The sky above Konoha was still heavy with smoke. Though the fires of Orochimaru's invasion had been extinguished, the village itself bore deep wounds. Half-collapsed buildings groaned as carpenters and shinobi reinforced their frames. Craters from jutsu scarred the streets. Entire districts smelled of charred wood and blood.
Yet even amidst the devastation, life persisted. Teams of shinobi, chunin and genin alike, hauled debris and worked with the civilian workers to restore the village's heart. Konoha had endured—scarred, but not broken.
Far above the noise of construction, in the Hokage's council chamber, a grim meeting was underway. The silence inside the room weighed heavier than the ruins outside.
Homura Mitokado adjusted his robes as he leaned forward, his sharp eyes falling on the white-haired Sannin seated across the table.
"Jiraiya… the village cannot afford hesitation. We have lost the Third. A new Hokage must be named immediately to keep stability."
Koharu Utatane nodded, her wrinkled features stern.
"The people are restless. The shinobi need direction. There is no one else suitable. As the student of the Third Hokage, you are the only logical choice."
Jiraiya sat slouched in his chair, his hands folded, eyes drifting to the ceiling. Despite his outward laziness, the tension in the room did not escape him. He could feel the weight of the elders' gazes pressing down, trying to trap him into their plan.
Danzo Shimura, seated in the shadows, finally spoke. His voice was calm, but cold as a blade.
"The village needs strength, not sentimentality. Sarutobi's mistakes have already cost us dearly. We cannot risk another weak Hokage. Jiraiya, as a Sannin, you hold the necessary power. Accept the mantle, and Konoha will endure."but in his thoughts were different He wanted to become hokage ,after when he thought he would become the hokage after hiruzen's death ,his two companion in his youth didn't support him ,so he could only suppress his desire for now .While he makes new moves in the shadow to suppress the authority of new hokage
The word weak struck a nerve, but Jiraiya didn't rise to the bait. He sighed, leaning forward, his expression turning serious.
"I'm not Hokage material. You want someone to sit in an office, sign papers, and lead the village with wisdom and balance. That's not me. I travel, I gather intel, I wander. My heart isn't built for that chair."
The elders bristled, but before they could argue, Jiraiya continued, his voice firm.
"But… there is one person who can. Someone who has the bloodline, the power, and the will to carry on the legacy. Tsunade. She's the only one who can take the hat and protect Konoha in these times."
At the name, Koharu's lips tightened. "Tsunade… her recklessness, her gambling, her long absence from the village—do you truly think she is fit?"
Jiraiya gave a faint smile. "I've known her longer than anyone. Beneath her flaws, she's strong. Stronger than even she realizes. And she owes this village more than she admits." His eyes darkened for a moment. "I'll bring her back. That's my promise."
Danzo's single eye narrowed. He hated the idea—Tsunade, a woman broken by loss and distance, being chosen over him. But he said nothing, only steepled his hands in silent calculation.
Homura and Koharu exchanged glances, finally nodding.
"Very well. If you are determined, Jiraiya, then go. Bring back Tsunade. Until then, we will maintain order."
Jiraiya rose to his feet, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the chamber. His usual grin was absent; in its place was determination.
"I'll leave immediately. Sarutobi-sensei entrusted me with this village's future. I won't fail him."
He turned and left, his sandals echoing against the polished wood, the burden of responsibility heavy on his shoulders.
---
Meanwhile, in the heart of Konoha, Kirito's shadow clone stood among a group of chunin shinobi tasked with clearing debris from the marketplace. His cloak was absent; he wore standard shinobi gear, blending seamlessly into the teams.
"Alright, stack those beams against the wall! Careful with the supports!" shouted a chunin leader.
Kirito's clone nodded, lifting heavy rubble with chakra-enhanced strength. Each motion was precise, efficient, and unremarkable. To the others, he was simply another comrade helping in the aftermath of tragedy.
But beneath the mask of normalcy, his eyes darted constantly, scanning the ruins, memorizing patrol routes, listening to conversations. Every sigh, every whisper, every mention of Hokage succession—he recorded it all.
A genin nearby, face smudged with dirt, muttered, "Do you think we'll ever be safe again? With Hokage-sama gone…"
His team leader reassured him, but Kirito's clone absorbed the words. The uncertainty, the despair—it was a weakness, one the village itself had created by depending so heavily on one man.
The clone smirked faintly when no one was watching. Legends fall. Villages break. But from ashes comes opportunity.
Far beneath, in the solitude of the underground lab, the real Kirito slammed his hand against the table, shattering a glass vial. Crimson liquid splattered across the stone floor, sizzling as it evaporated against the sealing marks.
Another failure. Another corpse that had dissolved into uselessness after rejecting the DNA fusion.
His notes lay scattered, pages upon pages of diagrams and chakra calculations, all pointing toward dead ends. Hyūga and Uchiha blood clashed like oil and fire. Senju vitality extended the process but could not unify them. Even with his genius, the puzzle refused to yield.
Kirito's breath was ragged, his patience worn thin. He had invested so much into these experiments, only to be mocked by the limits of flesh.
He turned, staring at the jars lining the shelves: Hyūga, Uchiha, Senju, Uzumaki, even rare fragments from captured shinobi of other villages. All this power, yet it refused to bend to his will.
Clenching his fists, Kirito whispered, "There must be another way… a technique not bound by nature, not bound by the limits of blood."
His mind drifted to forbidden records he had glimpsed during his quiet infiltration of Konoha's archives. Whispers of a shinobi who had once sought to consume and evolve beyond human limits. A name half-buried in legend, but enough to ignite curiosity.
Hiruko.
The man who attempted to perfect the Chimera Technique, to fuse multiple kekkei genkai into one. Labeled a traitor, hunted, but brilliant. His research was scattered, his techniques hidden in forbidden places… and one such place was rumored: Mount Shumisen.
Kirito's lips curved into a dark smile.
"If flesh resists me… then I'll take Hiruko's path. Chimera. Dark Release. True synergy, not forced fusion. His legacy will be mine."
He gathered his scrolls, sealing away notes and samples into compact storage. The lab that had once been his sanctuary now felt suffocating. He was done with failures here.
For the first time, Kirito looked beyond the walls of Konoha.
"This village has served its purpose. To cling here is to stagnate. Evolution requires exile, freedom, and forbidden power."
Above, his clone lifted beams and reassured chunin teammates. Below, the real Kirito walked toward the exit of his lab, the decision final.
He would leave Konoha. He would climb Mount Shumisen. He would claim the Chimera Technique and remake the shinobi world in his image.
The Will of Fire may guide fools above. But in the shadows, the Will of Evolution prepared to take its next step.
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