"So… it turns out to be like this."
Natsuhiko stood with the report in hand, his expression twisting into something oddly conflicted, as though he had stumbled upon a detail he had never expected to uncover.
Uchiha Shin… was actually Uchiha Sora's grandfather.
The report he held contained a thorough account of Shin—his background, his affiliations, even fragments of his political inclinations. Ever since the old man had approached him with clear intent, such an investigation had been inevitable. Understanding a person like that—where they came from, what they stood for, and what they truly sought—was not merely useful, but necessary.
Especially when that person belonged to the so-called "dove faction" within the Uchiha clan.
Among the Uchiha, even the doves were not to be taken lightly. If anything, they were more dangerous for the way they cloaked their sharpness beneath restraint. Dealing with such people without caution was not bravery—it was recklessness.
As he sifted through the information, many of his earlier questions found their answers. In particular, the matter that had puzzled him most—how Shin had come to seek him out—now seemed almost obvious.
"So it was because of Sora…"
Natsuhiko pressed his fingers lightly against his brow, a faint trace of realization settling in.
No wonder the girl had been assigned to accompany the main Uchiha force to the Land of Water. With her identity as it was, there had never been any real possibility of her being sent somewhere truly dangerous. Even her attempt to enter the Medical Corps—on the surface, a modest and reasonable request—now seemed far less innocent. More likely than not, it had been guided by her grandfather's hand.
Uchiha Shin had been trying, in his own way, to establish a line of connection with Konoha's upper ranks.
On the surface, the Medical Corps appeared far easier to access than the ANBU. But in truth, the difficulty of entering either was nearly equal—merely different in nature.
What made the report even more intriguing was the additional investigation into Uchiha Sora herself. It seemed that whoever compiled this file had been aware—at least to some extent—of the relationship between her and Natsuhiko, and had sought to determine whether that connection had been orchestrated from the shadows by Shin.
The conclusion was clear: there was no such link.
And truthfully, even without the report, Natsuhiko would not have believed otherwise.
Back in their academy days, he had been nothing more than an unremarkable, middling student—a "civilian ninja" in the making, with no particular distinction. The proud Uchiha clan would hardly have gone out of their way to cultivate ties with someone like him… unless they possessed the foresight to see into the future.
A faint, incredulous smile crossed his lips.
"So I ended up threatening her grandfather… and planting a seed of rebellion in his mind as well?"
The thought struck him as absurd, almost ironic. Yet after a moment, he shook his head, dismissing it. What was done was done; there was little point in dwelling on such coincidences.
If anything, he mused, perhaps Shin might one day find reason to thank him.
With that, Natsuhiko casually fed the report into the flames, watching as the paper curled and blackened before dissolving into ash. Within the ANBU, such documents met one of two fates: they were either archived… or erased entirely.
The decision depended on both the subject of the investigation and the judgment of the one handling it.
In Shin's case, as a member of the Uchiha clan, the very act of probing so deeply into his affairs was not something that could ever be made public. And since the one deciding the report's fate was Natsuhiko himself, its end had never been in doubt.
He watched until the last fragment of paper was consumed, until nothing remained but a faint trace of ash, before shifting his attention to the next document.
"The Yugakure (The Village Hidden in Hot Water)… requesting assistance. Suspected presence of a mysterious and possibly dangerous cult within their ranks?"
He skimmed it briefly, extracting the key points with practiced ease, though the deeper he read, the more peculiar his expression became.
Konoha receiving a request for aid from Yugakure was, in itself, nothing unusual. After all, the Land of Fire and the Land of Hot Water were neighboring countries, their borders touching and their fates, to some extent, intertwined.
Even though the Land of Hot Water also bordered the Land of Lightning, when it came to influence within the shinobi world, Konoha—fresh from emerging as the victor of the Third Great Ninja War—was far more reliable in the eyes of smaller nations than Kumogakure.
That was true, at least on the surface.
In reality, Kumogakure had withdrawn early from the war, preserving much of its strength and maintaining a formidable military force. But such subtleties were often lost on smaller villages like Yugakure, whose perspective rarely extended beyond reputation and immediate convenience.
Still… the mention of a "mysterious and evil cult" within Yugakure gave Natsuhiko pause.
Could they be referring to Hidan?
If so, then something about this report felt… misplaced.
Information like this should not have surfaced in Konoha so early. Otherwise, in the future, Sarutobi Asuma would not have walked so blindly into that fatal encounter with Hidan and Kakuzu—would not have been caught off guard, and would not have died in such a brutal, senseless way.
"Could it be that the ANBU failed to locate him, and the mission was ultimately sealed as a failure?"
Natsuhiko rubbed his chin thoughtfully, fragments of memory rising to the surface.
