Naruto: Super Ninja

Our journey to the Fire Temple was long, slow, and filled with relentless training. As Jiraiya had promised, we trained every day without significant breaks. I created clones—they absorbed natural energy—and then they trained in techniques alongside the sage himself.

Saying it was easy would be a lie. If that was all my training involved, it would have been manageable. But as soon as my clones dispersed, physical training began, followed by sparring with the Toad Sage himself. The physical training was brutal—Jiraiya constantly placed weight-sealing tags on me, the heaviest I had ever carried. Without chakra, even ten push-ups felt impossible, and managing that much was an achievement in itself.

Once that was over, the cycle repeated: meditation and chakra control.

As we made our way to the Fire Temple, we passed through several large cities, where Jiraiya and I would stop to rest. On those days, my only training consisted of chakra control exercises. Soaking in the hot springs was a rare luxury, a chance to relax and talk. Jiraiya would share stories from his past, sometimes asking how I would have acted in certain situations.

"I remember when my team received a mission in the Land of Rain," he began while we lounged in the steaming waters of a small inn. The place, called Inari-Sanso, was run by an elderly family. "We had to scout the area—our forces were planning a two-pronged assault, aiming to encircle the Land of Earth's troops and either capture or eliminate them."

"Was it just your team? Or were others with you?" I asked.

"Just mine," he said, shaking his head. "We slipped past the front lines with ease and started gathering intel. The real question was how to do it. We had two options—split up to cover more ground and reach less accessible areas, or stick together for safety. What would you have done?"

I thought about it. Honestly, the answer seemed obvious.

"I would stay with my team," I said.

"Why?"

"Because as a team, you have a much better chance of handling almost any opponent," I explained. "If you split up, the risk of encountering a strong enemy increases. And if that happened, word would spread fast that a lone Sannin was operating in the area. I'm sure the enemy wouldn't hesitate to throw dozens of Jonin at you just to stall until stronger forces arrived."

Jiraiya nodded. "Any other thoughts?"

I hesitated for a moment. "Maybe… you could've gathered intelligence without exposing yourselves too much by using your summons. It's hard to say without being there and knowing all the details."

"You're right about that, Suzuki," the Sannin agreed. "And as it turned out, we stayed together. That decision let us escape almost unscathed from a battle against several veteran shinobi from the Land of Earth."

"You fought them?" I asked.

"Of course not," Jiraiya chuckled. "You need to know which fights to take—and when to avoid or turn bad ones to your advantage. We had to retreat to gain the upper hand."

"And how did it all end?"

Jiraiya smirked. "Ah, one of those Jonin died on the toilet—bitten by a snake. Another got a dose of poison from Suna. The third got lucky—he died in his own bed, surrounded by his grandchildren."

"Oh, really," I snorted.

Leaving behind the lush green canopy of Konoha's forests, we arrived at the city of Ryu—a hot, dusty place shimmering in a golden haze. The city moved at a slow, deliberate pace, as if urging travelers to rest and escape the relentless heat.

Next was the town of Sen, nestled among verdant hills and tranquil lagoons. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers, and cool mountain breezes brought much-needed relief.

Then we reached Karakura, a bustling trade hub sprawled beneath the unforgiving sun. Its streets pulsed with energy—noisy markets, merchants haggling, the ceaseless murmur of the crowd. It was a city alive with movement.

Finally, just before reaching the Fire Temple, we stopped in Hohokai. The air here was thick with humidity, the sun beating down mercilessly. Despite the exhausting climate, we spent a few blissful days in town, allowing the Sannin to take care of his so-called "business." In reality, his only business was indulging in the local nightlife, unwinding after our long journey. Honestly… I wouldn't have minded a little romance myself, but I had no desire to put in the effort. Better to just lie in bed and do nothing.

Leaving Hohokai behind, we pressed on toward the Fire Temple. As the last buildings faded from view, an exhilarating sense of change filled the air. The climate grew drier, the landscape more dramatic. One after another, mountains rose before us—majestic sentinels from ancient times. Their snow-capped peaks shimmered under the sunlight, painting a scene of indescribable beauty. It reminded me of photos I had once seen of Chinese mountains, where each peak seemed like a world of its own, untouched and isolated from the rest of the land.

We continued our ascent, the air growing cooler and crisper with each step. The sounds of civilization gradually faded, leaving us alone with nature's vast silence. The wind whispered through the mountain passes, carrying echoes of distant times.

