A New Path

The aftermath of the combined lightning jutsu from Harry and Sasuke had left the area in utter ruin. A swirling cloud of smoke and crackling energy hung in the air, and the earth scorched and split open in a massive crater. The air smelled of ozone, the earth still trembling from the power of the strike. Everything in its path had been leveled: trees, rocks, and even the summoning Orochimaru had called upon. But the two figures responsible for it—the ones who had unleashed the fury—were nowhere to be seen.

Tsunade stood frozen at the edge of the devastation, her heart hammering in her chest. Her golden eyes scanned through the thick smoke, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. She knew the power of Harry’s and Sasuke’s lightning jutsu, but she couldn’t fathom how it could have left them—them—in any shape to survive.

She called out, her voice breaking through the haze, “Sasuke! Harry!”

There was no answer. Her hands clenched at her sides, her fingers digging into her palms as panic began to creep into her chest. No, no, no... they couldn’t have—

Then, just as quickly as the doubt settled in, Tsunade’s eyes locked onto something within the crater. A patch of stillness amidst the chaos. She didn’t hesitate; she dashed forward, ignoring the sharp pain in her legs, and the raw tension in her back as she ran.

When she reached the edge of the crater, her stomach churned at the sight that greeted her.

Sasuke was lying sprawled out, his body at an unnatural angle. His eyes were shut, but there was a faint rise and fall in his chest, too subtle to be comforting. Harry, beside him, was even worse. Blood stained the dirt beneath them, the pale skin of his face a stark contrast against the crimson pooling at his side. His breathing was labored, each inhale and exhale ragged, and the darkness beneath his eyes told Tsunade all she needed to know—he was barely hanging on.

Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe. No. She had seen enough death in her time to recognize the signs. The faint pulse, the struggle of life clinging to the edge of a precipice... and yet, Tsunade couldn’t bring herself to believe it. Not them. Not Harry, not Sasuke. Not like this.

Tsunade's mind went blank for a moment before it snapped back into focus. No time to waste. She swallowed her fear, her throat tight as she steadied herself.

Her hand hovered over Harry first. She could see the pain etched into his features, even in unconsciousness. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she slammed down on her hesitation, focusing on the task at hand. Her chakra surged as she began her healing jutsu, steadying her breath. She needed to focus. Focus.

"Sasuke... Harry..." Her voice was tight, barely audible as she muttered their names as if hoping they would stir in response.

Behind her, she heard the pounding of footsteps. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Tsunade!” Jiraiya’s voice was frantic, but there was a calm urgency to it. His hand landed on her shoulder, but his eyes—those familiar, sharp eyes—darted to the figures in the crater. His heart sank at the sight of them. He knew the severity of the situation better than anyone. "Are they...?"

“They’re alive,” Tsunade bit out, not looking up, her hands continuing to weave chakra over Harry and Sasuke’s battered bodies. "But I’m not sure for how long."

Jiraiya’s gaze dropped to the two boys, his throat tightening. His fingers curled into fists at his side as he moved away from Tsunade, kneeling beside Sasuke. His voice cracked, barely above a whisper, “Sasuke...”

Naruto was at Harry’s side almost immediately. His usual brashness was nowhere to be found. His hands hovered over Harry’s chest, uncertain, trembling. His voice cracked, his words almost choking him. "Are they... are they going to be okay, Tsunade? Tell me they’re gonna be okay..."

His eyes were wide, filled with unshed tears that he was trying to suppress, trying to hold back. But it was so hard. The idea of losing Harry—his friend, his brother—was unbearable.

Sakura had approached but stopped just behind Naruto. She couldn’t look. She could barely stand the sight of blood, especially when it was from her teammates. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breathing shallow. She felt nauseous, her hands shaking.

"Please, please... just... please..." She couldn't even bring herself to look. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed into Jiraiya's arms, burying her face in his chest as a sob tore through her throat. She clung to him like a lifeline, her body trembling with the weight of her grief and fear.

Tsunade’s heart broke at the sight of her, but she couldn’t lose focus. Not yet. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing Sakura in Jiraiya’s arms, trying to keep herself together. But Tsunade couldn’t allow herself the luxury of such emotions—not while there was still a chance to save them.

"They’re fighters," Tsunade muttered, almost as if trying to convince herself as much as she was reassuring the others. "They won’t go down without a fight."

Jiraiya’s voice softened, and he placed a hand on her back, his tone both encouraging and weary. "I know. But what’s the damage?"

Tsunade didn't look at him as she continued her work. "Multiple broken ribs. Internal bleeding. Sasuke's chakra coils are barely functioning, and Harry’s chakra reserves are dangerously low. I can’t tell you much more without more time, but we need to move them."

Naruto's hand hovered over Harry’s shoulder, shaking. "Is there anything... anything we can do?"

