It was, by any estimate, a plain room.
Featureless, if well-made, wooden walls, a blue carpet that covered every inch of the floor, a low table, and four cushioned seats of red leather. In another place and under another man's ownership, it would have been a meager private office for entertaining business guests and brokering deals. Instead, it was a highly secure, secret place buried deep beneath the grand Hokage Residence that towered over the rest of Konoha. The paths leading there were few, and none save him knew all of them—well, except perhaps one other.
Before speaking to the Fire Daimyo, before addressing the clan leaders or jonin, this was where Hiruzen held his most private councils, where he decided on matters of utmost secrecy and significance. It was where he had decided the fates of tens of thousands of men, women, and children across thirty years as Hokage.
He was starting to feel every bit of those years, especially with events as dire as those of late—especially after recounting what Jiraiya had told him, confirming and expanding upon Lady Shima's original account of Kirigakure's downfall and its perpetrator.
And we thought peace was near, Hiruzen thought with a mix of sadness and weariness as he leaned back in his seat and tried to find some comfort from the pipe he chewed on.
He looked between two of the room's four occupants, each seated to his right and left, respectively, and waited to see who would speak first. The fourth one, directly across the table from him, he knew would speak last.
"To think that one of the Five Great Shinobi Villages would fall," Koharu said first. "Not since the First Hokage distributed the nine Bijuu has an event of such scale occurred."
"And not to us, or any of the other Great Nations," Homura spoke next, wiping at his glasses. "But to some… unknown attacker, one who, if Jiraiya's account holds true, has no idea of what he even destroyed or what jutsu are."
Hiruzen studied them both for a moment. Time had touched them both in its ways—wrinkles across their faces, gray hairs steadily outnumbering the black and brown, the almost imperceptible ways their movements had slowed. But one thing hadn't changed: their frightening ability to speak of such matters as calmly as one might discuss the weather.
"Jiraiya exaggerates many things," Hiruzen replied, eyeing the two of them. "But not matters like these. This new adversary, this Sukuna, is something we cannot ignore or leave alone, particularly since he showed an obvious interest in our own village. He will almost certainly make a move on the Land of Fire next."
"No small bit of the blame must fall on Jiraiya's shoulders for that," Koharu replied, her black eyes meeting Hiruzen's. "He was to go there and discover the truth behind Kirigakure's fate, not fight the cause of it or draw its attention to us."
"Jiraiya saw a threat to the entire shinobi world and chose to try and stop it before it could get worse. He risked everything for that, even though he failed," Hiruzen said, a touch of coldness in his voice. "Besides, the battle wasn't for nothing. We've learned much of Sukuna's abilities, and we know his next target. Would you prefer this Sukuna to appear at random somewhere else, wreaking havoc while we are completely lost in the dark?"
"Setting aside the validity of Jiraiya's actions," Homura replied, defusing some of the tension. "We must decide how to prepare for this crisis. The border patrols at the eastern border must be strengthened at once. If Sukuna dares to cross the sea and enter the Land of Fire, word of it must reach the village immediately."
"But we must be careful how we move our forces," Koharu interjected. "The war is still not over. When the other villages notice our troop movements, they will strike at us while we bolster the east."
Ohnoki wouldn't make a move—not at first. That much was clear to all. Suna and Kumo were a different story entirely.
The former, seen by many as the poorest of the Five Great Nations, had never forgiven Konoha's shinobi for being chosen by the Wind Daimyo for missions over Suna's, especially in the years leading up to the Second Great War. This, combined with a desire to claim vast portions of the fertile southwestern territory of the Land of Fire, resulted in decades of bloody back-and-forths across the Lands of Rivers and, particularly, the Rain.
Kumogakure was a different beast—one that always felt the need to prove its strength. Despite boasting the highest number of shinobi among all the villages and investing more in its military than any other, Kumo was never satisfied. They were always out to prove something, to take down a perceived threat before it could emerge. And if they couldn't, they'd steal and use it for their own, as they tried to do with Kushina and the Nine-Tails some ten years ago.
Across the table, while Koharu and Homura discussed how to reorganize their forces without provoking simmering hostilities, Hiruzen watched the gears turning in Danzo's head—and he knew he wouldn't like the result.
"This Sukuna is a monster, my friends. We must fight him with one of our own."
Hiruzen scowled, catching the fleeting smile on that scarred, bandaged face, but he remained silent.
