A ripple in space appeared out of nowhere in the dimly lit storage room.
Sora's figure slowly stepped out from it.
Returning from Myoboku Mountain took only a fleeting moment.
He glanced out the window; it was still early.
Having made an agreement with the two Toad Sages to begin training tomorrow, he now had one more important thing to do.
Request leave.
As a member of Konoha's Anbu directly under the Hokage, going missing without leave was a serious offense.
Though he didn't care personally, as a strategist pursuing perfection, any potential flaw that could disrupt his plans had to be plugged in advance.
He changed into the standard Anbu combat uniform and put on his mask.
With a flash, he vanished from the spot.
...
The Anbu base was as cold and damp as ever.
The air was mixed with the smells of rust, disinfectant, and a faint trace of blood.
Sora didn't like this place.
He passed through the oppressive corridors and arrived at the door of the captain's office.
The door was open.
He didn't even need to enter to see his direct superior, Hatake Kakashi, slouched in a chair in an extremely lazy posture.
In his hand, he held an orange-covered booklet with an utterly indecent cover.
It was *Intimate Paradise* again.
This future Sixth Hokage really had a deep love for the "literary masterpiece" written by his master's teacher.
Sora silently complained in his mind and knocked on the door.
"Captain."
Kakashi's lazy fish-eye lifted from above the book and glanced at him.
"Oh, it's Sora."
"What's the matter?"
His attention was clearly still on the book.
Sora walked in and stood straight in front of the desk.
"Captain, I need to request leave."
"Leave?"
Kakashi finally put the book down, though he kept it marked with one finger, ready to resume reading at any moment.
"Reason."
As captain, this was the procedure he had to follow.
"To undergo a special training." Sora replied without hesitation, using the excuse he had prepared.
His voice, filtered through the mask, sounded calm and steady.
"Special training?" Kakashi sat up a bit straighter, a hint of scrutiny in his single eye.
"Does it require leaving the village?"
"Yes."
"Where to? With whom? What is the training content?"
A series of questions, standard enough to be written into the *Anbu Captain's Handbook*.
Sora had anticipated this.
He looked up, staring directly into Kakashi's eye through the holes in his mask.
Then, with a tone blending youthful sincerity and a perfectly concealed joy that couldn't be hidden, he spoke slowly.
"Lord Jiraiya has officially accepted me as his disciple."
"He will personally guide me in Senjutsu training."
The words were clear and smooth.
Each one landed like a pebble on a calm lake.
The office instantly fell into dead silence.
Kakashi's body stiffened.
The finger pressing on the book page trembled slightly.
The treasured *Intimate Paradise* slipped silently from his hand.
*Thud.*
The sound of the booklet hitting the floor was particularly jarring in the quiet room.
Lord... Jiraiya?
Disciple?
Senjutsu?
These words frantically combined, collided, and exploded into a massive, chaotic mushroom cloud in Kakashi's mind.
His supposedly over-200 IQ brain completely crashed in that moment.
Sora quietly watched him.
He could clearly see Kakashi's only exposed eye widening at a visible speed.
It was filled with astonishment, shock, disbelief, and a trace of... worldview-shattering bewilderment.
Sora quite enjoyed this process.
Observing a strong person's loss of composure was one of his rare mischievous pleasures.
Jiraiya.
One of the Sannin, the legendary Toad Sage.
But he had an even more important identity.
He was the teacher of the Fourth Hokage, Namikaze Minato.
And Hatake Kakashi was Minato's student.
So...
According to the damn strict master-disciple hierarchy in the ninja world.
This 13-year-old boy who had just become his disciple.
Was now legitimately Kakashi's... senior—this twenty-something-year-old Copy Ninja renowned throughout the ninja world.
Just thinking of that title filled Sora with a mischievous sense of accomplishment.
"You... what did you say?"
It took a long while for Kakashi to regain his voice.
He picked up the book from the floor, dusted it off absentmindedly, but had no mind to read it.
"You said you became Lord Jiraiya's disciple?"
"Yes, Captain." Sora nodded, his tone still pure and harmless.
"This afternoon, at the entrance to the women's bath."
The women's bath entrance...
This location, brimming with sinful and gossipy vibes, made Kakashi's mouth twitch uncontrollably.
He could already imagine the scene.
No need to ask—it must have been that lecherous old man "gathering material" when he was caught by his subordinate.
But that wasn't the point!
The point was the hierarchy!
Kakashi felt his temples throbbing.
He looked at the masked boy in front of him, whose frame was still somewhat slender.
The word "senior" stuck in his throat, impossible to utter.
No.
Absolutely not.
I, Hatake Kakashi, will never perform such a great courtesy to a kid so much younger than me!
The image was too beautiful; he dared not think of it.
Kakashi's breathing quickened.
His usually calm brain was now racing, searching for the best way to resolve this massive trouble.
Got it!
"Ahem!"
Kakashi cleared his throat, forcing himself back to his lazy, uninterested demeanor.