At last, we arrived at the Floating Mountains—a range that seemed to hover above the land, defying logic and time. Sheer cliffs jutted skyward, their jagged edges forming a labyrinth of narrow passages and hidden valleys, concealed from all but the keenest eyes. The sight was both awe-inspiring and unsettling, as if the mountains themselves possessed a will of their own. Legends spoke of ancient battles, lost treasures, and how these peaks once served as a bridge between worlds.

"How do you like the view?" Jiraiya asked as we stopped atop a rocky peak.

"It's beautiful," I replied.

"See that chakra-beast?" He pointed toward a massive bird gliding effortlessly through the sky.

I squinted, finally noticing it. "I see it."

"I once had to try the meat of that thing," the Sannin said offhandedly. "Wouldn't recommend it. Worst meat I've ever had."

"Got it, sensei," I nodded. "Message received."

"Glad to hear it."

With that, we resumed our journey, and soon, we stood before the longest staircase I had ever seen—stretching endlessly toward the plateau where the Fire Temple rested. We climbed at a steady pace, feeling no real difficulty… until Jiraiya decided to slap weight-sealing tags on me. My once-light steps turned into pure agony, each movement a test of endurance. Using chakra was strictly forbidden.

Still, I pushed forward, stubbornly maintaining a steady rhythm. My body trembled with exhaustion, but I knew one thing: all suffering had an end. And at last, we reached our destination.

Before us stood a grand structure with towering red walls—the sacred Fire Temple, the place we had been striving toward for so long. Its massive iron gates, adorned with intricate flame symbols, loomed imposingly ahead. Flanking the entrance were two statues of demons frozen in menacing stances, their golden robes shimmering in the dimming light. Despite their fearsome appearance, angelic wings extended from their backs, creating a striking contrast.

I recognized them instantly—Karasu and Yamabushi Tengu, legendary figures said to be disciples of the Sage himself, the one who gifted humanity with the divine art of Ninshū. The statues stood as eternal guardians, their formidable presence a silent warning to all who dared enter this sacred ground.

Jiraiya stepped forward, reaching for a protrusion I hadn't even noticed—cleverly hidden within the design of the massive door. With a firm grip, he pulled it toward himself and pushed.

BOOOOM!

A deep, resonant gong echoed through the mountains, shaking the very trees with its power. Slowly, the sound faded, leaving behind an eerie silence. Jiraiya stepped back, waiting patiently. I remained still, sensing that now was not the time for questions.

The massive door groaned as it slowly swung open, hinting at its considerable weight. When the interior was finally revealed, we were greeted by two short men with completely bald heads that gleamed under the sunlight. They wore simple, light-colored robes with black sleeves, their expressions calm and unreadable.

Standing between them was a tall man with an even more prominent forehead. His thick eyebrows met at the bridge of his nose, giving him a stern, almost intimidating look. He studied us with a measured gaze before inclining his head slightly toward Jiraiya.

"Good afternoon, Jiraiya-sama," he greeted in a deep, composed voice. "It is a pleasure to welcome you and your companion."

"Hey there, Chiriku," Jiraiya replied easily. "I see things are as peaceful as ever around here."

"As much as they can be," Chiriku nodded. "Please, come in."

Following Jiraiya inside, I felt the sharp gaze of one of the monks guarding the temple courtyard settle on us. But after a brief moment, he returned to his patrol, seemingly deciding we weren't worth further scrutiny.

The courtyard itself was vast and tranquil, its centerpiece a massive, bright-red statue depicting roaring flames. A circle of live embers surrounded its base, glowing softly in the daylight. I assumed that, if necessary, these embers could be fanned into a searing fire, a sacred ritual imbued with deep spiritual meaning.

"Will you be staying long?" the monk accompanying us asked suddenly.

"A few days, at least," Jiraiya answered. "After that, we'll be on our way."

"Understood." Chiriku nodded. "Two rooms have been prepared for you. Brother Sora will guide you to them."

A young monk approached us. His shoulder-length hair had a grayish-blue tint, and his green-brown eyes held a flicker of something—mockery, perhaps? Something about him immediately put me on edge, though I kept my thoughts to myself.

"Follow me," he said evenly, though his tone carried an unreadable quality.

We followed Sora through the temple corridors. The rooms of the Fire Temple weren't quite what I had expected—simple, unadorned, yet entirely functional. Ours were located side by side.

"You may stay here," Sora announced before abruptly turning and walking off without another word.

