When Sora returned to his small apartment, dawn was just breaking.
He waved to dispel the shadow clone in the bathroom.
Poof.
The clone turned into white smoke.
Perfect alibi.
Sora collapsed onto the bed, feeling the ultra-fast recovery from the Top-tier Uzumaki Physique rapidly dispel the exhaustion from creating a divine nation overnight.
Promoted to Jonin.
By Konoha tradition, it truly deserved celebration.
More importantly—this was the perfect chance to win hearts and solidify his core team.
These future pillars of his empire needed proper bonding.
He sat up, fully energized.
First—a real hot bath to relax tense nerves.
Poof! Poof! Poof! Poof!
Four shadow clones appeared in the room.
"Number One—invite Captain Kakashi. Tell him I've been promoted to Jonin and I'm hosting at Akimichi Barbecue tonight. Please honor me with your presence."
"Number Two—same message to Yamato-senpai."
"Number Three—go to the Uchiha compound for Itachi. He should be there. Keep it low-key—don't draw attention."
"Number Four—find Kaede-senpai. Be polite."
The four clones acknowledged and vanished instantly.
Sora nodded satisfied, changed into clean casual clothes, and hummed a tune toward the public bathhouse.
Sunshine perfect—streets bustling with life.
This illusion of peace was intoxicating.
Just as he turned into the alley for the bathhouse—a massive palm like a fan slammed onto his head.
The force squashed him half a head shorter.
"Brat—finally caught you."
A teasing voice laced with gritted teeth came from above.
Sora's heart sank.
This chakra…
He looked up—iconic white hair and a face screaming "I've been looking for you forever."
Toad Sage, Jiraiya.
Last time "gathering material" outside the women's bath—ruined by Sora's shout that summoned the Military Police. Rumor said he was chased eight streets, losing a shoe.
Troublesome "rare disc material"—delivered himself.
Sora instantly switched to harmless mode—amber eyes blinking with innocent confusion.
"Huh? Uncle, do you know me? Have we met somewhere?"
Playing dumb—optimal response.
Jiraiya's grip tightened, kneading Sora's head like a ball.
"Still pretending! Brat—I'd recognize you even as ashes!"
"Don't think the Anbu uniform fools me! Not many brats in Konoha as punchable as you!"
Anbu?
How'd he know Sora was Anbu?
Oh right—last time Sora wore Anbu uniform to the bathhouse.
Miscalculation.
"Aha! I remember now!" Sora slapped his thigh in "sudden realization." "Aren't you the legendary Sannin—the great Jiraiya-sama! Long admired your name! Meeting today—truly extraordinary presence!"
Flattery hits every time.
Jiraiya clearly ate it up—grip loosening, chest puffing proudly.
"Kid's got eyes! But don't think sweet words get you off!"
He leaned closer, glaring menacingly.
"That time! It was you—yelling outside the women's bath, ruining my inspiration, making me get…"
Sora instantly switched to teary-eyed remorse—eyes glistening.
"Jiraiya-sama, I was wrong! Truly wrong!"
He hugged Jiraiya's leg, wailing dramatically.
"I was young and ignorant—didn't know you were sacrificing for art! I deserve death! Please forgive me!"
The sudden scene threw Jiraiya off.
Passing villagers stared curiously, pointing.
"Isn't that Jiraiya-sama?"
"Who's the kid crying on his leg?"
"Looks like Jiraiya-sama bullied another child…"
Jiraiya's old face turned liver-red.
"Hey! Brat! Let go! What nonsense are you spouting!"
He tried shaking Sora off, but Sora clung like gum.
"No! Forgive me or I won't let go!" Sora wailed louder. "To atone, I'll do anything!"
"Really?" Jiraiya half-believed.
"Really!" Sora looked up—teary-eyed yet utterly sincere. "To apologize—tonight I'm hosting my Jonin promotion banquet at Akimichi Barbecue. I sincerely invite you to attend!"
"Promotion banquet?" Jiraiya froze.
"Yes!" Sora puffed chest proudly, patting his green vest. "This unworthy one just became Konoha Jonin—want you, great senior, to impart life wisdom!"
Jiraiya's single eye scanned Sora up and down.
Jonin this young?
And the kid went from bawling to beaming instantly?
Something felt off.
But "Jonin promotion banquet" and "impart wisdom" scratched his itch.
Free booze and meat—plus adulation.
