The Hokage’s door rattled under three sharp knocks.
Hiruzen Sarutobi paused, his hand on the clasp of his combat vest.
The campaign speech waited on his tongue.
“Enter.”
The ANBU materialized inside the office, a swirl of leaves and urgency.
“Hokage-sama.
Lady Mito is approaching the muster point.
She is holding the hand of the Uchiha boy, Ren.”
Hiruzen’s breath caught.
He crossed to the window in two strides.
Down below, where three thousand shinobi stood in formation like rows of stone, two figures moved against the tide.
A woman, posture straight as a spear, and a dark-haired boy.
Their joined hands were a white flag and a declaration of war, all at once.
“Fetch Danzo and the elders.
Now.”
He was down the stairs before the ANBU vanished, the polished wood creaking under his hurried steps.
The assembled army—Uchiha, Hyuga, the whole vanguard—stirred at his undignified haste.
Clan heads exchanged glances, eyebrows climbing.
Then they saw her.
Knees hit the dirt in a wave, a sound like a sudden downpour on dry earth.
Three thousand shinobi bowed, heads lowered.
Hiruzen reached the bottom step and offered his own deep, formal bow—the Hokage’s concession to a living monument.
Mito Uzumaki’s smile was summer warmth.
Her gaze swept the field, the elders, and finally settled on Hiruzen.
“Third Hokage.
Do not trouble yourself on my account.
I am merely escorting a junior.
This is Uchiha Ren, a close companion to my granddaughter.”
Senju.
Uchiha.
The combination was a chemical reaction in Hiruzen’s mind, fizzing with dangerous possibilities.
He kept his face a mask of respectful attention.
“I would not dare stand on ceremony, Lady Mito.
You may always call me Saru.” He bowed again, lower this time.
“The army awaits your word to depart.”
The challenge was quiet, perfectly veiled.
He was the Hokage now.
Let her overrule him, and his authority would bleed out here on the parade ground.
Mito studied him, the smile not fading but changing—the difference between sunlight and a candle’s glow.
The boy he remembered was gone, replaced by a man who measured every breath for its political weight. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
How tedious.
“Then I shall call you Saru,” she said, her voice clear and carrying.
“But you are Hokage.
The war declaration is yours to give.
I claim no such right.” She gave Ren’s hand a slight squeeze.
“I am merely an old woman seeing a child off to his first campaign.
You will grant him the time to find his footing, won’t you?”
A flicker in Hiruzen’s eyes—surprise, then swift calculation.
He looked at Ren, really looked at him, and saw not a boy but a piece suddenly placed on the board.
He stepped forward, clapped a heavy, avuncular hand on Ren’s shoulder.
The grip was just shy of painful.
“Of course.
Any protégé of Lady Tsunade is a friend to Konoha.
He will have every opportunity.”
He turned, his voice shifting from intimate to thunderous.
“Tsunade!”
She was already moving.
“Sensei!”
“Ren is your responsibility.
See him settled.” As Tsunade led Ren away, Hiruzen faced his army, the mantle of leadership settling on his shoulders.
The scent of wet earth and nervous sweat rose from the crowd.
“Konoha’s blades!” he roared.
“Hanzo of the Salamander believes our borders are a suggestion!
He believes our will can be broken!”
A growl rippled through the ranks.
“Do we let this insult stand?”
“NO!”
“Do we fight, so that those we love may sleep in peace?”
“YES!”
The roar shook the leaves from the nearby trees.
Hiruzen’s arm swept out, a cleaving motion.
“Then march!
Our target: the Land of Rain!”
The chant began, boots stamping in unison as the first columns turned.
March!
Target: Land of Rain!
Hiruzen watched them go, the future and his legacy walking away down the road.
The elders’ advice echoed in his skull—stay, be the symbol, let others bleed—but he had already decided.
He would follow with the main force.
A Kage could not win his throne from a desk.
The square emptied, leaving only the dust and the two of them.
Hiruzen turned and knelt again before Mito, his forehead nearly touching the ground. The source of this chapter is novelping.com.
“My deepest apologies for the earlier necessity, Lady Mito.
The performance was for the army.”
“It was the correct performance, Saru.
You did well.” Her tone held a mother’s approval, which made the knife in it all the sharper.
“You are gracious.” He rose, his voice flat, but a triumph hummed beneath his skin.
He had faced down the First Hokage’s wife and kept his crown.
Mito watched that triumph flicker behind his eyes.
She reached out, not to strike, but to adjust the collar of his robe, a startlingly intimate gesture.
Her fingers were cool.
“Now, I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything.” He bowed instantly, the good soldier.
“I am lonely for my own blood.
The whirlpools of Uzushiogakure feel very far away.
I would have an envoy bring some of my family to Konoha.
For a visit.”
Hiruzen’s jaw tightened.
Bringing foreign shinobi, even allies, into the village on the eve of war?
It was a security nightmare wrapped in a sentimental request.
But he saw the steel in her gentle smile.
This was not a request.
“Your protection of Konoha as the Nine-Tails’ Jinchuriki is our fortress, Lady Mito.
Of course your family is welcome.” He paused, the strategist in him racing ahead.
“Shall I dispatch Sakumo Hatake and Torifu Akimichi?
With a guard of five hundred?”
Mito’s smile became real, a crack of genuine light.
“You are a thoughtful Hokage, Saru.
Thank you.
You must visit the Senju compound.
Drink tea with an old woman and tell her of the world.”
The reward was delivered so casually it almost slipped past.
Hiruzen’s breath hitched.
Her public endorsement was one thing.
A private invitation was another—a signal to every clan that the Senju legacy, through Mito, stood firmly behind the Third Hokage.
His position, still shaky, solidified in that instant.
“The honor would be mine, Lady Mito.” He bowed, lower and longer than before.
“The honor is shared.” She turned to leave, then glanced back.
“Take care of my granddaughter’s friend, Saru.
The future often arrives in unexpected packages.”
She walked away, leaving Hiruzen Sarutobi standing alone in the empty square.
The taste of victory in his mouth was sweet, complex, and carried the faint, metallic aftertaste of a leash being clipped to his collar.