Chapter 7: Of Gods and Parents or The Weight of Fear
Here's the scene rewritten in the third person, focusing on Tsume's perspective and emotions:
The ANBU lined the walls of the expansive council chamber, their masked visages unreadable, arms crossed or resting lightly at their sides. Each stood with quiet vigilance, their eyes sharp and focused, ready to act at a moment's notice. Yet beneath their stillness, tension crackled in the air, a palpable electricity that made the hairs on Tsume Inuzuka's arms stand on end.
From her vantage point, Tsume noted with a sense of pride the operatives guarding the chamber. Each one represented some of the deadliest shinobi in the Leaf, their cold, unmoving demeanor a façade for the vigilance honed through years of elite training.
But Tsume, with her keen instincts, could read the subtle signs they displayed: the faint tremors of tiredness and nervousness beneath layers of stubbornness and training. Even the most hardened shinobi couldn't escape the shadow of fear that hung over them, a darkness that loomed large after surviving the Nine-Tails' onslaught.
Her gaze drifted to the imposing council table at the heart of the chamber. Crafted from rich, dark mahogany, its polished surface gleamed under the ambient lighting, reflecting the anxious faces of the gathered clan heads.
The U-shaped table was a symbol of unity, yet it exuded an air of hierarchy that felt suffocating. Ornate, swirling patterns adorned its surface, nodding to Konoha's storied history, blending art and authority in a silent assertion of power.
As the last of the clan heads entered, murmurs faded into an uneasy silence. That silence pressed down on the room, broken only by the soft, distressed cries of a pale-faced infant. Each wail echoed through the chamber like a haunting reminder of the loss and devastation that lingered in the hearts of those who survived.
Tsume felt the air grow thick with tension, each second dragging painfully as unease deepened. The boy's face scrunched up, sensing the taint in the air. His cries grew louder, a stark contrast to the tense stillness, reverberating like a mournful lament.
Dark brown hair fell messily around Tsume's face, and the jagged scar on her cheek, once a point of pride, felt like a raw wound now—a visible representation of the pain carved into her very soul. Her amber eyes, once fierce and full of life, had dulled as they stared into the distance, unfocused, searching for something that was lost forever. The intensity that had defined her gaze faded, replaced by a quiet, lingering grief visible to anyone unwise enough to notice.
Though she remained strong, the wild energy that once defined her had given way to a deep, aching sense of loss. The fierceness within her softened, opening her to vulnerabilities she had thought long dead and buried.
Suddenly, her keen animal instincts flared to life. She looked up, locking eyes with Hiruzen before her gaze settled on the bundle he cradled. "Hokage-sama… The child… he smells… why does he smell like foxes and blood," she whispered, her voice raspy and strained. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, the scents intensifying the storm of emotions churning inside her. Her hands clenched tightly at her sides, the tension evident in her trembling fingers as she fought to keep her voice steady.
Since the Nine-Tails attack had taken her husband and left her mourning the loss of Minato and Kushina, Tsume's ironclad self-control shattered, revealing a depth of grief that left her feeling vulnerable and exposed.
In this tumultuous moment, her desire for vengeance warred against her responsibilities as the head of her clan. The headache that throbbed relentlessly served as a cruel reminder of her losses, each pulse a reminder that her husband was gone and that a child would grow up never knowing the love of his parents.
Tsume pinched the bridge of her nose, a sharp breath escaping through gritted teeth. She couldn't afford to lose focus now, not when everything depended on her clarity. If she wanted to protect the legacy left behind by her two closest friends, she needed to summon every ounce of strength she had, regardless of how much it threatened to unravel her.
Why did this happen? she wondered, sorrow creeping in like a shadow. This night should have been the greatest of their lives. Newly married, with a healthy child in their arms… How had it all gone so wrong?
As these thoughts swirled within her, a feral protective instinct ignited. *I have to protect their child. I know the Civilian Council wants him dead; they don't see him for who he is, only what he contains.*
Her anger flared as she eyed the civilians with barely restrained hostility. *I refuse to let those fools harm a child out of sheer ignorance. Minato and Kushina died for this village, and I won't stand by while their son is treated like a threat. If they want a fight, they'll get one.*
Standing at the head of the chamber, Hiruzen noted the pain in Tsume's visage and released a heavy sigh, the air thick with the weight of impending conflict. He knew he had to get this meeting over with, no matter the cost. His expression hardened as he prepared to speak, his chakra flaring, causing the floor beneath him to crack slightly, fissures snaking out like veins in the polished wood.
