Upon returning to the scarred but recovering village of Konoha, Kakashi dutifully escorted the subdued Gaara and a wary Temari to the Hokage's office. As he turned to leave, a voice, light and casual yet carrying an undeniable weight, drifted to his ears.
"Oh, Kakashi-kun? Be a dear and let Hiruzen Sarutobi know he should pay me a visit. Soon."
Kakashi let out a silent breath of relief. Phew. He's the Hokage's problem. I'm in the clear.
That relief was instantly frozen solid by the next words. "And… you should come along too. Don't be late."
A visible shiver ran down Kakashi's spine. His voice was a nervous tremor. "U-understood, Raimon-sama."
...
He was terrified. If his teacher's older brother discovered that he, one of Minato's own students, had spent years deliberately avoiding and neglecting his sensei's only son… the consequences didn't bear thinking about. He had a vivid mental image of a crackling blue drill with his name on it.
Sigh… Well, at least the Hokage will be there to share the blame, Kakashi thought miserably as he led the Sand siblings away. Please, Hokage-sama, you have to be the main shield for this one!
...
Inside the Hokage's office, Hiruzen Sarutobi massaged his temples, the stress of the day weighing heavily on his aged shoulders. The invasion was quelled, the fires were being put out, and reconstruction was beginning, but the political and financial fallout was a nightmare. Apprehending the saboteurs was one thing; figuring out what to do with Sunagakure, now effectively leaderless, was another. A misstep could trigger another Great Shinobi War.
And then there was the elephant in the room—or rather, the blond demon now walking through Konoha. If the other villages learned that Namikaze Raimon was back, even as an Edo Tensei, it wouldn't be just Suna they'd have to worry about. It could be a coalition of all Four Great Nations laying siege to their walls. His own prestige was in tatters after Orochimaru's very public betrayal, and he could already hear Danzo's poisonous whispers spreading through the corridors of power.
...
"Hokage-sama," Kakashi began, stepping into the office with the prisoners. "What are your orders for these two?"
Hiruzen sighed, the smoke from his pipe doing little to calm his nerves. "We'll keep some of their shinobi as hostages for negotiation, but the Jinchuriki must be returned to Sunagakure." He dared not keep Gaara. Pushing a cornered village with a Tailed Beast was a recipe for disaster, and that old hawk Chiyo would surely seize the opportunity to rally for war.
"Oh, and Hokage-sama," Kakashi added, his voice carefully neutral. "Namikaze Raimon… he requests your presence. He was quite insistent that I accompany you as well."
Just then, an ANBU agent materialized in a shunshin, his posture tense. "Hokage-sama! It's… it's about the agent from earlier. He's dead."
Hiruzen and Kakashi both frowned.
"Report," Hiruzen commanded.
"Hokage-sama… I have never seen a man die in such… such agony," the ANBU's voice was hushed, haunted. "At the hospital, he suddenly awoke in a frenzy. He took a kunai and… and carved open his own lower abdomen. He pulled out a stone the size of his thumb. Then he… he shoved his own hands into the wound, into his kidneys, and tore out his own organs. They were… they were full of those sharp stones." The agent shuddered. "The most horrifying part… he was smiling. He died with a smile of relief on his face."
...
Kakashi felt a cold dread seep into his bones. He'd read the classified reports, but hearing a firsthand account was entirely different. His legs felt momentarily weak.
Hiruzen, however, simply took a long, weary drag from his pipe. He had seen this too many times during the last war. For a victim of Raimon's "medical" ninjutsu, death wasn't a tragedy; it was a mercy.
"If only Tsunade were here…" he murmured. She was the only one who could possibly treat such a condition, and even then, it would only be to stabilize the patient. The organs themselves would be ruined beyond full repair, leaving the survivor a cripple.
"Hokage-sama," Kakashi ventured, his voice slightly unsteady. "Should we… arrange an ANBU escort for this meeting? Perhaps twenty or thirty operatives?"
"No," Hiruzen said, shaking his head with a grim finality. He seemed to have come to a resigned decision. "It would be pointless. Twenty men or two hundred, it makes no difference against him." Unless, of course, the Shodai Hokage in his prime were to appear, no force in the village could guarantee his safety from that man's particular brand of vengeance.
...
Meanwhile, Naruto had proudly led his newfound uncle back to his small, rundown apartment.
"Hehe~ Welcome to my place, Uncle!" Naruto beamed, completely oblivious to the state of his home.
