Naruto: Super Ninja

The shopping process ended calmly and pleasantly for me. My shadow clones handled all the necessary preparations while I eased Mebuki's moral burden after our conversation.

When I returned home, my mother was already waiting in my room. All the essentials for the trip were neatly laid out. The joy of my return still lingered, but we all understood there was work to be done—after all, in just over ten hours, I had to leave.

"Let's check everything once more," my mother said, kneeling before my backpack, which had already been unpacked. The most important items were the tent, weapons, and medical supplies. Only after that came various survival tools, followed by spare clothes.

"Looks good," I said after inspecting my uniform, which had required some repairs and extra armor. I really needed to learn the sealing technique for storing items in scrolls; without it, things would be much harder for me.

"Did you forget anything important?" she asked, giving the backpack's contents one last critical look.

"No, everything's in place," I assured her.

She nodded in satisfaction as we packed everything one last time. Shortly after, my father peeked into the room, carrying two small cups of sake. My mother shot him a brief, disapproving glance.

"Suzuki, shall we talk?" he asked, tilting the cups slightly.

Honestly, I didn't expect this at all. As I followed my father, my nervous excitement turned into surprise. We had never spoken like this before—alone, and certainly not over sake.

The kitchen was warm from the stove, and the scent of dinner still lingered in the air. My father sat at the table, gesturing for me to do the same before pouring sake into the cups.

"You're growing up, Suzuki," he said, looking at me through the steam rising from his cup. "And now you're heading out on a journey. With a Sannin… That's a great honor, but also a great responsibility. I'm sure you already understand that."

I nodded, unsure of what to say. My father was a man of few words, and his sudden speech caught me off guard.

"Well, it's not just a journey—it's training," I replied.

He nodded, accepting my words. His gaze was filled with support, tinged with slight concern.

"I understand. It will be difficult. And though I've never lived the life of a shinobi, I know you'll face many trials." He took a sip of sake, staring thoughtfully at the cup. "But you're my son. And I believe you'll handle it. All I can do is support you as a father."

"Thank you," I said. His support was genuinely reassuring. Not that I desperately needed it, but it was nice.

After that, I went to rest. My head swirled with thoughts of how everything would unfold. I fell asleep quickly and easily—there was no lingering anxiety in me.

In the morning, I woke up instantly and smoothly. I took my time getting ready before setting off on my journey. My mother and father were already awake, simply waiting for my departure. Of course, they would have preferred that I stayed home and helped with household matters, but training and growth were more important.

"Did you pack everything?" my mother asked once more.

"Affirmative," I replied confidently. She rolled her eyes at my response but smiled.

"Alright, it's time for me to go."

"Good luck," she exhaled.

"Suzuki," my father addressed me. "Squeeze everything you can out of the Sannin."

"Don't worry, Father," I replied.

My mother hugged me, and my father shook my hand. After that, I turned and set off. I still needed to meet up with the Sannin, but that wasn't an issue. Konoha was already bustling with activity—if it even truly slept at all. Shinobi tended to their duties, and civilians began their daily routines.

The Eastern Gates of Konoha, unlike the grand Southern or imposing Northern gates, were modest in size. They were narrower and more compact, their contours slightly hunched as if shrinking in embarrassment. A tattered flag bearing the village's symbol swayed above the archway.

This was the usual passage for shinobi and small-scale merchants with little to trade. The clatter of carts and the hushed murmur of voices created a steady, unhurried hum.

As I reached the gates, I let a trickle of natural energy seep into my body. My senses sharpened—colors became richer, sounds crisper. Spreading out invisible threads of awareness, I searched for Jiraiya. It didn't take long to find him. He stood on the rooftop of a nearby building.

Turning in his direction, I waited. He realized almost immediately that I had spotted him and leaped down, heading toward me. He looked exactly as he always did—white hair, a red cloak, that strange forehead protector. In short, he stood out dramatically and didn't blend in with the people around him at all. But he didn't need to—his strength was on the level of a Kage. People like him weren't just ordinary guys, and they certainly didn't care what civilians thought of their clothing.

"Good morning, Jiraiya-san," I greeted him.

"Morning," he grumbled, sounding somewhat displeased. "For some, at least. I see you're ready to go?"

"Yes, sensei," I replied. "I'm ready."

"Good." He nodded and started walking toward the gates. "Then let's go."

"Right."

We left Konoha quickly and set off on our journey. Jiraiya walked ahead, wearing a rather dissatisfied expression. Was he genuinely annoyed, or just putting on an act for someone? Hopefully, it was the latter—I didn't want to start my training with my teacher in a bad mood.

