October 20th.
A full week had passed since the Daimyo's royal messenger toad had breached the smoky confines of the border town tavern, yet for Tsunade Senju, every passing day felt less like moving forward and more like a grueling, suffocating journey backward through time.
As the rhythmic, exhausted clopping of their horses slowed to a methodical walk, the distant, sprawling horizon began to take a painfully familiar shape. Rising above the dense, autumnal canopy of the surrounding forests were the towering, impenetrable walls of the Hidden Leaf Village. Above them, the same lazy plumes of woodsmoke drifted into the crisp autumn sky, and nestled within the valley were the identical red-tiled roofs she had desperately tried to erase from her memory. And there, standing as the ultimate threshold between her past and her present, were the massive, imposing green gates of Konoha—the very gates she had turned her back on so many bitter years ago.
Tsunade pulled gently on the reins, bringing her horse to a complete halt. Her amber eyes locked onto the towering wooden doors.
How many times had she walked down this exact dirt road? How many times had she stood at this very vantage point, weighed down by the crushing grief of war, making the conscious, desperate decision to leave this village behind forever? She had spent decades running. Running from the ghosts, running from the legacy, running from the suffocating expectations of her bloodline. Yet today, as she prepared to cross that threshold once more, she realized something profound: the frantic, erratic urge to flee was entirely gone. Her legs did not itch to turn around. Instead, deep within the buried recesses of her soul, a different, older, and far more terrifying dread had awakened.
To the rest of the world, Konohagakure was a military superpower. To her, it was a graveyard.
This was the soil that had eagerly swallowed the blood of her optimistic little brother, Nawaki. This was the earth that held the shattered dreams of Dan Kato. This was the village where her family's grand, romanticized legacy, her own shattered aspirations, and her most agonizing traumas were all violently buried together in a mass grave of duty. For twenty years, she hadn't just been running from the village; she had been running from the oppressive weight of those memories.
Tsunade closed her eyes and took a long, deep, shuddering breath, filling her lungs with the scent of pine and damp earth.
When she opened her eyes, they were steeled. She nudged her horse forward. This time, she would not turn back.
As they approached the main entrance, the two Chunin guards stationed at the gate cast a bored, routine glance over the approaching travelers. They were used to merchants, wandering monks, and weary civilians. But as the blonde woman drew closer, stepping out from the shadows of the forest canopy and into the midday sun, one of the guard's eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock. His hand instinctively, nervously drifted away from the kunai pouch strapped to his thigh.
"Wait..." the guard breathed out, stepping forward.
The second guard turned, annoyed by the break in protocol, but the moment his eyes landed on the diamond seal resting upon the woman's forehead and her unmistakable, striking features, his entire demeanor shattered.
"Is that actually..." he stammered, his voice cracking. "Lady Tsunade?"
A faint, incredibly weary smile tugged at the corners of Tsunade's lips. "It seems my face hasn't aged quite enough to be entirely forgotten."
Immediately, as if struck by lightning, both guards snapped into rigid, perfectly straight postures. This was not the standard, reluctant salute given to a bureaucratic superior. This was a visceral, deeply ingrained show of reverence. They were bowing to the blood of the founders, to a Legendary Sannin, and to the living history of the Hidden Leaf.
"Welcome back, Lady Tsunade!" the first guard shouted, bowing at a perfect ninety-degree angle.
"Welcome home to Konoha!" the second echoed fervently.
Tsunade stared at them for a prolonged moment in silence. It was a strange, disorienting sensation. After abandoning her post, drowning her sorrows in alcohol, and racking up colossal gambling debts across the elemental nations, she had fully expected the village to treat her like a disgraced deserter, or at best, a wandering ghost. But in their eyes, she saw absolutely no judgment—only pure, unfiltered reverence.
"Thank you," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
And with those two words, she walked past the massive green doors. The very gates she had once fled through in a haze of grief were now the jaws of the beast she was willingly stepping back into.
Walking down the bustling main thoroughfare of Konoha, Tsunade experienced a profound, unsettling cognitive dissonance.
