Sickness hits like a landslide, and leaves like a thread being pulled.
Sarutobi Hiruzen felt he was probably getting old. It was just a bit of chill—something he could tough out—but he still kept a thermos in his hands to warm them, filled with ginger tea.
He dismissed the Telescope Technique and leaned back in his chair, staring into space. With no chakra flowing into the crystal ball on the corner of his desk, the clear, sharp eyes that had belonged to Roy vanished completely.
"Done spying?" The boy's words still rang in his ears.
Not even close. That was Hiruzen's answer. Young people didn't understand an old man's mindset. As the Kage of a village, responsible for countless ninja—what could be more gratifying than seeing the next generation bursting with talent?
Unfortunately… this one was a thorn.
A Uchiha thorn.
The old man shook his head, opened a drawer, and pulled out that scroll.
Roy's name was branded on it, along with everything the village had gathered about him. Hiruzen unrolled it, pulled it to the end, and added another line with his brush:
[The next "White Fang"… Lightning Release is no weaker…]
At the end, he flung the brush down in irritation, thinking of his own disappointing son. Compared to Fugaku, Hiruzen couldn't help the bitter frustration that rose in his chest.
Knock… knock… knock…
A knock on the door snapped him out of it.
Without changing his expression, Hiruzen slid the scroll back into the drawer and said evenly, "Enter."
Creaaak— The Hokage Office door opened, and two figures filed in—one blond, one black-haired; one bright and open, the other stern and rigid. Both wore green jōnin flak jackets. They bowed.
"Hokage-sama."
"You're here… Minato… Fugaku…" Hiruzen put on a smile and waved them to sit.
Across the desk, he slid over an intelligence report.
The Third Shinobi War was raging harder by the day. The front was tightening, and requests for reinforcements were piling up.
Hiruzen lit his pipe. Puff— He took a drag and said, "Jiraiya sent word. Kumo and Iwa have mobilized large forces. The day before yesterday, I already sent Orochimaru north to deal with Iwa."
He lifted his gaze.
"As for Kumo…"
His eyes settled on Namikaze Minato.
"Minato. That front is yours."
Minato's blond hair stirred faintly. He read the report carefully, paying special attention to two names, then smiled. "Leave it to me."
A and Killer B—so that was the AB pair tearing through the battlefield. Against Kumo, speed was everything… and speed was exactly what he had.
Minato slipped the report into his pocket. This deployment meant yet another exhausting explanation to Kushina—but with Mikoto around her, chatting and shopping with her, he supposed there wasn't too much to worry about.
Still…
Fugaku looked… unhappy.
Minato noticed, but didn't say anything.
And he was right.
Uchiha Fugaku was very unhappy—borderline furious—because he'd seen his son's name on the Uchiha support roster.
Uchiha Ren.
Not only that—Fugaku's own name wasn't on the list.
What was this supposed to mean?
He forced down his anger and frowned at Hiruzen. "Hokage-sama. Ren is still a child. He hasn't graduated."
A child? Someone who could trade blows with Sakumo? Should that still be called "small"?
Hiruzen took another slow puff, remembering that swordplay and that lightning. He pushed his chair back and rose, his gaze heavy on Fugaku.
"Fugaku."
"I know what you're thinking."
"And I can't explain everything to you right now."
"But you only need to know this—"
"As long as I sit in this seat, no one will harm Ren. Whether he's Uchiha or not."
Fugaku: "…"
He didn't budge.
Hiruzen exhaled a ring of smoke. "Have him go with Minato. With Minato there, you should be able to rest easy."
"I can take him myself," Fugaku said flatly.
"The Military Police can't function without you."
Fugaku: "…"
"Enough," Hiruzen said, voice turning firm. "This is an order, not a discussion."
"Have Ren report to Minato tomorrow. Once they've coordinated, head north immediately."
"…Understood."
Creaaak— The Hokage Office door shut hard—like Fugaku's mood, sealing itself off.
Minato lingered at his side, offering gentle reassurance. "Fugaku-san, don't worry. With me there, I'll protect Ren. I swear it."
Fugaku stopped and looked at the blond man. "Minato… you've never had a son. You don't understand."
"When you have a child, you'll never truly be at ease. Not ever."
Step… step… Fugaku walked on, shaking his head, and left Minato standing there—silent, watching the "father's back" recede, a bleak silhouette that left him with no words.
Until he suddenly remembered Kushina craving ramen.
Minato slapped his forehead and bolted for Ichiraku, wind at his heels.
…
Time always slips away in the middle of busy days.
On a muddy little road through the Southern Forest leading back toward the Uchiha district—
Shisui and Itachi had been "punished" and "assigned extra training." Both of them were limp as dead dogs. Roy carried one in each hand, dangling them by the scruffs as he headed home.
Night was falling. The sun sank low.
Konoha's shopping district glowed with neon as the lights came on.
To the far right, carved into the cliff face, the Hokage Rock held the faces of the First, Second, and Third.
Roy threaded through the streets with the two kids. Maybe it was the crowd, maybe it was embarrassment—being carried like chicks in public—Shisui struggled down, gritting through the pain, and limped along beside Roy.
He inched toward Ichiraku like a wounded slug.
"Nii-san, should I get down too?" Itachi lay across Roy's back. Seeing Shisui walking, he shifted and tried to wriggle free—
Roy smacked him once and hoisted him back into place. "He's built like a mule. He can take it. Don't compete with him."
Shisui: "…"
He grabbed Roy's hand and puffed his cheeks in a sulk. Like he hadn't trained hard too… This was favoritism.
Itachi gave a small "Mm," buried his face in Roy's warm back, and after a while murmured, "Nii-san… can I be as strong as you someday?"
Shisui looked up too.
