Danzo interjected immediately. "Would you die for the village?"
Akira blinked, genuinely confused.
"I don't want to die for anyone," he said simply. "I'm nine years old. What would my death achieve for the village? What benefit would it bring? If it brings neither benefit to the village nor to me, and only makes my mother sad, I'd prefer not dying. Who would want to die?"
The room went very quiet.
Danzo continued, relentless. "If you receive a mission that requires you to sacrifice yourself, or sacrifice your comrades, to complete it, what would you do?"
Akira inhaled slowly.
"This isn't a question with a simple answer," he said. "So I'll explain."
He looked at Hiruzen, not Danzo.
"First, I'd avoid taking a mission beyond my capacity. As per guidelines, if a mission escalates in rank mid-operation, retreat is an option. If it's war, and retreat isn't possible, and someone must stay behind, then you analyze who has the highest chance of surviving long enough for support to arrive."
He tilted his head slightly. "If my sound-based Genjutsu works, I'd use it to trap the enemy, then run in the opposite direction. So neither I nor my comrades die."
A pause.
"Basically, you plan so you never reach that situation. If you do, and the plan failed, then you delay, isolate, reduce numbers, harass. You fight only when you're destined to win. Otherwise, you don't fight. You retreat."
His voice remained calm, almost gentle.
"When you're alive, there are possibilities. When you're dead, possibilities end."
No one spoke.
Hiruzen stared at the boy for a long moment.
This was not the Will of Fire as the village taught it.
Hiruzen did not interrupt him. He let the silence stretch, then asked quietly,"What do you think of the Will of Fire?"
Akira tilted his head, considering. Not searching for the right answer. Searching for an honest one.
"Hm," he said at last. "Basically… it means old people die or sacrifice themselves so the young survive. Then when the young grow up, they die or sacrifice themselves so the next generation survives."
He spoke plainly, without accusation.
"In terms of the village, it means sacrificing personal interests for the collective interest of Konoha. In terms of a clan, it means sacrificing or compromising the clan's interests for the village's interests."
He looked around the room, eyes calm.
"Everyone has to align their interests with the village. The Hokage. Teachers. Students. If the village's collective interest differs from that of an individual or a clan, then that person or clan must realign themselves. Otherwise, they're considered to be going against the Will of Fire."
The words hung in the air.
Not disrespectful.
Clinical.
Tsunade frowned slightly, as if tasting something bitter. Jiraiya looked conflicted, torn between agreement and discomfort. Koharu folded her hands, thoughtful. Orochimaru's eyes gleamed faintly, like someone watching a hypothesis prove itself.
Danzo smiled.
Not warmly.
"That is a very… mature understanding," he said. "For a child."
Akira met his gaze. "It's a system. Systems aren't good or evil. They just… are."
Hiruzen finally spoke again. His voice was softer now.
"And do you agree with it?"
Akira hesitated. Just for a moment.
"I think it works," he said carefully. "But it's incomplete."
"Incomplete?" Hiruzen prompted.
"It assumes sacrifice is always necessary," Akira replied. "And that death automatically has meaning if it serves the village. But sacrifice should be the last option, not the foundation."
He clasped his hands behind his back, posture respectful but steady.
"If the village always needs people to die to function, then the village isn't strong. It's just… hungry."
The room went very still. Danzo's smile vanished. Hiruzen closed his eyes briefly.
Mito Uzumaki, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.
"That," she said gently, "is something only someone who truly values life would say."
Akira blinked, genuinely surprised, then bowed slightly."Thank you, red-haired lady. Are you related to the new transfer student… Uzumaki?"
Mito Uzumaki smiled, a knowing curve to her lips. "You could say that." After a pause, she added, "You have an interesting point of view."
Danzo did not let the moment linger.
"What if your opponents are all strong," he pressed, voice cold and deliberate. "And only through sacrifice can you survive? What should you do then?"
Akira did not bristle. He thought.
"Well," he began slowly, "when you truly have no option but to sacrifice, then you should. But sacrifice isn't sustainable in the long term. It's a waste of resources and possibilities."
He lifted his gaze, meeting Danzo's directly.
"If you are sacrificing, it means you're already on the verge of losing. You're paying a higher cost for a short-term benefit. So there must always be a cost-benefit analysis."
He raised his hand slightly, as if outlining an example in the air.
