Natsuhiko's idea was, at its core, very simple—
Deepen the divisions within the Uchiha.
After all, it wasn't unheard of for a single clan to harbor two opposing voices, constantly clashing and competing for control. But while such situations weren't rare, they certainly weren't common either.
And now that such a fracture existed—right in front of them—
Not making use of it would be a waste.
Letting dogs bite each other was always the easiest, most efficient method.
All it required was supporting one side—giving it just enough backing to stand, while carefully controlling how far it could rise.
Do that…and the Uchiha would tear themselves apart from within.
The conflict would grow fiercer.
The division, deeper.
And in the end, the entire clan would weaken.
A weakened Uchiha clan… would be of immeasurable benefit to Konoha—especially to a Konoha shaped by the will of Tobirama Senju, now firmly under Hiruzen Sarutobi's control.
The reason Natsuhiko could think this way…
Was, oddly enough, thanks to something from his previous life.
There had once been a certain country—one infamous for stirring chaos across the world.
To them, a united and peaceful rival was never ideal.
But a nation plagued by constant internal conflict, gradually eroding itself through endless strife—
That was the "perfect" outcome.
Natsuhiko didn't like such methods.
But he couldn't deny their effectiveness.
And in this situation—within a clan—
The same logic applied.
Based on what he knew of the Uchiha, their future was already written.
With the fall of the Fourth Hokage, combined with the village's increasingly harsh isolation policies, the clan would be pushed into a corner.
And in that corner—
They would unite.
United in a single goal:
Rebellion.
That was something Hiruzen Sarutobi did not wish to see.
Nor did Natsuhiko.
The only one who might welcome it…
Was Danzo.
The difference between Natsuhiko and Hiruzen lay in their approach.
Hiruzen hesitated.
As Hokage, he had to consider appearances, consequences, and the ripple effects of taking action against an entire clan.
But once the clan was gone—once the decision had already been made under Danzo's influence—
There would be nothing left to hesitate over.
In simple terms, Hiruzen might waver on whether the Uchiha should continue to exist—
But he would never lose sleep over a clan that had already been erased.
Natsuhiko, however, was different.
He had no intention of letting the Uchiha disappear.
To him, they were a reservoir of talent.
Yes, many among them were dissatisfied with Konoha's rule—
But not all.
There were still those willing to negotiate.
Those who could think rationally.
So why not elevate those voices?
Why not give them room to breathe?
If the Uchiha exhausted themselves through internal conflict, then even if the doves ultimately lost—
They would lack the strength to stage a coup.
And if the Fourth Hokage were still alive?
Then supporting the doves would become an even more valuable strategy.
After all, Minato Namikaze was the one who truly wished to change the Uchiha.
Those doves… would one day become his subordinates.
A loyal faction within the clan, aligned with the Hokage—
That would be an enormous advantage for him.
But there was one detail—
One that everyone seemed to have overlooked.
If members of the Uchiha were to enter the ANBU, then barring any surprises…
They would be placed under Natsuhiko's division.
And once they entered his unit—
Their direct superior would be him.
And Natsuhiko?
He had never truly taken anyone's side.
"Now that both Hokage have given their approval…"
A faint smile curved at his lips.
"This is practically settled."
The only remaining question was—
What kind of person would that old fox, Uchiha Shin… send his way?
As he walked home, Natsuhiko found his thoughts drifting back to Uchiha Shin.
In truth, he didn't know the man very well. Not being a member of the Uchiha clan, the information available to him had always been fragmented at best. All he truly knew was that Shin was an elder—beyond that, there was little of substance, no clear sense of the man's convictions or deeper intentions.
Still, Natsuhiko did know one thing.
He knew who the Uchiha would send into the ANBU in the future.
Only now, with his own interference, even that certainty had begun to blur. Whether those two would still walk the same path… he could no longer say for sure.
"Though if nothing unexpected happens," he murmured to himself, "Uchiha Shisui should still have a chance."
Uchiha Itachi, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. As the clan head's son, his identity alone made things complicated. With Natsuhiko's recent proposals to Hiruzen regarding measures against the Uchiha, it was difficult to say whether someone like Itachi would still be allowed to enter the ANBU at all.
