Those injected with the "Life Three" Wood Style serum gained more than just the ability to awaken the legendary lineage themselves; their descendants also carried a significant probability of being born as natural wielders of the Wood Style.
This transformation of genetic inheritance carried immense political weight. While some among the high command felt a cold prickle of unease at such a shift in the power balance, they could not ignore the fact that Konoha was becoming exponentially stronger.
With Minato backing Hiruko, the list of candidates authorized to purchase "Life Three" was strictly vetted by the Fourth himself. The elders, despite their grumbling, found it difficult to interfere. To openly oppose the current Hokage's decision would be to fracture the village's unity—a sin they were loath to commit.
Except for Danzo. While the Third and the advisors were fundamentally aligned with Minato's vision for a prosperous Konoha, Danzo remained the jagged stone in the path.
"Hmph. Hiruko is getting far too close to the Uchiha. Who knows what's truly swirling in that head of his?" Danzo said, his voice dripping with venom. "Is he too naive to see their wolfish ambitions? The man is a fool!"
Danzo harbored nothing but cold contempt for the Uchiha. To him, any transaction between Hiruko and that clan was a step toward treason. Furthermore, the fact that Hiruko had worked behind his back to provide Kushina with Wood Style stabilization agents was, in Danzo's eyes, a blatant betrayal of their "partnership."
"Enough of this baseless talk," Hiruzen Sarutobi interrupted sharply. "Minato and Hiruko have made tangible, massive contributions to this village. The Uchiha, for their part, have done nothing out of line."
"To cast suspicion on the village's heroes without cause is not the way we operate!"
Hiruzen glared at Danzo until the latter lowered his head like a rebuked sinner. To Hiruzen, Danzo's obsession with the Uchiha was a blind spot that ignored Minato's Herculean efforts to mend the rift. For the first time, there was a Hokage who didn't alienate the Uchiha—and more importantly, a Hokage the Uchiha actually respected.
If this continued, the Uchiha might finally integrate into the village completely by the time Minato finished his term.
The results were already showing. Fugaku Uchiha had moved from cautious observation to full cooperation. The Research Division was thriving, and the Uchiha as a whole had become more grounded, shedding much of their former arrogance. They had even yielded several key positions in the Police Force to other clans and commoner ninja, a move Minato facilitated to reduce friction with the civilian population.
The Uchiha were now focused on the Research Division and maintaining order across the Land of Fire's transit routes. In Hiruzen's eyes, they were on the path to becoming stalwarts of the Hokage, much like the "Ino-Shika-Cho" trio. He wouldn't let Danzo sabotage this peace.
"We are the old guard. We have stepped down; the future belongs to the youth," Hiruzen said firmly. "We offer advice based on experience to help Minato avoid pitfalls, but we do not dictate his path."
He looked at Danzo one last time. "Danzo, face reality. This is Minato's era, not ours. Stop trying to keep your hands on the wheel!"
"You'll regret this, Hiruzen!"
"Hmph. Minato is the Hokage." The two parted ways once again in a cloud of mutual frustration.
The morning sunlight gently draped across her face.
Tsunade knit her brows, the throbbing headache of a hangover still circling her skull. Her throat felt as dry as parched earth. Instinctively, she kicked off the covers and stepped onto the cool floor, staggering toward the door.
In the kitchen, a bowl of steaming rice porridge sat quietly on the table, as if it had been waiting for her exact moment of waking. She picked up the bowl and tilted it back, the sound of her gulping echoing in the silent room. The warm millet porridge hit her stomach, finally dispelling the worst of the discomfort.
She squinted, scanning the empty house—he wasn't there.
On the table sat a covered breakfast spread with a small note pinned beside it. She curled her lip but picked it up, reading the scrawled handwriting: "Gone for morning training. Remember to eat."
She huffed, crumpling the paper into a ball, only to find herself smoothing out the wrinkles a moment later.
With no one watching, she let herself relax. After finishing the breakfast with a whirlwind efficiency, she wandered to the wardrobe. Her fingers trailed across a row of clothes before hooking out a large, oversized shirt. She then took her time gathering her intimate apparel and a fresh towel.
Being a frequent guest, Tsunade had her own dedicated bedroom at Hiruko's estate, stocked with her own clothes. Humming a tuneless little melody, she headed toward the bathroom.
As she passed the master bedroom, a faint, rhythmic whimpering drifted through the crack in the door.
She paused, listening for a beat, before shaking her head and continuing on. Whatever Hiruko was up to was none of her business; she wasn't "anyone" to him, after all.
The people of Konoha whispered that she was the one with the mental scars—the legendary Sannin who couldn't stand the sight of blood. But in truth, Tsunade suspected that Hiruko's inner world was far more scarred and extreme than her own. Even when he wore that mild, gentle smile, his chakra carried a bone-chilling coldness.
Even Orochimaru's presence was icy, but this... this was different.
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