Kaito hauled himself over the final lip of rock, ribs shrieking under the venom's persistent burn (<< HP: 55/100 >>), fingers raw and trembling. His Chakra Thread (Rank F) snapped taut, saving him from a backward plunge for the third time in an hour (<< Chakra: 32/50 >> | << Stamina: 20/80 >>). He collapsed onto a blessedly flat expanse, gasping air thick with mist and the scent of ancient, damp stone. Not a summit. A threshold.
Before him rose an impossible wall: seamless, obsidian-black stone vanishing into swirling grey clouds. Carved into its base were colossal stone doors, fifty feet tall, depicting intricate bas-reliefs of toads – meditating, battling leviathans, weaving unfathomable seals. Mount Myoboku's Gate. Power radiated from it, a physical pressure against his skin, making the air crackle with latent energy and causing his own chakra to flutter erratically.
Before the doors, on a wide platform littered with weathered offering bowls and geometric carvings humming with faint power, stood a figure. Not a toad. A man.
He was imposing, broad-shouldered beneath worn, travel-stained red robes layered over practical gear. Wild, spiky white hair cascaded past his shoulders, framing a face etched with laugh lines and a deeper, more profound weariness. Thick red tear-marks ran down from eyes that held sharp, unnervingly perceptive intelligence currently fixed on Kaito. His ID pulsed with contained might: << Jiraiya - Toad Sage - Level ??? >>. He leaned casually on a backpack bulging with scrolls, but Kaito's Namikaze-enhanced perception screamed danger – this man moved with the predatory stillness of a coiled spring, his presence a vast, controlled force.
"Well, well," Jiraiya's voice boomed, startlingly loud in the misty silence. Amusement laced his tone, but beneath it lay an edge like flint. "Look what the Forest finally coughed up. A stray pup, bleeding on the welcome mat. Took your sweet time, didn't you?" His gaze swept over Kaito, not with mystical insight, but with the sharp assessment of a seasoned shinobi and sage. He noted the roughspun, village-less clothes, the makeshift bandage dark with blood and something acidic green, the raw scrapes on hands and face, the utter exhaustion, and the faint, unsettling residue clinging to him. "Ancient Centipede venom. Nasty stuff. And…" Jiraiya's nostrils flared slightly, his eyes narrowing. "...the sharp tang of disrupted space. Unstable. Crude. Like someone tried to fold reality with a sledgehammer and only half succeeded. Reckless." He didn't mention bloodlines. He focused on the effects, the evidence.
Kaito forced himself upright, ignoring the fresh agony in his side. Meeting the Sage's gaze felt like staring into a sunlit forge. 'No kindly hermit. Gatekeeper. Observer.' "Jiraiya-sama," he managed, voice raw. "I seek Sage training."
Jiraiya barked a laugh, sharp and devoid of warmth. "Do you now? Everyone seeks Sage training, boy. Few understand it's less a path and more a pact with the primordial chaos. Fewer survive the asking price. And none," his eyes hardened, "come uninvited, smelling of rogue chakra, Forest blood, and the ozone stink of botched spatial manipulation. Myoboku isn't a sanctuary for fugitives playing with powers that could unravel them." He gestured dismissively at Kaito's overall state. "Who sent you? What village spat you out?"
"No village," Kaito stated, forcing strength into his voice. He pulled out the charred fragments of Hayate's scroll, holding them up. The intricate, damaged seal patterns were stark against the scorched parchment. "He sent me. Hayate. He said Mount Myoboku was the only place I could learn control before... before this instability consumed me." He didn't elaborate on "this instability." Let Jiraiya infer the spatial disruptions, the raw power he sensed but couldn't name.
Jiraiya's eyes snapped to the scroll fragments. The casual demeanor vanished, replaced by sharp focus. "Hayate?" The name was spoken flatly, but Kaito caught a flicker of something unreadable – recognition, wariness, perhaps annoyance. Jiraiya strode forward, snatching the fragments with surprising speed. His fingers traced the charred edges, the fractured sealwork. His expression grew grimmer, a deep frown etching his face. "This seal… complex spatial anchoring. Multi-layered containment. High-grade work. Now it's kindling." He looked back at Kaito, his gaze piercing. "You did this? Weaponizing a storage seal against a bug?"
"Against an Ancient Centipede," Kaito admitted, bracing for scorn. "Level 5. Cornered. No other options."