Tsunade's eyes hardened, and she stood up, briefly glancing at Naruto and Sakura. "Stay back. I need room to heal them." Her voice was authoritative but tinged with concern. The clock was ticking, and every second they wasted was another chance for things to worsen.

Sakura squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe, to focus. "Please... please be okay."

Tsunade took a deep breath and focused every ounce of her chakra on the two boys. The raw, urgent power of her healing technique surged through Harry and Sasuke. Her hands trembled slightly with the effort, but she kept herself steady, her eyes narrowing in concentration.

Slowly, with agonizing precision, Tsunade worked on the most critical injuries first, stitching their bodies together with chakra as carefully as she could, even as the bitter smell of burnt flesh and blood lingered in the air. Every second felt like an eternity.

The silence was deafening as the others waited, holding their breaths.

Finally, Tsunade’s voice cut through the heavy air, her words barely more than a whisper.

"Don’t you dare die on me," she murmured, her eyes closing briefly, her voice firm and desperate.

As Tsunade continued her work, she could feel the pulse of life flickering within Harry and Sasuke, both far too fragile to be truly stable, but... still alive.

For now.

The world around Harry was dark, the kind of darkness that pressed in on all sides, a thick, suffocating blanket. His body felt light, almost weightless, and yet, he couldn’t quite feel himself. It was as if he existed and didn’t, all at once. His thoughts were hazy, disconnected.

And then, slowly, a soft, unfamiliar presence drifted into his awareness. It was a calm, serene feeling, like a gentle wind that caressed his skin without ever touching it. His eyes fluttered open, and what he saw before him made his breath catch in his throat.

A figure, standing tall and cloaked in shadow, its face is hidden, but its presence undeniable. The figure’s features were faint, and indistinct, like it was both there and not there at the same time. It was neither male nor female, neither young nor old. But the warmth radiating from it felt like home.

"Ah," the figure spoke softly, its voice echoing in his head, like a murmur just above a whisper. "You’re awake."

Harry blinked, confusion knitting his brow. “Where am I?” His voice sounded strange, and distant, even to his own ears. It felt like his body wasn’t his like he was detached from himself.

The figure—Death—smiled gently, an expression so kind it almost didn’t belong in the place they were. “You are in limbo,” Death explained, its tone soothing, like a mother speaking to a child. “You are between life and the afterlife, Harry.”

Harry’s head swam as he tried to process the words. Limbo? The afterlife? Was he... dead?

"How am I not dead?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He had expected this moment, but hearing it out loud, it sounded... wrong. The question felt heavy on his tongue.

Death chuckled softly, a sound like wind through trees. "You didn’t die, Harry," it said, its voice almost tender. "You have two souls inside you."

Harry blinked, his confusion deepening. "Two souls?" he echoed, his voice trembling. He couldn’t quite comprehend what Death was saying, but it felt significant.

Death nodded, its form shifting slightly as if to show Harry something. And then, there it was—something he hadn’t expected to see: the faint outline of a soul, dark and twisted, pulsing in the air before him. Harry’s eyes widened.

“That,” Death explained, “is the soul of Voldemort. It resided in you, within your scar.”

Harry felt a chill spread through him, a creeping discomfort at the sight of the soul. He didn’t know how to feel about it. It had been a part of him for so long, had haunted him for years, and yet it was nothing but a twisted shadow now.

"How... how did it die?" Harry whispered. He already had a sinking feeling, but hearing it aloud would make it final.

Death’s smile was gentle, almost regretful. “The strike you made—the one with Sasuke—Voldemort’s soul took the brunt of the damage. It was destroyed in the process. The soul, too weak to withstand such power, is no more.”

Harry’s heart clenched at the words. Part of him, the part that had lived through so many years of torment because of Voldemort, wanted to feel relief, but it was hollow. He wasn’t sure how to feel. But more than that, a feeling he didn’t expect to rise within him was grief. Grief for the lost soul that had once been a part of him, even if it had been the very source of his pain.

Death seemed to sense Harry’s turmoil and stepped closer, its form shifting to surround him in warmth. Gently, it took Harry in its arms, cradling him as if he were a child. Harry could feel the comforting weight of its presence, the sense of peace that seemed to permeate the space between them.

“Harry,” Death spoke softly, its voice full of a strange, timeless kindness. “It is not time for you to go yet. You still have a path to walk.”

Harry’s breath hitched as tears began to well in his eyes, his throat tight with emotion. He thought—he thought he was going to die without ever seeing the people he loved again.

But now... now he was still here. He had a chance to return.

“I…” Harry’s voice wavered, his chest tightening as the weight of everything threatened to overwhelm him. “I get to live again?”

Death nodded, a deep, sorrowful smile on its face. “Yes, Harry. It is not your time. There is more for you to do. More for you to give.”

