"Hokage-sama. The barrier team just sent a report about Azula-sama and Mito-sama being back at the village."
Hiruzen, mid-sigh over a mountain of paperwork that seemed to breed when he wasn't looking, straightened up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.
He didn't bother asking why the sensors hadn't caught them entering the village. Why would they?
Azula knew the Flying Raijin technique—the immortal legacy of his late sensei.
The proper etiquette, of course, was to teleport to a designated marker outside the village walls and then walk in like a civilized shinobi.
But expecting the walking, talking, black-haired calamity that was Azula to follow "proper etiquette" was like expecting a cat to file its own tax returns.
It was a nice thought, but utterly divorced from reality.
The important thing, however, was that they were back. A wave of pure relief washed over him, loosening the knot of tension that had taken up permanent residence between his shoulders.
The ANBU agent, sensing the shift in the Hokage's mood, simply waited for a nod before dissolving into the shadows.
Hiruzen leaned back in his chair, which groaned in protest.
"Should I… pop over and say hello?" he mused aloud to the empty office. "Or wait for them to report in like proper shinobi?"
He pictured the scene: him, sitting here, waiting. Azula, probably already elbow-deep in a bowl of ramen at her favorite stall, Mito-sama likely already at the Senju archives, her nose buried in a scroll. They would 'report in' when the moon turned to cheese.
He could be waiting here until his funeral, and they still wouldn't darken his doorstep with an official report. They'd probably send a cheerful, late condolence card.
His gaze drifted back to the paperwork. So much paperwork. It was a S-rank mission all on its own.
With a theatrical sigh that would have made a stage actor proud, he did hand seals.
Poof. A perfect copy of himself, albeit with a perpetually confused expression, appeared in the corner.
"Just… hold down the fort," Hiruzen said, gesturing vaguely at the desk. "Sign anything that isn't a resignation letter. If Danzō slithers in, tell him I'm in a meeting. A very long meeting."
The clone sighed. It already knew it had drawn the short straw.
Now, Hiruzen knew the rules. There was a village regulation specifically stating the Hokage couldn't offload his work onto Shadow Clones except under 'extenuating circumstances'. This was an extenuating circumstance, right?
Dealing with the return of two forces of nature was practically a national security matter!
Besides, it's not like he had a spotless record to protect. His every move in the village was monitored. The higher-ups knew exactly what he did with his free time.
They knew about the crystal ball, the private viewings, the extensive collection of Uchiha Holy Uncensored Doujinshi Art he devoured with the focus of a man studying a sacred text.
If one of the advisors burst in without knocking, they might find him so engrossed in the latest masterpiece that he wouldn't even notice until they were standing right behind him, reading over his shoulder.
If he added 'letting Shadow Clones do all the heavy lifting' to his list of indiscretions, his approval rating—already being carefully cultivated as the only thing keeping Azula from turning the Hokage Tower into a bonfire when she inevitably took over—would plummet faster than a rock in a lake.
No, he had to be seen and had to be present. He had to maintain the illusion of a hard-working, dedicated leader.
Making up his mind, he left the clone to its fate and strolled out of the Hokage Tower, making a beeline for the Senju Compound.
The fresh air was a welcome change from the scent of ink and anxiety.
His walk through the village was a familiar, almost therapeutic ritual.
"Hokage-sama, lovely day for a walk!"
"Look, kids! It's the Hokage! He just winked at me! Nah, I'm done!"
"No, he didn't! He was looking at my new sandals! He approves!"
Wherever he passed, villagers lit up. A simple nod from him was enough to make someone's entire week.
Children would wave, old ladies would offer him vegetables, and shopkeepers would try to press free goods into his hands. It was a wave of goodwill he'd grown accustomed to over the years, and frankly, it never got old.
_This_, he mused, _was the essence of being Hokage. You were the face on the mountain, the face in the villagers' minds when they woke up, the face they saw on their morning milk cartons. It was a status few could fathom._
It was this exact feeling, the reverence, the automatic respect that made Danzō's eye twitch every time he saw it. It was the reason Koharu and Homura, for all their bossy, advisory posturing, would never, ever taste this particular brand of power.
In the entire shinobi world, only four other people got to experience this.
Well. Three others, now. And the woman he was on his way to see was a primary reason that number had recently shrunk.
•••
"So, let me get this straight," Azula said, pinching the bridge of her nose as if fighting off an impending headache. "Tsunade and my father are already at the frontlines, warring against Kumo while we were not here?"
