It was already late morning in the Village Hidden in the Leaves, but the air was as taut as midnight. Tension lingered in the alleys like fog—nothing visible to the untrained eye, yet the older jonin and patrol guards felt it in the way the crows watched from ridgepoles, and the way villagers whispered to one another as they passed the Senju mansion, eyes sliding quickly away from its darkened gates.
Danzo Shimura—a name synonymous with secrecy—had vanished, his death known only to a handful of the village's inner council.
With Danzo, his clandestine Root organization dissolved in a single night, its survivors and records scattered like ashes. Most of the village carried on unaware, save for a vague rumour of elite shinobi being "reassigned" or "purged" from Konoha ranks.
Even the other elders—Homura Mitokado and Koharu Utatane—remained blissfully ignorant, disarmed by years of trusting Danzo as an immovable fact of life, the shadow beside Hiruzen's torch.
But a summons had come early. And in the solemn hush of the Hokage's meeting chamber, the full council assembled for a session unlike any in recent memory.
[Hokage's Office]
The council chamber in Konoha's Hokage Tower was heavy with early light and stale incense. Papers lay scattered across the cold polished table, some with trembling notes in the margins and others blank—useless now in the face of what had occurred. Hiruzen Sarutobi—the Third Hokage, his white cloak draped heavy on his shoulders—sat at the head of the table, his aged hands locked together in uneasy stillness.
Across from him sat the village's other elders: Homura Mitokado and Koharu Utatane, both leaning forward, the lines of their faces deepened by sleepless nights and the constant erosion of certainty. Where once they had advised, now they argued and demanded.
Homura's temper snapped first.
"We must find a way to rid ourselves of this Radahn the moment he leaves!"
His fist trembled, whether from old age or rage, it wasn't clear.
"He is not kin, not clan. He is a threat we cannot afford. If he comes after us, or refuses to go—we act."
Koharu chimed in sharply, her voice crisp with controlled panic:
"The longer he stays, the greater the risk. We should—must—muster our best. If there is any forbidden art, any weapon we can finish—"
"And How could Danzo die?!" - Homura
Homura echoed, voice caught between thunder and fear:
"How could you let this happen right in front of yourself?"
Hiruzen's lips faltered, his breath uneven. He answered quietly.
"I… I couldn't do anything."
Koharu's voice was a whisper, horrified and small.
"This…"
Hiruzen didn't said anything But only stared at the swirling steam rising from his untouched tea.
He spoke slowly, quietly—forced calm edged with something deadly serious.
"No. You… don't understand. You have not truly seen what he is."
Homura turned on Hiruzen, voice incredulous and scornful.
"What the hell are you saying, Hiruzen? Since when does the Will of Fire cower before a single outsider? You stood against the Sand and Cloud. And you sit here helpless?"
Hiruzen's hands tightened on each other until the knuckles whitened. When he finally met their eyes, his gaze was brittle and haunted.
"You weren't there. None of you were there the moment it happened."
He paused, the silence drawing them in.
"He has a way," Hiruzen's voice dropped, almost a whisper, "to cut every chakra thread in the air. He can strip the power from your jutsu—make it as if chakra never existed. We were nothing. Minato and I… on our knees, unable even to shape a basic clone. The ANBU… collapsed, choking, powerless. He could have ended the entire council—Konoha itself—with a thought."
The old man's words hung in the air, more heavy than any threat.
Homura swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Koharu looked away, unable to hold Hiruzen's gaze.
Hiruzen went on, voice shaking with memory:
"From what Minato said- Weapons cannot not reach him. Genjutsu, taijutsu—irrelevant."
He looked up at the ceiling, as if searching for an answer in the grain of the wood.
"If you try, he will know. If you plot, he will feel it. The only reason we are still here is because, for now, he chooses restraint."
A chill passed through the chamber.
For the first time, the elders seemed to truly absorb the scope of what had entered their village—something far beyond "invader" or "tool." Not a god, perhaps, but an apocalypse in human form, and one their entire legacy was helpless to contain.
Homura's anger faded, replaced by disbelief and a flicker of fear.
"What… what do you suggest, then? We do nothing? We watch as he walks away and pray he never returns?"
Hiruzen's voice was hollow but certain.
