The uproar caused by Gojo Yoru lasted for more than half a month. Only after the tourists' excitement cooled did things finally return to normal.
During that time, the combat units and support units from the White Fang front and the Iwa front finished handing things over to Border Base. Aside from the troops left to guard the border, everyone else gradually returned home.
Then a grand, solemn burial ceremony began—one that everyone in Konoha, shinobi and civilians alike, was required to attend.
Everyone dressed in black, filed into the cemetery to lay flowers for the fallen, and observed a collective moment of silence.
Bodies sealed inside storage scrolls were brought out and laid to rest one by one.
On the massive memorial stone, names were carved line after line.
Some people broke down sobbing at familiar names. Others stared blankly, unreadable—no one knew what was going on inside their heads.
Gojo Yoru and Uzumaki Kushina attended too, but they didn't stand together.
Kushina—who still hadn't been to the front—stood far back.
Gojo Yoru, as one of the commanders and the greatest contributor of the Second Shinobi World War, stood in the front row with the Sannin and Konoha's White Fang.
Ahead of them stood Hiruzen Sarutobi and the Konoha elder council.
When Tsunade saw Nawaki's name, she didn't cry.
Her tears had already run dry last year.
Having inherited Nawaki's will, she was still trying to change the system—so the next generation wouldn't become the next Nawaki.
When the burial ended, it marked the true closing of the Second Shinobi World War.
Everyone had to step out of grief and continue living.
That night, at the izakaya the Sannin often frequented, the Sannin and Gojo Yoru gathered for a small drink.
Orochimaru and Jiraiya sat side by side. Across from them sat Yoru and Tsunade.
Even though Yoru stood a head taller than Tsunade—likely a full head within a year or two—sitting with the Sannin didn't look strange at all.
"Yoru—drink with me," Tsunade said, hooking an arm around his neck, her cheeks already flushed. "Let's celebrate your promotion to jōnin."
The Sannin all drank, but they rarely truly got drunk.
For Tsunade—who had mastered the Strength of a Hundred Seal—she could simply fine-tune her chakra and sober up instantly.
But she didn't.
Which meant her "strength" wasn't as unbreakable as it looked on the surface.
Neither Orochimaru nor Jiraiya stopped her from starting the night with hard drinking. This was the last release before turning the page.
But when Tsunade tried to drag Yoru into it too, Jiraiya hurriedly objected.
"Tsunade, did you forget the Three Shinobi Prohibitions? The kid isn't even twenty yet!"
"Jiraiya, I'm not drunk," Tsunade shot back flatly. "Hearing you, the village's resident peeping creep, talk about the Three Prohibitions is honestly impressive."
"Cough—cough—hey, there are kids here! What are you talking about? I have no idea what you mean!" Jiraiya blushed, still not quite as shameless as his later self.
"It's fine," Yoru said, pouring himself a cup and clinking it with Tsunade's. "A few cups won't matter."
This world's sake was about twelve percent—hardly enough to knock someone out. And if his tolerance didn't hold, he could always tweak his chakra and clear the buzz.
The Strength of a Hundred Seal was basically the shinobi world's ultimate drinking cheat.
Still, Yoru couldn't help thinking: geniuses graduate at five or six; even mediocre shinobi are killing on missions by twelve—yet alcohol is "twenty and up." A cross-dimensional drinking law was terrifying.
"That's more like it," Tsunade said, grinning wide. "Now—cheers!"
She drained her cup in one go, still looping an arm around Yoru's neck. Because of the height difference, Yoru's cheek ended up buried in a very unfair "pillow," and Jiraiya stared like his soul had left his body—instantly regretting sitting beside Orochimaru.
Tsunade complained as she drank: "You really hid it deep. Space-time bloodline—something that ridiculous—and you kept it buried for years. If I'd had that at your age, I would've leaked it in the Academy. Your body development and your maturity are miles ahead of your peers."
Yoru endured the "evil force" of Konoha's #1 capital for two seconds, then pried her arm off and sat up straight. He looked down at his cup and smiled.
