After delivering his words about Tōma's future, the Great Toad Sage seemed to grow even sleepier. Before anyone could speak again, his eyes slid shut and his breathing steadied, as if the conversation had already drained what little energy he had left.
With no reason to linger, Fujimoto Tōma left the hall together with the two elders.
As they walked, Elder Fukasaku spoke gently, "Tōma, don't take the Great Elder's words too heavily. What he described may simply be things any shinobi can't fully avoid."
"Don't worry, Grandpa," Tōma replied with a small smile. "I'm fine."
"That's good." Fukasaku nodded, though his heart remained heavy. Even if he tried to soften it, the phrase blood and upheaval was never something simple.
"Don't listen to that old fogey," Elder Shima added bluntly, her tone full of displeasure. "He might've just been muttering nonsense again."
"Thank you, Grandma," Tōma said sincerely.
Over the past three years, Tōma had worked very hard to earn her favor, mostly to avoid being forced to eat insects. The effort had paid off. His relationship with Shima was now surprisingly good.
And in truth, his praise hadn't been empty flattery. Shima took her cooking seriously. Every piece of fruit was carefully selected, and her combinations improved constantly. Even the pickiest person would struggle to find fault with them.
That treatment, however, was reserved almost entirely for Tōma.
Jiraiya had once shamelessly begged Shima to cook for him during the period he taught Tōma the Rasengan. He was rejected without hesitation. Shima knew perfectly well that Jiraiya could eat insects, and no amount of pleading would convince her to abandon her pride and specialty.
The result was that Jiraiya looked at Tōma with open envy.
I was here first, his expression seemed to say.
After a moment of silence, Shima sighed. "Three years already… You won't be coming as often now, will you, little Tōma?"
"I'll visit whenever I can," Tōma replied. "I promise."
"Then it's settled," Shima said, brightening immediately. "If you don't come, I'll be angry."
Fukasaku smiled as well, quietly setting the Great Toad Sage's unsettling words aside. Compared to some vague prophecy, the child they had watched grow for three years mattered far more.
"I'll remember," Tōma said, nodding.
Once his sealing skills improved further, he planned to set up a fixed mark back home. Traveling between Konoha and Mount Myōboku would become trivial then.
For now, though, he wasn't reckless enough to attempt Flying Thunder God directly from the village. If he jumped here, getting back would mean a very long walk.
"If you need help," Fukasaku added, "don't hesitate to use summoning. Most of the toads are available."
"That's right," Shima chimed in. "Even Bunta. If he doesn't behave, come back and tell me. I'll deal with him."
"I will," Tōma replied with a smile.
Connections mattered. He might not be close with every toad like Jiraiya was, but being on good terms with the leadership had its advantages.
"Grandpa, Grandma… I'm heading home," Tōma said.
He released the reverse summoning technique, and his figure vanished from Mount Myōboku.
Watching him go, Fukasaku and Shima exchanged a quiet glance. No matter what they said, things wouldn't be the same anymore. He wouldn't be here every day.
Over the past three years, it wasn't just them who had grown used to Tōma's presence. Every toad on the mountain knew there was a human who trained harder than anyone else. His diligence had subtly changed the atmosphere of Mount Myōboku itself.
Konoha Village.Fujimoto Residence.
Tōma pushed open the door and stretched, feeling the explosive strength contained within his body. A satisfied smile crossed his face.
The three years of relentless foundation training were finally over.
From here on, he wouldn't need to push himself to the same extremes. The groundwork was laid.
So… how far did it take me?
Curious, he prepared to report in to the Third Hokage.
In the next instant, Tōma vanished.
Hidden among the trees nearby, an ANBU operative stiffened in alarm.
Did I… lose him?
"Hello."
A calm voice spoke from behind.
The ANBU's body froze completely beneath the mask. He hadn't sensed the approach at all.
If the boy had wanted him dead, he already would be.
Cold sweat trickled down his back.
"You can't afford to be this relaxed," Tōma said calmly. "You've been watching this place for three years, haven't you? Got comfortable?"
The ANBU didn't answer, silently acknowledging the truth.
No matter how careless he'd become, it didn't change the reality. The ten-year-old standing behind him had already surpassed a typical chūnin.
And worse—
Did he notice me three years ago?
Thankfully, the mission had come from the Third Hokage himself. Otherwise, this realization would have been terrifying.
"I understand," the ANBU said at last.
"Good," Tōma replied. "Please inform the Third Hokage that I've returned. I'll go see him."
"Understood."
The ANBU departed immediately.
Tōma dropped back to the street and walked through the village at an unhurried pace, taking in familiar faces and familiar roads. It all felt strangely close, like no time had passed at all.
Soon enough, the ANBU returned.
"Fujimoto-sama," he said respectfully. "The Third Hokage requests that you come directly."
"Alright."
With that, Tōma headed for the Hokage Tower.
Moments later, he entered the office without obstruction and found the Third Hokage still buried in paperwork.