"Alright, Hisamichi, it's time I report this to my father and discuss the plans regarding him. Also, knowing him, he'll probably want to meet the boy in person, haha. To him, it's like watching his prey from up close."
Shinsuke smirked behind his mask. No one knew Hiruzen Sarutobi's true nature better than he did. As the eldest son, that sharpness and that cruelty had long since rubbed off on him.
"Then pass my regards to my cousin Shikaku," Hisamichi said with a faint smirk of his own. "The man didn't even bother to stop by after his promotion."
Shinsuke chuckled. "He's busier than the two of us combined. He was just appointed as my father's Chief Secretary a few days ago, replacing your uncle. He hasn't had a moment to breathe, let alone come to visit."
"Busy, sure. But I'm not exactly idle either," Hisamichi shot back. "Since childhood, I was ordered to train day after day, thrown into missions where death was always a step behind. Meanwhile, he sat under the shade, buried in scrolls, playing the strategist while acting like carrying papers was some untold hardship."
"And yet," Shinsuke said, his voice warmer now, "that's why your strength eventually surpassed his, despite you being five years younger. Everything has its trade-offs. He inherited his father's brains; you inherited your late father's talent for the field. History repeats itself. In the end, both of you are pillars my father and I will need to rely on."
He patted Hisamichi lightly on the shoulder, almost brotherly. Despite being the same age as Shikaku, Shinsuke had always spent more time with Hisamichi in recent years. All three had grown up together, after all.
And anyone who knew the truth understood that among the three great clans, it was the Nara who had always been closest to the Sarutobi clan and Hiruzen. So close, in fact, that Hiruzen had exempted them from Root's grasp, something no other small or mid-sized clan could boast.
"See you later," Shinsuke said as he turned for the door. "I'm going to meet the old man."
***
Some time after Okabe's report, all four of them were summoned by an administrative shinobi to the Hokage's office.
Walking through the familiar hallways, Ryusei felt a strange sense of déjà vu.
These were the same corridors he'd seen countless times in the manga and anime of his past life, but now they were solid, real, oppressive.
He almost wanted to laugh at how surreal it felt, but he kept his expression flat. Here, even a stray twitch might be noticed.
At the door, the expressionless shinobi guards checked them in, then stepped aside. The four entered.
The office itself was just as he remembered, and at its center sat the man himself.
Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Ryusei's stomach twisted with the strangeness of it. In this timeline, the Hokage was in his mid-fifties, around fifteen years younger than the version Ryusei had first "met" through a screen more or less in his past life.
The difference showed. He wasn't a frail old man yet, though the lines of age were creeping across his face.
His body was clearly a decade past its peak, but his reputation was built less on brute force and more on the sheer depth of jutsu knowledge and experience that let him overwhelm anyone who stood across from him.
Ryusei didn't dare sweep his sensory ability directly over him. Even trying it would be a death wish. Still, based on everything he knew and the aura the man gave off even at rest, he guessed Hiruzen's current strength was still somewhere in the middle to late Kage tier.
His true peak had already passed, about a decade earlier. Back then, he had likely stood at the very height of Kage-level power, what Ryusei dubbed mentally as the 'peak Kage' level.
In this world, most, but not all, shinobi reached and maintained their prime level somewhere between the ages of 35 and 45, the golden years, before the slow decline inevitably set in.
Ryusei's opinion of the man in front of him was simple. He wasn't one of those blind admirers who bought into the softer persona, nor one of the haters who painted him as some cartoon villain. To Ryusei, it was obvious.
Anyone who climbed this high had to be amoral on the inside, ruthless when needed, while keeping up the mask of righteous benevolence on the outside. That was the very foundation of every successful leader in every field of his past life. So those two opposing views he had seen from fans before weren't contradictory at all. They were both true at the same time.
As for the judgment that he was "too weak" as a person, Ryusei didn't buy into that either. Who wasn't weaker after their prime? The man was nearly seventy when he first appeared in the original series. Age alone guaranteed a decline, physically and mentally. Mistakes piled up when ambition faded, and indulgence in long-held power dulled the edge needed to stay on top of the game. Danzo, by contrast, had always been the underdog in their rivalry, hungry and relentless, never letting go of that drive. That imbalance explained a lot.
Still, at least now Danzo couldn't just walk all over him as he possibly could in the future. Hiruzen was the one who had given him his power in the first place, to handle the dirty work, to serve as a scapegoat, to carry half the burden. Only when Hiruzen grew too old and too discredited, carrying the blame of not just one but two world wars, did Danzo finally gain the room to move so brazenly. Root had thrived in the chaos while Hiruzen weakened.
