I dont own Naruto.
Hiruzen Sarutobi lit his pipe as he watched from the window of his office, the sunset bathing the village in a warm orange glow. Even though night was approaching, the streets were still full of life. Families were out enjoying meals, workers were heading home to relax after a day of hard labor, and academy students were either playing tag on the rooftops or practicing their parkour skills—especially if a teacher had given them a challenge, which made Hiruzen chuckle quietly to himself. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the peaceful state of his village, while enjoying the taste of an exotic blend of tobacco from the Land of Tea—a gift from his wayward student.
Hiruzen Sarutobi often reflected on his relationship with his son, Asuma. They had always been close, yet distant in ways that were difficult for the old Hokage to grasp. Asuma had a rebellious streak that Hiruzen admired but also worried about. When Asuma left the village to join the Twelve Guardian Ninja, Hiruzen couldn't help but feel the sting of his son's need to carve his own path, away from the weight of being the Hokage's son. Still, they kept in contact during Asuma's time with the Guardians. Hiruzen would receive letters—short but thoughtful, detailing Asuma's experiences in the outside world, the political tensions, and sometimes even casual notes about the culture and landscapes of distant summon ,the great monkey king Enma also informed him that his son also trained regularly with the summons of the monkey realm something that in the past he was always reluctant to do. Though their conversations were sparse, the letters gave Hiruzen a sense of pride. He saw that Asuma was growing, not just as a shinobi but as a man who could navigate the complexities of life beyond Konoha. In those moments, despite the physical distance, Hiruzen felt closer to his son, knowing that while Asuma had chosen a different path, he was still connected to his home—and to his father. There was an unspoken understanding between them, built on respect and love, even if it was rarely voiced.
Hiruzen Sarutobi took another deep breath, savoring the familiar warmth of the tobacco as it curled in the cool evening air. His eyes wandered across the village, now bathed in the soft light of dusk, and a sense of quiet pride filled him. Konoha had always been his home, but it was more than that—it was his life's work. The village had endured so much, from the founding days when the First and Second Hokage fought to establish peace, to the chaos of the Great Ninja Wars that followed. It had been a fragile dream at times, one he had carried with him since he first became Hokage, though the weight of it often felt overwhelming.
The village had grown in ways he never could have imagined, but it hadn't always been easy. Hiruzen remembered the turbulent years, the loss of dear friends and comrades, and the sacrifices made to keep Konoha standing. He recalled the day he had to make the impossible decision to step back as Hokage, entrusting the future to Minato. Yet, no matter how much the village had changed, its spirit remained the same. The Will of Fire burned brightly in every generation that came after, a flame that had endured through war, loss, and tragedy.
But with each passing day, Hiruzen couldn't shake the sense of regret that clung to him, especially in moments like these, when the village was at peace and he was left alone with his thoughts. How many times had he failed to protect his people? The Uchiha clan's tragic end, the Nine-Tails' rampage followed by his successors death, the rise of Orochimaru—his once-promising student turned rogue. All these failures weighed on him, a reminder that even with all his wisdom and experience, he hadn't always made the right choices.
Still, as he watched the children playing in the streets, their laughter echoing in the distance, he felt a glimmer of hope. The village had survived. Even through the hardest times, Konoha had rebuilt itself, just as Asuma had grown and found his own way in life. Perhaps the village and its people would do the same, continuing to thrive despite the trials ahead. With that thought, Hiruzen smiled softly. He had always believed in the strength of Konoha's future, even if it sometimes slipped from his grasp. That belief was what had kept him going all these years, what had kept him standing tall as the village's protector. And as long as that flame continued to burn, there was still hope for a brighter tomorrow.
Hiruzen's peaceful reflection was interrupted by a hurried knock at the door—more forceful and urgent than before. He furrowed his brow, the tranquil moment slipping away as the village's burdens came rushing back to him. There was a brief pause, and then the door swung open without waiting for his response. It was unusual for anyone to approach him with such haste at this hour unless something significant had happened.
Standing at the threshold was one of his trusted ANBU, panting slightly, a clear sign that the message they carried couldn't wait.
"Hokage-sama," the ANBU said, bowing respectfully before continuing, "Asuma Sarutobi has returned. He's waiting outside."