The village was deeply familiar, yet simultaneously entirely alien. She could navigate these winding streets blindfolded, relying purely on muscle memory, yet so much of the landscape had shifted. Several old, recognizable storefronts had vanished, replaced by modern, multi-story buildings. The civilians wore different styles of clothing, and the marketplace buzzed with an influx of diverse, foreign goods she had never seen before. But the most jarring change was not the architecture—it was the atmosphere. The heavy, rigid, oppressive military tension that had defined Konoha during the Great Wars was entirely absent. In its place was a strange, vibrating hum of intellectual and social restlessness.
"This place has changed so much, Lady Tsunade," Shizune whispered, clutching her pet pig, Tonton, tightly to her chest, her dark eyes darting nervously at the crowds.
Tsunade offered no reply. Her gaze was aimlessly sweeping the storefronts when it suddenly locked onto a wooden sign hanging elegantly above a newly polished storefront.
A red and white fan.
The Uchiha Crest.
Tsunade stopped dead in her tracks, causing several civilians to part around her. "The Uchiha?" she muttered, her brow furrowing in deep confusion. "Operating a civilian storefront in the main market district?"
The shop did not resemble an armory. There were no displays of shuriken, no racks of katana, and no tactical vests. Through the pristine glass window, Tsunade saw an immaculate, brightly lit interior filled with microscopic mechanical devices, impossibly complex pocket watches, delicate metal tools, and ornate jewelry. She could recognize the sheer craftsmanship, but she could not fathom a universe where the proud, bloodthirsty Uchiha Clan spent their time crafting pocket watches.
Driven by an irrepressible curiosity, she pushed the wooden door open. The soft chime of a bell announced her entry.
Sitting behind a pristine glass counter was an elderly man. He had a jeweler's loupe pressed into his right eye and was delicately adjusting the microscopic gears of a complex device with a pair of silver tweezers. His hair was stark white, and his face was mapped with deep, weathered wrinkles.
At the sound of the chime, he slowly raised his head. For a long, agonizing moment, he simply stared at the blonde woman standing in the doorway, his single unmagnified eye refusing to blink. Slowly, a profound light of recognition ignited within his dark pupils.
"Am I dreaming?" the old man whispered, his voice raspy from disuse.
Tsunade stepped further into the shop, letting the door click shut behind her. The old man offered a faint, almost melancholic smile. "Lady Tsunade."
Tsunade analyzed his face. The wrinkles obscured his youth, but her peerless memory eventually pulled a name from the depths of her mind. "You..." she said softly, piecing the puzzle together. "You were a shinobi. An elite captain in the Military Police Force."
The elderly man let out a dry, wheezing chuckle. "Formerly?" He looked down at his trembling, calloused hands, hands that had undoubtedly spilled gallons of blood. "Now... I am merely a humble shopkeeper."
He slowly rose from his stool, walked out from behind the glass counter, and offered a deep, genuinely respectful bow. "Congratulations on your safe return, Lady Tsunade. To speak truthfully, I never thought I would live to see you walk these streets again."
"I never thought I would, either," Tsunade replied, her tone flat, masking the storm of emotions swirling in her chest.
Smiling, the elderly man gestured proudly to the immaculate displays lining the walls of his shop. "Before we speak of politics and the burdens of the past, please, look at this."
He picked up a small, incredibly intricate mechanical device and activated it. Inside, dozens of microscopic gears began to turn in perfect, silent unison. It was a masterpiece of engineering.
Tsunade leaned in, her trained medical eyes tracing the flawless alignment of the mechanisms. "You built this?"
"With my own two hands," he said softly. "And with the microscopic visual acuity of the Sharingan."
He showed her another device. Then a beautifully crafted timepiece. And finally, a set of surgical scalpels and precision medical tools so phenomenally balanced and exquisitely sharpened that even Tsunade's eyes widened in genuine awe.
"These... these are truly magnificent," she admitted, unable to hide her professional admiration.
A faint, prideful glow illuminated the old man's weathered face. "It was quite a shock to us, too," he confessed quietly, "to discover that hands stained with so much blood were capable of creating something so beautiful."
Tsunade tore her gaze away from the tools and looked around the shop, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. "But when did the Uchiha begin doing this? What happened to the Military Police Force? Your clan's pride?"
The old man's smile faded, replaced by a profound, ancient exhaustion that Tsunade recognized all too well.
"It happened when we finally realized that we do not have to remain the monsters the village designed us to be."
Tsunade remained silent, allowing the weight of his words to settle.
