Jiraiya's body trembled. His eyes went dull before he toppled backward. The silver hair that had been binding Minato and Kushina vanished with him—Poof!Smoke burst where he fell. Just a shadow clone.
Jinzō let out a long sigh. His chakra was running on fumes; he couldn't fight anymore.
Luckily, the bell didn't disappear with the clone. It clattered to the ground, and Kushina's chains shot out, snagging it into her hand.
From the treeline, Jiraiya strolled out carrying a wooden box.
"Well, damn. You brats aren't half-bad."
The "Jiraiya" they'd been fighting was just a clone, but even then—no average genin team should've been able to force it down. Only chunin-level squads usually managed that.
"Jiraiya-sensei, we won!" Kushina waved the bell gleefully. It jingled with a triumphant ding-ding-dong.
For once, Jiraiya didn't mind being called "sensei." That brat finally knew how to address him properly. He smirked.
"Alright, enough fighting. Let's eat." He patted the box in his arms. "Behold, my love bento~"
Kushina wrinkled her nose, but her stomach betrayed her with a growl. She trudged over beside Minato anyway. Jinzō followed last, pale and dragging his feet. The spirit pill had chewed through most of his chakra reserves—his flashy deductions looked great on paper, but his body couldn't keep up yet.
Inside the box: steaming bowls of rice, grilled fish, side dishes, all neatly packed. The three kids dug in like wolves. The pile of food shrank at terrifying speed.
Jiraiya froze, chopsticks in hand, watching his hard-prepared meal vanish before his eyes. His grin faltered, then stiffened into a serious look.
"…So. Which of you is going back to the Academy?"
Minato and Kushina exchanged a glance. Jinzō, meanwhile, lounged back like some old god, staring at the sky.
"Me! I'll go back! I could happily rot in class another ten years." He raised his hand shamelessly. The thought of being chained to the battlefield? Hell no. If the "Will of Fire" meant sacrificing himself for the village, then Uchiha Jinzō was a very wet fish.
Of course, that was just a fantasy. With their current level, the village wasn't about to let them slip away so easily.
"I'll give up," Minato said with his usual smile, though there was bitterness in his tone. "Compared to Jinzō's combat skill and Kushina's clan techniques, I don't bring much to the table."
Kushina's expression soured. "And me? You think the village would ever let a Nine-Tails Jinchūriki just wander around on missions?" She wasn't stupid. She knew how they saw her—an outsider, a weapon.
Only Jinzō sounded truly sincere. He didn't bother to argue, just sighed and kept watching the clouds drift across the blue sky.
Jiraiya suddenly laughed. Loud, warm, genuine. "You all passed."
"Huh?" Kushina blinked.
"The test was never about who gets sent back," Jiraiya explained, smile spreading again. "It's about whether you can trust each other. Without that, you'll never last as a team."
Minato's smile brightened. Kushina's eyes lit up with realization. "So—we're all genin now?"
"Exactly. From today, you're members of Team Jiraiya."
"Yattaaa!" Kushina leapt into the air, grinning from ear to ear.
Jiraiya watched the three with a strange warmth. They reminded him of his own team: a fiery redhead like Tsunade, a calm and cunning Uchiha like Orochimaru, and a kind, golden boy like himself.
"As the leader," Jinzō suddenly piped up, a sly grin on his face, "shouldn't you treat us to a big meal?" His smile was pure fox. Minato and Kushina perked up expectantly.
Jiraiya clutched his chest dramatically. "…Fine. My treat." But why did he have such a bad feeling? And hadn't they just eaten?
Konoha Barbecue Restaurant.
Jiraiya's eyes bulged at the bill dragging across the floor. His wallet cried for mercy as he counted the same pitiful stack of notes for the third time.
The owner tapped an abacus, smiling sharp as a kunai. Jiraiya swallowed. "Uh… can I pay by… washing dishes?"
The boss glared, half-remembering another brat who'd tried that stunt. Still, after a quick calculation, he grudgingly agreed.
Jiraiya stumbled outside, wallet empty, shoulders sagging. He froze at the sound of Jinzō's smug voice.
"See? That's why you trick the enemy into paying. We never have enough food otherwise."
Minato winced, embarrassed. Kushina, though, nodded seriously like she was absorbing top-secret wisdom.
Jiraiya's face twitched. This brat. Absolute menace.
Before he could shout, Jinzō cheerfully shoved a little notebook into his hands. "Don't be mad, sensei! Here, a gift. This is my secret."
Jiraiya blinked. "Huh? Basic… internal strength?"
"That's why I could fight without ninjutsu earlier," Jinzō explained casually. "Just the basics. Nothing fancy. Definitely not because I want your jutsu notes or anything."
Now Jiraiya was intrigued.
Before he could press further, a smooth voice interrupted:
"Jiraiya."
They all turned. Orochimaru stood there like he'd simply appeared from the shadows, golden eyes gleaming.
"Hey, perfect timing!" Jiraiya grabbed his teammate's sleeve like a drowning man. "Loan me some cash, please!"
Orochimaru tilted his head. "I didn't bring my wallet."
"…orz." Jiraiya collapsed. So much for salvation.
Then Orochimaru noticed the notebook in Jiraiya's hand. His thin lips curled into a smile. "That's a real path you're holding."
"What?" Jiraiya looked down, baffled. But Orochimaru had already turned away.
"I'll take him from here." He gestured at Jinzō.
"See you tomorrow!" Jinzō waved at Minato, before following Orochimaru.
Once they were gone, Minato frowned. "Jiraiya-sensei, who was that?"
"…My teammate. Elite Jonin, Orochimaru." Jiraiya's smile was tight, bitter. "You two head home. I'll pick you up for missions tomorrow." He turned back toward the barbecue shop, resigned to a night of endless dishwashing.
Jinzō trailed Orochimaru into the Forest of Death. Dangerous beasts roamed here—many Uchiha summoned their contracts from this very place. Eventually, Orochimaru led him through a hidden passage into a sprawling underground facility.
"This will be your training ground," Orochimaru explained. "First floor for practice. Second, storage for beasts. Third, a ninjutsu archive. Fourth…" His eyes gleamed. "…my laboratory."
Jinzō crossed his arms. "You're not training me out of charity, are you, Orochimaru-sama?"
Orochimaru chuckled. "Smart boy. Do you realize what your little invention—this 'basic internal strength'—represents?"
Jinzō frowned. "It's just… a different way of thinking about chakra."
"No. It's a change. A shift in the shinobi world itself."
Jinzō stiffened. That word—change—coming from someone else's mouth was dangerous. He slid a kunai into his hand.
A hiss slithered through the air. A serpent coiled around him in an instant. His muscles froze, unwilling to move.
"Relax," Orochimaru soothed. "I won't harm you. On the contrary—I'll protect you. All I ask is that you continue developing this internal strength. Think of me as your… sponsor."
Jinzō clenched his jaw. His golden finger system had already rejected most of his "deductions." He wasn't progressing fast enough alone.
"I'll give you shelter, knowledge, and resources," Orochimaru continued, eyes burning with curiosity. "In return, you'll give me results. And in the meantime… you'll assist with my experiments."
Jinzō narrowed his eyes. "…What kind of experiments?"
Orochimaru's smile widened.
"Experiments with Hashirama's cells."