A week had passed since the funeral, seven days that felt simultaneously eternal and impossibly brief. Seven days of Naruto existing in a fog of grief and guilt so profound that eating felt like betrayal, sleeping felt impossible, and training felt pointless when the person he'd been trying to make proud was gone forever.
The village's mood had shifted in that week, transforming from collective mourning into something uglier and more divisive. The initial shock had worn off, replaced by fear and anger that needed targets, needed explanations simpler than complex geopolitical reality. And increasingly, those targets converged on a single point: the boy who carried the Nine-Tails, whose existence had required the Third Hokage's ultimate sacrifice.
The whispers Naruto had heard at the funeral had grown into open conversations. Market vendors discussed it between customers. Shinobi debated it during training sessions. Even children—his own classmates' younger siblings—had been taught to avoid the "demon boy" whose very presence invited tragedy.
The village elders had made their positions clear during a council meeting two days after the funeral, their words filtering through the village with the weight of official policy even if they hadn't quite crossed into formal decree.
Danzo Shimura, the hawk among doves, had been particularly vocal. "The pattern is undeniable," he'd said during the open portion of the meeting, his voice carrying to the assembled clan heads and senior shinobi. "The Fourth Hokage died sealing the Nine-Tails into this child. Now the Third Hokage has died resealing corruption within the same container. Two of our greatest leaders, sacrificed to maintain a weapon we cannot control and that our enemies can apparently manipulate at will. We must question whether continuing this arrangement serves the village's interests."
Koharu and Homura, the other two elders who'd advised Hokages since the Second's time, had been more circumspect but no less damning in their implications. "The boy cannot be blamed for circumstances of his birth," Koharu had said carefully. "But we must consider whether keeping him in the village—particularly in such close proximity to leadership—creates unacceptable vulnerabilities. Perhaps alternative arrangements could be explored. For his safety and ours."
The message had been clear enough: Naruto was a problem requiring solution, a burden that had cost too much and might cost more if allowed to remain.
Naruto had heard about the meeting secondhand, through Asuma who'd attended and returned looking like he wanted to punch something. His uncle hadn't shared specific details, had just said "politics and fear make people stupid" before changing the subject. But the conclusion was obvious regardless of specifics.
The village blamed him. The leadership blamed him. And increasingly, Naruto was beginning to believe they were right to do so.
The Monument
Which is how he found himself back atop the Hokage Monument a week after the funeral, sitting on his grandfather's carved face and staring at nothing, trying to figure out how to exist in a world that would have been better if he'd never been born into it.
The self-blame had become a constant weight, heavier than the grief, more suffocating than the loneliness. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his grandfather's blood pooling on the study floor. Every time he tried to eat, he remembered that his appetite existed because someone had died so he could keep living. Every time he used chakra, he felt the Nine-Tails stirring beneath the reinforced seal, a reminder of exactly what he was and what that had cost.
I should have died instead, he thought for the thousandth time that week. The seal should have killed me when that corruption was placed. Then Grandpa wouldn't have needed to sacrifice himself. Then the village would have lost just the weapon instead of the Hokage. That would have been better. That would have been—
"Hey there, kiddo! Mind if I join you, or is this one of those brooding teenager moments where company isn't welcome?"
The voice that interrupted his spiral was cheerful, completely at odds with the somber mood that had blanketed the village for a week. Naruto turned to find a man he'd never seen before standing a few feet away—tall, white-haired, wearing clothes that somehow managed to look both practical and ridiculous simultaneously. Red markings ran down his face from his eyes, and his headband bore the kanji for "oil" rather than the Hidden Leaf symbol.
The man's smile was wide and genuine, his posture relaxed despite standing on a narrow stone surface hundreds of feet above the village. He radiated a casual confidence that suggested he could be standing anywhere—a battlefield, a bar, a memorial—and maintain exactly the same easy demeanor.
"Who are you?" Naruto asked, his voice flat with exhaustion and irritation at being disturbed. "And how did you get up here without me noticing?"
"Just a traveling sage passing through," the man said with a theatrical bow that was clearly meant to be amusing. "Name's Jiraiya, though I'm also known as the Toad Sage, the Gallant Jiraiya, and—most importantly—one of the Legendary Sannin! Perhaps you've heard of me?"
"No." Naruto turned back to staring at the village below, hoping the stranger would take the hint and leave. "Never heard of you. Go away, old man. I'm busy."
