The Zero Tails Jinchuriki #2

Disclaimer - I don’t own anything. As the corporations say these days, you will own nothing & be happy. I don't, and have never claimed to, own Naruto or any of its characters. With that out of the way, let’s goooo!

Hokage Tower [Days after Nine Tails Attack]

–Hiruzen Sarutobi–

“What?!” “Are you out of your mind?” “Why would you do something like this?” “Even during the height of the war, we never dared call him back.”

He tuned out their outbursts, forgiving this slight because they were his friends and also because their reactions were warranted, at least in this scenario. That did not mean that he could dismiss their current states, namely, their current uninjured states.

They were still speaking when he cut through all of their objections with a single question, “Where were you?”

“What?” Koharu asked him while Homura and Danzo remained silent, likely realising where he was going with his line of questioning.

“I asked,” He said, leaning forward, his chakra filling out the room, “Where were you? For all this time, where were you?”

“I-I, Hiruzen, I was in the–” Koharu stammered, looking at her comrades for support and growing frantic when she found none.

“Yes,” He said, grimly, leaning back, chakra that roared before dissipating like the wind in his office as he continued, “You were in the shelter, with your family, safe and sound. For days, days, I have been roaming the village, helping rescue people and, in most cases, corpses, faces whom I remember being alive when I handed them their missions. I have been running myself ragged all this time, and the minute I find some reprieve, some time to do work, guess who comes running to me?”

The silence was palpable in the room, no one willing to risk his wrath further.

He leaned back, suddenly unwilling to continue this conversation anymore. He exhaled and looked out of the window, his eyesight, diminished with age, stress and exhaustion as it was, still caught the ninjas hopping from rooftop to rooftop, risking their lives for the village.

Still doing what was asked of them without even knowing if their family was still alive or if they even had the opportunity to see their loved ones for the last time because the Nine Tails had blasted their family to bits, not even leaving behind a body to bury. 

He personally knew shinobi who had taken on mission after mission, running on fumes, just so they could meet their family in the Pure Lands and complete their duty to the village. It was all in front of his eyes. He had seen generations of shinobis grow and prosper under his watch, he could tell from their eyes when they had given up and were only going through the motions.

The fact that he could see people like them, whose Will of Fire burned brighter than his own, and then he only had to turn his neck to see people who seemed more like leeches to that same Will of Fire, he felt disgusted with himself, to even consider their opinion to lead the village, when they had not been present when the village needed it most, seemed preposterous to him.

Biwako would slap him upside the head for thinking like this, to be so down, even when things seemed bleak. She would say that we should be upbeat, especially when things seem bleak, because he was the Hokage and the Hokage’s face represented the village.

Biwako…

The mere thought of her threatened to overwhelm him. There was going to be a state funeral, in a week’s worth of time. Time that was necessary to catalogue the sheer number of casualties inside the village, both in terms of shinobi as well as civilians. He had to give the ANBU as well as the Admin teams a breather because they might as well collapse if he tried to push them to catalogue the dead faster.

The strain of seeing more and more dead ones, it was something he knew very well. It weighs heavily on anyone, the trauma of losing loved ones and then the added burden of being the ones to survive. Survivor’s guilt was something he could see in every second shinobi. It was something he would have to address sooner or later, preferably sooner because his forces could not afford having shinobi who wanted to die.

Slowly turning his neck to look at the people whom the village had not seen even once during the crisis, he had only one thing to say to them.

“Leave.”

All of them looked at each other as Danzo looked at him with something indecipherable in his eyes. He must have been expecting someone different, someone trusting in this meeting and being told off like this so blatantly must have been somewhat of a shock.

He was not blind to Danzo’s faults but the attack, losing Biwako, and Minato, it had changed him. The damage cut deep as he found himself less tolerant of Danzo’s bullshit. He vowed to make sure that Danzo did not take any drastic steps but that was for later. For now, he just needed to–

Abruptly, Danzo stood up, chair skidding back, as he turned around and stormed out of the room, not sparing a glance at the two left behind who exchanged awkward glances before hesitantly leaving as well, the meeting having not gone their way.

The moment the door closed, he sagged in the chair, feeling far more exhausted than before. He could have cast a dozen more jutsu before feeling as exhausted as he was feeling after a single meeting with his former council.

