The sound of war was just as horrifying as the battles he had seen.

Uzumaki Naruto was a Shinobi, born to kill, to fight, to defend, to die. But the academy didn't prepare him for this, neither did the Chunin exams, nothing could ever. He was fast, so fast, in his Kyuubi chakra form, but speed couldn't save him from what was ahead.

He had gotten separated from his army, somehow forced into the borderlands between the Land of Wind and the Land of Fire. It was where the harsh sands met the dense trees, a place that didn't belong to either nation, yet seemed to swallow both. He needed to get back—back to his comrades, back to the fight.

'If I use Sage Mode, I could sense where to go.' He muttered, the frustration burning in his chest. But there was a reason not to.

The death.

The sheer quantity of suffering, emptiness, death—it was everywhere. In Sage Mode, it would overwhelm him, choke him, drown him. He could sense war, even now, without it.

He did not like it.

It was quiet. So quiet. The Edo Tensei were rampant, and he knew the real fighting was far off. But this silence was unnerving. The quiet before another storm.

His breath caught in his throat. Something moved, just at the edge of his vision, flickering in the fading light of the evening sky. His eyes went wide, and his heart skipped a beat. He turned sharply, hands twitching, ready to form seals. But there was nothing. Just the desert wind, rustling the branches of a dying tree.

A mirage, an illusion. He shook his head. He had to keep going, to push forward. He was steering clear of the battlefield, keeping away from the chaos.

And then he heard it.

"Naruto!"

He stopped dead in his tracks. His body tensed, breath caught in his chest. That voice. That tone. That pitch.

His heart clenched, and his eyes squeezed shut as the sound reverberated in his mind.

It couldn't be him.

Naruto refused to turn around, but he froze mid-stride, perched on a tree branch, the wind rustling softly around him.

He had died. He had died—Naruto had accepted that. But here he was.

Jiraiya.

The legendary Sannin, one of the strongest shinobi in all of Konoha's history. Tall, broad-shouldered, carrying the weight of both wisdom and mischief in equal measure. His white hair cascaded down his back, just like Naruto remembered. The same red haori, the same armored chest plate, and that same look of unshakable confidence. He wore the same smile he had when he left this world—calm, knowing, like he had seen it all and wasn't afraid of what came next.

"Turn around." Jiraiya's voice was steady, commanding but gentle. The voice of a teacher. Of someone who had believed in him, shaped him.

Naruto clenched his fists, staring straight ahead at the horizon, refusing to look back. He couldn't do it. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing. He had mourned Jiraiya. He had lived through that pain, through the despair of losing his master, his father-figure, the one person who had believed in him when no one else did.

He shook his head weakly, his voice barely above a whisper, "You're dead." The words trembled, like they had been ripped from the same place in his heart where he'd first heard the news. The same wound that had never really healed. "Dead people don't give orders… they stay dead."

His breath hitched as he forced the words out, each one feeling heavier than the last. He didn't want to believe it, didn't want to hope. Not again. Not after losing him once.

Naruto swallowed, biting his lip, his heart aching as he fought to hold back the tears. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to let go.

"You're gone," Naruto whispered again, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "And nothing's ever going to bring you back."

The wind picked up, carrying Jiraiya's reply, soft and bittersweet. "No, I'm not. Not really. I'm always here, Naruto."

Naruto's hands trembled as he wiped the tears from his eyes, not daring to look back. He couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe, he thought, maybe if he never turned around, he could hold on to that voice just a little longer. Just a little more time with him.

"You don't need to be here," He finally said, his voice barely holding together, cracking under the weight of everything unsaid. "I'm doing fine."

There was silence for a moment, the wind brushing past them both, carrying the scent of dust and war.

"I know you are." Jiraiya replied softly.

Naruto's fists tightened, his knuckles white. He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe he didn't need him anymore, that he had grown beyond the boy who needed his sensei's guidance.

"I defeated Nagato. I saved the village." His voice wavered, a mixture of pride and pain, as though saying it out loud made it all the more real—and more heartbreaking.

"I know you did." Jiraiya replied, the same gentle tone, as if he had always known Naruto would, even when Naruto hadn't believed it himself.

He felt his chest constrict, the tears welling up as he struggled to keep his composure. "I mastered Kurama's chakra." His breath hitched. "I did it… I did it…."

"I know you did." There was no surprise in Jiraiya's voice. Just pride. Pure, unshaken pride.

Naruto squeezed his eyes shut, the tears he had been fighting spilling over. His shoulders trembled. "I'm going to end this war."

"I know you are," Jiraiya said again, his voice steady, unshakable, as though the outcome had never been in question.

