"For now, let's conclude the discussion regarding Kushina's childbirth."
"Understood, Lord Third. In truth, I believe the current level of protection should already be sufficient."
"No," came the calm but firm reply. "For Kushina, no degree of caution can ever be considered excessive."
Within the Hokage's office, Minato Namikaze, Hiruzen Sarutobi, Homura Mitokado, Koharu Utatane, along with Shikaku Nara and others such as Murashima Takumi, were gathered together, deep in discussion over a matter of utmost importance—Kushina.
It had already been some time since Kushina Uzumaki became pregnant. Her expected delivery was in October, and now, without anyone quite noticing when it had happened, September had already arrived. In less than a month, she would give birth—and at that moment, Minato and Kushina would take on new identities: father and mother.
But Kushina's situation was anything but ordinary.
She was the jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails.
For any jinchūriki—especially a woman—the most dangerous moment came during childbirth. Not only would she face the inherent risks of bringing a new life into the world, but at the same time, the seal binding the tailed beast would weaken, exposing her to the terrifying threat sealed within her.
And there was something even more alarming.
If outsiders were to learn of the exact timing of her delivery, it would present the perfect opportunity for an attack—one that could bring catastrophic consequences upon the village.
At a moment like this, neither Minato nor Hiruzen, both bearing the title of Hokage, allowed personal disagreements to surface. Whatever differences they might hold in private, whatever conflicting stances they might harbor, all of it was set aside.
When it came to Konoha's safety, unity was not a choice—it was a necessity.
Yet even so, Minato found himself more anxious than ever before. After all, he was not only the Hokage—he was also a husband, and soon, a father.
And perhaps because of that, he realized he had underestimated just how seriously Hiruzen regarded this matter.
The security arrangements laid out by Hiruzen far exceeded his expectations.
A considerable number of personnel had already been selected. The one responsible for assisting in the delivery would be Hiruzen's own wife, Biwako Sarutobi. Alongside her would be elite ANBU operatives assigned to protection and response, as well as a small team from the sealing corps.
Most crucial of all—
Minato himself would be present.
Such a configuration was so formidable that it would have been considered excessive even for a top-secret mission.
"…I understand, Lord Third," Minato said at last, gathering the documents spread across the desk. After a moment's thought, he raised another question. "Then regarding the selection of ANBU personnel—do you have any suggestions? You are, after all, more familiar with them than I am."
Hiruzen smiled faintly, his expression composed and unreadable.
"It's only natural that you're not yet familiar," he replied. "The ANBU is a vast system. Understanding it takes time—there's no need to rush. In the future, these matters will fall entirely under your control."
The future…
It was always something to look forward to, yet never something one could truly grasp. More an ideal than a reality—a distant goal that compelled one to keep moving forward.
Minato heard the answer and felt a quiet sigh stir within him, though none of it showed on his face. This was not the time to dwell on such thoughts.
"Perhaps that will be the case," he said softly, shaking his head before looking back up. "Still—regarding the personnel, Third Hokage… do you have anyone in mind?"
"Given that we cannot assign too many people, and must avoid disrupting the ANBU's regular operations," Hiruzen Sarutobi said without the slightest pause, "we should select those with long service records and sufficient strength."
His answer came swiftly—and, if anything, it was a restrained one. Left to his own preference, he might even have involved Root in the operation. Yet he knew full well that Minato Namikaze would not welcome such a proposal, and so he chose not to voice it.
Selecting personnel from within the ANBU posed no real issue in itself. The true difficulty lay in whether enough suitable candidates could be spared. The ANBU already bore a heavy workload, and this mission demanded absolute secrecy. Aside from those directly involved, no one else could be allowed to know—only in this way could the risk of information leaks be minimized.
Even within the ANBU, this rule held firm.
"Very well," Hiruzen continued after a moment. "I will provide you with a list within two days, Fourth Hokage."
"Thank you, Lord Third," Minato replied with a slight nod. Then, as if recalling something, he added, "By the way, I believe Nightingale is still on leave, is that correct?"