"Old man?!" Jiraiya's voice rose in mock offense. "I'm in my prime! Fifty-one is the new thirty-five in shinobi years! And besides, I've aged magnificently if I do say so myself. Distinguished, even!"
"You look old to me. Now go away. I'm not in the mood for whatever you're selling."
"Not selling anything, kiddo. Just paying respects to an old friend." Jiraiya moved closer despite Naruto's obvious desire for solitude, settling himself on the stone with the ease of someone who'd climbed this monument many times before. "Hiruzen Sarutobi was my teacher, you know. Taught me everything important I know about being a shinobi. Hearing about his death... well, that's why I'm here."
Something in Naruto's chest tightened at hearing his grandfather's name spoken so casually. "Then go pay respects at his memorial stone like everyone else. Leave me alone."
"Already did. Now I'm paying respects here, where one of his favorite spots was. He used to sit right here when he was younger, did you know that? Before he was Hokage, when he was just a jōnin with too many responsibilities and not enough time to process them all. He'd come up here to think, to find perspective. Looks like you're doing the same."
"I'm not thinking. I'm trying not to think. There's a difference."
"Ah, the 'if I stop thinking then the bad thoughts can't catch me' strategy. Classic. Doesn't work, by the way. Tried it myself many times. The thoughts always catch up eventually. Persistent little bastards, thoughts."
Despite himself, despite the grief and guilt and desperate desire to be left alone, Naruto felt the corner of his mouth twitch with something that wasn't quite a smile but wasn't complete despair either. "You talk a lot for someone who's supposed to be wise and sage-like."
"Who said sages have to be quiet? That's a terrible stereotype. Some of us are naturally verbose and charming!" Jiraiya grinned, then his expression softened slightly. "You're Naruto Sarutobi, aren't you? Hiruzen's grandson. I heard about what happened. About the attack, the seal, everything. That's rough, kid. Probably the understatement of the century, but still. I'm sorry you had to go through that."
The sympathy—genuine and unvarnished, without the careful political distance most adults had been showing—made something in Naruto's carefully maintained numbness crack slightly. "Yeah, well. Sorry doesn't change anything. He's still dead. I'm still the reason. And the village still thinks I'm a cursed weapon that's cost them two Hokages. So your sorry, while probably sincere, doesn't actually help."
"Fair point. Sorry is a pretty useless word most of the time. Action matters more than apology." Jiraiya was quiet for a moment, then added, "For what it's worth, I don't think you're a cursed weapon. I think you're a kid who got dealt a terrible hand and is doing his best with impossible circumstances. That's not the same thing."
"Everyone else disagrees with you."
"Everyone else is scared and looking for simple answers. Fear makes people stupid. Makes them blame the nearest target rather than the actual enemy. Doesn't make them right, just makes them loud."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the wind carrying distant sounds of the village continuing its daily routines far below. Finally, Jiraiya stood, stretching with theatrical groaning.
"Well, I've got some business to attend to. Council meetings, arguments with stubborn old men who think they know better than they do, the usual tedious political nonsense. But hey, kiddo—stick around, would you? Don't do anything dramatic like deciding the village would be better off without you. That's always a bad idea, trust me. Been there, contemplated that, realized it was stupid."
"Why do you care what I do?"
"Because Hiruzen cared about you. And because I have a feeling we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other soon, whether certain people like it or not." Jiraiya's grin was slightly manic, suggesting he was looking forward to whatever conflict he was anticipating. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some elders to infuriate. It's going to be therapeutic."
The Hokage's Office
The temporary council chamber—established in the Hokage's office since formal council chambers were being prepared for whatever transition was coming—was exactly as tense as Jiraiya had expected when he arrived thirty minutes after leaving Naruto.
Danzo Shimura sat behind what had been Hiruzen's desk, a presumption that made Jiraiya's blood pressure rise immediately. Koharu and Homura occupied chairs to either side, the three elders forming a tribunal that had apparently decided they represented continuity of leadership in the Hokage's absence.
"Jiraiya," Danzo acknowledged with a nod that managed to be both respectful and dismissive simultaneously. "We heard you'd returned to the village. Please accept our condolences on Hiruzen's death. We know you were close."
"Save it, Danzo. I'm not here for condolences or political theater." Jiraiya remained standing despite the offered chair, his posture deliberately casual in ways that suggested he didn't recognize any authority these three thought they possessed. "I'm here to discuss custody of Naruto Sarutobi."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Koharu and Homura exchanged glances that spoke of conversations already had, positions already established. Danzo's expression didn't change, but his visible eye sharpened with focus.
