Join the guard… and protect someone?
As Natsuhiko stepped out of the Hokage's office, he turned Minato Namikaze's words over in his mind, an unreadable expression flickering across his face.
He already knew what this mission truly meant.
If nothing unexpected occurred… then the one destined to become the future savior of this world was about to be born.
"How quickly time passes…"
It truly did.
Without his noticing, events had carried them to this very moment. And what amused him most was that he himself would be directly involved in it.
Originally, Natsuhiko had assumed this matter would have nothing to do with him. After all, even Kakashi Hatake had not been assigned to it. Now that it was already September and the air had begun to cool, with no prior notice reaching him, he had all but concluded he would remain uninvolved.
Yet today, he had been personally summoned and informed.
It was unexpected—but not troubling.
"The only real issue…" he mused inwardly, "is that I'll likely have to face Obito head-on."
When it came to Obito Uchiha, Natsuhiko couldn't deny a certain wariness. The man's abilities were… troublesome, to say the least.
Still, wariness was not fear.
If it truly came to a fight, he had no intention of backing down. Both of them wielded space-time techniques—different in form, perhaps, but similar at their core.
In the end, it would come down to one thing:
Whoever faltered first would lose.
"…Hm?"
As he walked, Natsuhiko suddenly noticed someone approaching from the opposite direction. Lifting his gaze, he paused—then smiled faintly.
It was Danzo Shimura.
Danzō had clearly noticed him as well. The moment his eyes fell upon Natsuhiko's mask, anger flared visibly in his gaze.
They were, after all, cut from similar cloth—both rooted in the shadows of Konoha. And given what Natsuhiko had done in Sunagakure, there was no way Danzō would fail to recognize him.
"Division Commander Nightingale," Danzō said, coming to a halt as he turned to face him, his voice low and heavy. "Impressive methods. Truly worthy of one whose name echoes through the ANBU. Even I find your ruthlessness difficult to match."
"You flatter me, Lord Danzō," Natsuhiko replied softly.
He lifted his hand and removed his mask, revealing a gentle, almost harmless smile—one that seemed entirely at odds with the blood on his hands.
"Compared to the 'Shinobi of Darkness,' my methods are hardly worth mentioning."
Tilting his head slightly, he continued with a light tone, "Come to think of it, this is our first meeting. To have my name remembered by Lord Danzō… I'm honored."
"Oh, I remember you well," Danzō replied, his voice steady, though the cold pressure radiating from him grew heavier with each word. "Not only are you Konoha's Nightingale—you are Senju Natsuhiko."
The air seemed to tighten.
"How fares the Senju clan?" he continued, his gaze sharp and probing. "As a member of Sensei's lineage, I imagine you would know quite well."
"What are you saying, Lord Danzō?"
Natsuhiko blinked, feigning innocence, then spread his hands slightly with a faint chuckle.
"My name is Fukami Natsuhiko. Perhaps you're mistaken?"
"If you wish to investigate that clan, I'd be happy to assist—after all, I am a member of the ANBU. Though I've never even heard of such a family, so I imagine it's hardly significant."
He paused deliberately, his eyes meeting Danzō's.
"But the Shimura clan… that one I know quite well. With so many people, it's only natural—"
His voice slowed, each word measured.
"—that a forest grows large enough, all kinds of birds will gather. It might be wise to keep a closer watch, Lord Danzō. And your methods of… dealing with certain individuals… are truly something to learn from."
Silence fell.
The two stood facing one another, neither speaking further.
Natsuhiko's expression remained calm, unchanged.
Danzō's, however, darkened visibly.
There was no way Natsuhiko had failed to understand his meaning—Danzō's words had been far too explicit. And judging by the tension in the air, the man before him was already seething.
As Natsuhiko faced Danzō, there was not the slightest trace of fear in his heart—especially not at a moment like this. Whether in terms of his own strength or the broader climate within Konoha, there was simply no reason for him to be wary.
