Hiruzen Sarutobi's eyelid twitched slightly.
The words that had just left Danzo's mouth felt so out of place, even for him.
Danzo's cane tapped lightly against the wooden floor, the sound echoing through the Hokage's office. His tone was steady but carried that familiar undercurrent of ambition.
"Hiruzen, you know Root excels at raising children," he said, his single eye narrowing with conviction. "Entrust Naruto to me. Within ten years, I will train him into a perfect Jinchūriki—obedient, disciplined, and loyal only to Konoha."
The implication was clear. In Danzo's hands, Naruto wouldn't just be a vessel for the Nine-Tails. He would be a weapon.
Hiruzen's face darkened. Slowly, he rose from his seat, his aged body still radiating the quiet authority of the Hokage. His eyes, usually kind, now burned with cold fury as they locked on his old comrade.
"Danzo… you've overstepped."
The words hung heavy in the air.
Danzo said nothing, but the silence between them spoke volumes.
"The attack of the Nine-Tails," Hiruzen continued, his voice stern, "still casts a shadow over the village. Fear lingers, yes, but that is precisely why Naruto must live among the people. He must be seen as one of them—not locked away as a tool of Root."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"Do not forget," Hiruzen went on, "Naruto cannot belong to any faction. Not Root. Not even me, as Hokage. He is the Fourth Hokage's legacy, and the future of this village."
Hiruzen's gaze sharpened, his voice rising with authority.
"This Jinchūriki training plan is mine, endorsed by the two Advisors and the majority of the Jōnin Council. You think you can claim Naruto for yourself? Then remember, Danzo—"
Hiruzen's staff struck the floor with a loud thud.
"—I am the Hokage!"
The final declaration pierced through Danzo like a blade.
For years, he had been the shadow working behind Hiruzen, unacknowledged but indispensable. And yet, here was Hiruzen, reminding him of his place.
Danzo's face twisted with restrained anger. He gave a cold snort, turned sharply, and made for the door. His cane struck harder against the floor with each step, a sign of his simmering frustration.
But before he could leave, Hiruzen shifted the topic with calculated precision.
"Danzo," he called, his tone softer, "for the second Chūnin Exams… I'll need your cooperation."
Danzo froze mid-step, his back still facing the Hokage. His voice came low and sharp, like the edge of a kunai.
"Hiruzen… are you asking me to take the blame again?"
Hiruzen flinched ever so slightly. He had no words for that accusation.
For decades, their partnership had thrived on unspoken understanding. Hiruzen played the benevolent leader in the light; Danzo handled the dirty work in the shadows. The arrangement had always been convenient. Danzo might complain, but he never said it so openly, so directly.
This time, though, the bitterness in his voice was undeniable.
Homura Mitokado quickly interjected, his tone conciliatory. "Danzo, what are you saying? Hiruzen is doing this for the good of the village."
Koharu Utatane followed with a nod. "That's right. The village cannot function without Hiruzen… and it cannot function without you."
Danzo turned his head slightly, his single visible eye sharp as a hawk's.
"I've given everything," he muttered, "yet in the end, I am only ever your shadow."
With that, he yanked the door open, muttered something too low for anyone to catch, and stormed out, his footsteps fading into the hallway.
The office fell into silence.
Hiruzen stared at the now-empty doorway. His lips curled into a tired, bitter smile.
"Kakashi," he said suddenly.
A silver-haired Anbu appeared instantly at his side, masked and silent as the night.
"Find someone to reinstall the door," Hiruzen ordered dryly. "And deduct the cost from Danzo's funds."
"…Yes." Kakashi's reply was curt, but behind the mask, his lips twitched ever so slightly.
Once Kakashi had gone, the two Advisors remained seated, their eyes fixed on Hiruzen.
Koharu spoke first, her tone calculated. "Hiruzen… Hyūga Hiashi is dead. The Hyūga Main Family now stands leaderless. This is our opportunity."
Homura nodded gravely. "If we act swiftly, we can insert a puppet into the clan and slowly gain control. The Hyūga have always stood apart, their feudal traditions keeping them isolated. It is time we brought them under the Hokage's authority."
Their eagerness was evident.
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed as memories surfaced. Two years ago, when the Hidden Cloud delegation came to sign the peace treaty, every prominent clan had sent representatives—except the Hyūga. Even the Uchiha, despite their strained relationship with the village, had shown up.
The Hyūga, however, had chosen to skip the event entirely. Why? Because the entire clan had been occupied preparing for Hinata's third birthday celebration.
National peace had been sidelined for a family affair.
It was a slap in the face, one the Advisors had never forgotten.
And when the Cloud later demanded Hiashi's body as "compensation," both Advisors had stayed silent. It wasn't just diplomacy—it had also been a warning to the Hyūga.
Hiruzen exhaled softly. His mind worked quickly, calculating.
"I will arrange this matter myself," he said firmly.
The Advisors exchanged a look, then nodded, rising to leave. They had planted the seed; now, it was in Hiruzen's hands.
The moment they were gone, Hiruzen's tone hardened.
"Kakashi."
Again, the silver-haired Anbu appeared.
"From this moment," Hiruzen said, "cancel all other Anbu missions. Your only duty is Naruto. Protect him at all costs. Root must never come into contact with him again—nor anyone associated with them."
Kakashi's heart skipped a beat.
"Yes, Hokage-sama."
He bowed deeply, but inside, emotions churned.
Sensei… I finally have the chance to protect your son.
He knew where the rumors had come from—the whispers that Naruto was the Nine-Tails reincarnated, the monster who had killed countless villagers. Such poison didn't spread on its own. Root had orchestrated it, shaping public opinion, isolating the boy deliberately.