"The boy is a village asset," Danzo said carefully. "His custody falls under Konoha's jurisdiction. Asuma Sarutobi has been serving as temporary guardian pending more permanent arrangements."
"Asuma is grieving his father and completely unprepared to handle a jinchūriki with complex seal issues," Jiraiya countered. "I, on the other hand, am one of the Sannin, an expert in sealing techniques, and—most importantly—someone Hiruzen specifically asked to watch over Naruto if circumstances ever required it. I'm invoking that request now. The boy comes with me."
"Absolutely not." Danzo's response was immediate and flat. "The Nine-Tails is Konohagakure's most valuable strategic asset. We will not allow it to be removed from the village by someone who hasn't lived here in decades, who maintains no permanent residence, who could be captured by enemy forces and interrogated for information about the seal's weaknesses."
"The Nine-Tails and Naruto are not the same thing," Jiraiya said, his voice hardening. "One is a demon. The other is a child—specifically, Minato Namikaze's child. My student's son. That gives me considerably more claim to his guardianship than village policy does."
The revelation hung in the air. Koharu and Homura looked genuinely surprised—apparently that particular detail about Naruto's parentage hadn't been shared with them. Danzo's expression barely flickered, suggesting he'd either known or suspected.
Jiraiya lied smoothly. "And the classification was meant to protect him from enemy nations who'd target a Hokage's child. It wasn't meant to strip him of family connections when his grandfather dies. I have every right to take custody of my student's son, particularly when his current living situation is clearly unsustainable."
"The situation is being managed—" Koharu began.
"The situation is that the village is blaming an eleven-year-old for circumstances beyond his control, that your own public statements have essentially painted him as a dangerous liability, and that I found him sitting alone on a monument contemplating whether the world would be better off without him!" Jiraiya's voice rose despite his intention to remain calm. "That's not managed. That's disaster waiting to happen. So here's what's going to occur: Naruto comes with me. I train him, I help him deal with his seal issues, and I keep him away from a village that's currently too scared and angry to treat him fairly. When tensions calm down and when he's strong enough to command respect rather than fear, then we revisit permanent arrangements."
"That is not your decision to make," Danzo said, his voice carrying steel. "The Nine-Tails belongs to Konohagakure. The container is a village resource, not a child with rights to autonomous guardianship. If you attempt to remove him from the village, you will be classified as a missing-nin and hunted accordingly."
"Is that so?" Jiraiya's smile was dangerous. "Then let me make this very simple for all of you. Either Naruto comes with me with your blessing and under official sanction as my apprentice... or I invoke my right as one of the Legendary Sannin to claim the Hokage position that's currently vacant. And my first act as Hokage will be to grant myself custody and then immediately retire from the position, leaving you to find another candidate. Your choice."
The silence that followed was absolute. Jiraiya invoking his right to the Hokage position wasn't an idle threat—he was one of the few shinobi with both the strength and the political standing to claim it. Tsunade was the only other person with similar credentials, and she'd been missing for years with no indication of returning.
"You wouldn't," Koharu said, but her voice carried uncertainty.
"Try me. I've spent my entire adult life avoiding that position, but I will absolutely claim it for exactly as long as it takes to extract one traumatized child from a hostile environment. Then you can deal with the administrative nightmare of another transition. Or—and here's a revolutionary thought—you could just let me take my godson on a training journey and stop treating a grieving kid like a strategic asset to be managed."
"Godson?" Homura's eyebrows rose. "Minato never mentioned—"
"Minato asked me years before Naruto was born. Before the Nine-Tails attack. It was meant to be ceremonial, something we'd formalize when the kid was old enough to understand. But the designation exists in Minato's personal documents if you care to verify. Point is, I have multiple legitimate claims to guardianship. Now, are we going to keep arguing about jurisdiction, or are we going to do what's actually best for the child in question?"
Danzo stared at him for a long moment, visible eye calculating odds and outcomes. Finally, he spoke with careful neutrality. "A compromise. You may take the boy on a training journey with the following conditions: First, he must check in with the village at regular intervals. Second, you must provide detailed reports on his progress and any seal-related developments. Third, the arrangement is temporary, subject to review based on village needs and his performance. And fourth—" here Danzo's voice hardened slightly, "—you will ensure he develops into a shinobi worthy of what the Fourth Hokage and Third Hokage sacrificed to create. Not a liability. Not a failure. A weapon that serves Konoha's interests. Agreed?"