"Nightingale…"
At the mention of Natsuhiko, Hiruzen paused briefly before a faint smile returned to his face.
"Yes, he is still on leave. He personally made a trip to the Land of Hot Water not long ago—rather unexpected initiative for a division commander. For now, he is resting, though whether that remains the case a month from now is another matter."
"I believe he'll be available," Minato said with a small, confident smile. "This is something that can be arranged, and Nightingale has already proven his strength. With him involved, things would be safer."
"That is true—he has proven himself. It's worth considering."
Hiruzen appeared hesitant on the surface, though in truth, there was not the slightest trace of doubt in his heart. If anything, he wished for nothing more than for Natsuhiko to grow closer to Minato.
The boy's ambition was undeniable—vast, even dangerous—but everything Natsuhiko desired, Hiruzen was capable of providing. Even if those promises amounted to little more than empty assurances, they would be enough to keep him within reach, walking the path Hiruzen set for him.
As for the future…
That was no longer his concern.
The future belonged to the young, as it always did. By the time it truly arrived, Konoha would likely rest entirely in Minato's hands. All Hiruzen needed to do was guide—tame—him properly, and, when the time came, make clear the nature of his past dealings with Natsuhiko. After that, there would always be someone willing to deal with a young man of such boundless ambition.
For now, however, Natsuhiko was a piece he intended to use—and the closer he stood to Minato, the better.
Still, there were limits. Without revealing his own connection to Natsuhiko, it was sufficient that others knew only that he hailed from the Senju lineage.
"…Very well, I understand your thinking," Hiruzen said at last, letting out a quiet sigh. "Since this concerns Kushina's safety, having Nightingale involved would indeed be beneficial. Though… no matter. I trust the Fourth Hokage will handle it appropriately."
"Rest assured, Nightingale—" Minato began, unconcerned by Hiruzen's tone, but before he could finish, a knock sounded at the door of the Hokage's office.
At that moment, several of those seated within the room quietly exhaled in relief.
The discussion between the two Hokage had already begun to brush against the delicate matter of authority over the ANBU—territory far too dangerous for most to tread lightly.
Only a few remained composed: Koharu Utatane, Homura Mitokado, and Murashima Takumi, the Commander of Konoha's ANBU.
Everyone present was intelligent enough to grasp the undercurrents shaping Konoha's current state—and it was precisely that awareness that made the situation so troubling.
To align oneself carelessly with either side in such a struggle for power…
was to risk losing everything.
Beyond that, the discussion had already begun to touch upon certain secrets of the ANBU—matters far too sensitive for most of those present to hear. It was not knowledge they wished to carry.
Fortunately, someone had interrupted the conversation—whoever it might be.
"Hokage-sama, esteemed elders."
The door swung open, and an ANBU operative rushed inside. Without pause, he dropped to one knee, his breath still uneven from haste.
"What is it?" Minato Namikaze asked directly. "Why the urgency?"
"Hokage-sama… it's Division Commander Nightingale…" The operative took a quick breath before continuing, his voice tightening. "Division Commander Nightingale has killed members of Root."
"What?"
The atmosphere in the Hokage's office shifted instantly, turning strange and heavy.
Nightingale… had killed Root operatives?
What could possibly have happened to push him to such an extreme?
Conflicts between the ANBU and Root were not unheard of. Disputes arising from overlapping missions or conflicting orders were, if not common, then at least not unusual. But even so, both sides had always exercised restraint. After all, they were shinobi of the same village.
Never—never—had matters escalated to bloodshed.
And yet now, Natsuhiko had not only clashed with them—he had crossed that final line and killed them outright.
"What exactly happened?" Hiruzen Sarutobi asked, his brows knitting tightly together. A dull pressure seemed to build behind his temples; this was a development he had not anticipated.
In his memory, Natsuhiko had always worn a gentle smile, rarely displaying any excessive or impulsive behavior. This… this was entirely unlike him.
"Third Hokage-sama, the situation is as follows," the ANBU operative said, steadying himself as he spoke.