The afterimage of that swordlight and lightning still hadn't faded from their eyes.
Roy flicked Shisui's forehead. "Watch the road."
"Oh!" A huge puddle was right in front of him. Shisui barely dodged it, then looked back at Roy again.
Roy smiled. "Is that what you call 'strong'?"
"Not strong?" Shisui grumbled. "That was White Fang uncle!"
"And?" Roy asked.
"So…" Shisui faltered—only to get grabbed and roughly ruffled in Roy's big hand.
By the time he blinked, Roy was already ahead, carrying Itachi, walking steadily toward Ichiraku.
"Wait up, Nii-san!"
"You still didn't answer Itachi's question!"
His stomach growled loud enough to drown out everything else. "Strong," "White Fang"—gone. All he could think about was food.
Shisui yelped and hurried after them, threw open the curtain, and plopped down beside Roy—then froze.
There was Obito.
And Obito's face was… swollen. Again.
"Obito-nii."
"Heh heh… Shisui," Obito said, sounding cheerful as ever.
He slapped a thick wad of bills onto the counter and told the owner he was paying for everyone in the shop today.
Roy sat beside him. Even without using En, he could practically hear Obito's thoughts.
"Did you win?" Roy asked.
"No." Obito scratched the back of his head and grinned sheepishly at Roy. "But I beat him up good!"
Finally—some dignity back.
Roy's thoughts flickered to the scene: Obito, Sharingan blazing, reading Kakashi's Substitute Technique, landing a clean punch square on that handsome face—turning Kakashi into a pig-headed mess too.
Roy nodded in approval and said to Itachi, "Since Obito-nii said so, eat more. Don't hold back."
Obito: "…"
His smile died on the spot. Carefully he said, "Uh… you don't have to eat that much. Just… eat until you're full."
Shisui: "…"
Itachi: "…"
All three stared at him.
Obito flushed, squeezed his eyes shut, and yelled, "Eat whatever you want! As much as you want!"
"Ossu!"
Ichiraku filled with the nonstop sound of slurping.
…
Later, after the moon rose and the last daylight sank into darkness—
Obito clutched his now-emptied wallet with a miserable face, watching Roy walk off with Shisui and Itachi. The high from finally punching Kakashi faded completely.
"Obito-nii… are you poor?" Itachi asked innocently on the way home.
"Probably," Shisui said with total confidence.
Roy held each boy's hand and thought: Obito had only just made chūnin, thanks largely to wartime shortages. He hadn't had many chances to take high-paying missions. Being broke was normal.
So Roy said seriously, "Remember this: being poor is fine. Just don't act like a big-shot wolf when you're not."
Obito, who hadn't walked far yet, heard it perfectly. His face went pitch-black.
Roy laughed and didn't care. He dropped Shisui off, then went home.
The lights were already on.
In the familiar living room, Fugaku had returned from duty and finished dinner. He sat cross-legged, waiting for Roy.
"Third Hokage personally named you for the battlefield," Fugaku said.
"Oh," Roy replied.
"I suspect he has ulterior motives."
"Oh," Roy replied again.
Fugaku's eyebrow twitched. "You have no thoughts? If you tell me you don't want to go, I'll fight to keep you off that front."
"How will you fight?" Roy said flatly. "By disobeying the Hokage's order?"
Roy remembered those brief clashes of gaze through the crystal ball. He looked calm as ice.
"The situation is bigger than us. If he wants me there, I'll go. And…"
Roy picked up his tea, formed a wisp of "nen" into water, another into wind, fused them into Ice Release, and cooled the scalding tea in an instant—then tilted his head back and drank it all in one go.
He stood, leaving Fugaku alone, and headed for the bath.
"And I'll make sure you understand," he added silently in his heart, "that if he doesn't send me, I'd still go."
Because—
He couldn't hold it back anymore.
He wanted to kill.
Only the battlefield let him harvest life energy. Only the battlefield—
That was Roy's secret. And it was the one thing an old fox like Hiruzen Sarutobi—who thought he held everything in his palm—would never imagine.
Crack. The chilled cup met the warm tabletop and shattered.
Fugaku stared at the "ice," then looked toward the bathing room and let out a long, weary sigh.
So be it. If his son wanted to go… then he would go.
Fatigue rolled in.
Then a fragrant breeze followed.
Mikoto slipped in, sat in Fugaku's lap like she owned the place, looped her pale arms around his neck, and gave him a look that could melt stone.
"While the kids are bathing… we could…"
Fugaku: "…"
He tried a strained smile. "How about… next time?"
He got tackled to the floor.
"Hey—mmph…!"
…
Late at night, when the moon hung high and it was finally time to sleep—
Roy, cleaned and exhausted, went to his room. He tucked Itachi in gently.
Ever since he was little, Itachi clung to him. Aside from the first couple years of nursing with Mikoto, most of the time the child could be found curled up in Roy's arms.
Soft snoring rose.
Itachi rolled over and flung a leg across Roy like an octopus, clinging tight. Under the moonlight, only then did his "too-mature" little face look properly young.
"Nii-san…" Itachi murmured in his sleep, drooling a thin shining line.
Roy let him hold on.
He turned his head to the window. The moon looked like the same moon from the Hunter world—no obvious difference—
But Roy knew better.
This moon wasn't that moon. The Naruto world's moon had real "aliens," real secrets. At the very least—
The Ōtsutsuki line of Hamura, the Gedo Statue… all of it was up there.
"Byakugan… Tenseigan… Kaguya… Chibaku Tensei…"
Words surfaced, then dissolved into the night, drifting like smoke until sleep finally dragged him under.
The familiar sensation of falling returned—
And when he came back to himself, he had already left the Naruto world behind.
He stood once more on the shore of his cognition sea.
~~~
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