Harry closed his eyes, the tears finally slipping down his cheeks. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

As if sensing the moment was nearing, Death’s tone shifted. “Before you go, there is something your parents want you to know.”

Harry’s heart stopped. His parents? He could hear their voices then, faint whispers like a breeze. Lily and James Potter. Their voices, full of love and pride, echoed in his mind.

“We love you, Harry. So…. So much.”

Harry’s heart swelled, an overwhelming rush of warmth flooding him. His parents, after all this time, were still with him. The ache of their absence, the grief that had weighed him down for so long, lessened. He felt it, their love as if it had always been there, even in the darkest moments of his life.

“Go,” Death murmured softly. “It is time.”

Harry nodded, his heart full. He didn’t need to say anything more. He knew what awaited him—what he had to go back to.

With a final, soft breath, Harry’s vision blurred, the world around him shifted, and then he was gone.

Harry gasped as his eyes snapped open. The world was spinning, and he coughed, the taste of blood still heavy on his tongue. His chest burned with every breath he took, but it was alive. He was alive. He blinked rapidly, his vision swimming as he tried to make sense of what was happening. His surroundings were blurred, but he could hear voices. Familiar voices.

"Harry?" It was Naruto’s voice, full of panic. "Are you—are you okay?"

Harry glanced up, blinking against the harsh light of the world around him. And there, beside him, was Sasuke. Still unconscious, but... alive, at least.

He glanced at Tsunade, Jiraiya, and Sakura, all standing over him, their faces a mixture of relief and disbelief. Sakura was the first to speak, her voice trembling, “Harry... you’re alive...”

Harry managed a shaky smile, his voice hoarse. "I... I guess I missed something."

Sasuke, barely conscious but still aware enough to grunt, gave his teammate a look that was almost teasing, despite the situation. "You missed nothing," he muttered, though his voice was weak, strained. "I could have told you that."

Harry’s lips twitched into a faint, tired grin, the tears still fresh in his eyes. He felt the weight of everything—of death, of loss, of love—lifting from him, but only just.

Naruto, still holding onto the fragile thread of hope, leaned down, looking at Harry with watery eyes. “You’re really... really okay?”

Harry nodded slowly, his voice softer now, barely above a whisper. “Yeah... I’m okay.”

And in that moment, surrounded by his friends, with the battle over, Harry knew. He wasn’t just surviving. He was living. And that, for the first time in a long time, felt enough.

The air was thick with the kind of heavy silence that usually followed a battle, but it didn’t feel the same now. There was a strange sense of calm hanging in the air, something almost foreign after the chaos that had transpired. As Team 7 gathered around Tsunade, there was a feeling of relief, but also something else—something that felt like a new beginning.

Naruto leaned over Tsunade's shoulders, his usual energy bubbling up even through the exhaustion. He was grinning like an idiot, his eyes wide with excitement. “So, Tsunade,” he began, his voice filled with mischievous energy. “Are you gonna become Hokage now? Huh? You’ve got no excuse left, right?”

Sakura stepped up next to him, following suit, her hand resting on her hip as she smiled up at Tsunade. “Yeah, that’s the next step, right?” she added with a playful grin. “You did say you’d do it, after all.”

Tsunade, clearly exhausted but still managing to carry herself with that calm, authoritative air, snorted tiredly. “Did you kids even master senjutsu in a week?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow at the group.

The question hung in the air, and the entire Team 7 froze, exchanging glances. Harry blinked and then shrugged nonchalantly, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Totally did, right guys?" he said, trying to sound confident but completely failing to hide the hesitation in his voice.

Sasuke, sitting beside Harry, rolled his eyes but gave a small nod of agreement. “Yeah, totally,” he added dryly, crossing his arms. “I mean, we’ve got this whole ‘senjutsu’ thing down, no problem.”

Naruto nodded vigorously, backing them up with a grin that was so wide it threatened to split his face in two. “Yeah, absolutely!” he declared, giving a thumbs-up. "No problem at all! We’re basically experts now!"

They were the worst liars in the history of the shinobi world. Every single one of them knew it, but they still stood there, pretending they had done something they hadn’t even come close to mastering. Tsunade stared at them for a moment, the exhaustion on her face mixing with something akin to exasperation. She shook her head, letting out a sigh as she looked up at Jiraiya, who had been watching with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

Jiraiya sighed deeply, shaking his head as if he had seen this play out a hundred times. "You guys really are hopeless," he muttered under his breath.

Shizune, standing nearby, couldn’t help but laugh softly at the chaos of it all. It felt good to laugh after everything, good to breathe freely again without the weight of battle pressing down on her chest. She had seen the team grow so much over the years, and in moments like this, it felt like they might just be alright.