Namikaze Raimon's eyes swept over the scene. The room was a mess of scattered clothes and ramen cups. In the tiny kitchen, unwashed dishes were piled high. His cheerful expression didn't change, but the air around him grew several degrees colder. This was how the son of the Fourth Hokage, the legacy of his little brother Minato, was living. Alone. Un-cared for.
"Uncle! I'll make you my specialty! The best ramen in the world, dattebayo!" Naruto declared, pulling out a cup noodle from a stash. Raimon's sharp eyes immediately caught the "Best Before" date stamped on the side. It was well past its prime.
After preparing the noodles with hot water, Naruto rummaged in his small fridge and pulled out a carton of milk, handing it to Raimon with a proud, expectant smile.
"Here, Uncle! This is the good stuff! Jiji says drinking milk makes you grow up big and strong!"
"Hehe~" Raimon's internal fury was a silent inferno. The mission money he had earned in his lifetime was astronomical, easily in the billions of ryo. Combined with Minato's savings and the fortune Kushina had inherited from Mito Uzumaki, Naruto's personal trust fund should have been enough to buy the entire Land of Fire several times over. And this… this expired swill was what the boy considered a treat?
"Drink it, Uncle! Don't you like it?" Naruto's face fell, his voice tinged with the pain of a rejected gift. "This is my absolute favorite…"
"How could I not like it?" Raimon's voice was impossibly gentle, a stark contrast to the storm in his eyes. He forced a benevolent smile. "It's just… Uncle's body isn't quite right at the moment. I can't eat or drink anything."
Being an Edo Tensei had its drawbacks, but in this moment, it was a convenient excuse.
"Uncle! I'll find a way! I promise I'll let you taste my favorite food one day!" Naruto declared, his boundless optimism surging forth.
Raimon's smile softened, becoming more genuine. This kid… with that Talk No Jutsu of his, he might just pull it off.
He made a mental note. When that orange-haired kid with the Rinnegan eventually attacked Konoha, he would be perfectly positioned to hitch a ride on that "Rinne Rebirth" technique and get a real, living body back.
...
"If Uncle can't have it, then I will! Can't let it go to waste. I worked hard to get this!" Naruto said, bringing the carton of spoiled milk to his lips.
In a flash, Raimon's hand was on his wrist, stopping him. The movement was too fast for Naruto to see.
"Good things like this," Raimon said, his voice taking on a sly, conspiratorial tone, "should be saved for someone truly special. Like your Grandpa Hokage. He'd appreciate your generosity."
Naruto's disappointment was brief, replaced by understanding. "Oh! Okay!"
Raimon gently ruffled Naruto's wild blond hair. "From now on, you tell Uncle whatever you want to eat. Anything at all."
...
As if on cue, a sickeningly sweet, familiar voice called from outside the door.
"Little Naruto~ Grandpa is here to see you!"
Hiruzen Sarutobi's voice was dripping with a paternal affection that was as transparent as it was insincere. Naruto, ever the trusting soul, threw the door open, his eyes going wide as saucers when he saw the Hokage holding a large bag filled with expensive, brand-name snacks the boy had only ever seen in commercials.
"Jiji! You're the best!"
He was too pure to see the political calculation behind the gift—a bribe to soften the blow that was coming.
"Naruto," Raimon chimed in, his voice smooth as silk. "When you have a guest, you should always offer them your best. It's good manners."
Taking the hint immediately, Naruto happily grabbed the carton of expired milk and thrust it into Hiruzen's hands. "Here, Jiji! This is for you! It's the good stuff!"
Hiruzen stared at the carton in his hand, his face paling. The "Best Before" date seemed to mock him. He glanced nervously at Namikaze Raimon, who was watching him with a placid, almost innocent smile that didn't reach his cold eyes. The unspoken message was clear: I dare you not to drink it.
...
Gritting his teeth, Hiruzen brought the carton to his lips and chugged the entire contents in one go, wiping a white mustache from his lip with the back of his hand. "D-delicious! Thank you, Naruto, my boy!"
Better two days of explosive diarrhea than a kidney full of razor-sharp stones, he thought, trying to comfort himself. He was a shinobi, after all. His constitution could handle a little food poisoning.
"Really?!" Naruto's face lit up with pure, unadulterated joy.
He then turned and happily pulled out two entire sealed cases of the same expired milk from his cupboard, placing them proudly at the Hokage's feet.
"Then you can have all of these, Jiji! I saved them just for you!"