I'd known for a while that killing a Kage wasn't like putting down some rogue ninja or enemy jonin.
All the Kage were listed in every village's Bingo Book. Minato was in Iwa's, Kumo's, Kiri's, you name it. Just like Yagura had been in ours.
But knowing something intellectually and understanding its full implications were two very different fucking things.
Killing a Kage was like kicking a hornet's nest. Except the hornets were S-rank shinobi with political backing, and the other hornet nests were watching and would eagerly join to see you get stung to death. It set a precedent, showed that it could be done, that Kages weren't untouchable. That was dangerous. Villages relied on the mystique of their leaders' strength. Break that illusion, and suddenly everyone started getting ideas.
Worse, it created opportunity.
Blood in the water. The other villages would circle like sharks, sensing weakness, testing boundaries. Konoha was already one of the strongest and most prosperous villages. That made us a target on a good day. Now? With diplomatic tensions flaring and precedent shattered? They'd be looking for any excuse to take a bite out. Maybe force concessions. Maybe destabilize alliances. Maybe just make us bleed resources defending a position we shouldn't have to defend in the first place.
And I was the one who'd handed them that opportunity on a silver platter.
Of course, I'd realized all this the moment I'd had time to think after waking up in that hospital bed. But I'd chosen to have faith in Minato.
Not Minato the person —Minato the character.
That was the distinction that mattered.
I didn't know the real Minato Namikaze. Not personally. Sure, I'd interacted with him, taken orders, stood in the same room. But I didn't know what kept him up at night, what compromises he'd made to sit in that hat, what lines he'd drawn in the sand and which ones he'd quietly erased when no one was looking.
What I knew was the Minato from the screen. The Yellow Flash. A man who'd chosen the hard right over the easy wrong every single time. The man who'd smiled at Naruto with such genuine warmth and pride even as he was dying. That Minato had been selfless, brilliant, heroic to his core.
That was the Minato I'd put my faith in.
And maybe that was stupid. No, it is. Maybe it was naïve to trust a fictional character's moral compass to guide a real man's political decisions. But what else did I have? I was betting my life on the hope that the man wearing the Hokage's hat was at least close to the legend I'd watched on a screen in another life.
Because if he wasn't? If he was just another politician in a flak jacket, making cold calculations about acceptable losses and political expediency?
Then I was fucked.
Ironically, the one person who might have supported me unconditionally was Danzo. If we'd been on good terms, that is. The old warhawk loved his wetwork specialists, and I'd just proven I could eliminate Kage-level threats. He'd have shielded me from the fallout just to keep his new asset operational.
Too bad he hated my guts.
Tomoe bringing up the Hyuga Affair had been like a slap. Not a wake-up call — I'd already been awake. More like a challenge. Like she was telling me everything I believed was built on sand.
It pissed me off.
Was this why she'd invited me? To warn me to watch my back? I was a competent shinobi. I was always watching my back. Most of the time. Sometimes.
I set down my teacup. I'd lost my taste for it, which was a shame; Izumi had made it.
"The Hyuga Affair was a tragedy," I said carefully. "Though I have to commend them for their competence," A pause, "As expected of the village's most loyal clan."
It was a petty move, I admit. The Hyuga and Uchiha had been rivals for generations, and complimenting one in front of the other tended to get... reactions. I was also playing dumb, acting like I hadn't caught her meaning. But addressing it directly would steer this conversation into dangerous territory neither of us could afford. Or perhaps she could.
Tomoe just snorted and took another sip.
Apparently, the old woman didn't care much about clan rivalries. Or maybe she found my side-stepping amusing.
"I hear you've purchased a home," she said, as if granting me the change of subject. "Congratulations, dear. It's wonderful to see you putting down roots. An orphan making a place for himself in the world—there's something beautiful in that."
This definitely wasn't something she'd gotten from rumors. I'd only just bought the place. It didn't surprise me, exactly, but now I was starting to suspect Tomoe held more weight among the Uchiha than I'd assumed. Maybe one of the clan elders.