Tsunade finally smirked, a glint of humor returning to her eyes, but there was still that underlying weight of the responsibility she carried. "Fine," she said with a resigned chuckle. "Yes, I’m going back to the Hidden Leaf. I’ll become the Fifth Hokage. You’re right, it’s about time."

Team 7 erupted into cheers, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten as they jumped into action. Naruto flung his arms wide, shouting in excitement. "Yes! We did it! We found the Fifth Hokage!" He looked at Sasuke and Harry, all but dragging them into a group hug. “We get to brag about this forever!”

Sasuke, still feeling like he’d been through an absolute war zone, glared at Naruto as he tried to escape the enthusiastic embrace. “We didn’t find her. She’s been here the whole time, you idiot,” he grumbled, but there was no real heat in his voice, just the dry, sarcastic edge everyone had come to know.

Harry, still wincing from the pain in his back, groaned as Naruto pulled him into the hug too. “We’re really that lucky, huh?” he muttered sarcastically, though his eyes were still tired and amused. “Yeah, we found her. Sure, why not?” He winced again as Naruto squeezed him tighter.

Jiraiya rolled his eyes at their antics but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “That’s… not exactly how it works, Naruto,” he said dryly, though his tone was fond. "But I suppose it doesn’t hurt to let you have this one."

Sakura, ever the emotional one, was watching the scene unfold with a hand pressed to her chest, her eyes glistening with tears. It wasn’t often she let herself get caught up in the moment, but right now, surrounded by everyone, there was something about the way they all worked together that made her heart swell. She was proud of all of them, proud to see them so happy. “We did it,” she said softly, almost to herself, but loud enough for them to hear. “We really did it.”

After a few moments of chaos, Naruto finally stepped back, lifting Harry and Sasuke onto their feet. Harry groaned, stretching his back, a loud crack echoing as he did. “I’m never doing something like that again,” he muttered with a laugh, a wince still on his face. “That was way too much for me.”

Sasuke, who had been dragged to his feet by Naruto, dryly agreed with a short grunt. “I’ll second that.”

Tsunade, who had been watching them with a weary but amused look, couldn’t help but smile. There was a tenderness in her eyes, something she usually kept hidden. It wasn’t just the chaos or the silliness of the moment. It was the undeniable bond these kids shared, the strength they had found in one another. It reminded her so much of the people she had lost, the people who had once been her family.

A memory surfaced in her mind, unbidden, but it was so vivid. Kushina’s voice, warm and comforting, filled her thoughts. "Well... I’d wanted my future child to be happy. He's gonna be a jinchuriki, like me, and something like that comes with hardships. But I'd want them to be the happiest they can be. Despite what the world may throw their way, they'll be happy. Even without me by their side."

The memory was fleeting, like the wind, and then it was gone. Tsunade let out a shaky sigh, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. She could see it so clearly, the vision of Kushina, smiling and laughing, talking about her hopes for Naruto’s future. And somehow, in that moment, Tsunade knew. Kushina, wherever she was, would be proud. Naruto was happy. He had a family now. He was loved, and he was surrounded by people who cared for him.

Tsunade’s heart clenched, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips as she gazed at Team 7. They were chaotic, yes, but they were something more. They were together, and in that, she saw all the hope she had lost so many years ago.

"Kushina," she whispered softly under her breath, a single tear slipping down her cheek as the wind rustled through the trees. "Your son is the happiest person alive."

The sun shone brightly, and for just a moment, everything felt right.

The atmosphere inside the council chambers was heavy, the kind of suffocating weight that came from too many years of experience, too many losses, and far too much political maneuvering. The Hidden Leaf’s governing body was small but powerful—three elders who had long stood at the side of the Hokage, advising, manipulating, and, in some cases, obstructing.

Jiraiya stood in the center of the chamber, his usual casual demeanor subdued in the face of what was a pivotal moment for Konoha. To his right stood Tsunade, her posture relaxed but her sharp golden eyes scanning the room with mild disdain. At her side, Shizune maintained a careful, composed expression, though she was clearly wary of what was to come.

Across from them, seated behind a long wooden table, were the three elders: Koharu Utatane, Homura Mitokado, and Danzo Shimura. The trio, despite their old age, carried an air of undeniable authority. Even if Tsunade had no love for them, she couldn’t deny their experience and influence.

The silence stretched as the elders simply stared at Tsunade as if struggling to believe that she was truly standing before them. It was Koharu who finally broke the stillness.

“…You actually did it.” Her voice was a mix of disbelief and reluctant approval as she looked toward Jiraiya.

Homura exhaled through his nose, his aged features barely concealing his surprise. “I must admit, I was skeptical. But it seems we have our Fifth Hokage after all.”

Danzo, the most unreadable of the three, merely narrowed his visible eye. His expression gave nothing away, though his fingers tapped against his cane in an almost irritated manner. “Hmph.”