Yugakure—often called the "Village That Forgot War"—had, after the end of the great conflict, drastically reduced its investment in shinobi forces. It was a decision Natsuhiko found difficult to comprehend. Shinobi were a fundamental pillar of a nation's defense system; to weaken that pillar so deliberately was, to him, nothing short of baffling.
Had the village been impoverished, such a choice might have been understandable. But Yugakure was far from poor—in fact, it was remarkably prosperous.
And yet, it was precisely this decision that had sown the seeds of discontent.
For someone like Hidan, who craved violence and reveled in battle, such enforced peace was unbearable. Around the same time, a strange new religious sect had begun to take root within the Land of Hot Water.
Natsuhiko could not quite recall its exact name—something like the "Jashin Cult," perhaps—but the specifics hardly mattered.
What mattered was its nature.
It was, without question, a twisted and malevolent creed. Its doctrine demanded the slaughter of all those around its followers—a belief so abhorrent that any rational person would recognize it as madness at a glance.
And yet, to Hidan… it was perfect.
It resonated with him, affirmed his desires, justified his instincts, as though the cult itself had been crafted to give form to his inner impulses.
And so, Yugakure had been doomed from that moment onward.
Driven by his hatred for their pacifism, Hidan would eventually slaughter his fellow villagers through dark rituals, abandoning the village entirely before joining the Akatsuki.
These were things Natsuhiko remembered clearly—meticulously recorded in his own notes. Having long regarded such figures as potential future adversaries, he had made certain not to forget even the smallest details about them.
"Has the timeline already reached the point where Yugakure is on the brink of destruction?"
Setting the report aside, Natsuhiko fell into quiet contemplation.
If that were the case, then Konoha's ANBU should still be able to gather some form of intelligence—if not by capturing suspects, then at least by retrieving remains for analysis. And yet, from what he knew of the future, no such information had ever surfaced within Konoha.
Which meant only one thing.
It wasn't time yet.
Hidan had not made his move.
"But if Yugakure has already sent out a request for help… then Hidan must have at least come into contact with that cult. And if that's the case…"
Natsuhiko's eyes sharpened, and in the next instant, he was already on his feet.
If Hidan had already begun to grasp—or worse, fully master—that grotesque form of immortality, then his value had increased exponentially.
Setting aside everything else, that undying body alone held limitless potential.
...
A few days later, at a side exit of Konoha, Natsuhiko departed the village without ceremony, the four members of the Senju group moving swiftly behind him as they vanished into the distance.
After learning of the situation in the Land of Hot Water, Natsuhiko had already come to a quiet decision.
He would go and see it for himself.
Since he had resolved to involve himself in the incident of the Nine-Tails—and to extract the greatest possible benefit from it—then the matter of Minato Namikaze's life and death became absolutely crucial.
If Minato were to die, everything would revert to its original course. That was not what Natsuhiko wanted.
And yet, if Minato lived and continued as Hokage without interruption, then the time Natsuhiko would need to wait before advancing his own position would stretch far too long. That, too, ran counter to his interests.
Which was why the answer Senju Renge had once given him held such weight.
To involve himself directly—this was the only path that allowed him to secure immediate gains, future advantages, and the fulfillment of his own ambitions all at once.
By now, Natsuhiko possessed sufficient strength. He had earned the right to step onto that stage. More than that, he held certain… unconventional means at his disposal.
His mastery of Yang Release, for instance, allowed him to draw upon life force itself—a rare and invaluable ability, one that could be used to preserve life where others would fail.
And so, he set his objective with cold clarity:
Minato Namikaze must not die.
But neither could he be allowed to remain securely seated as the Fourth Hokage.
If Minato lived, his presence alone would serve as a restraint upon Hiruzen Sarutobi. At the same time, it would allow Natsuhiko to claim what was rightfully his.
In the long term, there were greater benefits still. Aligning himself with Minato would signal to the major clans that he did not stand with the Third Hokage. That distinction alone would ease countless hidden pressures and grant him a broader field of maneuver.
As for the position of Hokage…
If the Fourth Hokage remained alive, yet—for one reason or another—could no longer firmly hold his post, and if the Third Hokage found himself unable to fully control the village upon returning to power, then the emergence of a Fifth Hokage would become inevitable.
Conquering a realm and governing it were two entirely different endeavors. The former demanded decisiveness and ruthlessness; the latter required foresight, restraint, and a deep understanding of balance.
The lessons of his previous life—hard-won wisdom passed down through generations—remained etched firmly in Natsuhiko's mind. Even now, as he stood at the intersection of both conquest and governance, he understood precisely what was required of him, and when.