From a purely personal standpoint, the Uchiha clan still stood intact within the village; where, then, would Danzō obtain a technique like Izanagi? Even acquiring a sufficient number of Sharingan would be no simple feat.
And truth be told, even if Izanagi were in play, Natsuhiko did not find it particularly frightening. Unlike Izanami, which could trap one endlessly within illusion, Izanagi merely twisted reality to simulate resurrection. At best, it allowed one to survive long enough to gather information—but it offered no true enhancement to defense. If he could kill Danzō once, he could do so again.
There was, perhaps, one thing in the future that might give him pause—the Mangekyō Sharingan capable of casting Kotoamatsukami—but that was a concern for another time. As things stood now, Danzō possessed none of it.
Beyond strength alone, the circumstances within Konoha itself worked against any reckless move. What time was this? It was the eve of Kushina's childbirth—the moment when the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki would be at her most vulnerable. If Danzō dared to stir chaos now, Natsuhiko would not even need to act; Minato himself would undoubtedly intervene without hesitation.
And Natsuhiko's earlier words had already made his stance clear. If Danzō wished to threaten others through their loved ones, then he should be prepared to face the same in return. After all, the methods Danzō so often employed were not beyond Natsuhiko's reach.
It was precisely this unspoken understanding that darkened Danzō's expression further. Had this been the Natsuhiko of a few months prior, such boldness would have been unthinkable. Without strength, status, or backing, words like those would have invited nothing short of ruin.
But things had changed. Natsuhiko now possessed both power and position. Though he might not yet rival the legendary White Fang, he stood under the shadow—and protection—of the Hokage himself.
The White Fang had been crushed beneath the weight of public condemnation because he stood alone. It had been wartime then, and Konoha had needed an example—a warning to all shinobi that the mission came above all else. But now, the war had ended. The village had entered a period of recovery, and with it came a shift in governance. Policies that once demanded ruthless sacrifice could no longer be applied so blindly.
Why else would the ideals of the village change so drastically over time? Years ago, Kakashi had believed missions outweighed everything; years later, Konoha would come to cherish bonds and camaraderie above all. It was not sentimentality—it was necessity, the natural evolution of a village adapting to peace.
Danzō, however, could not see this. Men like him, bound to the logic of a harsher age, were destined to be left behind.
And so, Natsuhiko did not fear him—nor did he feel any need to.
After a long silence, Danzō finally inclined his head, his voice as cold and measured as ever. "I will remember your warning, Division Commander Nightingale. But you would do well to remember mine."
Natsuhiko offered a slight bow, a gentle smile playing across his lips. "Your words, Lord Danzō, will be carefully heeded and never forgotten."
"Remember this," Danzō continued, his gaze sharp as a blade. "My eyes are now upon you. I expect you to perform well."
"Then I shall not disappoint," Natsuhiko replied calmly.
With that, he turned and left the Hokage's building, making his way back toward the Third Division. The incident with Root—the provocation and his decisive retaliation—had, for the moment, come to an end.
Minato had spoken of punishment, of consequences yet to come. But even if such reckoning awaited him, it would have to wait until after the Nine-Tails incident. And by then… whether Minato would even have the time—or the capacity—to pursue such matters remained uncertain.
Death, however, was not an outcome Natsuhiko intended to allow. He had already begun shaping his plans, ensuring that Minato would not meet the fate history seemed so eager to impose. At the very least, the Hokage would survive—though recovery might demand time.
And that was acceptable.
Because for Natsuhiko, the future was no longer something to be passively awaited—it was something to be seized, altered, and ultimately, controlled.
So there are things that must be settled in advance.
With that thought, Natsuhiko quickened his pace. The time left to him was short, and within that narrow window he would have to put everything in order—every loose thread tied, every hidden danger accounted for. More than that, this fleeting period might very well determine the course of his future.