"A week ago, Captain Kakashi Hatake escorted Pakura of Sunagakure—who had been held in prison—on a mission outside the village. Upon their return, Division Commander Nightingale appeared to be arranging a position for her. It seems… she had already been recruited."
He hesitated briefly, then forced himself to continue.
"Shortly after, Root operatives arrived at the Third Division headquarters. Acting under Danzo Shimura's orders, and without authorization from the Hokage, they attempted to forcibly take Pakura away. Furthermore…"
He paused again, as though weighing the consequences of his words, before finally pressing on.
"They declared Captain Kakashi a rogue ninja and prepared to attack."
Silence hung for a heartbeat.
"Division Commander Nightingale then arrived," the operative continued, his voice growing heavier. "He… declared those Root operatives to be rogue as well… and proceeded to eliminate them. One by one. No survivors."
When he finished, he fell silent, head bowed.
The room sank into a deeper stillness.
Now they understood what had happened—but the clarity only made matters more complicated, more uncomfortable.
Especially for Shikaku Nara, who seemed almost ready to press his face flat against the table and pretend he had heard nothing at all. This was no longer a simple incident—it touched upon the deeper, far more dangerous conflict between Root and the ANBU.
And in that, it also revealed just how unrestrained Root could be.
Few among them held any fondness for Root. Aside from Hiruzen himself and perhaps a select few, most in the room shared similar sentiments. Deep down, some might even have felt a grim satisfaction at seeing Root suffer such a loss.
But satisfaction was meaningless here.
This was not something they wanted to know—nor something they dared to know.
And so they remained silent, feigning ignorance, waiting to see how the two Hokage would resolve this volatile situation.
"Root… attempting to seize someone from the ANBU without authorization?"
While the others avoided involvement, both Hiruzen and Minato's expressions shifted subtly. Neither had expected Danzō to go this far.
Hiruzen, however, could guess the reasoning.
After all, he had known Danzō since childhood—had watched him grow, step by step… and, in many ways, had been the one to guide him down the path that led to what he had become today.
Hiruzen Sarutobi had always been willing to grant Danzo Shimura a certain degree of autonomy, and part of that reason lay in how deeply he understood him. In many ways, Danzō was his shadow.
And what was a shadow, if not an extension of the self?
Everything Danzō did carried, to some extent, Hiruzen's own will within it.
There was also something else—something more personal. A form of compensation.
Danzō had once dreamed of becoming Hokage, yet Hiruzen had been the one to push him into the darkness, to confine him there, ensuring he would never step into the light, nor be permitted to do so. For a subordinate of such ambition, it had been a necessary decision. But for a friend…
It was cruel.
And so, Hiruzen had chosen to make concessions. To allow Danzō a measure of freedom, to turn a blind eye to certain actions. Even when those actions brushed against his bottom line, as long as they did not endanger Konoha itself, he could tolerate them.
But this time was different.
Danzō had reached too far.
To extend his hand into the ANBU so brazenly, to provoke a conflict of this magnitude—it was enough to stir genuine anger within Hiruzen.
Had Danzō succeeded quietly—taken the person and left without incident—Hiruzen might have forced himself to accept it. But that was not what had happened.
There had been no Hokage authorization. Root had acted solely under Danzō's command, arrogantly branding others as rogue ninja and igniting a direct clash between Root and the ANBU—something unprecedented.
And worse still, all of this had unfolded at a time when the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki was less than a month away from giving birth.
How could Hiruzen not be furious?
Yes, it was Natsuhiko—Nightingale—who had ultimately drawn blood. But Natsuhiko did not know the full gravity of Konoha's current situation.
Danzō did.
If no one had died, perhaps Hiruzen could have allowed the matter to pass in silence. But now… that was no longer possible.
You've overstepped, Danzō.
The anger in Hiruzen's heart simmered, but it was nothing compared to the storm rising within Minato Namikaze.
He had never imagined that Danzō would go this far.
To act so brazenly—it was as though he held no regard for the Hokage at all. Perhaps, in his own mind, he believed himself to be the true shadow behind the title, the one whose decisions alone were correct.