"My first time meeting Orochimaru-sensei was outside the village—when I was training the Rasengan. He asked me back then why I didn't train inside the village, and why I insisted on doing it out in the wild."
Orochimaru's eyes softened with the old memory. "I remember your answer: A shinobi's battle is a battle of information. You said you didn't want anyone to know your trump cards. So you'd already awakened the space-time bloodline back then."
"Yeah," Yoru said quietly. "When the messenger brought news of my parents' deaths, he said they died because they ran into an enemy outside their intel. From that moment, I understood how deadly ignorance is."
"If Orochimaru-sensei hadn't found out by accident… and if I hadn't been forced into Ōnoki and the Five-Tails Jinchūriki's trap… I would've taken that secret to the grave. You'd only ever have known I 'developed' a destructive Storm Release: Black Lightning."
"You were right," Tsunade said, sighing with regret. "Power like that should either stay hidden forever—or be revealed only when your wings are fully grown."
The Sannin all agreed. Tsunade added bitterly, "If Rain hadn't had Hanzō—the pinnacle of the era—this war's fuse would've been lit by the other great nations instead. Maybe it would've broken out years later. By then, Yoru would've already grown up. Fire Country wouldn't have bled this much."
"We never know whether tomorrow or an accident arrives first," Orochimaru said softly—thinking of his own parents.
"Enough," Jiraiya said, lifting his cup to break the mood. "Drink."
The three clinked and drank.
With a last shred of clarity, Tsunade turned to Yoru with bleary eyes. "Oh—and don't move back. Keep living at my place. Sarutobi-sensei told me to teach you medical ninjutsu so you don't get poisoned to death."
Yoru frowned. "Learning is fine. Living there? That's… inconvenient."
"So you're saying you want to pay tuition?" Tsunade—drunk and loud—hooked him again.
"Don't think I don't know you cook for Kushina all the time. Now my house is just me. Either you cook for me as 'tuition'… or you call me Tsunade-sensei from now on, like you do Orochimaru."
"…Fine," Yoru said, choosing the first option. "I'll stay."
"Good boy," Tsunade said, satisfied. "Relax—I won't shortchange you."
Jiraiya shamelessly leaned in. "Tsunade, what if I move in and cook for you?"
"Get lost."
Even drunk, her answer was still brutally efficient.
By the time the izakaya emptied and the streets fell silent, their little gathering finally ended.
"Yoru, Tsunade's on you," Orochimaru said.
"Or I can escort her—heehee," Jiraiya offered.
"Stop," Orochimaru said, dragging him away.
At the doorway, they said their goodbyes.
"Orochimaru-sensei. Jiraiya-senpai. Good night," Yoru said.
Orochimaru waved, then left with Jiraiya.
Yoru supported Tsunade with one arm and waved with the other.
Once they were gone, Yoru didn't use Flying Thunder God to return to the First Hokage's estate. He walked her home instead, checking her condition.
"Tsunade-senpai," he asked softly, "do you need to throw up?"
"N-no… I'm not drunk… just… sleepy," she mumbled, practically hanging off him.
"Then we walk."
As they walked through the empty streets, Yoru frowned slightly. "I don't hate people who drink. But I don't want to live with a drunk, and I definitely don't want to babysit someone who uses alcohol to numb grief."
"Light drinking is fine. Tipsy is fine. But if you ever drink like today again… I'm moving back out."
"I g-got it… d-don't be mean…" Tsunade mumbled, almost like she was pouting.
Like Boa Hancock's spoiled tone in that other world, Tsunade—at her most beautiful stage—somehow made it hard to stay angry.
Yoru sighed and kept walking.
When they passed a dark alley with no streetlights, Yoru suddenly looked back into the darkness.
His ice-blue eyes flashed like Sharingan in the night—cold enough to freeze blood.
After one glance, he turned back and continued walking.
Cut to the alley mouth: a figure was slumped there against the wall, drenched in cold sweat. His pupils shook; his eyes were filled with terror.
Only when Yoru's footsteps vanished did he dare breathe again.
If the Sannin were here, they'd recognize him immediately.
