MINATO NAMIKAZE
"Yo!" Sensei announced, straightening up with a grin that was equal parts mischievous and sheepish. "You know, the acoustics in those ceiling panels are terrible. Couldn't hear a thing. You all should really consider some renovations up there—maybe some sound-dampening seals or—"
"Sensei," Minato said flatly.
"Right, right." Sensei's grin didn't fade as he hopped down from the table, his long white hair swaying with the movement. He landed with a theatrical flourish, his arms spread wide. "Before you go pinning this one on me, I hate to disappoint your assumptions, Minato, but I had absolutely nothing to do with teaching the kid the Rasengan." He struck a pose, hand on his hips. Minato had long been used to his sensei's theatrics. "From what I saw of his chakra control, however, the boy's got tremendous precision. Almost unnatural, really. A jutsu that relies purely on chakra manipulation and control, like the Rasengan? It's not impossible he figured it out on his own."
Minato felt his eyebrows rise despite himself. Minato had some days, and by now, he was only a little bit annoyed that someone figured out his own jutsu by just looking at it.
"Though honestly," Sensei continued, waving a hand dismissively, "how he learned your signature move is less interesting to me right now." His eyes gleamed with something between curiosity and accusation as he looked between Minato and Hiruzen. "What I'm more interested in is how you two managed to keep the fact that he can use Senjutsu a secret from me. Me. The Toad Sage. The foremost expert on nature energy in the entire Elemental Nations. You'd think someone would have mentioned it!"
Minato and Hiruzen exchanged a brief glance, and by mutual unspoken agreement, both ignored the complaint entirely.
"Sendaime," Minato said, turning to Hiruzen and deliberately sidestepping Jiraiya-sensei's grievance, "Had Enma-sama return with information about Sasayki-san's summoning contracts? You mentioned sending him to investigate."
Hiruzen nodded slowly, his expression becoming more serious as he took a long pull from his pipe. The smoke wreathed his face for a moment before he exhaled.
"Enma-sama returned with quite the report," he said, his eyes distant as if recalling the conversation. "According to what he learned from his contacts among the summoning realms, Eishin's primary contract was with a place called the Momiji Sanctuary. A realm of eternal autumn, home to the Red Panda clan and the Red Wise Sage."
Hiruzen paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "They're an old clan. Very old. Deeply spiritual, bound by traditions that predate most of our village's history. They practice what they call The Way of Unburdened Connection — a philosophy that demands absolute focus and singular devotion." His pipe made a soft gurgling sound as he drew on it again. "It was no wonder they abstained from helping Eishin-kun. In their eyes, a summoner who seeks multiple contracts is committing a form of spiritual greed. A dilution of purpose."
"And the second contract?" Minato prompted. "The one he used against the Mizukage—the owls?"
Hiruzen's frown deepened, and there was something almost uncomfortable in his expression now. "That contract is with a place called the Meigetsu Hermitage. The Owl clan." He set his pipe down on the table, a gesture that usually meant he was particularly troubled. "What Enma learned about them is... concerning. The owls are transactional creatures, Minato. Everything with them is negotiation, barter, exchange. They've apparently turned the practice of Senjutsu—nature energy manipulation—into something of an industry."
"An industry?" Inoichi asked, his tone skeptical.
"They loan nature energy to their contractors," Hiruzen explained, and there was clear disapproval in his voice now. "For a price. The owls of Meigetsu have mastered the ability to channel Senjutsu through their summoners, but they charge for this service. The currency—" he paused, meeting Minato's eyes directly, "—is years of mortal life."
A chill ran through the room, even if most had been aware from the early report.
"The Meigetsu Hermitage is shrouded in mystery even among the summoning realms. Enma-sama's contacts had only fragments of information—rumors, really. Whispers about forgotten lore, about the owls keeping ledgers of debts that span generations. About contractors who died young, their lifespans consumed by borrowed power." He picked up his pipe again, needing something to do with his hands. "How much truth there is to these stories, I cannot say. But the reputation alone..."
Silence settled over the room like a physical weight.
Then Sensei rubbed his chin, and despite the grim information, a smile played at the corner of his mouth. "Contracted to two Sage Regions," he mused. "Now that's interesting. You don't see that every day."