"Kirigakure was home to many formidable shinobi, yet in their greatest time of need, their strongest weapon, the Three-Tails, wasn't present. An inferior beast compared to our Nine-Tails, but powerful all the same. If they hadn't let it slip through their fingers, their village wouldn't have been destroyed, and their people wouldn't have been devoured by a degenerate creature."
The Three-Tails, like all Bijuu, was a constant struggle to control. Kirigakure had lost control of it—and its jinchūriki—many times. The most recent instance occurred half a year ago, when the beast rampaged across the islands between the Lands of Mist and Fire, setting many of them aflame before disappearing beneath the waves long before its intended strike force ever reached Konoha shinobi. Even so, their men had closely observed the event and confirmed that the Mist had indeed lost their deterrent.
He's not wrong on that account, Hiruzen begrudgingly admitted, even as he anticipated—and disliked—where Danzo would steer the conversation next.
"For decades, the strongest of the Bijuu has been under Konoha's control, just as the First Hokage intended," Danzo continued, glancing at Homura and Koharu. "It's no coincidence that he kept it here, even as he sold off most of the others. Yet, while other villages have had success using their deterrents as actual weapons, why is our jinchūriki kept in a gilded cage? Why is Kushina Uzumaki wasting her potential as an asset to our village, pining after that boy of Jiraiya's, while Han the Steam Ninja and Roshi of the Lava Style lay waste to entire battlefields in an instant?"
"You've answered your own question, Danzo," Hiruzen replied, watching him closely through the gray trails of smoke curling from his mouth. "The Nine-Tails is the most powerful of the Bijuu—a power that, once unleashed, would destroy not only our enemies but us as well. Only the First Hokage could control its might, and he is no longer with us. To throw Kushina at Sukuna would risk a catastrophe the likes of which hasn't been seen in living memory."
A pang of sadness struck Hiruzen. Despite all he had accomplished as Hokage, a small part of him couldn't help but wonder how his predecessors might have fared in his place.
Danzo's smile returned, and Hiruzen didn't bother hiding his scowl in response.
"A strange thing to say, old friend," Danzo pressed. "Have I been wrong, then, in assuming the seal work you and Minato have done was for nothing? As I understood it, your efforts to unearth the secrets of the Uzumaki Clan were meant to strengthen the seal. To allow Kushina to step beyond the barrier of Konoha and, perhaps, even gain control over the Nine-Tails?"
It was. After the near-breaking of the seal last year, there had been intense debate about what to do with Kushina. If not for Minato's near-sacrifice, it was certain the Nine-Tails would have broken free and attacked the village. But the boy, clever and determined, had approached the elders before his wounds had even fully healed and began outlining his plan.
He had managed to strengthen the seal even as the Nine-Tails had punched a hole through his chest. Minato had studied the Uzumaki secrets tirelessly, and his prolonged recovery afforded him more time than usual to refine his techniques. His modifications, combined with Kushina's own jutsu, had forced the fox back into its cage with greater strength than before.
Hiruzen had joined Minato in these studies, and together they had uncovered no small number of the Uzumaki Clan's secrets—techniques of all-powerful sealing that could cost a man as much as his own soul.
"Minato has achieved great strides in his efforts," Hiruzen said, smiling with pride. "He's an incredible asset to our village. Not since Lord Hashirama himself have I seen a master of fūinjutsu like him."
Koharu and Homura's composed demeanors cracked, leaving them with owlish expressions. Danzo's smile vanished, replaced by a deep scowl.
"But his work is far from complete. Kushina may now be able to leave the barrier, but true control of the Nine-Tails still eludes us. The sheer magnitude of its malice and the overwhelming force of its chakra are beyond what any ordinary human can manage. At best, you'd be sending a talented kunoichi to her death without achieving anything. At worst? You might destroy Sukuna, only for the Nine-Tails to turn on us next—and this time, we wouldn't have a strong enough vessel to hold it anymore."
The Uzumaki clan was scattered across the world. Some of their blood ran through Konoha still, but few in number, and none had the constitution of Kushina. Lord Hashirama understood the Nine-Tails power well when he chose Lady Mito to serve as its jinchuriki.
"Then what do you suggest, Lord Third?" Koharu asked, her composure recovered.
Hiruzen chewed on his pipe thoughtfully, letting a pause linger in the air. I would convene a Kage Summit, if circumstances weren't against me.