"Before I answer your question, Inuzuka-san, all civilian members of the council will leave," he commanded, his voice edged with steel. "The identity of this child is an S-rank secret. If any of you refuse to comply, the ANBU will be forced to carry out an immediate execution."
His words sliced through the air like a blade, silencing the civilians. Outrage erupted, but the sound of unsheathing swords swiftly choked off their protests. Pale faces filled with fear, the civilians were herded toward the doors by the masked ANBU, their murmurs of dissent cut short by the resounding slam of the chamber doors.
In the silence that followed, Hiruzen took a steadying breath, feeling the weight of the village pressing down on him. He turned to the remaining clan heads, their eyes locked on him, waiting for the bombshell they knew was coming.
"Now that the civilian council has been removed," Hiruzen began, his voice low but commanding, "I can speak freely." His gaze fell upon the infant in his arms, his heart tightening. "The child before you is Naruto Uzumaki, son of Kushina Uzumaki… and the Yondaime Hokage, Minato Namikaze."
Time seemed to freeze at that moment. The clan heads exchanged shocked glances, caught between disbelief and sorrow. One of them opened their mouth to speak, but all that came out was a confused cough. It broke the silence, and for a brief second, Tsume nearly laughed at the absurdity—until reality hit her again, hard and cold.
"To protect him," Hiruzen continued, his voice sounding older than his years, "I believe we should keep his heritage a secret. He will be known as Naruto Uzumaki to shield him from those who would seek vengeance for his father's actions during the Third Great Ninja War." He took a deep breath, mentally preparing for what was to come. Subconsciously, he cradled the child closer.
"This child carries within him the Kyūbi, sealed at the cost of both his parents' lives. They died protecting this village, entrusting its future—and his," he motioned toward the baby, "—to us." His voice cracked slightly as he spoke the final words, the image of Kushina's broken and bloodied body chained to the rock flashing in his mind, a scene that would haunt him until his dying day.
As Hiruzen finished speaking, the weight of his words hung heavily in the room. A collective gasp escaped the lips of the clan heads, their shock palpable. Tsume, unable to contain her grief any longer, openly wept, her tears a rare and raw display of vulnerability among shinobi.
No one in the room faulted her for her display. Who among them could say they didn't know Kushina and Minato when they had been snot-nosed Genin? Several council members had been comrades who fought and bled alongside the power couple as they matured into the lethal shinobi they became.
They had all risen through the ranks together, transitioning from Genin to Chūnin and then to Jōnin, now standing as the heads of their respective clans, forever bound by those shared memories.
Tsume, her usual fiery demeanor tempered by the deep grief in her eyes, couldn't hold back the tears sliding down her cheeks. Next to her, Mikoto Uchiha, Sasuke's mother and one of Kushina's closest friends, stood in silent agony. Her chest rose and fell with quiet sobs, her hands trembling at the news of Kushina's passing. They had shared so much together—missions, laughter, the bond of sisterhood. Now, that bond had been irrevocably severed.
On the other side of the room, Hiashi Hyuga and Fugaku Uchiha, who had served alongside Minato as elite Jōnin during the war, exchanged troubled glances. The burden of knowing their former friend's legacy now fell on their shoulders, leaving them paralyzed, caught between memories of the past and the harsh reality of the present.
Hiruzen took in the scene, sensing the collective grief and anger simmering beneath the surface. He understood the toll this revelation would take on each clan, and it weighed heavily on his heart. The memories of shared battles and laughter haunted him, intertwining with the pain of loss that permeated the room. Yet, despite the emotional upheaval, he steeled himself for what was to come, knowing that their duty to protect the future of the village lay heavily upon him.
Tsume's fury flared in stark contrast to the solemn atmosphere. It infuriated her—their petty politics, their fear of power imbalances, all of it. She couldn't shake the bitter realization that Naruto deserved to be raised by people who truly cared for him, not shuffled around like some dangerous burden. The thought ignited a fire within her, pushing her resolve to the forefront as she vowed to fight against the tide of ignorance that threatened the child's future.
