Eternal Yujin
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TCoH—Chapter 3.33 [56]
🕑 Added 2025-02-16 15:02:41 +0000 UTC- - -
Chapter 3.33 [56]
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With the Hokage’s guard coming under the ANBU’s domestic branch, Sozen had spent three days and three nights patrolling the village and its surrounding land for signs of enemies lying in wait. His squad had captured the Ice-Release girl responsible for the Waterfall’s missing Jinchuriki. He’d frowned at how complicit she was, seeing that the last time he’d encountered her, she’d fought tooth and nail to escape his grasp.
Between bringing her in for questioning and stopping back at the headquarters, they’d heard the news of the traitorous Fourth Kazekage’s children meeting the same fate at the hands of some other squad. Of course, that meant his numbskull of a captain was overcome by zeal and had them go above and beyond.
Not that Sozen believed it was unnecessary; as weak as the Leaf currently was, and with their Hokage dead, it was entirely plausible for the traitorous Sand and Orochimaru’s Sound to double back and hit them again.
And so the initial mourning had to wait. The Village Hidden in the Leaves still mourned its Hokage. The forlorn wakes and long vigils in his name had wound down, curbed by the general destruction left in the enemy’s wake.
Sozen liked to think that the village mourned Lord Third by living as he did: unfalteringly diligent. Along the ruined streets and buildings, crowds of people—neighbours and villagers alike—worked tirelessly to fix their homes. The issue where he and his squad were concerned was a lack of work. What use was a squad of elite ANBU intended to guard the Hokage at all hours, especially given their failure?
Not all of his teammates seemed to feel the same frustration Sozen did. True, the Four Violet Flames Formation was an essentially impossible barrier to cross, but they were too slow to react. Too blinded by the prowess of the man they’d grown up seeing to acknowledge reality and by the time they realised, it was far too late.
Truthfully, Sozen loathed that Lord Third needed to warp his morals and resurrect Lady Kushina. Had the Leaf truly grown that weak? And without him, there was an undeniable power vacuum. At twenty years old, Sozen had not been alive for very long. Truthfully, the only reason he even entered the Hokage’s guard was because its previous captain—Lord Third’s son and the current Sarutobi clan head—Seiji Sarutobi had recommended him from within the ANBU four years prior around the time that he retired.
Not only that, but he had bequeathed to him his ANBU mask and codename—Saru.
Such a decision had been met with accusations of nepotism. That Seiji Sarutobi had recommended a member of his clan instead of a shinobi with merit. Driven by what was a strange amalgamation of spite and pride, Sozen proved otherwise and was rewarded by Lord Third with the opportunity to forge a pact with the Monkeys of Hell’s Valley.
Since then, Sozen had seen the things Lord Third had grappled with; observed the enemies within and without—and after a week of silence from administration, his worry at the state of the village turned to anger. He’d grown too used to the liberal flow of information Lord Third would impart to his guard—too used to feeling like he mattered in the grand scheme of things.
He’d not felt like this since he was a part of the Assault Squad in the ANBU’s foreign branch all those years ago. Worser was the fact that his teammates didn’t seem to care. He couldn’t blame some of them; they had family who were caught up in the invasion and had suddenly realised that the mortality of the shinobi life didn’t limit itself just to them.
But others were treating the silence as a holiday, oblivious that they’d earned it through their negligence in protecting their leader.
“You’re thinking too much again,” came Enzo’s voice, a deep burr. “Our sparring is of no use if you’re going to be like this, boy. I mourn Many-Paws as well, but your best service to him is getting stronger so that you do not repeat that same mistake.”
They were inside one of the sparring rooms within the ANBU headquarter’s training facility. Various wooden weapons dotted the walls, along with a basket of blunted kunai and tanto of various weights. Across from Sozen was a rack of blunted straight, single-edged blades, one of which lay splayed across his lap as he heaved in lungfuls of air and wiped the sweat from his brow.
“I know,” he said, panting. “But I… b-blame myself—knowing that I shouldn’t.”
“You are not the only one,” Enzo replied. His gleaming amber eyes caught Sozen’s gaze. “Many-Paws’ son has approached my king in search of tutelage.”
Sozen frowned—it couldn’t be Seiji since he already had forged a pact with the Monkeys. Then his eyes widened. “Asuma?”