We walked in silence. Neither of us tried to start a conversation. After a few hours, Jiraiya gestured with his hand, veering off the main road. I followed him.

"Alright," he began. "First things first—remove all identifying Konoha insignia."

"Why?" I asked, surprised, as I started taking off parts of my uniform.

"Because we're travelers, not shinobi," he said calmly. "We shouldn't draw attention to ourselves for now."

"Understood," I replied and quickly changed into simple clothing, blending in with ordinary civilians. Nothing flashy like Jiraiya's outfit, but I didn't have anything like that anyway. No big deal.

"Good." He nodded, rubbing his chin. "Now, your mission is to accompany me. I have a few tasks from the Hokage that need to be completed. At the same time, I'll be training you using a very interesting method."

"What kind?" I asked. He paused slightly, as if waiting for me to ask the question myself.

"Shadow Clones," he answered with a satisfied smirk. "We'll each create five clones. Each clone will train in a specific area, just like you will with me."

"Got it," I nodded, already forming a rough idea of how this would go.

"Then what are you waiting for?" he asked. "Create five clones."

I formed a few hand seals, and five clones appeared beside me. Jiraiya did the same. His five clones quickly took my clones and led them off in different directions.

"And you and I will keep moving forward," he said once the clones had dispersed.

We started walking.

"Our first destination is the Fire Temple," the Sannin continued. "We'll stay there for a while so I can take care of some things, and then we'll return to the road."

"Understood," I nodded. "What will I be training in?"

"You'll work on taijutsu, a bit of genjutsu, and ninjutsu. Additionally, you'll study some sealing techniques," he said. "Any proper jonin should at least be able to create basic seals for convenience."

"Sounds good," I nodded again. "I'm ready to do whatever it takes."

"Of course, you'll be ready," he chuckled. "You don't have a choice—one way or another, you will reach jonin level."

That sounded like a threat… and honestly, I wasn't sure how he could force me to become a jonin if I had no desire to. Maybe by sheer force? But that would be ridiculous. Good thing I already wanted to reach jonin as soon as possible.

"Alright," was all I said in response.

"Then let's begin our first lesson," Jiraiya said. "Let's go with… fūinjutsu. What do you know about this shinobi art?"

"Fūinjutsu allows the creation of various types of seals," I answered, recalling what I had read in books. "They enable actions that would otherwise be impossible under normal conditions."

"That's a very general explanation," Jiraiya snorted. "But it's accurate enough. Seals can accomplish a great many things, but it's not a simple art. It requires a lot of talent—and even more persistence. It might be the only field where persistence alone isn't enough to reach true mastery."

"I see," I murmured. "So what would be the peak for someone without talent?"

"For them, it would be the creation of seals with three functions: sealing, containment, and unsealing. Explosive tags and other seals with two or fewer functions fall below that level. But for someone with both talent and hard work, the peak is far greater—sealing techniques, sealing chakra-based beings, sealing space itself… or even chakra itself."

"Hmm," I hummed in thought. "And at what level do you personally master this art, Jiraiya-san?"

"Hard to say," he replied after a brief pause. "I can restore some complex seals, like the ones used on a jinchūriki, for example."

"Jinchūriki? You mean the hosts of bijū?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. The Shinobi Academy never officially taught us about them, so technically, I wasn't supposed to have that information.

"Correct," he nodded. "I can restore such a seal, strengthen it, or weaken it, but without the proper preparation, I wouldn't be able to seal a bijū myself."

"I see," I nodded. "Still, that already seems like a lot."

"Of course," he chuckled. "But… I'll push you to jonin level, at least enough for you to understand the basics of this art."

"Thank you," I exhaled.

At that moment, one of my clones dispersed, sending me a small portion of its gathered information. It had been working on an Earth Style technique—one that was quite dangerous and still nearly beyond my capabilities. Honestly, even using it properly seemed difficult for me.

"Oh," Jiraiya muttered, likely receiving information from his own clone as well. "Looks like one of yours is gone. Make a new one."

"Got it," I replied, forming another clone. The Sannin did the same, and our new clones quickly went off together while we continued walking.

We moved at a steady, unhurried pace, staying on the lower paths rather than taking to the trees. As we walked, Jiraiya gave me valuable insights on how to properly form and create fūinjutsu, as well as which materials worked best for different seals. The dense forest stretched around us like towering walls of trees, their thick canopies sometimes blocking out the sunlight.

