The meeting dissolved like mist under morning sun. Clan heads rose from their positions on the tatami mats, conversations fragmenting into smaller groups, alliances being quietly reinforced through shared glances and subtle nods.
Nara Shikaku caught Might Guy's troubled expression across the room and dismissed it with barely a thought. A taijutsu specialist worried about politics is like a fish concerned about mountain climbing. Well-meaning but fundamentally misunderstanding the terrain.
Guy would follow orders. He always did. His concerns about Naruto's age and inexperience were touching in their naivety, but ultimately irrelevant. The decision had been made. The pieces were in motion.
Shikaku intercepted Kakashi near the door, his movements casual but purposeful. "Kakashi, a word."
The Copy Ninja turned, his visible eye attentive despite the exhaustion that was surely creeping into his bones. The man had been beaten, hospitalized, and was now neck-deep in political maneuvering that would reshape Konoha's power structure. Most jonin would have collapsed by now.
"I know what you're thinking," Shikaku said, keeping his voice low enough that only Kakashi could hear. "You're worried about the village's reaction. About whether this will work. About whether we're making a terrible mistake."
Kakashi's eye crinkled slightly, acknowledgment without confirmation.
"Don't worry," Shikaku continued, his tone carrying absolute certainty. "I'll help Naruto handle the transition. Smooth out the rough edges. Manage the narrative." He paused, then added with dry humor, "And honestly, even if I don't intervene, Naruto will settle things himself. In his own... distinctive way."
That got a visible reaction. Kakashi's shoulders shifted, tension releasing fractionally. "You're confident he can handle it."
"I'm confident that between my strategic planning and Naruto's capacity for making friends," Shikaku said, loading that last word with significance, "opposition will be minimal. And brief."
Kakashi nodded slowly. The Nara clan's reputation wasn't built on empty boasts. They'd served as strategic advisors to Konoha's leadership for generations, the only civilian clan granted access to the Fire Country's internal political mechanisms. If Shikaku said he could manage this, he probably could.
"Your most important task," Shikaku said, his voice taking on a more serious edge, "is persuading Naruto to accept the position. If he refuses..." The strategist's face showed rare uncertainty. "If he genuinely refuses, then we'll have to pivot. Send someone to track down Tsunade, probably. But that's a backup plan I'd rather not use."
"Tsunade-sama hasn't been seen in years," Kakashi pointed out. "Finding her could take months. Maybe longer."
"Exactly. Which is why you need to convince Naruto." Shikaku's gaze sharpened. "This needs to happen quickly, before other villages smell blood in the water. Before internal opposition can organize. Speed is essential."
"I understand." Kakashi's mind was already working through approaches. How did you convince a twelve-year-old to become Hokage? Especially one who'd just killed the previous Hokage in front of the entire village?
Minato-sensei, Kakashi thought, your son is going to need a lot of guidance. I hope I'm up to this.
"One more thing," Shikaku said, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. "Danzo is almost certainly dead by now. Naruto went after him, and..." He trailed off, the conclusion obvious.
Kakashi felt something cold settle in his stomach. Danzo had been a fixture in Konoha's power structure for decades. A shadow behind the throne, manipulating and scheming, but undeniably powerful. And now he was just... gone. Erased in a single afternoon.
"The old guard is dead," Shikaku said quietly. "Hiruzen. Danzo. The advisors. All the power that ruled this village for the last thirty years, gone in hours. What comes next will define Konoha for the next generation."
He met Kakashi's eye directly. "Make sure Naruto understands what we're offering him. And what we're asking of him."
With that, Shikaku turned and walked away, his shadow long in the afternoon light filtering through the teahouse windows.
Across the room, Hyūga Hiashi watched Shikaku's conversation with Kakashi with satisfaction. The Nara head was already working the angles, smoothing potential problems before they could develop. Good. This transition needed to go cleanly.
Shikaku approached, and Hiashi allowed himself a small smile. "That went well."
"Better than expected," Shikaku agreed. "Though Chōza still doesn't fully grasp the implications."
As if summoned by his name, Akimichi Chōza appeared beside them, his massive frame making both strategists look small by comparison. His face carried the confused expression of someone who'd just witnessed a conversation in a language he didn't quite speak.
"Hiruzen and Danzo's crimes," Hiashi said, picking up a thread Shikaku had started earlier. "We don't know the full extent. We know about the jinchūriki situation, about Naruto's childhood isolation. But there's more. There has to be."
"I've already sent people to investigate," Shikaku said, his voice carrying the satisfaction of someone who'd anticipated this need. "Every crime, every scandal, every questionable decision. We'll compile everything Sarutobi Hiruzen and Shimura Danzo did during their tenure. Create a comprehensive record."
Hiashi nodded approvingly. "And then?"
