It had to be said—Minato Namikaze's title as "The Yellow Flash" and "The Little Sun" was well-earned. Standing near him, it felt as though his very body radiated the essence of Yang Release. His chakra gave off a sense of searing warmth, a stark contrast to the frigid, brooding energy of the Uchiha clan.
With Hiruko's current strength, defecting from Konoha wouldn't be a difficult feat. However, he was loath to leave the village's vast reservoir of resources. More importantly, he still had his sights set on Tsunade, not to mention the "future" beauties currently growing up in Konoha. How could he bear to depart?
Unlike the conservative Third Hokage, a Fourth Hokage like Minato might offer more room to breathe. Minato was young, vibrant, and brimming with energy; he would likely support the kind of radical reforms Hiruko had in mind.
Even though Hiruko had become one of the "vested interests" of the ninja world, he still harbored a trace of pity for the common folk who were squeezed dry by the Daimyo and the shinobi system.
Hiruko had arrived in this world at the age of five, after "swallowing" his local counterpart—a "mystery of the womb" awakening. Back then, he lived a simple life with his parents in a small farming village, with almost zero chance of ever learning ninjutsu. But the moment he realized his name was Hiruko, he knew his destiny lay as a shinobi, regardless of his lackluster talent.
However, one night shattered his perception of the ninja world, showing him a reality far removed from the relatively "cheerful" Naruto he remembered from his past life.
Hiruko could still vividly recall that night. A gale shrieked across the land, and heavy, leaden clouds hung low like a suffocating black shroud. Raindrops the size of beans pelted his face like freezing blades. He had huddled in the mud, body shaking uncontrollably, watching in helpless horror as a group of Cloud (Kumo) Ninja surrounded his parents.
His father's arm had been brutally severed; blood sprayed like a fountain, staining the earth crimson. His mother knelt in the muck, face drenched in tears, begging, "Stop! Please, stop!"
The two of them had thrown themselves forward, desperately trying to shield their son.
"NO!"
But Hiruko's scream was swallowed by a deafening crack of thunder.
The Kumo ninja curled his lip into a cold sneer. With a casual flick of a glinting kunai, his mother's throat was slit. Fresh blood bubbled out instantly. Seeing this, his father lunged at the enemy with a gutteral roar, only to be run through the chest by a long blade, collapsing heavily into the mud.
"No...!"
Hiruko's pupils dilated. It felt as if an invisible hand had reached into his chest and shredded his heart. The agony was so intense he could barely breathe. He wanted to charge forward, to fight, to kill—but his legs felt like they were filled with lead. To an ordinary person, the killing intent of a shinobi was a "dimension-shattering" suppression.
The Kumo ninja turned, his eyes cold as frost, locking onto the boy. A cruel smile touched his lips. "Kid... you're next."
Just as the cold steel of the kunai was about to plunge home—
Whoosh!
Several dark silhouettes descended like vengeful spirits!
"Leaf Hurricane!"
A green blur flashed past. With a tremendous gust of wind, a powerful kick sent the Kumo ninja and his kunai flying, crashing into the distance. Immediately after, a storm of shuriken hissed through the air, their sharp whistles forcing the other enemies back.
Enraged, the Kumo ninja charged like a pack of wolves, and the area erupted into a chaotic clash. Steel clashed against steel, sparks flying into the rain as various ninjutsu tore through the air. The Konoha ninja moved with the agility of swallows, their teamwork seamless. Within moments, they had forced the invaders into a full retreat.
"Fall back!" Realizing they were outmatched, the Cloud ninja vanished into the curtain of rain.
The rain continued to fall, as if the heavens themselves were weeping for the tragedy. Hiruko knelt beside the bodies of his parents, his tears mixing with the rainwater. He shook violently, his heart hollowed out by grief.
Most of the Konoha ninja had given chase, but one remained behind, standing silently in the rain. He didn't offer empty platitudes; he just stood there, keeping watch.
"Why... why...?" Hiruko's fists clenched so hard his nails drew blood from his palms. He felt no pain—only a burning, bottomless resentment.
He was too weak. So weak he couldn't protect a single thing!
"Come with us back to Konoha," the ninja said softly.
"Yes," Hiruko nodded heavily. He knew that as he was now, he could change nothing. Only by becoming strong would he have the power to rewrite such a fate.
So, this is how I ended up in Konoha, he thought, looking around at the ruins of his childhood with a vacant gaze.
After a hasty burial, he followed the ninja back to the village. It turned out his ancestors were "Red and Expert" Konoha citizens who had simply left to farm after failing to manifest ninja talent. No one expected an incursion so close to the village's borders.
Yet, it was this tragedy that gave him the chance to stay in Konoha. From that day on, he embarked on the grueling path of seeking power, training day and night, year after year.
It wasn't until he was eighteen and officially unlocked his Template System that his strength began to skyrocket like a booster rocket. Because of the limitations of his original body's talent, he had yet to officially break through to the Kage level, but with his current arsenal, even a Kage wouldn't be able to keep him from leaving if he truly wanted to.
Hiruko shook his head slightly, pulling his mind back from the depths of memory. The past was the past; no amount of brooding could change the established facts. Though he had only spent a few years with this life's parents, he remembered the warmth clearly—how they would secretly save the best food for him, and how he would "accidentally" drop a chicken leg on the floor so they could eat it without feeling guilty.
Back then, he had naively believed that being so close to Konoha meant safety. Reality had taught him otherwise: without power, all beauty is but a reflection of the moon in water—fleeting and fragile.
"Hiruko, what do you think?"
Sensing Hiruko's wandering mind, Hiruzen Sarutobi directed his gaze toward the "civilian genius."
Even though Hiruko hadn't hit the Kage level, his "bottlenecked" talent actually made Hiruzen feel more at ease. Compared to the increasingly inscrutable Orochimaru, Hiruko seemed more predictable.
However, Hiruzen was worried about whether Hiruko would support Minato. After the Third War, far too many ninja owed Hiruko favors for his medical and technological breakthroughs. He was a political powerhouse in his own right, and he was dangerously close to Orochimaru.