The door to the Hokage's office.
Nawaki drew a deep breath and pushed open the barrier that separated inside from out. The turning hinge groaned long and low, as if slicing apart two different worlds.
The light inside the office was subdued. The Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, sat upright behind his broad desk. His crimson Hokage robe looked especially solemn under the slanted daylight streaming in. Scrolls covered the desktop like a sea of gray-yellow paper. In a shadowed corner, a faint presence lay coiled there, like a silent guard.
Ryo stood at the very front. On his left was Kaori, so thin she looked like a gust of wind might carry her off.
Kaori instinctively pinched the edge of Ryo's coat hem between her fingers until her small knuckles went white. Nawaki followed half a step behind, lips pressed tight as he fought to steady his gaze. The brutal truths he had heard outside Kusagakure felt like red-hot needles stabbing through his mind.
"Hokage-sama." Ryo's voice was calm and even, cutting through the heavy air of the office.
Kaori lowered her head even further. Her dark-red hair hung in a disorderly fall over her narrow shoulders, like a flame beaten down by sudden rain.
Hiruzen's gaze fell on Kaori with gentle scrutiny. Ryo caught the fleeting glint of calculation in his eyes, the look of someone faced with an unexpected matter he still had to treat with gravity. Ever since Tsunade's urgent scroll had landed on his desk, he had turned everything about this Uzumaki orphan over and over in his mind.
If not for Tsunade personally staking her name with thunderous weight, a bloodline bearer of unknown background would have faced a far harsher intake. There would have been strict reviews, perhaps even a Yamanaka memory probe for a soul-level audit.
Right then, Hiruzen's expression softened into the kind smile Nawaki knew so well. That smile, born of long years, was his habitual stance when facing knots that could not be untangled quickly.
"Child," Hiruzen leaned forward slightly. His voice slowed and softened to a reassuring murmur. "I am Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Third Hokage of Konoha. The journey was hard. You have made it to the Leaf, and—"
Before he finished, Nawaki's eyelid twitched hard.
He forced himself not to look away. Those cruel truths he had heard outside Kusagakure throbbed in his skull like heated needles.
Knowing the high-level calculations back then, he barely kept from rolling his eyes. Nausea surged up from his gut, and he nearly retched. He bit down on the soft flesh inside his cheek until the taste of iron spread in his mouth.
Do not lose it. At his side, his right hand slid down to his thigh. Through the cloth, his nails dug hard into his own flesh. The sharp pain crushed the boiling wave of rage. The hotheaded kid from before had changed after these months of blood and iron, at least enough to learn endurance.
Hiruzen seemed not to notice Nawaki's internal storm. He continued to Kaori, "Back then, when Uzushiogakure fell…"
He sighed, sorrow knitting his brows as if lamenting a dusty chapter of village history. "Konoha was too late to aid you. The distance was great, enemy movements unclear. There were many concerns."
A complicated shadow flickered deep in his eyes. And within those concerns back then, there had also been the expedient calculations of the village leadership, Utatane Koharu, Mitokado Homura, Shimura Danzō, and himself. While Uzumaki Mito still lived and her prestige loomed large, they feared accepting the entire Uzumaki clan. A mighty shinobi clan whose potential rivaled Senju and Uchiha joining the Leaf would mean reslicing the pie of power and resources, a burden to the balance the leadership clung to.
"Child, you have suffered." His tone held genuine regret, with a heavy weight.
His fingers lifted slightly and, almost casually, pressed atop a somewhat worn scroll on the desk, a deep-brown scroll soaked in a special solution, its head stamped with a bright red cross mark signifying urgency and confirmation. Beside it, bold strokes spelled out "Tsunade."
"With Tsunade's guarantee, many procedural steps can naturally be simplified," Hiruzen said, his voice steady as bedrock. "The Uzumaki have always been Konoha's closest blood ally. Back then Konoha failed to reach out in time. Now…"
His gaze returned to Kaori. "Child, Konoha is your home. Stay, learn, and live in peace. The Leaf welcomes family who share our blood." His words had weight, and they reflected his measured judgment. Times had changed. Before him stood a lone, battered little girl. One Uzumaki could not overturn the heavens. For today's Konoha, taking in one more bloodline, even symbolically one more clan, was not a bad thing. It was a modest reinforcement.
"Home." The word touched Kaori. Her perpetually bowed head lifted a few millimeters. In the emptiness of her eyes, something faintly stirred, so subtle it was almost imperceptible.
Ryo had remained silent. From the corner of his eye he took in Hiruzen's words and the heavy backing implied by Tsunade's scroll at the desk's edge.
He knew well that Tsunade's name did not only smooth over harsh bloodline screenings that could shut anyone out, or even demand memory audits. It also smothered certain doubts born in the higher echelons, rooted in old, shadowed schemes. That scroll was a scepter.
When Hiruzen gravely revisited delayed support and many concerns, a sliver of cold light flashed in Ryo's black eyes. Kusa's cowardly retreat, its leader's base ugliness, the scars carved into Kaori's flesh and bone, all of it mocked that pretext. The political grime behind those concerns was as murky as the guard's shadow in the corner.
Ryo's face, however, showed no ripple. Tsunade's guarantee had opened the door. Hiruzen's present stance fell within expectations.