“Of course, Lord Enma dragged him to the Pit and demanded he pay for the slight against our kind. Truly, it was a sight to behold.”
“What was the slight?”
Enzo hummed, running a hand through his hair. “I do not know the specifics—but when granted the opportunity to undergo Lord Enma’s trial as a child, Many-Hands’ second son refused the offer in a manner that enraged my king. For him to return without even acknowledging such an act demanded repayment.”
“...Not that I’m not curious, but why are you telling me this, Enzo?” he asked.
“Many-Hands’ son and Lord Enma fought and once my king’s rage abated, he asked why the boy had come to him now. His answer was because he felt an immense level of guilt and shame at his father’s death.”
“Then isn’t it a good thing?” Sozen asked.
His friend chuckled. “The difference between you and him is that guilt has consumed you—his guilt drives him. In your case, it holds your efforts to grow at the ankles and makes the climb that much harder. Let it go, Sozen. And until you do, I will not train with you—summon me to discuss, to drink, to fight against your enemies, or for my company, but I will not watch you waste your time nor will I allow you to waste mine.”
Sozen, left alone now, waited until his sweat dried and then returned home. Though he didn’t even have the luxury to ruminate on Enzo’s wisdom, nor his own feelings, because of a summons to headquarters followed by a briefing. Supposedly, the Hokage’s ANBU guard was on call to watch over a meeting between village management.
The head of the Intelligence Division, the Jonin Commander, and whoever had taken up temporary leadership until a Hokage could be decided upon. The village’s most prominent clan, the Hyuuga, was present too. Saru had a sneaking suspicion towards the identities of those responsible for the meeting, but he had no choice but to accept the summons.
If only to honour Lord Third’s memory.
The weight of his mask made his face itch. Sozen—Saru for as long as he wore his ANBU mask—kept his posture rigid, his breathing steady. Above the round table, higher than the rafters in the ceiling and concealed through the Transparency Jutsu, he and his team stood guard.
The Hokage Guard was, for the most part, listening in. Not all its members were gathered in the room; a few were posted outside the room and the building itself, waiting for a directive that wouldn’t come. There was no Hokage to issue one. Just the vague expectation that the chain of command would sort itself out before the village's enemies took further notice.
Especially given recent events.
As for himself, he had done his job. Fended off the enemy, and protected those who needed protecting. But now he stood in the same limbo as the rest of them, hovering near the walls, watching the interim leadership settle into their roles as they had never left.
Koharu Utatane, and Mitokado Mitokado. They weren’t back because of duty, Sozen knew that much, nor were they forced out of retirement. Because they possessed knowledge others didn’t, and Lord Third no longer lived to prevent them from acting as they wished, they were here. The village’s security being compromised by the Akatsuki was simply convenience. Saru was sure that they would have used Lord Third’s death to make the same move.
Though the fact remained: Itachi Uchiha, once an ANBU Captain and his fellow criminal compatriot walked the Leaf’s streets unchallenged, took on three jonin, and then vanished. He and his team stood at attention as the meeting began. The council room was colder than he remembered, but perhaps it was just the unfamiliar company.
Utatane, former head of the Intelligence Division, was the first to speak. “The lack of leadership is already being felt. As I’m sure you’re aware, Inoichi, the chain of command fractures without a singular voice to unify it.”
The blonde man seemed uncomfortable under his old superior’s gaze—whether he knew, or suspected, her motivations was a question without an answer, nor one Saru could ask.
“For now, the village holds steady, but only just,” said Shikaku Nara, drawing the two elders’ gaze. “It is in our best interests to pick the Fifth Hokage soon We cannot afford to appear weak—not to our allies, nor our enemies.”
“Then I’ll be frank.” Mitokado folded his hands in front of him. “Hiruzen’s decision to leave us out of village affairs is no longer tenable. The times demand our experience, as they always have.”
Saru didn’t miss the glance exchanged between Shikaku Nara and Inoichi Yamanaka, the subtle tension in their postures. They didn’t like this, but what choice did they have? The village needed leadership, and for the moment, it seemed the elders were the ones offering it.
The door slid open with a deliberate slowness, the wood groaning under the weight of silence. Through it entered a man Saru had only seen in a framed photograph in the ANBU Commander’s office—there and Lord Third’s photobook. Each step was accentuated by the clark of a gnarled cane; much of the man was covered by a dark robe and the little that was exposed was bandaged—all except a cross-marked scar on his chin and the left side of his face.