And as for Orochimaru, Ryusei never believed the man spared him purely out of lingering "feelings." That was childish nonsense. On the highest stage of power, sentiment was irrelevant. The real issue was leverage. Orochimaru knew too much. Decades of secrets, ugly truths, all of it. If Hiruzen truly tried to kill him, and Orochimaru had even one backhand prepared, the fallout could shatter his rule in an instant. It simply wasn't worth the risk.
Ryusei thought all of that inwardly, but his face betrayed nothing. The moment they stepped in, the procedure took over. He dropped to one knee before the Hokage's desk, head lowered, voice steady.
"Team Okabe, reporting in, Hokage-sama."
Okabe spoke first, kneeling with practiced precision. Kanae and Renjiro mirrored him perfectly, and Ryusei followed without a single hesitation or mistake. Every movement was exact, without the slightest deviation.
The room itself carried weight. Scrolls lined the walls, maps of Fire Country pinned to wooden boards. The large desk was cluttered yet orderly, papers stacked in neat piles, mission reports sealed with wax, an incense burner trailing a thin line of smoke. Behind it sat Hiruzen Sarutobi, his hat of office resting on the table beside him, leaving only the band of the Konoha crest across his brow.
He looked up slowly, dark eyes calm but unreadable, hands folded loosely in front of him. "At ease," he said, voice mild, yet carrying the tone of a man used to being obeyed.
Okabe rose first, bowing slightly before giving his short, formal summary of the mission. Kanae and Renjiro added their confirmations when prompted.
Ryusei kept his part clipped and flawless, no nervous stumbles, no unnecessary words.
The Hokage nodded once, gaze passing over each of them in turn. His expression never shifted, not even when his eyes settled on Ryusei.
If there was any weight or suspicion in that look, it was hidden under years of trained composure.
Okabe finished his report. Silence hung in the Hokage's office, broken only by the faint crackle of the incense stick on the desk. Hiruzen tapped his brush against the rim of an inkstone, then set it aside and folded his hands.
"You've done well," he said at last. "Take this report to the Mission Desk and collect your pay immediately." His tone was mild, but Okabe's eyes flickered in surprise.
That was not standard protocol; payment usually came after further verification. Still, none of them questioned it aloud.
Then Hiruzen's gaze settled on Ryusei. For a moment, it was unreadable, too calm, too heavy. He leaned back slightly in his chair.
"I must apologize to you in particular. Faulty intelligence nearly cost you your life. For that, your compensation will be doubled. You may also take a month completely off duty together with your team if you choose."
Ryusei bowed low, voice even. "Thank you, Hokage-sama. Your generosity will not be forgotten. I will use the time well."
The Hokage nodded, but his eyes lingered. "Still, you should spend that time in the hospital. Recovery is best left in capable hands."
That was the opening Ryusei had prepared for. He raised his head slightly, his expression composed but his words firm.
"With respect, Hokage-sama, the technique I used to suppress my injuries temporarily complicates treatment for others. It is far safer if I handle it myself."
"My late mother was one of Konoha's senior medical-nin and served in the hospital for decades. She passed much of her knowledge to me. I assure you, I am fit to treat myself properly."
For a moment, the Hokage only watched him, pipe smoke curling in the air between them.
Then he exhaled softly, almost as if weighed by memory.
"Yes… I remember her. A diligent kunoichi. She served this village well." He sighed, as if there was a faint sadness in his eyes, before his voice visibly warmed.
"It seems she left behind more than her skill. Take care of yourself, Ryusei. Konoha still needs you."
Ryusei bowed once more, deep and measured. "I will not fail, Hokage-sama."
"Good." Hiruzen set the signed mission scroll aside. "You're dismissed."
Hiruzen was not particularly shocked by Iwagakure's actions this time. What unsettled him was what they represented: the steady slide toward another Shinobi World War.
For Konoha, that would be disastrous. Not only had the village lost several top fighters in their roster, with or without his direct fault, since the last war, but this time it would almost certainly be the main target.
The other four great villages might still fight among themselves, yet they would unite just enough to strike at Konoha, whose influence and gains since the Second War had made it the natural enemy.
The mission Ryusei's team had completed was, in truth, nothing more than pre-war intelligence work, deniable moves in a conflict not yet declared.