But here she was, forced to sit in silence while the future of her friends' child was determined by the actions of cowards too weak to face her on the battlefield. Tsume shifted in her seat, her hands curling into fists beneath the table. The steady thrum of her heartbeat echoed in her ears as she scanned the room. They hid behind politics and schemes, whispering in dark corners, too afraid to confront her directly. It took every ounce of willpower to suppress the growl that rose in her throat.
Her foot tapped restlessly against the polished floor, a wild energy she couldn't dispel in the sterile confines of the council chamber. Tsume was used to solving problems with tooth and claw, not diplomacy and patience. She could tear them apart in a heartbeat, but here, in this room lined with protocols and the weight of tradition, she was shackled by rules and decorum. It was infuriating, and yet, for Naruto's sake, she had to bite her tongue and wait, forced to watch as those who had no right to decide his fate made their moves.
Hiruzen noticed her tense posture and met her gaze. His eyes were sharp, but there was an unspoken sympathy behind them. He swallowed his own frustration, fighting to maintain a calm exterior despite the storm swirling inside him. He knew Tsume's pain and anger—they mirrored his own in many ways—but he had long since learned to temper them. He needed control, especially now.
"Tsume," Hiruzen spoke gently, but his tone held a quiet firmness. "I understand how hard this is, and I respect your feelings. But the safety of the boy and the stability of the village must remain our priority." He leaned forward slightly, one hand gripping the edge of the table as he tried to meet her halfway, offering not just authority but understanding. "I need your cooperation, not just your frustration."
Tsume's jaw tightened, her nails digging into her palms until she felt the sting. She exhaled slowly, forcing her shoulders to relax. She wanted to lash out, to challenge him, but she knew it wouldn't help Naruto. Not here, not now. Her eyes flickered to the sleeping infant cradled in Hiruzen's arms. Her heart clenched.
Hiruzen took a deep breath, his gaze softening as he looked down at Naruto and then back at the council. "I've given this much thought," he began, his voice now steady. Naruto has two godparents—Kakashi Hatake and Anko Mitarashi. One question we must address is whether they should take on his care directly or protect him from a distance, ensuring his safety from the shadows."
The room was still, but the tension was palpable. Shikaku Nara, leaning lazily in his chair, raised an eyebrow and drawled, "And the other?"
Hiruzen turned to him, concern etched deep in his brow. "We need to decide," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the village's future, "whether Naruto should be trained as a shinobi or restricted to a life as a civilian."
The unspoken tension hung in the air. Everyone in the room understood the actual reason behind the second option. A child-like Naruto—carrying the Kyuubi, the very beast that had brought Konoha to its knees—was a threat in the eyes of many, particularly the Civilian Council. The idea of him gaining power, mastering chakra, and becoming a force they couldn't control was a terrifying prospect to them.
A thick silence followed Hiruzen's words, lingering like a weight pressing down on every shoulder. Tsume's amber eyes swept the room, narrowing as they met the rigid expressions of the Clan Elders. She could read them as quickly as a scroll. The idea of Naruto living a civilian life, untouched by training, Civilian Council be damned, was laughable. He was the son of the Yondaime Hokage, after all. There was no question. Naruto would be trained and shaped into the weapon Konoha needed—whether he liked it or not.
Hiruzen, sensing the silent consensus, closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a slow breath. The weight of what they were about to decide bore down on him. When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost resigned. "Very well," he said, meeting the eyes of each Council member in turn. "Naruto will be trained. But I will not allow him to become just a tool for this village." His gaze hardened. "He is still a child, and we must not forget that."
Tsume's lips twitched into a slight, knowing smirk, but she said nothing. Others shifted uncomfortably, the tension palpable. They all knew Hiruzen's words were an attempt to soften the reality of the situation, but the die had already been cast. Naruto's fate was sealed.
Hiruzen turned away, staring at the portrait of the Yondaime Hokage hanging on the wall, his mind racing. He had promised to protect the boy, but the village had its own demands—demands that would soon test the boundaries of that promise.
As the Hokage gathered his thoughts, an ANBU appeared silently beside each of the clan heads, presenting two thick dossiers. The sudden movement caused a ripple of surprise, though no one made a sound. Tsume straightened in her seat, eyes narrowing as she accepted the folder with a sharp glance at the masked operative.