Jiraiya stretched his arms behind his head. "Alright, Suzuki. As you can probably guess, there's more training ahead."

I smirked. "Figured as much."

"I'll see if I can arrange for you to train with the monks—maybe even spar with them—but I can't make any promises."

"Of course, Jiraiya-san. I'd be grateful for the opportunity. I've heard the monks of the Fire Temple are highly skilled in taijutsu."

Jiraiya nodded. "That's true. They rank quite high in that art."

"So, what should I be most prepared for?" I asked.

"For the fact that they might use some rather unusual techniques," Jiraiya mused. "So stay alert."

I simply nodded. To be honest, I couldn't quite imagine what techniques they might use. That uncertainty unsettled me—I preferred knowing what I was up against. Why? So I could try to replicate some of their abilities or techniques myself—if that was even possible.

After freshening up from our long journey through the mountains, I stepped outside, eager to see the temple's daily life. The Fire Temple was shrouded in an unnatural silence. Looking around, I noticed every monk seated in meditation. In front of each was a small bowl with a flickering flame, sending up thin streams of fragrant smoke that carried a faintly sweet aroma. The scene was mesmerizing.

I focused on two monks in particular and decided to join them. I had no idea what they were doing, but I simply sat down and tried to relax my mind. Strangely enough, achieving this state was far from easy. A vague, oppressive presence seemed to linger in the air—something dangerous, something unseen, spreading its own miasma and making it difficult to find peace. It unsettled me.

Still, after some time, I felt my mind gradually unwind. My thoughts faded, and I slipped into a deep meditative state. The world blurred around me. A quiet calm washed over me, all-encompassing and profound.

Then—suddenly—I felt it.

Someone was watching me.

The sensation was so intense, my meditative state shattered like glass. I inhaled sharply and opened my eyes.

Chiriku's keen black eyes were locked onto me. His expression was unreadable, revealing nothing of what he might be thinking. Slowly and calmly, I rose to my feet, gave a respectful bow, and walked off to continue exploring the temple. He didn't stop me. He simply watched with that same long, unreadable gaze.

By now, the other monks had finished their meditation and returned to their routines. Some worked at various stations, others swept away dust, and a few engaged in what looked like training exercises. At first glance, they seemed to be practicing simple kata, but something was… different. Their movements were slow and deliberate, yet I could feel it—each motion subtly generated physical energy, storing it, refining it. Energy that could later be unleashed in techniques unlike any I had encountered. The realization struck me with startling clarity. And, of course, it intrigued me.

I crouched down and watched them closely. The monks noticed me immediately, but they chose not to acknowledge my presence. Their focus remained entirely on their movements—precise, controlled, effortless.

After a while, Chiriku appeared again. Without a word, he took a seat beside me.

"Observing?" was his first question.

"Yes, monk-san," I replied. "I'm just curious to see how you do things. If I'm not mistaken, you're not ordinary monks, are you?"

"You're right about that," he said calmly. "We are ninja monks in government service… just like you."

"Of course," I acknowledged. "I understand. I once heard that several monks from the temple served as bodyguards for the daimyo."

"That's true," the man nodded. "My own service is proof of that."

"Oh, really?" I said, surprised. "You were a daimyo's guardian?"

"I was," he confirmed. "But afterward, I returned to the temple to reclaim my position as its leader." He paused briefly before adding, "Let me ask you a question."

"Of course," I nodded. "I don't mind answering."

"What is your connection to the Toad Sage?"

"I won't lie," I replied calmly. "I fulfilled a request from the Hokage, and in return, he rewarded me… along with assigning me the task of becoming a jonin within six months."

"Oh," he murmured, shaking his head slightly as he studied me. "Then tell me… Do you think you can reach that level?"

"I believe so," I said without hesitation. "I put a lot of effort into improving my skills and continuing to grow."

"That's good," he exhaled. "How about testing yourself against one of the monks? A small exchange of experience?"

"Hmm," I mused. "Honestly, I don't mind at all. It would be beneficial for both me and your monks."

"Excellent," he said with satisfaction, a faint smile softening his otherwise stern features. "I have a disciple… His name is Sora. He's young, but he has already proven himself as one of our most promising students."

The man slowly rose to his feet, brushing away the fine dust that had settled on his robes. His movements were measured, deliberate—each one reflecting the discipline and control of a true master.

"Follow me," he said before turning and walking forward. His steps were light, nearly soundless, as he led me through the temple's winding corridors.