Chapter 488: Is This Heaven?

Everything felt like a distant and hazy dream.

When Jiraiya’s consciousness struggled to surface from the boundless darkness and cold, and he felt the weight of his body and the softness of the bed once more, he opened his eyes slowly and with some difficulty.

The blinding white light made him subconsciously squint, and only after adapting for a moment could he see his surroundings clearly.

It was a clean and tidy room, permeated with the faint scent of disinfectant.

White walls, a white ceiling, and... the white quilt covering him.

He tried to move his body, and a wave of weakness washed over him, but what surprised him even more was—

His left hand, the one severed during the fierce battle against the Six Paths of Pain, was now perfectly intact and reattached to his left arm; aside from a layer of bandages, there was nothing unusual about it.

"This..."

Jiraiya suddenly propped up his upper body with his right hand and, in disbelief, lifted his left hand, repeatedly checking it, clenching it into a fist, and releasing it.

The real sensation told him this was no hallucination; his left hand had truly returned!

Ecstasy, confusion, bewilderment... various emotions intertwined, leaving Jiraiya momentarily at a loss.

Just then, he caught a glimpse of the bedside out of the corner of his eye.

A figure with brilliant long blonde hair was sleeping slumped over the side of the bed.

She was lying on her side, resting on her arm, long eyelashes casting a small shadow beneath her eyelids, her breathing steady and deep.

That face was so familiar, so familiar it was etched into his heart, the face that had captivated him.

"Is this... Heaven?"

Jiraiya muttered to himself, his voice dry and hoarse.

He scratched his hair with his right hand, trying to sort through this chaotic situation.

It was only while scratching his hair that he belatedly realized something.

His throat and vocal cords, which had been severely damaged and rendered almost mute after being struck by the Naraka Path Pain, were now able to produce sound normally.

Although still a bit hoarse, he could indeed speak.

Severed arm regenerated, serious injuries healed, voice restored...

All these incredible "miracles" made Jiraiya even more convinced of his guess:

This place must undoubtedly be Heaven!

He had heard a theory before: after a writer dies, their Soul goes into the world they created.

Then, that meant he was currently in the world of Icha Icha Paradise?

That would be truly amazing!

Jiraiya’s heart was instantly filled with immense joy and a certain lecherous fantasy of "having his wish fulfilled."

The world of Icha Icha Paradise!

He could almost imagine those steamy scenes!

Thinking of this, Jiraiya couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, a lecherous grin appearing on his face.

He cautiously leaned his upper body closer to the woman by the bedside who "looked exactly like Tsunade."

However, just as he leaned in close enough to see the fine fuzz on her face, the smile on his face slowly faded.

He saw the faint bluish-black circles under her eyelids, traces of long-term sleep deprivation.

He saw her brows, slightly furrowed even in sleep, as if bearing endless exhaustion and worry.

He smelled the faint scent of hospital disinfectant on her, along with a trace of... a familiar aura.

This feeling... was too real. So real that... it didn’t feel like an imagined, perfect "creation of Heaven."

Jiraiya was silent for a moment.

He reached out, as quietly as possible, and took the green coat draped over the footrail of the bed, carefully draping it over Tsunade.

"Although this is the world of Icha Icha Paradise..."

Jiraiya whispered to himself, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible, as if afraid to disturb the sleeping woman.

"But I, Lord Jiraiya, am not the type of guy to take advantage of someone."

He smiled self-deprecatingly, a flash of complex emotion crossing his eyes.

Perhaps, even in Heaven, he hoped to face a real Tsunade.

No one could replace Tsunade; no matter how much they looked like her, it was impossible.

After doing all this, Jiraiya felt a wave of intense weakness and dizziness wash over him.

He lay back down on the bed, gasping for air, feeling as if all his strength had been drained away.

"Is it because I just arrived in this world and haven’t adapted yet?"

Jiraiya thought to himself and closed his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing.

Just then, the door to the room was gently pushed open.

A slender figure in white clothing, with a head of silky black hair, walked in silently.

The person’s long hair was simply tied back with a hair tie, hanging down their back, their gait light and elegant.

If one only looked at the back, this was definitely a mature beauty full of charm, perhaps even with a bit of a "housewife" vibe.

Jiraiya’s heart, having just calmed down a little, began to beat faster again, and his eyes involuntarily darted over, his mind instantly flashing with countless classic tropes that might appear in Icha Icha Paradise.

However, the moment that figure seemed to sense his gaze and slowly turned around.

Jiraiya’s expectant expression, born of his wandering thoughts, instantly froze, then quickly receded like a retreating tide, replaced by an expression of shock as if he had seen a ghost.

Because, the face that turned around.

Pale skin, golden slit pupils, purple eyeshadow extending to the sides of the nose, and a familiar, slightly mocking curve at the corners of the mouth that made one’s spine chill...

Orochimaru!

"You’re awake?"

Orochimaru’s hoarse and magnetic voice rang out, carrying a hint of mockery and understanding.