The folders were marked "TOP SECRET" in bold red ink. The mere sight of the stamp sent a wave of unease through the council. Tsume's pulse quickened as her fingers brushed against the glossy surface, and the air in the room seemed to thicken with anticipation. This was no longer a simple discussion about Naruto's future. The stakes had just been raised.
Without hesitation, Tsume flipped open the first dossier: Kakashi Hatake. Her brows furrowed as her eyes scanned the contents. She knew of Kakashi, of course—everyone did. The famed Copy Ninja is a prodigy trained by Minato Namikaze himself. The details in the report were thorough, listing his accomplishments, his reputation, and his undeniable loyalty to the village. Yet there was an undercurrent of tragedy woven into his life—a man forged in war, shaped by loss.
Across the table, Shikaku whistled low as he read Kakashi's file. "Well, he certainly has the credentials," he remarked, though his voice was devoid of any genuine enthusiasm. The weight of the moment hung too heavily on his usual casual demeanor.
What surprised everyone as they read through Kakashi's assessment was the revelation that behind the hitai-ate that perpetually covered his right eye lay a Sharingan, a powerful dōjutsu typically exclusive to the Uchiha Clan. They also noted with interest—and some frustration—that the reason Kakashi possessed the Sharingan was conspicuously absent from the report.
One glance at the Hokage's impassive face told them that he was well aware of their unspoken thoughts and had no intention of offering further clarification. The steely glint in the old man's eyes screamed louder than words that any attempts to pry for more information would be dismissed with extreme prejudice.
Tsume turned to the next dossier, Anko Mitarashi. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she scanned the report. Anko's background was more controversial. While she was undeniably skilled, her history with Orochimaru cast a long shadow over her reputation. Known for her fierce and unconventional approach as a kunoichi, her wild demeanor and unyielding spirit had earned her both fear and respect from her peers.
The Hokage remained silent, watching as the clan heads reviewed the files. His hands rested on the table now, fingers lightly drumming in a slow, steady rhythm. He had his own opinions on Kakashi and Anko, but he needed the council to come to their conclusions first. It was their duty to debate and weigh the risks and rewards. But ultimately, the decision would fall to him.
Tsume closed the folder and leaned back, her eyes narrowing as she caught Hiruzen's gaze. "Are you seriously considering Anko?" she asked bluntly, her voice low but edged with disbelief. "I understand Kakashi, but… Anko? After everything?"
Hiruzen met her stare evenly. "I am," he replied. His tone was calm, but there was steel behind his words. "Anko has her demons, but she's fiercely loyal, and her bond with Kushina is genuine. Don't underestimate her."
The room fell silent again as the weight of the decision loomed over them all. Tsume's hand clenched into a fist on her lap. She didn't trust Anko fully, but she trusted Hiruzen. And she would do whatever it took to protect Naruto—just as his parents would have wanted.
Hiruzen nodded, sensing the shift in the room. "He must be trained," he said with finality, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, his tone resolute and unwavering. "Has it been been decided that Kakashi and Anko will be his guardians?"
The Clan Elders exchanged knowing glances before each gave a small, deliberate nod of agreement. Their expressions carried the weight of the village's future.
"It is settled, then," one of the elders said, their voice firm. "For the good of the village, Naruto will be trained."
Tsume glanced at the tiny bundle in the bassinet, her expression softening. "He's barely a day old," she said quietly, her voice protective. "The Civilian Council won't take this well. They're already afraid of him, and the fact they didn't have a say will only make it worse. He's just a baby. He doesn't deserve to carry the weight of their fears."
Hiruzen's eyes followed hers to Naruto, a deep sigh escaping him. "I understand," he said, his voice gentle. "But this is a decision the Council cannot make. Their fear will blind them, and we must do what is necessary for the village's future. His training will remain secret, and he will be shielded from the public eye until the time is right."
Tsume's lips tightened, but her gaze remained protective as she nodded. "Just make sure he's safe, Hiruzen. He's going to have enough challenges without the village turning against him."
Hiruzen met her gaze, his own heavy with the weight of his responsibility. "I will ensure it," he promised. "He will be protected. We'll guide him, and when the time comes, the village will see him as more than just the vessel of the Kyūbi."
