Chapter 311 – Dreams and Reality
"That concludes my mission report."
Back in Konoha, Uchiha Kei had been hoping — perhaps naïvely — that after everything, he could finally take a long, quiet rest.
After all, he'd crossed seas, toppled armies, and nearly leveled a village.
If anyone deserved a vacation, it was him.
But the moment he stepped into the Hokage's office, that hope died a swift death.
Minato Namikaze, as it turned out, had no intention of letting him relax — not yet.
And truth be told, Kei couldn't blame him.
After the chaos he had unleashed in Kirigakure, even he had to admit: the fallout was too big to ignore.
The Fourth Hokage needed to know exactly what had happened — every move, every risk, every secret deal — before he could decide how to handle the political storm to come.
So, Kei had spent the last hour calmly recounting everything:
from his cooperation with Orochimaru, to the Kaguya clan's betrayal, to his encounter and false confrontation with Obito Uchiha, and finally, to the catastrophic release of the Three-Tails.
Minato leaned back in his chair, report in hand, his expression complicated.
"…You really are something else, Kei."
His tone carried a mix of disbelief and reluctant admiration.
He'd known Kei was capable — they'd once fought side by side on the Kannabi Bridge mission, after all — but this…
This went beyond even Minato's expectations.
Kei hadn't just completed the mission; he'd redefined it.
Every move — planned or improvised — was executed with surgical precision.
He'd used Orochimaru to uncover the Hidden Mist's embedded ANBU structure, giving Konoha a clearer picture of the global intelligence network.
He'd investigated the Kaguya clan's growing ambitions, then exploited the Obito connection to quietly cripple their influence.
By framing the situation as a "Kaguya bloodline abduction incident," he'd hidden traces of his own involvement — and with Obito's help, erased the rest.
Then came the finale: the grand "battle" against the Mist.
A spectacle staged to both draw global attention and provide cover for Obito's continued infiltration.
The release of the Three-Tails hadn't been a coincidence; it was Kei's calculated strike.
A crippling wound to Kirigakure — one so devastating that even the proudest clans would think twice before whispering his name in accusation.
Step by step, it was all perfectly orchestrated.
And Minato could see clearly: the lynchpin of this entire operation had been Obito.
Kei had used him — his identity, his connections, even his infamy — to absolute perfection.
He didn't waste pawns.
He refined them into weapons.
And somehow, Obito hadn't cracked under the pressure.
The coordination between them, the mutual deception, the balance — it was terrifying.
Minato set the report down and sighed softly.
If he had been the one sent to Kirigakure instead… would he have managed anything close to this?
Probably not.
"This report will be handled with the highest confidentiality," Minato said finally.
"As for your compensation… let's count this as three consecutive S-rank missions."
Kei smiled faintly. "Generous as always, Hokage-sama."
Minato ignored the tone. "Now, about that Kaguya child — Kimimaro. What are your plans for him?"
Kei's eyes narrowed slightly. "By all logic, I should kill him. He's a liability — a living remnant of the Kaguya bloodline."
Minato frowned but didn't interrupt. He knew Kei wasn't wrong.
Keeping such a child alive carried enormous risk.
But still — the boy was barely three years old.
Even on a battlefield, Minato couldn't bring himself to harm a child that young.
No one was innocent in war, perhaps, but some lives didn't need to be taken.
Kei's tone softened. "…But I can't do it. Not to someone that small. I've killed enough for ten lifetimes, but I can't bring myself to cross that line."
Minato's expression eased slightly. "Then what do you propose?"
"Two options," Kei replied evenly.
"First — I could send him into ANBU. Raise him there, shape him into a weapon for the village."
He paused, then continued, "Or second — he stays with me. Under my supervision. I'll personally train him, recondition him, and reshape his loyalty to belong to Konoha."
Minato's lips curved into a faint smile. "That's… much better than what I expected."
He thought for a moment. Officially, the boy's fate rested in Kei's hands — he had brought him back, after all.
But politically, the situation was volatile. A Kaguya survivor could become a liability if discovered.
"Fine," Minato said at last. "You may keep him — but there are conditions."