He slumped back into the chair and spoke in a strictly businesslike tone, devoid of personal emotion.
"Since it's Lord Jiraiya's order."
"This leave is approved."
His actions were lightning fast.
He pulled out a leave form from the drawer, scribbled his signature in a few strokes, and stamped it with the captain's seal.
The whole process was smooth and seamless.
As if delaying even a second would force the kid to make him say that forbidden title.
"How long do you need?"
He pushed the form over, not daring to look at Sora again.
"One month... should be enough." Sora pretended to think for a moment and gave a relatively conservative estimate.
"One month?"
Kakashi's head snapped up.
"No!"
His reaction was unusually intense.
"Senjutsu training—how vitally important! How can it be treated so lightly!"
He looked heartbroken, as if reprimanding an ignorant junior.
"This concerns the village's future, the inheritance of the Will of Fire—it's a matter of utmost priority!"
"One month is too short! It's utterly disrespectful to Senjutsu and to Lord Jiraiya!"
His words were righteous and imposing.
Sora: "..."
Well done.
That's quite a big hat you're putting on.
"Then... what do you suggest, Captain?" Sora probed along his words.
"Two months!"
Kakashi held up two fingers.
"No! Three months!"
He seemed to feel it wasn't enough and added another.
"I'll approve three months of extended leave for you!"
"During this time, all your missions will be reassigned to others. All your evaluations will be calculated at the highest standard!"
"You don't need to worry about anything! Just focus wholeheartedly on learning Senjutsu from Lord Jiraiya!"
"Now! Go immediately!"
Kakashi stood up and practically shoved the leave form into Sora's hand.
His demeanor wasn't like approving leave.
It was more like driving away a plague god.
Sora held the light but weighty form, momentarily amused and speechless.
He finally understood.
This genius captain, to avoid the title "senior," was resorting to any means necessary.
"Yes, Captain."
Sora suppressed his laughter and neatly stored the form.
"I understand."
"I will not let down your expectations!"
He bowed respectfully to Kakashi.
"Then, I'll take my leave, Captain."
Sora's voice remained steady, betraying no emotion.
He turned and left the oppressive office without lingering.
Behind him was Kakashi's gaze, filled with complex emotions, almost burning through his back.
Senior...
Kakashi slumped back into the chair powerlessly, covering his face with *Intimate Paradise*.
He felt his life for the next three months would be utterly bleak.
...
Leaving the dark, damp Anbu base, Sora's figure darted swiftly across rooftops under the moonlight.
Three months of paid extended leave.
All missions exempt, evaluations maxed out.
Captain Kakashi was truly a considerate leader.
Sora's mood was quite pleasant.
This operation not only perfectly resolved attendance issues during training but also harvested a wave of intense emotional fluctuations from the genius Jonin.
Double win.
Simply perfect.
Soon, he returned to his inconspicuous small apartment in the village's corner.
Pushing open the door, a warm breath carrying the scent of sun-dried bedding greeted him.
A stark contrast to the Anbu base's chill.
He removed his uniform, tossed aside the blank fox mask.
In the mirror, the Anbu elite "Sora" vanished.
In his place was an ordinary boy with flaxen short hair, amber eyes, looking utterly harmless.
He walked to the center of the room and sat cross-legged.
No rush to rest.
One more thing to handle.
He extended his right hand, bit his thumb, and a crimson bead of blood formed at the tip.
No complex seals.
He simply pressed the drop of blood onto the wooden floor beneath him.
There, etched an extremely tiny pattern, almost blending with the wood grain—a complex technique formula.
"Summoning Technique."
*Puff.*
A small cloud of white smoke quietly spread.
As the smoke cleared.
A pitch-black crow stood silently on the floor.
Its feathers gleamed with a metallic sheen under the dim light.
Most striking were its eyes.
Not the dullness of ordinary birds, but a deep, wise scarlet glow almost human-like.
This crow belonged to Uchiha Itachi.
It was also the secret communication line between Sora and that Uchiha genius.
Ever since their agreement, this crow had been their sole messenger.
The crow tilted its head, emitting a hoarse, inquiring croak.
Its scarlet eyes reflected Sora's calm, unwavering face in the dimness.
No words.
Any potentially eavesdroppable communication had long been excluded from Sora's plans.
He took paper and pen from the desk and wrote a very brief line.
"Myoboku Mountain, training, plan unchanged."
After thinking, he added at the end:
"Teacher Jiraiya is quite interesting."
He rolled the note into a tiny scroll and inserted it into the minuscule tube tied to the crow's leg.
"Interesting."
A word full of subjective color, open to countless interpretations.
The crow flapped its wings silently, like a shadow merging into darkness, slipping out through the window crack and vanishing into Konoha's night.
The room returned to silence.
Sora stood, stretching his somewhat stiff body.
He went to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, and turned his thoughts to the next, most urgent issue.
Food.
From his memories of scattered intelligence on the three great summoning lands.