Did he not understand the state Konoha was in?
A direct clash between ANBU and Root—did he truly not consider the consequences? The casualties it could cause? The chaos it could unleash?
And if word of this incident were to spread—combined with Kushina's condition—what kind of danger would it bring upon the village? Upon her?
The thought alone made Minato restless, a tension coiling within him that he struggled to suppress.
But he was the Hokage.
And a Hokage must remain composed.
It took him a long moment before he finally drew a deep breath, forcing himself into calm.
Only with a clear mind could he hope to navigate the turmoil ahead.
...
Deep within Root's hidden base, Danzo Shimura sat alone, lost in thought.
His mind turned over the matter of Pakura—how he would deal with her once she was brought back, and how he would handle the inevitable reaction from Hiruzen and the others.
To him, there was nothing wrong with what he had done.
Hiruzen and Minato were occupied in their meeting; they had no time to interfere. As long as he acted swiftly enough, he could seize Pakura and secure the outcome before anyone had the chance to respond.
"…That meeting regarding the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki's childbirth—and they didn't even summon me."
The thought alone caused a flicker of anger to rise within him, one he could scarcely contain.
The protection of the jinchūriki during childbirth was a matter of utmost importance to Konoha—a task that required coordination from multiple sides to prepare for every possible contingency.
And yet, he had been excluded.
This meeting—one of such critical importance—had proceeded without him.
What did that imply?
Either, in the eyes of many, he was no longer someone worthy of trust… or someone had deliberately moved against him behind the scenes.
To Danzō, both possibilities felt equally plausible.
Root's methods within Konoha had long drawn resentment. It was only natural that many would come to distrust him, even despise him. But such sentiments meant nothing to him. As a man who wielded the power of life and death over others, why should he concern himself with the opinions of the weak?
He wouldn't.
As for the second possibility, his thoughts settled firmly on Minato Namikaze—that troublesome upstart.
Minato had, more than once, proposed sweeping changes within Konoha, with particular emphasis on the treatment of the Uchiha clan. Every one of those proposals had been rejected—dismissed outright by both Danzo Shimura himself and Hiruzen Sarutobi.
They had no intention of altering the current structure of the village. To do so would disrupt the delicate web of interests that bound them—and such disruption would serve no benefit to those who stood at its center.
Of course, they were not alone in this. Others lurked within that web, their influence subtle but undeniable.
But Danzō knew Minato likely did not see them, nor would he dare challenge Hiruzen directly. After all, Hiruzen was also a Hokage.
And so, as the one who had most consistently opposed Minato's reforms, Danzō became the natural target of his frustration—forced to swallow the consequences.
"That wretched brat… If only I were Hokage, I would never have fallen to such a position. Does he not understand that everything I do is for Konoha?"
The thought churned within him, bitter and unyielding.
Yet there was one truth he would likely never accept: the very actions he believed righteous were the reason he could never become Hokage.
To be despised by the great clans and those who held power within the village was to stand alone—unsupported, unwanted. In his own eyes, he was a man of absolute authority, one who held dominion over life and death.
But in the eyes of others?
He was nothing more than a rat lurking in the sewers.
And such a creature—reviled, feared, and hidden from the light—could never ascend to a position that demanded openness, legitimacy, and the trust of the people.
Perhaps Danzō understood this, deep down.
Perhaps he simply did not care.
To him, hatred was indistinguishable from fear—and fear was all he needed.
He had no desire to appear noble or virtuous. Trust was unnecessary. What he sought was submission.
For only through fear could obedience be forged. Only through fear would others bow their heads.
In Danzō's worldview, power was the ultimate truth. No matter the era, no matter the position, strength alone was enough to force the world to kneel.
It was, undeniably, a dangerous belief.
For a man like him, should he ever truly rise to rule, the consequences would be catastrophic beyond measure.
In the original story, after Danzo became acting Hokage, not a single clan was willing to provide personnel for his so-called guard.
And after Danzo died with the bridge, Konoha remained eerily calm. No one even spoke of avenging him.