There had been internal discussions about this—not only in Konoha but in most of the Five Great Villages, as Hiruzen had learned from agents in other countries. The war had exhausted them all, and open fighting had given way to posturing standoffs at borders or small skirmishes. Hiruzen doubted peace would last long, but even a few years of it could have done them good.
Without an agreement between all five Kage, there's no chance of that happening now. Even if the Mizukage's total silence were ignored, organizing such a meeting would take weeks, if not months, of preparation and require a neutral land to serve as host. Hiruzen let out a quiet sigh. And they'd never take me on my word alone. Nobody will believe Kirigakure is annihilated until they see it with their own eyes. If they'd seen what Jiraiya had, we might already be leading a joint force against Sukuna.
"Lord Danzo said that we need a monster to fight this new threat. I agree—that's why I'm heading to the eastern border."
Koharu and Homura's surprise was apparent but, as always, fleeting. Danzo's single dark eye glinted across the room.
"You are powerful, Hiruzen," Koharu said. "The strongest shinobi we've had in many decades. But even you could not destroy an entire enemy village on your own. Men of that caliber no longer exist in this world."
"I may not be able to match Sukuna's destructive power. But that doesn't make it an unwinnable battle. He's ignorant of the shinobi ways. If Jiraiya's assertion is correct—and I see no reason to doubt it—he doesn't understand even a tenth of what one can accomplish with chakra." Hiruzen grinned. "And as you all know, I've got something of a reputation for having lots of tricks up my sleeves."
Two of his former teammates smiled back. Danzo remained silent, as unmoving as a statue. He never did like people calling me The Professor or God of Shinobi. It makes me sound too similar to Lord Hashirama.
"Besides, when a threat of this magnitude encroaches on our lands, it is the duty of the Hokage—and no one else—to stop it. I won't sit idly by while that creature cuts a bloody swath through the Land of Fire."
"We're leaving our forces where they are, then?" Homura asked.
Hiruzen nodded. "Exactly where they are. But I want our men stationed by the eastern sea to enter high alert. The squad commanders there are to be informed of Sukuna's appearance and his threat level. They are not to engage him but to flee on sight. There's no sense in throwing their lives away in a futile battle. Word of this may reach the other villages, but not quickly enough for them to cause trouble for us—something I'm counting on you to handle, Lord Danzo."
His oldest, one-time friend raised an eyebrow. "Suppress the information? You surprise me, Hiruzen. I would have thought you'd be making moves to inform the other villages about Kirigakure's fall. At the very least, you might let rumors and hushed whispers spread to turn them to our side."
"Rumors would be ignored or, worse, embolden them and cause us further troubles. There's…" He sighed. "No trust left between the villages. If they learned of Kirigakure's fall, they'd trip over themselves to gain some advantage from it—especially Kumogakure. No, for the purpose of mitigating chaos, we keep what happened there to ourselves… for now. Once Sukuna is dealt with, we'll decide what to do about the Land of Mist."
The meeting persisted for several more hours. Commander Shikaku Nara, though only 23 years old, had proven himself a cunning, intelligent, and capable Jōnin. With his recent return to the village, he had been chosen to oversee day-to-day affairs in Hiruzen's absence. Patrols around Konoha would be doubled, and preparations would be made to evacuate the villagers should Hiruzen's fight against Sukuna go horribly wrong. Danzo's ROOT forces would ensure that little to none of this information reached the other villages.
Hiruzen himself decided to leave the day after the meeting, at night to mask his departure. He wanted to reach the eastern sea garrison quickly and take Sukuna down before the monster could make any headway into the mainland.
He still had a few people left to see, though.
"I don't like this, sensei," Jiraiya said, glaring at some distant point only he could see. Sundown was fast approaching, and the otherwise plain hospital room was bathed in hues of orange and yellow. "If anybody can beat him, it's you. But I still wish you weren't going. There's too much we don't know about this guy. There's no way he took down a whole village with just shadow tricks and that freaky pet of his."
"Danzo suggested sending Kushina out to fight him."
"Danzo's a cold bastard who'd snap his own kid's neck to get what he wants. He knows Minato's got the potential to become Hokage someday. Getting Kushina killed would derail that. And if his scheme worked, you'd look like an idiot for holding her back all this time. I'd bet the only good eye I've got left that he's rooting for Sukuna to kill you. Screw that old miserable bastard."
