"Mom, I’m heading out," Fujimoto Tōma called toward the house.
"Mm. Be careful," Fujimoto Sana replied, watching his back with faint confusion.
Over the past few weeks, Tōma had started calling her Mom instead. The word itself wasn’t important. What caught her attention was that he’d changed.
When he was younger, he’d been almost unsettlingly composed. Calm. Mature. Like a child who already knew how the world worked. Now, oddly enough, he seed... lighter. More relaxed. A little lazier at ho, even. Less tightly wound.
But also happier.
Sana smiled. Whatever the reason, she could feel it. And for the first ti in a long while, she felt sothing different too, sothing warr. The feeling of truly being a mother.
As for Tōma’s change, the reason was simple.
He’d stopped suppressing himself.
Back when he lacked strength, restraint had been necessary. Every impulse, every desire, locked down and controlled. He’d needed focus. Precision. Survival.
Later, once he grew stronger, that restraint beca habit. He told himself it was who he was now. That this version fit the world better.
But he’d realized sothing important.
Restraint had its place. Permanent suppression did not.
Who had he been in his previous life, really?
Lazy. Not ambitious. He worked, sure, but he preferred coasting. His dream job wasn’t wealth or status, just a comfortable position with decent pay and plenty of free ti. If he’d found that, he’d have happily stayed there forever.
That, too, was him.
Now, after years of discipline, those lazier instincts hadn’t vanished. They’d just softened. Balanced by control instead of crushed by it.
There was another change too. One Ino noticed more clearly than anyone.
Tōma had gotten... bolder.
Not crude. Just more openly affectionate. More proactive. Sotis expressing his feelings in oddly indirect ways that left Ino flustered.
She didn’t dislike it. If anything, it made her oddly happy.
If his reactions were stronger now, didn’t that just an she mattered more?
Tōma, for his part, accepted this as inevitable.
After all, anyone who’d seen what he did while learning the Transformation Jutsu would know he’d never been as pure as he pretended.
And besides, Ino was his fiancée. This world wasn’t exactly strict about such things.
If it wouldn’t affect her training, he might’ve even suggested she refine a transformation that didn’t revert on impact.
That would be—
Tōma’s expression didn’t change.
This was outside. Dignity mattered.
His reason for heading out tonight was simple. He’d felt a Flying Thunder God marker activate nearby.
Standing outside a bathhouse, specifically on the won’s side.
That narrowed it down considerably.
Tōma had no intention of peeping. Why bother, when Ino could use Transformation Jutsu at ho if he asked?
He vanished.
Reappearing behind a tall man with wild white hair, Tōma spoke calmly.
"Soone’s peeking."
The words rode the wind straight into the bathhouse.
The man froze.
Then—
"PERVERT!"
Tōma vanished again.
Watching chaos erupt inside, Tōma smiled faintly. This sort of thing was routine for Jiraiya anyway. Once every few days, minimum.
No guilt required.
"Little brat, you set up!" Jiraiya snarled later, hair frazzled, clothes torn, glaring at Tōma.
"Long ti no see, Jiraiya-sensei," Tōma said pleasantly. "Hope you enjoyed the welco."
"Oh, I enjoyed it," Jiraiya growled.
"Peeping isn’t good behavior," Tōma added.
"I wasn’t peeping! I was gathering material! For art! For research!"
"Right. Then go explain that to them directly."
"...."
Jiraiya went quiet.
"You’ve changed," he said at last, studying Tōma carefully.
"People do," Tōma replied. "Or maybe this is just who I always was."
Jiraiya chuckled. "Yeah. This version suits you."
He’d known about the White Fang of Konoha rumors. He’d even guessed the truth. At first, he’d blad the Third Hokage for letting things go that far.
Now, seeing Tōma like this, Jiraiya wondered if he’d been wrong.
Tōma wasn’t cold. Or broken.
Just sharper. And a little mischievous.
They talked for a long while. About missions. ANBU. Growth. Then Tōma told him about Orochimaru.
Jiraiya’s mood darkened instantly.
"I followed his trail back here," Jiraiya admitted.
"Then please keep an eye on the Third Hokage," Tōma said quietly. "He might push himself too far."
Jiraiya laughed it off at first.
Tōma didn’t.
"How long ago was it that he could fight all three of you evenly?" Tōma asked. "He’s sixty-nine now. He never rests. His stamina, his reflexes, everything has declined. Orochimaru hasn’t stopped growing."
Silence.
Jiraiya thought of his teacher’s face. Older. More worn.
"...I’ll watch him," Jiraiya said finally.
Satisfied, Tōma relaxed.
They talked about Naruto next. About seals. Training. Responsibility.
"So I’ve got a new apprentice now, huh?" Tōma asked.
"Looks like it."
"And ?"
"I’m taking it easy," Tōma replied. "I’m close to breaking through."
That alone made Jiraiya’s eyes widen.
Later, as they parted—
"Hey, Tōma," Jiraiya said sheepishly. "Next ti I’m gathering material, could you—"
Tōma vanished.
Jiraiya stared at the empty spot, then laughed helplessly.
That night, sothing finally settled inside Tōma.
The last trace of killing intent. Gone.
On the eve of the third exam, the breakthrough he’d been waiting for arrived right on ti.
...
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