As for Danzō… there was no doubt he would bear a grudge. Yet Natsuhiko understood that it was not the deaths of his subordinates that truly stung. A man as cold as Danzō, one who saw others merely as tools in his pursuit of the Hokage's seat, would not waste emotion on such losses. What he valued was his pride—his authority, his face. And that was precisely what Natsuhiko had struck.
To be humiliated so thoroughly, and then to have the severed heads of his own men returned as a grim message… it was a provocation few could endure. Natsuhiko could not help but think, with a trace of dark humor, that if someone did the same to him, it might even cure low blood pressure outright.
Still, no matter how deep Danzō's resentment ran, he would not act recklessly now—especially not after facing the two Hokage.
"Expecting him to fall anytime soon is unrealistic," Natsuhiko mused inwardly. "He's still a blade in Sarutobi Hiruzen's hand… one the old man has no intention of discarding. But forcing him to lie low for a while? That should be manageable."
And that was enough. As long as Danzō kept still, Natsuhiko could move without restraint. Once the matter of the Nine-Tails was resolved, he would have more than enough ways to deal with him.
If all else failed… assassination remained an option.
Though, in truth, that was the crudest of methods—particularly in a struggle of power and influence. Unless there was no alternative, Natsuhiko had no desire to resort to something so inelegant.
"Division Commander!"
The moment he returned to the base, voices rose to greet him. Members of the Third Division of the ANBU gathered quickly, one after another, forming a loose circle around him. These were the same shinobi who had taken part in the earlier confrontation, who had stood with him in sealing off the Root operatives.
Even Trout hurried over, having abandoned his training session with the recruits the instant he heard the news. As a veteran of the Third Division, he knew better than most just how deeply their division commander, Kusunoki, had once been entangled with Root. Though that connection had largely vanished with Kusunoki's death, the mere reappearance of Root's shadow was enough to sour his mood.
Especially when he learned that they had come to forcibly take Pakura.
Within the Third Division, her situation had never been entirely secret. Everyone knew she had been captured and imprisoned, yet curiously, she had never been subjected to interrogation—only routine blood draws, all while being treated with surprising care. Such treatment spoke volumes. To Trout, it had always been clear that she had only two possible fates: to become one of them… or to die.
What followed only confirmed his suspicions. Kakashi had taken her out on a mission—a test, no doubt, to determine her future. And when she returned alongside him, it was obvious: the Third Division had gained a new comrade, one who possessed a rare bloodline.
But Root's sudden arrival shattered any illusion of simplicity. Talents like Pakura were not something they would relinquish easily.
Then came the moment that truly stunned him—Kakashi's outright refusal, delivered with unyielding firmness, citing the lack of a Hokage's order. In all his years, Trout had never seen anyone confront Root so directly.
Everything that followed felt both inevitable and shocking. Root would not back down; conflict was unavoidable. And once it began, their commander—Natsuhiko, the Nightingale—would inevitably step in.
What Trout had not anticipated… was just how far he would go.
Not only had Natsuhiko eliminated them all without hesitation—
he had sent their heads back.
What did this amount to?
Nothing less than the gravest form of provocation.
Trout could not fathom what his commander had been thinking, nor why he had chosen such a path. In his mind, an act like that could only lead to one outcome—the replacement of their commander. And yet, to his utter disbelief, Natsuhiko had returned, standing before them as if nothing were amiss.
"Thank you for your hard work," Natsuhiko said with a faint smile, glancing at the growing crowd around him. He shook his head lightly. "But don't gather here like this. You all have duties to attend to, and you may be called out at any moment. Don't let something like this delay what you're meant to do."
"Division Commander…" Trout hesitated before stepping forward, lowering his voice. "Are you… alright?"
"Don't worry," Natsuhiko replied calmly, as though the matter were trivial. "The Hokage did reprimand me, and I will be punished for the… rather provocative way I handled things. But aside from that, the matter is settled."
He could easily read what was on Trout's mind—and not just his. Many of those present were waiting for the same answer, and Natsuhiko saw no need to conceal it.