Tsume gave a slight, approving nod. Despite the weight of their decision, her concern for the child was apparent. Hiruzen looked once more at the sleeping Naruto—barely a day old, yet already burdened with the village's expectations.
He paused, allowing the weight of his words settle in the room, his gaze steady on the gathered council. After a moment, he leaned slightly forward, emphasizing his point. "As the child of two powerful shinobi, he carries not just their legacy but also the burden of their enemies. It is our responsibility to ensure he is prepared for whatever challenges may arise."
The Shinobi Council agreed wholeheartedly. Naruto, as the son of Minato and Kushina, deserved every opportunity to develop his potential—not just as their child, but as the Jinchuriki of the Nine-Tails. They knew the weight of that burden and the enemies that would indeed seek him out because of it. Allowing him to grow up unprepared would be a disservice to both the boy and the village he would one day protect.
With that, Hiruzen determined that the secret portion of the meeting had concluded. Reluctantly, he signaled for one of the ANBU to inform the civilian members of the council that they could return if they so desired.
The council chamber hummed with tension, a storm of emotions roiling among the members. As the Civilian Council took their seats, Hiruzen's gaze zeroed in on Danzo, who had just entered with them. He leaned against the doorframe, relaxed yet radiating an unsettling calm.
"Danzo," Hiruzen began, his low growl cutting through the murmurings like a knife. Where were you and Root during the attack? Your absence was conspicuous."
Danzo's lips curled into a thin, practiced smile, his eyes revealing nothing of his intentions. "I was coordinating a response with my operatives. We had intel on potential threats but could not arrive in time to engage." His tone was smooth, yet it dripped with an arrogance that suggested he expected the council to swallow his words whole.
The council members shifted uncomfortably in their seats, exchanging skeptical glances. They all sensed the lie, but none had the evidence to challenge it. Hiruzen's jaw tightened, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "You expect us to believe you were simply coordinating from the shadows while the village was under siege?"
"Everything I do is for the protection of Konoha," Danzo replied, his voice steady and unyielding, resonating like the echo of a distant storm. He leaned forward slightly, his one visible eye narrowing with a fierce intensity that seemed to pierce through the room's tension. "You must understand that the weight of such decisions is immense." The flickering light from the oil lamps cast deep shadows on his weathered face, emphasizing the scars of past battles. "If we do not train Naruto as a weapon," he continued, his tone dropping to a near whisper, "we risk letting him become a liability. He carries the burden of the Nine-Tails within him, a force that could tip the balance of power in our favor—or against us."
Danzo paused, his mind racing with thoughts of past conflicts and the countless sacrifices he had made for the village. "Imagine harnessing that power," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. "A jinchuriki with control over the Nine-Tails could be Konoha's greatest asset. We would no longer be vulnerable to outside threats. Enemies would think twice before attacking, knowing we possess a living weapon capable of unrivaled destruction."
His gaze swept over the council members, lingering on Hiruzen, who sat stiffly behind the raised dais, a frown creasing his brow. "But this requires discipline, training, and absolute loyalty. I cannot allow sentimentality to cloud my judgment. We need Naruto to be molded into a tool for the village, one who will follow orders without hesitation. Only then can we—"
"Absolutely not," Hiruzen interrupted, his voice laced with authority and a hint of rising anger. The air in the council chamber thickened, crackling with the tension between them as if the very chakra of the room recoiled from Danzo's proposition. Hiruzen stood, the Hokage robes billowing slightly around him, giving him an imposing presence against the backdrop of the dimly lit chamber. His hand gripped the edge of the dais, knuckles whitening, channeling a surge of chakra to emphasize his resolve.
"That child will not be a tool for your machinations." His voice boomed, reverberating off the stone walls like a thunderclap. Hiruzen's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing, reflecting the flickering light from the oil lamps, which cast long shadows across the table where council members sat in rapt attention. The tension in the room felt palpable, a thick fog of unease that pressed against the skin.
Danzo remained seated, a thin smile creeping across his lips, though his body remained coiled like a spring. He leaned back, arms crossed, his posture exuding a calm confidence that clashed with Hiruzen's fiery intensity. "You're naive to believe that emotions can guide us in these times. The world outside Konoha is filled with threats, and the Nine-Tails' power is a resource we cannot afford to ignore," he replied, his voice cold and calculating, resonating with a chilling calm that only heightened the atmosphere.