"Let's say I sacrifice my hand. I have to ask myself: is the benefit worth living the rest of my life without that hand? If I need a replacement, how long will it take? What is the cost of acquiring it? Is the long-term loss worth what I gain in that moment?"
The room remained silent as he continued.
"Now consider the alternatives," Akira continued. "If I don't sacrifice my hand, maybe I lose my life. Or my legs. Or my little brother. Then the question becomes simple, but not easy. Which loss carries the greatest cost over time?"
He shook his head faintly.
"You choose the sacrifice with the lowest long-term cost and the lowest opportunity loss."
He let the words settle before going on.
"Sacrificing for the sake of sacrifice is foolish. Unless what you lose can be replenished."
Akira folded his hands loosely in front of him, posture relaxed but deliberate.
"So let's think like ninja. If a mission requires sacrificing a shinobi, you must first calculate the cost the village will incur because of that loss. Is there a cheaper alternative? If the mission succeeds, does the benefit gained truly compensate for losing that ninja?"
His voice remained steady, free of emotion, which somehow made it more unsettling.
"And second, how much time, money, and effort will the village need to produce another ninja of the same caliber? Will losing that person cause even greater losses in the future because their absence weakens the system?"
A pause followed.
"It's like shogi," he said. "You sacrifice pieces only if it strengthens your position in the long term, not just for immediate gain. Sometimes a temporary loss can lead to a greater victory later."
His eyes lifted briefly toward Hiruzen Sarutobi.
"But if you lose the king, every sacrifice becomes meaningless."
Akira exhaled softly.
"So if you're losing no matter what," Akira continued, voice even, "the answer isn't more sacrifice. The answer is a better strategy. One that secures maximum benefit for the village or the individual at the minimum possible cost."
He tilted his head slightly, as if arranging his thoughts.
"For a village, a clan, or an individual, everything is a resource. People, time, skill, morale, money. It's foolish to waste a resource, or to fail to ensure its optimal utilization. Even reputation can be a tool, if a certain action tarnishes reputation, then one has to consider whether it was worth it. Reputation sometimes acts as a shield or a spear, depending on how it is used."
Then, almost as an aside, he added, deadpan, "Of course, when emotion enters the picture, everything changes. For example, if someone asked me whether I'd rather live without my… pipi… or die, I'd choose death. Living without a pipi isn't worth it."
For a heartbeat, the room was stunned into silence.
Then Jiraiya burst out laughing. "You're a strange kid. Most children don't think this deeply about anything. And honestly…" he wiped a tear from his eye, "I completely agree with the pipi part."
Tsunade's glare cut across the room like a thrown kunai.
Jiraiya coughed, straightened, and abruptly found the ceiling very interesting.
Hiruzen and Danzo did not laugh.
Both of them were thinking.
Everything the Uchiha boy had said made sense. Disturbing sense. And yet, it extended far beyond the Will of Fire, beyond the answers they had been trying to extract. He wasn't rejecting their ideology. He was operating on an entirely different axis.
Hiruzen broke the silence."Don't you want to be Hokage?"
Akira replied instantly. "Nope. Too troublesome."
Several eyebrows twitched.
"I'd rather be strong and have fewer responsibilities," he continued calmly. "Being Hokage means thinking about the village's interests at all times, while also balancing the interests of every individual and every clan so none of them destabilize the village as a whole."
He gave a small, almost helpless shrug.
"That's exhausting. There will always be people who think they're better than you, even when they aren't. And you still have to convince them that you're right. That whatever you're doing benefits them too."
His gaze flicked briefly to Danzo, then returned to Hiruzen.
"Some people are simply selfish. They only care about their own interests, not the village's. You either realign and reshape their interests to match the village's, or you convince them that acting for the collective good benefits them in the long run. Either way, it costs time. It costs resources."
His voice softened, but the edge sharpened.
"And the Leaf is surrounded by vultures. Everyone wants a piece of us. Unless we align their benefits with ours, unless they prosper when we prosper, they'll keep trying to tear chunks out of us."
He paused.
"But we can't fight all the vultures at once. That would just burn through our own strength. Every war costs shinobi, time, knowledge, morale. Each time we fight, we spend resources we can never fully recover. Eventually, either we die… or they do."
Another pause, longer this time.
"And ninja villages are unequal by nature," Akira added. "The real producers are common people. They're always wary of us because we're stronger."
There was no accusation in his tone. Only observation.
"They benefit when the number of ninja is reduced. War keeps us in check. Fear keeps control with them."
