awoke from his slumber…"
Minato's voice wavered. Nearby, on a bed of stone, stood another familiar figure—one he knew better than anyone.
"...Jiraiya-sensei."
His heart clenched.
Jiraiya's body lay motionless, wrapped in a thick membrane of toad oil. The fatal wound at his throat had been healed, and his body brimmed with natural energy—as if some divine force had tried to breathe life into him.
But the body was still lifeless. A shell.
"We tried to bring him back," Fukasaku said solemnly.
"He died, yes. But the Great Toad Sage possesses the power to restore the dead—at least under the right conditions."
Resurrect the dead...
The words struck Minato like a jolt. He didn't respond with naïve disbelief. No, he understood: to reverse death would require a cost no ordinary soul could bear.
"And… did it fail?"
Fukasaku nodded. "Yes. Or rather—it was interrupted halfway through."
He continued, "The Great Toad Sage restored Jiraiya's physical body. Under normal circumstances, with the body healed and a proper spiritual anchor, his soul should have returned from the Pure Land."
"But it didn't."
Minato's brow furrowed. "Why? What happened?"
Fukasaku's voice turned grim.
"Not just Jiraiya… every soul killed by Yuki Yoru—none of them returned to the Pure Land."
"What?!"
In the shinobi world, it was accepted as truth: the soul of the dead returns to the Pure Land to rest. That's what made techniques like Edo Tensei possible in the first place.
But now—this completely overturned that understanding.
"Are you saying… Yoru took their souls?" Minato asked, eyes wide.
He already imagined terrible possibilities—dark soul experiments in the Mist, forbidden techniques, secret rituals…
"If only it were that simple," Fukasaku said darkly. "The truth might be even worse."
"He may have devoured them."
Minato's breath caught. "Devoured… their souls?"
What kind of monstrous power was that? The very idea was taboo—something that transcended even the worst of the Shinobi world's forbidden techniques.
"'The Pure Land fades… the shapeless empire shrouds the world,'" the Great Toad Sage spoke at last, his ancient voice slow, heavy.
"That child possesses the power to control souls. He is not the Child of Prophecy—but he may still reshape the world. Whether that change brings peace… or ruin, I cannot say."
The power to control souls…
Minato's thoughts spiraled.
Now it made sense.
Yuki Yoru wasn't just strong—he was unnatural. From the very beginning, all intelligence had underestimated him. What they thought was just a talented Mist ANBU turned out to be a monster whose strength grew with every kill.
He was devouring death. Killing to evolve.
Minato felt a cold sweat rise at the base of his neck.
A child raised in the Blood Mist Village. A shinobi who fed on slaughter.
There was no way such a man could bring peace.
That boy… he might be the very calamity that destroys the Shinobi World.
"Great Toad Sage… what exactly is Yuki Yoru?"
Before Minato could finish his question, the ancient sage's eyelids dropped, and he fell back into sleep.
Fukasaku sighed. "I know you have questions, but they'll have to wait. The next time he dreams… maybe we'll get another prophecy."
He paused. "No matter what you heard here, Minato—Jiraiya believed in you. You were his Child of Prophecy. The one who could end the chaos and bring true peace to the world."
"So whatever you choose—whatever path you take—believe in yourself. That's all that matters."
"…Believe in myself, huh…"
Minato murmured the words, but his eyes were filled with doubt.
Believe?
He had failed everyone he swore to protect.
Obito. Rin. Kakashi. All gone.
He had failed his comrades too. Akimichi Dōtō had died in his arms. On the frozen battlefield of Higashimatsuyamai, he could only watch as friend after friend was slaughtered—turned to lifeless statues of ice. He'd been powerless.
"…Can I really do it?"