The daily diet of those toads in Myoboku Mountain... seemed to mainly consist of various insects.
Just thinking of those slimy, wriggling, high-protein "delicacies" made Sora's stomach churn.
No.
Absolutely not.
Even the ultimate rationalist couldn't accept a diet that broke physiological limits.
Senjutsu training would be arduous.
But meals—he had to eat what he wanted.
Instant noodles, compressed biscuits, canned beef, energy bars...
One by one, words filled with modern industrial flavor flashed through his mind.
It seemed necessary to conduct a large-scale strategic supply procurement before heading to Myoboku Mountain.
Then seal them all into scrolls.
Prepare for a prolonged "food defense war" in Myoboku Mountain.
As he seriously planned his shopping list, a thought suddenly emerged unbidden.
Senjutsu.
I wonder if my cheat can let me master Senjutsu directly.
Even with cheats, one must train seriously.
At least on the surface, appear serious enough.
Starting tomorrow, honestly play the role of a "natural sage" and report to Myoboku Mountain.
As for now...
He glanced at the clock on the wall and felt the three-month ultra-long paid leave form in his pocket.
Time was still plentiful.
It was time to contribute to his upcoming "happy life" in Myoboku Mountain.
Sora rummaged through his storage cabinet and pulled out a bulging wallet disguised as a ninja tool pouch.
This was all his savings accumulated from years of high-risk missions.
Today, it would shoulder an even more sacred mission.
He changed into comfortable casual clothes; his flaxen short hair looked soft and fluffy under the light, turning him back into that energetic boy-next-door.
The shopping list was already compiled in his mind.
The route planned.
He walked to the door and grasped the handle.
A perfect day was about to conclude with perfect shopping.
He opened the door.
The next morning's sunlight precisely filtered through the window, spilling onto the wooden floor.
Sora sat cross-legged in the room's center, surrounded by neatly stacked sealing scrolls of various sizes.
Each scroll was labeled in elegant handwriting with its contents.
"Canned Beef - 20 portions," "Tonkotsu Ramen - 30 portions," "Compressed Biscuits - 50 portions"...
There was even one separately labeled "Condiments - Assorted."
This was the result of his all-night battle last night.
For the upcoming "ascetic training" in Myoboku Mountain, he had nearly emptied Konoha's three largest supermarkets.
As a perfect strategist, he would never allow his plan to falter on a low-level link like "logistics supply."
Everything was ready.
Just awaiting the east wind.
At the exact agreed time, not a second off.
The tiny technique formula on the floor beneath him suddenly glowed with a gentle green light.
Utterly different from Jiraiya's wild summoning yesterday.
This time, no explosive white smoke, no violent spatial distortion.
A mild yet irresistible force gently enveloped him and all the scrolls on the ground.
Space rippled like water, slowly swallowing him.
...
Myoboku Mountain.
The air was still humid, fragrant with plants and earth.
Sora's figure lightly landed on the familiar giant lotus leaf.
At his feet, the mountain-like pile of sealing scrolls remained intact, stacked together.
The entire process was as smooth as the most comfortable elevator ride.
"Yo, little Sora, how does it feel?"
Shima Sage's elderly voice, laced with laughter, came from the side.
She sat cross-legged on a mushroom, puffing on her signature small pipe.
"Very wonderful, Lady Shima." Sora immediately flashed an energetic smile. "Much more comfortable than yesterday's 'Toad Sky Jump' experience."
"Pfft." Shima couldn't hold back and chuckled.
"That idiot only knows useless flashy tricks." She nudged her mouth toward another direction.
Sora followed her gesture.
Then, he saw his master.
The legendary Sannin, the gallant Jiraiya.
He was sprawled indecently on a nearby lotus leaf, arms and legs akimbo, tightly hugging an empty sake bottle.
Even snores accompanied the thick scent of cheap alcohol, wantonly spreading in the morning air.
The whole person exuded a decadent aura of being utterly abandoned by society after a hangover.
Sora: "..."
This was his teacher.
The visual impact was truly too strong.
"This kid is really diligent." Shima ignored her useless disciple and curiously eyed the pile of scrolls at Sora's feet.
"How much stuff did you bring? Planning to settle down in Myoboku Mountain?"
"Not at all." Sora quickly put on an embarrassed look and scratched his head.
"I heard from Master that Myoboku Mountain's dietary habits are very... unique. I'm afraid I won't be used to it and cause trouble for you and Lord Fukasaku, so I prepared some myself."
"This is also part of training—I can't let personal issues affect the overall progress."
His words were watertight, explaining the supplies' origin while subtly elevating his own mindset.
Shima nodded repeatedly, her gaze toward Sora growing even more appreciative.
What a sensible good child.
Then look at that snoring mess on the ground.
One shines when compared to trash.
Just then, a voice full of majesty and suppressed anger came from afar.
"Ji—rai—ya!"
Fukasaku Sage had arrived.
He stood atop a towering mushroom, looking down at the scene before him.