Saru caught the brief flicker of surprise on Mitokado’s face, the way Utatane’s fingers curled ever so slightly inward. They hadn’t expected him. That alone told him enough. The former ANBU Commander was many things—secretive, ambitious, to the point that Lord Third distanced himself from him—but he had never been called incompetent. That he was here now meant he had chosen to be.
And like his ex-teammates, he too had elected to return to power. That no one from his team had moved to apprehend him meant he had been listening and chose to deliberately delay his arrival.
Saru frowned behind his mask.
Danzo took his place at the head of the table—sat on previously by Lord Third—without preamble, hands folded neatly atop the polished surface. The single eye visible beneath his bandages sharpened as it swept across the room. “I see that we have begun without me.”
“You were… not expected,” Utatane said, voice smooth but carrying an edge.
Danzo inclined his head, whether in amusement or acknowledgement was unclear. “I imagine not.”
Silence settled again, stretched thin between the old teammates. Saru stood at attention, unmoving, but his mind turned over the implications. That moment of surprise from the elders had been brief, but it had been real—at least to him.
They had moved without him, thinking themselves in control. Danzo, however, did not strike Saru as a man easily discarded.
“The village has been left leaderless,” he said, at last, breaking the quiet. “And now, as it struggles to recover, we fossils find ourselves being called back.” His fingers tapped against the wood, rhythmically thoughtful. “Yet I cannot help but recall Hiruzen’s insistence that we enjoy our twilight years away from the village’s… darkness. I find it curious that you have decided now is the time to abandon that request, Koharu, Homura.”
Utatane’s gaze sharpened. “You know as well as we do that the situation has changed.”
“Yes,” Danzo said mildly. “And yet, I remember quite clearly when the three of us were deemed unnecessary. Unwanted.” His gaze flicked to Mitokado. “It was Hiruzen who made that decision, was it not?”
Mitokado’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The past is irrelevant. Hiruzen is, regrettably, no longer here. The village’s security takes precedence over our old disputes.”
Danzo exhaled, the sound just short of a scoff. “How fortunate that you’ve come to such a conclusion now that no one remains to challenge you.”
The three jonin around the table exchanged frowns and uncomfortable glances. The tension in the room thickened, but Danzo did not press further. He had made his point. Saru, watching, found himself distantly unsettled. The elders were not people given to sentiment, but there had always been a certain unity to them, bound by shared history. Lord Third was the glue that held them together as the years wound on, but even he had cut his losses in the end.
Now, there were fractures, no matter how subtle.
Danzo’s gaze shifted to the others in the room, measuring. “The selection of the Fifth Hokage is a delicate matter,” he continued as if the previous exchange had never happened. “I assume we are in agreement that strength is our priority?”
Shikaku, arms folded, let out a quiet sigh. “It’s one of them.”
Danzo smiled. It did not reach his eye. “My fellow elders made a unilateral decision—one we must now examine closely. They charged Jiraiya with a mission to declare Tsunade Senju as the Fifth Hokage.”
Hiashi Hyuuga shifted slightly where he stood, drawing attention without a word. When he spoke, his voice was smooth, deliberate. “Tsunade Senju has been absent from the village for years. We have no confirmation that she will even accept the title, nor that she is fit for it.”
Danzo let the statement hang in the air for a moment before he leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “And you would put forth yourself as an alternative, Lord Hyuuga?”
Hiashi didn’t nod, but he didn’t deny it either. “I believe the village would benefit from strong leadership, now more than ever. Leadership that was present during the invasion—leadership the people can sympathise with. Leadership that understands our current standing and the threats we face.”
“A fair argument,” Utatane allowed. “Though the village does talk.”
Mitokado inclined his head slightly. “Many civilians recall the absence of the various Hyuuga it has grown used to seeing during the invasion.”
Hiashi’s brow barely furrowed, but his silence was telling. Sozen had seen the Hyuuga in action. They had fought, certainly. Hiashi Hyuuga had fought himself, in fact, but they had fought primarily around their compound, securing their own—guarding their heiress, who was in critical condition following the Chunin Tournament.
