Konoha, a modest civilian house tucked into a quiet street.
It was Hiruko's place, and it fit him the way his life did: not too high, not too low. Comfortable on paper. Easy to overlook in practice.
He'd grown up with Tsunade, Jiraiya, and Orochimaru. The four of them had once run in the same pack, all elbows and dreams, swearing they'd make something of themselves.
Then the years happened.
It wasn't that the three of them looked down on him. Hiruko wasn't stupid enough to tell himself that.
It was worse than that. They'd pulled so far ahead he couldn't even see their backs anymore, and if he forced himself into their circle, he'd just end up being the awkward extra, the one people tolerated out of nostalgia.
Why bother making everyone annoyed?
Sometimes, alone late at night, he'd stare at his own jonin vest and try to talk himself down.
I'm a jonin. That's already one in a hundred. I should be satisfied.
But the moment he thought about what his old friends had become, the names they carried, the way people's eyes lit up when they spoke to them…
His chest would tighten. Restlessness would crawl under his skin.
So he buried himself in research instead. Drowned the noise with notes and theories, forced his mind into that cold, endless ocean where he didn't have to look up and compare himself to anyone.
It helped. It numbed. And it was the reason he'd kept some contact with Orochimaru, of all people.
A knock hit the door.
Hiruko's brow twitched. He shut his notebook and slid it away with the kind of care you used for something fragile.
He'd been on leave, finally had a few sparks of inspiration in cellular fusion, and now someone was here to ruin it.
Annoying.
He yanked the door open, and sure enough, Orochimaru stood there, smiling like he'd walked into someone else's house out of habit.
Hiruko's mouth pulled into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Well, look at you," he said. "The busy genius has time to remember I exist."
He liked telling himself he didn't care. That he was content, focused, above all that.
In reality, he watched the village like it was his job. Every shift in the wind, every rising name, every rumor that mattered, he picked apart until he could see the bones of it.
If you exaggerated, it was like he spent all day tracking Konoha's gossip and the Sannin's latest accomplishments.
So of course he'd heard the talk about the new position being created. The one aimed at elite jonin. The one everyone was whispering about.
In Hiruko's mind, Orochimaru was guaranteed a seat. Maybe more than that, eventually.
So what was this? A victory lap?
Orochimaru's eyes slid over him, catching every stiff muscle and forced casualness. His smile didn't change.
"It's not me," he said. "The Hokage wants you."
Hiruko went still.
Orochimaru continued, tone almost offhand. "I was talking with my teacher about Konoha's research talent. Your ideas came up. He said they were interesting."
Then, as if he was tossing a pebble into a pond just to watch the ripples, he added, "It might also be related to the 'Konoha Commissioner' thing."
He lifted one hand in a lazy wave. "Message delivered. Do what you want."
Hiruko's heart gave an ugly little jolt.
So the rumor had a real name. Konoha Commissioner.
And Orochimaru knew about it early. Of course he did.
That sour, bitter feeling rose in Hiruko's throat before he could stop it, but then his pupils tightened.
Wait.
He'd been so busy reacting to Orochimaru that he hadn't fully heard the other part.
The Hokage wants you.
That meant…
He had a chance.
Orochimaru's gaze sharpened, amused, like he was watching a fish realize the hook was already in its mouth.
Hiruko swallowed hard, forced his face into something calm. "I understand."
He shut the door a little too fast, waited until Orochimaru's footsteps faded, then moved like his life depended on it.
Cleanest jonin uniform. Fast. No wrinkles. He splashed water on his face, scrubbed until the cold stung, then stared into the mirror and adjusted every detail like he was going to stand in front of a firing squad.
"This is my chance," he whispered.
And the next second, fear slid in.
Would the Hokage even understand research?
Hiruzen Sarutobi had been pushing reforms lately, sure. The village felt different, like someone had cracked a window open.
But he was the Hokage. How many problems did he handle in a day? How many crises, meetings, missions, politics?
Was he really going to sit down and talk about cellular fusion? About biological engineering, one of the least popular, least understood fields?
Maybe Orochimaru had gotten him excited in conversation and the Hokage just wanted a quick look. A polite nod. A "good effort."
