Harry Potter: Toji Potter

The warm glow of the Hokage's office lanterns cast long shadows against the wooden walls. The atmosphere was heavy, thick with the weight of inevitable fate.

Jiraiya sat across from Tsunade, his arms crossed, the usual smirk absent from his face. There was no room for jokes tonight.

Harry leaned against the far wall, arms folded, observing. He already knew how this would end.

Jiraiya exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples. "I've found a lead… Amegakure, the Hidden Rain. That's where their leader is."

Tsunade stiffened. "Then send a team—send Naruto, send Kakashi, send anyone but you!"

Jiraiya shook his head. "No. This is something I have to do myself."

Tsunade slammed a fist on the desk, the wood cracking under her raw strength. "Jiraiya, don't do this! You know it's a trap. You know you might not come back!"

Harry finally spoke. "You won't come back."

Silence.

Jiraiya turned his head toward Harry, but the younger man wasn't looking at him—his gaze was locked on the night sky through the window.

"You may find something you never expected," Harry murmured. "An old bond will find you… and it will spell your doom."

Jiraiya frowned, but his heart was already resigned.

"Do you honestly believe Naruto can handle your loss?" Harry asked, finally looking at him.

The room seemed to freeze.

Tsunade gasped quietly, her hands balling into fists. The very idea of losing Jiraiya shook her to her core.

Jiraiya, however, smiled.

"He can."

His voice held no hesitation, no doubt. "Naruto's stronger than any of us give him credit for. He's the child of prophecy, after all. He'll change the world."

Harry sighed. "I already knew what you'd choose."

Tsunade's hands trembled. She already knew too.

The air was thick with unspoken words as Jiraiya stood at the Hokage office doors.

Harry and Tsunade followed him outside. The streets of Konoha were quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the moon.

Tsunade's eyes glistened, but she refused to let the tears fall. She wouldn't beg him to stay.

She knew Jiraiya too well.

He had already decided.

Harry suddenly raised his right arm, clenching his fist above his head.

Jiraiya blinked—then smiled.

He did the same.

A silent farewell. A gesture of departure only the two of them understood, a fist to continue the battle till it ends. 

Tsunade watched, her throat tightening, her nails digging into her palms.

Then, without another word, Jiraiya turned and walked away.

He never looked back.

Hours passed.

Harry and Tsunade sat on the Hokage Mansion's balcony, feet dangling over the edge, watching the peaceful night sky.

The village was quiet. Too quiet.

Tsunade sighed, running a hand through her hair. "This air… it feels like the calm before a war."

Harry didn't respond.

She turned her head slightly—Harry was still awake, his glowing divine eyes reflecting the stars above.

Of course, he was. He never needed sleep anymore.

Tsunade's lips pressed into a thin line. The silence was comforting, in a way.

Then, without realizing it, she drifted off to sleep against Harry's shoulder.

And Harry remained still.

Watching.

Waiting.

Because Tonight, a legend walked to his fate.

Over with Jiraiya:

The cool night air rushed past Jiraiya's face as he sped through the dense forests of the Fire Country. The towering trees and familiar scent of earth and rain brought back old memories—memories of youth, of training, of running these very woods with Orochimaru and Tsunade.

But tonight, there was no time for nostalgia.

His sandals barely touched the branches as he moved faster than any normal shinobi could track, his senses honed to perfection. The border of Amegakure was close now, the air shifting from the warm winds of Fire Country to the damp, metallic chill of Rain Country.

Amegakure.

The very name sent a strange feeling through his gut. It was notorious for its secrecy, its paranoia. The village was a fortress, locked away in eternal rain, guarded by shinobi who feared the wrath of their enigmatic leader.

Jiraiya landed on a tree branch overlooking the border town. The downpour began immediately, as if Amegakure itself sensed an intruder approaching. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Time to get to work.

Slipping past the outer patrols was almost too easy for a shinobi of Jiraiya's caliber. A quick Genjutsu here, a well-placed shadow clone there—before long, he was inside.

The streets of Amegakure were eerily silent. The citizens moved in shadows, their eyes darting around fearfully. The oppressive rule of Pain had turned them into ghosts, forever walking in fear of the unseen ruler.

Jiraiya's eyes narrowed.

This wasn't just about the Akatsuki. This village itself was suffering.

Moving through the alleyways like a specter, he spotted two Amegakure shinobi standing under a narrow overhang, shielding themselves from the relentless rain. Their hoods were up, but he could still see the weariness in their posture.

Perfect.

Jiraiya struck fast.

A flicker of movement. A muffled shout.

And just like that, the two shinobi vanished into the shadows with him.

Inside the damp confines of an abandoned warehouse, Jiraiya sat on a crate, one leg crossed over the other.

Before him, the two captured shinobi hung upside down from the ceiling, wrapped tightly in his chakra-infused hair.

"Now," he began, pulling a small sake bottle from his pouch, "let's make this easy."

The shinobi, struggling against their bindings, refused to speak.

Jiraiya sighed. "You Ame guys are always so stubborn."

He took a slow sip of his sake, letting the warmth burn down his throat. Then, without hesitation—he flared his killing intent.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. The air became suffocating.

One of the shinobi gasped, his will breaking instantly.

"P-Please! I don't know much, but I swear—Pain is our leader! He controls Amegakure! We don't even see him, but when we do, it's in the form of a god!"

Jiraiya's eyes darkened. "A god, huh?"

The other shinobi gritted his teeth. "He's real! His power is beyond anything we've seen! He speaks with the voice of judgment, and when he punishes, there is no escape!"

Jiraiya hummed, swirling the remaining sake in his bottle.

"I see."

A quick movement of his hands and both shinobi fell unconscious.

He set them down gently, his mind churning with thought.

Pain.

That name again. The leader of Akatsuki. The ruler of Ame.

Jiraiya exhaled, tilting his head back and finishing the last of his drink. The hot burn of sake felt like fire in his chest, grounding him.

He couldn't shake the feeling in his gut. Something about all this was too familiar.

But no time for doubts now.

Time to fight like a Sannin.

Stepping outside, the rain pounded against his skin, soaking his robes instantly.

The village was waking up. The shinobi he knocked out would be found soon, and he was going to throw hands until there were no hands to throw.