Truly... magnificent.
Sora returned his house, standing in the dim storage room.
He spread his hand—a small handful of golden dust appeared out of thin air, glowing faintly and alluringly in the darkness.
Money.
The hardest currency in this world.
With it, his path to the Hokage throne would be paved with gold.
Sora contentedly put away the placer gold, opened the storage room door—the shadow clone outside still intently studying *Intimate Paradise*.
He dispelled the clone; a jumble of "artistic" insights flooded his mind.
Sora rubbed his temples, discarding the useless knowledge.
In a great mood—he should go for a walk.
And think about how to reasonably and covertly implement the "Magnet Release money printer" project.
He changed into clean casual clothes and stepped out.
Perfect sunshine, bustling streets full of life's vibrancy.
Sora hands in pockets, strolled leisurely—aimlessly wandering.
He loved this feeling.
Manipulating the entire world behind the scenes while remaining that harmless sunny boy on the surface.
Walking along, a wave of hot steam mixed with sulfur and soap hit him.
He looked up.
Konoha Baths—Women's Section.
The massive "Women" sign hung prominently at the entrance.
Sora instinctively prepared to detour.
Then his peripheral vision caught a familiar, sneaky white figure.
The man was perched on a gap in the women's bath outer wall—on tiptoes, peeking, posture sleazy, movements practiced—like a repeat offender.
Jiraiya.
Him again.
Was this his spawn point?
Sora felt veins throbbing at his temple.
One of the legendary Sannin, the famed Toad Sage—why such a deep obsession with women's baths?
Was this distortion of humanity or moral decay?
Sora inwardly ranted furiously but changed direction to slip away quietly.
He wanted no entanglement with this troublesome guy.
"Hey, kid!"
Too late.
Jiraiya turned as if eyes grew on the back of his head—catching Sora mid-escape, eyes meeting.
No embarrassment at being caught—instead a bold, familiar grin.
"What a coincidence! Here for research too?"
Research my ass!
Sora inwardly cursed but flashed his standard energetic smile.
"Lord Jiraiya! What a coincidence! I was just passing by!"
He backed away, trying to create safe distance.
"Passing by? Perfect timing!"
Jiraiya bounded over in a few steps, slamming a heavy hand on Sora's shoulder.
The force made Sora's bones groan.
"Kid, I heard." Jiraiya leaned in, face mysteriously gossipy.
"You ran into quite the spectacle in Sunagakure?"
News travels fast.
Worthy of the ninja world's top paparazzo boss.
Sora inwardly noted, face shifting to appropriate lingering fear.
"Yeah! Lord Jiraiya—you wouldn't believe it!"
"We'd just arrived when that monster called the One-Tail went berserk! Huge tanuki—like a mountain! Terrifying!"
He exaggerated with dramatic gestures—perfectly portraying a traumatized boy.
Seeing Sora like this, Jiraiya puffed his chest proudly, bursting into laughter.
"Hahahaha! The One-Tail?"
"Just a worthless mutt!"
His laughter boomed, drawing stares from passersby.
"In front of this Toad Sage Jiraiya—that thing isn't fit to carry my shoes!"
Bold boasting.
But true.
In Sage Mode, an unreleased Shukaku was indeed no match.
Sora knew it clearly but timely showed starry-eyed admiration.
"Wow! Lord Jiraiya is amazing!"
The flattery soothed Jiraiya completely.
He looked at Sora—small eyes gleaming with "teachable" satisfaction.
Time for the main topic after all this buildup.
Jiraiya cleared his throat, expression turning serious.
He removed his hand from Sora's shoulder, stepping back to a respectful distance.
This sudden shift made Sora's heart skip.
Here it comes.
"Kid."
Still "kid"—but the tone entirely different.
"I've seen your talent."
"From the summoning last time to everything you've shown—you're a once-in-a-century genius."
"But talent alone isn't enough."
Jiraiya looked at him, enunciating.
"Without proper guidance, even the finest jade stays buried in dust—becoming ordinary."
"You need a real teacher."
Sora listened quietly.
He'd guessed what was coming.
Sure enough.
Next second, Jiraiya stepped forward—voice low and enticing.
"So, kid."
"Want to formally take me as your master?"
"Become my direct disciple—Jiraiya's personal student!"
He spread his arms as if embracing a grand future.
"Nod—and I'll teach you everything!"
"I'll teach you true Sage Arts! The ultimate power above all ninjutsu—that makes tailed beasts flee in terror!"
Sage Arts?
True Sage Arts?
Sora's brain overclocked instantly.