Hiruzen took a step forward, chakra flaring subtly around him, a golden aura that shimmered faintly as he drew on his power to convey his unwavering determination. "Naruto is not a weapon," he asserted, his voice steady but edged with desperation. "He is a child, one who deserves to grow up free from the burdens of our past. You would turn him into a pawn in your twisted game of control." The ground beneath them felt as though it trembled in response to his fervor, the weight of his conviction vibrating through the air like an unseen force.
The tension in the room crackled like lightning, and Tsume Inuzuka slammed her fist onto the table, her voice rising in a fierce crescendo. "How dare you suggest that? He's a child, not some weapon to be molded into your twisted vision!"
Expressions of shock and outrage rippled through the other clan heads, their disbelief palpable like a dark cloud settling over the chamber. Tsume's hand trembled with barely contained fury, the knuckles white as she clenched her fists. Her heart raced, a drumbeat of indignation echoing in her ears, and she surged forward, nearly leaping at Danzo. "I'll—"
"Inuzuka!" an ANBU member stepped forward from the shadows, his masked face betraying no emotion, but the urgency in his grip was unmistakable. He grasped her arm with a firm yet respectful hold, his chakra flaring subtly as he aimed to ground her in the face of her rising anger. Tsume's eyes blazed with indignation, flickering like the flames of a wildfire, and her breath quickened as her instincts to protect ignited. She felt the surge of her canine lineage within her, an innate desire to defend her kin and her village.
"Let go of me!" she snapped, shaking off the ANBU's grasp, her voice sharp as a blade. The air around her seemed to crackle with her latent chakra, the tension rising like the oppressive heat before a storm. "He's talking about turning a child into a weapon! How can you all sit here and let this happen?"
Around the table, the other clan heads exchanged covert glances, their expressions reflecting a shared sense of outrage. The tension in the air thickened as they subtly shifted into position to back Tsume up, a united front forming against the weight of Danzo's chilling words.
Danzo remained unflinching, his calm demeanor unsettling amidst the growing storm of emotions surrounding him. While he appeared composed on the surface, inside, he seethed with rage at Tsume's outburst, the heat of her indignation striking a nerve. Silently, he vowed to twist this moment to his advantage, his mind racing with strategies to regain control of the narrative.
"Perhaps it's time we considered the broader picture," Mebuki Haruno interjected, a calculating glint in her eyes. "Why should we raise the boy? He carries the very beast that nearly obliterated our village. Wouldn't it be better for the village—and for our peace—to eliminate him? After all, we're hardly equipped to raise him properly. He's a potential threat."
Her words hung in the air, thick with dread. A ripple of shock coursed through the shinobi present. Hiruzen's gaze darkened, his fists clenched on the table until his knuckles turned white.
"You would suggest killing an innocent child? A child who had no part in the destruction?" he demanded, his voice simmering with controlled fury.
"Why not give him to Danzo?" another council member chimed in, desperation bleeding into their tone. "He has the means to control him. Let him be trained as a weapon—if we can't kill him, at least we can keep him under control."
Danzo's eyes gleamed at the opening, his voice deceptively soft as he seized the moment. "Exactly. Under my guidance, he will become a powerful asset for Konoha. He can learn to wield the strength of the Nine-Tails rather than letting it consume him." Despite his serene expression, the glint in his eye promised more manipulation than mentorship.
"No!" Hiruzen slammed his palms against the table, the sound reverberating through the chamber. Several members flinched. "You will not turn that boy into another pawn in your game, Danzo. We must protect him, not weaponize him!"
The room exploded into chaos, voices clashing in an uproar. Amid the turmoil, Tsume Inuzuka's anger boiled over. Her protective instincts ignited as she stood defiantly, her fists clenched. "You think you can control him? Do you think you're any better than the beast inside him? I will not let you harm him!"
Danzo's calm facade cracked ever so slightly, irritation flickering in his one visible eye. "And what do you propose, Tsume? Allow him to grow up untrained and vulnerable? He'll be a target for our enemies, an easy tool for them to exploit—"
"Better a target than a monster!" Tsume shot back, her voice ringing through the chamber with raw emotion.