"Then we use it strategically," Shikaku said. His eyes gleamed with the particular pleasure a strategist felt when pieces fell into place. "But we need to be careful. Announcing all of Hiruzen's crimes publicly would damage Konoha's reputation. Make us look weak, unstable."
"So we pin everything on Danzo," Hiashi said, following the logic instantly. "Danzo was the shadow. The manipulator. The one who operated outside official channels. We let him take the blame for everything."
"Exactly." Shikaku's smile was sharp. "Hiruzen becomes a tragic figure. A good Hokage who was manipulated by his corrupt advisor. He died protecting Konoha from Danzo's schemes. Honorable to the end."
"But Naruto killed Hiruzen," Chōza said, his confusion evident. "We all saw it. Everyone in the village saw it."
Both Hiashi and Shikaku turned to stare at him, their expressions identical masks of patient correction.
"No," Shikaku said slowly, as if speaking to a child. "Danzo killed Sarutobi Hiruzen. Remember that, Chōza. It's important."
"That's right," Hiashi added, his voice carrying weight. "Danzo was responsible for the Third Hokage's death. That's the official story. That's what we'll tell the village. That's what we'll tell history."
Chōza looked between them, understanding slowly dawning. "Oh. Oh! I see. Danzo killed Hiruzen. Right. Yes. I understand now."
His face still suggested he didn't, not fully, but he nodded with the determination of someone committed to remembering his lines even if he didn't understand the play.
"The question," Hiashi said, "is whether Naruto will agree to this narrative. He killed Hiruzen in front of everyone. Announcing that someone else was responsible might seem like we're asking him to hide his accomplishment."
"We'll explain the political necessity," Shikaku said. "Naruto's practical. He'll understand that preserving Konoha's reputation serves everyone's interests, including his own."
Hiashi looked thoughtful. "And if he refuses? If he insists on claiming responsibility publicly?"
Shikaku's expression didn't change, but something cold flickered in his eyes. "Then we announce the truth. Naruto killed the Third Hokage. The village will be shocked. There will be resistance, complaints, maybe even some minor uprisings."
He paused, letting the implications settle.
"And then Naruto will visit those who resist. He'll make friends with them. And after that..." Shikaku's smile returned. "There won't be any more objections. This ninja world operates on strength, Hiashi. Always has. Naruto has demonstrated overwhelming strength. Once people understand that reality, opposition will evaporate."
"Still," Hiashi said, "letting Danzo take the blame feels... satisfying."
"Doesn't it?" Shikaku's eyes gleamed with vindictive pleasure. "The man spent decades manipulating, scheming, destroying anyone who threatened his vision of Konoha. Now he gets to be the scapegoat for an entire regime's crimes. There's a certain poetry to it."
Chōza listened to this exchange, his confusion deepening rather than clearing. Hadn't they just said Danzo killed Hiruzen? Now they were talking about Naruto killing Hiruzen? Which was it?
He decided not to ask. His friends were clearly operating on a level of political strategy that exceeded his understanding. Better to just nod and follow their lead.
I'll just tell people whatever Shikaku tells me to say, Chōza decided. That seems safest.
The afternoon was fading toward evening when Naruto returned.
The ruins of the Hokage Building cast long shadows across the gathering crowd. People had started to drift away, conversations fragmenting as the immediate shock began wearing off. But the clan heads remained, waiting, and they all turned as one when Naruto's form appeared in the sky.
He descended slowly, his feet finding earth with barely a whisper of sound. In his arms, wrapped in clean white cloth, he carried two bundles.
Everyone who saw them knew what they were.
Remains.
Naruto's face was carefully neutral, but Kakashi—who'd known Minato, who'd failed to protect his sensei's son—could see the tension in Naruto's jaw, the way his hands gripped the bundles with reverent care.
Hiashi stepped forward, and the other clan heads followed his lead, forming a loose circle around Naruto. Not threatening. Respectful. Witnessing.
"Your parents," Hiashi said quietly. It wasn't a question.
"Yes." Naruto's voice was steady, but something raw lurked beneath. "Danzo kept them. In his laboratory. Like specimens."
Fury rippled through the gathered clan heads. Not performative anger for show, but genuine outrage. They'd all known Minato Namikaze. Had respected him. Many had fought alongside the Yellow Flash during the Third War.
To learn his body had been defiled, kept for experimentation...
"Danzo?" Kakashi asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Dead." Naruto said it simply, without elaboration or satisfaction. Just fact. "The Root base is destroyed. Everything he built, everything he collected—burned."
Kakashi's visible eye flickered with complex emotion. "They deserved better."
"They did," Naruto agreed. He looked down at the bundles in his arms. "They deserve a proper burial. Rest. Peace."