Kei raised an eyebrow.
"If he ever awakens his Kekkei Genkai, he must be transferred to ANBU immediately. Until then, keep his heritage hidden. Modify his appearance if necessary — no one can suspect his origin."
"Of course," Kei said smoothly. "I can handle that myself. I'll use genjutsu to alter his features and, if needed, suppress his memories. He'll believe he's just another child of Konoha."
Minato nodded. "Good."
In truth, he trusted Kei to handle this — perhaps more than he trusted most of his council.
Still, as the discussion settled, Minato's smile faded.
Kei noticed.
"What's wrong, Captain?" he asked quietly. "You look… uneasy."
Minato chuckled softly. "Sorry. Your mission was perfect. I just started thinking about something else."
He looked out the window, the Hokage's Monument gleaming under the sunlight.
"Kei," he asked suddenly, "do you think this world can ever truly know peace?"
The question hung between them.
Kei blinked, then smiled faintly.
He understood now.
Minato hadn't changed. Deep down, the dream that drove him — the same ideal Jiraiya once carried — still burned within him.
The dream of a world without hatred.
But after what had happened in the Mist, after seeing Kei's ruthless efficiency… that dream must have felt further away than ever.
Kei sighed inwardly. So that's what this is about.
He had no such ideal.
He'd long stopped believing in "universal peace."
All he wanted was stability — for himself, for the village, for those he chose to protect.
Still, Minato was his ally, maybe even a friend.
He deserved an honest answer.
"Minato," Kei said quietly, "you shouldn't blame yourself for thinking that way. You're the Hokage — your duty is to protect Konoha first, not the entire world."
He folded his hands together. "Peace for everyone sounds beautiful. But peace always starts with order — and order begins at home."
Minato looked up at him, eyes searching. "Then tell me honestly, Kei. What do you think of my dream?"
The question was direct — sincere.
Kei hesitated for a moment, then smiled faintly.
"As your subordinate and partner, I'd say it's admirable," he said. "A world where everyone understands each other? Worth striving for — even if it takes generations."
Then his tone shifted — softer, but sharper.
"But as your friend… I have to be honest. You and Jiraiya-sensei dream too high, too far beyond human nature."
Minato frowned slightly, but there was no anger in his eyes — only curiosity.
Kei leaned back, his gaze calm and steady.
"Understanding requires fairness. And fairness requires balance — of power, of resources, of survival."
He lifted a hand. "Take the great nations, for example. The Land of Water lacks fertile land and relies on imports. The Land of Wind has sand and stone but no crops. The Land of Earth is rich in ore but isolated by mountains."
He paused.
"But the Land of Fire… sits in the center of it all. Fertile soil. Perfect climate. Abundant trade routes. No wonder Konoha thrives."
He met Minato's eyes.
"So long as that imbalance exists — so long as one nation prospers while another starves — peace will only ever be a dream."
For a moment, the office fell silent.
The light filtering through the Hokage's window painted both men in gold and shadow.
Minato said nothing.
Kei didn't press further.
Because both of them knew — in that silence — that what he said was true.
Peace was beautiful.
But reality was cruel.
And somewhere between the two… lay the line every Hokage would eventually have to walk.
The Land of Fire — the heart of the continent — was, by every definition, a land of plenty.
It was a natural crossroads, a hub where all trade routes converged. Goods flowed easily in and out, caravans passed daily, and the economy thrived like no other.
This constant movement of commerce and wealth brought immeasurable prosperity not just to the country itself, but especially to Konohagakure.
Because of its prime location and abundant resources, Konoha received far more missions than any other hidden village.
And missions meant money — the lifeblood of any shinobi nation.
Training ninja required vast sums. Equipment, education, stipends — nothing came cheap.
Without a steady flow of funds, even the strongest village would wither.
That wealth came from trade, from the endless circulation of caravans and merchants, and from the constant commissions of foreign clients.
Unlike the other nations, Konoha's environment allowed it to be almost entirely self-sufficient.
It didn't need to buy crops, timber, or metals from abroad.
In fact, the opposite was true — the other nations relied on Fire Country's exports to survive.
