Naruto: The Fate of Beasts

Jiraiya had been wandering for days, as he often did when he saw the smoke on the horizon. At first, he thought it might be a large bonfire—perhaps a festival or celebration. But as the wind shifted, carrying with it the acrid scent of burning flesh, his stomach turned. This was no celebration. This was something far darker.

"What the hell happened here?" he muttered, his voice low as he quickened his pace. The forest around him was eerily silent, the usual chirping of birds and rustling of leaves replaced by an oppressive stillness. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and death, and Jiraiya's instincts screamed at him to be cautious. He had seen enough battles to know that whatever had happened here was no ordinary skirmish.

As he drew closer, the extent of the destruction became clear. Houses lay in ruins, their wooden frames charred and broken. The ground was littered with debris, and the snow was stained crimson in places. But what struck Jiraiya most was the absence of bodies—villager bodies, at least. Instead, the ground was scattered with the corpses of attackers, their red and white cloaks stark against the white snow. They lay where they had fallen, their masks cracked and their weapons still clutched in lifeless hands. A battle had been fought here, and it had been brutal.

Jiraiya's eyes narrowed as he spotted a small figure kneeling in front of a massive pyre, its flames now reduced to smoldering embers. The child—a boy, no older than seven—was hunched over, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The sight tugged at Jiraiya's heart, but he remained cautious. This was no ordinary child. The boy's silvery-white hair glinted in the dim light, and a black bandana was tied tightly around his head, completely obscuring his eyes.

Jiraiya stepped closer, his footsteps deliberately soft. The boy didn't seem to notice him, his attention fixed on the pyre. Jiraiya's gaze swept over the scene—the charred remains of the village, the bodies of the attackers, the boy's trembling form. It didn't take a genius to piece together what had happened. The boy had been the only one left. The only one to survive.

"Hey, kid," Jiraiya called out, his tone gentle but firm. "You okay?"

The boy froze. Then, with a speed that surprised even Jiraiya, he spun around, his body tense and ready to fight. The bandana remained firmly in place, hiding his eyes completely, but the fury in his voice was unmistakable.

"Stay back!" the boy snarled, his voice cracking with exhaustion and rage. He dragged himself into a fighting stance, his small fists clenched, his body trembling but resolute. "I won't let you hurt anyone else!"

Jiraiya raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Whoa, whoa, easy there, kid. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to help."

The boy didn't listen. With a cry of fury, he lunged at Jiraiya, his movements clumsy but fueled by sheer desperation. As he moved, the bandana around his eyes slipped slightly, revealing a glimpse of his glowing white eyes. Jiraiya's breath hitched for a moment—he had never seen anything like them. The boy's eyes were like twin moons, their light piercing through the darkness.

"Stay back!" the boy screamed again, his voice raw with emotion. He swung wildly at Jiraiya, his attacks fueled by a mix of fear and anger. Jiraiya sidestepped easily, his expression a mix of amusement and concern. The boy's attacks were wild and uncoordinated, but there was a raw intensity to them that spoke of a deep, unrelenting pain.

"Kid, you're in no condition to fight," Jiraiya said, dodging another wild swing. "Why don't we talk this out?"

But the boy wasn't listening. His attacks grew more frantic, his breathing ragged. Jiraiya's eyes narrowed as he noticed the changes in the boy's chakra—it was erratic, unstable, as if he was burning through his very life force to keep going. The boy's movements were fueled by pure adrenaline and desperation, and it was clear he wouldn't last much longer.

"Damn it," Jiraiya muttered. "Kid, you're gonna kill yourself if you keep this up."

With a sigh, Jiraiya's expression hardened. He didn't want to hurt the boy, but he couldn't let him destroy himself either. With a swift movement, he closed the distance between them and delivered a precise strike to the boy's pressure points. The boy's body stiffened for a moment before he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Even in sleep, the boy's face was a mask of anger—his teeth clenched, his fists balled up as if ready to keep fighting. Jiraiya knelt beside him, his expression softening. He reached out and adjusted the boy's bandana, ensuring it was tied securely and completely hid his eyes. There was no glow, no hint of the strange dojutsu that might lay beneath—just a child, broken and alone.

"Got some spirit in you, huh?" Jiraiya said quietly. "But you're not gonna do anyone any good if you're dead."

Jiraiya straightened, his mind racing. The boy was in bad shape—his chakra was dangerously depleted, and his body was on the brink of collapse. Jiraiya wasn't a medical-nin, but he knew enough to recognize that the kid needed help, and fast. He bit his thumb and performed a series of hand seals before slamming his palm onto the ground.

"Summoning Jutsu!"

In a puff of smoke, a small toad appeared. It was **Gamagama**, one of the more level-headed toads from Mount Myōboku. The toad blinked up at Jiraiya, his expression unimpressed.

"What is it this time, Jiraiya?" Gamagama asked, his voice dry. "Another mess you need cleaning up?"

"No time for jokes," Jiraiya said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "This kid's in bad shape. I need you to help me stabilize him until we can get him to a proper medic."

Gamagama glanced at the unconscious boy, his expression softening. "He's just a kid. What happened here?"

"I don't know," Jiraiya admitted. "But I intend to find out. For now, let's focus on keeping him alive."

Together, Jiraiya and Gamagama worked quickly, using basic medical techniques and chakra stabilization to keep the boy from slipping away. As they worked, Jiraiya couldn't help but wonder about the boy's glowing eyes, the destruction around them, and the attackers in red and white. Who were they? And why had they targeted this village? The boy was the key to answering those questions, but for now, his survival was the only thing that mattered.

"Who are you, kid?" Jiraiya murmured, his gaze fixed on the boy's face. "And what the hell happened here?"