Naruto's vision blurred, his tears mixing with the dirt on his face. His voice was barely more than a whisper now, choked and heavy. "I'm still going to be the Hokage."

"I know you will." Jiraiya answered softly, but this time, there was something deeper in his voice—something warm, something final.

There was a long moment of somber silence, the kind that weighed heavier than words ever could. The breeze rolled by, stirring the branches and sending small clouds of dust across the barren landscape. Naruto stood frozen, his eyes still fixed ahead, his heart pounding in his chest, each beat echoing the ache he had been trying to bury.

Then, Jiraiya's voice cut through the stillness, but this time it was different—stern, yet filled with an unmistakable tenderness.

"Turn around," he said, his voice commanding in the way it always had been when Naruto needed direction. But this time, there was something deeper. After a pause, Jiraiya's voice softened, almost fragile, as if the words themselves were too heavy for even him to carry.

"... One last time."

Naruto's breath caught in his throat. His body trembled as the weight of those words settled into his bones. He wanted to obey, to turn and face his sensei, the man who had been like a father to him, who had believed in him. But he was afraid. Afraid that if he turned, it would all slip away—that everything would unravel, and the last thread connecting them would be cut.

But that voice—his voice—had asked him for this. One final thing.

Slowly, painfully, he forced his body to move, turning on the tree branch, his heart pounding in his chest as he lifted his eyes.

And there he was.

Jiraiya stood before him, just as Naruto remembered, towering, strong, with that same kind, mischievous smile tugging at his lips. His white hair gleamed in the fading light, his red haori rippling in the wind. But there was something else in his eyes—something Naruto had never seen before.

A sadness. A knowing.

He stared at Jiraiya, his heart aching, his throat tight. This was it. The last time he would ever see him. The last moment they would share, face to face.

Jiraiya smiled, and there was a warmth in that smile, the same warmth Naruto had clung to all those years ago. "There you are," he said, his voice filled with a quiet pride. "Look at you… you've come so far."

Naruto felt the tears slipping down his cheeks again, but this time he didn't try to stop them. He just stood there, drinking in the sight of his master, memorizing every line, every detail, every breath.

Jiraiya nodded, his smile never fading. "I wanted to see the face of the man you've become. The one who's going to change this world."

Naruto's lip quivered, his voice barely holding. "I'll make you proud, I swear… I'll do it."

"You already have," Jiraiya replied softly. His eyes went low, the weight of years and battles and wisdom all behind them. "You always have."

Naruto's vision blurred as more tears fell, but this time, he smiled through them. A small, broken smile, but real.

His master took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. "It's time, Naruto," he said, his voice steady. "Time for you to finish what you started. And time for me to rest."

"I will fight you… to make sure you can go," Naruto suddenly replied, his voice wavering slightly, though there were complications behind the words. He raised his hands, assuming a combat stance, his mind racing through the possibilities, the strategies he'd need to use. He wasn't sure where to even begin, but he knew his strengths. He had come a long way since the boy who had once clung to Jiraiya's every lesson. Now, he was the man who had saved his village, who had mastered the power of the Nine-Tails. But even with all that, the thought of facing his mentor filled him with both doubt and determination.

"No," Jiraiya said, his response confusing his student. "I already died once fighting. I think I'll go on my own."

Naruto's hands fell to his sides as Jiraiya spoke, the weight of those words sinking in. The Edo Tensei was an incredibly complex jutsu, designed to bind souls to the world of the living, but it wasn't perfect. It had weaknesses, vulnerabilities that could free the soul from its unnatural tether. One was to seal the resurrected, another to have the summoner release the jutsu. But there was a third option, rarely spoken of, yet just as effective. The reincarnated soul could achieve closure, allowing them to pass on their own.

Jiraiya, the Toad Sage, the Village's Madness, the Perverted Sage… had found his closure.

The blonde stood still, his heart heavy but calm, as he watched Jiraiya's form begin to lift into the air, his body glowing softly, as though the very essence of him was dissolving into the wind. He floated higher, weightless, his spirit finally at peace.

For one last time, Jiraiya looked down at Naruto, his expression soft, eyes filled with pride and warmth. "Keep writing your book," he said, the words carrying a weight beyond the surface. "I look forward to reading it when it's done. But don't rush it… never rush a good story."

Naruto's throat tightened as he tried to hold back the tears.

"Good bye..."

And then, with one final glance, Jiraiya's form dissolved into the sky, carried away by the wind, leaving behind only the silence of the battlefield.

Naruto stood there for a long time, staring at the empty space where his mentor had been. He wiped his face, took a deep breath, and turned back toward the world he still had to save.

The story wasn't finished yet.