Danzo, of course, twisted the blade, having found purchase thanks to the assistance of the other elders. His voice was mild, almost thoughtful. “Besides yourself, you left your most skilled kinsmen behind to guard a genin of the village. Who knows how many civilian lives could have been saved if you had simply lowered the number of those protecting your daughter?”
It was an exaggeration, but an effective one. The Hyuuga had not abandoned the village, but they had chosen to prioritise their own. In the eyes of the people, that distinction would blur, given the right framing.
“Are you implying that the Hyuuga are cowards, Lord Shimura?” Hiashi asked with a warning edge in his voice.
“Simply making an observation,” Danzo replied. “None can deny you have the accolades befitting of the title of Hokage, but I believe we’re all in agreement that the village requires a Hokage that is willing to fight. Yet when your daughter was kidnapped by the Cloud, you sacrificed your brother, Jonin Hizashi Hyuuga, instead of fighting. And in these dire times, jonin are in short supply.”
And in times like these, the people cared little for facts. Hiashi did not rise to the bait. His expression remained unreadable, but the damage had been done. The conversation shifted, the momentum moving past him.
The silence that followed was short-lived. The conversation shifted back to Tsunade Senju, her suitability for the title of Hokage once more under scrutiny. Mitokado and Utatane had supported Danzo in undermining Hiashi’s candidacy, but now their measured glances suggested they had done so under the assumption that Danzo also supported Tsunade as Hokage.
Danzo, however, was not so easily read.
“You spoke of leadership that understands our current standing, Lord Hyuuga,” he said smoothly as if the last few minutes had never occurred. “And you are correct to emphasise it. The village needs stability, strength, and above all, reliability. Which is why I find it… perplexing that so many have placed their faith in Tsunade Senju.”
Mitokado’s expression darkened. “She is the last of the Sannin. The people recognise her name.”
Danzo inclined his head slightly, though whether it was in acknowledgement or mild amusement, Saru couldn’t tell. “Indeed. A name is a powerful thing. And yet, when the village bled, when our enemies gathered at our gates, where was she, of one of our founding clans?” He did not raise his voice, but the words carried weight. “Absent. The same can be said of the years prior. She has no recent experience leading men, no involvement in village affairs, and as far as anyone is aware, no inclination to return.”
“She will return,” Utatane said, voice clipped. “Jiraiya is personally seeking her out with the village’s commandment.”
“Our commandment, is it?” Danzo’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the polished table. “And if she refuses?”
Neither elder answered immediately. The room’s attention was now on them, and Saru caught the flicker of irritation in their expressions. Danzo had turned their own manoeuvre against them, muddying the waters they had tried to clear.
“We have little reason to believe she will,” Mitokado said at last, though his voice was tighter now. “She is a Senju. She would not abandon her home—nor would she spurn her teacher’s life.”
Danzo exhaled, the sound just short of amusement. “Would she not? Where was she during the funeral, then?”
The elders stiffened, but before they could press back, Mitokado shifted his angle of attack. “The same might be said of you, Danzo,” he said. “You speak of leadership and the village’s security, but need I remind you of why you were pushed from its management?”
Danzo did not react—not outwardly—but Saru caught the way his fingers stilled against the table. The mood of the room shifted, tension winding through the air. It was an accusation unspoken for years, now brought to light before the village’s current leadership.
“Your personal ANBU force operated outside of the chain of command,” Utatane continued. “It was deemed excessive and dangerous, and Hiruzen, in his wisdom, saw fit to remove you.”
If they had hoped to corner him, they failed. Danzo did not deflect, nor deny it. Instead, he exhaled, nodded once, and said, “Yes. You are right on all counts, Homura.”
The room went still. Saru felt a prickle of something he could not name.
Danzo clasped his hands together. “I will not pretend otherwise. I built my own forces. I trained them to act where others hesitated. To make the difficult choices, to prioritise the village above all else.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sweeping across the table. “And in the chaos of the invasion, where did you find them?”
No one answered. They all knew. ROOT operatives had been seen during the Sand and Sound’s attack. Rumours among the ANBU spread that they had struck where the village’s defences faltered and had stemmed breaches before the enemy could capitalise on them. Saru himself had seen glimpses of them in action—silent, efficient, and utterly merciless.
No words were spoken and each of them linked through what looked from the outside like a kind of hivemind.