Then, another wave of information hit me as another of my clones dispersed. This one had been training with Fire Style techniques. Apparently, the technique it attempted backfired, causing the clone's body to explode like a balloon filled with combustible material. And… the pain carried over. Last time, I hadn't felt anything because the clone had died instantly. This time, though, it was different. The destruction had been nearly immediate, but it still managed to bring a sliver of pain back with it.

"What do you think," Jiraiya suddenly asked, "why is the Shadow Clone Jutsu classified as forbidden, yet so widely used among Konoha's shinobi?"

"Hmm," I hummed, thinking for a moment. "I'd guess it's because of its incredible ability to transfer chakra and information. That's probably why it's forbidden. But… Konoha's shinobi continue to use it because it's simply too useful to give up."

"I like the way you think. But your answer is slightly off," the Sannin replied. "It's especially useful for those who can wield natural energy. Sannin can create clones, have them meditate and gather natural energy, then dispel them to absorb the energy without any risks. The jutsu was originally created by the Second Hokage for the First Hokage, who was—and still is—considered a great master of natural energy. But in the end, he didn't need it, since he had his own unique methods of gathering it."

"Jiraiya-san, what if I make my clones absorb natural energy before they go off to train with you?" I suggested.

Sunlight peeked through the thick foliage above us, casting shimmering reflections on the smooth surface of a nearby river. A cool breeze carried the fresh scents of the forest.

"Hmm… give it a try," he said after a few seconds of thought. "It definitely won't hurt you."

With a single thought, I dispersed all my clones at once. A small amount of chakra returned to me along with the knowledge they had gathered. My head ached slightly from the sudden influx of information, but the natural energy they had absorbed instantly soothed both the pain and the fatigue.

Then, I created a new set of clones. This time, they quickly absorbed a bit of natural energy before heading off to train. The Toad Sannin also summoned his own clones, which once again scattered in all directions alongside mine.

"Let's keep moving," the Sannin said. "I suppose I can now tell you how these next six months will go."

I immediately focused, ready to absorb everything he had to say. Not that I needed much explanation—I was prepared to follow his orders regardless.

"Our first stop is the Fire Temple," he began. "After that, we'll travel along the borderlands of the Land of Fire, and we may even cross into a buffer country at some point. In addition, every day, you'll spend two hours training in chakra control. After that, we'll keep walking while your clones train. During our midday break, I'll test you on all the information you've retained. Then, we'll continue walking, and your clones will keep training. In the evening, you'll have sparring sessions, followed by physical conditioning and shinobi skill drills. After that—more chakra control training, then sleep."

"Whoa," I muttered. "Yeah… my days are going to be tough."

"What did you expect?" the man snorted.

For our first meal break, we stopped at a high riverbank. A fast, rocky river rushed through its stone-carved path, churning and foaming. A long suspension bridge, named the Yamamoto Bridge, stretched across the river, linking the two shores.

At the bridge's entrance stood a small sign with an ornate inscription and an elegant clan symbol. The Yamamoto Clan was unfamiliar to me—most likely, they had either died out long ago or had never played a significant role in the shinobi world. Perhaps they once had ninja of their own, but none had ever gained recognition, even at a local level.

A few peasants moved slowly across the bridge, their backs bent under the weight of bundled sacks and tied parcels. Thick, rough ropes dug into their shoulders, leaving red marks on their skin. Their reinforced boots clunked monotonously against the wooden planks as they walked, swaying the bridge with each measured step.

The last man in their group cast a tired but indifferent glance at us from beneath tangled strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. His face was dirty and covered in stubble, deep wrinkles framing his eyes—like life had chewed him up and spat him out. But he simply gave a brief nod before hurrying to catch up with the others, vanishing into the crowd.

The old bridge groaned and swayed as the travelers continued on their way, hunched under their burdens. Only the rhythmic shuffle of footsteps, the creak of drying wood, and the murmur of rushing water broke the surrounding tranquility.

"They're the Wandering Feet," Jiraiya said calmly. "They roam the country searching for a better fate, but… their fate is to always be on the road. They're born on the road, and they die on it. They're an interesting group because they always have some kind of useful information. Remember this—for a small price, they can tell you many things. Not all of it will be useful to you… but still."

"I understand," I nodded. "Is there anyone among them who could stand against a shinobi?"

"No," Jiraiya shook his head. "If any of them show even the slightest talent, they're immediately recruited elsewhere. So… the adults in this group wouldn't stand a chance against a shinobi. But… when it comes to gathering information, they can be invaluable."