The small, battered scroll felt alien in Ryuu's hand. He clutched it tightly as he navigated the darkening streets back to their small apartment, Jiraiya's parting words about his chakra signature was the only thing in his mind, far more unsettling than the Sannin's initial, lewd behavior.
The pervert had obviously sensed him coming yet played it off.
It was far too odd, especially since he was given this scroll that supposedly contained chakra control exercises. Just why would he give him such a thing?
Kasumi was cooking, the faint scent of a simple broth and steamed vegetables beginning to fill their cramped quarters. She looked up as he entered, her dark violet eyes staring at him in confusion. She was a sensor as well, so she could likely feel the faint nervous tension thrumming beneath Ryuu's carefully neutral expression.
"You are late, Ryuu," she stated, her voice quiet, devoid of accusation but heavy with an unspoken question. "The shop was… further than you anticipated?"
Ryuu placed the herbs on their small table. He couldn't lie to her about the delay, not effectively. But the whole truth? Jiraiya, the onsen, the scroll? Kasumi's fear, already a constant, palpable presence, would intensify to an unbearable degree.
She would see traps within traps, manipulations layered upon manipulations. She would confiscate the scroll, forbid him from ever going near that part of the village again. And she wouldn't necessarily be wrong.
"I encountered… someone, Kaa-san," he said, choosing his words with the precision of a shinobi diffusing an explosive tag. "Near the Onsen district. Jiraiya-sama."
Kasumi went utterly still, the ladle in her hand hovering over the pot. The name hung in the air, heavy and laden with a multitude of implications. Jiraiya. The Sannin. Minato's former sensei. A figure of immense power, notorious unpredictability, and a spy network that rivaled Konoha's official intelligence divisions.
"Jiraiya-sama?" she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. "What… what did he want with you, Ryuu?" The undercurrent of fear was unmistakable. Was this another form of scrutiny? Was their precarious sanctuary about to be violated again?
Ryuu took a breath, opting for a carefully edited version of the truth. "He… observed me. He knew who I was. He asked about Genma-sensei. And…" he hesitated, then decided the scroll itself was too significant, too potentially dangerous, to hide completely, yet too valuable to risk immediate confiscation.
He needed to frame it correctly. "He… gave me something. He said it was for… chakra control." He deliberately omitted the peeping, the strange grin, the unsettling nature of the conversation. He also kept the scroll itself hidden within his sleeve for now.
Kasumi's eyes narrowed. "Jiraiya-sama gave you something for chakra control? Why?" Her suspicion was a palpable force. "What was it, Ryuu? Show me."
"It was just… advice, Kaa-san," Ryuu lied, his gaze steady. This was a dangerous gambit.
"He said… he said my chakra signature was too… noticeable. That I needed to work on my suppression. He was… abrupt. Then he left." He focused on the part of Jiraiya's warning that resonated with his own fears, a truth that would hopefully mask the larger omission. He would examine the scroll later, alone, in secret.
Its potential value was too great to dismiss, but its origin was too suspect to reveal fully.
Kasumi stared at him for a long, unnerving moment, her mind clearly dissecting his words, searching for the deceptions she was so adept at sensing. Ryuu met her gaze, projecting an image of childish unease and a hint of fear from the unexpected encounter with such a powerful figure.
Finally, she nodded slowly. "Jiraiya-sama is… eccentric. But his advice on chakra suppression is likely sound. It is what I have been telling you."
Dinner was a tense, quiet affair. Ryuu ate mechanically, his mind racing. Later, after Kasumi had settled into her own fitful, light sleep, he carefully, silently, retrieved the scroll he had left just outside his window. In the faint moonlight filtering through their single window, he unrolled it.
It wasn't large, written in Jiraiya's surprisingly neat, almost calligraphic hand. The title, if it could be called that, was simply: "The Dance of Still Water and Shifting Winds: Musings on the Essence." Classic Jiraiya – enigmatic, almost poetic, and utterly unhelpful as a direct descriptor.
He began to read, his mind immediately recognizing the depth and complexity hidden beneath the Sannin's eccentric phrasing.
This wasn't just chakra control.
This was advanced chakra theory. It spoke of the interplay between spiritual and physical energy – Yin and Yang Release, though not named as such explicitly, were clearly alluded to.
It discussed the principles of nature transformation in a way that went far beyond the simplistic elemental affinities taught at the Academy. There were diagrams of chakra pathways, far more intricate than any Ryuu had seen in basic texts, and exercises that seemed designed to not just control chakra, but to feel its very essence, to understand its potential for change.
One section, titled "The Unseen River and the Whispering Leaf," detailed methods for extending one's senses through the natural environment, feeling the flow of ambient chakra, detecting minute disturbances, even discerning the emotional 'echoes' left behind by strong events.
It was sensory training on a level Kasumi hadn't even hinted at, far beyond simply detecting active chakra signatures. Also eerily similar to sage mode chakra sensing.