Danzo let the silence drag before continuing. “Even without orders, even with their existence erased from the record, they acted. They fought, bled, and died for this village.” His fingers tapped once against the wood. “Would you have preferred they did not?”
Mitokado’s lips pressed into a thin line. Utatane’s expression was unreadable. Around the table, the other jonin leaders exchanged glances, Shikaku Nara’s was thoughtful, and Hiashi Hyuuga’s wary. Danzo had revealed his hand, but he had done so with precision. He had admitted the very thing that had exiled him from influence, but in doing so, he had reframed it.
His operatives were no longer remnants of a disbanded, illicit force—they were unsung protectors.
With that, Danzo shifted the line of conversation once more. “We waste time on old disputes. The invasion is over, but another threat has already made itself known.” His gaze flicked up briefly to Saru and his fellow ANBU before returning to the others. “The Akatsuki.”
At the name of the more recent enemy, the room grew heavier. The attack had rattled the village administration, who were already licking their wounds from the attempted invasion. Yet a mere week after it, Itachi Uchiha and his partner had walked into the village, engaged multiple jonin, and left without a trace.
“I am familiar with the origins of their organisation,” Danzo said, tone measured, “And though their goals remain unclear, one fact is certain: they are no longer content to remain in the shadows.”
The elders let him take the lead—or rather, Danzo had wrenched it out of their hands. Whatever wary balance had been struck between the three jonin and the elders had been overturned in a handful of minutes. Even they—by all accounts his equals—could not claim greater knowledge where the Akatsuki were concerned.
Saru remained at attention, watching, and listening, as per his role. But his mind kept pace with every turn of the discussion, noting each manipulation at play. This was the new order of things, at least for now.
And he was caught in the middle of it, unsure where his loyalties lay.
———————————
Kakashi found Asuma where he expected him to be.
The sky was overcast, a dull grey pressing low over the village, but the air held no real chill. The memorial stone stood solemn and unyielding, slick with the previous night’s rain, reflecting back the muted shapes of the trees surrounding them. Asuma exhaled, pulling the cigarette from his mouth, and stared down at the names etched into stone.
“I see you’re stealing my spot,” he said, voice dry but not unkind.
Kakashi stepped forward, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I figured you wouldn’t mind the company.”
Asuma hummed, tapping his cigarette against his fingers. Ash fluttered to the ground, vanishing into damp earth. “Not at all.”
For a while, neither of them spoke. The village beyond carried on, distant but present—the rustle of leaves, the faint voices of shinobi passing through the training fields, the soft patter of a light breeze against the treetops. It was peaceful, in a way that neither of them trusted.
“Kurenai’s stable,” Asuma finally said, breaking the silence. He didn’t look at Kakashi, just kept his eyes on the stone. “The medics say she’s physically fine, but…” He trailed off, exhaling another slow stream of smoke.
But the wounds she’d suffered weren't physical.
"She’s strong," Kakashi offered. "Lord Jiraiya is bringing back Lady Tsunade to become the Fifth Hokage."
Asuma scoffed lightly, a tired sound.
Kakashi tilted his head slightly. “You don’t think she’ll take the hat?”
“Would you?” Asuma rolled the cigarette between his fingers, gaze still fixed on the stone. “Losing people to the damn thing will change you. Sometimes, you find a way forward. Other times…”
Kakashi let the words settle, watching the slow curl of smoke dissipate into the damp air. He thought of Jiraiya, the way the Sannin had hesitated before leaving, as if the weight of the village pressed just a little heavier on his shoulders.
Thought of Tsunade, a woman he barely remembered.
“Maybe she’ll surprise you,” he said at last.
He scoffed. “Remember, I grew up with the Sannin around. They were my dad’s students and except Orochimaru, I was pretty close to them.”
“I don’t think Orochimaru’s close to anyone,” Kakashi pointed out, quickly moving to diffuse the anger thickening in Asuma’s voice at the mention of his father’s killer.
“Tsunade loved the village, loved the people in it, and wanted to make her grandfather and granduncle proud. But you should’ve seen her after the war—after she lost her boyfriend and little brother. She was never the same—and to be honest I’m happy for her.”
Kakashi started. “...Why?”
“She got out. Left the village and all its demands to sacrifice herself on their altar. Besides, I think Lord Shimura is the better option for leading us anyway. He’s decisive, spares no effort for the village’s betterment, and it was thanks to him that the death toll didn’t shoot up to the moon.”