"We were tired, Lady Tsunade," the elder whispered, his voice carrying the collective grief of generations. "So incredibly tired."
"Tired of what?"
"Of the old men sitting in high chairs. Of the endless orders. Of the suffocating, cyclical politics. We were trapped in a perpetual, bloody game where we were simultaneously wielded as the village's greatest weapon, and ostracized as its greatest threat. We were the police, the executioners, the boogeymen... used solely for the power of our eyes, yet hated for possessing them."
He looked back down at his trembling hands. "So, we decided to step off the board entirely. We thought, if we must use the power of our eyes, why not channel it into creation? Why not build things that make the people of this village look at us with respect and utility, rather than sheer, unadulterated terror?"
Tsunade looked out the storefront window, watching civilians walk freely past the Uchiha crest without crossing the street in fear. "And it seems to have worked."
"To a degree," the elder replied, a sad smile touching his lips. But within a fraction of a second, the smile vanished, replaced by a dark, looming shadow. "But Shisui's death has shattered the foundation of our peace. It has shaken everything."
Tsunade's expression hardened. The Daimyo's letter had explicitly mentioned the political fallout of the assassination. "Do you believe the Uchiha will abandon this peace? Will you return to your weapons?"
The old man looked directly into Tsunade's eyes. For a fleeting moment, the dormant, terrifying pride of the Uchiha flared in his dark pupils.
"We may have laid down our swords, Lady Tsunade... but we have not forgotten how to wield them. A new spark has been ignited within the compound. The majority of us wish to remain in the light, to continue this peace, but Shisui's murder cannot simply be brushed under the rug. We cannot let it go."
He paused, a heavy silence stretching between them.
"Perhaps," the Uchiha elder said softly, his voice trembling with a desperate, underlying plea, "you can fix this."
Tsunade's eyes narrowed slightly. "Me?"
"You are Tsunade Senju," the elder stated, as if that name alone possessed a magical gravity. "Perhaps there are still those in the Hokage Tower who will listen to your voice."
Tsunade did not offer an answer. She simply turned and walked out of the shop.
But before the door could close, the elder spoke one final time, his words chilling her to the bone.
"Perhaps, Lady Tsunade, you can give us a reason to believe that this village is still worth saving. Because right now... the only light we see in the darkness is coming from a seven-year-old boy who has every reason in the world to hate us all."
Walking a few blocks away from the Uchiha shop, nearing a busy intersection, Tsunade and Shizune found their path slowed by a dense crowd of civilians and off-duty shinobi.
As they navigated the throng, snippets of animated conversation drifted into Tsunade's ears.
"I heard he caught another thief today at the training ground."
"Whose lies did he catch this time?"
"That merchant from the textile district. The man was crying, screaming that the village's taxation policies had bankrupted him and ruined his family."
"And then what happened?"
"Naruto looked him dead in the eye and told him he was a liar in front of hundreds of people."
"No way. What did he do?"
"He deduced the truth right there! He told the merchant that he had actually gambled all his money away and was just blaming the village to hide his shame. You should have seen the guy's face! He turned white as a sheet and ran away without defending himself!"
Tsunade's boots ground to an abrupt halt against the pavement. Shizune, nearly walking into her back, stopped as well.
"Naruto?" Tsunade whispered the name, the syllables feeling heavy on her tongue. Kushina's son?
Another voice from the crowd drifted over.
"That's the same kid who's been teaching the Academy students to question their curriculum, right?"
"Yeah. I heard his chakra control is absolutely monstrous for his age. Beyond Jonin level."
"Just his chakra control?" a third man laughed nervously. "Brother, you're behind the times. I heard he can literally sense people's emotions. The kid is a living, breathing, human lie-detector!"
Tsunade turned her head slowly, looking at Shizune. Her amber eyes swirled with a profound, terrifying confusion.
"Is this the same Naruto? Minato and Kushina's boy?"
"I... I think so," Shizune stammered, holding Tonton tighter. "I heard a lot of strange, incredible rumors about him on the road, but I thought they were just exaggerations."
Tsunade stood motionless as the crowd moved around her. Her mind raced, processing the sheer impossibility of the situation.
A seven-year-old child.
The Uchiha elders were speaking of him with a tone bordering on reverence. The merchants were terrified of his deductions. The Academy students were adopting his philosophies.