Shisui, however, stood on different ground.
A descendant of Uchiha Kagami, he was naturally aligned with the more moderate faction. Coupled with the ideals he had inherited, it was unlikely he would ever support extreme measures to seize power within Konoha.
And beyond that—
The boy was a prodigy.
His performance at the Academy had already been recorded by the ANBU, along with detailed observations of his personality and disposition.
"…Still, he's too young."
Natsuhiko let out a quiet breath.
Shisui was only nine years old. Like Kakashi and Itachi, he had graduated early and had already seen the battlefield—had already witnessed the cruelty of war firsthand.
Even so, he was still just a child.
With the war now largely over, Shisui had returned to the routine of accompanying mission teams, steadily gaining experience through smaller assignments.
Moreover, he was already receiving significant attention within the Uchiha clan. Extracting someone like him into the ANBU would be no simple task.
But in the end, none of that was something Natsuhiko needed to worry about right now.
Whatever happened, he would not be the one at a loss.
...
By the time he reached his new residence, dusk had already begun to settle. He cast a brief glance around the quiet surroundings before stepping inside.
The house was spacious—larger than he had expected—and the number of rooms suggested it could easily accommodate several people.
And yet, at present, only two lived there.
Himself—
And a woman named Senju Renge.
The thought struck him as wasteful.
"Natsuhiko-sama, you've returned."
No sooner had he entered than a cool, composed voice greeted him.
Turning his head, he saw Senju Renge standing nearby. Her posture was impeccable, her demeanor respectful, yet her beautiful, distant face revealed little emotion.
Natsuhiko nodded lightly. He had already witnessed her manner the day before, so this came as no surprise.
"I'm back," he replied. After a brief pause, he added, almost casually, "You don't have to be so formal. Just call me Natsuhiko."
"Dinner is ready. Please prepare to eat, Natsuhiko-sama."
It was as if she hadn't heard him at all.
Her tone remained the same—polite, restrained, and quietly elegant.
And that, more than anything, left Natsuhiko feeling just a little helpless.
Life, Natsuhiko reflected, rarely bent to one's will. If resistance was futile, then the only sensible choice was to accept it—perhaps even learn to enjoy it. Though a trace of helplessness lingered in him, he couldn't deny that this arrangement wasn't entirely unpleasant.
Humans, after all, were creatures of company. Natsuhiko was not so cold or detached as to prefer solitude above all else. Having someone nearby—someone to share the same space with—was not a bad thing. Even if that someone came with her own complications… it was still better than silence.
"Though," he mused inwardly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, "it definitely has to be a woman. If it were a man, I'd have thrown him out by now."
After finishing a dinner that was, by all standards, quite decent, Natsuhiko found himself realizing something unexpected—he had the makings of a remarkably capable slacker.
There was simply… nothing for him to do.
Senju Renge handled everything with quiet efficiency. From clearing the table to washing the dishes, she left no detail unattended. If one counted the cooking as well, then Natsuhiko's responsibilities had been reduced to almost nothing at all.
It was difficult not to admit—
This kind of life held a certain appeal.
The dream of idleness, of effortless comfort, was perhaps universal. Even someone like Natsuhiko found it hard to resist. After all, when one could live as comfortably as a feudal lord (daimyō), free from trivial burdens, who wouldn't feel at ease?
"Besides… it frees up my time for things that actually matter."
Stretching out on the sofa in the living room, he allowed himself to sink into the quiet comfort of the moment, his thoughts drifting once more.
There were still many things he needed to consider.
Most pressing of all… was what awaited Namikaze Minato in just a few months' time.
Truthfully, the matter left him conflicted.
On one hand, there was a certain appeal in letting events unfold as they originally had—allowing Minato to face the inevitable, that cruel twist of fate written into the story itself.
The advantages of such a path were obvious. Without needing to think too deeply, Natsuhiko already knew how things would play out. And with that knowledge, he could position himself accordingly, making decisions that would benefit him at every turn.
Stability. Predictability.
There was undeniable value in both.