Kakashi blinked slowly—he’d only known Asuma from a distance until earlier this year, but even then, the man hadn’t struck him as one of Danzo’s supporters. Though given the animosity between him and his father these past few years… it wasn’t out of the question.
Was Danzo making his move on Naruto through Asuma? As far-fetched as it sounded—including the ample opportunity given Naruto and Asuma’s years-long relationship—Kakashi would not put it past Danzo Shimura.
But right now, Asuma wasn’t in the best of places, mentally, so he’d have to make sure not to come on too strong.
“Don’t take this the wrong way… but you understand your father pushed him out of village management and there was probably a reason for it.”
“Maybe there was,” Asuma said with a shrug. “As much as I loved him, my father’s decisions as a leader weren’t unquestionable.”
“...Lord Shimura isn’t exactly as much of a solution as you think he is either,” he replied. “Believe me there. I’ve had experiences with him that would cast a long shadow over any good he’s done…”
Asuma stared at him for a long moment. “In any case, he’s a much better option than Tsunade Senju, who’s not been seen for years.” He took another drag, exhaled, and then, voice quieter, added, “Either way, I hope she gets here in time.”
They didn’t need to say what for.
Kurenai. The village. The slow, creeping feeling that everything was shifting too fast for them to hold onto. Kakashi glanced down at the names carved into the stone. Some he knew. Some he didn’t. He wondered if Itachi had looked at the memorial during his visit. If his gaze had lingered on his clan’s name, or if he had simply walked away without a second glance.
Asuma shifted, dragging a hand through his hair. “You ever feel like you’re falling behind?”
“You’ll have to be more specific.” Kakashi’s fingers twitched in his pockets. He let out a slow breath.
Asuma laughed, a dry, weary sound. “Yeah. Figured.” He took another long drag of his cigarette, then exhaled sharply. “I still feel like crap over that traitorous bastard. I knew they were strong, but it was three against two.”
Kakashi didn’t answer right away. The fight had been fast. Kurenai hadn’t even had time to react before her world shattered around her. Kakashi had barely managed to push back Kisame, who’d had him tied up while Itachi moved on to Asuma and Kurenai. Even then, he knew that if Itachi had truly wanted to kill them, they wouldn’t be standing here now.
He wondered if Asuma thought about that, too.
“We weren’t ready,” he said at last.
Asuma let out a sharp breath. “We weren’t even close.” His jaw tightened, eyes dark. “And the worst part? I could tell he was holding back. They weren’t here to kill us.”
They fell into silence again. Somewhere in the distance, a bird let out a high wail.
Asuma stubbed out his cigarette against the stone base, rubbing at his face. “You know, it was getting better,” he murmured, almost too quiet to hear.
Kakashi glanced at him. “What was?”
Asuma’s fingers curled slightly before he flexed them out. “Me and my old man.” He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “We’d stopped fighting all the time. Had dinner together. Talked. And then…” His throat bobbed. “And then he was gone.”
Kakashi thought of his own father, of a quiet house and a blade soaked in red. He thought of Sasuke, a boy who had left behind everything to chase the shadow responsible for murdering his parents.
And then, before he could stop himself, he said, “It doesn’t stop mattering just because they’re gone.”
Asuma went still.
Kakashi kept his gaze on the memorial. “It’s easy to think that whatever they thought of you is frozen in time, and you’ll never be more than that.” He tilted his head slightly. “But maybe that’s not true.”
Asuma was quiet for a long time. Then, finally, he let out a breath—something deep and tired and just a little bit lighter. “Maybe. So… how are your students? Sure, you didn’t get two chunin like I did, but one promotion is still pretty good.”
He controlled the frown behind his mask. “You ever get the feeling that—” He hesitated, then shook his head. “Never mind.”
Asuma tilted his head slightly. “That what?”
Kakashi hesitated again, then let out a short laugh, though there was no real humour in it. “That no matter how hard you try, you’re just... not enough?” He exhaled. “That they deserve better than you?”
“...Yes, but your Uchiha was promoted, right? Doesn’t that mean you did right by him?”
Kakashi’s gaze flickered over the names on the memorial stone. “...You know, I’m not so sure I did.”
