"When proficiency reaches its peak…" Jiraiya murmured to himself, "Tedious steps can be simplified. For the same ninjutsu, others might need five hand seals, but you only need two to activate it. Even more, some can perform single-handed seals, or even cast without any seals at all! As for the Jiraiya in the original story, in his later stages, he could even use his feet to form hand seals and release ninjutsu… that is true peak mastery." Thinking of this, he was filled with anticipation for the future and a craving for challenges.
He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and his hands began to move. His fingers flew, starting with the "Boar" seal, transforming sequentially: fingertips overlapping, separating, intertwining, pressing… Though his movements weren't as fast as lightning, they were exceptionally smooth and steady. A complete set of twelve seals took about ten seconds. For a four-year-old child, and without systematic guidance, this fluidity was already remarkable, though the system's bonus certainly played a part.
"Phew…" He exhaled a turbid breath and stopped practicing. Sweat slightly dampened his bangs. "Half an hour of focused practice, that's enough." He knew his body was still developing, and the principle of 'too much is as bad as too little.' A solid foundation was important, but rushing things would only be counterproductive. Without a renowned teacher, he could only rely on his past life's knowledge and his perception of his body, carefully exploring his limits.
After finishing his hand seal practice, Jiraiya walked to the desk in his bedroom. Under the dim lamplight, he spread out a clean manuscript paper and picked up a pen. What to write? A thought flashed through his mind—"Young Dong Dong"! The classic, popular plots from his previous life, after his "localization" process, would definitely cause a stir in this entertainment-starved ninja world!
The pen tip scratched across the paper, making a rustling sound. He immersed himself in the excitement of creation; the characters on the page were vivid, the plot was full of twists and turns, and the descriptions were meticulous and highly immersive. As he wrote to a thrilling part, he unconsciously grinned, letting out a few low, 'hehe' chuckles, tinged with a hint of lewdness and pride. More than an hour passed unknowingly, and seven or eight pages of densely written text already covered the manuscript paper.
"Ah? It's already 10:40 PM!" Jiraiya glanced at the old alarm clock on the desk and was startled. In the ninja world, where early bedtimes and early risers were common, this was definitely considered staying up late. He quickly dropped his pen, rushed to the bathroom, haphazardly splashed cold water on his face, brushed his teeth, and then flopped onto the freshly made bed.
Chakra refinement? Not needed. After successfully refining chakra for the first time upon enrollment, the amount of chakra would naturally increase with the body's growth and the strengthening of mental energy. As for cases like Might Guy and Rock Lee, it wasn't that they had no chakra, but rather that their extraordinary talent was entirely focused on taijutsu. Chakra, after all, is the perfect fusion of spiritual and physical energy.
"Perhaps it's because of the transmigration… the superposition of souls led to a surge in mental energy?" Jiraiya closed his eyes, feeling the power flowing within him. Coupled with the system's ten-year continuous physical enhancement, the effect was immediate—when he first transmigrated today, his chakra volume instantly doubled, directly soaring to the level of a Genin! "In the future, I'll definitely have much more chakra than my original self!" He drifted into sleep with a sense of satisfaction.
"Ding-a-ling—!!!"
The sharp, piercing alarm clock sound, like an awl, harshly pierced the morning's tranquility. Jiraiya, as if electrocuted, shot up from the bed, groggily fumbling to turn off the noisy metal contraption. "It's only six-thirty…" He groaned in pain, rubbing his messy white hair, "Although I cherish my time at school, this damn early rising… it's torture!" He dragged his heavy feet, stumbling into the bathroom as if sleepwalking.
About twenty minutes later, Jiraiya, having barely finished washing up, grabbed his cartoon insulated lunchbox containing a warm meal and rushed out of the house like a gust of wind. "Oh no, oh no! I'm going to be late!" He ran wildly through the slightly deserted streets of the early morning. His destination wasn't school, but Orochimaru's house. The two lived along the same route and had agreed to meet at Orochimaru's doorstep every morning at seven.
By the time he arrived, panting and sweating profusely, the clock hands had already quietly moved past seven-oh-three. Orochimaru was already waiting there, holding his characteristic purple lunch bag. In the morning light, his slender figure appeared somewhat frail, his pale face devoid of expression, and his golden snake-like eyes calmly swept over the disheveled Jiraiya.
"Idiot," a calm, unruffled voice spoke, "You're late."
"Hehe," Jiraiya scratched his head awkwardly, trying to cover it with a loud laugh, "Just… just a tiny bit late! Last night… well, I got too absorbed in conceptualizing a new ninjutsu!" His gaze fell on the lunchbox in Orochimaru's hand, and he immediately held up his own insulated box like a treasured offering, "Look! I made it myself! I practiced for ages, you absolutely must try it at lunch! I guarantee it's delicious!" As he spoke, he habitually reached out his arm, intending to sling it over Orochimaru's shoulder again.
Orochimaru's body instantly tensed, his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and his voice was icy: "No need. I brought my own lunch. And, your hand."
"Alright, alright, I get it." Jiraiya mumbled in response, but his arm still stubbornly draped over Orochimaru's shoulder, looking like old pals. Orochimaru silently glanced at the bothersome hand, but ultimately didn't forcefully shake it off, merely starting to walk forward. The sunlight stretched the two figures, arms around each other, into long shadows.
When the two entered the classroom, Tsunade was already sitting at her desk, flipping through a notebook. Seeing them, she looked up, her beautiful large eyes curving into crescents, her smile as bright as the rising sun outside the window: "Good morning, Jiraiya! Good morning, Orochimaru!"
"Morning, Tsunade." Orochimaru responded blandly, walking to his seat to put down his backpack and lunchbox.
"Morning, Tsunade!" Jiraiya immediately let go of Orochimaru, greeting her with an exaggerated and comical gesture, and said with a cheeky grin, "After just one day, you seem to have become even prettier, Tsunade!"
"Huh?!" Tsunade clearly hadn't expected such a sudden remark from Jiraiya; her small face instantly flushed with two rosy spots, and she seemed a bit flustered. She quickly changed the subject, her gaze falling on Jiraiya's insulated lunchbox, with a hint of curiosity: "Oh? Jiraiya, you brought a bento today? I've never seen you bring one before?" She remembered he used to just eat bread or grab something outside.
"Hehe, that's right!" Jiraiya patted the lunchbox like he was showing off a treasure, "This great chef has been diligently researching for several days and has finally perfected it! At lunch, I'll let you and Orochimaru taste my cooking; I guarantee it will open your eyes and you won't forget it after one bite!" He looked smug, as if he could already see them being conquered by his delicious food.
"Really? Is that true?" Tsunade's attention was indeed drawn by the food, her eyes sparkling, "Then it's settled, I want to try it at lunch!"
"No problem! Leave it to me!" Jiraiya promised, thumping his chest.