Hinata stood near the back of the crowd, her white eyes tracking Naruto's every movement. Her hands twisted together, wanting to approach, wanting to offer comfort, but uncertain if this was the right moment.
Kakashi approached Naruto, his movements careful, non-threatening. "Naruto, the people we detained—Sarutobi's relatives, some of the advisors' family members—what should we do with them?"
Naruto's eyes swept across the prisoners still huddled under Zabuza and Haku's watch. Twenty-some people, their faces grey with shock and dust, their expressions ranging from terror to hatred.
When Naruto's gaze landed on them, several flinched.
"Sarutobi Hiruzen is dead," Naruto said, his voice carrying clearly across the ruins. "Shimura Danzo is dead. Koharu and Homura are dead. I killed them all. With my own hands."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"If you want revenge, you're welcome to try. I'll be at my farm. Come find me whenever you're ready."
The prisoners stared at him, and Naruto stared back, his expression utterly calm. No threat in his posture. No aggression. Just absolute confidence that if they came for him, the outcome was already decided.
"Kakashi-sensei," Naruto said, turning away from the prisoners. "Let them go."
Kakashi felt relief wash through him. He'd been genuinely worried Naruto might order executions. Mass killings to eliminate anyone who might seek revenge. Instead, Naruto was showing mercy tempered with strength.
Minato-sensei would be proud, Kakashi thought. Your son knows when to be merciful and when to be firm.
"Zabuza, Haku," Kakashi called. "Release them."
The former Kirigakure missing-nin stepped aside, clearing the path. Zabuza's expression was unreadable behind his bandages, but his posture suggested approval. Strength combined with mercy was something he could respect.
"You're free to go," Haku said gently, his soft voice somehow carrying authority despite its kindness.
The prisoners began shuffling away, moving in small clusters, throwing fearful glances back at Naruto. None of them looked like they were seriously considering revenge. Not now. Possibly not ever.
But one small form didn't move.
Konohamaru Sarutobi stood over his grandfather's reassembled body, a wooden training sword clutched in both hands. The weapon trembled, not from fear but from the intensity of emotion coursing through his small frame.
Tears still leaked from his eyes, but his jaw was set, his stance—however awkward—planted firm.
"I'm going to kill you," Konohamaru said, his child's voice cracking. "I'm going to kill you!"
He charged.
Eight years old, barely four feet tall, carrying a wooden sword, charging at someone who'd just killed the Third Hokage, two advisors, and the head of Root in a single afternoon.
It would have been funny if it weren't so heartbreaking.
Konohamaru thrust the wooden sword at Naruto's leg with all his strength. The point struck Naruto's shin.
CRACK.
The wooden sword exploded into splinters.
Konohamaru stared at the broken weapon in his hands, shock replacing fury for a moment. Then he looked up at Naruto, and the hatred returned, hot and undiluted.
Naruto took a single step forward.
The movement was small, barely a shift in weight, but something in it—some quality of controlled violence, some glimpse of the power that churned beneath Naruto's calm exterior—hit Konohamaru like a physical wave.
The boy stumbled backward, his courage evaporating under the weight of genuine danger. His feet tangled. He fell, landing hard on his rear in the dust.
Naruto looked down at him, and when he spoke, his voice was neither cruel nor kind. Just honest.
"Too weak," Naruto said. "If you really want revenge, then get stronger. Train. Grow. Become powerful enough that when you come for me, I'll actually have to pay attention."
He held the child's gaze for a moment longer, then turned away, dismissing him as thoroughly as if Konohamaru had ceased to exist.
"Sasuke, Kurama," Naruto called. "Let's go home."
Sasuke appeared beside him instantly, his Sharingan deactivating as the tension left his frame. Kurama hopped onto Naruto's shoulder, the miniaturized Nine-Tails still wearing his white lace dress, somehow maintaining dignity despite the outfit.
"Mm," Sasuke and Kurama both acknowledged, their voices carrying identical weight.
Orochimaru emerged from the shadows where he'd been observing. Zabuza and Haku fell into step behind them. The strange group—jinchūriki, Uchiha, tailed beast, Sannin, and missing-nin—walked away from the ruins together, an alliance that would have been unthinkable days ago.
"Naruto-kun," Hinata whispered, watching them go. Her hands pressed against her chest, feeling her heart hammer. She wanted to run after him, to offer comfort, to do something.
But this wasn't the moment. She understood that instinctively.
Kakashi jogged to catch up, falling into step beside Naruto. "I'm coming with you. There are things we need to discuss."
Naruto glanced at him, then nodded once. "Alright."
The farm spread across Konoha's back mountain like a small kingdom. Wooden fences marked boundaries. Cattle grazed in distant pastures. The scent of earth and growing things mixed with the sharper smell of Nine-Tails' cooking drifting from the cabin.
Naruto walked past all of it, heading deeper into the forested section. He knew exactly where he wanted to lay his parents to rest.