Their aim was obvious. Push Naruto to the edge, make him lose control, and when the Nine-Tails emerged, the village would turn on him.
At that moment, Danzo would swoop in with his "solution," gaining control of the boy.
Kakashi clenched his fists.
That future could never be allowed.
"Oh," Hiruzen added suddenly, picking up a small object from his desk. A worn, frog-shaped wallet.
"Deliver this to Naruto's bedside. I heard he bought it with his own savings. It must mean a lot to him."
Hiruzen's tone softened, almost fatherly.
Kakashi stared at the wallet for a long moment, emotions twisting in his chest.
"Understood," he said finally, his voice low but resolute.
"Go," Hiruzen ordered, before glancing at him one last time. "And Kakashi… you don't look well. Perhaps you should read fewer of Jiraiya's books."
Kakashi stumbled at that, nearly slipping as he exited.
Hiruzen chuckled faintly, his eyes drifting toward the Hokage Rock outside the window. His face grew serious once more.
The weight of leadership pressed down on him heavier than ever.
---
The next morning.
Neji stirred awake, blinking groggily. Warmth pressed against him, and he turned his head to see Yugito curled up beside him, half-sprawled across his futon.
Drool glistened at the corner of her mouth, and her hand was lazily patting her side, as though still dreaming. The sight reminded Neji of a small kitten, curled and content.
With a sigh, Neji gently nudged her aside, slipped out from the futon, and began dressing.
Today, news of Hyūga Hiashi's death would spread across Konoha. And when it did, the traitor—the mole hidden in the Hyūga—would act.
All Neji had to do was wait.
After stepping out, he spotted Darui and Karui chatting casually in the corridor, enjoying breakfast. Neither seemed aware of the mission's true weight. Neji offered them a polite smile, then went out to buy food.
A shadow clone carried the breakfast back to the inn. The real Neji, however, made several calculated detours before arriving at the outskirts of Konoha.
There, at the edge of the western district, lay a run-down farm. Its walls sagged with age, weeds sprouted high, and only a few families lived nearby.
Knocking three times on the heavy door, Neji waited.
A muffled voice came from within. "Who is it?"
"Buying some small toys," Neji replied smoothly.
"Where from?"
"The mountain."
The coded exchange complete, the door creaked open.
A plain-looking middle-aged man stood there. No Chakra signature radiated from him—his presence as ordinary as any farmer.
But Neji knew better.
This was Yorui, a Special Jōnin and Kumo's last surviving spy within Konoha.
"Please, follow me," Yorui said, leading him underground.
Inside the dimly lit chamber, they exchanged introductions. Yorui admitted that after multiple purges, he was the only agent left in Konoha.
Neji frowned. One spy wasn't much. Their combat strength was minimal, but intelligence mattered more than numbers.
After dismissing Yorui, Neji stepped outside into the farm's forest. He found a clearing and began his training.
Sword in hand, he swung again and again, simple cuts and thrusts. No Chakra, no flourishes—just pure repetition.
Hours passed. Sweat soaked his clothes. The sound of his blade slicing the air filled the clearing.
From a distance, Yorui watched. At first, he dismissed it as ordinary kenjutsu practice. But as the hours stretched, unease grew.
Why… does it feel so different?
By evening, Neji's blade finally stilled. His breathing was steady, not ragged. And then—
"Congratulations. Your Kenjutsu has reached LV5. Ability unlocked: Sword Intent."
The panel's words burned in Neji's vision.
He whispered the phrase aloud. "Sword Intent…"
The description explained everything. Mental energy infused into the blade. Increased speed, strength, and above all—aura. Oppression. Fear. Illusion.
Neji's lips curved. So this is why Mifune could best shinobi. This was his 'Sword's Conviction.'
He traced a hand along his Chakra blade, closing his eyes. The sword no longer felt like a tool. It was a part of him—an extension of his will.
When he opened his eyes again, Yorui, who had approached with dinner, froze.
Neji's aura had changed. Sharp, suffocating, like standing before a warrior who had slain thousands.
Yorui swallowed hard. Could endless slashes really lead to this?
"Senior Yorui," Neji said calmly, taking the meal. "You should rest. I'll handle the rest."
Moments later, a sound echoed through the night.
Thump… thump… thump…
A figure emerged from the shadows, wrapped entirely in black robes. His steps were stiff, almost mechanical, accompanied by faint gear-like creaks.
Neji narrowed his eyes. He didn't activate his Tenseigan—out of respect—but something about this man felt… unnatural.
"You're here," Neji said evenly.
The black-robed figure tilted his head, surprised. "You were waiting for me? You knew I'd come?"
Neji's gaze was steady. "I knew. Because like me, you despise the Hyūga. Only I can help you. So you had no choice but to come."
The man fell silent, then spoke again, his voice tinged with regret. "So… it was you who killed Hyūga Hiashi. Hmph. A pity. That should have been my hand to strike him down."
Neji's expression hardened. "His death is only the beginning. None of the Main Family will be spared."
At that, the man paused, then slowly nodded. "What do you want me to do?"
Relief flickered in Neji's chest. Cooperation was possible. Still, curiosity gnawed at him.
"Then let us cooperate. But first…" Neji's eyes narrowed. "Remove your mask. Show me your true face."
The black-robed man stiffened. Then he shook his head.
"…I fear I will only disappoint you."
Neji's expression darkened. "You refuse? Then you're not being sincere."
The night air thickened with tension.
The traitor had arrived—and the game had only just begun.
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