"Thank you, Tomoe-san," I said. "It's been a long time coming. Figured it was time to have somewhere that felt like mine, you know? Somewhere stable."
She looked me in the eyes, smile never wavering. "And do you think that will change anything? In how they view you?"
"…"
I deadpanned.
This visit was starting to feel like a mistake. Guy-sensei was out there watching my every move to report back, and this old woman was adamant about sailing straight into treasonous waters.
Konoha was a militaristic village. Shinobi didn't criticize the leadership. We certainly didn't speculate about political maneuvering and abandonment. Lady, you're going to get me arrested.
I sighed. "Give me some slack here, Tomoe-san."
She could speak freely. She was part of a collective. Nobody could move against her, even as old and frail as she was, without facing consequences from her entire clan. I was different. I was an orphan. Nobody would stand up for me except me. And even that was doubtful, if the village decided I was a problem, I might not even stand up for myself. Not if it meant they'd go after Shiho. Or my kid.
Her expression softened slightly.
"Oh, you poor dear. I didn't mean to corner you like this." She sighed heavily, and for the first time, she looked genuinely troubled. "I just... I worry you're not seeing the full picture of what's ahead. The storm coming your way."
"I appreciate the concern," I said honestly. "But as things stand, I don't have a lot of options. I do what I can with what I have."
"A tree that does not bend in the wind will break," she said quietly.
"I'm not standing still," I countered. "I'm getting stronger. Training harder. If problems come, I'll be ready to punch through them."
That sounds something like Naruto would say; damn him.
Inwardly, though, I felt a twinge of guilt. I'd spent the day pussy-hunting instead of training. But I'd just gotten out of the hospital. I'd start tomorrow.
Tomoe snorted and shook her head, took a sip of her tea. "My, and here I thought you were trying to distance yourself from us."
I blinked. "Mmh?"
"Thinking you can solve everything with your fists." She set down her cup with a soft clink. "That's how my grandson approaches the world. How most of the young men in my clan do. 'Hit it harder, burn it hotter.' Very Uchiha."
"I'm just optimizing what I'm good at," I said with a shrug. "Work with your strengths, not against them."
"Mm." She made a noncommittal sound, neither agreement nor dismissal. "And tell me, child—do you think strength only comes in one shape?"
I titled. Am I about to get a cliche wisdom lesson?
She settled back, her weathered hands folding over her lap. "The boys in my clan, they see strength as something to prove. Who strikes hardest. Who moves fastest. Whose flames burn brightest." Her voice carried the weight of someone who'd watched generations make the same mistakes. "It matters, don't misunderstand me. But it's like... like building a house with only a hammer. You'll manage something, but it won't stand long."
"Besides the obvious, the physical, which most are familiar with," she ticked off on her fingers. "There's strength of will—enduring what others cannot, persisting when all hope seems lost. There's strength of mind—outthinking your opponents, seeing ten moves ahead. There's strength of spirit—holding to your principles when the world demands you compromise them."
She paused, looking me dead in the eye.
"And then there's the strength most overlook, despite it being the most common, the most useful, and the most reliable." Her voice took on the weight of experience. "The strength of bonds. Alliances. Networks."
She leaned forward slightly.
"This isn't just the domain of nobles and merchants, boy. Shinobi use it too. Must use it, if they want to survive." She gestured broadly. "Look at Hashirama Senju. The God of Shinobi himself. The man who could level mountains and reshape valleys with a thought. Do you know what he did with all that power?"
I waited.
"He sought alliances," she said. "Married Mito Uzumaki to bind Uzushio to Konoha. Negotiated with the other clans, even ones he'd been at war with for generations. He could have conquered the entire continent by force, but he chose to build something lasting instead. Something that couldn't be destroyed the moment he died."
Her eyes gleamed. "Because he understood that true strength — the kind that protects what you love beyond your own lifetime — comes from connections. From people who will stand with you, not because they fear you, but because their interests align with yours. Because your success is their success."
She sipped her tea calmly. "A shinobi alone is just a target waiting to be struck down. But a shinobi with allies? With a network? That's someone who weathers storms that would drown lesser men."