Jiraiya—one of the Sannin, Fourth Hokage's teacher, future protagonist's guide.
His weight was undeniable.
Sage Arts—the ultimate power from natural energy, above standard ninjutsu.
Hashirama suppressed the Nine-Tails with it, pacifying chaos.
Minato became the Yellow Flash without it—his greatest regret.
And this Jiraiya was one of the few living masters of complete Sage Art inheritance.
This apprenticeship offer was a pie falling from heaven.
Gold-rimmed, with a lifetime meal ticket.
Refuse?
Only an idiot would.
Sora's rational scale tipped completely in 0.01 seconds.
Apprentice!
Must apprentice!
Fastest, most resolute—to lock it in before this whimsical guy changed his mind!
Under Jiraiya's expectant gaze.
Sora's expression underwent a masterful transformation.
From initial shock to disbelief, ecstasy, finally near-pilgrim devotion.
Thud!
Knees bent—he knelt cleanly.
Fluid, no hesitation.
This kneel stunned Jiraiya.
"Hey? Kid, what are you doing!"
Jiraiya instinctively reached to pull him up.
But Sora moved faster.
He bowed low—head thudding heavily on the ground.
"Master above!"
"Please accept your disciple Akashi Sora's first bow!"
His voice loud, passionate—full of youthful innocence and fervor.
As if Jiraiya wasn't a peeping pervert but a world-saving bodhisattva.
This blocked all Jiraiya's retreats.
His outstretched hand froze mid-air.
Help up or not?
The kid went full prostration—if he pushed away now, word spreading would ruin his heroic image.
Arrogant? Disdaining juniors?
No way.
His grand Toad Sage persona couldn't take the hit!
Jiraiya's face flickered—finally a helpless sigh.
"Alright, alright—get up."
"A real man doesn't kneel so easily."
"From today—you're my direct disciple!"
He finally admitted it verbally.
"Yes! Master!"
Sora's head snapped up—brightest, most sincere smile.
He even exaggeratedly wiped nonexistent excited tears with his sleeve.
Then he leaped up—movements so swift Jiraiya blinked.
He sidled up to Jiraiya—amber eyes gleaming with knowledge hunger.
"Master! When do we start Sage Arts?"
"Going to Mount Myōboku now? Or need a special ritual?"
"I'm dying to learn that ultimate power that terrifies tailed beasts!"
His eager thirst satisfied Jiraiya's vanity immensely.
"Ahem!"
Jiraiya cleared his throat, resuming dignified master pose.
"Sage Art training is no small matter—can't rush it."
He wagged a finger.
"First—you need the strongest foundation."
"Foundation from life, observation, deepest insight into all things."
Profound, philosophical words.
Sora nodded repeatedly—face full of awe.
"So..."
Jiraiya shifted—mysterious, profound smile.
"No rush, no rush."
"After I... finish this research phase."
With that.
He turned, sneaking back to the sinful wall.
Posture and angle—heartbreakingly practiced.
Sora: "..."
His smile froze.
All that kneeling and kowtowing—for nothing?
Your "deepest insight into all things" means peeping women's baths?
What demonic training!
Nameless rage surged.
Ultimate rationality said endure.
He's master now—Sage Arts not yet obtained; flipping now harms more than helps.
But...
He glanced at the massive "Women" sign.
Then Jiraiya's engrossed pose—even pulling out paper and pen to note.
No.
Can't endure!
World can end—but Jiraiya's peeping must die!
A wild, Konoha-shaking idea flashed.
He quietly backed two steps—safe distance from Jiraiya.
Deep breath—all chakra to throat.
Next second.
A justice-filled shout thundered across the street.
"Help!"
"There's a pervert peeping at the women's bath!!!"
Chakra-enhanced—piercing, audible hundreds of meters.
Jiraiya on the wall froze.
Pen and notebook clattered down.
Air solidified.
One second.
Two.
"Eeeeeek!!!"
Screams erupted from inside—ear-piercing.
Followed by crashing bottles and angry curses.
Passersby stopped—staring in shock and disdain at the white-haired man still posed.
Done.
Jiraiya's brain blanked.
Countless gazes—contempt, anger, gossip excitement—stabbed his back like needles.
He stiffly turned.
Meeting his new "beloved" disciple's pure, innocent smile.
Then the little devil bolted!
Speed leaving only an afterimage!
"You! Brat!"
Three words ground through teeth.
Rage swallowed reason.
Ultimate social death shame fueled infinite power.
He stomped—leaping skyward, rooftop sprinting after Sora.
"Stop right there!"
Furious roar echoed over Konoha.
"Stop right there!"