White hair falling to his shoulders and back, crimson eyes, a handsome face like Katō Dan's, dressed in a white robe—
It was Hiruko: the Sannin's classmate and friend, now only a special jōnin of Konoha.
Hiruko's heart hammered like it wanted to burst out of his chest.
He'd only met Yoru's gaze for a single second, and it felt like his strength was instantly drained. He felt freezing-cold—yet sweat poured out until his clothes were soaked.
Just like how Orochimaru's stare once made Team 7 collapse and vomit, Yoru's backward glance made Hiruko see his own death—a nightmare of being carved into countless fragments in an instant.
If he weren't Konoha shinobi, that vision might've become reality.
"W-wasn't his sensing his weakness…? Or is my stealth extension too weak?"
Hiruko didn't think, Yoru has grown stronger.
He thought, I'm too weak.
That inferiority—rooted since childhood—was exactly what would push him down the wrong path.
If Hiruko were merely a classmate, he might not have fallen this far.
But he was their friend—and that made him burn with envy and humiliation.
Three friends became the Hokage's students, fought missions together, became commanders in war, grew terrifyingly strong…
And no matter how hard he tried, he could never even see their backs.
They became ace combatants long ago. He still wasn't even a true "all-rounder" jōnin.
The gap devoured him until he stopped daring to interact with them.
But in secret, he never gave up. Night after night he dreamed of catching up, earning their recognition, fighting beside them as equals.
Every time he woke, the resentment grew heavier.
If he'd never found hope, he might've sunk into depression and withered away.
And the Second Shinobi World War did give him hope.
The Forbidden Technique Archive—Konoha's sealed library of forbidden jutsu.
It was one of Konoha's most restricted zones. Jōnin and Anbu guarded it around the clock. Only the Hokage could enter freely; even the elder council needed explicit permission.
Inside were countless taboo records—completed forbidden techniques, prototypes, half-finished drafts, even mere "ideas."
In peacetime, Hiruko would've been detected long before he could approach.
But with war, sensory ninja became scarce and were all dispatched to the front.
The guards were no longer elite all-rounder jōnin—only special jōnin.
And in that moment, Hiruko—the Sannin's friend—was valued by Hiruzen and assigned to protect this critical site.
Then, by pure coincidence, while cleaning the archive with another guard, Hiruko accidentally knocked down a scroll—an "idea draft" without a sealing lock.
He saw its contents.
And in that moment, he saw the path to catch up to the Sannin.
So he stole the unfinished forbidden technique.
That technique was:
Chimera Technique.
A fusion jutsu—similar in concept to the Inuzuka clan's secret arts—capable of merging with summons to gain their abilities.
It was archived as taboo because the originator proposed something far worse:
fusing with other shinobi to steal their bloodline limits.
That meant human experimentation—ethical violation, mass casualties among bloodline shinobi, panic, and inevitable purges.
Because it was still only an idea draft, it lacked full sealing protocols—making it easy for Hiruko to steal.
He decided to research it in secret.
And then, recently, Gojo Yoru's space-time bloodline shook the world, and he was crowned "miracle incarnate."
Just revealing that bloodline ended a world war early.
Hiruko couldn't imagine what kind of bloodline could force two great nations to abandon victory and withdraw.
When wartime newspapers finally explained the true terror of space-time, Hiruko's mind snapped into obsession.
Even Wood Release and Sharingan felt… small.
If he could obtain that bloodline… he could replace Yoru as the miracle incarnate.
And Chimera Technique could make that "possible."
Because the world wanted Yoru dead, the papers published his weaknesses openly—his bounty, his vulnerabilities, everything—encouraging assassination and poison.
So Hiruko, who possessed puppet curses and stealth extensions, finally couldn't resist. Tonight, he tailed Yoru.
He didn't even get the chance to place a puppet curse.
One look.
And he collapsed, unable to stand.
The madness evaporated instantly.
Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
That was a monster from a different dimension.
From that day on, Hiruko wouldn't just abandon the idea—he'd tremble if he saw Yoru on the street.