And now, the entire village was whispering his name, not in fear of the demon fox, but in awe of the boy himself.
"Before we do anything else," Tsunade said, her voice dropping into a deadly, uncompromising register, "I need to have a very long conversation with Hiruzen."
Without waiting for Shizune's reply, she pivoted and marched directly toward the towering red structure of the Hokage Tower, her coat billowing behind her like a war banner.
Hiruzen Sarutobi stood by the expansive window of his office, gazing out over the sprawling village he had governed for decades. His face was entirely obscured by a thick, swirling cloud of pipe smoke.
The heavy wooden doors to his office did not receive a polite knock. They were shoved open with enough force to rattle the hinges.
"Judging by the dramatic entrance, I see the Daimyo has finally managed to force you back to us," Hiruzen remarked calmly, not even bothering to turn around.
Tsunade marched into the center of the room, her presence instantly dominating the space. "No," she spat, her voice laced with absolute, freezing contempt. "I came back on my own volition. And before we exchange pleasantries, you are going to tell me one thing, Hiruzen."
She dropped the honorifics. There was no 'Lord Third' or 'Sensei' here.
"What in the name of the Sage did you do to allow things to deteriorate so disastrously that the Fire Daimyo had to personally intervene in internal Konoha politics?"
Hiruzen finally turned away from the window. An unbearable, ancient exhaustion seemed to physically weigh down his shoulders. He walked slowly to his desk, set his pipe down in the ashtray, and gestured to a chair.
"Sit down, Tsunade."
"I am not here to sit," she shot back, crossing her arms. "Explain."
With a heavy sigh, Hiruzen began to unravel the tangled, rotting web of the past seven years.
He spoke of Naruto. He detailed the years of systematic, inhumane isolation the boy had endured. The absolute loneliness. He explained the Uchiha Clan's shifting paradigm, their resignation from the Police Force, and their unprecedented integration into the civilian market. He detailed the suspicious, politically volatile death of Shisui Uchiha. He spoke of Danzo's ever-encroaching shadows, the Daimyo's furious royal edict, and most importantly... the boy's public 'classes,' and the philosophical earthquake that was currently fracturing the societal foundation of the entire Fire Country.
Tsunade listened in absolute silence. She didn't interrupt, she didn't gasp, and she didn't blink. But as Hiruzen detailed the sheer scale of the psychological abuse Naruto had suffered during his formative years, the stoic mask on Tsunade's face contorted into an expression of raw, unadulterated, murderous fury.
"You left him alone?" Tsunade hissed through gritted teeth, her voice vibrating with lethal chakra.
Hiruzen lowered his eyes to his desk. "Yes."
"You allowed this village to project their hatred onto him? Onto Minato and Kushina's only child? The child of the heroes who saved them?"
"Yes."
"And you tolerated this unspeakable cruelty simply because he housed the Nine-Tails? Because it was politically convenient?"
Hiruzen remained silent for a long, agonizing moment. "I have made many grave miscalculations, Tsunade. I truly thought that protecting his identity was paramount. I thought—"
SMASH!
Tsunade's fist slammed into the solid oak desk with the force of a meteor. The massive wooden structure splintered instantly, a massive spiderweb of cracks spreading from her knuckles.
"That was not a 'miscalculation,' Hiruzen!" Tsunade roared, the sheer volume of her voice shaking the framed portraits of the previous Hokage on the wall. "That was a heinous, inhumane crime committed against an innocent child!"
Hiruzen bowed his head, accepting the venom. "I am deeply sorry."
Tsunade glared at him, her chest heaving with exertion. The terrifying spike in her chakra slowly receded, though her anger remained a boiling cauldron.
"And now?" she demanded coldly. "What is this child doing now that has the entire nation in a panic?"
Hiruzen interlaced his fingers, recounting the recent weeks. He explained how Naruto had, entirely on his own, developed a level of chakra control that defied logic. He then brought up the incident at the Academy involving the Hyuga heiress.
Tsunade, the undisputed greatest medical-nin in the history of the elemental nations, abruptly froze. Her eyes widened in utter disbelief.
"Wait. Stop. What did he do?"
"He saved Hana Hyuga's life," Hiruzen explained, his voice laced with awe. "Her chakra network was violently rupturing due to an external sabotage. The medical staff was powerless. Naruto intervened and used his own chakra to manually stabilize her pathways."