Jiraiya smirked, rubbing the back of his head in mock modesty. “You all sound so shocked,” he said, voice light but carrying an underlying edge. “Didn’t have faith in me?”

Koharu gave him a dry look. “No. We didn’t.”

Tsunade scoffed. “To be fair, I wasn’t exactly planning on coming back,” she admitted, folding her arms across her chest. “But… certain circumstances changed my mind.”

Jiraiya grinned at her, clearly knowing what—or rather, who—had softened her resolve. “Team 7 played a big role in that.”

Tsunade shot him a look but didn’t deny it. The council members glanced at each other before turning back to her.

“So, it is settled,” Homura said, steepling his fingers together. “We will begin preparations for the official ceremony. There is a great deal of paperwork and protocol to go through before you can formally take the title.”

Tsunade rolled her eyes. “Wonderful,” she said dryly. “I’m assuming this isn’t a quick process?”

Homura and Koharu exchanged a weary glance.

“No,” Koharu said bluntly. “Not in the slightest.”

Homura sighed, adjusting his robes. “We have not had to install a new Hokage in over a decade. The last time, for Minato, it was done as quickly as possible due to the ongoing war. But this… This will require time and proper formalities.”

Tsunade raised a brow. “Just how long are we talking?”

Koharu waved a dismissive hand. “A few days for the announcement and ceremony. But the bureaucratic work behind the transition…” She let out a tired sigh. “That will take much longer.”

Tsunade scoffed again, planting a hand on her hip. “Can’t you three handle that? You’re the ones still running things, right?”

Danzo’s eye narrowed slightly. “We’re advisors, not clerks,” he said, his voice smooth and firm. “The administrative burden is… considerable.”

Koharu grimaced. “I had to oversee much of the paperwork when Hiruzen took the hat.”

Homura’s frown deepened. “And I did it when Minato was appointed.”

Danzo gave a small, almost smug smirk. “I, fortunately, have no experience in such tedious matters.”

Tsunade raised an eyebrow. “So that means…?”

The three elders looked at each other before Koharu let out a resigned sigh. “That leaves one person.”

Tsunade’s eyes narrowed. “And that would be?”

There was a pause before Jiraiya, looking more amused than anything, answered for them. “Hayato.”

Tsunade blinked. “…Hayato?” She let the name roll off her tongue, her expression shifting into one of genuine confusion. “He’s still alive?”

Jiraiya gave her a single, knowing nod.

For the first time since stepping foot into the chamber, Tsunade was genuinely stunned. She had assumed Hayato Namikaze had faded into obscurity—if he was even still breathing. The man had vanished from the public eye after Minato’s death, leaving behind only whispers of his existence. She had thought him dead, or at the very least, too far removed from Konoha to be relevant.

“…Well,” she muttered, recovering from her momentary shock. “Guess that old bastard’s harder to kill than I thought.”

Shizune shot her a reproachful look, but the elders didn’t react.

“We will send word to Hayato immediately,” Homura said. “He will oversee the transition and ensure everything is done properly.”

“Meanwhile,” Koharu continued, “we will begin the process of notifying the clan heads, the Fire Daimyo, and all relevant political figures. This is not simply a village matter—Konoha’s leadership affects the entire Land of Fire. This transition must be handled with utmost care.”

Danzo was silent for a moment before finally speaking again. “The announcement will send ripples beyond our borders,” he said smoothly. “Certain factions—both within and outside the village—may seek to exploit the change in leadership. We must be prepared for that.”

Tsunade didn’t flinch under his gaze. She knew the weight of the Hokage title. She knew what this meant. And for the first time, it truly felt real.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair before rolling her shoulders back. “Fine,” she said, her tone more serious now. “Let’s get this over with.”

The room was silent for a beat before Homura nodded. “Then it begins.”

With that, the future of Konoha was set into motion.

The morning air was crisp, the scent of freshly brewed tea mingling with the soft fragrance of the garden outside. Hayato Namikaze sat on the engawa of the Namikaze estate, his old but steady hands wrapped around a porcelain teacup. Despite the chaos unfolding within the house, he found it peaceful.

Inside, the distinct thumps of feet rushing across wooden floors echoed throughout the estate.

“Where’s my other sandal?!” Naruto’s voice rang out, followed by an audible crash as something—or someone—hit the ground.

“I swear, if you step on my scrolls again, I’m setting your bed on fire,” Harry’s irritated tone followed, punctuated by the sound of hurried shuffling.

“I said that’s my brush, not yours!” Sakura snapped, her voice rising above the madness.

Hayato took another slow sip of his tea, unbothered by the ruckus. Chaos had a way of settling into a rhythm—especially in a household that now housed three of the most energetic teenagers in Konoha.