A clearing on the mountain's slope, where morning sunlight would reach first. Where a small stream burbled over smooth stones. Where cherry trees grew wild, their branches spreading wide enough to provide shade in summer.
Beautiful. Peaceful. Alive.
Naruto knelt and began to dig.
His hands moved through earth and stone with the ease of someone whose physical strength had transcended normal human limitations. He didn't need tools. His fingers were enough, scooping out soil, shaping the space with precision.
Sasuke stood guard nearby, scanning for threats that wouldn't come. Kurama directed the placement with small gestures, ensuring the orientation was correct, that the graves would receive proper sunlight, that everything was done with appropriate respect.
When the graves were ready—deep enough to protect, shallow enough that Naruto could visit easily—Naruto lowered his parents' remains with infinite care.
He stood there for a long moment, looking down at the white-wrapped bundles that represented everything he'd never known. The mother who'd loved him enough to become a jinchūriki to save the village. The father who'd died sealing the Nine-Tails to protect everyone.
"I'm sorry," Naruto said quietly. "I'm sorry it took so long. I'm sorry you had to stay in that place."
Silence answered him, broken only by wind through cherry branches and the distant lowing of cattle.
"But you're home now," Naruto continued. "And when I achieve immortality, when I master the final techniques the System teaches me, I'll bring you back. I promise."
He began covering the graves, his movements methodical, each handful of earth placed with care. Sasuke joined him, wordlessly helping. Even Kurama contributed, using chakra to shape the soil, to ensure the mounds were perfect.
When it was finished, Naruto stood, brushing dirt from his hands.
Sasuke looked at him, his expression unusually soft. "Naruto, I'm sorry I couldn't help with this. Your enemies were mine too. I should have—"
"Don't," Naruto interrupted, turning to face his best friend. "Don't apologize, Sasuke. Your enemies are my enemies. My enemies are yours. That's what friendship means."
He met Sasuke's eyes directly. "And we still have one more enemy. The masked man. The one who controlled Kurama, who caused all of this. When we find him, we'll kill him together."
Understanding passed between them, that wordless communication that came from years of training, fighting, and living together.
"Together," Sasuke agreed.
They stood in silence for another moment, paying respects, before turning back toward the cabin.
Kakashi had waited at a respectful distance, giving them privacy. Now he approached, his visible eye serious.
"Naruto," Kakashi said. "The clan heads held a meeting. They want to recommend you as the Fifth Hokage."
Naruto stopped walking. "Hokage?"
The word hung in the air, loaded with weight and history and expectation.
"You'd be the youngest ever," Kakashi continued. "Younger than any Kage in history, probably. But after today, after what you've done, your strength is undeniable. The major clans are all in agreement. They want you to lead."
Naruto considered this, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he nodded.
"I'm better suited than Sarutobi Hiruzen was," Naruto said with absolute confidence. "Stronger. More capable. I agree to succeed him as Hokage."
Kakashi felt relief, but it was tempered by concern. "The clan heads support you. Your friends support you. But Naruto, the civilians—the ordinary villagers—they might object. They've lived under Hiruzen for decades. They watched you kill him. There could be resistance."
Naruto's smile was sudden and bright, all his teeth showing.
"Kakashi-sensei, don't worry about that at all," Naruto said cheerfully. "Please gather all the villagers together tomorrow. In the Academy training grounds, maybe, or somewhere everyone can fit."
He spread his arms wide, his enthusiasm building. "I want to make friends with them! All of them! As many as possible!"
His eyes gleamed with genuine excitement. "And once I become friends with them, once we go through the process together, they won't object to anything. They'll support me completely!"
Understanding crashed over Kakashi like a cold wave.
Oh. Oh no.
This is what Shikaku meant. This is how Naruto will "handle" civilian resistance.
He's going to beat the entire village into friendship.
Kakashi's mind flashed to his own friendship process. The broken fingers. The dislocated shoulders. The medical bills that had bankrupted him. Multiply that by several thousand villagers.
"Naruto," Kakashi said carefully. "When you say 'make friends'—"
"The usual process!" Naruto said happily. "Ten minutes each for most people. Maybe fifteen for anyone who's particularly resistant. We can organize them into groups for efficiency. With Multiple Shadow Clone Technique, I can probably befriend everyone in Konoha in a single day!"
His enthusiasm was genuine, his smile warm. He clearly thought this was an excellent plan.
He's going to hospitalize half the village, Kakashi thought faintly. And he thinks he's doing them a favor.
But Shikaku had been right. This would work. Terrifying and brutal, but effective. After going through Naruto's friendship process, opposition would evaporate. Not because people were scared—though they would be—but because that's how the process functioned. Pain followed by genuine care created loyalty that propaganda could never match.
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