The words struck Hiruzen more sharply than he had expected. Asuma had only just been here, a few weeks prior, speaking of the growing unrest within the Twelve Guardian Ninja. The political tensions had escalated into outright conflict—a schism between those who wished to seize power for themselves and those who wanted to maintain the balance of the Daimyo's authority. Hiruzen had known that Asuma would have to face those decisions, to make hard choices about where his loyalty truly lay, but he had not anticipated his son's return so soon, especially without word of what had transpired.
"Send him in," Hiruzen replied, his voice steady despite the concern twisting in his chest.
The ANBU vanished as quickly as they had arrived, and moments later, Asuma stepped through the door. But this time, there was no casual greeting, no playful "Old man" like before. Asuma looked different—hardened, weary, and carrying the weight of whatever had unfolded during his time away. His clothes were dirtied from travel, his face unshaven, and there was a tension in his eyes that spoke of battle, of betrayal, and of choices that no son should have to make.
"Asuma…" Hiruzen began, but the words felt inadequate. He stood up from behind his desk, searching his son's face for answers.
Asuma shut the door behind him, exhaling deeply. "It's over. The Guardians… they're finished."
Hiruzen's heart sank. He had hoped for a peaceful resolution, but in his long years, he had seen how idealistic hopes often crumbled under the weight of ambition and human frailty. "Tell me what happened."
Asuma walked over to the window, his back to Hiruzen as he gazed out at the village he had left behind. "The division within the Guardians ran deeper than anyone realized. Some of them wanted more power, to control the Daimyo, to reshape the balance between the Fire Country and Konoha. At first, it was just talk. But then it turned into a coup—sabotage, assassinations, chaos." He paused, gripping the windowsill tightly. "I couldn't stand by and watch that happen. I had to pick a side."
Hiruzen knew what that meant. Asuma had never been one for half-measures. If he had taken a stand, it meant the situation had spiraled beyond diplomacy.
"I tried to stop it peacefully at first," Asuma continued, his voice low and strained. "But when words failed, all that was left was the sword. I—" He hesitated, as though the weight of what he was about to say was too much. "I fought against my comrades, people I trained with. In the end, we couldn't save the Guardians. They've disbanded… and I came back because I realized there's nothing left for me out there."
Hiruzen's heart ached for his son. He knew all too well the pain of watching dreams crumble, of having to make impossible choices that would haunt him for years. He stepped forward, placing a hand on Asuma's shoulder. "You did what you had to. You protected the village, and that's all that matters."
Asuma turned to face his father, the exhaustion in his eyes now mixed with a hint of something else—perhaps a need for reassurance, for understanding. "But I couldn't save the people I was supposed to protect."
Hiruzen looked at his son, seeing the young boy he had raised, now a man burdened by the same responsibilities that had weighed on his own shoulders for so many years. "Sometimes, Asuma, even the greatest strength isn't enough to stop the tide of conflict. The important thing is that you stood by your principles, and you came home."
For a long moment, they stood in silence, father and son, both having seen too much, both having borne the burden of leadership in their own ways. Finally, Asuma sighed, the tension easing from his posture slightly.
"I'm not sure what's next for me, old man. But… being here, in Konoha, it feels like the right place to start again."
Hiruzen smiled softly, pride swelling in his chest despite the sorrow that lingered in the air. "Then stay. There's always a place for you here, Asuma. Konoha will always be your home."
Asuma nodded, the fire in his eyes still tempered by the weariness of his journey, but there was something new now—a quiet determination, a sense that despite all the turmoil, he had found his way back. Hiruzen, too, felt a spark of hope. The village would face more trials, but with his son beside him, perhaps the flame of the Will of Fire would burn brighter than ever.
Asuma walked out of his father's office, his mind heavy with memories both real and strange. The village around him, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, felt distant—as though the Konoha he had returned to wasn't quite the same one he had left behind. Yet, a deeper sense told him that it wasn't the village that had changed, but him.
The memories. Those impossible flashes of the future. He could still feel them lurking just beneath his consciousness, like pieces of a puzzle only half-formed. It had all started so subtly at first, creeping into his dreams during his time with the Guardians. He had dismissed them then, writing them off as the anxieties of a shinobi who had lost his way. But now, after the events with the Guardians had unfolded—and the vividness of the visions he had just experienced—he couldn't ignore them anymore.
