"Sakumo, although I sent you an invitation, I didn't expect you to actually come. It seems you haven't forgotten the friendship we shared during our time at the Ninja Academy. I'm truly glad."
Uchiha Su's hand closed naturally around Sakumo Hatake's, and his eyes shone with genuine emotion. There was a warmth in his gaze that went beyond mere courtesy—this was the recognition of someone who had stood by him, however briefly, during a time of innocence and shared struggle.
Back then, his relationship with Sakumo had been excellent, perhaps the best outside of Tsunade and Orochimaru, even slightly surpassing the connection he shared with Jiraiya. After all, Jiraiya had always been loud, boisterous, and, in many ways, overwhelming. Su, who had naturally gravitated toward quiet and contemplation, had only managed to become close to Jiraiya because of nostalgia—the echoes of a past life and the comforting memories of childhood stories and anime he had once cherished. It was strange how those small, seemingly inconsequential details could influence the bonds formed in youth.
"I also didn't expect that you, Su-kun, would end up on this path," Sakumo Hatake said softly, his voice tinged with awe and melancholy. He had never imagined that Su would leave Konoha. The incident, in its time, had sent shockwaves across the Village. Half of the Uchiha clan had followed Uchiha Madara to the Land of Water, creating consequences so profound that even Tobirama Senju had been forced into a frenzy of damage control.
"If you ever feel unhappy staying in Konoha, you can come to me. The gates of the Hidden Mist are always open to you," Su said, gently patting Sakumo's shoulder. The gesture was natural, yet weighted with a promise that went far beyond words.
The death of Sakumo Hatake had long haunted Su. A rising star with remarkable battle achievements—someone who had even worn the half-sleeve of the Hokage—had abandoned a mission to save his comrades. Rumors spread like wildfire, and the Village, unable to reconcile his actions with the dogmas of duty and loyalty, ultimately drove him to suicide. The White Fang of Konoha, one of the Village's most powerful and respected ninja, had been claimed by his own ideals.
Yet Su refused to believe that Sakumo had succumbed simply because of a fragile heart. Any truly formidable ninja, Su thought, needed an iron resolve, a heart capable of withstanding what ordinary people would find unbearable. How could someone of Sakumo's caliber end his life solely because of whispers and gossip?
In Su's mind, the situation was more complex. While the indifference and manipulations of those in power had contributed to Sakumo's demise, Su also believed that Sakumo had made a conscious choice, a deliberate act of martyrdom meant to awaken the Village through his own sacrifice. The Will of Fire, in his eyes, had long since been twisted. Children under ten were sent to the battlefield as expendable pawns, often reduced to fodder for Fire Release or detonating tags. Ninja who abandoned a mission to save comrades were vilified, while the powerful looked on without intervention.
What had once been an ideal—the Will of Fire—had become distorted, corrupted by bureaucracy, fear, and the weight of unexamined tradition. Perhaps it was this corruption that had driven Sakumo to choose martyrdom.
After reconnecting with Sakumo Hatake, Su's attention shifted to Jiraiya. The boy—no, the man—who had always been loud, irrepressible, and full of life, now stood before him. Su's gaze was analytical yet intrigued, almost as if he were attempting to peer into the depths of Jiraiya's motivations.
If Jiraiya had truly wanted to become Hokage, he would have been the Fourth Hokage. Even Minato Namikaze would have had to step aside. Yet Jiraiya had chosen otherwise, leaving the Village under the pretense of bringing back Orochimaru.
Why not be Hokage?
Was it because he could not forget the resolute back of Orochimaru when he defected from the Village? Or was it the memory of Sakumo Hatake's melancholic eyes at the time of his martyrdom that haunted him still, shaping his choices and decisions?
"Uchiha Su, why are you looking at me like that?" Jiraiya asked, shifting uncomfortably under Su's steady gaze. He raised his voice, a little too loudly, to try and bolster his own confidence.
"I just wanted to say… welcome to the Hidden Mist, Jiraiya. Tomorrow, someone will take you to the mixed-gender hot springs to soak and relieve the fatigue of your journey," Su said with a gentle, knowing smile.
"Big Brother Su! You should've said so earlier!" Jiraiya exclaimed. He bounded up behind Su, draping an arm around his shoulders with an exaggerated fawning grin. "Big Brother Su, is this pressure okay? If it's not enough, just tell me! I'll make sure you're completely comfortable, Big Brother Su!"
"Is it… a mixed-gender hot spring?" Jiraiya confirmed nervously, repeating the question as though seeking reassurance.
