Elder Fukasaku watched quietly as Fujimoto Tōma followed the training plan he had been given.
When Jiraiya first ca to Mount Myōboku, he hadn’t lasted long. His movents were sloppy, his posture needed constant correction, and Fukasaku had spent more ti striking him with a ruler than teaching.
Tōma, on the other hand, was seeing the plan for the very first ti.
And yet every movent was precise.
There was nothing to correct. His stance, balance, and transitions were already close to ideal. No wasted motion, no bad habits. Fukasaku searched for flaws out of instinct and ca up empty.
He stroked his beard, clearly pleased. Tōma’s taijutsu wasn’t powerful yet, but his fundantals were extrely solid. This kind of clean base didn’t co from talent alone.
That credit belonged to Might Guy. Only soone who had drilled taijutsu down to muscle mory could break movents apart and rebuild them this cleanly.
Fukasaku glanced at the black ruler in his hand. At this rate, he might not even get much use out of it. When Jiraiya trained here, he’d nearly worn the thing down.
What surprised him even more was Tōma’s stamina. So much ti had passed, yet the boy still hadn’t ended his first training cycle.
"Jiraiya really did take in soone incredible," Fukasaku muttered.
Eventually, Tōma reached his first limit.
"That’s enough. Eat this, then continue," Fukasaku said, producing a pill and handing it over.
Tōma accepted it but didn’t swallow it right away. Instead, he sat cross-legged. Lightning began to flicker faintly across his body.
Fukasaku’s eyes widened slightly.
"So that’s it... No wonder."
Now it made sense. Tōma’s rapid physical growth wasn’t natural alone. This thod explained everything.
That realization also ant one thing.
The training plan needed to be adjusted.
Upward.
Once Tōma finished his lightning-based recovery, he swallowed the pill. He had no interest in knowing what it was made from. As long as it worked and didn’t look like insects, that was enough.
Warmth spread through his body. The fatigue didn’t vanish, but it softened, settling deeper instead of pressing at the surface.
He clenched his fist.
Tired, yes. But still able to move.
"So this is Mount Myōboku’s secret dicine..." Tōma murmured.
"Don’t waste it," Fukasaku said calmly. "Its effect only shows if your training keeps up."
In truth, this was usually the hardest part. The body couldn’t fully absorb the benefits right away, and pushing during this window was brutal.
But Fukasaku had underestimated Tōma.
Before, Tōma had deliberately stopped at his limit. Now he understood sothing important.
With this dicine, the backlash from pushing past his limit once per day was nearly gone.
Maybe even twice.
The result was absurd.
Fukasaku watched in silence as Tōma continued, eyes wide, throat dry. At so point, he began to doubt himself.
Was he out of touch with the tis?
Or was his training plan simply too gentle?
Worse, were the secret dicines not enough anymore?
Jiraiya had taken smaller doses back then and still failed to fully use them. Tōma, on the other hand, was squeezing every bit of value out of it.
Once his body entered its next growth phase, his chakra reserves would begin increasing at a terrifying rate.
There was no doubt anymore.
Tōma’s future chakra capacity would surpass Jiraiya’s.
"With chakra like that..." Fukasaku muttered, stroking his beard, "not learning senjutsu would be a waste."
A decision quietly took shape in his mind.
After breaking through his second limit, Tōma finally stopped. His body felt hollowed out. A third push was impossible today.
Still, he was satisfied.
He glanced at the sky and sighed. Training with the dicine consud an absurd amount of ti, but that was the price of progress.
Strength demanded endurance. Monotony. Pain.
What surprised him most was himself.
In his previous life, he’d heard about breaking physical limits but never managed it. He’d assud his willpower was weak and that his current success ca from so vague advantage.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
Maybe his resolve wasn’t as lacking as he’d believed.
If this continued, he might even match Rock Lee’s physical growth. Maybe surpass it.
And the difference wasn’t effort.
It was backing.
Even with Lee’s relentless training, he didn’t have access to resources like this. Jiraiya’s depth ran far deeper than a single taijutsu master’s could.
Mount Myōboku’s dicine alone guaranteed that, during its effective period, Tōma’s physical growth would outpace even soone training harder than him.
Unfair?
Maybe.
But Tōma didn’t dwell on it. Every advantage he had was sothing he’d earned, step by step.
He sat cross-legged again. Lightning flickered softly as his body relaxed. His mind emptied, slipping naturally into a calm, focused state.
This ti, he forgot sothing important.
Elder Fukasaku was still watching.
The old toad’s expression changed.
He stared. Observed. Thought carefully.
Then his eyes widened.
"...This is the precursor state," he muttered. "The doorway to senjutsu."
Once again, Elder Fukasaku was utterly shaken.
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