Perhaps for Konoha at that time, not setting off firecrackers in celebration was already the utmost restraint.
For someone to reach Danzo's level could only be described as an utter failure..
"Lord Danzo!"
The sharp urgency of a voice cut through his thoughts.
Danzō frowned slightly, lifting his head as a Root operative rushed in and dropped to one knee before him. The man said nothing at first—only waited.
After a moment, Danzō let out a low, displeased snort.
In the next instant, the Root operative collapsed to the ground.
His body convulsed violently, muscles seizing as though gripped by an invisible hand, while sweat poured from him in torrents, soaking through his clothes in moments. Yet he made no sound—no scream, no cry of pain. Even as the agony ravaged him, he forced himself to endure in silence.
Slowly, trembling with effort, he pushed himself back up.
Step by step, breath ragged and body shaking, he knelt once more before Danzo Shimura, bowing his head as if nothing had happened. The pain had not vanished—it gnawed at him relentlessly, clawing at his mind—but he dared not show weakness, dared not even shift too much, as though the slightest misstep would invite something worse.
For a long while, the room was silent save for the faint, steady sound of sweat dripping onto the floor.
"There won't be a next time."
At last, Danzō spoke. His voice was cold—flat, devoid of warmth.
"If there is… you will end your life yourself."
"Yes, Lord Danzo. Thank you, Lord Danzo."
The moment those words fell, the agony vanished.
Relief flooded the man so abruptly it felt like rebirth, as though he had been dragged back from the brink. But there was no gratitude in the ordinary sense—only obedience. Absolute, unquestioning obedience.
He would never resist. He would never even allow himself the thought.
Danzō was his master.
And a servant did not defy his master.
"Speak," Danzō said, withdrawing his gaze as if the man were already of no consequence. "What is it?"
"Lord Danzo…" The operative hesitated, his voice tight, as though even speaking the words required courage. "At the entrance to our division… seven packages have been delivered."
He paused, then forced himself onward.
"If there are no mistakes… they contain human heads."
"Human heads? Seven?"
For the first time, Danzō's expression shifted.
He rose abruptly, his movements sharp and controlled, and strode toward the exit without another word. The operative scrambled to his feet, still weakened, struggling to keep pace behind him.
They moved quickly.
Before long, they reached the main hall—already filled with gathered Root operatives. At the center stood a long table, and upon it lay seven packages, neatly arranged.
From beneath them, dark blood seeped slowly outward.
To men like them, there was no need to open the packages to know what lay inside.
Danzō's gaze hardened as it fell upon the scene. Even in his darkest imaginings, he had not expected this.
Seven packages.
Seven heads.
And he had sent out exactly seven men.
The conclusion required no voice.
"…Open them."
After a long moment, Danzō drew in a breath, forcing his emotions down, his tone returning to its usual, measured calm.
"Lord Danzo.." one of the operatives began hesitantly.
"OPEN THEM!"
The interruption was immediate—sharp, absolute.
"…Yes, Lord Danzo."
The operative bowed his head and stepped forward, gesturing for six others to join him. Though they already knew what they would find, none dared to disobey.
One by one, they began to unwrap the parcels.
As the first layer came loose, bloodstained masks slipped free and clattered softly onto the table.
The men froze for a fraction of a second.
Then, almost instinctively, they turned to glance at Danzō.
He did not speak.
His expression remained unchanged, though the grip on his cane tightened until it creaked faintly under the strain.
Silently, they continued.
When the final wrappings fell away, they stepped back at once, as though the sight itself carried weight.
Danzo looked at everything before him, especially Aburame Tatsuma's face with its unseeing, resentful eyes. He could no longer control the strength in his grip!
Crack.
His cane snapped in his hand. His inner rage could no longer be contained.
His men… had been killed.
The operatives he had dispatched—eliminated.
And not by an enemy village.
By the ANBU.
Death itself did not anger him; Root operatives who lacked strength were expendable—if they died, it was their own failure. But this—
This was different.
This was failure.
This was defiance.
This was provocation.
Who, in all of Konoha, would dare such a thing?
And who possessed the strength to see it through?
