Lumian stood frozen, mouth agape, as he stared at the legendary figure who had seemingly fell out of a random tree out of the blue.
There was no mistaking it—Jiraiya the Toad Sage, one of the fabled Three Legendary Sannin, stood just a few feet away, looking as if he had been interrupted from doing something... shameful.
Despite the red bump on his head and a pair of binoculars still rolling on the ground behind him, Jiraiya dusted himself off with practiced ease and glared at Lumian like he was the one causing trouble.
"Hey! What gives, brat? I was in the middle of some very important research!" he barked, voice filled with mock anger.
Lumian didn't reply right away. His eye twitched as he tried to contain his disbelief—and frustration.
"Of course it's Jiraiya. Near a hot spring, no less. This feels less like reality and more like a scripted event from a game."
He muttered something under his breath and clenched his fists. This day was already getting out of hand.
Noticing the boy wasn't responding, Jiraiya leaned in and waved a hand dramatically in front of his face. "Hellooo? Earth to kid? You in there?"
Snapping out of his daze, Lumian forced a wide, innocent grin onto his face. His mind raced.
"I need to say something. Anything. Just make it sound convincing."
"Sorry, Grandpa!" Lumian chirped. "Thought I saw a rabid fox in that tree over there!"
Jiraiya blinked. Then frowned.
"Rabid fox? And your first reaction is to throw a rock at it? What kind of logic is that? Are you insane?!"
Lumian shook his head vigorously, keeping up the act. "You don't understand, Grandpa! Those things are terrifying! One nearly bit my hand off once!"
Not entirely untrue. In his past life, it had been a rabid raccoon that lunged at him while he was taking out the garbage. The trauma was real.
Jiraiya squinted, unimpressed. "First off, my hair may be white, but I'm still in my prime. Stop calling me Grandpa."
"Okay, Grandpa!"
"I said stop calling me—"
"There he is!!"
A chorus of furious voices rang out behind him.
Jiraiya jumped in shock and turned slowly, dread already forming on his face.
An army of women stood at the edge of the springs, led by an elderly lady clutching a broom like a weapon of divine judgment. One of the younger women pointed an accusing finger straight at Jiraiya.
"That creep's been spying on us all week!"
"Get him!"
"Bury him!"
"Burn him alive!"
"AHHHH!" Jiraiya screamed, sandals already in sports mode as he blasted off in a blur of motion.
"Sorry, kid! Gotta go!"
And just like that, the mighty Toad Sage disappeared down the trail, kicking up dust as he ran for his life.
"Don't let him get away!"
The angry mob thundered past Lumian, completely ignoring him like a background extra. He stood there silently, watching them vanish into the distance.
Then he exhaled deeply and shook his head.
"Phew… Crisis avoided. Glad I dodged that event flag."
. . .
Just then, something on the ground caught Lumian's eye.
He blinked. Frowned. Walked over cautiously and bent down.
It was a wallet.
Not just any wallet.
Jiraiya's wallet.
The thing was practically bursting with cash and other questionable currency.
Lumian's eyes widened so far they nearly popped out of their sockets.
"…What the fu—"
"Hey! Young man!"
His heart nearly jumped out of his chest.
Without thinking, his body moved faster than his brain. In a blur of motion, he slipped the wallet into the only secure hiding spot he had: his pants.
By the time he turned around, his expression was a picture of innocence.
Standing there was the same angry Grandma who had led the charge against Jiraiya, her arms crossed and her brow furrowed like a storm cloud.
"Do you know that creep?" she asked, voice sharp.
Lumian gave her the most baffled look he could muster, shaking his head quickly.
"Who, him? Never seen that man in my entire life!"
The Grandma narrowed her eyes.
"You sure about that?"
"Absolutely, ma'am! Just a lost boy passing by!"
She huffed. "Then if you're not staying, get out!"
Before he could protest, her foot shot up with the force of decades of righteous fury and launched him out the front gate with all the grace of a comedy act.
He landed on the dirt road with a dusty thud, groaning.
. . .
Picking himself off the ground with a groan, Lumian brushed dust off his clothes and rubbed the forming bump on his head.
"Note to self," he muttered. "Never underestimate Grandma-level taijutsu."
He looked around him and walked down a random path until he found a shadowy alley nestled between two abandoned buildings. After double-checking that no one was watching, he slipped inside and finally let out a breath.
Reaching into his pants, that was awkwardly bulging, he fished out the wallet.
He turned it over in his hands, frowning. "Did this thing just fall out of his pocket when he tumbled out of that tree? That's... absurdly convenient."
Still, he wasn't about to question a miracle.
He flipped the wallet open, and his eyes widened.
Staring back at him was the smug, officially-stamped grin of the Land of Fire's Daimyō, printed right on the corner of an extravagant wad of money.
There were bills. Stacks of them. Enough to probably buy half the dumpling carts in Konoha.
Lumian's jaw slackened slightly as a flush of greed washed over his face. "Hmmm… What to do…"
His fingers toyed with the wallet's edges as he debated with himself.
"Do I return it to that pervert... or keep it and hope he forgets he ever had it?"
He stared at the smiling faces on the bills. Somehow, they made it worse, like they were mocking him. Tempting him.
He smiled with a diabolical face.
"Naw, I'm keeping it. Its that pervert's fault for peaking in the first place. If he wants it back, he'll have to ask for it politely."
Smiling, he closed the wallet and happily slid it back into his pants, adjusting it with a wince.