A knock at the door disrupted his moment of peace. He let out a quiet sigh, setting his cup down with practiced precision. Then, grasping his cane, he rose to his feet and made his way toward the entrance with measured steps.

Upon opening the door, Hayato was met with two figures he hadn’t seen in a long time—Tsunade Senju and Jiraiya.

His response was immediate. Without hesitation, he slammed the door in their faces.

A beat of silence followed.

From inside, Naruto’s voice called out, “Who was that?!”

“No one important,” Hayato answered smoothly, rubbing his temple.

A few seconds passed. Then, after a long, reluctant sigh, he opened the door again. Jiraiya blinked, looking more amused than offended, while Tsunade stood there with her arms crossed, her golden eyes filled with equal parts irritation and amusement.

“They’re still here,” Hayato muttered, mostly to himself.

Tsunade arched a brow. “Really, Hayato?”

“What do you want?” he asked, his tone devoid of any real interest.

Jiraiya’s grin widened as he leaned slightly to peer past Hayato, catching sight of the household’s morning chaos. Tsunade did the same, her sharp gaze scanning the inside. She watched as Sakura smacked Naruto upside the head, Naruto yelped, and Harry rubbed his temples as though suffering from the worst migraine of his life.

“…This is new,” Tsunade remarked, her eyes flicking back to Hayato. “Didn’t peg you for the guardian type.”

Hayato scowled. “You’re already wasting my time. Get to the point.”

Jiraiya leaned back, shrugging. “You always were a morning grump.” Then, more seriously, he added, “We need you.”

Hayato’s eyes narrowed. “For?”

Jiraiya’s usual playfulness dimmed slightly. “Tsunade is officially taking the position of Fifth Hokage.”

Hayato let that statement hang in the air for a moment. His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted. His grip on his cane tightened slightly. “Hmph,” he finally said. “Took you long enough.”

Tsunade’s lips twitched. “Not like I had a choice.”

Hayato eyed her for a moment before exhaling slowly. “And what does this have to do with me?”

Keenly perceptive as ever, Hayato already had an inkling of what they wanted. And he didn’t like it.

Jiraiya rubbed the back of his head, looking unusually sheepish. “Well, let’s just say… the council isn’t exactly thrilled with the paperwork and bureaucracy of installing a new Hokage. And, uh, since you handled things during Minato’s transition…”

Hayato closed his eyes briefly. “No.”

Jiraiya blinked. “No?”

“No,” Hayato repeated.

Tsunade sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Hayato—”

“No.”

Jiraiya groaned. “You didn’t even hear us out.”

“I did,” Hayato countered. “And my answer is still no.”

Tsunade huffed. “Oh, for—look, you’re the only person left who can oversee this transition without screwing everything up.”

“I take offense to that,” Jiraiya muttered.

Tsunade ignored him. “The paperwork is a mess, the political side of things needs to be handled carefully, and the Fire Daimyo needs to be properly informed. And considering the state Konoha is in after the invasion, there’s no room for error.”

Hayato was silent for a long moment. His sharp blue eyes flickered between Tsunade and Jiraiya, weighing his options.

“…You’re certain about this?” he finally asked Tsunade, his voice quieter than before.

Tsunade met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “Yeah. I am.”

Hayato studied her for another second before exhaling heavily. “I hate you both.”

Jiraiya beamed. “So that’s a yes?”

Hayato didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped aside, motioning for them to enter. As they walked in, Tsunade shot Jiraiya a victorious smirk.

Behind them, Naruto’s voice rang out again.

“Ow! Sakura that hurt!”

Tsunade rolled her eyes. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

Hayato simply sighed, already regretting every decision that had led to this moment. The door of the Namikaze estate closed softly behind Hayato as he led Tsunade and Jiraiya deeper into the house. The air was calm inside, a stark contrast to the bustle outside the estate. The walls, lined with intricate woodwork and quiet elegance, spoke of a past that was both glorious and tinged with sorrow. Tsunade and Jiraiya glanced around, their eyes drifting over the pictures that adorned the walls. Several frames featured the Namikaze clan before it had nearly gone extinct, the images frozen in time—some showing the proud ancestors of Minato, others focusing on Hayato himself in his younger years.

Then, there were the images of Minato, captured at various stages of his life. From his boyish grin as a child to the quiet intensity of his adulthood, it was clear that the resemblance between him and Hayato was uncanny. If you didn’t know better, you’d think they were brothers. But Minato, of course, had been Hayato’s nephew, a painful reminder of a time that felt so distant now.

There were pictures of Minato and Kushina, taken during their wedding. The two stood hand in hand, their smiles wide and full of promise. The warmth in the photo was palpable, an image of happiness, hope, and future plans. But the pictures stopped there. There were no pictures of Minato or Kushina’s life afterward, no portraits of their family growing up. No pictures of their son, Naruto, because they never had the chance. The weight of their absence hung heavy in the room, thick and unspoken, yet everyone who came to this estate could feel it.

