On the other side of town, the night buzzed with noise and laughter. Music spilled from open tavern doors, and the streets glowed under rows of lanterns.
Inside one of the liveliest bars sat Jiraiya, the Legendary Sannin himself—white hair tied back, a cup of sake in hand, eyes scanning the crowd for "research."
He leaned lazily on the counter, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as a group of women passed by, their perfume cutting through the thick scent of alcohol and grilled food.
' Now that one's got the walk of a heartbreaker,' he mused, tilting his head slightly.
Truth be told, he had no idea where Naruto had gone. A letter had been left for him earlier at the inn, but he hadn't bothered reading it.
"Probably another flyer for those swinger parties…" he muttered with a shiver.
Jiraiya grimaced at the memory—his hand tightening around the sake cup.
He had made a vow after one particularly unfortunate incident in an inn at the outskirts of the Fire Country.
He'd thought he was being invited to a women-only event. Turned out, one overly "friendly" man had taken a bit too much interest in the great Toad Sage.
"Never again," he growled under his breath, tossing back the rest of his drink in one gulp.
He set the cup down and rubbed his temple. "Three weeks left before I've gotta return to the Leaf. And what have I got on the Akatsuki? Just whispers and rumors."
His tone darkened slightly, eyes narrowing as he stared into the reflection of the sake bottle. "Nothing concrete… yet. But I'll crack this case eventually. I always do."
He stood, pushing the stool back with a scrape, and tossed a few coins onto the counter.
'Just gotta keep Naruto out of trouble till then… Speaking of which—where is that knucklehead?'
Jiraiya wandered through the streets, blending easily into the nighttime crowd despite his distinctive look. Every now and then, he'd spot a man glaring from across the road—usually the jealous husband of one of his "research subjects."
"Ah, crap." He ducked behind a passing cart, pretending to browse at a stand full of rice cakes until the man passed. "Heh, close one."
After a few more evasive maneuvers and sidelong glances, he finally returned to the inn. As he climbed the stairs, he noticed a folded letter lying on the floor in front of his door.
"Huh?" He picked it up, breaking the seal and scanning the contents.
"Oh, so he went off to train," Jiraiya muttered, scratching his chin. "Good. Kid's finally taking initiative."
He paused midway through the page, eyes flicking to a certain line.
"Except that training… nope. He's not ready for that one yet," he said to himself, chuckling quietly. "He'd probably blow up the whole forest trying."
He tossed the letter onto the nightstand and poured himself another cup of sake.
"Well, he's in the woods somewhere. He'll be fine. Kid's got my bloodline of genius in him—minus the looks, maybe."
With that, Jiraiya leaned back, humming to himself as the night outside deepened.
---
Meanwhile, back in the forest, Naruto was struggling against the resistance of his new weighted gear. Sweat dripped down his temples, his breath coming out in short, ragged bursts. Each step felt like dragging a boulder tied to his legs.
"C-come on," he panted, pushing forward as his sandals dug into the dirt.
The forest floor crunched beneath him, and the rustling of leaves followed each sluggish movement. His jumps were slower, heavier—but he refused to stop.
He tried sprinting from one tree to another, chakra pushing through his soles, only to stumble and crash to his knees.
"Man, this is torture," he groaned, forcing himself back up. His limbs trembled, but that determined spark still burned in his eyes.
' It's fine… it's just one week. I can handle this. I have to.'
He began jogging again, slow but steady, the moonlight casting silver streaks through the branches above.
The rhythm of his breathing and the dull thud of his weighted steps echoed through the woods—a steady beat of persistence and willpower.
It was going to be a long week. And Naruto knew it better than anyone.
....
Five days later.
Deep within the untamed forest of an unnamed town, the early morning air was cool and sharp. The rising sun spilled gold through the leaves, cutting streaks of light over the clearing where Naruto's relentless training continued.
His orange jumpsuit was darkened with sweat, clinging tightly to his frame. Weighted clothes tugged at every movement, but his stride was smooth now—controlled, powerful.
His sandals kicked up dirt as he sprinted full speed through the clearing, turning sharply at the tree line and darting back again in a blur.
Each sprint ended with a quick pivot, and each pivot with a flick of his wrist—kunai flashing through the air like silver lightning.
Fwoosh—thunk!
The blade tore through the air, slicing a clean path before burying itself deep into the bark of a distant tree. The impact echoed through the forest.
"Dead center," Naruto muttered, lips curving into a grin.
Without slowing, he drew another kunai and hurled it mid-sprint, his breathing sharp and rhythmic.
Thwak!
It landed perfectly beside the first.
Dozens of kunai already riddled the trunk, each lodged within a tight grouping, the marks of countless hours of repetition and focus. He didn't stop—not for a break, not for comfort.
The forest floor bore witness to his persistence: trampled earth, footprints, and fallen leaves scattered everywhere.
An hour passed. Then two. By the third, Naruto finally slowed to a halt, chest heaving, sweat rolling freely down his neck. He bent over, hands on his knees, panting hard as the morning sun climbed higher.
"Ughh… that was hell," he groaned, straightening his back and stretching his arms behind his head. "But worth it. I finally learned how to throw kunai like someone with a Sharingan."
A small, breathless laugh escaped him. ' Man, having that would make life easier—but no shortcuts.'
He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, the faint weight of his sweat-soaked training shirt pressing down on his shoulders.
Over the last five days, he had adjusted perfectly to the load. The weights barely slowed him anymore; they had become a second skin.
He'd even swum across the deep river wearing them—an idea that turned into near disaster. If he hadn't tied a rope to the bank before jumping in, the currents would've dragged him under for good. He'd learned that lesson the hard way.
But Naruto wasn't just pushing his body—he was sharpening his chakra control too. Each night, dozens of clones practiced focus drills, balancing leaves on their fingertips, channeling chakra through stones, and even walking up tree trunks and across the surface of the river without slipping.
His progress had been explosive—literally.
As Naruto walked back toward his campsite, the forest bore silent testimony to his training. Trees stood shredded or snapped clean in half, and the remnants of a massive boulder lay scattered across the ground like rubble. Craters, scorched patches, and scorched logs marked the ground, proof of chakra bursts gone wrong.
"Good thing this isn't the Leaf Village," he muttered, scratching his cheek sheepishly as he passed by the destruction.
When he reached his campsite, several shadow clones were sparring furiously, their punches and kicks sending ripples through the air. All of them were wearing weighted gear too, their movements synchronized like mirror images of his own.
Naruto chuckled, folding his arms.
' Having clones really is a cheat, ' he thought proudly.
He stepped into the clearing and began unfastening his weights one by one. As the clasps released, the first vest dropped with a heavy THUD that shook the dirt beneath him. Then came the pants, the shoes—each piece landing like a cannonball against the ground.
Naruto rolled his shoulders, the sudden lightness making him grin. "Heh. Not nearly as heavy as Lee's or Guy-sensei's though," he said, flexing his arms. "Gotta ask for his plug when I get back."
He glanced up toward the canopy, where sunlight poured through in broken beams. His body was sore, his arms burned, but his eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction. The five days had hardened him—not just his body, but his spirit too.
And this was only the beginning.
TO BE CONTINUED