*Cough.* Jiraiya cleared throat, loosening grip on Sora's head—assuming elder airs.
"Since you're so sincere—I'll give you face."
He paused, adding:
"But top-shelf sake, premium meat!"
Deal.
Sora inwardly grinned—face beaming brighter.
"Of course! All you can drink!"
Luring a legendary Sannin—cost one barbecue meal.
Blood profit.
Jiraiya—placated—waved grandly.
"Fine! I'll be there tonight! Don't stand me up, brat!"
He strode off six-relatives-denying style, humming—already anticipating the feast.
Watching his back, Sora's smile grew meaningful.
Sage Mode.
Summoning Technique.
And that elusive intel network.
Jiraiya—this walking "rare disc library"—reserved.
Sora fixed his mussed hair and entered the bathhouse.
Warm water enveloped him.
He sighed comfortably, leaning back—eyes closed.
Everything—perfectly following his script.
He merely enjoyed the process—awaiting bloom.
After bath—refreshed—clones successively dispelled, reporting successful invitations.
Kakashi grumbled "troublesome" but accepted.
Yamato happily agreed.
Itachi took effort but came.
As for Kaede-senpai…
"She said congratulations, brat. Then agreed."
Good.
Empire's embryonic form—tonight in barbecue smoke—first gathering.
Sora's mood—unprecedented joy.
He reached Akimichi Barbecue, reserved largest private room.
Then sat on bench outside—sunbathing, leisurely awaiting guests.
First: Kakashi.
Still half-asleep—one hand in pocket, one holding Intimate Paradise—lazily approaching.
"Yo, Sora—congrats."
Brief congratulations.
"Captain, you're early!"
Sora stood from bench, welcoming with perfect surprise.
Kakashi closed book, stowing in pouch.
"Nothing else to do."
No more words. Sora led him to reserved room.
Soon, door slid open.
Yamato entered—warm smile, clearly pleased seeing Sora and Kakashi.
"Sora, congratulations on Jonin. Senior Kakashi—you're here too."
"Yamato-senpai, please sit!" Sora greeted enthusiastically.
Yamato's arrival warmed the slightly quiet room. He was the reassuring type.
Next—a striking figure at door.
Yamanaka Kaede leaned on frame—golden hair gleaming under lights, arms crossed—leisurely sizing Sora.
"Yo, brat—pretty fast. Already Jonin?"
"Kaede-senpai, don't tease." Sora scratched head sheepishly. "Come in, sit!"
Kaede chuckled lightly, entering gracefully—naturally taking seat beside Sora.
Atmosphere livened with her presence.
Last arrival—silenced everyone momentarily.
Uchiha Itachi.
Still utterly calm—black eyes deep as ancient wells.
His presence carried invisible pressure.
"Itachi—you came!" Sora acted oblivious—happily standing, pulling him to seat on other side.
"Congratulations."
Even briefer than Kakashi.
Kakashi, Yamato, Kaede, Itachi.
Anbu-era teammates—future empire pillars.
Today—all present.
Sora gazed at these familiar yet complex faces—important puzzle pieces firmly placed on his inner map.
Just as he prepared to speak—
Door slammed open violently.
"Hahahaha! The great one arrives!"
Jiraiya burst in hauling crates of sake—booming laugh nearly shaking dust from ceiling.
He spotted Kakashi instantly.
"Huh?" Jiraiya paused, pointing at Kakashi then beaming Sora. "Kakashi? You're this brat's student?"
"This" naturally meant Sora.
Kakashi's dead-fish eye showed rare helplessness.
"Jiraiya-sama."
Yamato and Kaede stood immediately—respectful bows.
Itachi merely nodded slightly.
"Why is Jiraiya-sama here?" Yamato voiced everyone's question.
A legendary Sannin—at a new Jonin's celebration?
"Hahaha, well…" Jiraiya's gaze circled Sora—preparing casual excuse.
Kaede asked curiously: "Jiraiya-sama, how do you know Sora?"
All eyes focused on Jiraiya.
His old face stiffened.
Can't say: because peeping women's bath—ruined by this brat's shout—so we met?
His Sannin reputation?
*Cough!* Jiraiya cleared throat, slinging arm around Sora—wise-mentor pose.
"I saw this kid's ninjutsu talent—rare gem! Wanted to teach him a few techniques—guide the younger generation!"
Excuse—he felt guilty saying.