"Hokage-sama," Nawaki's voice broke in, abrupt and tightly controlled, almost too urgent to suppress, cutting him off. Taking advantage of the Hokage's focus on the matter at hand, he stepped forward, body taut, desperate to throw out the promise he carried. Tsunade's scroll lay quiet at the desk edge, and the Hokage's attitude made the timing feel right.
"Jiraiya-nii is badly wounded and cannot move," Nawaki rattled off, afraid that if he were late by even a heartbeat he would drown in his emotions again. "He asked me to spend all the merit points he has earned to redeem one S-rank forbidden technique, Flying Thunder God, created by my Second Granduncle, Senju Tobirama." He practically shouted it. "For Namikaze Minato. Jiraiya-nii said Minato has the talent." His eyes locked on Hiruzen.
The air in the office went still for a heartbeat.
Hiruzen's mild expression hit a snag at Nawaki's sudden shout. Looking at Nawaki's trainee-scolded impatience, a barely visible twinge of helplessness crossed his eyes, part headache at Nawaki's rashness, part awareness of the extra paperwork when Jiraiya tried to shortcut process.
He tapped a finger softly on the desk, tok, a reminder and a moment to arrange his thoughts.
Namikaze Minato, golden-haired, gifted, calm. Hiruzen knew the boy's talent. His growth benefited Konoha.
Hiruzen slowly lifted his lids. His gaze paused on Ryo's steady face for a beat, then slid to Nawaki's flushed cheeks. "Jiraiya's merits are more than sufficient," he said, voice even, reassuring, and setting the tone. "As for Minato—"
He nodded slightly. "Apt and steady. Worth cultivating."
Leaning back a little into the broad chair, his crimson robe fanned gently. "I will make arrangements. The training grounds for Flying Thunder God, and the scroll, once Minato completes his current mission and returns to the village, preparations can begin."
His gaze returned to Kaori. "Good child, the Senju residence has been prepared. It is spacious, quiet, close to the Academy, perfect for recuperation. If you need anything, find Nawaki." His voice painted the plan for her with gentle certainty.
Relief crashed through Nawaki. The boulder on his chest fell away and he exhaled without meaning to. He could not help glancing at Ryo, eyes bright with mission accomplished. But the moment his gaze met Ryo's deep, unfathomable black eyes, that lightness froze.
"Nawaki." Ryo's voice broke the brief silence, ringing clear. Nawaki jolted and snapped to attention. "Here!"
Ryo's glance lingered on him only a heartbeat before anchoring on Hiruzen. His tone was flat, rippleless. "Hokage-sama has arranged matters well. Nawaki," he shifted to direct instruction, "take Kaori to settle in, get familiar with the place, and learn the routes." He placed a small weight on get familiar. "I will finish reporting on the front, then meet you there."
Nawaki's heart tightened. Report? But he caught the hint in Ryo's eyes. He snapped back like he had received a formal order. "Understood."
He turned and crouched to meet Kaori's still-rigid posture, pulling on a broad, sunny smile to pass along a sense of safety. "Hey Kaori, with me. I will take you somewhere quiet and roomy to rest, ten thousand times better than those busted places you slept in at Kusa."
Kaori's body gave a tiny shiver. She instinctively raised her head to look up at Ryo.
Feeling her gaze, Ryo tilted his head and met her dark-red eyes, fearful yet filled with fierce attachment. He extended a long-fingered hand. That wide palm, warm and steady, came to rest on her bowed head. He pressed down gently and firmly. The weight and warmth of his hand seemed to ease some unseen knot.
"Go," Ryo said. The voice was not loud, but it carried absolute assurance.
Kaori drew a deep breath, like drawing courage. She gave the smallest nod. Her tiny hand, trembling, let loose one finger from the death-grip on Ryo's hem and, very slowly and very carefully, touched the edge of Nawaki's broad palm. She did not clasp it, only that fragile brush of contact.
Nawaki's smile turned more genuine. With utmost care he took the girl's cold, soft hand, as if cupping a frost-kissed tender leaf in need of sunlight. "Let's go." His voice was feather-light and slow as he led her toward the heavy office door.
Their footsteps creaked steadily on the polished wooden floor. Nawaki deliberately slowed his pace to match Kaori's wavering, hollow steps. One step, two. They pushed open the door that symbolized power and responsibility. Sunlight spilled in from the corridor outside, spreading a small pool of brightness. Nawaki bent slightly, guiding Kaori. A big and a small silhouette slipped slowly into that light.
The door's weight drew it closed behind them without a sound.
The last faint scrape of the hinge dissolved into the thick air. With the outside muffled, the office settled into a focused quiet.
The massive desk stood like a border between village affairs.
After the two disappeared, Hiruzen's gentleness thinned away like mist under sunlight, revealing the more customary layer beneath, thinking, solemn. The bright office light etched his features, the look of someone about to tackle major business with steady concentration. He did not immediately look at Ryo. His fingers tapped habitually on the heavy dossier by the dark characters "Frontline Situation Outline," as if confirming the agenda ahead.
"All right," Hiruzen began, the warmth fading from his tone as it shifted to an official, even cadence. "We can now speak about the front in detail."
He lifted his eyes, level and direct, toward Ryo, the seriousness of a man who needs key information. "Ryo, report the situation at the front, everything, in full."
In the deepest corner of the room, where filing cabinets and a giant shinobi world map cast their partition of shadow, the guard's silhouette grew even more still as the atmosphere changed, like a stone statue plunged in water, ensuring these proceedings went undisturbed.
That figure had taken in everything that just happened.
(To be continued.)