Kakashi returned to the ruins of the Hokage Building with prisoners in tow. Sasuke flanked his left side, Sharingan still active and tracking every movement. Orochimaru drifted behind them like a ghost, his current vessel's elaborate kimono somehow still pristine despite the chaos.
The prisoners numbered perhaps twenty. Men and women, old and young, all wearing the dazed expressions of people whose world had just collapsed. They stumbled more than walked, their faces grey with shock and dust, their eyes hollow.
Members of the Sarutobi clan, mostly. A few advisors' assistants. Some administrative staff who'd been too closely aligned with Hiruzen's faction to claim neutrality. Not dangerous, exactly. But potentially problematic if left unsupervised.
"Line them up here," Kakashi directed, indicating a clear space near the rubble. "Zabuza, Haku, I need you to watch them."
Zabuza Momochi straightened from where he'd been leaning against a broken pillar. The former missing-nin's expression was unreadable behind his bandages, but his posture suggested boredom rather than concern. "You want me to babysit prisoners now? What happened to my dignity?"
"You lost your dignity when you got beaten by Sasuke," Haku said mildly, adjusting his clothing. "Multiple times."
Zabuza's eye twitched. "That's different. That was—those were special circumstances."
"Sure they were," Haku agreed, his tone making it clear he didn't agree at all. He turned to Kakashi and bowed slightly. "We'll watch them, Kakashi-san. No one will escape."
Kakashi nodded his thanks. The strange duo had proven surprisingly reliable since joining Naruto's operation. Zabuza's pragmatism and Haku's competence made them valuable, even if their integration into Konoha's power structure was going to be complicated to explain.
Future Naruto's problem, Kakashi thought. If he becomes Hokage, he can figure out what to do with former enemy shinobi who are now employees.
The prisoners settled into nervous clusters, whispering to each other in voices too low to make out clearly. Kakashi turned away, satisfied they were secure.
Then a child's voice shattered the relative quiet.
"Grandpa!"
The cry was high-pitched and desperate. A small form broke from the prisoner group, evading Zabuza's grab with the slippery unpredictability of a panicked child. The boy couldn't have been more than eight years old, wearing a too-long blue scarf and a helmet-like hat with goggles.
Konohamaru Sarutobi ran with the single-minded determination only children possessed, his short legs pumping, his breath coming in gasping sobs. He ran toward the cleared area where they'd laid out Hiruzen's body.
And then he saw what was left of his grandfather.
The child skidded to a stop. His momentum carried him forward until he collapsed to his knees beside the corpse, his small hands landing in the dust.
"Grandpa," Konohamaru whispered. Then, louder: "Grandpa!"
Hiruzen's body lay in pieces. Kakashi and Orochimaru had done their best to arrange the remains respectfully, but there was only so much you could do when someone had been obliterated by overwhelming force. The Third Hokage's face was intact at least, his eyes closed, his expression almost peaceful if you didn't look at the rest.
Konohamaru grabbed for his grandfather's hand, that desperate need to touch, to hold, to somehow make it not real through physical contact.
The arm came loose.
The joints had been damaged too severely to hold. Konohamaru's desperate pulling separated the limb from the body, and suddenly the boy was holding his grandfather's severed arm, the hand cold and stiff.
For a heartbeat, Konohamaru just stared at the arm in his hands. Processing. Understanding that this was real. That Grandpa was dead. That he was holding a piece of a corpse.
Then he started to cry.
Not the theatrical crying of a child throwing a tantrum. The deep, shaking sobs of genuine grief, the kind that came from somewhere primal and uncontrollable. Tears poured down his face. Snot ran from his nose. His whole small body shook with the force of his anguish.
"Grandpa!" He clutched the arm to his chest, rocking back and forth. "Grandpa, wake up! Please wake up! I'm sorry! Whatever I did wrong, I'm sorry! Just wake up!"
The sound carried across the ruins, making everyone uncomfortable in the particular way that a child's grief always did. Zabuza shifted his weight, looking anywhere but at the sobbing boy. Haku's expression softened with sympathy.
"Should I grab the kid?" Zabuza asked Kakashi, his voice lower than usual. Even he wasn't heartless enough to be casual about this.
Kakashi shook his head. "Let him cry. Just don't let him leave. And..." He paused, looking at the scattered remains. "We'll need to put the body back together properly before the funeral."
"Understood." Haku moved closer to Konohamaru, positioning himself a respectful distance away. Close enough to intervene if needed. Far enough to give the child space to grieve.
