Sen looked at the old man before him, whose nose was still bleeding, and took two large steps back in disgust.
He covered his nose with his hand.
He couldn't care less about some title like "one of the legendary Sannin."
In the original story, this guy really was a formidable fighter.
But he was also a walking trouble factory.
Special training with him?
Then what about my watermelon patch, my grape trellises, and my daily sunbathing sessions?
Wouldn't all of that go down the drain?
"Not interested."
Sen refused without hesitation and turned to head back into Konoha.
He shuffled along in his battered wooden clogs, which gave off muffled creaks.
"I'm busy. I still have to go back and water the apple tree in my backyard."
"Water it?!"
Jiraiya grew desperate.
He tore the battered slipper stuck to his thigh off and flung it to the ground, splashing a small puddle of black sludge.
With a hop, he blocked Sen's path again.
His red outer robe still reeked of stale booze after a hangover.
"You little brat! All you ever do is play in the dirt and plant trees?!"
Jiraiya was so furious that hot blood began spurting from his nostrils again.
He wiped it hard with his cuff, staining half his sleeve red.
"Do you have any idea how many people beg and plead to become my students?!"
"I'm the man who's mastered the strongest ninjutsu in the shinobi world!"
Jiraiya pointed at himself.
"As long as you train with me, I guarantee you'll learn all that Fire Release and Water Release stuff within a month!"
"Not interested. All I know is planting trees."
Sen lazily walked around him and kept going.
"You!"
Jiraiya refused to let up.
He reached out with his large hand to grab