He had clearly noticed Jiraiya’s "peeping" gaze from just a moment ago, as well as the "misunderstanding" contained within it.

"..."

Jiraiya opened his mouth, but couldn’t make a sound.

The muscles on his face twitched, and his eyes were filled with the confusion and breakdown of "Who am I? Where am I? Why is there an Orochimaru in Heaven?"

Orochimaru looked at Jiraiya’s state and let out a laugh of exasperation. His golden snake-like pupils narrowed slightly, and his tone carried undisguised mockery: "What? Are you disappointed to see it’s me?"

He had clearly guessed that Jiraiya had mistaken him for a woman just now, and might have even entertained some unrealistic fantasies.

"Although for Tsunade and me, it has been over ten years since we last saw you."

Orochimaru walked to the side of the hospital bed, picked up the medical chart hanging at the foot of the bed, and looked at it. "But for a guy like you, the last time you saw Tsunade was just a short while ago, right? Before you went to the Land of Rain?"

Jiraiya nodded with difficulty, still in a state of immense shock and cognitive dissonance, unable to organize his thoughts into words.

"Um... where is this?"

Jiraiya finally regained his voice and asked hoarsely, his gaze unable to help but scan back and forth between Orochimaru and the sleeping Tsunade, trying to make sense of this absurd reality.

"Hidden Leaf Village."

Orochimaru was concise, putting down the medical chart and beginning to skillfully prepare medical instruments. "To be precise, it is Hidden Leaf Village more than ten years after your ’death’."

"After... death? More than ten years?"

Jiraiya repeated mutely, feeling the sheer volume of information was too much for his brain to process.

"The current Hokage is Seventh Hokage, Uzumaki Naruto."

Orochimaru added, his tone flat, as if he were commenting on the nice weather today.

"Uzumaki... Naruto..."

Hearing this name, Jiraiya felt a moment of trance.

That mischievous kid with yellow hair who used to shout about wanting to be Hokage, that Disciple he believed to be the Child of Prophecy until the very last moment... has already... become Hokage?

An unspeakable, complex emotion welled up in his heart—gratification, pride, regret, and a sense of melancholy at how time flies.

"Is that so..."

Jiraiya’s voice was somewhat low.

"Then, his journey... must have been very spectacular."

It must have been full of hardships, challenges, laughter, and tears; it must have been a magnificent epic.

And he had missed so much.

"It was indeed spectacular."

Orochimaru nodded, his hands continuing to move, starting to disinfect Jiraiya’s arm and locate a vein.

"I will tell you later, but for now, you need to recover your strength."

He picked up a bottle of glucose for an IV drip, hung it on the IV stand at the head of Jiraiya’s bed, then tied a rubber tube tightly around Jiraiya’s arm, tapped it, found the vein, and skillfully inserted the needle.

"You cannot eat yet."

Orochimaru said unhurriedly while adjusting the IV drip rate.

"We can only use glucose to maintain your bodily functions for now. In two days, after your gastrointestinal function recovers a bit, you can eat liquid food. Then, after another period of time, you will be able to eat normally."

"However, I am not a professional doctor."

Orochimaru glanced at Jiraiya, then shifted his gaze to Tsunade, who was still sleeping by the bed, his tone carrying a rare note of complexity.

"From now on, you’re in Tsunade’s hands."

He paused, looking at Tsunade’s side profile, which looked uneasy even in sleep, and continued:

"Ever since Naruto from the other world brought you back, Tsunade has stayed by your side almost every step of the way."

Orochimaru’s voice lowered slightly, as if he didn’t want to wake Tsunade. "She even used Hashirama cells to regrow and reattach an arm for you."

"Fortunately, you were sent here in time, and your throat was also healed by her."

Orochimaru added at the end.

"Otherwise, you might still be a mute right now."

Jiraiya listened quietly, his gaze slowly shifting from Orochimaru to the face of the sleeping Tsunade by the bed.

Her long blonde hair was draped messily, and her face, which was usually vibrant or imposing, now showed only exhaustion and vulnerability, with the fine lines around her eyes seeming deeper than in his memories.

More than ten years...

Naruto from another world?

Brought him back?

An arm made of Hashirama cells?

Tsunade’s constant vigil?

Piece by piece, the information assembled in Jiraiya’s increasingly clear mind like a puzzle.

This was not Heaven, nor was it the world of Icha Icha Paradise.

This was reality, it was the Hidden Leaf Village he had once fought for, it was the future more than ten years later,

and the one who pulled him back from the brink of death was Naruto from another world.

The one who regrew his arm, healed his throat, and kept watch day and night was the woman he had chased his entire life.

And the guy in front of him, wearing a white lab coat and speaking with a cold tone, was Orochimaru.

Being alive... is truly good.

Jiraiya slowly closed his eyes, and a tear slid quietly from the corner of his eye, disappearing into the white hair at his temples.

Outside the window, the sunlight in Hidden Leaf Village was just right.

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