It was an unbalanced system, built on profit and dependence.
And in a world where power dictated respect, imbalance bred resentment.
No one wanted to treat an economic giant as an equal.
Why would they willingly trade with Konoha as peers — when every exchange only made Konoha richer and themselves poorer?
If you were the leader of another nation, would you tolerate that?
Of course not.
Hatred, after all, was only the mask of war.
The true engine behind every conflict… was profit.
That was why, in every great shinobi war, the village that suffered the most assaults was always Konoha.
Because Konoha was the golden prize.
The mountain everyone wanted to topple.
The symbol of everything the others lacked.
Minato listened in silence, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.
He'd always understood the nature of war — at least in theory.
But hearing Kei lay it out so clearly, so logically, made the truth feel… heavier.
The dream he carried — of peace, understanding, and unity — suddenly seemed so far away it almost hurt to look at.
He could see the trap now: if Konoha held all the advantages, peace would never be mutual.
And as Hokage, was he supposed to surrender those advantages?
Give away Konoha's prosperity for the sake of an abstract dream?
That wasn't benevolence — that was foolishness.
Yield once, and the world would see it as weakness.
Yield twice, and they'd see Konoha as prey.
Appeasement didn't buy peace — it only delayed the inevitable strike.
Minato sighed, a touch of weariness in his eyes.
"I see what you're saying, Kei," he murmured. "Then tell me… if you were in my position, what would you do?"
Kei glanced at him, then smiled faintly — the kind of smile that held both understanding and resignation.
"There are only two ways to fix a broken system," he said quietly. "And neither are ones you'd ever approve of."
Minato arched an eyebrow. "Go on."
Kei folded his arms.
"The first solution," he began, "is for the shinobi world to face a common enemy — one so terrifying, so overwhelming, that no single village could hope to fight it alone."
He met Minato's gaze steadily.
"Only fear strong enough to unite us all could force cooperation — at least temporarily."
Minato's expression darkened.
He didn't need Kei to elaborate.
A powerful, unknown enemy threatening every village?
That could only mean one thing.
Obito.
Or worse — whatever lay behind him.
Minato realized, with a sinking feeling, that Kei's theatrics in Kirigakure — the Three-Tails, the chaos — had all been part of that plan.
To paint a shadow so vast that the world would tremble together.
It was a solution born of cunning and cruelty… and it terrified him.
Even so, he asked softly, "And the second method?"
Kei's tone turned calm — too calm.
He looked Minato straight in the eye before speaking.
"The second way," he said, "is unification."
He stood slowly, hands in his pockets.
"If the world can't be forced to cooperate through fear," he said, "then it must be brought together through power. Unite the entire shinobi world under one banner. Establish a single, fair system for distributing resources — balance the flow of wealth and missions across every land. Only then could your and Jiraiya-sensei's dream become reality."
He smiled faintly, almost wistfully. "But that would require one ruler strong enough to make every other nation kneel. A true unifier."
Minato said nothing.
His face was calm, but his eyes flickered with a storm of emotions — disbelief, guilt, understanding, and something darker.
Kei could see it.
He knew Minato wasn't angry — only shaken.
Because deep down, he understood the truth: those two paths, as cruel as they sounded, were the only ones that had ever worked in human history.
Kei inclined his head slightly.
"Captain Minato… I know you probably hate hearing this," he said softly. "But reality doesn't bend for ideals. It's always the other way around."
He smiled faintly. "I only say this because we're friends. If you were anyone else, I wouldn't dare speak so honestly."
He turned toward the door.
"Dreams are important," he continued quietly, "but they must first learn to survive reality. That's why I've always hoped you'd keep your focus on Konoha — fix what's within reach before trying to save the world."
He paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
"Your dream is noble, Minato. Truly. And I'll be waiting for the day it comes true."
A faint smirk crossed his lips. "But me? I'll keep my feet on the ground while you reach for the sky."
As Kei left the office, the Hokage's room fell silent once more.
The wind stirred the curtains, carrying the faint scent of paper and ink.
Minato leaned back in his chair, his hand over his face.
"Dreams and reality…" he murmured, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "How far apart they really are."