The Hokage’s office felt different this time.
Unlike before, the guards outside didn’t even question Fujimoto Tōma’s presence. Someone had clearly given prior instructions.
The moment he stepped inside, a loud, rough voice hit his ears.
"So this is the kid? You dragged me back with a dozen summons just for him? Doesn’t look like much, old man."
The voice carried the weight of age and confidence, casual and unrestrained.
Tōma turned toward it, his suspicion already forming before his eyes fully registered the scene. When they did, he couldn’t help widening them slightly.
A tall man stood there, broad-shouldered, with long white hair falling messily down his back. A forehead protector marked with the character for oil sat proudly above sharp eyes, red markings streaking down from them. A red sleeveless coat draped over his shoulders like a battle-worn cloak.
There was no mistaking him.
One of the Legendary Three Ninja.
Jiraiya.
Tōma hadn’t expected this. Not here. Not now.
And the implication behind Jiraiya’s presence made his heart stir with both excitement and a trace of self-mockery.
So that was it.
The Flying Thunder God was never going to be handed over easily. No matter how clean his background was, no matter how clearly he’d tied himself to family, friends, and the village. In the Third Hokage’s eyes, that still wasn’t enough.
Still, if this was the price, Tōma had no intention of backing down.
After all, this was Jiraiya. The teacher of both the Fourth and Seventh Hokage.
"Third Hokage-sama," Tōma said, bowing respectfully despite the surprise.
"Hm?" The old man smiled. "Judging by your reaction, you know who this is?"
"Yes," Tōma replied honestly. "One of the Legendary Three Ninja. Jiraiya-sama. I’d heard you’d been away from the village for years. I didn’t expect to see you here."
"Hahaha!" Jiraiya laughed loudly. "Guess my reputation still holds up!"
The Third Hokage rubbed his temples, looking mildly exasperated, though there was unmistakable warmth in his expression. With Jiraiya here, some of his worries clearly eased.
"Enough," the Hokage said, cutting off the laughter. "Tōma, you should already know why you’re here. Are you ready?"
"Yes." Tōma stepped forward and presented the special kunai. "I’m prepared."
The moment Jiraiya’s eyes fell on the kunai, his grin faded. A flicker of nostalgia passed through his gaze as he remembered a blond figure moving like lightning across the battlefield.
He glanced from the kunai to Tōma’s face.
Similar... but not quite. Minato had been brighter. Warmer.
"Tōma," the Third Hokage said gently, "you’re perceptive. You can probably guess why Jiraiya is present today."
"Yes," Tōma answered immediately, eyes lighting up. "I’d like Jiraiya-sama to take me as his student."
The directness made the Hokage nod in approval.
Jiraiya crossed his arms. "Hold on, kid. Becoming my student isn’t that simple. I came back because the old man here kept insisting your talent rivals Minato’s. If you fail this test, I’m walking away."
"I’ll pass," Tōma said calmly, confidence unmistakable.
That confidence made Jiraiya pause. Then he grinned wide.
"Heh. Alright. Let’s see if I can take on another disciple."
Tōma waited a moment. When neither of them explained further, he spoke up.
"May I ask what the test is?"
The Third Hokage chuckled. "Simple. Use the summoning technique I taught you to summon the Flying Thunder God kunai."
Jiraiya rolled his eyes. "You really don’t pull punches, sensei."
Tōma, however, froze.
Summon... a kunai?
That was it?
He almost relaxed before something felt wrong.
In the next instant, his expression changed.
The familiar connection he’d nurtured for so long... was gone.
Not severed completely, but distant. Faint. As if buried under layers of interference.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
The Hokage nodded, satisfied. "You noticed quickly. Good. You have until tomorrow. Jiraiya will observe."
With that, the old man turned back to his paperwork, clearly unconvinced this would be easy.
"Figures," Jiraiya yawned. "Kid, if you can’t do it, give up early. I’ve got... research to catch up on."
Tōma didn’t respond.
He closed his eyes, letting his breathing steady as he focused entirely on his perception.
After some time, he finally sensed it. A thread. Thin to the point of vanishing.
What did they do?
The bond felt almost erased. Summoning through pure perception alone was impossible.
Then... the formula.
Would it still work?
No point hesitating.
Tōma bit his thumb and began forming seals.
Jiraiya’s casual posture shifted ever so slightly.
That speed...
Fast. Clean. Disciplined.
This kid had practiced.
Still...
Jiraiya shook his head faintly.
That won’t be enough.