"When proficiency reaches its peak…" Jiraiya murmured to himself, "Tedious steps can be simplified. For the same Ninjutsu, others might need five hand seals, but you only need two to activate it. Even more so, some can form hand seals with one hand, or even cast Ninjutsu without any hand seals! As for the Jiraiya in the original work, he could even use his feet to form hand seals to release Ninjutsu in the later stages… that is true peak mastery." Thinking of this, he was filled with anticipation for the future and a desire for challenges.
He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and his hands began to move. His fingers flew, starting from the 'rat' seal, changing in sequence: fingertips overlapping, separating, intertwining, pressing… The movements, though not as swift as lightning, were exceptionally fluid and stable. A complete set of twelve hand seals took just about ten seconds. For a four-year-old child, and without systematic guidance, this fluidity was already remarkable, though the system's boost certainly played a part.
"Hoo…" He exhaled a turbid breath and stopped practicing. Sweat slightly dampened his bangs. "Half an hour of focused practice, that's enough." He deeply understood the principle of 'too much is as bad as too little,' especially since his body was still developing. While a solid foundation was important, forcing growth would only be counterproductive. Without a renowned master to guide him, he could only rely on his past life's knowledge and his perception of his body, cautiously exploring his limits.
After finishing his hand seal practice, Jiraiya walked to the desk in his bedroom. Under the dim lamplight, he spread out a clean manuscript paper and picked up his pen. What to write? A thought flashed – "young dong dong"! The classic, popular plots from his previous life, after his 'localization', would definitely stir up waves in this entertainment-starved Ninja World!
The pen tip scratched across the paper, making a rustling sound. He was immersed in the excitement of creation; the characters under his pen were vivid and lifelike, the plot was full of twists and turns, and the descriptions were delicate and immersive. When he reached an exciting part, he unconsciously grinned, letting out a few 'hehe's, low chuckles that were a bit lewd yet triumphant. More than an hour passed without him noticing, and seven or eight pages of densely written text already covered the manuscript paper.
"Ah? It's already 10:40 PM!" Catching sight of the old alarm clock on the desk, Jiraiya was startled. In the Ninja World, where people generally went to bed and woke up early, this was definitely staying up late. He quickly dropped his pen, rushed to the toilet, hastily splashed cold water on his face, brushed his teeth, and then plopped onto the freshly made bed.
Chakra refinement? No need. After successfully refining Chakra for the first time upon enrollment, the amount of Chakra would naturally increase with the growth of the body and the strengthening of mental energy. As for cases like Might Guy and Lee, they weren't without Chakra; it's just that their natural talent was entirely focused on Taijutsu. Chakra, after all, is the product of the perfect fusion of spiritual energy and physical energy.
"Perhaps it's because of the transmigration… the Overlay of souls led to a surge in mental energy?" Jiraiya closed his eyes, feeling the power flowing within him. Coupled with the system's ten-year continuous physical enhancement, the effect was immediate—when he first transmigrated today, his Chakra volume instantly doubled, directly leaping to the Genin level! "I'll definitely have much more Chakra than my original self!" He drifted into sleep with a sense of satisfaction.
"Ding-a-ling-ling—!!!"
The sharp, piercing alarm bell was like an awl, harshly breaking the morning's tranquility. Jiraiya sprang up from the bed as if electrocuted, fumbling with sleepy eyes to turn off the noisy iron contraption. "It's only six-thirty…" He groaned painfully, rubbing his messy white hair, "While I cherish my time at school, this damn early rising… it's torture!" He dragged his heavy feet, stumbling into the toilet like a sleepwalker.
About twenty minutes later, Jiraiya, having barely finished washing up, grabbed his cartoon insulated lunchbox containing a warm lunch and rushed out of the house like a gust of wind. "Oh no, oh no! I'm going to be late!" He sprinted down the slightly deserted street in the early morning. His destination wasn't school, but Orochimaru's house. The two went the same way and had agreed to meet at Orochimaru's doorstep every morning at seven.
When he arrived at his destination, panting and covered in sweat, the clock hands had quietly passed seven-oh-three. Orochimaru was already waiting there, holding his iconic purple lunchbox bag. In the morning light, his slender figure appeared somewhat thin, his pale face expressionless, and his golden snake-like eyes calmly swept over the disheveled Jiraiya.
"Idiot," a calm, emotionless voice rang out, "you're late."
"Hehe," Jiraiya scratched his head awkwardly, trying to hide it with a loud laugh, "I… I was just a tiny bit late! Last night… um, I was too absorbed in conceiving a new Ninjutsu!" His gaze fell on the lunchbox in Orochimaru's hand, and he immediately held up his own insulated box like he was presenting a treasure, "Look! I made it myself! I practiced for a long time, you absolutely must try it at lunch! I guarantee it'll be delicious!" As he spoke, he habitually reached out his arm, wanting to sling it over Orochimaru's shoulder again.
Orochimaru's body instantly tensed, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, his voice tinged with ice: "No need. I brought my own lunch. And, your hand."
"Alright, alright, I get it, I get it." Jiraiya said, but his arm still stubbornly draped over Orochimaru's shoulder, looking like good buddies. Orochimaru silently glanced at the annoying hand, but in the end, didn't forcefully shake it off, merely taking a step forward. The sunlight stretched the two figures, arm in arm, long on the ground.
When the two entered the classroom, Tsunade was already seated, flipping through a notebook. Seeing them, she looked up, her beautiful large eyes curving into crescents, her smile as bright as the morning sun rising outside the window: "Good morning, Jiraiya! Good morning, Orochimaru!"
"Morning, Tsunade." Orochimaru responded blandly, walking to his seat to put down his backpack and lunchbox.
"Good morning, Tsunade!" Jiraiya immediately let go of Orochimaru, greeting her with an exaggerated and comical gesture, and said with a playful grin, "I haven't seen you for a day, and you seem even more beautiful, Tsunade!"
"Ah?!" Tsunade clearly hadn't expected such a sudden remark from Jiraiya; her small face instantly flushed with two red spots, and she was a bit flustered. She quickly changed the subject, her gaze falling on Jiraiya's insulated lunchbox, with curiosity: "Oh? Jiraiya, did you bring a bento today? I've never seen you bring one before?" She remembered that he used to just eat bread or grab something outside.
"Hehe, that's right!" Jiraiya patted the lunchbox like he was presenting a treasure, "This great chef has been diligently researching for several days and has finally achieved mastery! At noon, I'll let you and Orochimaru try my cooking; I guarantee it will open your eyes and be unforgettable after just one bite!" He had a smug look on his face, as if he could already see the two of them conquered by his delicious food.
"Really? Is that true?" Tsunade's attention was indeed drawn by the food, her eyes sparkling, "Then it's settled, I want to try it at noon!"
"No problem! Leave it to me!" Jiraiya promised, patting his chest.