"…Nightingale."
The name surfaced unbidden in his thoughts.
After all, who else could it be?
Reports from Sunagakure had already reached him; he knew well enough the terrifying ability that young man possessed. And yet, in his memory, that same man had always worn a gentle expression, treating others with an easy courtesy that bordered on softness.
It was a demeanor Danzō disdained.
Even if the boy harbored ambition, Danzō had never considered it worth notice—because he had never intended to give him the chance to grow.
And yet now…
It seemed he had underestimated him.
For a long time, Danzō stood in silence, his gaze fixed upon the table. His fist clenched, then loosened, then clenched again, over and over, as if wrestling with something deep within himself.
At last, he exhaled and waved his hand sharply.
He understood.
For now… there would be no retaliation.
Not at this moment.
Not with the village standing on the edge of something far more fragile.
Even if he wished to act, he could not.
"…Just wait," he murmured inwardly, his thoughts darkening. "When the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki has given birth…"
Danzo Shimura turned sharply, anger still burning beneath his composed exterior. Yet before he could act further, a commotion stirred within Root's headquarters. Voices rose in hushed urgency, and not long after, an ANBU operative stepped forward, stopping at a measured distance before him.
"Lord Danzō, my apologies for the interruption," the man said evenly. "The Hokage requests your presence in his office—immediately."
...
"Hokage-sama… that is what happened."
Standing within the Hokage's office, Natsuhiko recounted everything calmly, his voice steady as he faced both Minato Namikaze and Hiruzen Sarutobi.
After leading the ANBU in the swift execution of the Root operatives, he had wasted no time in dispatching a messenger to report the incident. At the same time, he had arranged for a "gift" to be delivered to Root's entrance—a silent, unmistakable declaration of his stance.
He knew perfectly well what consequences such actions would invite.
But knowing did not mean he would refrain.
He was no longer the cautious, hesitant man he once had been.
His outward demeanor—his carefully maintained persona—could remain unchanged, but his actions no longer needed to be restrained. If others dared to press against him and he failed to respond, then how could his subordinates ever place their trust in him again?
"This matter… you went too far."
Hiruzen sighed softly, his voice carrying a trace of weariness. "They were all shinobi of Konoha. It did not need to escalate to this extent."
"Hokage-sama," Natsuhiko replied, lowering his gaze slightly, though his tone remained composed and unwavering, "the ANBU belong to the Hokage. Without your direct authorization, no one has the right to interfere—no matter who they are. And Pakura… is now one of my subordinates."
At that, Hiruzen let out a faint chuckle.
He could see through the subtle maneuvering—the careful phrasing, the quiet assertion of principle. But what of it?
Natsuhiko was not wrong.
The ANBU did belong to the Hokage, and that was a principle Hiruzen himself upheld. This was both a justification and a declaration—a line drawn with deliberate clarity.
This boy… his methods are becoming increasingly refined.
Hiruzen thought it to himself, though he said nothing further. What was done was done.
Beside him, Minato gave a small nod, though his expression remained thoughtful.
"My view is much the same as the Third Hokage's," he said, shaking his head lightly. "You acted excessively. They were still shinobi of Konoha, and your methods were… too ruthless."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"However, considering that they acted without authorization, falsely accused an ANBU Division Commander, and attempted to forcibly take one of your subordinates… they brought this upon themselves."
"I understand," Natsuhiko said quietly. "I failed to restrain my anger. If this brings trouble upon the village, I am willing to accept any punishment."
"Punishment is inevitable," Minato replied. "I can overlook provocation, but the manner in which you displayed their deaths—beheading and sending them as a message—is far too severe. That alone cannot go unanswered."
His tone shifted slightly, becoming more resolute.
"However, before that… I have a mission for you. A classified one."
Natsuhiko lifted his head slightly. "Please give your orders, Hokage-sama."
"In one month's time," Minato said, his gaze steady, "you will join my personal guard. There is someone you will be tasked with protecting. Do you understand?"
Natsuhiko did not hesitate.
"Yes, Hokage-sama."
...
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