Konohamaru didn't seem to notice. He just kept rocking, kept crying, kept holding onto his grandfather's arm like it was the only real thing left in the world.
This is what war looks like, Kakashi thought, watching the boy. Not the glorious battles or the strategic victories. This. Children crying over the pieces of their dead.
"Kakashi!"
The new voice cut through his thoughts. Kakashi turned to find Hyūga Hiashi approaching, flanked by the other clan heads. Their expressions were serious, purposeful.
"Hiashi-sama," Kakashi acknowledged. "What can I do for you?"
"We're gathering to discuss... the situation," Hiashi said carefully. "Your presence would be valuable."
It wasn't a request. Kakashi could read that clearly enough.
"Where?"
"The teahouse on the corner. It's intact, and private enough for what needs to be discussed."
Kakashi glanced back at the prisoners, at Konohamaru's small form still sobbing over his grandfather's body, at the ruins of Konoha's government center. Everything was falling apart, and somewhere in the chaos, decisions were being made that would shape the village's future.
"Lead the way," Kakashi said.
The teahouse was one of those old establishments that had served Konoha for generations. The kind of place where ANBU operatives met informants, where chunin celebrated promotions, where jonin commanders sometimes held unofficial briefings over sake.
Today it was hosting something far more significant.
Hiashi had commandeered the largest private room. Tatami mats covered the floor, and low tables had been arranged in a rough circle. The clan heads filed in with practiced efficiency: Hiashi Hyūga, Nara Shikaku, Akimichi Chōza, Yamanaka Inoichi, Aburame Shibi, Inuzuka Tsume. The most powerful civilian clan leaders in Konoha, all gathered in one room.
Kakashi settled near the entrance, positioning himself where he could observe everyone. This wasn't his meeting. He was here as a witness, or possibly as a moderator if things got heated.
Might Guy entered next, his usual enthusiasm muted but still present. He found a spot near Kakashi, sitting with the careful posture of someone trying very hard to think seriously about serious things.
Mitarai Anko slipped in last, her purple hair unmistakable. She caught Kakashi's eye and shrugged, the gesture saying might as well see where this goes.
Tea appeared, served by an elderly woman who'd probably been working here since before most of the current shinobi were born. She poured with practiced efficiency, then vanished without a word. Smart woman. She knew when to make herself scarce.
Steam rose from the cups. No one drank.
Silence settled over the room like snow, heavy and expectant. The clan heads studied each other, reading postures and expressions with the precision of people who'd spent lifetimes navigating political waters.
Finally, Hiashi broke the silence.
"Sarutobi Hiruzen is dead," he said, his voice carrying perfect neutrality. "Konoha cannot function without a Hokage. This meeting's purpose is simple: recommend the next candidate for Fifth Hokage."
He paused, letting the words settle. "Does anyone have nominations?"
Might Guy's hand shot up before anyone else could speak. "I nominate Tsunade-sama!"
The suggestion rippled through the room. Heads nodded. Expressions shifted from neutral to considering.
"Tsunade," Shikaku murmured, testing the name. "The Slug Princess. One of the Legendary Sannin. Granddaughter of the First Hokage."
"She has the bloodline," Inoichi added. "The strength. The experience."
"And she disappeared years ago," Shibi said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper but cutting through the discussion. "After Hiruzen took the Hokage position following the Fourth's death. No one knows where she is."
All eyes turned to Guy.
"Well," Guy said, his enthusiasm faltering under the weight of their stares. "That's... that's true. I don't actually know where Tsunade-sama is."
"Can anyone here find her?" Hiashi asked the room at large.
Silence.
"Then we need alternative candidates," Hiashi said, his tone making it clear this had been expected. "Shikaku, you look like you have thoughts."
Nara Shikaku set down his teacup with careful precision. He'd been waiting for this moment, Kakashi realized. This entire meeting had been choreographed.
"I do have a candidate," Shikaku said, rising to his feet. His shadow seemed to lengthen in the lamplight. "Someone with strength sufficient not just to hold the position, but to actively deter foreign aggression. Someone whose very existence would make other villages think twice about testing Konoha's boundaries."
"That's quite a claim," Chōza rumbled. "Who is this paragon?"
Shikaku's eyes swept across the room, marking each face, ensuring he had everyone's attention.
"Uzumaki Naruto."
The name detonated like an explosive tag.
"What?!" Guy shot to his feet. "But he's—he's twelve years old!"
"He killed the Third Hokage," Anko said, though her tone was more observational than condemning. "That's going to be a hard sell to the village."
