"Really?! That's awesome, dattebayo!"
Naruto's eyes shone with pure, unadulterated hero-worship as he gazed at his uncle. Even though the targets had just been ordinary, angry villagers, the way Raimon had effortlessly and flamboyantly subdued them was the coolest thing he had ever seen. The pungent smell of urine hanging in the air did little to dampen his enthusiasm.
"Let's go. I'll teach you properly when I have the time," Raimon said, ruffling Naruto's spiky blond hair.
A truly wicked thought crossed his mind. I wonder what would happen if a person was hit a thousand times in rapid succession? Would their kidneys just give up and disintegrate? He envisioned a future battlefield where thousands of Naruto's Shadow Clones, all armed with the Flying Thunder God, flickered through the enemy ranks, leaving a trail of incapacitated, twitching shinobi in their wake. The image brought a nostalgic tear to his eye.
"How nostalgic," Namikaze Raimon murmured, looking up at the sky as they walked. He remembered his last stand, surrounded by tens of thousands of shinobi from four different villages. The battlefield hadn't been a scene of epic, fiery explosions, but a grotesque landscape of incontinent ninja writhing on the ground, clutching their groins and foaming at the mouth. If he hadn't run out of chakra, he'd still be going. Still, getting that final kidney kick in on Ōnoki had been worth it. And if that damned Raikage hadn't fled so fast, he'd be suffering from chronic back pain too!
As they turned a corner, his nostalgic reverie was broken by a bizarre sight. In the distance, near the Konoha public bathhouse, a figure with ridiculously long, spiky white hair was crouched precariously on a wooden plank, staring intently through a knothole into the steamy interior. The man was giggling to himself, a trail of drool dripping from his chin onto the ground below.
"Jiraiya?" Raimon muttered, utterly speechless. Some things never changed.
"This old lecher," he said with a resigned curl of his lip. The man was still at it, just like his old teammate, Hiruzen Sarutobi. He didn't believe for a second that the Third Hokage hadn't used his Telescope Technique to peek at every bathhouse and bedroom in the village.
"Oh! That's the pervy sage—" Naruto began, his voice a little too loud.
Shh! Raimon's hand instantly clamped over Naruto's mouth.
"Uncle, what was that for?" Naruto whispered, confused.
"You're not ready to handle someone of his caliber," Raimon explained quietly. "He'd sense you coming from a mile away."
"Just watch your uncle," Raimon said with a devious grin. In his right palm, chakra swirled, condensing into a familiar, crackling drill that instinctively made one's backside clench in sympathetic pain.
"Whoa! Uncle, what jutsu is that? It's all sparkly!" Naruto whispered, his admiration growing by the second. The painful-looking technique from before had already made him a fan, but this one looked even more spectacular.
I wonder if Uncle would be stunned by my Sexy Jutsu? Naruto thought, already imagining Raimon getting a nosebleed from the transformation.
"Once we've sorted out all this Konoha nonsense, I'll teach you," Raimon promised. He had big plans for his nephew's training. As the sole heir of the Namikaze clan, he had to learn the Rasengan. And the Flying Thunder God was non-negotiable—he refused to believe Minato's son wouldn't have an aptitude for space-time ninjutsu. He imagined a thousand Shadow Clones all unleashing the Wind Thunder Spiral Ascension Electric Light Poison Dragon Drill simultaneously. He wondered if even Uchiha Madara's legendary behind could withstand such an assault.
"Watch closely, kid," Raimon instructed Naruto.
He didn't plan to permanently maim Jiraiya—just teach him a lesson he wouldn't forget. The chakra output for the drill in his hand was carefully controlled. A direct hit would mean the Toad Sage would be sleeping on his stomach and avoiding spicy food for a good two weeks. Eating anything at all would be a regrettable experience.
Before the nearby Anbu surveillance or Naruto could even blink, Raimon vanished. In a flicker of yellow, he reappeared directly behind the engrossed Jiraiya.