What I must do… he thought quietly, is seize that moment when the Fourth can no longer govern, and the Third steps back into power. In that gap—before stability returns—I will gather strength as quickly as possible… and then, when the time is right, push the Third from his throne.
To achieve all of this, however, there were still complications—subtle, but significant.
Foremost among them was the question of how far he should go in handling Minato's fate.
At first, Natsuhiko had considered a more discreet approach: warning Minato in advance, steering him away from using the Reaper Death Seal. There would be no need for such a sacrifice, he reasoned—simply reseal the Nine-Tails back into Kushina.
With his own "medical ninjutsu," there was even a possibility of saving Kushina's life, provided everything was managed with careful precision.
But the more he thought about it, the less viable it seemed.
At that critical moment, both Minato and Kushina would already be gravely wounded—pierced through, their lives hanging by a thread. In such circumstances, there would be no time for deliberation, no room for alternative plans.
And more importantly, Natsuhiko had no intention of revealing the full extent of his abilities. Without that knowledge, there was little reason to believe Minato's final decision would change.
Which means… I need someone unafraid of death.
Someone who could open the belly of the Shinigami itself.
Death was the one thing all people feared. Even Natsuhiko knew better than to assume he could persuade just anyone to cast aside their life so readily.
There were, of course, those in the shinobi world who did not fear death—people like Orochimaru. But such individuals were exceedingly rare. And then there was Kakuzu… whom Natsuhiko had already thoroughly offended.
More importantly, he simply did not have the kind of money it would take to convince Kakuzu to die for him even once.
This plan, in truth, was only a contingency. He still intended to subtly guide Minato Namikaze regarding the sealing method, to nudge him away from a fatal choice if possible. But relying on a single path was reckless; only by preparing both options could he ensure certainty.
He had, at one point, considered Hidan as well. Yet Hidan's timeline was frustratingly vague—Natsuhiko had no clear idea when the man had slaughtered his village and fled. Without that knowledge, there was little he could do.
But now… with this report placed directly in his hands, if he still chose inaction, then he would have no one to blame but himself.
"Although every division has access to this information," Natsuhiko murmured, a faint smile forming at the corner of his lips as he glanced back at the four Senju shinobi behind him, currently exchanging information with the ANBU guards at the gate, "none of them would think to personally step out and handle it the way I will."
Over the past few days, he had spent his time laying the groundwork—carefully navigating relationships and expectations. He had told Minato that his division required time for training, that he himself had little pressing duty at the moment, and thus wished to take on this mission. With Hiruzen Sarutobi, he had framed it differently, speaking of his desire to earn merit and repay the Hokage's recognition.
It had taken some maneuvering, but in the end, he secured the opportunity.
Truthfully, there were moments when Natsuhiko felt an almost irresistible urge to cast aside all pretense and confront Hiruzen directly—to tear away the mask of obedience and stand against him openly. But he knew better.
The time had not yet come.
Perhaps, once he rose further—once he stood firmly as a true leader within the ANBU—he could afford a more forceful stance.
He had endured enough of playing the obedient subordinate, swallowing his pride when necessary. But for now, he was still only a division commander.
To truly break with Hiruzen, two conditions had to be met.
First, he would need to purge all dissenting voices within the ANBU, until every operative answered to him alone.
Second, Hiruzen himself would have to make a grave mistake—one so significant that it would turn the sentiment of the entire village against him.
The first would take time. Hiruzen's influence in Konoha ran deep, cultivated over many years; uprooting it would not be accomplished in a mere year or two.
The second, however…
That might come far sooner.
From what Natsuhiko remembered, there would come a day when Hiruzen mishandled matters involving the Hyūga clan—an incident that would leave a stain difficult to erase.
"The information is already in my hands. Opportunities… must be seized."
His gaze shifted forward as the four Senju shinobi finished their exchange and returned to his side. Adjusting his mask, Natsuhiko stepped ahead without hesitation, leading the way out of the village.
At nearly the same time, another ANBU squad departed as well—led by Kakashi.
Among them was one particularly notable figure: Pakura.
After careful preparation, and under Natsuhiko's arrangements, the two groups set out in near unison.
Natsuhiko had no intention of leaving her behind within the ANBU. A wielder of akekkei genkai like hers was too valuable—and too vulnerable—in a village that was far from as peaceful as it appeared.
There were always those watching from the shadows.
Danzō, for one, had remained conspicuously quiet, but that silence did not mean disinterest. It was entirely possible that his gaze had already fallen upon Pakura.
And that, Natsuhiko would not allow.
He had no intention of handing her—or anyone—over to Danzō.
As long as he remained in Konoha, he could exert control. But now that he was leaving, precautions had to be made.
Which was why Kakashi would take her along.
There were things she was destined to witness—
things she could not avoid forever.