Jiraiya had wanted to follow them outside, but Tōma stopped him. Once the others were gone, Jiraiya poured himself another drink and glanced over.
"So?" he asked. "What's on your mind, Tōma?"
"There's a technique you should learn too," Tōma said calmly.
Jiraiya didn't interrupt. He already knew what Tōma meant. His biggest weakness had always been the same. He lacked a clean, decisive finisher. Toad Oil Flame Bullet was terrifying, sure, but it depended on summons and setup. Too many conditions.
Jiraiya sighed inwardly.
At some point without him noticing, this kid had surpassed him. Maybe the only thing Jiraiya still held over Tōma was Sage Mode.
And when he thought about it honestly, Jiraiya felt a sting of guilt. He hadn't taught Tōma much at all. Most of Tōma's growth had been self-driven. Jiraiya had mostly just cleared obstacles, provided resources, and handled identity and permissions.
That was it.
And yet here Tōma was, handing him a technique like this without hesitation.
Jiraiya accepted without a second thought. Refusing a student's trust would've been shameful. As for whether he could master it… development was out of the question, but learning it? That, he could manage.
Tōma, for his part, genuinely liked Jiraiya. Not just because of how he was in stories, but because of how he was here. Being Jiraiya's student had protected him more than any bloodline ever could.
A clean background. A powerful mentor. And complete freedom.
For Tōma, that combination had been perfect.
He explained the Rasenshuriken in detail. Its wind-nature structure. The cellular-level damage. The backlash risk before full mastery. The fact that careless use could cripple the user just as easily as the enemy.
Jiraiya listened in silence, expression growing heavier by the minute.
"This thing's nasty," he muttered. "And expensive."
"Which is why," Tōma added with a faint smile, "Naruto's future training with it should be left to you."
Jiraiya blinked.
Naruto.
Teaching Naruto this?
His head started to hurt already.
To teach Naruto, he'd first have to fully grasp it himself. Then teach nature transformation. From scratch.
Jiraiya narrowed his eyes and looked up, ready to accuse Tōma of setting him up.
The room was empty.
"…That brat," Jiraiya muttered, realizing too late. "He did this on purpose."
But there was nothing to be done. Someone had to take responsibility.
And honestly… Jiraiya wanted to see Naruto succeed.
He sighed deeply, already picturing the long, painful days ahead.
Meanwhile, Tōma had already returned to his room. There was no chance he was personally teaching Naruto. Anyone who tried that learned the hard way.
As for why he hadn't used Flying Thunder God to bring everyone back together, that one wasn't on him. He'd suggested it. They'd refused. Apparently, they weren't in a hurry to return to Konoha.
One gambler. One drunk. He shook his head. Enjoying the road, apparently.
Fine.
Since they wouldn't be back immediately, there was no rush to report everything to the Third Hokage.
Tōma reached into his storage scroll and summoned out a much larger one. He unfurled it and performed another summoning.
Two swords appeared.
One was his own. The Inkshade Blade.
The other was Orochimaru's Kusanagi. The blade that could extend at will.
It had fallen free when Orochimaru was struck by the Rasenshuriken. Completely unharmed. And in his escape, Orochimaru had forgotten to retrieve it.
Lucky mistake.
Tōma had no intention of changing weapons. He ran a hand along the Inkshade Blade, thoughtful.
During the fight, it had struggled against the Kusanagi's edge. Inkshade was excellent, but compared to a legendary weapon, it still fell short.
Which meant only one thing.
It needed an upgrade.
And the material was obvious.
Tōma activated Flying Thunder God, locking onto the marker he'd left in the Land of Iron.
The room vanished.
In the Land of Iron, inside the main hall of the Artisan Forge, Tōma laid out his request.
Master Takumi and his grandson stared at him in disbelief.
"You're telling me," the old craftsman said slowly, "that you possess a Kusanagi blade?"
"Yes."
Tōma handed it over without hesitation.
The two artisans washed their hands, steadying their breathing, before accepting the sword as if it were sacred. Their fingers traced the blade reverently, eyes shining.
Tōma poured himself some tea and waited. He was a regular here. Most of his gear came from these two. His cutting iron shards. His defensive plates. Even the slugs for his electromagnetic cannon.
All top quality.
In return, he protected them when needed. He'd even left behind a messenger toad. Over time, word had spread. No one bothered them anymore.
After a long silence, Master Takumi finally spoke.
"Tōma… you should just use the Kusanagi. Your current sword is already my finest work. It doesn't deserve this."
He said it like a crime against craftsmanship.
"I'm used to Inkshade," Tōma replied simply.
Reluctantly, the old man accepted the blade.
At first glance, he was unimpressed. Then he drew it.
Cold light shimmered along the steel. A faint crimson hue pulsed beneath the surface.
Master Takumi swallowed.
This blade had grown. A lot.
How many battles had it seen? And in how short a time?
There was something else too. Not intelligence. Not consciousness. But resonance. A bond.
This sword fit its wielder.
"That explains it," the old man said quietly. "It's developed a spirit. Not a mind, but an affinity. That's why you won't let it go."
Still… using Kusanagi as raw material felt insane.
"…It's possible," he admitted after a pause. "But there's a problem. We don't have the tools to melt Kusanagi."
"I'll handle the fire," Tōma said.
The old man stared at him, then laughed softly. Excitement crept into his eyes.
To forge a legendary weapon… even at his age…
"Very well," he said. "Let's begin."
Melting Kusanagi wasn't simple. Ordinary Fire Style wouldn't come close. But sustained heat was different. Senjutsu-enhanced flames. Toad oil. Wind-fed oxygen. Controlled pressure.
Kusanagi wasn't forged in divine fire.
So it would melt.
When the blade finally began to soften, the two artisans watched with pained expressions. Then determination hardened in their eyes.
If Kusanagi was to become material, then Inkshade would surpass legend.
This would be the greatest work of their lives.
Tōma watched the process and sighed.
At this rate, he'd be here a while.