Unexpectedly.
Kakashi nodded seriously, adding:
"Indeed."
He looked at Jiraiya.
"Sora's the best five-nature user I've seen besides the Third Hokage. All elements at fingertips—combo ninjutsu endless. Astonishing talent."
This stunned Jiraiya.
He'd just made excuse—turns out the kid's talent truly monstrous?
Even Kakashi said so?
Opportunity!
Sora's mind flashed two bold words.
He instantly slipped Jiraiya's arm, grabbing his sleeve instead—amber eyes sparkling with worship and expectation.
"Jiraiya-sama! You'll really teach me ninjutsu?"
"Uh, well…" Jiraiya hesitated.
He'd just said it casually!
Seeing hesitation, Sora's smile unchanged—muttering only they could hear:
"Ah, that night's bathhouse moonlight was lovely—steamy… wonder if Military Police caught that pee…"
"Deal sealed!"
Jiraiya slapped thigh, cutting Sora off—voice booming, righteous.
"Genius needs stronger teacher guidance! Konoha's fine tradition!"
Sora's smile exploded—he climbed the pole lest regret.
"Great! Tomorrow afternoon—Training Ground Three. Don't be late!"
Time and place crystal clear.
"One word!" Jiraiya gritted teeth.
He felt like he'd fallen into a premeditated pit.
Done.
Sora inwardly victory-signed, releasing sleeve—back to gracious host.
He raised cup, standing.
"Thank you all—senpai and comrades—for attending my promotion banquet!"
"Captain Kakashi, Yamato-nii, Kaede-senpai, Itachi—we lived and died together in Anbu. This bond—I'll never forget!"
"And Jiraiya-sama! Thank you for recognition and guidance!"
Sora's speech—watertight: valuing comrades, flattering Jiraiya.
"From now—we fight shoulder-to-shoulder! I hope in days ahead—we trust, support each other—guard Konoha together!"
"I, Akashi Sora—toast everyone!"
"May our future—like this sake—rich and enduring!"
He drained it.
Stirring words drew approving looks from Yamato and Kaede.
Kakashi remained lazy but sipped.
Itachi silently finished his tea.
Jiraiya—flattered—laughed heartily, downing his.
"Good! Well said!"
Atmosphere fully heated.
Barbecue aroma mingled with alcohol in the room.
Sora didn't stop.
He personally refilled Jiraiya, Yamato, and Itachi's cups.
Three brimming.
"Jiraiya-sama—legendary Sannin, bottomless capacity! Drink freely tonight!"
"Yamato-nii—you always cared for me—this cup must!"
"And Itachi!" Sora raised his cup, amber eyes meeting depthless black. "Same age, comrades—no need formal!"
One hand held his cup; others pressed theirs—inviting gesture.
Refuse-this-and-we're-not-done stance made Jiraiya roar laughter; Yamato helpless.
Only Itachi—gazed at overflowing sake, then Sora's blinding smile.
He silently lifted cup.
Sora grinned wide—clinking lightly with each.
"Here's to brighter future! Cheers!"
Clear clinks rang in noisy room.
Three rounds drink, five courses food.
Akimichi private room—mess.
Empty plates piled; dozen+ sake bottles strewn.
Jiraiya red-faced—one foot on bench, half-bottle in hand—slurring young hero tales.
Yamato tipsy—straight posture but glassy eyes—silly grinning.
Kaede unfazed—chin on hand, amused watching Jiraiya's antics—occasional light laugh.
Kakashi face-covered with Intimate Paradise—corner lean—sleeping or faking?
Itachi's teacup refilled seven-eight times.
Sora cheeks flushed—amber eyes watery bright under lights—smiling at scene, inwardly calculating.
Good.
Successful team-building for cohesion.
Legendary Sannin, future Hokage, Wood Release user, Yamanaka intel expert, Uchiha prodigy.
Empire core team—first preliminary bonding in barbecue smoke and alcohol.
"Burp…" Jiraiya loud belch—wobbly standing. "Can't… anymore! Atmosphere too pure—not for my art!"
He grabbed "sleeping" Kakashi.
"Go! Kakashi! Good place! Experience Konoha nightlife—find next novel inspiration!"
Kakashi yanked up—helplessly pulling book off face, revealing dead-fish eye.
"Jiraiya-sama, mission tomorrow…"
"Missions less important than inspiration!" Jiraiya righteous—arm around shoulder dragging out. "Not for kids! Adults only!"