He let the thought settle, then tilted his head slightly.
"If you were a daimyo," he continued, voice calm and precise, "would you really want people stronger than you to be independent and outside your control? Of course not. You'd want them under your thumb."
A few eyes narrowed. No one interrupted.
"You'd keep them indebted. Or make their survival depend on you. Or bind them with enough relationships, enough attachments, that acting against you would harm them more than it harms you."
He spread his hands faintly.
"That's just how power works."
Then he added, almost thoughtfully, "I think Madara Uchiha betrayed the village because he no longer had enough bonds tying him to it. If he'd had a wife, children, close friends… he wouldn't have betrayed Konoha."
"He would've thought about their well-being first. He would've played the game instead of trying to break the board."
Akira's eyes were steady now.
"People only try to break the board," he said quietly, "when they have nothing left on it that they care about."
Hiruzen's eyes lit up at those words.
Not at any single sentence, but at the shape of the thinking behind them. It was uncomfortably close to his own conclusions, the ones he rarely voiced aloud. If only the boy had not been an Uchiha, things would have been simpler. Easier. Safer.
And yet… Orochimaru had shown interest. That, in itself, was an option. A dangerous one. But sometimes danger could be guided.
Hiruzen leaned forward slightly.
"Then tell me," he asked, voice even, probing without accusation, "what do you think of the Uchiha? Of your clan."
Akira did not hesitate.
"Well, Hokage-sama," he said frankly, "I think most of my clan members are stupid, arrogant muscleheads."
There was a collective intake of breath.
"They're powerful, yes," he continued calmly, unfazed by the reaction. "But they're also emotional tsunderes."
Jiraiya blinked. Tsunade's lips twitched despite herself.
"They won't say they care about you. They won't say they're worried. Instead, they'll act grumpy, dismissive, or outright hostile, as if concern itself is shameful."
Akira tilted his head, choosing his words carefully.
"It gets worse after they awaken the Sharingan. Uchiha are taught, implicitly or explicitly, to suppress their emotions. To control them. To bury them."
He gestured faintly toward his own face.
"That leads to what I can only describe as emotional paralysis. They feel deeply, but they can't express it properly. So it leaks out sideways. As anger. As arrogance. As cruelty."
His voice was neither bitter nor mocking. Just… tired.
"They confuse emotional restraint with emotional denial. And denial always has a cost."
The room was silent again.
Danzo's expression remained unreadable. Koharu studied Akira with renewed interest. Orochimaru's gaze sharpened, no longer predatory, but keen and analytical, as if he were examining a rare equation that refused to simplify.
Hiruzen leaned back slightly, the tension in the room finally easing.
"It has been enlightening to speak with you, young Akira," he said, voice warm but measured. "You possess Hokage-level thinking and a remarkably sharp mind. Your uncle was once my colleague."
He turned his head slightly, gesturing toward the pale man beside him.
"This is my disciple, Orochimaru. The one who volunteered to be your teacher before."
A pause.
"Would you be willing to become my grand-disciple?"
For the first time since entering the office, Akira smiled freely.
"I would be happy to," he replied without hesitation. "That's no loss for me at all."
The simplicity of the answer, the absence of ambition or fear, settled over the room like a quiet verdict.
Hiruzen smiled.
And somewhere deep within Konoha's walls, the future shifted its weight. Quietly. Unmistakably.
"You may return to your classes, young Uchiha," Hiruzen said at last. "You are dismissed."
Akira bowed politely.
"Take care, Hokage-sama," he said warmly. "Take care, uncles and aunties, brothers and sisters… and my would-be teacher."
He paused at the door, glancing back once.
"We are all travelers," he added lightly, "walking paths of love, survival, or progress. We'll meet again, as we go along the way."
Then he turned and left.
The door closed softly behind him.
For a heartbeat, the room remained still.
Danzo was the first to break the silence.
"Hiruzen," he said coldly, "the boy is too dangerous. Give him to me. I will turn him into a weapon loyal only to Konoha."
Orochimaru's head turned slowly, a thin smile curling on his lips.
"Danzo-sama," he replied smoothly, "are you suggesting you intend to take my disciple? Or do you believe I am incapable of ensuring his loyalty to the village?"
The temperature in the room dropped.
Hiruzen's voice followed, calm but absolute.
"He is Kagami's nephew. He is an Uchiha. I will not give him to you."
Danzo's eye narrowed.