Jiraiya stared at him for a long, silent moment. The mist curled around them. Then, unexpectedly, a grudging flicker, not of respect, but of morbid fascination touched his eyes. "Stupid. Suicidally desperate. But… pragmatically effective, I suppose. Hayate always did have a knack for finding strays dancing on the edge of a blade." He tossed the fragments back. "Doesn't mean I roll out the welcome scroll. So, 'No Village.' That just makes you a bigger question mark. Why should the Toad Sages waste their breath, let alone their wisdom, on a rootless wanderer radiating barely-contained chaos?"
"Because without control, the chaos will explode," Kaito insisted, the image of Hana's face burning brighter than the venom's fire. "Because Hayate implied... this place holds truths. Truths I need to survive whatever this is." He tapped his temple, implying the volatile power, not naming bloodlines. "And I felt it on the climb… the mountain's energy. It resonates… differently with me." He let the Nature Chakra Affinity subtly hum, a faint, calming green aura momentarily flickering around his injured side, soothing the venom's edge just perceptibly (<< Chitin Venom (Mild) Effect Slightly Reduced! >>).
Jiraiya's eyes tracked the subtle shift, the way the ambient nature chakra seemed to flow towards Kaito's wound for a fleeting second. "Hmph. Sensitivity. Like a raw nerve exposed to lightning. Affinity means you might not turn to stone the moment real nature chakra hits you. It doesn't mean you can handle it. It doesn't mean the toads gamble on broken vessels." He turned towards the massive doors, his red robes swirling. "Myoboku's wisdom isn't handed out to every lost soul who stumbles up the path. Especially not ones carrying volatile cargo and the shattered remnants of someone else's cryptic calling card."
Kaito's heart clenched. 'Rejected. After all this pain…' Despair warred with stubborn defiance. "What then? A trial? Proof?"
Jiraiya paused, his hand resting on the colossal black stone. He glanced back, a calculating glint replacing the dismissal. "Those fragments… Hayate's seal. Before it became confetti, what was its core function? What did your instability sense in it?" He wasn't asking for a bloodline reveal; he was probing Kaito's perception, his understanding of the effect.
"A key," Kaito answered instantly, his Fuinjutsu affinity and recent spatial trauma providing the visceral memory. "Not just storage. It pulsed with… gateway energy. Attunement. Like it was meant to resonate with something here. To unlock a path." He didn't understand the bloodline part, but the function was clear to his altered senses.
Jiraiya's eyebrows rose slightly. "Perceptive. For someone who blows up his keys." He nodded slowly. "It was a key. A specific resonance pattern attuned to bypass certain… ancient wards. Hayate's idea of a reference, apparently. It's ash now." He sighed, a sound like wind through distant canyons. "But the fragments… the residual resonance of the seal pattern Hayate used… that imprint might still be faintly readable. By those who listen to stone and silence." He looked pointedly at the smaller, human-sized door set into the base of the massive gate, almost hidden amongst the carvings of meditating toads. It was made of the same black stone, etched with complex, interlocking symbols. "The Keepers of the Inner Paths. The oldest toad sages. Their senses are tuned to such echoes. If you can convince them to listen."
Kaito understood. 'Not Jiraiya's decision. The toads themselves are the ultimate judges. And Hayate's broken key is my only, fragile token.'
"Convince them how?" Kaito asked, steeling himself against the pain and the suffocating pressure of the place.
"By walking the Path of Stone Wisdom," Jiraiya said, gesturing to the small black door. His voice lost its sharp edge, becoming solemn. "A trial of worthiness set by the mountain and its guardians, long before my time. Not a test of strength, boy. A test of will. Of spirit. Survive the path. Reach the Chamber of Whispers at its heart. Present the fragments to the Keepers. If they deem the resonance true… if they deem your spirit capable of bearing the weight of Sage wisdom… then training might be contemplated." His gaze was unyielding, ancient. "But know this: the Path consumes the weak-willed. Many who enter seeking enlightenment find only petrified silence, minds shattered against the mountain's truth. Turn back now, if you value the flicker of sanity you still possess."
He didn't wait for a response. Jiraiya placed his palm flat against the giant central door. A section of the carved toad shimmered with a complex, fleeting light, and he simply… stepped through the solid obsidian, vanishing like smoke into the mountain.
Kaito was alone. The mist thickened, muffling sound. The air hummed with ancient, watchful power. Hayate's broken key felt cold and heavy in his hand. The small black door loomed before him, not an entrance, but a maw. The Path of Stone Wisdom awaited. Not a shortcut to power, but a gauntlet where his mind, his resolve, his very reason for being here – Hana – would be tested against the indifferent judgment of primordial toad sages. The easy hope was gone, burned away like the scroll. Only the hard, terrifying path remained. Shade took a shuddering breath, pushed open the unyielding black door, and stepped into the suffocating, silent dark. The mountain's true trial began.