Hiruzen raised a hand, commanding silence. "Enough!" His voice boomed with authority, quelling the rising storm. The room fell still, the weight of his presence undeniable. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself before speaking again. "Naruto will be raised with love and purpose, not as a weapon. He will be trained by those who understand the importance of compassion—"
"Like Kakashi and Anko?" Mebuki Haruno sneered, her arms crossed defiantly. "The very same who are forever linked to the man responsible for the murder of so many children and Leaf shinobi? You trust them to raise the orphan demon-possessed child?"
Hiruzen's eyes darkened with indignation. "They are not the demons you portray them to be, Mebuki. You speak of the boy as if he caused the destruction, yet you forget who the real enemy was. Naruto is just a child, not a weapon, not a threat. And have you ever considered if treating the boy like a pariah would turn him against the village? You claim to protect Konoha, yet your actions may lead him down a far darker path. Fear and hatred are the quickest ways to create enemies."
Mebuki faltered, the weight of his words landing heavy, but she wasn't ready to relent. Her face flushed with frustration, and she squared her shoulders, glaring back at the Hokage. "You say he's just a child, but how long will he remain that way? The Nine-Tails' chakra is inside him, growing stronger every day. What if he can't control it? What if he becomes like the beast that nearly tore our village apart? Or worse—what if he resents us for what we've done and unleashes that power on all of us?"
"Then don't give him a reason to resent us," The Hokage snapped back, his frustrations boiling over. Do they not understand, he lamented silently. Their actions would create the very thing they fear the most.
As the words left his mouth, Hiruzen's breath felt heavy, weighed down by the gravity of the situation. His gaze swept over the faces before him, trying to gauge if any of them had honestly heard him. The civilians fear him already, though he has done nothing to warrant it, he thought, bitterness gnawing at his core. They see only the Nine-Tails, not the innocent child burdened with a fate none of them could endure.
Have they forgotten the sacrifices made to keep the village safe? The death of Minato and Kushina still hung over him like a dark cloud. Minato gave everything, trusting me to protect his son, and yet here I am, defending the boy from those meant to care for him.
His fingers curled slightly, nails pressing into his palms as he fought to keep his emotions in check. If we continue down this path, we'll make him an enemy, not a protector. He could see it all too clearly—the loneliness, the mistrust, the isolation that could turn even the brightest soul cold.
They cannot see beyond their fear, he realized, the burden on his shoulders growing heavier with every passing second.
Undeterred, Mebuki's voice grew sharper as she continued, her fear spilling into the open. "We cannot be naive, Hokage-sama. This isn't about punishing him for something he didn't do—it's about protecting ourselves from what he might do. We've already lost too much. What happens when he reaches an age where he realizes he holds the power to destroy everything? Do you really think compassion will be enough to rein him in? He's carrying a monster inside him, and we can't afford to wait for it to awaken."
The chamber fell into a heavy silence as Mebuki's words echoed, her desperation raw and exposed. The civilians seated beside her nodded in grim agreement, their faces betraying their shared anxieties. They saw Naruto as a ticking time bomb, a potential threat wrapped in innocence.
But Hiruzen, undeterred, met her gaze with a calm yet unyielding resolve. "The what-ifs you speak of come from fear, not wisdom. If we treat him with suspicion, if we isolate him and push him away, we will only prove the Nine-Tails' legacy is stronger than the will of Fire. I refuse to let that happen. We will not create another enemy within our walls by giving into the fear of what he might become."
The voices in the chamber grew heated, rising like a storm as Mebuki's words fanned the flames of fear and doubt. Civilian Council members leaned forward, their voices intertwining in a cacophony of concerns.
"Enough!" Hiruzen's voice cracked through the room again, leaving no room for argument. "Any further discussion of killing the boy is unacceptable and will not be tolerated. I will not allow hatred to cloud our judgment."
The tension in the room thickened, a palpable weight pressing on everyone. Hiruzen's piercing gaze locked onto Danzo's, the silent clash of wills between them heavier than words.
"And I will not let you use this council to further your agenda, Danzo. Naruto is under my protection."
