The rain over Konoha had broken by dawn, leaving mist on the tiled roofs of the Hokage Tower. Inside the upper chamber, the air smelled faintly of wet stone and ink. Scrolls lay stacked in ordered piles, but Hiruzen's attention was not on them.
He sat behind his desk, pipe unlit, watching as Shikaku bowed before him. Flanking the strategist were Inoichi, travel-worn but steady, and Yamato, hood lowered, expression unreadable.
"Welcome back," Hiruzen said. "Report."
Shikaku straightened, pulling a sealed packet of notes from his cloak. He set it on the desk. "Wave Country is stable, Hokage-sama. Too stable. Not the daimyo's doing. Someone else has seized the reins."
The elders shifted behind Hiruzen. Koharu leaned forward, thin fingers gripping her shawl. Homura's eyes sharpened. Danzo, leaning on his cane in the shadows, remained utterly still.
"Explain," Hiruzen said.
Shikaku's tone was dry, efficient, but beneath it was weight. "We expected disorder after Gato's fall. Instead, the daimyo announced tax relief, debt forgiveness for workers, and tighter schedules on shipments. Bridge crews are paid on time. The markets open earlier. The docks run smoothly. The people whisper, but they do not fear."
He slid a sheet forward—an excerpted ledger, written in a hand too precise to belong to Wave's weak daimyo. "This system was designed, Hokage-sama. The extortion framework Gato left behind has been restructured into governance. Someone understands both coin and discipline."
Inoichi spoke next, his voice even. "Merchants refused bribes. Dockhands quoted rules they never knew before. They said only one thing when pressed: 'The Order is watching.'"
"The Eclipse Order," Yamato added softly. "That name is spreading in Wave."
The chamber's silence grew taut.
"Go on," Hiruzen said.
Shikaku's gaze flicked briefly to the elders, then back to his Hokage. "We saw him. The blindfolded man. White hair, tall, moving through Wave as if the streets were his. Civilians bowed without realizing it. Soldiers stepped aside. He stood beside the daimyo during an announcement, introduced his Eclipse Order as Wave's protectors. They wear uniforms now, black with a half-circle insignia. They move like trained shinobi, but with discipline more like ANBU."
Homura frowned. "And the Sharingan child?"
Shikaku's arms folded across his chest. "Confirmed. Under ten years old. Two tomoe in each eye. He fought mercenaries with precision—more restraint than most adults. Always close to the blindfolded man, or to Zabuza Momochi."
The name hit like a thrown kunai.
"Zabuza?" Koharu hissed. "The Demon of the Mist?"
"Confirmed," Shikaku repeated. "His blade leaves a signature no one else can mimic. We saw the cuts ourselves. He isn't rumor. He follows the blindfolded man's banner now."
Danzo's cane clicked once on the floor. "Then the reports were true. A rogue Mist swordsman, a surviving Uchiha, and a man with unknown powers consolidating control over a trade hub. This cannot stand."
Hiruzen exhaled smoke he had not lit. "What of the people?"
Shikaku paused before answering. "They approve. They don't speak of fear. They speak of safety. A woman who once hid her children at night now lets them play in the square. A fisherman said he'd rather pay Eclipse tax than daimyo's, because at least it comes with protection. Hokage-sama, this isn't a gang. It's a government in all but name."
The elders' voices rose at once.
"This is unacceptable—"
"We must assert Konoha's authority—"
Hiruzen's hand lifted. Silence fell, though Danzo's eye gleamed with cold calculation.
"Your assessment, Shikaku," Hiruzen said.
Shikaku rubbed the back of his neck, expression half-tired, half-sharp. "Troublesome doesn't cover it. The blindfolded one—Gojo, they call him—he's the leader, no question. The men move when he speaks, the daimyo hides behind him. But the boy… the Uchiha… he's different. Too disciplined for his age. He fights with precision, not panic. And the people—" he hesitated, then added, "—they've already woven him into their rumors. A child with red eyes who saves them from mercenaries. That's not leadership yet, but it's symbolism. Symbols grow fast."
Hiruzen's gaze deepened. "Then he is not just another survivor."
"No," Shikaku said. "He's a piece on the board we can't ignore. If we treat him like an ordinary orphan, we'll misplay. And misplaying against that blindfolded man… is suicide."
Hiruzen's eyes softened with tired pride. "Troublesome, isn't it?"
Shikaku gave the faintest smile. "Very."
That night, rumors seeped through Konoha faster than rain through tile.
At the training grounds, genin whispered:
"They say an Uchiha child survived."
"Impossible. Itachi killed them all."
"No—two tomoe already. Faster than anyone since Shisui."
At the tea shops, merchants leaned close:
"Wave is safe now."
"Safer than under their daimyo."
"Because of rogues? Or because of something worse?"
And in the barracks, chunin muttered over sake:
"A blindfolded man stopping weapons without chakra?"
"Sounds like a fairy tale."
"Then explain the corpses cut in half. Zabuza's blade doesn't lie."
The stories curled through the village like smoke. Some painted Eclipse Order as devils. Others as saviors. All agreed: Wave had changed.
Elsewhere in the tower, Danzo descended into Root's hidden halls. His operatives knelt in silence as he passed, masks gleaming in torchlight. He entered his chamber, scrolls laid out before him like bones.
His eye lingered on one note: Uchiha survivor. Two tomoe.
"A child," he murmured. "And yet, not a child. A tool, if properly forged."
Then he thought of the blindfolded man. He remembered the Nine-Tails' night—the figure who walked through fire, untouched.
"No man is untouchable," Danzo whispered. "Only untested."
He reached for a blank scroll and began to write—not orders for blades, but for traders, for lures, for contracts that would pull strings in Wave without leaving his name.
Root's shadow lengthened again.
Hiruzen stood alone at his window, pipe finally lit. Smoke curled into the night as he stared across the roofs of Konoha. He thought of a child with red eyes, of a man who defied the fox's fury, of villagers who cheered shadows instead of fearing them.
Konoha had survived storms before. But this was no storm. This was a tide, slow and steady, reshaping the shore.
And tides, Hiruzen knew, did not ask permission.