The enraged roar echoed over Konoha, startling birds.
Sora raced across rooftops—wind tousling his flaxen hair.
He even glanced back leisurely.
Jiraiya—messy white hair, colorful women's underwear dangling—chasing with roof-shattering fury.
"Hahahaha!"
Sora burst laughing.
Teetering on death's edge, successfully enraging a legendary Sannin—too novel.
"You dare laugh!"
Roar louder behind.
Jiraiya sealed—white hair exploding into countless sharp spikes sweeping toward Sora.
"Wild Lion's Mane Technique!"
Going serious.
Sora's smile tempered—but speed increased.
No turning—relying on keen observation and space sense, finding the sole path through the needle sea.
His body twisted impossibly.
Each step precisely in gaps.
Each dodge narrowly avoiding fatal clusters.
Like a slippery fish in stormy seas.
Jiraiya chased—growing shocked.
This kid's speed—outrageously fast.
Not just speed.
Every move predictive—as if foreseeing attacks.
Battle control unlike any thirteen-year-old!
Jiraiya's rage cooled in shock—replaced by deepening interest.
He'd see this brat's limits!
Sora assessed Jiraiya's strength while running.
Worthy of a Sannin.
Such wide, flawless attacks plus terrifying pursuit—any jōnin would be a pincushion.
Too bad—he faced Sora.
Nearing village edge, Sora's eyes flashed—a bad idea.
He veered sharply.
Toward Hokage Rock.
"Kid, you're done!"
Jiraiya roared—speed surging, closing distance.
Sora seemed panicked—charging straight at the Fourth's massive face.
Just as Jiraiya thought capture imminent.
Sora impossibly braked mid-air—body drifting weightlessly sideways several meters, landing steadily atop the Third's head.
Full-speed Jiraiya couldn't stop.
Boom!
Massive crash.
The legendary Toad Sage splatted in a perfect "大" on his teacher's rock face.
Countless stones rained.
Eerie silence.
Sora peeked from the Third's head—smiling innocently at the sliding Jiraiya.
"Master, you okay?"
"I... am... fine..."
Words ground through teeth.
Jiraiya pried himself off, dusting—face unreadable.
He looked up calmly at Sora.
"Come down."
Sora obediently jumped—standing before Jiraiya like a repentant student.
"Master, I was wrong."
Quick, sincere admission—flawless.
Jiraiya eyed him—rage with no outlet.
Beat him?
New disciple—beating would spread badly.
Scold?
Slippery kid—waste of breath.
"You brat..."
Jiraiya held it in—finally helpless sigh.
"Your movement technique—nice. Brain too."
"Since you're so eager—your master will start your first lesson early."
At the topic, Sora straightened—expectant.
Sage Arts! Finally!
Jiraiya saw his eagerness—lips curving meaningfully.
He extended right hand, palm open.
Hum.
Chakra gathered—spinning fast into a buzzing pale blue energy sphere.
"Recognize this?"
Sora's pupils contracted.
Rasengan!
Minato's three-year A-rank no-seal masterpiece!
"Yes!" Sora nodded heavily. "This is the Fourth Hokage's..."
"Right." Jiraiya interrupted.
"Your unseen senior brother—Namikaze Minato's technique, the Rasengan."
He dispelled it—palm chakra calming.
"Sage Art requires ultimate chakra control."
"This is the best test."
Jiraiya looked at him.
"Your first training: Master it in one month."
"Fail—and forget Sage Arts."
With that, he turned—hands behind back, steady steps away.
"Wait, Master!" Sora called.
"You teach nothing—how do I learn?"
Jiraiya paused—glancing back like at an idiot.
"Your senior brother developed it himself."
"I showed you the finished product—if you still can't learn, you're trash."
"Get lost—don't waste my time."
Ignoring Sora, he leaped away—vanishing.
Leaving Sora alone under the Fourth's face—messy in the wind.
What teaching?
Throw the answer—make you derive the process yourself?
Classic Jiraiya.
Sora inwardly questioned his new master's style heavily.
But...
He extended right hand—mimicking.
Rasengan?
Too simple. One month?
Way too long.
Sora stood alone under Hokage Rock—mountain wind tousling flaxen hair.
Jiraiya long gone.
Air lingered with the sage's unique mix of booze and toad oil.
And a hint of shattered dreams' embarrassment.
Rasengan.
A-rank no-seal—pinnacle of shape transformation.
Minato's three-year masterpiece.
A hurdle requiring massive time and effort for any ninja.
But to him...
Sora extended right hand.
In those few seconds Jiraiya formed it.
His system space quietly gained a new disc.
