The familiar back mountain clearing lay quiet as Fujimoto Tōma finished his preparations.
"All right," Jiraiya said, expression serious. "Go all out. Try the summoning technique."
Used correctly, summoning carried no danger. At worst, it failed from lack of chakra. Used poorly, though, it could turn ugly fast.
Tōma nodded. He bit his finger, pressed the blood to the ground, and began forming hand seals. He knew his limits. Summoning Gamabunta was pure fantasy, and even the toads near that level were out of reach.
"Summoning Jutsu."
Jiraiya watched closely, then nodded. The seals were clean. Chakra control was precise. There was no way this would misfire.
White smoke dispersed.
Jiraiya blinked.
Then blinked again.
Standing there was a large toad with an orange body patterned in blue-green markings, a round bead engraved with the character for "Loyalty" hanging from its neck.
"...Gamachū?" Jiraiya muttered.
Of all the toads.
Gamachū wasn’t the largest in Mount Myōboku, but he was far from small. For a first summoning to reach this level was already absurd. It spoke volumes about Tōma’s chakra extraction and control, not just total reserves.
Jiraiya had expected a tadpole. Maybe a small toad at best.
He had underestimated the kid. Again.
Gamachū, for his part, didn’t look startled. He just felt lighter than usual and instinctively prepared his usual entrance pose. Then he noticed Jiraiya standing ahead of him and froze.
"Jiraiya?" Gamachū asked, confused. "If you’re here, then who’s standing on my head?"
Jiraiya laughed. "That’s my new student. I’ll be counting on you from now on."
Tōma looked down and greeted him calmly. "Nice to meet you. I’m Fujimoto Tōma."
"Fujimoto Tōma, huh?" Gamachū nodded. "If you’re Jiraiya’s disciple, you can summon me anytime. Name’s Gamachū."
"Thanks," Tōma replied, smiling.
Summoning contracts couldn’t be reversed, but cooperation wasn’t guaranteed. Even Jiraiya couldn’t always get certain toads to listen. Gamachū’s mild temperament was a lucky draw.
"Well, nothing else to do here," Gamachū said, glancing around. "No enemies. No performance. I’m heading back."
"Thanks for your help," Tōma said, hopping down.
Gamachū bent slightly to let him off, gave Tōma a brief look, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
Jiraiya chuckled. "Looks like he likes you."
"He’s solid," Tōma replied. "Though I probably can’t summon him for combat yet."
Jiraiya nodded. In a real fight, chakra allocated to summoning was limited. Using Gamachū offensively would take a long time yet. Even so, Gamachū could handle an average chūnin under equal conditions.
"So," Tōma asked, "does that mean I’ve passed summoning?"
"Yes," Jiraiya said. "From here on, it’s not about technique. It’s about chakra reserves."
"And we’re back to that again," Tōma sighed, scratching his head.
Jiraiya laughed loudly. "No way around it. Even geniuses have to grow."
Tōma shot him a sideways glance. Uzumaki and Senju didn’t seem to have this problem. Uchiha less so, but still better than most.
Then again, their ’slow growth’ was measured in ridiculous units.
"All right," Jiraiya said, thinking it over. "Next, sealing techniques."
"Perfect," Tōma replied. "I actually have questions."
"...Questions?" Jiraiya paused. "Wait. You’ve already read those scrolls?"
"I skimmed them," Tōma said honestly. "Didn’t go deep yet. There’s a lot I don’t understand."
Jiraiya stared.
Those scrolls were dense. Brutally dense. Even he found them exhausting.
At that moment, the ghost of Orochimaru laughed somewhere in Jiraiya’s memories.
So this was how it felt.
This was the fear of the academically doomed, staring into the calm eyes of a natural scholar.
What followed was nothing short of a personal disaster.
Tōma’s questions kept coming. Precise, layered, relentless. Jiraiya couldn’t dodge them. He was the teacher now.
By the time the sky darkened, Tōma finally looked satisfied. He said goodbye reluctantly, stopping only because his mother would worry if he stayed out any longer.
Jiraiya, meanwhile, sat where he was, staring blankly ahead.
The heroic aura was gone.
What remained was a man who felt thoroughly drained, like a tree stripped of nutrients.
Poor. Helpless. And very, very tired.