Training Ground Three.
Several golden chakra chains extended limply from Karin's back, swaying drunkenly like intoxicated snakes.
They twisted haphazardly in the air—some knotting themselves into dead tangles, others even accidentally whipping across Karin's own face.
Smack!
"Ow!" Karin clutched her cheek, tears welling up.
"Focus your mind!"
"Adamantine Sealing Chains are extensions of your will and life force—they're not for some shaman dance!"
Sora lounged idly on a nearby tree stump, a blade of grass dangling from his mouth, looking more relaxed than anyone.
Inwardly, however, he was scoring her performance relentlessly.
[Adamantine Sealing Chains · Beginner Edition]
Visual Appeal: ★☆☆☆☆ (Golden legend—but resembles a plate of spilled spaghetti)
Practicality: ☆☆☆☆☆ (Current sole function: self-face-slapping)
Room for improvement—plenty of it.
Karin inhaled deeply, her small face flushing red with effort as she tried once more to command the unruly chains.
Just then, a figure with flowing white hair descended from the sky in an extravagantly flamboyant pose.
Thud!
The newcomer landed on one knee, one hand braced against the ground, the other dramatically sweeping back overly long bangs from his forehead—striking what he clearly believed was a devastatingly handsome stance.
"Ahem! I'm back!"
Sora didn't even bother lifting an eyelid.
Well, well—that thick aura blending booze, perfume, and toad oil.
Who else could it be but his cheap master—one of the Legendary Sannin, the walking restricted-section library: Jiraiya.
"Master Jiraiya, when did you get back?" Sora greeted lazily, not budging an inch.
Jiraiya rose, brushing off dust with a "I knew you'd be here" expression.
"As soon as I received your message, I started heading back."
"Then why did it take you so many days?" Sora raised an eyebrow.
The time elapsed since sending the toad messenger was enough for Jiraiya to have circled the entire ninja world.
"Hahaha," Jiraiya laughed awkwardly, eyes shifting. "I got... delayed by some scenery along the way."
Sora understood instantly.
Ah, "scenery."
We all know what that means.
Probably some custom shop hostess "delayed" by the old pervert's "research."
Jiraiya's gaze quickly landed on the wary Karin nearby.
"This is the Uzumaki clan girl you mentioned?" He studied her vibrant red hair with keen interest.
"Yeah—Uzumaki Karin. Very talented little one," Sora introduced casually.
Jiraiya's playful grin softened, tinged with nostalgia.
"Uzumaki..."
He pulled a sealed scroll from his robes and tossed it to Sora.
"These are some Uzumaki sealing techniques I obtained from Kushina back in the day. Give them all to her."
Sora caught it steadily.
Inwardly: [Ding! You've received a legacy gift from NPC 'Jiraiya' (Kushina Limited Edition)!]
Warm words are nice—but a fat inheritance hits different.
Master really delivers.
"How's your training been lately? Slacking off?" Jiraiya assumed an elder's stern posture, beginning his routine check.
"Decent enough!" Sora brushed off.
Jiraiya nodded satisfied, as if his visit's purpose was complete.
"I'll just check you're alright, then head out. I still have important..."
"You're already here," Sora interrupted suddenly.
Jiraiya blinked.
Sora hopped off the stump, face lighting up with an impeccable bright smile.
"Stay for lunch—try my new hot pot."
"Hot pot?" Jiraiya looked puzzled.
"A new dish I developed," Sora said mysteriously, launching into sales mode. "Planning to open a restaurant with it—become Konoha's top dining chain, marry rich and beautiful, peak of life!"
"Oh?" Jiraiya's eyes sparkled.
Food?
Restaurant?
That meant... free meals forever?
He immediately switched to righteous indignation: "Ahem! As your master, I must personally sample and rigorously approve your entrepreneurial project! It's my duty!"
Sora watched his master's sanctimonious act, inwardly blooming with amusement.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Midday, Sora's apartment.
Steam rose in waves.
The table once again hosted the signature trio of pots.
Red oil churning fiercely; tomato rich and inviting; mushroom clear and fresh.
Jiraiya sat grandly at the head, eyeing the setup with fascination—nose twitching constantly at the bold aromas filling the air.
"Kid, you've really put on quite the show here."
He picked up chopsticks eagerly.
Karin sat quietly beside Sora, body slightly tense, warily eyeing this white-haired man radiating unreliability.
One of the Legendary Sannin?
He looked more like a drunk uncle from the streets.
"Master, long journey—try my cooking."
Sora welcomed warmly, personally using serving chopsticks to drop a paper-thin beef slice into the most vigorously boiling red oil pot.
"For this one, it's all about 'seven up, eight down'—count eight seconds mentally for perfect texture."
Jiraiya mimicked him, dipping a slice into the red broth with serious concentration.
"One, two, three..."
He even counted aloud.
At eight, he eagerly shoved the oil-coated, steaming beef into his mouth.
The next instant.
Jiraiya's face transformed.
His still-handsome features flushed liver-red at visible speed.
Veins bulged on his forehead; eyes widened; mouth gaped—but no sound emerged.
An indescribable storm of burning heat and numbing tingle detonated in his mouth.
"Mmmph—!!"
He leaped up, arms flailing wildly like a startled cat.
Sora calmly passed a pre-prepared glass of ice water.
Jiraiya snatched it, gulping desperately.
"Ha... ha... spicy! Numbing!"
He panted heavily, tongue lolling. "Kid, what is this?! Trying to assassinate your master?!"
Sora spread his hands innocently.
"Master, this is traditional butter pot—the soul of hot pot."
"Its charm lies in this extreme sensory stimulation."
Karin watched Jiraiya's disheveled state, lips curving upward involuntarily.
"Ahem!" Jiraiya finally recovered, wiping forehead sweat and sitting back down—face now oddly excited.
"One... one more!"
He grabbed another slice, dipping it into the red oil once more.
This time prepared, he still grimaced from the spice—but his addicted expression said everything.
"Mmm! Addictive!"
"Try with this dip—flavor's even richer." Sora passed a prepared garlic oil bowl.
Jiraiya tasted—eyes shining brighter.
"Delicious! Absolutely delicious!"
He fully unleashed, chopsticks flying across all three pots—utterly abandoning the dignified image of a legendary ninja.
"This sweet-sour one's great too!"
"This clear broth—so refreshing!"
The meal became a fiery battlefield.
Jiraiya alone demolished half the table's ingredients.
Sated, he burped contentedly, leaning back and patting his rounded belly.
"Kid, your skill is phenomenal."
His expression toward Sora grew more serious. "With this alone, your restaurant in Konoha will explode in popularity."
"Of course," Sora smiled confidently. "I've already partnered with Ino-Shika-Cho—they'll handle operations; I provide recipes and techniques."
Jiraiya's movement paused briefly.