Konoha was doing the exact same thing to Iwa and the other great villages, each side playing a hidden game of chess.
Root existed for precisely this sort of work. Still, Root was a young organization, one that leaned heavily on ANBU and other shinobi for support.
Its advantage, however, lay in its operatives being shaped into tools, unresting, uncomplaining, capable of staying stationed along borderlands for months or even years.
ANBU, by contrast, were drawn from ordinary jōnin and high-end chunin. They had families in the village, ties that pulled them home.
Thus, when it came to operating inside foreign territory or maintaining pressure in hostile zones, it was Root and ANBU who handled the burden.
Regular shinobi were only thrown into such assignments during emergencies or when sheer numbers were required on home ground, like now.
And as for this Senju youngster, Hiruzen felt there was no need to change the tempo.
They had failed to eliminate him this time, yes, but that was never expected with certainty. It was more so a chance for an initial test. There would always be another chance.
'In this matter, I am the cat,' he mused coldly, watching the boy leave his office. 'And he is only a trapped mouse. No need to rush. Sooner or later, the mouse is caught.'
Based on what his eldest son had just reported, the boy had shaken off that genjutsu faster than anticipated, surviving where he should have fallen.
Yet at the same time, the lingering side effects seemed worse than expected. Shinsuke had been working with Danzo directly on the operation, so his information was reliable.
Hiruzen concluded that the boy's soul might simply be stronger than average, but also flawed in ways that left hidden cracks. That only made things easier.
There was no need to push. Root and ANBU were already stretched thin with pre-war maneuvers against the other great villages, while also keeping Fire Country's rear secure from infiltration.
The boy could wait. When the time was right, with the least effort and risk, they would strike again.
And if all that failed, which wasn't very likely? Well, the Third War was on the horizon.
'Wars devour the unwanted all on their own,' he thought, a flicker of satisfaction in his chest.
'That's how his father died, along with hundreds of those foolish Senju revivalists. Not much effort required, no loose ends left. One of the finest strokes of my career.'
In war, the opportunities to send someone to their death multiplied a hundredfold.
Missions, ambushes, accidents, there would be no shortage of ways. And if needed, direct assassinations could be hidden more easily, too, buried under the chaos of larger battles.
Additionally, ANBU and Root would recede into the backdrop then, while the official army bore the burden, so more fitting free hands to do the job.
These thoughts passed through Hiruzen's mind with the easy confidence of a man in control.
He leaned back slightly, feeling powerful, as the boy's footsteps faded from the hall outside.
In Hiruzen's mind, there was simply no universe where this child could ever grow enough to matter.
The gap between their positions was astronomical, unbridgeable even if the Sage of Six Paths himself chose to walk again in mortal flesh.
At most, the boy was a nuisance, never a true variable.
'The next B-rank mission… yes, I already know where you'll be sent,' Hiruzen thought, the corner of his mouth twitching. 'Good luck surviving that one.'
***
Some time ago, the four of them saluted in perfect unison, then turned and departed, the guards outside opening the doors without a word.
As they stepped out of the office and went down to receive their pay and officially add this B-rank mission to their shinobi resumes, Ryusei's expression hadn't changed in the slightest.
The same polite calmness remained, as if he had simply walked in and out on routine.
Inwardly, though, he wasn't surprised at all that the Hokage had bothered with low-ranking fodder like them just now.
In the original series, it had been shown more than once that Hiruzen enjoyed doing things like this, whether to build his image or out of some strange personal habit.
Normally, all of this was handled in the massive Mission Desk hall downstairs, where shinobi reported in and received their assignments.
Yet the protocol could be bent if the Hokage himself decided to take over the desk's role for a case he considered important and do the formalities.
The same applied when mission ranks were assessed and fitting shinobi were paired to their rank to complete them.
The day-to-day decisions were handled by staff down there, but the truly important ones always passed through the Hokage's own office, through the hand of his Chief Secretary.
Now that he had spoken publicly, Ryusei wasn't worried about Hiruzen breaking his word.
A full month free of missions and danger was as good as guaranteed.
Yet inwardly, he felt no joy.
'As I expected… one month is exactly what I'll need to mend these injuries, finish fusing the remnants of the original Ryusei's soul, and get used to this body completely. But that only puts me back at the starting line. High Chūnin level, just what the original had. Not an inch ahead. And then what? Another dangerous mission, thrown in with the same 'stats'. Damn it, these vultures really are determined to kill me the first chance they get. To hell with this so-called Will of Fire…"