Hayashi ultimately didn't go to Mount Myōboku.
He had never signed a toad contract, nor did he know where Jiraiya was—how could he possibly appear there?
More importantly… "I hate toads. Compared to Ryūchi Cave, Mount Myōboku is trash. I'd rather die than go there!" he declared with fierce conviction.
The White Snake Sage's cold gaze shifted slightly, acknowledging his words. Hayashi wiped sweat from his brow, silently scolding himself—this was enemy territory, and careless words could easily get him killed.
"Fine, intravenous it is," he muttered. "No time to swap methods now."
There was urgency. It was the thirty-sixth year of Konoha, four years after the end of the Second Great Ninja War. Others might not have noticed, but Hayashi knew the next conflict was approaching. The Third Great Ninja War promised to be far bloodier than the last.
The village was full of talent—Tsunade had yet to develop her hemophobia, Sakumo hadn't fallen to rumors, and Hayashi had already risen like a comet. Yet the future Yellow Flash, Minato, had only just begun mastering the Flying Thunder God Technique. Many of Hayashi's peers, destined to shine in the Third War, were still Chunin. Even heavyweights like Orochimaru and Jiraiya were slightly weaker than they would be a few years later.
If the Third Great Ninja War erupted a few years early, it was uncertain whether Konoha's current strength would surpass the original timeline. Hayashi's goal was clear: end the war swiftly and minimize Konoha's casualties.
His fighting style had always been efficient—control and basic attack. Slip in a genjutsu to create an opening, then deliver a single, lethal strike. That strike could take the form of a whip kick, a Kunai, or the devastating Chidori. Simple, repetitive, yet brutally effective—the ultimate method of precision killing.
The flaw? Against elite opponents, the battle could drag on. He had learned this facing the Third Mizukage.
For an Uchiha, the fastest path to greater power was awakening the Mangekyo Sharingan. But that required more than talent—it demanded trauma. People had to die. If a close friend perished tomorrow, Hayashi might unlock it instantly, yet he wished to avoid that cost.
His remaining option was the System, which ran on points. Without a war to farm them, acquiring enough points was difficult. Thus, the Sage arts were his most practical shortcut. Sage Mode was essentially a cheat: training couldn't be completed overnight, and he couldn't remain holed up in the White Snake Sage's lair indefinitely.
With that in mind, Tashin-hime, his instructor, led Hayashi to a spacious cavern within Ryūchi Cave. Dim light filtered in, giving enough visibility for the upcoming training. Once Hayashi sat cross-legged, Tashin-hime slithered up his arm and nestled at his neck.
Dabai, clearly wary of the little pink snake, hastily moved aside. Hayashi ignored the dog's fuss.
Tashin-hime arched her body and sank her fangs into Hayashi's neck. Immediately, her tail swelled like a ring-shaped balloon, inching upward in steady pulses while natural energy coursed through him.
Cold. That was the first sensation. The bite numbed the area, the icy natural energy feeling like liquid surging inside him. At first, nothing seemed to happen. Seconds later, it exploded internally like fireworks, ripping through his body uncontrollably.
Initial loss of control was expected. Without restraint, a Sage trainee could easily become a mindless berserker, like many who had failed before. Here, Hayashi's vast chakra reserves proved essential. Though natural energy raged, his yang-rich chakra formed a barrier that contained the frenzy. A basic prerequisite for Sage training was clear: the practitioner needed enormous chakra reserves and yang affinity, or the energy could not be tamed.
Hayashi pushed his chakra to merge with the incoming natural energy. The wild power resisted, booting his chakra violently, but he refused to yield. Slowly, he adjusted output, probing for balance. Sage Chakra demanded harmony between natural, mental, and physical energy. Distribution was trivial for someone of Hayashi's skill.
As time passed, he stabilized the flow. His body began to transform. Under Dabai's vigilant gaze, patches of white scales appeared across his skin. Small horns emerged from his forehead, growing visibly.
Scientifically speaking… a brand-new little dragon boy was coming into being.
Had Hayashi seen himself, he might have thought:
"I've got horns on my head… no tail behind me… no one can guess… all my secrets… I'm a little Azure Dragon…"
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