Another, "The Shaping of Nothingness," delved into the core principles of shape transformation – how to mold chakra into precise, stable forms, how to maintain those forms under duress, how to imbue them with specific properties.
It didn't list specific jutsu, but it provided the foundational understanding for creating or modifying them. It even touched upon the idea of imbuing chakra with elemental nature without resorting to full-blown, obvious jutsu.
Ryuu felt a thrill of dawning understanding, mixed with a profound sense of trepidation.
This was S-Rank knowledge, subtly disguised. Jiraiya hadn't just given him a few exercises, he had handed him a key, a dangerous, double-edged key, to unlocking a level of chakra mastery far beyond his current capabilities.
Was it a test of his intelligence? His discernment? His loyalty if he brought this to Minato? Or was it simply Jiraiya being Jiraiya?
No. Something was up here.
These theories were far above his level and would take almost years to learn, not to mention master. There had to be an underlying reason behind this. A test wasn't good enough.
Jiraiya was a Sannin, a spymaster, a sage. His actions, however eccentric, usually possessed layers of intent. To hand over knowledge of this caliber, even disguised, to a ten-year-old Genin he'd just "accidentally" encountered? It wasn't just a test of intelligence or loyalty.
It was a strategic move, a piece placed on a vast, complex board that Ryuu could only dimly perceive.
For now, all Ryuu could do was be cautious, be diligent.
He focused on the most immediate, actionable piece of Jiraiya's intervention, the blatant warning about his chakra signature. That, at least, was a clear directive, a problem he could actively work on. If he couldn't become a ghost in the sensory landscape of Konoha, then the secrets of the scroll, and his own far greater secrets, would inevitably be exposed.
His evenings, already dedicated to grueling training with Kasumi, now stretched later into the night. After Kasumi's lessons in Ice Release Ryuu would feign exhaustion, waiting until her breathing evened out in the other small room. Then, by the sliver of moonlight, he would unroll "The Dance of Still Water and Shifting Winds."
He focused first, with an almost monastic dedication, on the chakra suppression techniques implicitly woven through the scroll's teachings on sensory awareness. It wasn't just about clamping down on his chakra output.
Jiraiya's "musings" hinted at more subtle methods – attuning his chakra to the ambient energies of his surroundings, making his signature blend and diffuse like mist, rather than simply trying to snuff it out like a candle.
It was incredibly difficult, demanding a level of concentration and internal awareness that left him mentally drained, his head throbbing. He would sit for hours, trying to feel the "flow" of the night, the subtle energies of the sleeping village, and then, even more arduously, try to make his own small, cold signature resonate with it, become a part of it, indistinguishable.
Days were filled with Genma's relentless team training.
The C-Rank mission, their first lethal encounter as a reconstituted unit, had laid bare their individual and collective flaws. Genma, his usual lazy drawl now laced with a steel edge born of near-catastrophe, pushed them harder than ever.
Teamwork drills became intricate, demanding absolute trust and non-verbal communication. Renji's aggressive charges were reined in, forced into coordinated maneuvers with Izumi's precise counter-attacks. Izumi, in turn, was drilled on expanding her Sharingan's awareness beyond single targets, on processing multiple threats simultaneously.
And Ryuu… Genma focused on Ryuu's hesitation, his decision-making under pressure. He would create sudden, chaotic scenarios, barking orders, demanding instant reactions. "Yuki! Threat assessment, three seconds! Kazama is down, Uchiha is pinned! What's your move? Move!"
The memory of Kenta, the weight of his failure, was a constant goad.
Ryuu learned to push past the analytical paralysis, to make a decision, any decision, and commit to it, even if it was wrong. He learned to channel the cold dread into a colder focus. His sensory skills, already sharp, were honed further, Genma constantly testing his range, his accuracy, his ability to filter out distractions and pinpoint true threats.
He started, cautiously, to apply some of the less overtly magical principles from Jiraiya's scroll during these drills. The "Unseen River" exercises, which spoke of feeling the intent and emotional echoes of others, helped him anticipate Genma's surprise attacks or Renji's impulsive lunges with slightly more accuracy.
He still lacked the physical prowess to always counter effectively, but his ability to predict was improving, earning him grudging nods from Genma and surprised glances from Izumi.
——————————————————————————————————
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows from the Hokage Monument, bathing the village below in a warm, golden light. Atop the Fourth Hokage's stone head, a place Minato often came to think, Jiraiya was slouched comfortably, legs dangling over the precipice, a sake gourd in hand. His gaze was distant, thoughtful, fixed on the sprawling village he had, in his own way, always sought to protect.
A faint shimmer of golden light, and Minato Namikaze appeared beside him, his Hokage haori stirring in the slight breeze. He looked weary, the lines of responsibility etched a little deeper around his sharp blue eyes than they had been six years prior, before Obito's attack had nearly torn their world apart.
"Sensei," Minato greeted, his voice carrying the quiet authority of his office, but also the familiar respect he held for his teacher. "Enjoying the view?"