"Of course it is," Su said with a smile, his tone light. If no women happened to show up, a hot spring full of men would still be acceptable. Su only hoped that Jiraiya, when he eventually wrote Icha Icha Paradise, would refrain from pushing the limits in ways that were inappropriate or harmful.
"Big Brother Su, you really are the best!" Jiraiya said, his voice almost breaking with emotion. At this moment, he had no idea what awaited him the next day, and yet he felt completely reassured.
Once Jiraiya and Sakumo had been greeted, Su turned his gaze to Tsunade and Orochimaru.
"Su-kun, I still haven't made much progress on the research you asked me to conduct regarding the Kaguya Clan's bloodline disease," Orochimaru admitted, bowing his head slightly in apology.
"It's fine. This type of research is not something that can be accomplished in a day or two. I have already prepared for a long-term endeavor," Su said with a gentle smile.
The reason Su had entrusted Orochimaru with such difficult work was not purely to solve the Kaguya bloodline disease. He intended to cultivate Orochimaru's research skills early on, shaping him into a future pillar of scientific and biological discovery. Su had already deployed scouts across the ninja world, seeking talented individuals well-versed in science and biology. Before Orochimaru came of age, these people would form the backbone of the solution to the Kaguya Clan's bloodline issues.
"I feel so guilty. You gave me so much trust, Su-kun, and yet I haven't done it well…" Orochimaru said softly, his voice tinged with remorse.
"Haha, Orochimaru, there's no need for such words between us," Su said, placing a reassuring hand on Orochimaru's shoulder. "Focus on the work itself. That is what matters."
"Tsunade, welcome to the Hidden Mist," Su said, turning his attention to her, his expression calm and gentle.
"Why am I last?" Tsunade asked, pouting slightly, her tone teasing yet curious.
"Because the most important person is often the last one," Su replied naturally, without a hint of hesitation.
"C-could… that really be the case?" Tsunade murmured, her cheeks warming as her voice softened.
"Of course that is the case," Su said, stepping closer. His voice carried a warmth and gentleness that made it impossible to ignore. "That is why I came to you last; this way, we can have a little longer to talk."
"Su… you should go entertain the others first. I… I'm not in a rush…" Tsunade stammered, flustered by the directness and thoughtfulness of his words.
"All right, but there is one more thing I need your help with, Tsunade," Su said, his expression serious now, revealing the true purpose of this conversation.
"Sure, sure! What do you need me to do?" Tsunade asked eagerly, nodding repeatedly, curiosity and anticipation sparkling in her eyes.
"You know, on the battlefield, based on the idea that Konoha and the Hidden Mist are one big family, we took in the defeated ninjas. These ninjas all have families back in Konoha, and they miss home terribly," Su explained, his voice soft yet resolute.
"What I want to ask from you is this: could you help bridge a connection between me and the Second Hokage? I am willing to pay whatever is necessary to redeem the families of these ninjas and bring them to the Hidden Mist. Additionally, I hope you can accompany me tomorrow to visit them."
Tsunade's eyes widened. The request was not trivial—it involved logistics, diplomacy, and the delicate balance of inter-village relations—but she could see the earnestness in Su's gaze. It was impossible to refuse him.
"I… I understand, Su-kun. Leave it to me. I will arrange it," Tsunade said, nodding firmly. Her mind was already racing through possibilities, solutions, and contingencies, ready to ensure that the ninjas' families could be safely brought to the Hidden Mist.
Su smiled, the weight on his shoulders momentarily lifting. This was not a simple mission of strategy or politics—it was a matter of human connection, of caring for the people who had been swept up in the tides of history and war. Ensuring their safety, even partially, was an ideal worth pursuing.
"And… thank you, Tsunade. Your assistance means more than I can ever express," Su said quietly.
Tsunade felt a flush of warmth in her chest. Here was a man who not only led with intellect and skill but with compassion that touched even the smallest threads of human concern.
The courtyard was calm now, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the Hidden Mist grounds. The wind rustled gently, carrying the faint scent of sea spray from the nearby coast. Su took a moment to glance around—his classmates gathered, the loyal advisors waiting respectfully, and the village itself, quietly alive with activity.
In this moment, everything felt right. The Hidden Mist, Konoha, and those scattered families in between—they were not merely factions or villages. They were threads in the same fabric, part of the same story. Su had not merely inherited a position of power; he had inherited the responsibility of weaving all these threads together, of ensuring that the bonds of friendship, loyalty, and care remained unbroken despite the chaos of the world.
Tomorrow, he would begin that work. But today, for this brief moment, he allowed himself a rare luxury: the comfort of old friends, the laughter of reunited comrades, and the quiet satisfaction that even amidst turmoil, some things—friendship, honor, and duty—remained unshaken.
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