Tsunade actually took a physical step back, her medical expertise screaming at the absurdity of the statement. "That is absolute nonsense!" she barked. "A seven-year-old child cannot stabilize a rupturing chakra network! The tenketsu pathways are thinner than microscopic capillaries! The level of localized, micro-cellular chakra manipulation required to safely bridge a ruptured pathway without causing further catastrophic damage is something even the most elite Jonin medics in this hospital cannot achieve! How the hell did a child do that?"
"No one knows, Tsunade," Hiruzen admitted, his voice heavy with resignation. "But the miracles do not end there."
He went on to detail Naruto's empathic abilities—his flawless capacity for lie detection. He spoke of the philosophical classes where the boy systematically dismantled decades of military indoctrination, teaching the populace to question authority, to seek truth, and to reject blind obedience.
Tsunade let out a long, trembling breath.
"A boy..." she whispered, turning to look out the shattered window, her mind struggling to comprehend the sheer magnitude of the situation. "A seven-year-old boy... is dismantling the ideological foundation of this entire village."
After a long pause, she added softly, "And perhaps, not just this village."
Hiruzen reached out and tapped a complex seal on a massive, metallic communication device resting on a side table.
"Before you go anywhere, Tsunade... there is one more conversation that must be had."
Tsunade furrowed her brow. "With whom?"
"The Fire Daimyo."
Tsunade did not respond. A few minutes later, the intricate chakra circuitry carved into the device flared to life. The air in the office hummed with a low vibration as a beam of blue, concentrated light projected upward, coalescing into the crisp, lifelike holographic image of the Fire Daimyo.
The royal sovereign looked down from the projection. A faint, nostalgic smile touched his lips.
"It has been far too long, Slug Princess."
Tsunade did not smile. She stood rigidly, her voice devoid of warmth. "Daimyo-sama, I kindly request you refrain from using those antiquated titles."
The Daimyo let out a brief, humorless chuckle. "Very well. Let us discard the pleasantries and cut straight to the marrow." His smile vanished instantly, replaced by the crushing gravity of a ruler presiding over a crumbling empire.
"The geopolitical situation is rapidly deteriorating, Tsunade."
The atmosphere in the room grew suffocatingly dense.
"The political instability within Konoha is no longer a domestic secret. We are becoming the laughingstock of the elemental nations. The hidden villages of Kumo and Iwa have mobilized their intelligence networks. The turmoil spilling out into the streets is no longer confined to your alleys. The entire world is watching us bleed."
The Daimyo cast a stern glance at Hiruzen. "The Uchiha Clan is consolidating their economic power on one side. Danzo Shimura is operating his shadows on the other."
His gaze then shifted back to Tsunade. "And that boy... he is carving an entirely new, unpredictable path right through the center of it all."
"These factions have created such massive ideological fissures within Konoha that our enemies are merely biding their time, waiting for a single, fatal slip. If that slip occurs, if a civil war breaks out, Kumo and Iwa will descend upon the Land of Fire and tear this village apart like starving wolves."
The Daimyo's voice dropped into a commanding, absolute register. "You must do something, Tsunade. You must take the reins."
Tsunade closed her eyes. Her entire body began to tremble, a subtle but undeniable tremor taking over her hands.
"My Lord..." she whispered, her voice cracking, sounding incredibly fragile for a woman of her stature. "I am not ready for this."
The Daimyo remained silent, offering no reprieve.
"I am entirely unworthy of this monumental responsibility. I..." The profound, ancient agony she had drowned in liquor for twenty years bubbled to the surface. "I am still terrified of blood."
A horrifying, dead silence fell over the Hokage's office. The greatest medical-nin in the world, a Legendary Sannin, had just openly confessed her most crippling, shameful weakness to the sovereign of the nation.
"I cannot look at blood without breaking," Tsunade continued, her voice trembling violently, tears threatening to spill. "Whenever I see it, my body goes numb. The world fades away, and all I see is the face of my brother, Nawaki... and the shattered chest of Dan. My hands shake so violently I cannot even hold a scalpel. I cannot save a single life. I am broken, Daimyo-sama. I am a hollow shell. I cannot shoulder the burden of a dying village."