Every fiber of Jiraiya's being wanted to refuse, wanted to tell Danzo exactly where he could shove his conditions and his weaponization of a traumatized child. But this was the best deal he was likely to get, and Naruto needed out of this village now before the combination of blame and grief destroyed him completely.
"Agreed," Jiraiya said, the word tasting like ash. "We leave within the week. I'll handle arrangements."
He left before they could add more conditions, before Danzo could spin this into something uglier. The hallway outside the Hokage's office felt cleaner somehow, as if the political maneuvering inside had left a residue he needed to wash off.
He found Kakashi Hatake waiting in the corridor, the silver-haired ANBU leaning against a wall with his characteristic masked indifference. But Jiraiya had known him long enough to read the tension in his posture, the way his visible eye tracked movement with more intensity than casual observation required.
"Walk with me," Kakashi said quietly, his tone suggesting this wasn't a request.
They moved through the Tower's corridors in silence until they reached an empty training room. Kakashi swept it for listening devices with practiced efficiency before finally speaking.
"There's something wrong with the official story about Hiruzen-sama's death," Kakashi said without preamble, his voice low and urgent. "I've been conducting my own investigation—quietly, off the books. The pieces don't fit together correctly."
Jiraiya's attention sharpened immediately. "What specifically?"
"The suppression tools used against him." Kakashi pulled out a small scroll with detailed technical drawings. "I examined the remnants after ANBU cleared the scene. They were too specifically calibrated—designed to target not just any shinobi's chakra, but Hiruzen-sama's specific signature. The placement was precise enough to suggest whoever designed them had intimate knowledge of how he fought, which hand seals he preferred, even which chakra pathways he used most frequently for technique activation."
"That level of intel doesn't come from external observation," Jiraiya said, his voice hardening with understanding.
"No. It comes from someone who trained with him extensively or had access to his medical records and combat analysis over years." Kakashi's visible eye was troubled. "The Iwagakure armor was accurate, the techniques matched their style, but the underlying strategy—the specific targeting of Naruto-kun with that corrupting seal, the timing designed to force use of the Reaper Death Seal specifically—all of it suggests someone who wanted Hiruzen-sama dead and wanted the Nine-Tails' container compromised simultaneously."
"You think it was internal." Not a question.
"I know it was internal. I've been tracking the paper trail on those suppression tools. They were commissioned six months ago through a black market supplier who has connections to Root operatives. The seal placed on Naruto-kun was Uzumaki clan work—authentic, not a forgery. That kind of expertise exists in maybe three places worldwide, and one of them is Konoha's own seal research division."
Jiraiya felt cold rage settling in his chest. "Root. Danzo."
"I can't prove it definitively," Kakashi admitted. "The operational security is too good, the connections too carefully obscured. But every thread I pull leads back toward Root operations and timing that suggests extensive planning. This wasn't opportunistic. This was deliberate assassination made to look like enemy action."
"Why tell me this? Why not take it to—" Jiraiya stopped, realizing the obvious answer. "Because anyone you'd report to might be compromised."
"Exactly. The elders, the council, even some ANBU commanders—I don't know who I can trust. But you..." Kakashi's gaze was steady. "You're outside the normal command structure. You have the power to act without needing approval from potentially compromised authorities. And you care about Naruto-kun. That makes you trustworthy."
"What do you need from me?"
"Time. Space to investigate without oversight. And when you take Naruto-kun out of the village, keep him away until I can determine the full scope of this conspiracy. If Danzo was willing to kill the Hokage to advance his agenda, he won't hesitate to eliminate other obstacles—including a jinchūriki he can't fully control."
Jiraiya nodded slowly, pieces clicking into place. "The attack achieved multiple objectives. Removes Hiruzen, who was blocking Danzo's more aggressive policies. Creates conditions where the Nine-Tails' container can be weaponized rather than treated as a person. Provides justification for war with Iwagakure if Danzo can manufacture enough evidence to make the frame job stick. Consolidates power by demonstrating that only hard leadership can prevent such tragedies."
"And positions whoever orchestrated it as the strong leader the village needs in this crisis," Kakashi added grimly. "Classic coup disguised as tragedy."
