"Come on."
Jiraiya brushed the dust off his clothes and waved at Naruto, who was still baring his teeth and shaking his aching fist nearby.
"Where to?" Naruto asked instinctively—yet his feet had already started moving.
For some reason, he felt very little wariness toward this strange white-haired man he'd just met.
Maybe it was because of the popsicle.
Maybe it was because of that unreliable-but-oddly-reassuring presence.
Without even turning back, Jiraiya swung his arm grandly.
"I'm taking you to eat barbecue!"
If this were any ordinary kid, the word barbecue alone would've caused them to cheer.
But Naruto didn't.
Instead, he froze in place as if struck by a paralysis jutsu. His head lowered, and his small hands clenched tightly at the hem of his clothes.
"Hm?"
Jiraiya sensed something wrong and turned around. "What's with you, brat? Weren't you full of energy just now?"
Naruto didn't look up. His voice was muffled, carrying a sadness and inferiority far beyond his age.
"You… you go eat by yourself… I… I won't."
"Ramen is fine," he added quietly.
He had passed by barbecue restaurants countless times—smelling the mouthwatering aroma drifting out, watching other kids happily walk in with their parents.
But whenever he tried to get close, he was met with cold stares from the staff, blunt refusals, or whispers filled with disgust and fear from the customers.
Again and again.
Those rejections had carved deep scars into his heart.
Only the ramen shop owner never chased him away.
Jiraiya looked at Naruto's lowered head and tense posture and instantly understood.
His expression shifted slightly. A flash of complicated pain passed through his eyes—but he quickly covered it with an exaggerated laugh.
"Hahahaha! What's this, brat—throwing a tantrum at me now? Just because I punched you once? That petty?"
"Come on, come on. This sage is in a great mood today. I'll treat you to a big meal—call it a gift for becoming my disciple!"
Before Naruto could react, Jiraiya reached out and grabbed the back of his collar, lifting him up like a squirming chick.
"Hey! Put me down! I'm not going! I'm not eating!"
Naruto flailed wildly, his short legs kicking the air.
He was scared.
Scared of being rejected again.
Scared of being chased away.
Scared of that familiar humiliation and pain.
But how could his strength compare to Jiraiya's?
No matter how he struggled, Jiraiya continued walking steadily toward the most famous barbecue restaurant in the village.
When they reached the entrance and that familiar, tempting-yet-terrifying aroma filled his nose, Naruto suddenly stopped struggling.
His body trembled slightly.
Fear and unease were written all over his small face.
He lowered his head, not daring to look at the staff, already bracing himself for the inevitable scolding and expulsion.
But it never came.
"Welcome, Lord Jiraiya! Right this way!"
The attendant immediately bowed with a bright, respectful smile.
Jiraiya shot the man a sharp look.
When the staff's gaze fell on Naruto in Jiraiya's grip, the smile stiffened for just a moment—but quickly recovered, even forcing a somewhat awkward friendliness.
"A-and… this young guest as well. Please come in."
Naruto froze.
He lifted his head slowly, blue eyes wide with disbelief.
"That's more like it!"
Jiraiya laughed loudly, as if completely oblivious to the subtle tension, and carried the still-dazed Naruto straight inside, asking for a quiet private room.
Only after being set down on a soft cushion—staring at the clean table and the steaming grill—did Naruto finally realize what had happened.
He looked at Jiraiya, who was already flipping through the menu and muttering about whether he should order alcohol.
Then he recalled the attendant's attitude.
A bolt of realization struck his small mind:
This white-haired uncle… might actually be really amazing.
The sizzling sound of meat filled the room, rich aromas dancing in the air.
Jiraiya skillfully flipped the slices, placing perfectly grilled, slightly charred meat onto Naruto's plate.
"Wow! It's delicious! So good!"
Naruto's cheeks were puffed out like a happy hamster, his praise coming out garbled through a mouthful of food.
This was his first time sitting in a barbecue restaurant—without being chased away, without fear—eating such incredible food.
It felt like a dream.
Between bites, he looked up with greasy cheeks and asked the question that had been weighing on him.
"Mr. Toad Sage… why is it that… the staff earlier, and lots of people… seem to respect you so much?"
"Hahahaha!"
Jiraiya proudly stroked his white hair and puffed out his chest.
"That's because your master here is a great ninja!"
"A great ninja…"
Naruto repeated softly. His blue eyes sparkled with admiration and longing.
He wanted to become someone like that too—someone no longer feared or hated, but respected wherever they went.
Seeing that look, Jiraiya decided to push things a little further.
Strengthen Naruto's resolve to become Hokage.
He leaned in mysteriously, lowering his voice like he was revealing a world-shaking secret.
"And hey… brat. I'll tell you something."
He paused, making sure he had Naruto's full attention, then announced smugly:
"The Fourth Hokage—the one carved on the Hokage Rock—was my disciple. Pretty impressive, huh?"
"Pfft—!"
Naruto almost spat out his food.
His eyes went wide, frozen in shock, completely forgetting to chew.
"The F-Fourth Hokage?! Your disciple?!"
The Hokage!
The very pinnacle of his dreams!
And this slightly perverted, unreliable-looking white-haired man… was actually the Hokage's teacher?!
After the shock came an even more exciting realization.
Naruto jumped up, pointing at himself, barely able to speak.
"Th-then… that means… the Fourth Hokage… is my senior brother?!"
"Uh—"
The smug smile on Jiraiya's face instantly froze, his expression turning strangely complicated.
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