"Orochimaru will oversee his development," Hiruzen continued. "You are forbidden from involving yourself further in this matter. You will not harass him. You will not approach him."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Our teacher once had Kagami Uchiha as a student. It is time, perhaps long overdue, that there is an Uchiha aligned openly with the Hokage's faction."
Danzo's jaw tightened.
"Hiruzen," he said quietly, "you will regret this."
Hiruzen did not raise his voice.
"I am the Hokage."
The words fell like a final seal.
Danzo stared at him for a long moment, then turned sharply and strode toward the door. It slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing down the corridor.
Several seconds passed.
Then Danzo slowed.
His steps faltered.
Damn it.
He had left too early.
There were still discussions to be had. The Jinchūriki. The Uzumaki girl. The implications of the Uchiha boy's development. Information he needed to hear firsthand.
Cursing under his breath, Danzo continued walking toward his office..
Meanwhile, in the Hokage's office—
Koharu broke the silence first.
"Danzo is not entirely wrong," she said carefully. "The boy is dangerous. His thinking is far too mature for his age. The way he framed everything… do you truly believe you'll be able to control him, Hiruzen?"
Hiruzen smiled faintly,
"I don't need to control him," he replied. "Nor do I want to. I only need to align his interests with the village."
He then turned toward Mito Uzumaki.
"Mito-sama. Your observations? Did you sense any anomalies?"
Mito closed her eyes briefly, recalling the encounter.
"He held no malice toward anyone in this room," she said at last. "He was curious. Occasionally confused. At times… quietly wondering whether the adults around him were foolish."
A small smile tugged at her lips.
"And when he said he only wanted to enjoy life, and had no desire to become Hokage," she continued, "he meant it. Completely."
She opened her eyes.
"I have never encountered an Uchiha like him. Tell me… was his father a Nara?"
Sakumo answered immediately.
"My lady, his father was not an Uchiha. But he was not a Nara either. His mother is a full-blooded Uchiha."
Mito hummed thoughtfully.
"So… half blood. Does that make Uchihas more… normal?" she mused. "The boy himself believes his clan to be emotionally unstable."
Sakumo hesitated. "I… wouldn't know how to answer that, Mito-sama."
She turned back to Hiruzen.
"You will keep an eye on him."
"Of course," Hiruzen replied without hesitation.
"Good," Mito said, rising to her feet. "I will speak with Kushina once she returns. Today has been… interesting."
With that, she left the office.
Once the door closed, Hiruzen leaned back in his chair and relit his pipe. The conversation replayed itself in his mind, every word weighed, every pause examined.
"He would rather be an advisor than a Hokage," Hiruzen murmured to himself. "And that obsession with aligning interests… fascinating."
He looked around the room.
"Well? What do you all think of him?"
Jiraiya grinned.
"I think he's just like me. Handsome, peace-loving, and eager to enjoy life. Maybe I should take him as my disciple instead of Orochi—"
Tsunade cut him off instantly.
"And turn him into a womanizer and a peeping tom?"
Jiraiya recoiled. "What? Of course not! Tsunade, you must understand, it's research."
"Don't insult my intelligence," Tsunade snapped. "If I catch you near a women's bathhouse again, and especially if you try to corrupt that boy, I'll personally send you to the hospital to repent."
She turned back to Hiruzen, tone professional once more.
"Sensei, the Uchiha kid is… peculiar. But his potential is undeniable. That wide-range Genjutsu alone is something I've never seen before."
She adjusted her coat.
"Anyway, I'm heading to the hospital. I have patients to check."
With that, Tsunade left.
"I'm off too, Sensei," Jiraiya said cheerfully, already halfway out the window.
Hiruzen sighed.
"Orochimaru. Your thoughts?"
Orochimaru's smile was thin and unreadable.
"I believe the boy is worth studying," he said softly. "He is hiding many things. I would like to know what they are."
He bowed slightly.
"Let us see how the windmills turn."
Then he, too, departed.
Homura cleared his throat.
"Hiruzen, war is approaching. We should be focusing on war preparations. The Uchiha boy may be a genius, but Konoha has never lacked for those. Monitor him, yes, but there are more pressing matters."
Koharu nodded.
"I agree. And I'll add this: the boy doesn't seem particularly attached to his clan. Perhaps… he could be used to divide the Uchiha."
Hiruzen did not respond.
But the look in his eyes suggested that, at least in part, he agreed.
The pipe smoldered quietly.