Sarutobi Hiruzen leaned back in his chair, eyes lowered in silence, a pipe clenched between his teeth as smoke curled slowly upward.
The air was oppressive—like a sealed ceramic jar under pressure—so stifling that it made one want to shatter the walls just to breathe.
"Cough, cough!"
At last, Utatané Koharu couldn't take it anymore. Her cough shattered the unbearable stillness.
"Hiruzen… about this matter—"
Mitokado Homura let out a breath of relief and glanced sideways at Danzō, who still stood rigidly, refusing to lower his head. Turning back to Hiruzen, he spoke carefully.
"This time… Danzō may have gone a bit too far—"
"Too far?" Hiruzen interrupted coldly.
"Conducting Wood Release experiments in secret, hiding both the research results and a Wood Release user—do you really think that's merely 'a bit' excessive?"
Homura's aged face flushed faintly. He looked helplessly toward Danzō.
Wood Release.
No one present could pretend not to understand what that meant.
Who would have imagined that Danzō's audacity had grown to the point where he dared hoard a Wood Release shinobi?
If not for the investigation following Orochimaru's defection, they might never have learned that Wood Release had reappeared at all.
Danzō's grip over Root had grown so deep that even Homura felt uneasy.
"Root is Konoha's root," Hiruzen said slowly.
"It is the ANBU's root. It is my root."
His eyes narrowed as he fixed them on Danzō.
"And yet, something this important was hidden from the Hokage. Doesn't that mean—"
He paused.
"That it has become an independent organization serving someone's private ambitions?"
At last, Danzō spoke, his voice low and heavy.
"Everything I do is for Konoha."
Hiruzen exhaled a plume of smoke, his face obscured in drifting white haze, unreadable from Danzō's angle.
"Hiruzen…" Koharu finally spoke up as well.
"Enough."
Hiruzen waved a hand impatiently, cutting off their attempts to defend Danzō.
After Tobirama-sensei was killed by Kumo's ambush, Hiruzen had been forced to assume the mantle of Hokage in crisis.
But the reality of the position was nothing like the ideal he had once imagined.
War.
Clan pressure.
Endless compromises.
His illusions about the Hokage seat had shattered almost instantly.
In the beginning, neither the Hyūga nor the Uchiha truly obeyed him—only listening when it suited them.
Fortunately, when power struggles arose, Hiruzen stood on the side of "the greater good," backed not only by the Sarutobi clan but also by Ino–Shika–Chō.
He struck some down, drew others closer.
With Danzō and others' help—and through less-than-clean methods—he fostered rivalry between the Uchiha and the Hyūga, stabilizing his position and consolidating authority.
In Tobirama's era, Root had been nothing more than an ANBU training branch.
Only later—when Hiruzen handed it to Danzō to deal with matters too dirty for ANBU's name, such as monitoring clans—did it gradually morph into an intelligence organization.
In theory, Root was merely an ANBU subdivision.
By standard structure, Danzō should have commanded no more than four squads—seventeen people.
But through Hiruzen's conscious and unconscious indulgence, Root had expanded unchecked, its methods growing darker by the day—
Until now.
If left alone any longer, Root would become completely uncontrollable—nothing more than Danzō's private army.
It had to be restrained.
"The Wood Release user 'Kinoe' is no longer up for discussion," Hiruzen said flatly.
"I've already transferred him into ANBU."
Ignoring Danzō's resentful expression, he continued.
"There's another matter."
He looked at the three before him.
"Border intelligence indicates that Kumogakure is mobilizing forces. They may be planning something again."
"What do you think?"
Koharu and Homura both frowned.
"Again?" Homura snapped irritably. "Disgusting."
"No matter what they're plotting, we must not act rashly," he said sternly.
Koharu nodded. "Homura's right. Whatever they intend, we defend—and nothing more. We can't give them any excuse to start a war."
Hiruzen neither agreed nor disagreed. He tapped his pipe lightly, then turned to Danzō.
"And you?"
Danzō's shadowed eyes narrowed.
After a pause, he answered hoarsely:
"Hit them until it hurts."
Silence followed.
Hiruzen drew deeply on his pipe—into his lungs, holding it—then released the smoke slowly.
Though the Third Great Ninja War had ended, the shinobi world was anything but stable.
Konoha's high-end combat strength had been gutted:
The White Fang of Konoha—dead by suicide
Minato Namikaze, the Fourth Hokage—dead
Uzumaki Kushina, the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki—dead
Veterans lost in the Third War had yet to be replaced.
Then came the Nine-Tails Incident, claiming even more lives.
No matter how deep Konoha's foundations ran, even it was beginning to crack.
Anyone with eyes could see it.
Kumogakure and Iwagakure—though beaten bloody—couldn't ignore such an opportunity.
They probed Fire Country's borders relentlessly.
Every few months, another skirmish.
More wounded. More dead.
Because Konoha kept yielding.
Because weakness invited arrogance.
Only the lingering war-weariness of Lightning and Earth Country's civilians kept them from launching outright war.
But they needed only one thing.
A legitimate excuse.
One that would stir the daimyō, nobles, and populace into demanding war.
Hiruzen refused to give them that excuse.
He didn't dare gamble.
And now—
Konoha couldn't afford to gamble anymore.
"Haa…"
Hiruzen exhaled slowly and lowered his gaze to the ANBU report in his hands.
