It was perfectly reasonable for people to have doubts.
After all, what kind of ordinary child would warrant the personal attention of a major clan head?
No matter how impressive Jaxon was in his behavior or intellect, without a powerful background, would anyone in the shinobi world truly take him seriously?
Even the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, had similar thoughts. If Jaxon had merely been a brat from a commoner family acting recklessly, Hiruzen would have sent someone to quietly remove the boy long ago. No tolerance, no patience—just elimination.
But the fact that he hadn't?
That alone said everything.
---
Konoha Village Streets – Late Afternoon
After wrapping up his meeting at the Hyuga estate, Jaxon made his way through the misty streets of Konoha, the rain now reduced to a light drizzle. The sky had begun to clear, and puddles dotted the roads. Pedestrians were sparse, and the silence brought a sense of tranquility to the bustling village.
Just as he was growing bored with the uneventful walk, a sharp voice rang out.
"Hey! Are you the jerk who made my sister cry?!"
A child, maybe three or four years old, darted out from a side alley and stopped in front of Jaxon.
The boy stood with his left hand on his hip, pointing dramatically with his right finger. His face was scrunched up in indignation. He had shaggy brown hair, wore a green vest over a plain shirt, shorts, and sandals—his demeanor equal parts cute and defiant.
The sudden appearance made Jaxon blink in mild surprise.
Behind him, Afu and the others remained silent, unsure whether to laugh or intercept. Jaxon, as usual, showed no outward reaction.
The boy pouted when he didn't get an immediate response, placed both hands on his hips, and huffed, "Hey! I'm talking to you! Are you Jaxon?!"
Jaxon sighed.
"...And who exactly are you supposed to be?" he asked, deadpan.
Why did these wannabe ninja kids always seem like they needed a light smack?
The boy puffed out his chest, proudly declaring, "I'm Senju Nawaki! Remember that name, because I'm gonna be the next Hokage!"
He shouted it with such conviction that it bordered on embarrassing. Jaxon cringed internally. If he ever said something that cringe-worthy aloud, he might curl into a ball and disappear from sheer secondhand shame.
"Anyway, you made my sister cry! So now, I challenge you!"
Nawaki clenched his fists and charged like a miniature whirlwind of righteous fury, clearly intent on decking Jaxon without hesitation.
Jaxon didn't flinch.
Nor did anyone behind him move to block the incoming strike. Not because they were unaware—but because they knew better.
Just before the punch could land, a blur of motion appeared between them.
Swish!
A tall man moved with precise speed, grabbing Nawaki's wrist mid-swing while simultaneously wrapping an arm around his waist. With one smooth motion, he leapt ten meters back, landing with the child securely restrained.
"My sincerest apologies," the man said quickly. "Young Master Nawaki doesn't yet understand proper decorum. On behalf of the Senju Clan, we deeply apologize for the disturbance."
He bowed deeply and respectfully.
The man wore civilian-style clothing—no headband, no visible clan emblem—but his bearing and reaction speed clearly marked him as a Jonin-level shinobi. More importantly, he was an internal member of the Senju Clan, someone who operated behind the scenes rather than on the front lines.
Afu stepped forward, bowing slightly toward Jaxon.
"Young Master, are you alright?"
Jaxon smiled.
"I'm fine. It just so happens that we're planning to visit the Senju Clan tomorrow, aren't we?"
With that, he casually walked toward the sulking Nawaki.
The Senju Jonin bowed again. "I apologize once more, Lord Jaxon."
Jaxon waved it off with a faint smile, then stared curiously at Nawaki.
"This kid… he's Tsunade's little brother, right?"
Nawaki scowled.
"So what if I am?! It's your fault my sister's upset! You... you made her sad!"
Still restrained, he clenched his fists and kicked his feet in frustration, like a kitten trying to fight a lion.
The Jonin holding him sighed in embarrassment.
"I truly apologize again for this incident. I've heard that your group will be visiting us tomorrow—please allow us to make up for this rudeness then."
Without waiting for further response, he vanished in a flicker of chakra, taking the still-grumbling Nawaki with him.
None of Jaxon's entourage paid much mind to the interruption. After all, this wasn't the first time someone had tried something foolish—and it likely wouldn't be the last.
---
Later That Evening – Jaxon's Temporary Residence
The rain had stopped completely, and the skies over Konoha glowed red with the colors of a breathtaking sunset.
Inside his room, Jaxon sat at a table, delicately placing small, intricate components onto the wooden surface. Using a pair of tweezers, he was carefully assembling a miniature castle—complete with towers, walls, and tiny figurines.
As he placed the final spire on a tower, Afu entered the room.
"Young Master, an Anbu is at the door with a message."
Jaxon didn't look up.
"What kind of message?"
"The Hokage has invited you for a meeting."
At that, Jaxon's hand paused mid-air. He slowly set down the tweezers and turned toward the glowing window, where clouds the color of fire drifted lazily above the village.
"Hiruzen Sarutobi, huh?" he murmured.
It didn't surprise him. After all, he had been moving rather high-profile since arriving in Konoha. A meeting with the Hokage was inevitable. Especially one as controlling as Hiruzen—who liked to keep his hands in every pocket.
"If he didn't call me in for a chat, I'd be more worried," Jaxon added with a chuckle. "The Third's a cautious man. This is just a formality."
He stood and stretched, then headed toward the bathroom to prepare.
After all, it was important to look presentable—especially when facing the so-called "Professor" of the ninja world.
Afu bowed and stepped aside, allowing him room to pass.
Outside the house, a lone figure stood silently by the gate.
He wore the black standard Anbu uniform, complete with a white porcelain mask. But even without seeing his face, the silver-white hair was unmistakable.
Sakumo Hatake.
He made no move to speak, no gesture to rush or hurry. He simply waited.
He had no escort with him.
He didn't need one.
Because wherever Sakumo Hatake walked, he was the escort.
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