Tsunade's eyes lingered on a particular picture, one where Minato and Kushina stood, hands intertwined, on their wedding day. Her expression softened for just a moment. She blinked, pushing the emotions aside, but the sorrow was brief—familiar, but fleeting. Jiraiya, too, stood in silence, as if unsure how to approach the ghosts that seemed to haunt the walls of the Namikaze home.

“Must be hard for you,” Tsunade murmured, though the words weren’t directly for Hayato.

He didn’t reply, just gave a slight nod as he continued forward, his cane tapping with each step. He didn’t need to speak; the past was something that weighed on all of them, in different ways.

Eventually, Hayato led them into the main living room—a spacious area, inviting yet filled with a sense of calm and restraint, much like its owner.

As they entered, Tsunade took a deep breath and looked around, giving a nod of approval.

“Comfortable,” she remarked, settling down into one of the plush chairs, Jiraiya following suit, though his feet were promptly kicked off the nearby table when Hayato’s cane met them with a sharp tap.

“Get your feet off the furniture,” Hayato muttered dryly, sitting down himself, his back straight and his eyes never leaving the two of them.

Tsunade smirked slightly, her gaze flickering over to Jiraiya, who just sighed and complied, though he looked far from pleased.

“Anyway,” Hayato began, drawing their attention back to the matter at hand. “I assume the council will take care of the announcement and ceremony? The lazy bums they are.” His voice carried a hint of bitterness, the cynicism that only someone with years of dealing with political maneuvering could develop.

Tsunade glanced at him, offering a small nod of agreement. “Yeah. They’ll get it sorted out. A few speeches, some backslapping, a couple of ceremonial bows, and then it'll be done. It won’t take more than a couple of days, tops."

Jiraiya shifted his tone light but with a hint of seriousness. "You’ll be good at it, Tsunade. You’ve been to plenty of ceremonies before.”

Tsunade rolled her eyes. “Ceremonies and politics are two very different things, Jiraiya.”

“That’s true.” Hayato’s voice was dry, and he leaned forward slightly, his cane tapping the floor with an audible thrum. “The ceremony will be the easiest part. The hard part—well, that’s dealing with all the politics. Particularly the Fire Daimyo.”

Tsunade’s brow furrowed. “The Fire Daimyo? I’ve met him a few times. What’s the problem?”

Jiraiya gave her a pointed look. “He's... well, corrupt. Like most politicians, he’s got a lot of power, but not much loyalty to anyone but himself. You’ll have to charm him. Butter him up, so to speak, to get him on your side. Konoha’s reputation has taken a hit after the invasion, and there are a lot of powerful figures who witnessed it. The Daimyo’s one of them, and he’s not exactly thrilled about how things turned out.”

Tsunade grimaced. “I don’t like kissing up to people. Especially not him.”

“I don’t like it either,” Hayato said quietly, his voice laced with frustration, “but it’s the reality of things. He holds the power, and if you want to secure Konoha’s future, you’ll have to make him see that you’re the right choice. Make him think you’re indispensable. It’s all about appearances in the end.”

The weight of his words hung in the air for a moment, and Tsunade let out a resigned breath. “Great. So it’s more than just speeches. It’s political games.”

“Exactly,” Hayato replied, his tone calm, but there was no mistaking the undertone of bitterness there. “And you’ll need to navigate that carefully. Konoha’s already on thin ice, and you’ll be the one to hold it together. It’s a fine balance between showing strength and making the right alliances.”

Jiraiya leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling. “It’s not going to be easy. But if anyone can pull it off, it’s you, Tsunade.”

She gave him a brief, wry smile. “I hope you’re right.”

“Don’t worry,” Hayato muttered, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at the two of them. “The real work starts now. The ceremony may be easy, but the political dance you’ll have to do afterward... that’s what will make or break you as Hokage.”

Tsunade nodded, her expression serious now. She knew what was at stake.

“Alright then,” she said, standing up and rolling her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with.”

The announcement of Tsunade as the Fifth Hokage spread through the Land of Fire like wildfire. The news reached every corner of Konoha first, where the villagers took a collective breath of relief. The Hidden Leaf, still reeling from the invasion, was leaderless no longer. The title of Hokage had been passed down once more, a symbol of stability in an unstable time. From Konoha, the news spread beyond its borders. Letters and messenger hawks carried word of the Fifth Hokage to other Hidden Villages, to the lands of the other great nations, and finally to the ears of their respective Daimyos. The name "Tsunade Senju" traveled with weight—it was a name of legend, one that carried both respect and wariness.