Jiraiya took a long swig from his gourd. "Always, Minato. Always. Konoha looks… peaceful today. Deceptively so, perhaps."
He glanced at his former student.
"You look like you haven't slept in a week. More trouble with the Uchiha? Or is it the Akatsuki finally making a move?"
Minato sighed, running a hand through his blond hair.
"The Uchiha are… a persistent bunch, sensei. Fugaku is holding the line, especially after Danzo's… removal. Shisui's full recovery, both eyes intact thanks to Tsunade's skill and the intel we recovered from Root, has calmed things significantly. Having one of their Mangekyō users healed and loyal, rather than a victim of a rogue Konoha elder, has done wonders for de-escalation. They are more integrated, more involved in village security beyond just the Police Force. But the distrust, on both sides, it lingers. It will take a generation, maybe more, to truly heal."
He looked out over the village. "As for Akatsuki… your network has been invaluable. The reports from Amegakure are… concerning. This 'Pain' figure, Nagato's supposed transformation… it's a powder keg. And their recruitment of missing-nin continues."
"The Bloody Mist isn't helping either," Jiraiya grumbled. "Yagura's reign of terror, the Kekkei Genkai purges continuing… it's creating a flood of desperate, powerful rogues. Perfect fodder for Akatsuki." He took another drink. "And then there's Obito."
The name, even after six years, hung heavy between them. Six years since Minato had faced his former student, the boy he thought dead, now a harbinger of destruction. Six years of hunting shadows, of chasing a ghost who could slip through their fingers like smoke.
"He's been quiet," Minato said. "Too quiet. Since I severed his direct control over Kurama and marked him with the Hiraishin seal, he's been more cautious. We've had… fleeting contacts. Kakashi has pursued him relentlessly, but his space-time jutsu is a difficult beast to corner."
He looked at Jiraiya. "Has your network picked up anything new? Anything concrete?"
Jiraiya swirled the sake in his gourd. "Whispers. Always whispers. Rumors of a masked man with a single Sharingan meeting with unsavory types in minor villages along the border of Wind Country. Nothing solid enough for Kakashi to act on. He's growing stronger, Minato. More patient. More… Madara-like, if the old bastard was ever truly patient."
"The 'Madara' persona is a useful shield for him," Minato conceded. "It creates fear, uncertainty. But we know the truth." He paused. "Danzo's defeat bought us time, sensei. It removed a significant internal threat, a cancer within the village. But Obito, Akatsuki, the underlying tensions between villages… the storm is still gathering."
Jiraiya nodded slowly. "Which brings me to… interesting variables." He turned, his gaze suddenly sharp, perceptive. "Genma's little Genin team. Team Twelve. Specifically, the Yuki boy. Ryuu."
Minato's expression didn't change, but his blue eyes focused intently on Jiraiya. "You've taken an interest, sensei?"
Jiraiya chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Let's just say I had a… chance encounter. The boy is… unusual. More than just the Kekkei Genkai. There's a stillness to him, an oldness in those unsettling red eyes. And his chakra signature… it was like trying to spot a particularly well-hidden toad in a very deep pond. For a Genin, even a talented one, that level of suppression is… noteworthy."
"Kasumi-san has been training him diligently in control and suppression, as per my directive," Minato said, his voice neutral. "His abilities are a significant asset, but also a significant risk, especially given Kiri's current… climate."
"Indeed," Jiraiya said, taking another swig. "And a risk often requires… unconventional nurturing. Or perhaps, a little nudge in an interesting direction, just to see which way the tadpole swims."
He grinned, that familiar, infuriatingly enigmatic Sannin grin. "I may have… left him a little something to ponder. Some 'musings on the essence,' as it were."
Minato's eyebrow rose. "Sensei. You didn't."
"Just some advanced chakra theory, Minato. Nothing he can't handle. Or perhaps, everything he shouldn't," Jiraiya said, his grin widening. "Consider it a… long-term investment in Konoha's more… interesting assets. Or a test of your own oversight. How will you handle a Yuki prodigy who might just be a tad too smart, too controlled, for his own good? Especially one who now has access to ideas far beyond his pay grade?"
He looked out at the setting sun, painting the Hokage faces in hues of orange and purple. "The prophecy, Minato… it spoke of a child who would bring great change. We thought it was you. Then perhaps it was Nagato. But the future is a river with many currents. And sometimes, the most interesting fish swim in the deepest, unexpected pools."
Minato stared at his sensei, a mixture of exasperation, concern, and a grudging understanding in his eyes. Jiraiya, even in times of relative peace, could never resist stirring the waters, playing his own long, inscrutable games. And Ryuu Yuki, it seemed, had just become one of his newest, most intriguing pieces.
The weight of his Hokage hat felt a little heavier. Another volatile element added to an already complex equation.
He could only hope Jiraiya's "nudge" wouldn't send this particular tadpole swimming into waters far too deep, too dangerous, for even the Yellow Flash to easily retrieve him from.