"Don't worry , he is leaving today."
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Far from the stone-cold debate of the Hokage's council, the oldest part of the Senju district lay quiet. The once-grand mansion, now emptied of guards, loomed quietly among the swaying bamboo. Most of the morning was undisturbed.
But then—
An urgent sound: the slap of hurried sandals against stone, gasping breaths breaking quiet.
A young girl in a faded blue tunic sprinted down the empty lane—tears burning her cheeks, hair flying wild behind her. Rin Nohara nearly tripped at the gate, clutching the old wood as she blinked up through streaming eyes.
"M-Mister!" Her voice was weak and breaking, but it shivered through the empty compound.
There were no guards now. No sentinel ANBU, no one to bar her way.
She hurried through the inner garden, gate swinging wide behind her.
Her lungs burned; her heart pounded.
Only when she reached the front step and found the great wooden door ajar did her sobbing stutter. She forced herself forward, stumbling into a house that already felt colder, lonelier, emptier.
Inside, the rooms were shadowed. For a moment, she thought she was too late. Then, just ahead, a sliding screen suddenly flicked open, and the world shifted.
She blinked, and before she could scream or run, she found herself seated on a tatami mat, knees tucked under an old Japanese table. Across from her sat Radahn—the giant not in his armor, but clothed in white; hair loose, face grave, his presence alone filling the room.
He studied her in patient silence. Rin's tears trembled on her lashes.
"Child, don't cry," Radahn said, his deep voice unexpectedly soft, each word heavy but kind.
Rin sniffed and wiped at her face.
"B-but… Mister, why are you leaving this soon? You promised—"
She trailed off, breath hiccupping.
"You promised you'd teach me. I… I don't have anyone else left. Minato-sensei and Kakashi are the only one left except for you—and---there's just…"
She couldn't finish, the grief a tangled knot.
Radahn's eyes were mournful, steady.
"It is a necessity for me to leave this place, for the greater good. This village is filled with malice and injustice—a sickness its leaders cannot or will not cure."
He paused.
"Though, I will not stop you, if you wish to decide your own path."
For a moment, on the floor of an old mansion, just the two of them, the world was silent.
Rin glanced away, clutching her sleeves. She was an orphan—no family left but the gentle warmth of distant friends, a half-home in a place that never truly kept her safe.
For a long, shivering breath, she warred between the fear of the unknown and the ache of abandonment.
Then, with trembling resolve, she nodded.
"I'll go with you. But—" she looked up, desperate but clear, "if I want to come back, you have to let me. You can't stop me, okay?"
Radahn smiled—
He nodded, the promise deeper than words.
Rin smiled through a fresh wave of tears.
Then, quite suddenly, Radahn's expression darkened. He looked past her, eyes sharp and ancient, toward the sliding door behind her.
An invisible pressure hit the intruder.
Rin turned, sensing movement—
—but a vague figure, shadow-shaped, darted away silently through the outer hallway. A faint trail of blood—coughing, spattering—led away toward the Hokage's office.
Radahn's eyes narrowed.
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The warmth of the morning sun had barely crested the rooftops of Konoha when shouts and hurried footsteps echoed up the polished halls of the Hokage Tower.
Outside the meeting chamber, a figure materialized—breathless, covered in dust, half-collapsed against the broad doors.
"Huff—huff—Hokage-sama, urgent news!"
Hiruzen whirled, eyes dark with fresh worry. The elders—Koharu's hand clutching the table, Homura's mouth agape—peered over their shoulders.
"What is it?" Hiruzen barked.
The messenger took a gulp of air and blurted:
"Radahn! He's leaving—and he's taking the Three-Tails jinchūriki with him!"
The words collided with the room like thunder. Koharu dropped her teacup, porcelain shattering against the wood. Homura stood half out of his chair, face twisted in unmistakable horror.
"HIRUZEN! WE ABSOLUTELY CANNOT LET HIM TAKE HER!" Koharu's voice cracked.
"She is a weapon—a deterrent! The village—"
"I know!" Hiruzen snapped, urgency stripping away every aged tremor. He spun, eyes narrowing with command.
"Homura—call the clan leaders! Quickly Call Minato and Kakashi as well!"
The elders, bickering moments before, rushed to comply.
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