They were real. He was certain of it now.
As he strolled through the quiet streets, his mind wandered back to the time he had first sensed the shift. It had been during a particularly brutal training session with the other Guardians. There had been rumors of political unrest within the group, and Asuma, ever the protector at heart, had thrown himself into his training with a renewed vigor. He had trained before, of course—he was the son of the Third Hokage, after all—but this was different. Something in him had driven him to push harder than ever before, as though preparing for battles that hadn't yet come to pass. At the time, he hadn't questioned the urgency he felt, but looking back now, he realized it had been the influence of those strange memories, guiding him toward something greater.
That's when he'd reached out to Enma.
Asuma had always respected the powerful summon that had fought alongside his father, but he'd avoided seeking the monkey king's help for his own purposes. In his youth, he'd been determined to walk a different path from Hiruzen, to prove that he wasn't just living in the shadow of the Third. But during his time with the Guardians, the need for power—true, untapped power—had become undeniable. He'd begun to see that avoiding his father's legacy wasn't the answer. In fact, it had been in a desperate attempt to protect the ideals of balance and peace within the Fire Country that he had finally sought Enma's guidance.
He remembered the day vividly. He had stood before the summon scroll, feeling a sense of foreboding and guilt, as though summoning Enma would somehow be betraying his determination to stay out of his father's long shadow. But something—something deeper, perhaps these buried memories—had urged him forward. When Enma had appeared, he had offered no judgment, no lecture on how Asuma had waited too long to call upon him. Instead, he had offered the strength and wisdom that only decades of battle alongside the Third Hokage could bring.
Enma had trained him in techniques that Asuma had previously shied away from. The abilities that Hiruzen had mastered—the mastery of multiple elemental natures, the advanced transformations of the monkey summons, and even the Sarutobi clan's forbidden techniques—had all been passed on. Asuma had always excelled in wind release, but under Enma's guidance, he had pushed beyond the limits of what he had thought possible, refining his wind nature to devastating levels and even beginning to explore other elements. He had mastered fire jutsu that rivaled even his father's and dabbled in techniques that gave him an edge in battle far beyond the capabilities of the average shinobi.
All of it had been to prepare for a fight that, at the time, he hadn't even understood.
Asuma now wondered if those subconscious memories of the future had been what drove him to take the Guardians' conflict more seriously. He had known something darker was on the horizon, something more than just the political upheaval surrounding the Daimyo. That looming sense of doom had pushed him harder than anything else. It had been there, in the back of his mind, guiding his hand every time he picked up his trench knives or unleashed his wind-infused chakra.
And now, standing in Konoha, those once-buried memories were flooding back in full force. He knew about Naruto's future struggles, about the threats of the Akatsuki, about the rise of enemies far more dangerous than anything the Guardian Twelve could have predicted. The weight of it all threatened to crush him, but at the same time, there was something else: clarity. He understood now why he had fought so hard, why he had thrown himself into mastering every technique, and why he had made the hard choices that had ultimately led to the Guardians' dissolution. It had all been leading him back to Konoha.
He wasn't done. His journey, as exhausting as it had been, wasn't over.
Asuma paused on a rooftop, looking out over the village. The Hokage Monument loomed in the distance, his father's face carved into the mountain, a constant reminder of the legacy that hung over him. But for the first time in years, Asuma didn't feel suffocated by it. The future wasn't a burden anymore—it was an opportunity. He had seen the battles to come, seen the role he would play in shaping the next generation, especially in guiding students like Shikamaru, Ino, and Choji. His death might be a part of that future, but it wasn't something to fear.
If anything, it was something to embrace. His father had always taught him that the Will of Fire burned brightest in those willing to sacrifice everything for the village and the people they loved. Asuma had seen that in Naruto's future, in Shikamaru's determination, and now, he understood it in a way he never had before.
He took a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill his lungs. There was no denying the road ahead would be difficult, but he felt a sense of purpose that he hadn't felt in years. Perhaps, subconsciously, those memories had always been there, pushing him, guiding him, even when he didn't realize it. But now, they were his to bear consciously, and with that knowledge came a responsibility he could no longer avoid.