"As for Root," he continued evenly, "the Hokage's stance is clear. They had no official orders, they slandered an ANBU operative, and they attempted to forcibly take one of my subordinates. I handled with it accordingly. The only issue… was how I chose to send my message."
Handled accordingly… except for the provocation?
Trout's eyes widened beneath his mask. That was all? Seven Root operatives killed—and it was simply "handled"? The punishment stemmed only from the fact that Natsuhiko had sent their severed heads back as a challenge?
In that moment, Trout realized something he had not fully grasped before. His division commander was not merely powerful—he was protected.
"Sir… does that mean all of us are—" Trout hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "And… both Hokage agreed?"
"Of course. None of you will be implicated," Natsuhiko said with a firm nod. Then, placing a hand on Trout's shoulder, he added lightly, "Though I must say, Captain Trout, your line of thinking is a little dangerous."
"I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have questioned—"
"Enough." Natsuhiko cut him off, his tone neither harsh nor gentle, but absolute. "Do your job. Remember who you are. You're an ANBU squad leader—your duty is to follow my orders."
A thin sheen of cold sweat formed beneath Trout's mask. He bowed immediately, falling silent.
Natsuhiko did not press him further. After giving his shoulder a reassuring pat, he moved past the crowd toward where Kakashi and Pakura were waiting.
The rest of the ANBU, having heard his words, could not help but cheer quietly among themselves. Yet they did not forget their responsibilities; after that brief release of tension, they quickly dispersed and returned to their posts.
Only Kakashi and Pakura remained.
They had expected this.
"Kakashi," Natsuhiko said as he approached, a smile returning to his face. He gave the younger man a light punch on the shoulder. "You did well. If you hadn't held them off, and Pakura had been taken… I would have betrayed her trust."
"Captain, please don't say that," Kakashi replied, scratching the back of his head with a faint, self-conscious smile. "She's one of us now—a comrade. And if she's a comrade, then it's only natural we ensure her safety, isn't it?"
Those who abandon their comrades are worse than scum…
The words echoed silently in his heart, though he did not speak them aloud. They had already become the creed by which he lived—and the path he intended to follow.
"Exactly. She's one of us," Natsuhiko said with a nod, though his expression soon grew more serious. "By the way… you know about your sensei's wife, don't you?"
"Sensei's wife?" Kakashi's expression shifted at once. "I know a little—sensei mentioned it to me in private. Captain, you—"
"I've been assigned to the guard detail," Natsuhiko said, spreading his hands slightly, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Your sensei gave me the task himself. Looks like… you'll be joining me as well."
"I haven't received any notice about that," Kakashi said with a faint sigh, a trace of helplessness in his voice. "So I don't really know if I'll be going."
Most likely, you won't.
Natsuhiko kept the thought to himself. He remembered well that when the Nine-Tails appeared, Kakashi had been out on the streets of Konoha with Guy, wandering idly. And perhaps, in some ways, it was for the best. Obito would be there that night—would be the one to launch the attack—and if he were to encounter Kakashi… there was no telling what might happen.
After all, he was an Uchiha. And not just any Uchiha, but one prone to extremes, the kind whose emotions could spiral beyond reason. If he lost control, the consequences would be impossible to predict.
Besides, for a mission of this magnitude, Minato likely believed Kakashi's strength was not yet sufficient. In truth, Kakashi had never taken part in this operation.
"Alright, we'll leave it at that for now." Natsuhiko glanced at Pakura, who stood nearby with her head lowered, pretending not to listen, and gave a casual wave of his hand. "Go spend some time coordinating with your team. I have someone to see—the one I brought back earlier."
"Yes, Captain." Kakashi nodded without hesitation and turned to leave.
"As for you," Natsuhiko said, shifting his gaze to Pakura, "walk with me. We should discuss your arrangements."
"Yes, Commander." She lifted her head and nodded earnestly.
She followed behind him in silence, step by measured step, as they made their way toward the holding cells.