"It's possible that's his goal," Shikaku said, his tone thoughtful. He exhaled smoke toward the ceiling. "The accumulation of Sage contracts specifically."
Inoichi made a sound of disbelief. "How is that even possible? Most shinobi go their entire careers without even hearing about places like this. Some spend decades searching for a single summoning contract and never find one." His frustration was evident, and Minato recognized the particular flavor of it—the irritation of someone confronting something that violated their understanding of how the world worked. "How does an orphan with no clan backing, no bloodline, no—"
"Between twelve and seventeen," Shikaku interrupted quietly.
The room went still.
"What?" Inoichi turned to stare at him.
Shikaku took another drag. "I read through all of Eishin's previous mission reports. Every single one we have on file. Cross-referenced them with Intelligence's registry, looked for patterns in his resource requisitions, in his travel logs." He tapped ash from his cigarette. "Conservative estimate? The boy has somewhere between twelve and seventeen different summoning contracts."
"That's impossible," Inoichi said flatly.
But Minato's mind was already racing. Summoning contracts were rare. Finding a summoning realm willing to accept you was difficult enough—each clan had their own standards, their own tests, their own politics. Some required bloodline inheritance. Others demanded proof of character, or strength, or compatibility with their elemental nature. The idea of someone accumulating that many contracts...
"Are you certain?" Minato asked, leaning forward. "His profile only lists four—the raccoons as his primary, the bears, and the recently added owls and red pandas."
Shikaku was silent for a long moment, his eyes distant as if reviewing calculations in his mind. He nodded. "I'm sure. The discrepancies in his reports are subtle, but they're there. References to capabilities he shouldn't have, strategic options that don't make sense without additional resources." He paused. "And there's another possibility. Given his close relationship with Anko Mitarashi—Orochimaru-sama's former student—it's probable he also has access to the snake contract."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop at the mention of that name.
Minato saw faces around him tighten, expressions souring. Orochimaru was still officially in service to Konoha, but everyone present knew about the experiments. The ethical boundaries that had been crossed, then crossed again. Minato had instituted strict limitations on what research was permitted, but the damage to Orochimaru's reputation, and by extension, to those associated with him, remained.
Hiruzen's expression had lost all traces of its earlier mirth. He set his pipe down again, his movements careful and controlled in the way of someone managing strong emotions.
"Three Sage Regions," he said quietly. "If the snakes are indeed included, that makes three." His eyes found Shikaku's. "Is this why you believe Eishin's goal is specifically the Sage Regions? Not just accumulating contracts in general, but targeting realms with Senjutsu capabilities?"
Shikaku nodded slowly. "Look at his pattern of summoning use in actual missions. You'd think someone with that many contracts at his disposal would be known for it—that it would be his signature approach. But he almost never uses them. Maybe one mission out of every six features any summoning at all, and when he does use them, it's not for combat. Reconnaissance, message delivery, emergency extraction—utility functions." He took another drag. "That's not the behavior of someone who views summons as tools or partners. That's someone who views them as stepping stones to something else."
"We know he has a jutsu he shouldn't possess," Inoichi said, his voice sharp with accusation. "We know he has knowledge far beyond what his background and training should account for. We know he's extremely close with the discarded student of Orochimaru." He paused, letting the implications hang in the air before continuing. "I'd say it's clear who's been backing him. Who's been guiding him."
Minato's frown deepened.
If Orochimaru was indeed behind Eishin—if the Sannin had been cultivating the young jōnin as some kind of project or protégé—then the calculus changed significantly. Minato wouldn't feel guilt over cutting Eishin loose if that were the case. Orochimaru's influence was... complicated. Dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with immediate threats and everything to do with long-term corruption.
But before anyone could voice their thoughts, a sharp sound cut through the room.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
The bottom of a wooden cane striking the floor three times.
All attention snapped to the figure who had remained silent throughout the entire discussion. Danzo Shimura has his single visible eye now open and fixed on nothing in particular—or perhaps on everything at once.
"Enough of this," Danzo said, his voice carrying the dry rasp of age but losing none of its authority for it. "You waste time with speculation and conspiracy theories. The question is not who taught him or why he hoards contracts." His eye finally shifted, sweeping across the assembled shinobi with cold assessment. "The question is what we do. Now. Before Kirigakure's shock transforms into action."
