In the end, Hiruzen Sarutobi granted Minato's request to learn the Flying Raijin.
Beyond Minato's own unwavering determination, Hiruzen was mostly worried that if he didn't agree, he would die of a stroke caused by his idiot student, Jiraiya, before he even got a chance to trade blows with that "Old Potato," Ohnoki.
However, despite his lingering concerns, he still placed a great deal of faith in Minato. He knew that while Jiraiya always managed to send his blood pressure through the roof, he was the most trustworthy of his three students. If Jiraiya was convinced that Minato was a once-in-a-generation genius capable of becoming the second person since the Second Hokage to master the Flying Raijin, then there had to be some weight to it.
If Konoha could gain a genius shinobi who mastered space-time ninjutsu, it would be the village's greatest windfall of the entire war.
"The Flying Raijin?!"
Inside Danzo's tent, the man's perpetually drooping, somber eye snapped wide. He stared at his subordinate on the floor in utter shock, his voice laced with disbelief as he heard that Hiruzen had officially authorized Minato Namikaze to learn the technique.
He knew, however, that this intel couldn't be wrong. No one in his ranks would dare joke with their own head on the line.
"Notify Nonou Yakushi. She is to keep Minato Namikaze under close surveillance alongside Hatani. Report any progress immediately."
After barking the order, Danzo found himself unable to sit still. He paced the length of his tent, his expression flickering between a look of mad ecstasy and one of deep, brooding gloom. His emotions were dangerously unstable.
Given his history—suffering crippling injuries, retreating into the lightless underground to form Root, and becoming the "Darkness of the Leaf"—very little could shake his composure like this. The mere fact that Minato was learning a high-level technique wasn't enough to cause this reaction.
"A threat... or an asset?"
Finally, as if his legs had grown weary, Danzo slumped back into his chair. He stared out at the darkening sky beyond the tent flap, his eye clouded as he muttered to himself in a low rasp.
Back in his tent, Jiraiya wasted no time. He reached into his pack and hauled out a massive scroll nearly half his height. He unfurled it and began flipping through the contents with practiced speed.
"So this is the Flying Raijin?"
Jiraiya found the section quickly, but before he could call Minato over, Hatani had already crowded in beside him with practiced familiarity.
"Minato, commit these to memory. If there's anything you don't understand, we'll break it down one by one. Once you've solved every question and fully wrapped your head around the theory, we can begin the basic physical training."
Jiraiya, however, didn't even bother to acknowledge Hatani's presence. In his mind, Hatani was exactly like Jiraiya was to Hiruzen—a headache waiting to happen. He chose selective ignorance to save his own health.
Besides, a kinjutsu like the Flying Raijin was impossible to even read without the right talent, let alone learn. As for the "danger," Jiraiya considered that a joke for now.
It was like skydiving. It was incredibly dangerous, sure—but only for the person who actually managed to get on the plane. For someone who couldn't even find the road to the airport, what danger was there to speak of?
Hatani didn't mind being ignored. He was only here to find a plausible excuse for his future use of the Blink Dagger. He treated it like a light show, memorizing the symbols and formulas to build a foundation for later. Who knew? Since he had the Blink Dagger, maybe he'd become so proficient with instant travel that he'd eventually have an epiphany and stumble his way onto the airport road after all.
While Hatani was just browsing, Minato's brow knit deeper and deeper the more he read. It was clear that he had not only found the plane but had already climbed into the cockpit.
All he needed now was to find the "fuel" to make the pilot take off, buy a parachute, and learn how to use it. Once he did that, he would officially master the Flying Raijin.
As for the "Flying Raijin: Level 2" he would develop in the future, it was essentially the difference between a standard parachute and a wingsuit; the core concept remained the same, just faster and significantly more difficult.
"Don't rush it," Jiraiya said, gently patting Minato on the shoulder as he saw the boy's intense focus. "Since the Second Hokage developed this, at least ten shinobi called 'prodigies' have tried to crack it. You're the only one who has actually understood the mechanics enough to find the right questions to ask. You're already ahead of everyone else. Take your time; you're only fourteen, you have plenty of it."
Worried that Minato might overthink it and hit a wall, Jiraiya closed the scroll and began shooing them out with a mock scowl. "Alright, it's late. Get out of here. I've been on the road for days; I finally get a good night's sleep tonight and I don't want you two ruining my dreams."
The sky was speckled with stars. Without a bright moon to outshine them, the gems of the cosmos sparkled with brilliant intensity.
Under the faint starlight, the largest meeting hall in Kusagakure sat in total pitch-blackness. Yet, if one were to quiet their mind and listen closely, the sound of dozens of uneven breaths could be heard echoing in the void.
The darkness was a mask; the room was packed.
"Didn't your Amegakure just sign a treaty with the Leaf?"
Finally, a weathered, gravelly voice cut through the silence. Despite its age, the voice sounded tight, betraying a deep sense of nerves.
"Heh... aren't treaties made specifically to be broken?"
A second voice rose from the dark, followed by a dismissive chuckle. This voice was muffled, sounding as if it were vibrating through a gas mask.
"The Era of Warring States is over," the weathered voice continued, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "Are you not afraid of losing order? Of returning to those blood-soaked, lawless days?"
"It has been nearly forty years since that era ended. The only ones who truly benefit from this 'order' are the high and mighty Five Great Nations," the muffled voice replied, but this time the disdain was replaced by a thick, bitter resentment. "For small nations and small villages like ours, how is this any different from the Warring States period?"
The muffled voice shifted again, turning high and persuasive.
"Besides, why do you assume our plan will cause order to collapse? Why do you think it will drag the world backward?"
The voice grew louder, dripping with temptation.
"When the old order crumbles, a new one is born. If that is the case... why shouldn't we be the ones to define the new order?!"