"Mr. Zenshu!" A voice rang out from nearby.
Zenshu turned. An old man with glasses and a full head of white hair approached, accompanied by an elderly woman with narrowed eyes.
He identified them instantly: Homura Mitokado and Koharu Utatane.
"How may I address you?" Zenshu spoke softly.
"Homura Mitokado, Hokage Advisor." The old man's tone was measured, gaze fixed straight ahead. "This is Koharu Utatane, also a Hokage Advisor."
"The two elders. What brings you here?"
"I have no objections to you and your clan joining Konoha. However, Jonin are not ordinary ninjas—the missions they execute are often difficult or highly classified."
"I don't question the strength of your three Jonin candidates. But we know too little about any of you to determine what assignments would be appropriate."
The reasoning was sound. Neither Hiruzen Sarutobi nor Minato Namikaze objected.
"And how do you intend to learn more?" Zenshu's voice remained indifferent.
"By arranging a test."
As Homura finished speaking, the group arrived at an enclosed training ground.
A tall, middle-aged ninja stood at the center. He wore a forehead protector marked with the character for "Oil." White hair hung to his waist. Red markings traced beneath his eyes.
A red haori covered his brown ninja outfit. Geta on his feet, guards on both hands, and a large scroll strapped across his back.
Unmistakably—Jiraiya.
"This is Jiraiya, one of the Sannin. He will serve as the examiner." Koharu's gaze shifted to Zenshu, discreetly assessing the three figures behind him.
Toji Fushiguro, Tengen, and Choso all appeared to be in their teens or twenties. Two of them would surely be the other Jonin candidates.
"Then this old man shall go first." Zenshu walked toward the training ground.
Seeing those eyes—like condensed blue light—Jiraiya spoke with unusual respect. "Mr. Zenshu, please forgive my offense."
"Relax. This old man still has a few tricks."
The moment battle commenced, Jiraiya activated the Wild Lion's Mane Technique.
Strands of white hair shot toward Zenshu with incredible speed.
Yet Zenshu seemed unable to react—merely watching the attack approach.
CRACK.
The airborne hair lashed downward like a whip, slamming into the ground and pressing firmly into the dirt.
Jiraiya's pupils contracted. He felt tremendous force—as if a massive weight was crushing his hair.
But nothing visible sat upon it. The space above remained empty.
"Fire Release: Flame Bullet!"
Jiraiya formed seals, condensing chakra into oil and expelling it violently. The stream ignited into a large, adhesive fireball.
This modification made the flames far more powerful than ordinary fire techniques.
The instant the flames entered a six-meter radius, they dropped suddenly—slamming to the ground and spreading into a suppressed sea of fire.
The blaze burned weakly, as if crushed beneath invisible weight.
"A decent technique." Zenshu's slightly eerie voice echoed across the field. "But too scattered."
He raised his right hand. A black point condensed before his palm.
The flames on the distant ground were instantly drawn toward it. Viscous lines of fire spiraled inward like water down a drain.
In the blink of an eye, they compressed into a fireball the size of a fingertip.
Jiraiya didn't hesitate. He formed a seal and stomped the ground.
A thick stone wall erupted upward.
The concentrated fireball launched forward. The instant it struck—
BOOM.
A burst of flame spanning ten meters exploded outward. Scorching heat warped the air. A searing shockwave spread in all directions.
"What technique was that?" Hiruzen Sarutobi produced his pipe and took a slow draw.
That ability barely resembled ninjutsu. Almost no hand seals had been formed.
It looked more like a Kekkei Genkai. His gaze shifted to Zenji and the others.
His attention lingered on the three adults momentarily before settling on Zenji.
Young as he was, this one had been explicitly named the next Clan Head.
"Reversal of Eight Directions." Zenji remained silent a moment before answering. "A technique specializing primarily in Earth Release."
He offered only a name and inconsequential details.
"Reversal of Eight Directions? Not a bad name." Orochimaru murmured nearby.
The method of returning enemy attacks replayed in his mind.
Hiruzen fell silent. Though the boy was the designated heir, he was ultimately only six years old.
One question was acceptable. Pressing further would be beneath his dignity.
He could ask Zenshu later. After all, it was merely a secret technique.
The fire and smoke dispersed. The half-meter-thick rock wall had been shattered to pieces.
Somewhat scorched white hair formed armor-like protection before Jiraiya.
"Whoa! Almost didn't make it!" He patted flames from his body, knocking away charcoal-like strands of singed hair.
Looking at Zenshu—who hadn't taken any offensive initiative—Jiraiya scratched his head.
The opponent's ability to condense and rebound attacks essentially neutralized most long-range techniques.
Chakra rapidly condensed in his palm, forming a Rasengan. The next instant, he charged.
Zenshu frowned, his gaze drifting behind Jiraiya.
Is he dissatisfied? Or...
Shaking his head slightly, he watched Jiraiya enter the six-meter radius.
His focus sharpened.
Gravity within that zone shifted instantly.
Jiraiya's foot met empty air. His entire body flipped and floated upward.
"Hey, hey! What's happening?" He flailed like a swimmer, shouting loudly.
Hiruzen's face darkened immediately. This fool was making a spectacle of himself again.
"Jonin Zenshu's test is sufficient. Let's proceed to the next candidate."
Zenshu regarded Jiraiya—thrashing in midair like a beached octopus.
He extended one hand and flicked his finger.
Poof.
The airborne Jiraiya dispersed into smoke. Not the real body at all—merely a shadow clone.
Just as I suspected.
Zenshu withdrew the gravity field, turned, and walked back.
At the spot where Jiraiya had initially stood, the ground rippled slightly. The real Jiraiya surfaced slowly.
"Who's next?" His loud laugh rang out, completely ignoring the stares around him.
Toji Fushiguro walked forward in silence. Even his footsteps made no sound.
Without direct visual confirmation, almost no one present could detect him.
Even sensory ninjas would fail—their abilities simply weren't strong enough.
In the entire venue, only Minato Namikaze could sense Toji without using his eyes, relying on vague perception alone.
I can barely tell something's wrong. Let alone his specific location—even his general direction is blurry.
Minato's frown deepened.
And from within a large tree at the training ground's edge, a pair of eyes fixed unblinkingly on Toji Fushiguro.
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