Jiraiya-sensei made a sound that might have been a snort. "Well, well. The esteemed elder graces us with his wisdom." His tone was respectful enough on the surface, but there was an edge beneath it that everyone present recognized. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know anything the rest of us don't, would you? I couldn't help but notice young Eishin was glaring at you quite a bit during the questioning. Almost like there was some history there."
Danzo's eye slid to Jiraiya-sensei, and for a moment the two men simply stared at each other. The temperature in the room seemed to drop another few degrees.
Minato felt his jaw tighten. Jiraiya-sensei and Danzo had never seen eye to eye—literally or figuratively. Their philosophies of what served the village best were fundamentally opposed, and putting them in the same room for too long was like storing explosive tags next to a forge. Usually, Minato could manage the tension with humor and careful navigation, but right now...
He forced a smile onto his face and inserted what he hoped was a disarming laugh into the silence. "Elder Danzo is right, of course. We need to focus on the immediate situation." He spread his hands in a gesture meant to ease tension. "We can investigate connections and motivations later. Right now, we need to determine our course of action. Or at the very least, prepare contingencies for the various ways this could escalate."
Jiraiya-sensei held his glare on Danzo for another long moment, something passing between them that Minato couldn't quite read. Then his sensei leaned back, though the easy smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"We might have a bit of time," the Toad Sage said, his tone becoming more businesslike. "My network's been monitoring Kirigakure's response. They've sealed their borders—not just to foreign shinobi, but to everyone. All external contact has been cut. They've even recalled their own operatives from missions abroad." He crossed his arms. "The whole village has gone dark. Whatever internal discussions they're having about this situation, they're keeping it very internal."
Hiruzen hummed thoughtfully. "A cautious response. Yagura's death leaves them vulnerable, and they know it. They'll need time to stabilize, to determine who leads next."
"The other Great Villages won't move independently," Shikaku added, his strategic mind clearly already working through scenarios. "They'll wait for Kirigakure to take the lead. It's Kiri's Kage who died, after all. Without them making the first move, the whole thing remains theoretical."
"Perhaps it won't come to that at all," Inoichi said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced by his own words. "Kirigakure has been unstable for years now. The Bloodline Purges, the internal conflicts, the isolation—they're not the power they once were. It's entirely possible they'll collapse under this pressure rather than lash out. They could end up like Sunagakure…." He paused. "Or they might cease to exist as a unified force entirely."
"Foolishness." Danzo scoffed dismissively. "Hope is not strategy." His cane tapped once against the floor, a punctuation mark to his disdain. "We must prepare for the worst possible outcome. Assume Kirigakure will unify in their rage rather than fracture. Assume the other villages will see opportunity in our vulnerability and join against us. Assume the worst, always, and you might survive to see tomorrow."
Inoichi looked as if he had been slapped, his face reddening like a scolded child, but he didn't say anything back.
"Cheerful as ever, aren't you?" Jiraiya-sensei's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Tell me, Elder, do you practice being doom and gloom in the mirror, or does it just come naturally at your age?"
Danzo ignored the jab entirely, his expression not even flickering. "But perhaps," he continued as if Jiraiya-sensei hadn't spoken, "the answer lies in that very statement."
Minato frowned, trying to follow the logic. "What do you mean?"
But Hiruzen had apparently already grasped it. The former Hokage turned in his seat, looking past Minato to his old companion.
"You want to send him to Sunagakure," Hiruzen said, and there was clear disapproval in his tone.
Danzo's eye glinted with something that might have been satisfaction at being understood. "The boy was able to eliminate one of the strongest shinobi in the world—a Kage and the jinchūriki of the Three-Tails. Demonstrated power of that caliber." His tone remained flat, factual. "The One-Tail in Sunagakure would present significantly less challenge."