The Daimyo watched her holographic projection for a long, unwavering moment. There was no cruelty in his eyes, but there was also no trace of false, coddling sympathy. There was only the brutal, unforgiving truth of the shinobi world.
"If you continue to cling to that belief, Tsunade..." the Daimyo said, his voice terrifyingly calm, "...then Konoha will surely perish as well."
Tsunade's eyes snapped open, a flash of defensiveness overriding her grief. "That is an incredibly harsh verdict, my Lord."
"The truth is inherently harsh."
The Daimyo leaned forward. "Your current Hokage is merely delaying the storm. He is attempting to plug holes in a sinking ship. He cannot control the tide... or perhaps, due to his ancient loyalties, he simply refuses to. I cannot say for certain."
Hiruzen did not react to the blatant, royal insult. He simply stared at his ruined desk, knowing the Daimyo was entirely correct.
"But what I do know," the Daimyo continued, his tone softening just a fraction, "is that this crisis will not resolve itself. It requires a leader unburdened by the shadows of Danzo's past. And you... you are Tsunade Senju. You are the sole surviving, direct descendant of Hashirama Senju."
The Daimyo's eyes bore into hers. "That is precisely why I place my faith in you."
Tsunade said nothing. She looked down at her own trembling, clenched fists, the phantom sensation of sticky, warm blood coating her skin.
"Do not fret. I am not forcing you to make a definitive decision at this exact second," the Daimyo stated with royal dignity. "First, collect yourself. Walk the streets of this changing village. Understand the modern problems. Speak to the people. Attempt to comprehend this Uzumaki boy. Understand the plight of the Uchiha. Look at the reality standing before you without the lens of your past trauma."
He paused, letting the silence stretch. "Once you have done that, we shall resume this conversation."
Tsunade slowly, hesitantly raised her head, meeting the Daimyo's gaze.
The sovereign offered her one final, deeply serious look. "Until then... remember exactly who you are."
A brief pause.
"Tsunade Senju."
And then, in a whisper that carried the weight of a legendary legacy:
"Princess of the Senju."
The blue light of the communication device flickered and died, plunging the room back into the heavy, smoke-filled silence of the afternoon.
Tsunade stood perfectly still, staring at the blank, metallic screen for a long, agonizing time. The Daimyo's commanding words, Hiruzen's shameful confessions, and the Uchiha elder's desperate plea echoed relentlessly in her mind in a chaotic symphony.
She closed her eyes, seeking a moment of respite, but found none.
Suddenly, a vivid, agonizingly sharp memory pierced her consciousness like a blade. She saw Nawaki, her optimistic little brother, standing before her in the sunlight. His youthful eyes burned with the exact same untamed, passionate fire that had once defined their grandfather, Hashirama.
"Big sister! I'm going to be the Hokage! I'm going to protect the village!"
And then the vision shifted. She saw Dan Kato—her great love, the man who had promised to stand by her side—bleeding out in the mud, sacrificing his life to protect the very village her grandfather had carved from the wilderness.
Tsunade's eyes flew open. She was staring at the blank wall of the Hokage's office. A single, hot tear escaped her control, tracing a slow path down her cheek.
"I failed them all," she whispered, her voice fracturing. "I ran away from everything they believed in. I abandoned their dreams."
She stared at the wall for a few moments longer, letting the grief wash over her. But then, slowly, she looked down at her trembling hand. She clenched her fingers inward, forming a tight, white-knuckled fist. The trembling ceased.
"We are going to that training ground," Tsunade declared, her voice suddenly devoid of hesitation. For the first time in twenty years, a strange, powerful mix of genuine curiosity and the indomitable resolve of the Senju bloodline resonated in her tone. "I need to see this boy with my own two eyes."
Shizune, who had been standing silently near the door, took a hesitant step forward. "But, Lady Tsunade... what if... what if the rumors are true? What if he senses your fear? What if he reads the trauma in your heart?"
Tsunade paused at the threshold of the office, her hand resting on the wooden frame. She did not turn back to look at her assistant.
"Then perhaps," Tsunade said softly, a profound acceptance coloring her words, "this seven-year-old child will teach me something I have spent twenty years running away from. Besides... whether I have honored the bond or not, I am the closest living relative that boy has left in this village."
With that final, earth-shattering realization hanging in the air, the Princess of the Senju stepped out of the Hokage Tower and into the blinding light of the village.