Jiraiya laughed heartily, without a trace of shame—on the contrary, he looked quite proud, as if he had found the perfect metaphor for finding joy amid hardship.
Seeing him grinning like a mischievous child in his forties, Orochimaru couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth. Suddenly, a memory surfaced—Kushina's dying words to Naruto: the three taboos for a ninja—no alcohol, no women, no extravagance. And then, an added fourth: "Jiraiya."
Looking at Jiraiya now, Orochimaru couldn't disagree. Kushina hadn't been wrong. The man was anything but serious. The fact that the old man helped raise Naruto, and the result was this man, was almost ironic.
But really, Orochimaru was overthinking it. Jiraiya didn't cause Naruto to turn out the way he did. How could a ninja genius who invented the Harem Technique at twelve years old, and even defeated high-level enemies with it, not end up a little perverted?
After the laughter died down, Jiraiya noticed Orochimaru still standing there and invited him inside.
Orochimaru stepped into the home, glancing around before giving a faint nod. It was surprisingly clean. Though Jiraiya was known for being unkempt, he'd clearly made an effort. Living alone was one thing, but doing so while taking care of a baby? Orochimaru had to admit—Jiraiya was managing.
But just barely.
Despite being one of the strongest ninja alive, Jiraiya had no real advantage over ordinary people when it came to handling a baby's needs. In fact, his lack of gentle touch often made things worse. Naruto cried often because of it.
Of course, Jiraiya couldn't exactly solve the problem with a Rasengan. So, like any tired guardian, he had to suck it up and get used to it.
Bittersweet joy—the phrase wasn't a lie.
After leading Orochimaru to the living room, Jiraiya quickly returned to Naruto to finish the diaper change. Wipe, replace, clean—he moved with the speed and efficiency of someone who'd done this a hundred times.
The stench in the room made Orochimaru wrinkle his nose slightly. With a soft whisper, he summoned a breeze that pushed the foul air out through the window.
He'd smelled worse—on battlefields, during dissections—but in peacetime, there was no reason to torture himself unnecessarily.
Jiraiya noticed the breeze and scratched his head. "You really get used to the smell after a while."
"The old man really has you doing this?" Orochimaru asked as he pulled out a chair and poured himself tea without waiting for permission.
"You're raising the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki. Why not just hire a nanny?"
"Hire who?" Jiraiya sighed as he picked up Naruto and sat down.
"Don't underestimate this little guy. He might be just a baby, but his instincts are sharper than most adults. He knows if someone means harm—and if they fear him."
"I can't trust a regular person who knows nothing. But if someone does know about the Nine-Tails, then... well, that's even worse."
"Even Kakashi, for all his strength, still feels pressure around Naruto. And as for Gai—sure, he wouldn't make Naruto cry, but there's no way I'd trust him to raise a kid."
Jiraiya looked down at Naruto, who was happily drinking his milk, and sighed again.
Orochimaru's expression shifted with interest. "So… beast instincts, huh? Let me try."
Jiraiya raised an eyebrow. "You? Let's not. He's peaceful for once—don't ruin it by making him cry."
Jiraiya didn't hold any prejudice against Orochimaru. In fact, it was because he understood Orochimaru so well that he was confident in predicting exactly how this would go.
"Heh..." Orochimaru narrowed his eyes, amused. "Then you should know—whether I touch him or not, I can still make him cry."
Jiraiya stared him down, but of course, that kind of glare held no weight against Orochimaru. Realizing this himself, Jiraiya muttered under his breath, "You're a grown man, still competing like a child."
Even so, he handed Naruto over. He knew Orochimaru well—once he made up his mind, no amount of arguing would change it. Best to let him see for himself.
And, as Jiraiya expected, the moment Naruto was in Orochimaru's arms, he stopped drinking milk and immediately began to squirm and flail his arms and legs in protest.
"See? Told you so." Jiraiya stood up, ready to take Naruto back before the boy started crying—but then, he froze in shock.
Orochimaru glanced sideways at him, a gentle smile forming on his lips. His tone was uncharacteristically warm. "Seems that instinct of his isn't so infallible after all—it can be deceived."
Amazingly, Naruto had stopped struggling. His round eyes were wide, but he looked calmer than he usually did.
Jiraiya blinked, glancing between Naruto and Orochimaru. Something didn't feel right. Orochimaru's entire presence felt... different, unrecognizable, even.
But it wasn't Orochimaru. Not really.
It was the entity posing as him—Djinn, the "lamp spirit" hiding behind Orochimaru's face. Smiling down at Naruto, Djinn radiated warmth and kindness. Whatever subtle cues Naruto had sensed earlier were gone now, replaced with a deceptive sense of comfort. The child even seemed to be forming a bond with him.
Jiraiya watched, almost jealous. I was here first...
Djinn, of course, didn't feel the need to gloat. His mimicry skills could replicate more than just abilities—they could copy expressions, tone, presence. And with the gentle temperament of someone like Tanjiro Kamado at his disposal, winning over an instinct-driven baby like Naruto wasn't exactly hard.
In fact, when Naruto grew older, deceiving him wouldn't even require mimicry. Mizuki had proven that. All it took was exploiting Naruto's hunger for love and belonging—he'd willingly blind himself to danger just for a taste of affection.
Just like now.
With a slight smirk, Djinn licked his lips, then produced a syringe from his robes. Without hesitation, he inserted it into Naruto's shoulder and began drawing blood.
Jiraiya snapped out of his stunned state. The moment he saw the syringe, his expression darkened. He instinctively wanted to shout, but seeing Naruto still calm in Orochimaru's arms, he forced himself to stay composed.
"Orochimaru, what do you think you're doing?" he asked in a low, tense voice.
"Relax. I'm not trying to hurt him," Djinn replied with a placid smile. "Even at this age, he has the Uzumaki clan's vitality. A bit of blood loss won't harm him."
Jiraiya growled, "That doesn't make it okay."
"It's not just your call to make," Djinn said casually, tucking the syringe away. "This little guy didn't object—why are you so upset?"
Jiraiya looked again. Naruto was quiet, gazing up at a pair of unfamiliar blue eyes. No crying, no panic. As if the pain didn't even register.
Unbelievable.
Unable to lash out, Jiraiya could only suppress his frustration. He spoke in a low, resigned tone, "He's still too young to understand what's going on. Just... let it slide this time. But don't use this as an excuse again."
Djinn nodded with a pleasant smile, saying nothing more.
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