Nawaki bounced on his heels like a puppy who'd just spotted a squirrel, his eyes practically sparkling with envy.
"Exactly! And they even took some clan members with them!!" He crossed his arms with an impressive pout. "But nee-san got all weird and protective and refused to let me go. Can you believe it? Me! The future Hokage! Being treated like some fragile flower!"
_Oh, I don't know_, Nawaki, Azula thought, fighting the urge to laugh hysterically. _Maybe it's because she knows in another timeline, you get turned into confetti by a paper bomb?_
She physically had to stop herself from facepalming too hard—she'd done it so many times since arriving in this world she was worried about giving herself a concussion.
"Should I join them?" she mused aloud.
The truth was, she missed Tsunade.
It had been nearly a month since they'd separated, and despite her general cynicism about this entire universe, she had to admit the blonde medic had grown on her like an especially stubborn fungus. An endearing fungus with super strength.
But she shook her head firmly. No, there were things she needed to do in Konoha. Plots to hatch, plans to set in motion, sanity to maintain.
Plus, as much as she hated what this village would become in the original story—the hypocrisy, the darkness hiding beneath the pretty leaf motif—she had to admit something embarrassing.
This dump had become home.
She'd grown up here for fourteen years. Fourteen years of waking up to the same streets, the same annoying civilians, the same ridiculous ninja running everywhere instead of just walking like normal people.
It had that effect on you. Like a particularly violent case of Stockholm syndrome, but with more ramen.
Azula's attention suddenly shifted to Mito, who had been observing their exchange with the quiet amusement of a cat watching mice argue.
The Uzumaki woman met her gaze, then slowly turned toward Nawaki.
She didn't say a word.
She didn't have to.
One look at Grandma Mito's face and Nawaki's expression crumpled like paper in a toddler's fist.
He could read that look perfectly: Run along now, little one. The adults are about to discuss things that would scar your innocent childhood.
"Fiiine," he dragged out the word, shuffling toward the door with the dramatic flair of a condemned man walking to his execution. "But I'm putting my name in for the next cool mission! I'm calling dibs! Dibs, I say!"
The moment he stepped outside and nearly collided with Hiruzen Sarutobi, something clicked in his brain with his eyes narrowed.
And suddenly, the Third Hokage found himself on the receiving end of a look that could only be described as "supreme eight-year-old resentment."
Hiruzen blinked, utterly bewildered. What had he done? He'd literally just arrived. He hadn't even said anything yet. Was this what parenting felt like?
Deciding to ignore the inexplicable hostility (children were strange, mysterious creatures), Hiruzen plastered on what he believed was a warm, fatherly smile.
It looked more like he was passing a kidney stone, but he was trying his best.
"Would you be so kind as to inform Mito-sama that I'm here to see her?" he asked, his voice dripping with diplomatic politeness.
Nawaki responded by curling his lip like a pissed-off raccoon. "Tsk. She already knows."
And with that, he sauntered off, leaving Hiruzen standing there like a fool, his smile frozen on his face.
For a long, uncomfortable moment, Hiruzen considered whether it would be inappropriate to give the grandson of the First Hokage a stern talking-to.
Perhaps a lesson in manners. A very gentle, completely-not-abusive lesson.
But no. He was Hokage. He had to be the bigger person.
Even if that bigger person was currently standing in an empty courtyard, feeling thoroughly disrespected by a child who hadn't even hit puberty yet.
He gritted his teeth and approached the house, the silence somehow more insulting than any words could be. This was the welcome the Hokage received? Where were the fanfares? The honor guards? The ceremonial tea?
Thankfully, the universe decided to have mercy on him. Mito slid open the door just as he reached it, and for a moment—just a moment—the sunlight caught her just right, framing her in gold.
And Hiruzen was transported back.
Back to when his teacher was alive, back to when the Shodaime's laughter echoed through these halls, back to when this house was filled with life and youth and hope.
They'd been so young then. So innocent. They hadn't known they were living the best days of their lives, too busy chasing tomorrow to appreciate today.
"What are you doing, Hiruzen? Daydreaming on my doorstep like a lost puppy?" Mito's voice cut through his nostalgia like a kunai through butter. But her eyes were soft, understanding and with some complex emotions. She could feel his emotions radiating off him like heat from a fire. "Come in."
Hiruzen blinked away at the ghosts of the past and stepped inside.