"Tch! Yuta's late again!"
Jiraiya grumbled, his eyes fixed on the entrance of the BBQ restaurant as he muttered under his breath.
"If it weren't for Yuta, I wouldn't be this broke," he complained to no one in particular. "He definitely scammed me back then, I just know it."
Orochimaru, Tsunade, Meyuri, and Osamu, seated around the table, chatted and laughed amongst themselves, pointedly ignoring him.
A cheerful, lively atmosphere hung in the air, making Jiraiya's sulking all the more conspicuous.
Seeing that his lamentations were falling on deaf ears only soured Jiraiya's mood further.
Sure, Shimura Yuta had finally taught him the Rasengan, and he was making progress on the second stage of training, but the thought of his wallet—emptied right after he'd received his mission reward—made his heart ache.
"I could have used that money to buy that special collector's edition!"
The vision of the magazine's unclothed beauties flashed in his mind, and Jiraiya couldn't help but swallow hard.
"Yo! Sorry I'm late. I got lost on the road of life."
At the sound of Yuta's voice, Sarutobi Osamu spoke up around a mouthful of food. "You always use that excuse! Can't you come up with something a little more believable?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Osamu's brain finally caught up. His expression froze, his jaw going slack.
"Yuta! You… you, you, you!" Jiraiya shot to his feet, his finger trembling as he pointed at the flak jacket Yuta now wore. His face was a mask of shock. "No way! I just got back from a mission! How did you become a Jōnin?!"
"Damn it!" he roared, slamming a fist into his palm. "I, Lord Jiraiya, should have been the first to make Jōnin!"
"Oh, this?" Yuta smiled casually, glancing down at the vest. "I just got it. As you can see, I'm a Jōnin now."
He moved to his usual seat—the one that had, since their very first BBQ outing, been tacitly reserved for him between Meyuri and Tsunade.
The two kunoichi had, without a word, always flanked him, and the arrangement had become a tradition.
"See? I told you Yuta would be the first to make Jōnin," Tsunade said, her voice laced with pride rather than surprise.
She and Meyuri had expected this; if anything, they thought it was long overdue.
From across the table, Orochimaru offered a faint, curling smile. "Congratulations, Yuta-kun. I'm afraid I didn't have time to prepare a gift for your promotion. I'll have to give it to you next time."
His words made Tsunade's face suddenly turn thoughtful. 'A gift? I didn't get one either! What should I give him?'
Noticing Tsunade's consternation from the corner of her eye, Meyuri smiled gently and produced the gift she had prepared in advance.
It was an exquisitely crafted chakra short sword. To forge it, she had begged her father to part with a family heirloom, expending significant resources and effort to create this masterpiece of a ninja tool.
All eyes at the table were drawn to the blade. While they might not have been experts in chakra-conducting weapons, its quality and value were undeniable.
To present such a weapon as a gift… Sarutobi Osamu and Jiraiya exchanged a look, their eyes simultaneously turning lecherous as they shared the same unspoken understanding.
Yuta himself was taken aback.
Over the past six years, he had undergone more than twenty life simulations. While most results were mediocre, a few had yielded decent rewards, including a Mastery of Swordsmanship.
Combined with the Root assassination techniques he'd learned earlier, this short sword would be far from decorative.
But whether he used it or not, the gesture from Meyuri was deeply meaningful. He thanked her sincerely and carefully stored the blade away.
Watching this, Tsunade's face fell. 'Damn it! She prepared a gift in advance! How sneaky!'
She took a deep breath, mentally steeling herself. 'It's fine, Tsunade. You can definitely find a better gift!'
Her mind began racing through possible gifts.
Orochimaru's expression also stiffened almost imperceptibly. The gift he had initially prepared was also a short sword, but its quality was inferior to Meyuri's. It seemed he, too, would have to find a new present.
As a brief silence fell over the table, Yuta's gaze drifted back to a brooding Jiraiya. "I remember someone saying he would be the first to become a Jōnin?"
Jiraiya's face flushed in embarrassment. Normally, his skin was thick enough to brush off such a comment, but the one-two punch of his empty wallet and his dashed hopes for the collector's edition was a sharp sting to his pride. To have Yuta pour salt on the wound…
'Damn you, Shimura Yuta!' he screamed internally.
Choosing silence, Jiraiya focused his frustrations on the grill, determined to claim the next piece of meat.
But just as he reached for it, Meyuri's chopsticks darted in and snatched the last piece right off his plate.
Jiraiya looked up stiffly, meeting Meyuri's innocent, smiling face.
"Oh, I almost forgot about our big eater here," she said sweetly.
Jiraiya felt like crying, but no tears would come.
Seeing his pitiful state, Yuta offered some consolation. "It's okay. So what if I made Chūnin faster than you and became a Jōnin first? You can always aim to become Hokage before me. I believe in you."
His words drew surprised looks from everyone.
"Does Yuta-kun wish to become Hokage?" Orochimaru asked, setting down his chopsticks with keen interest.
This was the first time he had ever heard Yuta express such an ambition.
"Hokage?" Jiraiya began to ponder the idea seriously. He had to admit, Yuta had a point. If he wanted to truly surpass him, becoming Hokage seemed like the only way.
But then, the image of his teacher, Sarutobi Hiruzen, flashed in his mind—the man's hair turning gray, his desk perpetually buried under a mountain of paperwork. Jiraiya shuddered.
"Become Hokage? Let's forget that," he said, shaking his head. "I'll leave that to Osamu. After all, he's always wanted to be a shinobi like the Old Man. Yeah, Hokage is his goal, not mine."
Osamu, who hadn't even finished swallowing the meat in his mouth, looked up, bewildered.
"Huh? What about me?"
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