Her expression was complicated. She still did not fully understand who those people had been—the ones who had tried to take her away. They had dressed like the ANBU, carried themselves like the ANBU, yet clearly did not belong to them. That alone was enough to unsettle her.
If anything, it suggested they were something far more dangerous.
And yet, for her sake, Natsuhiko had killed them all without hesitation.
The thought left her both stunned and deeply moved. If his goal had merely been to win her loyalty, there had been no need to go so far—because such an act would inevitably bring him unseen troubles, consequences that could not yet be measured.
"…Thank you, Commander," she said at last, her voice soft but sincere.
"Hm?" Natsuhiko paused briefly before understanding, and a gentle smile appeared on his face. "There's no need. It was simply what I had to do. You don't need to dwell on it."
"Will this cause you trouble?" she pressed, unwilling to let the matter rest.
"You really are…" Natsuhiko shook his head with a faint, amused exhale, deciding not to pursue the subject further. Instead, he shifted the conversation smoothly. "I told you it's fine, so don't overthink it. Now—about your arrangements. I'll see to your living quarters; if nothing unexpected happens, you'll likely be placed somewhere near my home.
"As for your status, given your background, I'll act as your guarantor. However, you'll still be under a probationary period. That starts now. There will be ANBU assigned to monitor you, so don't be surprised if you notice them."
He paused briefly before continuing, his tone even.
"I'll make sure they don't go too far. The ones watching you won't be from the Third Division, but as a division commander, I can still keep things within reason. As for your squad… I haven't decided yet. For now, you'll begin with training. Once that's complete, we'll assign you properly."
He laid everything out in one breath, deliberately thorough. Pakura understood that he was steering the conversation away from her earlier question, yet she did not press him further. Instead, she nodded quietly.
Where she lived did not matter much to her, though the idea of being placed near his residence gave her an unexpected sense of reassurance.
As for being monitored, that was only natural. She had once been a shinobi of Sunagakure; to trust her completely without oversight would have been far stranger.
What mattered was that he had told her openly.
For someone in her position, honesty and trust were not luxuries—they were necessities.
And as for the squad assignment, she didn't mind at all. Starting from the basics and undergoing training anew… in truth, it felt appropriate.
After all, the ANBU were not the same as ordinary shinobi.
She knew she would need to relearn these new skills thoroughly if she hoped to fully integrate into the ANBU, to function seamlessly within the organization's shadowed hierarchy.
"I understand, Commander," Pakura said, tilting her head slightly as she looked at Natsuhiko behind his mask, curiosity flickering in her gaze. "So, if I run into you on the street…"
"Just call me Natsuhiko," he replied matter-of-factly. "Or, if it's easier, you can pretend you don't know me. Also, change your hair color, but the name doesn't matter—sharing it with someone else isn't a big deal. At worst, people will just think you're an orphan we brought back from the Land of Wind."
"Yes, Commander," Pakura responded, a small smile tugging at her lips. She had no intention of changing her name. Even without a family name, it had been hers for so many years that she was unwilling to give it up.
As for her appearance, it mattered little. When on missions, she would wear a mask, and for everyday life, with Konoha's vastness and the support she now had, there was no reason to worry.
A new life, a new future—everything was a fresh beginning.
Though part of her still felt the ache of leaving Sunagakure behind, the bitter sting of betrayal and mistrust still lingered in her heart. But here, in Konoha, she had found trust and protection. Even if she wondered whether some of it might be for show, someone who had endured pain learned to cherish genuine care, and Pakura held this new life in the highest regard.
"Alright, go train," Natsuhiko said, turning to the cell doors with a small smile. "After your shift, I'll take you to meet someone and make sure your living arrangements are set. That's all for now."
"Yes, Commander," she responded immediately, bowing slightly before turning decisively and leaving.
Watching her go, Natsuhiko gave a subtle signal to the ANBU guarding the cell, and they nodded before departing. Once the hallway outside was clear, he stepped inside, moving steadily until he reached the cell of Tsutani Hiro.