"I'm taking Naruto with me," Jiraiya said. "Got the elders to agree to a training journey. Officially it's temporary, but I'm keeping him out of reach until this resolves or until he's strong enough that Danzo can't simply eliminate him as an inconvenient liability."
"Good. I'll continue investigating from here. But Jiraiya-sama—" Kakashi's voice carried warning. "Be careful. Danzo has been consolidating power for decades. He has resources, operatives, and patience that makes him more dangerous than any external enemy. If he suspects you know the truth..."
"I'll watch my back. You watch yours. And Kakashi—" Jiraiya's hand rested briefly on the younger man's shoulder. "Thank you. For having the courage to see what others are deliberately ignoring. Hiruzen would be proud of you."
"I'm just trying to honor my sensei's memory by protecting his son the way he'd want." Kakashi's voice was rough with suppressed emotion. "Minato-sensei died to save this village. The least I can do is make sure his sacrifice—and Hiruzen-sama's—actually means something."
The sun was setting, painting the sky in oranges and reds that seemed cruelly cheerful given the week's events. Jiraiya was walking down the Sarutobi compound, and saw someone.
"Mind if I join you, or is this one of those 'smoking alone with grief' moments?" Jiraiya asked, settling beside him without waiting for permission.
"Seems to be a day for unwanted company," Asuma said, but his tone carried no real heat. "Heard you strong-armed the elders into letting you take Naruto."
"Strong-armed is such an uncharitable term. I prefer 'negotiated aggressively with their best interests in mind.'" Jiraiya pulled out his own pipe, went through the ritual of lighting it. "He needs to get out of this village, Asuma. The atmosphere here is toxic for him right now. Too much blame, too much fear. He won't survive it intact."
"I know." Asuma's voice was rough with suppressed emotion. "I've been trying to shield him, but I'm drowning in my own grief and I don't have the tools to help him process his. Every time I look at him, I see my father dying. Every time he looks at me, he sees someone who can barely hold himself together. We're both disasters trying to care for each other and failing."
"Your father asked me years ago to watch over Naruto if something ever happened," Jiraiya said quietly. "Made me promise I'd step in, would help with the seal, would make sure the kid didn't get crushed by the weight of what he carries. I'm keeping that promise now. But I wanted you to know—this isn't me stealing him away. This is me honoring your father's wishes and giving the boy a chance to heal somewhere he's not constantly reminded of what happened."
"How long will you keep him?"
"As long as it takes. A year, maybe two. Until he's strong enough that people respect his power before they fear it. Until the village remembers that he's a person, not just the Nine-Tails' container. Until he can come back here and not be crushed by blame for things that weren't his fault."
Asuma was quiet, smoke curling from his cigarette into the darkening sky. "My father loved that boy. Loved him maybe more than he loved me, if I'm being honest. Saw him as a second chance to get parenting right, to be present in ways he couldn't when I was young because the village always came first. And Naruto loved him back with complete trust, complete faith. That kind of bond... losing it breaks something fundamental. I don't know if he'll ever be whole again."
"Maybe not," Jiraiya acknowledged. "But broken doesn't mean useless. Some of the strongest shinobi I've known were held together by scar tissue and determination. Naruto has more strength in him than he realizes. He just needs time and space and someone who believes in him even when he can't believe in himself. I can give him that."
"Take care of him." Asuma's voice cracked slightly. "He's all I have left of my father's legacy. Don't let him become the weapon Danzo wants. Don't let him lose himself to grief or hatred or the demon inside him."
"I won't. I promise you that, Asuma. Your father sacrificed his soul for that boy. I'll make damn sure that sacrifice means something."
They sat together as night fell over Konohagakure, two men bound by grief and duty and love for a child who'd lost too much too young. Somewhere in the village, Naruto sat alone on his grandfather's stone face, unaware that his future had just been decided, that he was about to leave everything familiar behind for a journey that would either forge him into something extraordinary or break him completely.
The village mourned its Hokage. The elders schemed their schemes. And Jiraiya of the Sannin prepared to honor a promise made years ago to a student and a teacher, both now gone, both having sacrificed everything for a boy who carried demons and grief in equal measure.
Tomorrow he'd tell Naruto about the journey. Tonight, he let the boy have one more night in the only home he'd ever known, one more night before everything changed again.
The river of time flowed on, carrying everyone toward futures they couldn't predict but would have to face nonetheless.
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