"Asuma Sarutobi," he muttered to himself, a small smirk forming on his lips as he flicked his cigarette into the night. "Looks like you've still got a lot of work to do."
With renewed resolve, he turned toward the Sarutobi compound, ready to face whatever the future had in store—knowing full well that the Will of Fire would continue to burn long after he was gone.
Hiruzen Sarutobi sat back in his chair, the soft glow of the village lights reflecting in his tired eyes. He exhaled slowly, watching the last traces of smoke from his pipe curl into the night air. Asuma had just left the office, and Hiruzen could still feel the tension lingering from their conversation, though it was different this time. His son had returned after many years away, and yet, Hiruzen couldn't shake the feeling that the man who had stood before him was somehow changed, more focused—driven by something deeper than the turmoil with the Guardians.
Hiruzen puffed thoughtfully on his pipe, his gaze drifting toward the open window. The village, as peaceful as it appeared, was brimming with life and complexities. His eyes narrowed as a faint shimmer of chakra filled the room, and with a puff of smoke, Enma appeared on his shoulder in his smaller, more casual form. The Monkey King glanced at Hiruzen, his usually boisterous demeanor unusually subdued.
"You noticed it too, didn't you?" Hiruzen said quietly, his voice heavy with the weight of understanding.
Enma grunted, folding his arms. "That boy… he's different now. I've trained him—he called on me, finally. It wasn't the same Asuma I once knew. Something's driving him… something beyond the obvious."
Hiruzen's heart sank slightly. He'd felt it as well, the changes in his son, though it was difficult to put into words. Asuma had always been headstrong, determined to find his own path, to escape the long shadow cast by his father. But now, it was as if Asuma had embraced the very legacy he had once sought to avoid. He had returned not just as a shinobi but as a man fully aware of what lay ahead, prepared for battles that hadn't yet begun.
"During his time with the Guardians," Hiruzen began, voice contemplative, "he changed, didn't he? Not just because of the conflict, but because he felt something coming—something bigger than politics or personal strife."
Enma shifted, his tail flicking behind him. "You're not wrong. There's a certain… urgency to his training, an edge to the way he fought and the jutsu he sought to master. He wasn't content with his wind release anymore. He pushed further—fire, lightning, earth even techniques you and I both know are dangerous to dabble with. I didn't question it at the time, but now… now I wonder what truly drove him."
Hiruzen inhaled deeply, his thoughts racing. Asuma had grown, both in strength and wisdom, but it wasn't just the battle-hardened shinobi that concerned him. No, it was the strange sense of foresight, the unspoken knowledge that Asuma seemed to carry in his eyes—the weight of future events, as if he had glimpsed battles far beyond what even Hiruzen had prepared for.
He recalled the intensity in his son's gaze earlier that night, the way Asuma had spoken of responsibility, of the next generation, of protecting Konoha. There had been a clarity there that startled Hiruzen, as though Asuma knew more than he let on, more than he should. It was unnerving.
"Do you think," Hiruzen asked softly, "that he's seen something? Something we haven't? He spoke like a man who has already fought the battles ahead of him, like someone who knows the outcome."
Enma paused, his expression thoughtful. "I've fought by your side for decades, old man, and I've seen many things. But what I felt in Asuma… it was more than just the weariness of a soldier. It was almost as if he had already faced his fate. And accepted it."
The words sent a chill down Hiruzen's spine. He had spent his life fighting to protect Konoha, making impossible decisions, and watching as the generations under his watch bore the brunt of war. He knew all too well what it meant to foresee conflict, to carry the weight of knowing the inevitable. But this… this was different. It was as if Asuma had glimpsed something far darker, far more personal.
"Asuma was always one to avoid following in my footsteps," Hiruzen muttered, his eyes distant. "But now, he's walking a path so closely aligned with mine… it's unsettling. To seek out you, to master techniques he once dismissed—it's as though he's preparing for something only he understands."
Enma nodded grimly. "He even asked about you, Hiruzen. About your techniques. Not just the jutsu, but the philosophy behind them. Asuma never cared much for that before. Now… it's as if he's looking to understand everything you've done, every decision you've made."
