The smoke of incense still clung to the air, long after the villagers had dispersed from the ceremony. The graveyard was quiet save for the rustle of leaves, the murmurs of families mourning their own dead, and the distant sound of rebuilding.
Naruto lingered, long after the others had gone. He stared at the freshly turned earth beneath which Hiruzen Sarutobi now rested.
The old man's voice wouldn't leave him. The Will of Fire is to protect those dear to us.
But how could he protect anyone when he had barely survived against Gaara? When he had watched helplessly as the Hokage fought Orochimaru and died?
His fists clenched until the bandages bit into his skin. "If I'd been stronger… maybe…" His throat tightened. He couldn't finish the thought.
---
"You're carrying a heavy weight, kid."
Naruto turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man standing a short distance away. His white hair shone faintly in the dying light, and his expression was far softer than the goofy grin he usually wore.
"Ero-sennin," Naruto muttered, his voice hoarse.
Jiraiya gave him a lopsided smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Hiruzen believed in you. More than you know. He wanted you to inherit that fire. And now…" His voice trailed off, thick with something Naruto had never heard from him before—grief.
Naruto swallowed. "Then help me. Train me. I can't keep falling behind. If I'd been stronger, maybe—"
Jiraiya cut him off sharply. "Don't finish that thought. You can't carry all the world's failures, brat. But you can prepare for the future. And that's where I come in."
Naruto blinked. "You mean…?"
Jiraiya smirked faintly. "I'll train you. Seriously this time. No half measures. But first, you need to understand something. That ability of yours—Perfect Copy—it's powerful. Maybe too powerful. If you stay a mirror, you'll only ever repeat the lives of others. If you want to surpass them, you need to stop copying and start creating."
Naruto's breath caught. The words pierced him deeper than any insult ever had.
"Creating…" he whispered.
"Yeah," Jiraiya said, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You're not here to imitate the Will of Fire. You're here to make your own flame."
---
That same evening, beneath the cracked ceiling of the Hokage's council chamber, the village's leaders gathered.
Homura and Koharu sat grim-faced at the head of the table, their voices low and heavy with urgency. Around them sat the clan heads—Hiashi Hyūga with his cold eyes, Shibi Aburame silent behind his high collar, Inoichi Yamanaka and Chōza Akimichi, and finally, Shikaku Nara with his usual weary gaze.
"The village cannot remain leaderless," Koharu said. "A new Hokage must be chosen quickly."
Some murmured Jiraiya's name. Others, Tsunade's.
But Danzo Shimura leaned on his cane and let the room's bickering simmer before he struck.
"Konoha bleeds," he said softly, and the room fell still. His single eye swept across them all. "Our walls are cracked, our enemies watch from the shadows, and yet you argue over absent Sannin who have abandoned this village for years."
Homura frowned. "Danzo—"
But Danzo continued, voice like steel. "We do not need dreamers or wanderers. We need strength. Sacrifice. A leader who understands that sentimentality is weakness. A Hokage who will protect Konoha at any cost."
The words hung like smoke.
Shikaku narrowed his eyes. "And let me guess… You mean yourself?"
Danzo's lips curved slightly. "If the village requires it."
A murmur rippled across the chamber. Some clan heads looked uneasy, others thoughtful. The elders remained silent, their expressions unreadable.
Danzo leaned back, cane tapping once against the stone.
"While you debate, remember this: weakness invites invasion. We cannot afford weakness again."
---
The next day, Jiraiya led Naruto to Training Ground Three. The clearing was quiet, the morning air crisp.
"Alright," Jiraiya said, crossing his arms. "Show me what you've got."
Naruto grinned, bit his thumb, and slammed his hand to the ground. "Summoning Jutsu!"
Smoke exploded—then cleared to reveal… a tiny, wobbly tadpole with legs too small to support it.
Naruto's face fell. "Uh… It's a start?"
Jiraiya groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Hopeless. Absolutely hope it's."
"Hey! Don't laugh at me!" Naruto shouted, stomping his foot.
But Jiraiya wasn't laughing. His sharp eyes fixed on Naruto. "This is exactly the problem. You've got all the chakra in the world, but no control. You can copy techniques, but they're sloppy. Like reading a book out loud without knowing what the words mean."
Naruto scowled. "So what do I do?"
Jiraiya crouched until he was eye-level. "You stop being a mirror. You start being a prism. A prism doesn't just reflect—it bends light, makes it into something new. You've got the ability to steal the strength of everyone you meet. Fine. But until you learn to make those powers yours, you'll never be more than an imitation."
Naruto's eyes widened. He stared at his bandaged hands. "Make it mine…"
For the first time since the invasion, something stirred inside him—a spark not of desperation, but of purpose.
---
That night, the village moved in two directions.
In the training ground, Naruto pushed himself to exhaustion, trying again and again to summon something more than a tadpole, his determination raw but unbroken under Jiraiya's relentless instruction. Each failure carried him closer to control, to mastery.
In the council chamber, Danzo spoke quietly to the elders long after the clans had left, weaving words like traps. His arguments were sharp, his resolve unyielding. Piece by piece, he began laying claim to influence, his shadow spreading further into the cracks left by Hiruzen's death.
Two seeds had been planted: one of fire, one of shadow.
Both grew in silence, and soon, both would change the Leaf forever.