As the saying went, doing nothing meant making no mistakes—and in certain moments, that philosophy held true. Though it might appear passive, even stagnant, there were times when restraint itself became the most prudent choice.
And yet…
Natsuhiko knew better than anyone that his very existence had already altered the course of this world.
In the original story, there had been no "him." No one to take away the great lizard of Kubisaki Castle. No one to stir chaos within Sunagakure as he had done.
Individually, these actions might seem insignificant against the vast tide of history. But as someone shaped by a materialist worldview, he believed firmly that all things were interconnected.
Even setting that aside—
There was still the so-called butterfly effect.
Who could say how great a storm his small flutter of wings had already set in motion?
The unknown was terrifying.
That was something Natsuhiko had never denied.
And it was precisely because of that uncertainty that he hesitated when it came to Minato's future.
If his actions had already transformed what was once certain into something unknowable, then simply allowing events to proceed "as planned" would mean nothing more than racing blindly down a path that only appeared familiar.
"…What a headache."
He pressed his fingers lightly against his brow, exhaling slowly.
This was not a problem he could ignore.
And yet, time was running out.
On the surface, Minato Namikaze's death might bring certain advantages to Natsuhiko—but if Minato were to live, who could say those benefits wouldn't be even greater?
Tsunade's eventual return as the Fifth Hokage was still thirteen years away. And in those thirteen years… too much would happen.
Kumogakure would come knocking, probing for weakness; a single misstep could plunge Konoha back into open war. At the same time, Root would expand recklessly in the shadows, Orochimaru would defect, and the Uchiha clan would meet its tragic end.
Thirteen years—far from peaceful, far from easy.
And Hiruzen Sarutobi's performance during that time could only be described, in Natsuhiko's mind, as deeply disappointing.
When Orochimaru's betrayal came to light, Hiruzen revealed the truth… yet ultimately let him go, swayed by old bonds and lingering sentiment. It was a decision that earned him goodwill and helped him consolidate power once more, even tipping the scales in his favor during the selection of the Fifth Hokage.
But that same softness came at a cost.
In dealing with Kumogakure, Hiruzen acted with extreme caution, sacrificing a single life—a branch member of the Hyūga clan—to prevent war. It was, in a sense, the most pragmatic choice available, one that allowed Konoha to weather a period of weakness.
And yet, it also dealt a heavy blow to morale, planting seeds of resentment that would fester. It allowed Kumogakure to leave behind hidden dangers within Konoha, while driving a wedge between the Hyūga and the leadership.
From there, matters only worsened.
Root's unchecked expansion, Danzō's increasing boldness in targeting the great clans—these tensions spread outward, beginning with the Hyūga and rippling across the village.
Then came the annihilation of the Uchiha.
With that, distrust reached its peak.
By the time of the Chūnin Exams, the cracks were undeniable. Hiruzen stood alone against Orochimaru, attempting to display his resolve, his so-called strength of will.
But the truth was almost absurd.
Even as he fought, others could have stepped in—could have cleared out the Sand and Sound forces infiltrating the village. And yet, no one moved.
Not until he fell.
Only then did they rush out, shouting of vengeance, sweeping away the invaders with ease.
So, he might have been a 'Shinobi Professor' once, but in those thirteen years, he was on a path of self-destruction. Relying on him as a patron is a death trap.
He let out a long sigh, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily on him. It hadn't been obvious at first, but now that he examined it closely, he could see the flaw in his earlier plans.
Rising through Hiruzen Sarutobi—
That path was never realistic to begin with.
Even if Tsunade, upon becoming Hokage, chose not to purge Hiruzen's old faction, that didn't mean it was safe. Natsuhiko couldn't afford to ignore the risks.
His goal was clear.
He intended to become Hokage.
And if he were to seize that position without the recognition of others—relying solely on strength and force—then what awaited him would be endless complications, conflicts he had no desire to face.
"…But if Minato lives, then I have no opportunity at all."
Lying back, he laced his fingers behind his head, staring up as his thoughts churned restlessly.
"And besides… do I even have the strength to save him?"
The moment that question surfaced—
He froze.
Then, abruptly, he sat upright, as if something had just clicked into place.