Jiraiya crouched at the foot of the wall, reading his way down, word by word.
When he reached the end, he brought his palms together and released a faint pulse of chakra.
The entire sheet silently crumbled into powder, trickling between his fingers and scattering into the night breeze.
In all his years, he could count on one hand the things that had prompted the old man to write him a personal letter urging him back.
As for the thing mentioned in the letter-
Even he found it outrageous.
Jiraiya raised his head and gazed at the moon for a long time.
"An unknown Sage Mode..."
He couldn't help murmuring.
"Old man, just what kind of person has turned up in the village?"
From the other end of town, in the direction of the bathhouse, faint shouts and curses still hadn't quite died away.
"White-hair! Don't let us catch you-!"
Jiraiya shrank back, then stood and stretched luxuriously, his bones cracking in a long series of pops.
He turned and cast a lazy glance at the town behind him.
"Well-"
"I suppose I'll listen to the old man this time and head back for a look."
It wasn't as if he could stay in this town anymore anyway.
The next morning, Hayashi slept until he woke naturally.
Sunlight squeezed through a gap in the window, spreading a small patch across his blanket.
He stretched in bed.
His whole body felt wonderfully relaxed.
The stuff that had been entrenched in his body for over two weeks had finally agreed to stay quietly where it belonged, and even his sleep had become much more restful.
There was just one small regret.
His means of transport, the wheelchair, was officially retired as of today.
He slowly got dressed and pushed open his