[Jiraiya - Rasengan]
Pale blue sphere glowing dangerously alluring.
Keep as trump "playback" for surprise?
Or...
Devour directly?
Sora barely hesitated.
Rasengan powerful—but with Tailed Beast Ball and Mangekyō, not irreplaceable strategically.
But its extreme "shape transformation" understanding—Minato's genius conception and wisdom...
That was priceless.
Devouring would fully integrate into his chakra control.
Not just learning a technique.
Elevator upgrade climbing the "ninjutsu" tower.
"Devour."
He silently commanded.
[Confirm devouring disc: Jiraiya - Rasengan?]
[After devouring, disc permanently vanishes; source energy concept fully integrates into host.]
"Confirm."
Hum!
Chakra under his will spun high-speed—condensing.
Emitting harsh air-cutting buzz.
A perfect, artistic pale blue stable energy sphere formed quietly in his hand.
Rasengan.
Complete.
From Jiraiya leaving to mastering this A-rank.
Barely five minutes.
"Done."
Sora dispelled the Rasengan—satisfied smile.
Time to report progress to his "dear" master.
He checked the sky.
This time—with Master's habits—where would he be?
Obvious.
Sora's figure blurred—vanishing instantly.
...
Konoha Baths.
Women's Section.
That sinful wall stood firm.
Jiraiya squatted gloomily in the corner—grass stem in mouth, bored watching passersby.
Earlier—chased three streets by furious bathers with basins and scrubbers.
Without his speed—he'd be unrecognizable now.
Thinking the instigator was his new "good disciple"—rage boiled.
"Damn brat..."
He muttered—viciously chewing the stem.
Then.
A familiar voice overhead.
"Master, I'm back!"
Jiraiya's head snapped up.
Sora squatted on the wall—waving energetically with harmless sunny smile.
Jiraiya's blood pressure spiked.
"You dare show up!"
He leaped—pointing at Sora's nose, ready to curse.
Then saw Sora's extended right hand.
And the high-speed spinning pale blue sphere on it.
Jiraiya's curse stuck in throat.
He froze.
Staring at the Rasengan—eyes like bells.
Stable.
Solid.
Perfect.
Chakra output and shape maintenance—flawless.
This...
Impossible!
Absolutely impossible!
How long passed?
An hour? Two?
Jiraiya's brain blanked.
He recalled his own Rasengan learning.
Even with Minato's guidance—months to barely grasp.
And this kid...
"Master?" Sora tilted head innocently. "Is this right?"
"Feels like I'm not quite proficient yet."
He even wobbled the Rasengan slightly.
Jiraiya's heart twitched with it.
Not proficient?
This is not proficient?
If this isn't—99% of ninja world should hang themselves!
Monster!
Absolute monster!
His talent—even scarier than Minato's!
Shock gave way to indescribable ecstasy.
Jackpot!
He, heroic Jiraiya—struck true treasure!
Child of Prophecy!
This kid absolutely was the one foretold to bring massive change to the ninja world...
No!
Can't let him get cocky!
Master's dignity must hold!
Jiraiya's reason barely suppressed the joy.
He cleared throat—shock vanishing.
Replaced by feigned calm scrutiny.
"Ahem!"
Fake coughs.
"Passable."
"Barely entry-level."
Sora: "?"
Jiraiya hands behind back—chin up, superior veteran tone.
"Back then—your master heard the concept from Minato once—figured it out on the way home."
"You saw the finished product—and still took this long..."
He shook head—disappointed expression.
"Talent... still a tad below your master!"
"Work harder!"
Sora's smile froze.
Now he saw.
Sannin-level thick skin.
Five-minute mastery became "took this long."
And "heard once figured on way"—why not say born knowing Rasengan?
Textbook dignity salvage.
Sora inwardly ranted—face shifting to enlightened worship.
"I see! Master is incredible!"
"Disciple understands! I'll double efforts to catch up!"
Rainbow flattery soothed Jiraiya.
He nodded satisfied—master image preserved.
"Mm, teachable."
He waved Sora down.
"Since you barely grasped Rasengan—first phase passed."
"Next—the real highlight."
Jiraiya's expression serious.
He looked at Sora—small eyes unprecedentedly grave.
"Kid, normal training wastes your talent."
Sora's heart raced.
Sage Arts!
Finally!
"So..."
Jiraiya heavily placed hand on Sora's shoulder.
"Pack your things."
"Master's taking you somewhere."
Sora looked up—amber eyes full of expectation and curiosity.
"Master, where?"
Jiraiya grinned—bold and mysterious.
"Mount Myōboku."