His booming voice—whole restaurant heard.
Sora watched them shoulder-to-shoulder leave—one pervert, one reluctant.
Odd duo.
Jiraiya gone—room quieter.
Yamato stood—apologetic smile to Sora: "Sora, congrats. I… should go. Report to Hokage tomorrow."
"Yamato-nii, safe travels." Sora saw him out.
Kaede stretched—graceful curves on display.
"Brat, thanks for treat. Big sis needs beauty sleep."
Itachi silently rose—slight nod to Sora.
"I'll walk you, Kaede-senpai." Sora—perfect tipsy cheerful smile.
Kaede reached door—turned, golden hair flashing light. Eyes scanned Sora teasingly.
"Oh? Want to walk me home?"
Voice lazy magnetic—tail drawn out.
"Got ideas about big sis?"
Remaining Itachi paused.
Sora scratched head—youthful shy: "Senpai drank a lot—I'm worried."
"Giggle…" Kaede laughed at innocent act. "Brat, you're too green. Big sis's thoughts—too complex for you."
Adult teasing tone.
"Still—I'll walk you." Sora insisted. "Junior duty to senior."
He—poof.
Shadow clone appeared beside—identical sunny smile.
"My clone will walk you—okay now?"
Real body safety—always priority. Especially night alone with unpredictable intel expert.
Kaede eyed clone, then Sora—deeper amusement.
This brat—always cautious.
"Fine. Thanks." No more refusal.
Itachi nodded farewell to Sora—flickered away.
"Then, senpai—let's go." Clone politely gestured "after you."
Kaede followed clone into night.
Room—only Sora's real body.
Smile slowly faded—amber eyes clear, no drunkenness.
He tidied mess, paid bill—then leisurely left restaurant.
Night breeze cool on face.
Comfortable.
Poof.
Mental light sound—clone dispelled.
Massive memories flooded.
Escorted Kaede home.
Polite goodbye.
Then…
Soft warm touch on clone's forehead.
"Thanks, brat. Good night."
Kaede's smiling voice—still echoing.
Sora unconsciously touched his forehead.
That spot—faint lingering fragrance and warmth.
Loss.
Not real body.
Thought rose—instantly crushed.
No.
Gain.
Used disposable clone—tested her favor boundary.
Profitable trade.
Just… feeling slightly out of control.
Sora shook head—discarding stray thought—heading apartment.
…
Uchiha compound.
Deep night—silent.
Itachi's figure silently appeared in family courtyard.
He opened door—preparing room.
"You're back."
Authoritative low voice from dark living room.
Itachi paused.
Turned—to seated figure like silent mountain.
His father—Uchiha clan head—Uchiha Fugaku.
"Father." Itachi bowed slightly.
Click.
Fugaku lit desk oil lamp.
Dim yellow light deepened stern face's nasolabial folds—traces of years.
Gaze fell on Itachi.
"You drank."
Statement.
Fugaku eyed proud son—faint sake and barbecue scent—unprecedented.
"First time seeing you like this. What happened?"
"Anbu teammate's promotion banquet." Itachi concise.
"Oh?" Fugaku leaned forward—interested. "Who? Tell me."
"Akashi Sora. Promoted Jonin today."
Akashi Sora.
Fugaku searched memory.
War orphan, commoner—no background.
Yet Jonin at thirteen.
"I heard even Jiraiya-sama attended?" Fugaku's intel ever-sharp.
"Yes."
Fugaku's fingers tapped desk—regular thud thud.
Room—only that monotonous sound.
"Commoner—no bloodline—yet Jonin this young."
"Favored by Third, even caught Jiraiya's eye."
Fugaku's gaze grew distant.
"Last one like that—was Namikaze Minato."
Next Fourth Hokage.
Thought flashed in Fugaku's mind.
Konoha power center—too long without Uchiha voice.
This Akashi Sora boy—perhaps opportunity.
Pullable future strong ally.
"Itachi." Fugaku stopped tapping—black eyes like Itachi's fixed on son.
"Build good relations with him."
"Commoner—no clan ties. Such people—given enough benefit and respect—easiest to become our… friends."
Fugaku's words—undeniable.
Clan head order to heir—concerning clan future.
Itachi stood in shadow—silent moment.
Lamp lit only half his calm face.
"Yes, Father."