But then, just as he was about to leave the alley, a sudden jolt surged through his body.
Lumian staggered, clutching his chest as his vision flickered.
His breath caught.
And then it happened.
His Marauder potion... digested.
. . .
"How the hell…?"
Lumian staggered back and leaned against the alley wall, breathing hard. His heart thudded in his chest like a beating drum.
"That—That's impossible... I didn't even steal anything!"
He paused.
Brows furrowed.
Slowly, he reached into his pants again and pulled out the wallet.
He stared at it.
"Wait… that doesn't count, right? I didn't influence anything. It just fell out!"
{But didn't you throw that rock… which made him fall out of the tree?}
A fleeting thought floated through his mind like a mischievous breeze.
Lumian froze.
His eyes widened.
"Wait—that counts?!"
It started clicking into place. The sequence of events. His rock. Jiraiya's fall. The conveniently dropped wallet.
"If I hadn't thrown that rock… he wouldn't have fallen… and I wouldn't have gotten this wallet."
He stared down at the object like it had personally offended him.
"But I didn't mean to steal anything…"
Still, the truth couldn't be denied.
His potion—the Marauder potion—had digested. And not just a little.
By his estimate, a full 10% had been absorbed in one go.
And that wasn't normal.
He racked his brain, searching through foggy memories of Lord of the Mysteries, comparing details, cross-referencing instinct with logic.
Then it hit him.
"Wait a second… didn't Klein try to trick Medici just to accelerate digestion?"
The thought jolted him like a lightning strike. His eyes lit up with realization. His lips curled into a grin.
"Wait… so you're telling me… the stronger the person I steal from…"
He looked at the wallet again, as if it were made of gold.
"…the faster my potion digests?"
It was too perfect. Too game-breaking. Too delicious.
He stood there, trembling with the thrill of understanding—on the verge of revelation.
This changed everything.
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Later that day…
Jiraiya soared across rooftops, his white mane trailing behind him as the wind howled past. The Hokage Tower loomed ahead—tall, red, and unmistakable.
Spotting an open window, he grinned and dashed up the wall with a burst of chakra.
"Sensei! I'm back!"
Inside, Hiruzen Sarutobi sat behind his desk, gaze fixed on the eastern horizon. He slowly turned toward the window with a tired expression.
"Do my students ever use the door?" he muttered. "Tsunade smashed through the wall… You come through the window... Honestly, only Orochimaru uses the damn entrance."
Jiraiya chuckled and dropped inside, leaning casually against the wall.
Hiruzen puffed on a half-spent cigar, releasing a long stream of smoke. "So... care to explain why you're late?"
Jiraiya rubbed the back of his neck, whistling innocently. "Uh... I might've been doing some... important... research?"
Hiruzen's eye twitched. He nearly hurled his desk at Jiraiya. "Are you telling me I sent you on an S-rank mission to meet the Daimyo, and you wasted time staring at women?!"
"Hey, hey, hey!" Jiraiya raised his hands defensively. "Let's not oversimplify things. It's not just staring—it's quality research! You of all people should understand!"
He smirked. "Don't think I forgot you still keep that crystal ball Lord Second left behind..."
Hiruzen choked on his cigar.
His eyes bulged as he pounded his chest, hacking up smoke. After a few wheezes and coughs, he finally cleared his throat and composed himself.
"…So," he croaked, "what did the Daimyo say?"
Jiraiya let out a snort at his sensei's sputtering, then grew serious. He stepped forward and placed a sealed scroll on the desk.
"He agreed. He'll come next month under the cover of meeting with the next generation of shinobi."
Hiruzen took the scroll, reading it carefully before letting out a deep, tired sigh.
"Good... That buys us time."
Jiraiya tilted his head. "Still though... why'd you even hold that academy tournament? You already selected the students, didn't you?"
"I wanted to see what kind of strength our children are cultivating," Hiruzen said, setting the scroll aside. "And I wasn't disappointed."
"Oh?" Jiraiya's brow quirked. "What did you find?"
A rare smile crept across the old man's face as he leaned back in his chair.
"A boy named Amon Tsuchi. There's something... interesting about him."
Jiraiya's eyes lit up. "If you're saying that, then the kid must be the real deal. Should I take him on as a student for once?"
Hiruzen gave him a flat look.
"I'd rather not have you corrupting the poor boy."
"Hey!"
Hiruzen chuckled—an uncharacteristically light sound—as he reached for his cigar.
He tapped it.
Empty.
Frowning, he flipped it, shook it—only a trickle of black powder spilled out.
A beat of silence passed.
Then, he turned to Jiraiya, palm open.
"Hey. Lend me some money."
Jiraiya blinked. "You're the Hokage! Why are you asking me for money?!"
"I'm your sensei," Hiruzen said with a tsk. "Now give me some money or I'll tell Tsunade you were peeking at the hot springs again."
Jiraiya's eyes widened. "You wouldn't."
"Try me."
With a dramatic sigh, Jiraiya raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine…"
He reached for his back pocket.
Nothing.
Front pockets. Coat. Shirt. Even—
"…No," he whispered, growing pale. He checked again.
"…No no no no no—!"
Finally, his face contorted in horror.
"MY WALLET!!!"
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(Author's note:
Thanks for reading!
As always make sure to leave a comment and a review! Thank you to Mamdouh_Mohamed for the compliment!
If you have any questions, please leave it down below!
Thank you.
POWER STONES!!!!!!)