Yes, he was not going to necessarily reinstate the council that Minato had disbanded in all but name, stripping away most of their powers and keeping them as an advisory council that he didn’t even call to most important meetings.

When he was retired, that was not relevant to him, but now that he had to take the reins once more, he would have to see what all changes Minato had done to the village, if not visible, then in the background.

He just hoped calling Kenta back would ease a significant burden off his shoulders. Not having to worry about projecting power after such a catastrophic event was his number one priority because that would show strength to potential clients, reassure current clients as well as the Daimyo that they would pull through just fine, stop any of their enemies or allies, from getting any ideas.

More missions would mean more money, more resources which could then be invested into the population of Konoha, creating a positive cycle that should result in fresh blood being injected into Konoha and creating a new cream crop. Konoha has never lacked talent, and he had hope that within a decade at most, the next generation of S-class shinobi would be available to get this hat and haori off of him.

____xx____

Land of Fire

–Hiroto “Dragon” Hiruzen–

He flew silently, from branch to branch, as he raced to cover the distance between him and their target. It was an ingenious way of making sure that they never lost track of someone who was constantly on the move, between a dozen or so locations.

Something that the Yondaime Hokage had devised when he had taken over, creating a cipher that had the keys to his target’s location. He had been travelling non stop, to make sure he reached the target before he moved onto the next location, which would just add another day’s worth of travel which was just not desirable in the current situation. 

The file he got from the Third Hokage was sparse, incredibly so, especially when it came to assignments that came to him. He was usually very well informed on how most missions were going to be carried out, being the ANBU Commander, but this time, something was different.

He knew he was recovering someone very important because the Third Hokage would not have sent one of the very few surviving Elite Jonins of the village to the edge of the Land of Fire for a trivial task.

He only had a name and a scroll, along with a very familiar Kunai. He did not know how the Fourth’s signature Kunai was going to be helpful here but he was hoping that it was merely a method used to identify a shinobi from Konoha.

He was already running on fumes as it is, and he did not fancy a fight with someone who was important enough to be called back to the village during a time of such crisis. 

Similar summons had already been sent to the two Sannins outside the village and for the third summons to be delivered by him meant that something was off.

He jumped down from the last tree branch as the trees around him became smaller and farther in distance, leading him to a clearing, in the middle of nowhere. It looked and felt like a regular clearing, man made, with no grass growing but something felt off.

He surveyed the area and then his hands shot up, “Kai!” as he dispelled the Genjutsu cast on him.

The scene in front of him shattered like glass as he saw a forest once more, identical to the one he passed through. He looked back and saw the same dense, tall trees and looked ahead to see the same.

He narrowed his eyes and threw a kunai at one of the trees, hitting it dead centre, and yet, his eyes caught it. The slight flickering around the edge of the kunai, as it dove into the tree with nary a sound.

His instincts told him that something was off, like he was not out of the genjutsu and yet, “Kai!” “Kai!” “Kai!” disrupting his chakra three more times gave him the same result.

Looking at the kunai in his hand, he decided to trust his gut and threw the kunai at one of the trees. His eyes widened minutely as the kunai seemingly stuck something mid air, halting in place.

He jumped back two steps as it revealed a glowing barrier that then disappeared, leaving a door sized hole visible in it, surrounding the thrown Kunai. He hesitantly walked forward and stepped into the door, expecting something else, not the sound of rushing water and a lake in front of him.

Then, he flinched and had to actively stop from getting into a combat stance, as he felt someone’s gaze lock onto him. Someone dangerous. And the people his body considered dangerous were few and far between.

“Why have you come? Where is the Yondaime Hokage?” He backed a step as he looked around, looking for the source of the sound that came from seemingly everywhere. Instinctively, a kunai found itself in his hands as he looked at the lake, as the surface of it parted and a man came out of it.

He seemed malnourished, sickly thin, as if the wind itself would blow him and yet, all the hair on his body stood up in alarm. His eyes were sunken and his hair completely white, showing all markers of an exhausted vitality and yet the eyes were clear, looking at him with curious indifference.

There was no change in the man’s expression as he armed himself.

This was….unexpected.