Hiruzen Sarutobi leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the scroll lying open before him. His voice came out calm but edged with fatigue.
"So… what did he do today?"
The ANBU kneeling behind him answered without hesitation, his tone steady and respectful. "Sasuke Uchiha sent a clone to the Academy as usual, while the real one continued his kenjutsu training."
There was a brief pause. The ANBU shifted slightly before continuing, "He's completed the Tree Climbing Exercise, Lord Hokage… but hasn't started Water Surface Walking yet."
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed a fraction, a small glint appearing beneath the shadow of his hat.
"Hmm… that boy really is the most gifted of his generation," he muttered quietly, almost to himself.
"Anything else?" he asked after a moment, his voice returning to its usual calm.
"Nothing else, sir."
"Understood."
With a simple wave of his hand, Hiruzen dismissed him. The masked figure vanished in an instant, leaving only the quiet rustle of papers and the faint hum of wind outside the window.
Hiruzen exhaled softly, reaching into the drawer beside him. He pulled out his old pipe, the one he'd been using for decades now, chipped at the edge but familiar. Striking a match, he lit it, taking a long, thoughtful drag.
Smoke curled lazily through the air as he turned toward the window. Outside, even at night, Konoha was alive: children laughing near the market, shinobi leaping from rooftop to rooftop, merchants shouting over prices.
"…It was worth it," he murmured under his breath, voice low and almost wistful.
He could've chosen differently back then. The Uchiha had stood shoulder to shoulder with the Senju when this village was founded. They had earned their place, earned the right to lead.
For a moment, his eyes darkened. He remembered the words of his teacher, the Second Hokage, echoing in the back of his mind:
"No Uchiha should ever be Hokage… not while they carry that evil eye and without them they couldn't Hokage."
Hiruzen sighed, a faint trace of guilt flickering across his face. "Haa… maybe you were right, sensei… or maybe we just never gave them a chance," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
The old man took another slow puff of his pipe, eyes drifting back to the lively village below, the same village built on peace, fear, and sacrifice.
"Still," he murmured, smoke escaping his lips, "for now… it's enough."
His gaze shifted toward the window again, drawn instinctively to the Hokage Rock standing tall against the sunset. The faces of Konoha's leaders were etched into the stone, a reminder of the legacy each had carried.
Hiruzen's eyes lingered on one face in particular: the stern, calculating expression of his former teacher, Tobirama Senju.
"…Tobirama-sensei," he said quietly, the weight of years pressing into his voice. "If you were alive… how would you feel today, I wonder?"
He took another slow draw from his pipe, the embers glowing faintly in the dim light.
"The Uchiha are gone now," he continued under his breath, almost as though confessing to the mountain itself. "There's no doubt about it. No more rebellion, no more whispers of another Madara rising from the ashes."
His tone was calm, but there was something hollow beneath it, something that sounded almost like regret.
"As for Sasuke," a faint sigh escaped him, "he's talented, yes, perhaps the most gifted of his age. But talent means little without power."
He turned away from the window, eyes falling to the stack of mission reports on his desk, yet his mind was elsewhere.
"He has no one left to teach him, no clan to guide him. No secret jutsu to inherit."
Hiruzen set the pipe down, the smoke fading into the air like a ghost.
"Hmph… at the end of the day," he said softly, "he's all alone. But that's fine… as long as he stays within this village, he's safe."
His expression hardened slightly, the warmth gone, replaced by the cold resolve of a Hokage.
"And as long as he remains here," he whispered, a glint of iron in his eyes, "Itachi will never betray the village."
Turning back to his desk, Hiruzen's expression shifted from reflection to focus. The soft rustle of parchment broke the silence as he pulled a thick folder toward him.
"An organisation made up of S-rank missing-nin," he muttered under his breath, scanning the document. "This Akatsuki… tch, they're more dangerous than I thought."
His brows furrowed as he trailed a finger down the list of names, each one more unsettling than the last. Then his hand stopped.
A name he knew far too well.
"…Orochimaru," he exhaled, the word carrying both disappointment and an edge of sorrow.
He leaned back in his chair, pipe forgotten, eyes narrowing slightly. "So even he's joined their ranks."
The old man's gaze drifted toward the window again, but this time there was no trace of nostalgia in it, only the weary understanding of a man who'd seen too many cycles of betrayal and ambition.
"If a mind like his is drawn to that organisation," he murmured, "then things are far from simple."
He closed the file slowly, fingers resting on the worn cover as if weighing the gravity of the threat. "The leader possesses the Rinnegan," he muttered, voice low and heavy. "One of the three great dōjutsu. For years, it was thought to exist only in legends, the eyes of the Sage of Six Paths himself."
The Hokage's hand clenched around the edge of the desk. "And now someone walks this world bearing them."
He took a slow breath, pipe smoke curling around his face as his eyes darkened with thought.
"Then there's that other man, the one who calls himself Madara." The name alone made the air feel colder.
Hiruzen's jaw tensed. "There's no doubt, even if he isn't Madara himself, he's someone connected to him. And anyone connected to that name…" He exhaled sharply through his nose. "…is a threat the world can't afford to ignore."
"If these pieces truly move under a single hand," he whispered, "then peace is nothing more than a fragile dream."
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