I stared at her for a long moment.
She smiled peacefully, eyes closed, enjoying her tea like we'd just been discussing the weather.
Silence settled between us.
Indeed, I got my cliche wisdom lesson but…..
"Is that why Izumi was here?"
Tomoe's smile widened. "Oh, you always were such a clever boy, Ei-chan. Even as a child, you had more wisdom than most adults I knew."
She set down her cup and folded her hands in her lap.
"Izumi's mother is worried," she said simply. "Her daughter was removed from the police force. Now she's being assigned field missions." Tomoe's expression grew somber. "Izumi is a strong kunoichi. Smart. Level-headed. But she wasn't made for that life."
"Field missions are different, I'm sure you know," she continued. "It's not patrols or investigations. It's enemy territory where one mistake means death. It's watching your teammates die and carrying on because the mission demands it." She shook her head. "The mortality rate... It's grim, child. Especially for someone being pushed into it."
She laughed softly. "Most Uchiha would scoff at me for saying this. My grandson certainly would. 'Uchiha are strong,' they'd say. 'Loyal. We die gladly for the village.' 'It's a noble death.'" Her voice hardened. "Izumi is brave. But bravery doesn't stop steel."
She met my eyes.
"You might think me a demented old woman for saying this, but isn't raising the next generation of protectors just as noble—if not more—than meaninglessly dying for the village? What good is sacrifice if there's no one left to inherit what we've protected?"
I was speechless.
Of all the things I'd expected, warnings, political maneuvering, maybe even recruitment, a marriage proposal to a Uchiha was not on the list.
The Uchiha. The clan infamous for their bloodline obsession. They married each other almost exclusively, keeping the Sharingan concentrated within the family tree. I got it. When you had a dojutsu that powerful, you didn't want it diluted or lost. Made perfect sense from a strategic standpoint, even if it made their family reunions genetically questionable.
"Forgive me, Tomoe-san," I said carefully, "but... isn't the clan pretty protective of their bloodline? I mean, Izumi's mother married outside the clan and got ostracized for it. They only recently let her family move back, from what I understand."
"The past is the past," Tomoe said dismissively. "Her family is back among the clan now, aren't they? Besides, your situation is different."
"How so?"
"You've proven yourself more than capable." Her smile turned sly. "Killing a Kage tends to do that. Oh, some of the more stagnant, jealous types might grumble. But most would be thrilled to have such a strong ally tied to the clan."
I hummed, actually considering it.
Truthfully, I'd never seen myself as high-society marriage material. Hell, I'd never expected to live long enough to get to that age. But that was just emotional noise. What mattered was the practical question. Was it worth tying myself to the Uchiha?
The benefits were obvious.
Protection, for one. Tomoe was right. An attack on me would become an attack on the clan. That was huge. The Uchiha might be politically isolated right now, but they were still one of the founding clans. Still powerful. Still respected, even if that respect came with wariness. Having their backing would give me breathing room.
And legitimacy. Right now, I was just an orphan who'd gotten lucky and killed a Kage. Dangerous, sure, but disposable. Marry into the Uchiha, and suddenly I had status. Weight. I became someone who couldn't be easily discarded when convenient.
But the risks...
The Uchiha were a target. Danzo wanted them gone. The village leadership didn't trust them. Tying myself to them meant tying myself to their eventual downfall—and in this timeline, I had no idea when or how that would happen. The massacre might not occur, but something was brewing. Tensions were rising. I could feel it.
Then there was the political baggage. The Uchiha had enemies inside and outside the village. Aligning with them meant inheriting those enemies. It meant every move I made would be scrutinized through the lens of "what does the Uchiha clan gain from this?"
And there was the coup. The fucking coup. In the original timeline, they'd been planning to overthrow the Hokage. I didn't know if that was still on the table here, but if it was? If I were family when that went down?
I'd be executed alongside them.
Still, those were strategic considerations. Manageable, if I were smart.
But… A knot formed in my stomach.
Marrying Izumi. My first, and from the feeling that had hit me when I'd seen her today, still current, crush.
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