Hiruko tried to crush his expectations as he walked, tried to make it easier if this turned into nothing.
But the closer he got, the tighter his stomach twisted.
From a street corner, half hidden in shadow, Orochimaru watched him stride out in his crisp uniform, jaw locked, expression stiff like he didn't care at all.
The smile on Orochimaru's lips turned meaner.
"Acting indifferent," he murmured, "but braced for impact."
He tilted his head, thoughtful. "Let's see if you can pass my teacher's test."
If Hiruko became a Konoha Commissioner, then someone with research as his strongest suit would naturally lean toward Orochimaru's side.
A new ally. And a chance to pull an old friend upward instead of watching him drown in his own bitterness.
Orochimaru exhaled a soft laugh. "Am I getting sentimental?"
He shook his head as if the thought was ridiculous.
Change was good. He believed that with his whole heart.
And if he was changing too, then fine.
That was only natural.
Konoha, the Hokage Building.
Hiruzen Sarutobi sat with Tobirama Senju's research notebook in his hands, reading with the kind of absorbed enjoyment people usually reserved for forbidden novels.
Ever since he'd confirmed what the sealed black tank beneath Hokage Rock truly held, even the smallest scribbles on these pages felt loaded. Like every line had a shadow behind it.
He couldn't help thinking about how people loved scandalous "secret histories," how they latched onto the strangest enemy pairings and swore there was something there.
Wild nonsense, sure.
But it was entertaining.
And more importantly, Tobirama's notes weren't just gossip bait. They were full of real knowledge, real methodology, research paths that could be followed.
Hiruzen wasn't delusional. He didn't expect to become a scientist overnight just because he was reading Tobirama's work.
That kind of skill took hands-on experience. Failures. Time.
But the basics? The logic? The structure of how projects actually ran, what they needed, how to tell if someone was lying through their teeth?
A Hokage had to understand that much.
If he didn't, he'd end up like Danzo Shimura, getting spun in circles by people beneath him over budgets and "progress reports."
A project that hadn't even cleared the stage of being properly proposed would still have someone swearing, "We're working on it, we're working on it," while demanding more funding.
Even with Orochimaru, even with the bond between them, trust wasn't an excuse to loosen his grip.
A Hokage's carelessness didn't just create opportunity.
It created temptation.
A careful knock came at the door.
With permission granted, Hiruko took a deep breath on the other side, then stepped inside.
"Hokage-sama!"
"Hiruko," Hiruzen said, tone warm. "Sit."
He closed the notebook naturally, like he hadn't been holding something dangerous a moment ago. A teapot was already there. He tipped it and poured.
Hiruko jolted up at once. "I'll do it, I'll do it… thank you, Third Hokage-sama!"
He took the cup with both hands. The heat should've been comforting.
Instead it only made his chest burn harder.
What is this?
I'm nobody. Just a jonin with no name to speak of.
And the Hokage is pouring tea for me?
Hiruzen watched him, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Orochimaru had described Hiruko's core problem plainly: desperate for recognition.
Talented, capable, but trapped under the shadow of his peers. Measuring his worth against standards that were never fair to begin with.
If there was a system designed to fix that kind of thing, it was the Konoha Commissioner system.
But "suited" didn't mean "guaranteed."
If Hiruko wanted a place on that list, he had to prove he had something real. Hiruzen wasn't about to stuff a useless fool into a high-ranking role just because Orochimaru recommended him.
"So," Hiruzen said, steady and direct, "Orochimaru tells me you've been studying cells."
Hiruko's throat tightened. He set the cup down carefully and nodded.
"Yes, Hokage-sama. I… my focus is cellular fusion. I've been working from a basic direction, and I think it can be developed further…"
He explained his ideas cautiously, keeping his words as clean and short as possible, forcing himself to avoid jargon. Not because he was belittling the Hokage.
Because different fields really were different worlds.
But as Hiruko spoke, Hiruzen's eyes brightened.
This could work.
This could be exactly what he needed to refine a certain private "collection" belonging to a Hokage who definitely wasn't going to say its name out loud.