The Sand, still weakened from their forced alliance with Orochimaru, had mixed reactions. The Stone remained silent but watchful. The Lightning took note, their Raikage regarding the change with quiet consideration. And the Mist, shrouded in their own problems, had little reaction beyond acknowledgment. Konoha was rebuilding, and fast. Workers reconstructed fallen buildings, the wounded were being treated, and despite the scars left behind, the village pushed forward. The people clung to the hope that, under Tsunade, they could reclaim their strength. The ceremony for her official installment as Hokage was scheduled—only days away now.

But then, the news came.

The Wind Daimyo was dead.

Assassinated.

The report arrived before dawn, carried by a falcon bearing the official seal of the Land of Wind. The Wind Daimyo had been murdered inside his own home, executed with terrifying precision. His bodyguards—elites trained to die before they let harm come to him—had been slain just as quickly. No sign of a struggle, no traces of chakra residue, and no evidence of a battle. It was clean, efficient, and silent.

And that was what made it terrifying.

Word of the assassination spread just as quickly as Tsunade’s appointment had.

By the time morning arrived, the political landscape of the world had changed.

The air inside the Hokage’s office was thick with tension. The weight of the news, the implications of what it meant, pressed down on everyone present. The meeting was held in a secure chamber, meant for discussions of the highest importance—where only those with direct influence over Konoha’s future could attend.

Sitting at the long, polished wooden table were the heads of Konoha’s most powerful clans.

Shikaku Nara, the ever-cunning tactician, leaned forward, his fingers steepled in thought.

Hiashi Hyuga, ever composed, his pale eyes unreadable.

Inoichi Yamanaka, his usually calm demeanor tense.

Choza Akimichi, silent but listening.

Shibi Aburame, still and calculating.

Hayato Namikaze, there reluctantly, a look of exhaustion in his sharp gaze.

And, of course, the elders of Konoha’s council:

Danzo Shimura, his face unreadable, but his mind undoubtedly already working through potential gains and losses.

Koharu Utatane, her brows furrowed, deep in thought.

Homura Mitokado, his hands folded before him, studying the situation with careful analysis.

At the head of the room sat Tsunade, her elbows resting on the table, fingers pressed against her temple.

Shizune stood beside her, a scroll in her hands. Taking a breath, she unrolled it and began reading aloud.

"The Wind Daimyo was assassinated late last night. His body was discovered at sunrise. The assailants left no evidence, no lingering chakra traces, no markings. The Daimyo’s personal guard—eight elite shinobi—were all found dead. The method of execution remains unknown, though forensic reports suggest it was quick and precise. No sounds of struggle were heard. The castle’s security remained undisturbed, no external breaches were recorded. Whoever did this... was let inside.”

She paused, swallowing.

"The assassin or assassins did not take anything. No documents, no wealth. This was not a robbery. This was a targeted execution."

Silence followed when she finished.

Shikaku exhaled through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment before speaking.

“This wasn’t just an assassination,” he said, voice low. “It was a message.”

Danzo’s fingers tapped against the table. “Indeed. But what message was it trying to send?”

“This has never happened before,” Koharu muttered, shaking her head. “No Daimyo has ever been assassinated in such a manner. It’s unprecedented. And it’s obvious—this isn’t the work of a Hidden Village.”

Tsunade nodded. “No shinobi, not even a rogue one, would carry out something like this. Not this cleanly. Not with no trace left behind. The shinobi system doesn’t operate like this.”

Homura glanced at her. “Then that only leaves one possibility.”

Koharu’s face darkened. “A terrorist group.”

A cold weight settled in the room at her words.

Inoichi frowned. “But which one? There are many. The world is not kind, and those who oppose the great nations exist in plenty.”

No one had an answer.

Tsunade leaned back, exhaling through her nose. “Regardless, this complicates things.” She rubbed her temples. “The ceremony will have to be put on hold.”

Hiashi raised an eyebrow. “You think this will escalate?”

“I don’t think, I know,” Tsunade muttered, standing. “The other Kage will want to meet. I’ve already received letters from them.” Her eyes swept across the room. “And they all say the same thing: a Kage Summit needs to be held.”

The room went still.

Shikaku let out a slow breath. “It’s been decades since the last Kage Summit.”

Tsunade nodded. “That alone tells you how serious this is.”

For a moment, there was only silence, as the weight of what was coming sank into them all.

Danzo, for once, did not argue. He only closed his eyes.

“This… is the beginning of something,” Hayato murmured, speaking for the first time. His sharp, calculating gaze lifted to meet Tsunade’s. “Something bigger than us. Bigger than Konoha. The world is shifting beneath our feet.”

Tsunade exhaled. “Yeah.” She turned to Shizune. “Draft a response to the other Kage. Tell them I’ll be attending.”

Shizune nodded swiftly and moved to prepare the letter.

As the meeting ended, the weight of the coming days hung over them all.

The world was changing.

And the shinobi system would never be the same.