"Danzo," Hiruzen said, his voice hardening in a way Minato rarely heard. "Danzo, you're suggesting we weaponize this situation, turn it into an assassination mission against another allied village's jinchūriki. You're suggesting we answer Suna's pleas for help by sending an assassin to kill their jinchūriki. A child jinchūriki. The diplomatic catastrophe alone—
"Suna is dying," Danzo interrupted, his voice cutting. "Can't you see it, Hiruzen? They have been dying for two years while their bijū tears through their village. They are not our ally in anything but name anymore—they are a burden. A failing state that has begged us for salvation while offering nothing of value in return. Their Kazekage is dead. Their military is shattered. Their people flee in droves." He paused. "We could end their suffering. Permanently."
"They're our partners," Hiruzen countered, his pipe forgotten now as he leaned forward. "They've asked us for help containing the One-Tail, not executing their jinchūriki. The alliance—"
"Is a fiction maintained by their desperation and our mercy," Danzo finished coldly.
Minato pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache building behind his eyes. This was deteriorating rapidly. He looked to his sensei, hoping for—what? Mediation? Support?
Jiraiya-sensei was studying his fingernails with exaggerated interest. When he felt Minato's gaze, he shrugged. "Well, I hate to admit when our dear Elder Sunshine-and-Rainbows has a point, but..." He trailed off, then seemed to catch Minato's expression and sighed. "Look, Minato, Suna has been begging us for real help for over two years now. Ever since their Kazekage died and their One-Tail jinchūriki has lost control completely."
His expression grew more serious. "The kid's been on a rampage for years. You've read the reports. Entire districts of Sunagakure destroyed. Hundreds dead, maybe thousands. Their military is decimated—half from the jinchūriki's attacks, half from desertion. They've asked us for intervention at least a dozen times, and what have we sent them? Token aid. Supplies. A handful of low-level missions." Sensei's voice carried an edge now. "They need someone who can actually stop a rampaging bijū, and we've been giving them the bare minimum to keep them limping along while they bleed out."
He held up a hand to forestall objection. "I'm not saying we should do what our dear Elder here is suggesting. I'm just saying—they're on the brink of extinction, and they know we could have helped prevent it."
Minato turned to Shikaku, his most trusted advisor. "What do you think?"
Shikaku had finished another cigarette and was in the process of lighting yet another one. He took his time with it, the small flame briefly illuminating his face before he shook out the match. When he finally spoke, his words came slowly, carefully.
"It's highly risky," he admitted. "Sending Eishin to Sunagakure—whether for legitimate aid or for... other purposes—could backfire in a dozen different ways." He took a drag, exhaling smoke. "But it might work."
At Minato's questioning look, Shikaku elaborated. "Right now, the other villages are waiting for Kirigakure to rally, to provide the justification and moral authority for a unified response against us. They're waiting for Kiri to demand Eishin's head." He gestured with his cigarette. "That creates a window. A brief period where the political situation is frozen, everyone watching everyone else, no one wanting to move first."
"And you want us to use that window," Minato said slowly, the pieces falling into place in his mind.
"We demonstrate capability," Shikaku continued. "We send Eishin to Sunagakure on a legitimate mission of aid. Maybe he helps stabilize their jinchūriki, maybe he assists with some of their security concerns. But while he's there, every intelligence agency in every major village will be watching." His eyes glinted. "And they'll see a shinobi powerful enough to kill a Kage operating in a weakened allied territory. They'll see us backing him; they will see the boundaries of what we can do."
Minato leaned back in his chair, his mind racing through implications. "You want to threaten them with the same war they're preparing to threaten us with."
The plan worked only if young Eishin succeeded. Only if he subdued or eliminated the One-Tail, demonstrating the kind of overwhelming power that would make the other villages reconsider their positions.
If he succeeded, they gained leverage. If he died... well, it wasn't the ideal option but the second best. A dead shinobi couldn't be handed over to an enemy village. The problem would solve itself, cleanly if tragically.
But if Sasayaki-san failed…. if he survived but couldn't handle the One-Tail, if he retreated or simply proved inadequate. Minato would be right back where he started. Worse, actually. They'd have demonstrated weakness instead of strength, and he'd still face the same impossible choice. Sacrifice a promising shinobi to appease Kirigakure, or watch his village slide toward war.
And he knew which option he'd choose. He'd always known.
Minato found himself hoping, with a coldness that disturbed him, that if Sasyaki-san was going to fail, he'd at least have the decency to die doing it.
The weight of the hat had never felt heavier.
Or perhaps he'd simply never noticed it before.
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