Yoru, of course, had no idea the follower was Hiruko—one of the few names he'd ever written into his "mental memo."
He only sensed a faint, intermittent chakra presence trailing him—different from Anbu.
So he did what Orochimaru once did to Team 7: he manifested the killing intent he'd accumulated over two years into a psychological warning via invisible Yin Release chakra.
If the tail hadn't felt non-hostile—likely Konoha—Yoru would've already executed them as a foreign spy.
As an ace combatant and strategic asset equal to a Jinchūriki, Yoru now held privileges.
In emergency conditions he could bypass the Hokage and assign sub-jōnin shinobi missions under S-rank.
On the road, he could seize squad leadership from lower-ranked captains.
If he judged it necessary, he could even act first and explain later.
At this point, it wasn't that Yoru needed Konoha.
It was that Konoha needed him.
Nawaki, Asuma, and future Konohamaru were "fake" princelings.
Gojo Yoru was the real one.
The next day, Konoha's atmosphere visibly changed.
Before that, even though the war had ended nearly a month earlier, the village was still packed—tourists flooding in just to catch a glimpse of the miracle incarnate.
The burial ceremony was the true emotional "closure." People had already cried themselves dry over messages of lost family and friends; yesterday was the final release.
Today they woke up different and began living again.
Including Tsunade.
With the war over, Tsunade returned to Konoha Hospital—and brought Yoru and Kushina with her, teaching them medical ninjutsu personally.
Yoru had to improve his medical skills so that if he was poisoned outside the village, he could detox himself or at least delay the toxin until he could teleport back for treatment.
And Kushina—distant Senju kin, Nine-Tails Jinchūriki—was born for body arts, sealing, and medicine.
Once she awakened Vitality Healing, she wouldn't even need formal medical ninjutsu to become one of the greatest healers alive.
No one in the world was more suited to be Tsunade's student.
Orochimaru had Yoru. Jiraiya had his own student.
Tsunade didn't want to lose. So she chose Kushina as her heir.
Even though Kushina belonged to Orochimaru's team and called him "sensei," she wasn't truly Orochimaru's direct student in the same way—more like Sakura under Kakashi.
If she learned Orochimaru's signature arts and signed a blood contract with Ryūchi Cave, then she'd count as a true student.
Yoru was thrilled Tsunade took Kushina.
Before, he'd chosen Ryūchi Cave for Kushina only because there was no better option and he didn't want to owe anyone enormous favors.
But if he had a real choice, he'd rather Kushina learn Shikkotsu Forest sage arts.
Slug Sage was gentle, cooperative, and absurdly compatible with Kushina's Vitality Healing and sensory gifts—remote healing, shared vision, and battlefield support.
Kushina was even more suited to Tsunade than Shizune or Sakura.
If Kushina truly became Tsunade's student, then if the Third War ever happened and Yoru, Minato, and Kushina all fought, they'd form a new "Three Sannin."
Just imagining it was fun.
For the next two months, Yoru ran a split schedule.
Daytime: he and Kushina trained medical ninjutsu under Tsunade.
At home: he left shadow clones to research Spirit Transformation, trying to patch his sensing weakness.
Nights: he cooked with Kushina as "tuition" for Tsunade.
Whether Tsunade had truly listened that night or hadn't been as drunk as she pretended, she stopped binge-drinking. She still drank, but only to a pleasant buzz.
Her gambling habit, though, remained—and somehow got worse.
Every night after dinner, she'd drag Yoru and Kushina into what could only be described as a "charity tournament."
Yoru strongly suspected Tsunade kept him living there not just for free meals and a handsome chef, but also because she wanted a good-looking gambling partner.
Since she insisted on donating money to him, Yoru was happy to accept.
If Tsunade won, disaster would follow—meaning he could prepare in advance.
If Tsunade lost… he'd just collect.
In fact, he was already planning to teach her a "life lesson":
First she loses cash—then she uses jutsu scrolls to cover debts—
When the scrolls run out, she stakes the house—
When the house is gone, she stakes herself—
And Yoru becomes her biggest creditor, making Tsunade his lifelong workhorse.