He stopped and observed the man before him. His arm had been sewn back together and could move freely. Natsuhiko nodded slightly to himself. It seemed that, despite the cult's meddling, some tangible progress had been made. Yet, he noticed that Hiro's vitality appeared weaker than the last time he had seen him.
"Could it be that this so-called immortality is nothing but a scam?" he thought quietly.
Regardless of whether it was a deception, it mattered little to him. If it was a sham, Natsuhiko had no intention of using it himself. If it was real, the drain on Hiro's life force simply meant his training had not yet reached completion.
In any case, despite the grotesque, stitched-up wounds still marring his body, he could now function freely. Natsuhiko felt a brief pang of relief—if Danzo had been paying attention to this man instead of Pakura, he might have risked using even this incomplete "immortality" for his own gain.
"Mr. Tsutani, how have you been these past few days?" Natsuhiko asked calmly, a faint smile gracing his features.
Hiro, clearly aware of his visitor, let out a low snort before replying in a measured tone. "Does it matter how I've been? But you… you've actually come back here."
"It's hardly unusual," Natsuhiko said gently. "This division falls under my command, and whether you have freedom or not is ultimately my decision." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing. "Now… let's talk business. Are you interested in making a deal?"
"What kind of deal? Are you actually planning to let me go?" Tsutani Hiro's eyes were shadowed and wary, but his mistrust shone through every line of his face.
"I need you to perform a jutsu," Natsuhiko said, his voice now calm, almost cold. "If you succeed, you'll have the choice—either you leave, or your disciple does. This is one of the few chances you'll ever get to leave this place."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I will have someone restrain you and make you perform it anyway. The effect might be weaker, but the goal will still be achieved. Now the choice is yours: cooperate willingly, or be forced."
...
Meanwhile, in an underground office beneath the Hokage building, Hiruzen Sarutobi sat silently, his eyes fixed on Danzo before him.
Just moments ago, Danzo had met with both Hiruzen and Minato Namikaze in the office above, but the meeting had gone poorly. Danzo's stubbornness was absolute—he believed, without a shred of doubt, that he had done nothing wrong.
Pakura, the newcomer from Sunagakure, had once been the pride of the Sand Village, and she possessed a kekkei genkai. In Danzo's eyes, any ninja with such origins entering Konoha for whatever reason was a potential threat, someone unworthy of trust.
Even if she were trustworthy, he insisted she belonged not in the ANBU but under his Root, where he could oversee her and prevent any possible complications. For Danzo, making the "right" choice at all times, under any circumstances, was nonnegotiable.
Hiruzen and Minato could not help but feel their anger rising. Hiruzen's patience was tested, and even his temper began to flare at the audacity.
Do you not realize the state of Konoha? Hiruzen thought to himself.
But Danzo was his old friend, his shadow in the village; he could not allow a clash with Minato to escalate further. For now, he calmed both sides and separated them, knowing that only he could mediate Danzo's recklessness.
"You've overstepped—severely, Danzo," Hiruzen finally said, his voice calm but heavy with reproach.
"Overstepped?" Danzo's tone dripped with disdain as he glared at Sarutobi. "Just because I am not Hokage, my correct decision is overstepping?"
"You know in your heart whether this decision was truly for Konoha," Hiruzen replied with a long sigh. "Don't treat us like fools. Even if it were for the village, it is not the right time."
"Hmph. Always so sanctimonious," Danzo snorted. "There's nothing wrong with my decision."
"Enough! Remember who granted you your authority, Danzo, and never let yourself get carried away!" Hiruzen's face darkened, his voice sharp as he cut him off. He had never imagined that his old friend could act so self-interestedly, placing his own agenda above the welfare of Konoha itself.
Though Sarutobi had always steered the village steadily forward according to his own judgment, he had never wavered in placing Konoha's welfare above all else. This—this reckless selfishness—angered him deeply. Truly, it made his blood boil.