For a moment, the chamber was filled with nothing but silence, the weight of Hiruzen's words hanging over the council like a storm cloud. A chair scraped as a clan elder rose to his feet, his face etched with concern. "Hokage-sama, if the council feels so strongly, perhaps we can discuss alternative options. Surely, we can reach an agreement—"
"An agreement?" Hiruzen's voice thundered, the raw power of his authority rippling through the room. "There is no agreement to be made over the life of an innocent child! The matter is settled. Naruto will not be handed over to Root or anyone else. He will be trained by those who embody the values we uphold as a village—compassion, honor, and the will of fire!"
A murmur of unrest rippled through the chamber, but it was subdued beneath Hiruzen's unyielding gaze. He had spoken, and the decision was final. At that moment, the room fell into a reluctant silence, with Danzo's ambition momentarily checked but not extinguished. The battle lines were drawn, but Hiruzen's resolve stood firm. Naruto's fate—along with Konoha's—was now set.
Meanwhile, Shikaku Nara leaned back in his chair, contemplating the myriad dynamics surrounding the two proposed guardians. *Interesting, he mused, snapping the dossier shut with a quiet thud. *Kakashi is the obvious choice, though it's surprising the Hokage permitted the mention of his hidden Sharingan.* His brow furrowed as his fingers traced the edges of the folder. As the Jōnin Commander, Kakashi's secret was no revelation. It was a calculated risk to include such sensitive information in this report.
Yet it wasn't Kakashi that concerned him—it was the kunoichi.
Anko… The Commander's lips pressed into a thin line. She could quickly become a wild card, a dangerous liability if not carefully controlled. There was an unpredictability simmering beneath her surface, a potential for chaos that could disrupt the Hokage's plans.
Many would refuse to trust the seasoned kunoichi due to the heinous crimes of her former master. However, the shinobi portion of the council had long ago decided that she had repeatedly proven herself as a powerful and trustworthy asset to the Leaf.
"They're ideal," Tsume muttered under her breath, nodding as other clan heads exchanged approving glances. "If anyone can protect the boy, it's them."
"They'll raise him to be a strong shinobi," Hiashi added, a flicker of rare approval breaking through his usual stoicism.
Hiruzen nodded, sensing the shift in the room. "He must be trained," he agreed, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, his tone resolute and unwavering. "It is essential that he possesses the ability to protect himself, particularly given the nature of what is sealed within him."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle over the gathered council. After a moment, he leaned slightly forward, emphasizing his point. "As the child of two powerful shinobi, he carries not just their legacy but also the burden of their enemies. It is our responsibility to ensure he is prepared for whatever challenges may arise."
The Shinobi Council murmured their agreement. Naruto, as the son of Minato and Kushina, deserved every opportunity to develop his potential—not just as their child but as the Jinchuriki of the Nine-Tails. They knew the weight of that burden and the enemies that would indeed seek him out because of it. Allowing him to grow up unprepared would be a disservice to both the boy and the village he would one day protect.
With that, Hiruzen signaled that the secret portion of the meeting had concluded. Reluctantly, he gestured for one of the ANBU to inform the civilian members of the council that they could return if they so desired.
As expected, and to the chagrin of every shinobi present, every member of the Civilian Council returned, muttering darkly among themselves as they settled back into their seats.
With a heavy heart, Hiruzen began again. "We must form a plan to support Naruto and prepare him for the future. As a village, it is our duty to see him grow strong, both as a shinobi and as a person. We cannot allow fear to dictate our actions."
Slowly, the tension began to dissipate. Each council member reflected on Hiruzen's words, a faint glimmer of hope emerging from the tumult.
"We must meet again," Hiruzen continued, his voice more tempered now. "I want everyone to consider how we can best provide for Naruto's training and upbringing in a way that honors both Minato and Kushina. Let's think of ways to build a support network around him."
With that, Hiruzen stood, his authority reestablished, and turned to leave the chamber. "Meeting adjourned."
As the members began to file out, Danzo lingered, his expression shrouded in shadows. "This isn't over, Hiruzen," he warned, his voice low and menacing. "You may think you've won, but there are greater forces at play. Be careful where you tread."
Hiruzen's expression hardened, but he didn't respond. He simply walked away, resolute in his mission to protect the child who was the hope of Konoha, even if it meant standing against those who would seek to manipulate him.