A silence settled between them, the weight of the conversation heavy in the air. Hiruzen knew that the Sarutobi clan had always carried the burden of leadership, of making sacrifices for the greater good. It was a role he had borne all his life, but seeing it now in his son—seeing Asuma prepare for a future that felt all too grim—was something that pierced him deeply.
"Do you think he knows?" Hiruzen asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Knows how his story ends?"
Enma turned his head slightly, his golden eyes narrowing in thought. "Maybe he does. Or maybe he's just learned to accept that every shinobi's life is full of sacrifice. Whatever it is, Hiruzen, Asuma isn't running from it anymore. He's walking straight toward it."
The Third Hokage let out a long sigh, the weight of the years pressing down on him more than ever. Asuma had found his way, but in doing so, he had inherited a burden far heavier than any father would want for his son. The knowledge that his time was finite, that his fight would end, and that the next generation would carry on—this was the bitter truth that all leaders, all protectors, had to face.
"I only hope," Hiruzen said softly, "that when the time comes, Asuma will know that his sacrifices were not in vain. That the Will of Fire burns bright, even in the darkest of times."
Enma nodded solemnly, resting a hand on Hiruzen's shoulder. "He knows, old man. He's ready."
The Third Hokage closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the years, the village, and the future all at once. His son had changed, and perhaps, like him, Asuma had glimpsed the fragility of the world they were all fighting to protect. But through that fragility, there was strength. The Will of Fire would endure, as it always had.
Enma shifted slightly on Hiruzen's shoulder, his gaze distant as if recalling something from long ago. His voice, when he spoke again, carried a strange mix of nostalgia and concern.
"Truth be told, old man," Enma began, his tone unusually thoughtful, "Asuma reminds me of someone else. More than he reminds me of you, even." His golden eyes flickered with memories. "He reminds me of your father, Sasuke Sarutobi."
Hiruzen blinked at the mention of his father, a man who had long since passed but whose legacy still cast a long shadow. Sasuke Sarutobi had been a figure of immense respect, both within Konoha and among the wider shinobi world. He was known for his unwavering will, his strength in battle, the only monkey sage in history, and his sense of duty that went beyond even the ideals of the Will of Fire. Yet, despite the respect he commanded, Sasuke had been a distant figure, his personal relationships often strained by his relentless commitment to protecting the village.
"My father?" Hiruzen asked, a slight edge of curiosity in his voice. It wasn't often that Enma spoke of the past with such depth.
Enma nodded, his tail twitching as he thought. "Asuma's fire burns like Sasuke's did. There's a coldness to it, a sense of impending duty that weighs on him. He carries the same weight of knowing, the same quiet acceptance of his fate that Sasuke had. Your son, like your father, walks the path of a shinobi with his eyes wide open. It's more than just the training—it's his resolve."
The Monkey King's words hung in the air, stirring old memories in Hiruzen's mind. Sasuke had always been the type to see beyond the immediate battles, to understand the longer game. He had trained Hiruzen not just in jutsu but in the philosophy of leadership—how to bear the burden of decisions that could fracture a man's soul. Hiruzen had carried that burden well, but Asuma… he had once resisted it, preferring his own path, away from the expectations of being a Sarutobi. Now, though, something had changed.
"He's grown more serious," Enma continued, his voice lower. "More focused than I ever saw him before. The techniques he's seeking out, the way he's pushing his body and mind—it's the same drive I saw in Sasuke, that same desire to master everything, to be prepared for anything. But with Asuma, it feels… different. Almost as if he knows what's coming. Sasuke had the same sense, though not as sharply defined. It's eerie."
Asuma had returned to Konoha with new purpose, new clarity—and though Hiruzen didn't fully understand what had shaped his son's newfound resolve, he could only hope that, in the end, it would be enough to protect the future. The village. And the ones who would carry on the Sarutobi name long after both father and son were gone.
Hiruzen opened his eyes, his gaze drifting once again toward the window, toward the village he had sworn to protect all his life. His legacy, and now Asuma's, was tied to this place, and whatever the future held, they would face it together.
"May the Will of Fire guide us both," he murmured.