His aging face remained hidden behind smoke, unreadable even in the sunlight.
"Iwagakure… Kumogakure…"
After a moment, he sighed.
"For now, we endure. Dispatch shinobi to reinforce the border against Kumo."
Danzō frowned and snapped back, "That will only embolden those bastards!"
Hiruzen glanced at him calmly.
"In that case, send a detachment from my Root to provide support."
"What?" Danzō froze.
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed meaningfully.
"Is there a problem?"
Any further objection—
And Danzō would lose Root entirely.
Realizing this, Danzō's expression twisted. He snorted and turned away.
"Fine. What problem could there be? It is your Root, after all!"
He stormed toward the door, then stopped abruptly.
"Remember this choice, Sarutobi," he said bitterly.
"You'll regret it."
"Mind your tone, Danzō," Hiruzen said sharply, knocking ash from his pipe.
"I am the Hokage."
Danzō's face twitched.
"Then be a Hokage worth the title!"
BANG!
The door slammed shut.
Koharu flinched.
Homura sighed quietly.
"At least… he's still in your grasp," he muttered.
"Let's hope this lesson keeps him in line."
Then Homura frowned again.
"By the way, Hiruzen… the village is already stretched thin. Is it really wise to let Jiraiya remain outside?"
Hiruzen thought of Jiraiya—who had left the village under the pretext of hunting Orochimaru—and sighed inwardly.
"When it's time," he said evenly,
"he'll come back."
Seeing Hiruzen's reluctance to elaborate, Koharu and Homura exchanged a look and took their leave.
Click.
The door closed.
Hiruzen remained still for a long time, the room filled only with the sound of his breathing.
At last, he rose stiffly and walked to the window.
Rain-washed Konoha looked pristine.
Droplets clung to eaves; puddles reflected light like scattered mirrors—on leaves, streetlamps, tiled walls—casting back an image of prosperity.
He thought of many things.
The hard-won peace.
The crises hidden beneath it.
Orochimaru and Jiraiya, gone from the village.
Tsunade, numbing herself at gambling tables.
The orphan Minato and Kushina left behind.
And—
The Hyūga boy's eyes, looking at him with pure admiration.
"Hiss…"
Hiruzen inhaled deeply, the bitter smoke filling his lungs before slowly exhaling.
The pipe glowed faintly.
"All right," he murmured to himself.
"No matter the sacrifice… Konoha's fragile peace must be protected."
Training Ground No. 44 — The Forest of Death
Sunlight filtered through leaves, scattering golden flecks across two figures' shoulders.
"Senpai—power rises from the ground, travels through the spine. Balance hardness with softness—"
"YA!"
Both wooden posts before them were shattered.
But Gin's had exploded from the inside.
Guy's, meanwhile, had clearly been pulverized by sheer brute force.
Watching Guy's completely unrefined, force-over-technique strikes, Gin's smile began to strain after an entire morning of teaching.
"Huff…"
Even Guy—who could run laps around Konoha all day without tiring—was drenched in sweat.
He scratched his head sheepishly.
" Gin, your modified Gentle Fist is really hard to learn."
"You've spent over a decade refining Strong Fist," Gin replied, shaking his head.
"Reprogramming instinct takes time. Let's stop here for today."
As Guy and Lee once discussed during the Chūnin Exams:
Strong Fist focuses on external damage—bones, muscles
Gentle Fist targets the chakra network and organs
Nintaijutsu (like Tsunade or the Fourth Raikage) fuses ninjutsu and taijutsu
Gin's goal was to combine the strengths of Strong and Gentle Fist—
And eventually build a taijutsu system suited to the Eight Gates.
"All right, then—"
Before Guy could finish, Gin's neck prickled.
A deep, unnatural chill surged up his spine.
Sudden.
Terrifying.
His muscles tensed instantly, veins bulging around his Byakugan.
SHRRK—!
The sound came almost simultaneously.
Assassination.
A killing strike aimed at him.
At this distance—
There was no time to locate and dodge.
Realizing that, Gin's eyes went eerily calm.
He closed them.
The next instant, an invisible ripple spread outward.
The world changed.
All physical senses shut down.
Only perception remained.
No wind.
No insects.
No breath.
No heartbeat.
The world was dead still.
As if time itself had paused.
And then—
He saw it.
A kunai behind him, wrapped in razor-sharp airflow.
Wind Release: Vacuum Blade—a high-level wind technique combining shape and nature transformation, turning chakra into a blade of extreme sharpness.
The assassin had refined it to perfection—so fast that even Guy hadn't reacted.
Yet to Gin's intuition, the kunai moved as if dragging an endless thread, advancing in slow motion.
He didn't turn.
His hand rose, fingers spread like a crane's unfurling wing, knuckles calloused from years of training.
He caught the kunai by the hilt.
Wind blades tore into his palm—
Then stopped.
As if striking an invisible wall.
Gin opened his eyes.
Calm, snow-clear pupils reflected Guy's tense expression—and the fragmented forest beyond.
No courtesy in receiving without returning.
"Then… take it back."
He turned and hurled the kunai.
His movement was like wind scattering leaves—robes flaring, spine arching like a drawn bow as he unleashed his full power.
WHOOOM—!
The air screamed.
Falling leaves were shredded instantly; the forest floor was swept into a spiraling gale.
Almost at the same moment—
A distant sound answered.
Thud.
Steel biting into flesh.
(End of Chapter)