Hiruzen would have laughed at that under different circumstances. Jiraiya had never hidden his feelings about Danzo, and the animosity was mutual. But at the mention of his eye, Hiruzen found his gaze drawn to the bandaged face of his student. He wasn't a medical ninja, but he'd seen enough: behind that tight web of bandages, Jiraiya's face was slashed across, his left eye still there but useless for the rest of his life.
Jiraiya would live. He'd heal. But he would never be the same. Hiruzen felt his chest tighten, another regret joining the mountain of them he had amassed over the years.
"Stop it. I'm fine."
Hiruzen was sorely tempted to take out his pipe, but he could never bring himself to light it in a hospital.
"I said I'm fine." Jiraiya turned his head, wincing at the effort, and tried to force one of his trademark grins. "I've been beaten up way worse than this. And besides, chicks dig scars."
"So you've said," Hiruzen sighed. "But it's never easy for a teacher to see his students hurt like this. No matter how old or strong they get, that part of you that wants to protect them from harm never goes away."
"Hey, if anybody's to blame for this, it's me. I should've taken that bastard Sukuna out right away, and I definitely shouldn't have painted a target on Konoha's back."
They fell silent after that. Outside, the sun slipped further and further to the east.
"Jiraiya," Hiruzen said after a while, "if things go poorly, I need you to take over from me. Konoha needs a Hokage."
The two of them had spoken about this before, and Jiraiya always vehemently said no. He had no interest in the position, though Hiruzen believed he would make an excellent Hokage and made it plain. Orochimaru, despite being the most talented of Hiruzen's students, had chosen a path far too close to Danzo's. And Tsunade, who had pioneered and led Konoha's Medical Corps, was lost, adrift in booze and regrets.
Jiraiya didn't react immediately, his gaze distant again. Hiruzen almost thought he hadn't been heard when Jiraiya finally spoke.
"I'll hold the position until this mess is sorted out," Jiraiya said, closing his eyes as if already weary from the task. "Then let some other sap wear the hat. Better me than some other people we know, right? That's the best I can offer."
Hiruzen smiled and placed a hand on his bandaged shoulder. "Thank you."
"Just do me a favor, alright, old man?" Jiraiya's gaze turned back to him. "Come back and win, so we can celebrate this over some drinks, yeah?"
"It's a deal."
Jiraiya wasn't the only person Hiruzen intended to visit before leaving. His wife was out on field duty, helping with a crisis in the north of the Land of Fire after an earthquake had destroyed many settlements there. He wouldn't see her, or their eldest, before going off to the battlefield. But he would see their youngest.
Despite it being close to midnight, Asuma was busy at the residence. His brother had gifted the boy a pair of trench knives as a gift for his enrollment in the academy, and Asuma wasted no time—or dummies in the dojo—practicing with them.
Hiruzen stayed hidden, watching the boy practice his swipes and jabs, his bare feet thumping loudly against the mat. The target dummy was steadily slashed, stabbed, and beaten through. Hiruzen smiled at the sight, noting Asuma's stamina and strength despite his age.
"Asuma," he eventually called out when the boy stopped to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
His son turned around, eyes widening. Hiruzen could understand why—it wasn't every day he was dressed for war. Upon returning home, he'd put aside the robes of his office and donned his old war attire: a black jumpsuit of ninja mesh armor and gauntlets he'd worn through countless battles.
It felt good to wear it again, as though he were back in his own skin. The weight of years fell off him almost immediately.
"Woah," Asuma said, rushing over to give his father a closer look. "I haven't seen you wear that in a million years!"
"Two, to be precise," Hiruzen laughed, then sobered and knelt before him. "I'm leaving on an important mission, Asuma. Very few know of it, and its importance is paramount to the village. You can't tell anyone you saw me leave, understood?"
"Of course," Asuma nodded, trying to mirror Hiruzen's serious expression. "A shinobi always knows how to keep a secret!"
"Well said," Hiruzen nodded in grave approval, then spread his arms. "But he also knows how to say goodbye to his father."
Before Asuma could react, Hiruzen wrapped him tightly in his arms. Asuma laughed, struggling at first but eventually giving in.
"Come on, let me go! This is embarrassing!"
"Nobody's watching us."
"Yeah, but… come on."
"Alright, alright," Hiruzen said, releasing him and standing back up. "You know, some boys show a lot of concern for their fathers when they go out to fight."
"Why would I be worried about you, Dad?" Asuma smiled, shrugging. "You're the strongest guy in the whole world!"