Jiraiya, his attention wholly captured by the 'scenery' inside, suddenly felt a deep, primal clenching in his nether regions. An ominous premonition, one he hadn't felt in over twenty years, surged through him.
This feeling...? Jiraiya's lecherous grin faltered. He started to turn his head.
His eyes widened in dawning horror. An achingly familiar, yet impossible, face filled his vision. And his gaze drifted downward, to the crackling, electric drill that was already homing in on its target.
"Nooo! Don't—!" Jiraiya's plea was cut short.
ZZZAP-THWACK!
The drill connected with a sickeningly familiar impact.
"Too brutal..." Hiruzen Sarutobi muttered, watching the entire scene unfold through his crystal ball in the Hokage's office. His own posterior tightened involuntarily. "Anbu!"
Several masked operatives appeared before him. "Hokage-sama!"
"Contact the R&D department! I want the protective plating for the standard-issue buttock guards upgraded! Double the chakra conductivity and triple the impact resistance! Now!" Hiruzen commanded, his hand unconsciously checking the armor plate discreetly fitted to his own pants. He still didn't feel safe.
Back at the bathhouse, Jiraiya was clutching his injured rear, his face a mask of agony. He fumbled in his ninja pouch, pulling out a container of high-quality hemostatic powder and desperately sprinkling it onto the wound.
"GYAAAAAH! It stings! It freaking stings!" he howled as the powder made contact, his body convulsing. "You hit so damn hard!"
He glared hatefully at the man now standing casually before him. And then, his trained senses kicked in. "This guy... he's not alive!"
"Orochimaru!" Jiraiya snarled, putting the pieces together. "He actually defiled the dead with his Edo Tensei! Of all the people to dig up, why did it have to be this one?!"
He wished he could shove Orochimaru's head into a toad's backside. Damn that snake! If I'd killed myself, would you have resurrected me just for kicks?
Jiraiya truly wished he'd died a proper death, just so Orochimaru's twisted experiment wouldn't have led to this personal humiliation.
"Well, well~ Look what we have here," Namikaze Raimon said, arms crossed, looking down at the legendary Sannin sprawled on the ground. "Who's this old peeping tom? Should I call the whole village out to see what kind of man the esteemed Third Hokage raised?"
"Hey, you old pervert! Peeping is bad, you know!" Naruto chimed in, rushing over now that the threat seemed neutralized. "How about I use my Sexy Jutsu for you instead!"
Jiraiya, looking between the two incredibly similar blonds, quickly deduced the boy's identity. This was Minato's son. Over the years, he'd purposefully kept his distance from Konoha's affairs, partly out of disappointment, partly due to his mission to search for the Child of Prophecy. And now, it seemed, he had found him.
Orochimaru, you'd better hope I don't run into you anytime soon, Jiraiya thought, directing his anger at a safer target. He didn't dare lash out at Raimon; he had no desire for a second helping of that drill. He had to admit, Raimon had gone easy on him. A full-power hit would have left him 'blooming,' not just with these superficial, stinging cuts from the wind-nature chakra.
"Hehehe~ Let's all calm down," Jiraiya said, forcing a pained but amiable smile onto his face as he struggled to his feet. He quickly shrugged off his oversized outer haori and tied it around his waist like a skirt to cover the new ventilation in his pants. "We're all family here, right? Why don't we sit down and have a nice talk?" He planned to play his trump card—his status as Minato's teacher.
"Sit down and talk?" Raimon's smile was all teeth and ill intent. "By all means, you sit down first."
Jiraiya's smile became a pained grimace. Is he kidding? If I sit down now, I'll reopen the wound!
"Hehe~ I'm good standing! Standing is healthy!" Jiraiya insisted, ignoring the throbbing pain as he straightened up. "I mean, after all, I was your little brother's sensei. Don't you think this treatment is a little... unkind?"
It was the wrong thing to say. The moment the words left his mouth, the familiar, terrifying whirring of chakra filled the air again as lightning sparked around Raimon's hand.
"You... you have the nerve to bring that up?!" Raimon's voice dropped to a deadly low.