Even Kakashi felt shock ripple through him, though he was careful to keep it off his face. Naruto as Hokage. Naruto, who'd just publicly executed the previous Hokage. Naruto, who was barely old enough to be a genin by normal standards.
But, Kakashi thought, watching the clan heads' faces, they're not surprised. They already decided this.
The realization clicked into place. This meeting wasn't about deciding Konoha's next leader. It was about making that decision appear legitimate. Making it seem like a council decision rather than a backroom deal.
"Age is irrelevant," Inoichi said, his voice carrying the weight of certainty. "Strength matters. Capability matters. Naruto has both."
"And loyalty," Tsume added, her sharp features animated. "My son is Naruto's friend. Naruto values his friends. He protects them."
"My son Shikamaru manages his farm," Shikaku continued. "Successfully, I might add. Naruto trusts our children. He's built relationships with the next generation of every clan in this room."
Kakashi understood now. They were stacking the deck. Making it clear that Naruto wasn't just powerful, he was connected. Bound to their clans through friendship, through trust, through the relationships he'd built over the past year.
And if Naruto becomes Hokage, Kakashi thought, these clans become untouchable. They're his friends' families. He'll protect them. Support them. Everything Hiruzen threatened to take away, Naruto will guarantee.
It was brilliant, in a ruthlessly pragmatic way.
"What about the civilians?" Guy asked, still on his feet. "The ordinary villagers? They've lived under Hiruzen for decades. They're going to see Naruto as a murderer, not a savior."
"Then we'll educate them," Shibi said softly. "Explain the circumstances. Reveal Hiruzen's crimes. Public opinion can be shaped."
"And if they don't accept it?" Guy pressed.
Shikaku's smile was cold. "Then Naruto makes friends with them. Once he does, they won't object."
The words hung in the air, and Kakashi felt a chill run down his spine. He'd been through Naruto's "friendship process." Knew exactly what it entailed.
They're planning to have Naruto beat the village into submission if necessary, Kakashi realized. Not kill them. Just... convince them. Thoroughly.
It was horrifying. It was pragmatic. And knowing Naruto, he'd probably do it without even being asked, just because he genuinely wanted everyone to be his friend.
"Let's vote," Hiashi said, cutting through the discussion with practiced authority. "All in favor of recommending Uzumaki Naruto as candidate for Fifth Hokage, raise your hand."
The clan heads' hands went up simultaneously. Hiashi. Shikaku. Chōza. Inoichi. Shibi. Tsume. Like they'd practiced the motion.
Kakashi raised his hand after a moment's hesitation. Minato-sensei, your son is about to become Hokage. I hope you're proud. Or horrified. Possibly both.
Anko's hand went up. "Why not? Can't be worse than what we had."
All eyes turned to Guy.
The taijutsu specialist stood rigid, his face working through complicated emotions. Loyalty to the old system warred with recognition of new reality. Finally, slowly, his hand rose.
"But someone needs to guide him," Guy said firmly. "He's young. Strong, yes. But young. He'll need advisors. People who can help him govern."
"Agreed," Hiashi said. "Which is why we're all here. When Naruto returns, Kakashi will speak with him. Gauge his interest. If he accepts, we'll support his succession. If he refuses..." Hiashi paused. "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it."
"Speaking of Naruto," Shibi said, his insects buzzing softly inside his coat, "where is he?"
"He went after Danzo," Kakashi said.
The room went very quiet.
"Ah," Shikaku said finally. "Well. That problem will likely resolve itself then."
"Danzo," Hiashi murmured, tasting the name. "And Hiruzen. Both Hokage candidates from Tobirama's generation, both dead on the same day."
His eyes swept the room. "We'll need to control the narrative carefully. Frame this as clearing out corruption rather than a violent coup. Emphasize Naruto's lineage. His father's legacy. Make him seem like the natural successor rather than a revolutionary."
"And if people don't believe it?" Anko asked.
Shikaku's smile returned. "Then we remind them that the person who killed the Third Hokage and Danzo in a single day is now their leader. And suggest, politely, that cooperation is in everyone's best interest."
The threat was unspoken but crystal clear.
Kakashi felt something settle in his chest. This was really happening. Konoha was about to crown a twelve-year-old jinchūriki as its next Hokage, not through tradition or appointment, but through a combination of overwhelming force and carefully orchestrated political maneuvering.
Minato-sensei, Kakashi thought, your son is about to inherit everything you died to protect. I just hope he's ready for it.