Had he not once been an ANBU operative, he would have never discovered that Sasuke entered the ANBU. The boy hadn’t seen fit to disclose that information—Kakashi had only found out when Yamato turned up at his doorstep with a congratulatory bottle and a promise to look out for him.
Sasuke had taken his own path, and Kakashi hadn’t even had the chance to try and stop him. Not that it would have changed anything. He could’ve said all the right things, and done everything differently, and Sasuke still would’ve made the same choice.
So many times Kakashi took note of the displeasure on his face at their training being cut short. Observed a blatant disregard for his health if it guaranteed more strength.
“Naruto’s growing fast,” Asuma said after a long moment. “Too fast, really. Sure, I can put him in charge of the team and send them on missions without me, but… he doesn’t need me anymore.”
“That’s not true,” Kakashi said. “He’s strong, sure, and has more potential that you may know what to do with, but you’ve got things to pass on, don’t you?”
“He’s got access to training I can’t provide, knowledge I can’t pass on. He’s going to surpass me one day, and—I want that for him. But it still... stings.”
“The surpassing?”
Asuma shook his head. “The… uselessness, if that makes sense?”
Kakashi understood the feeling all too well but didn’t trust himself to say anything immediately. “I used to think if I just kept pushing, I’d be able to reach him,” Kakashi admitted. “But maybe I was never even close.”
Asuma glanced at him. “Sasuke?”
Kakashi gave a slight nod.
“You know, I was the same way… with my old man. Wouldn’t listen. Too stubborn for my own good and I always thought I knew better. Even when I was obviously wrong.”
Kakashi glanced at him, not trusting himself to disturb whatever revelation his friend was on the edge of divulging.
“I resented him,” Asuma said, blunt but not bitter. “For a long time, I thought he put the village before me. And when my mother died, I said he put the village before her too. Before everything that should’ve mattered more. I wanted nothing to do with him. Then things started changing. He started trying more. And I let myself believe we still had time.” He paused, then, quietly, “We were having family dinners again. For the first time in years, it felt like we were actually getting somewhere. And then—”
Kakashi didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.
“I don’t know what’s worse, Kakashi,” he admitted. “Thinking I had time or knowing I didn’t. If I knew, I could’ve done things differently.”
The wind stirred the leaves, rustling through the clearing.
“I want to get stronger,” Asuma said, breaking the silence. His voice was quieter this time, but no less firm. “I need to. If I had been just a little bit stronger, maybe Kurenai wouldn’t—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “No. Doesn’t matter. I just need to be better than I am now.”
Kakashi opened his eye again, studying him for a moment. Then he gave the barest nod. Asuma flicked the cigarette away, stamping it out beneath his heel.
And together, they left the memorial behind.
———————————
Jiraiya was in our shared bedroom when I woke up; he wasn’t when I went to sleep. Given the benefit of the doubt, I thought he was out gathering intel in brothels and pubs—or even the local inn. But when I got up the next day, I saw a half-empty bottle of alcohol on the nightstand separating our two beds.
Beyond it was the grey-haired man, too tall for the bed, and still dressed in his outwear, including his metal faceguard. After washing up for the morning and making my bed, I stood over him, and without an ounce of shame, infused enough chakra to shoot out a slightly pressured blast of water out of my mouth.
Jiraiya sputtered awake with a choking sound, jerking upright and swiping at his face. His hand came away damp, blinking blearily at me like a man dragged out of a deep dream.
His voice was hoarse, roughened by sleep and alcohol.
I crossed my arms. “You reek.”
“Ugh..” He groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You ever hear of waking someone up gently?”
“You ever hear of actually using the covers instead of passing out in your gear like some washed-up mercenary?”
Jiraiya sighed, tilting his head back against the bed frame. “...Kid, it’s too early for lectures.”
“I dunno.” I arched an eyebrow. “I’m more than ready to listen to one. You gonna teach me anything while we’re here, or are you going to spend however long we have face-deep in a bottle?”
That got a pause. A flicker passed across his face, too quick to catch, before he shook his head and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He hunched forward, elbows braced on his knees, rubbing at his temples.
“You okay?”
“Long night,” he muttered.
I didn’t sit down. “What’s wrong?”
Jiraiya didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched, filled with the distant sound of the street below—vendors setting up shop, the occasional murmur of passing voices and the murmurs through the thin walls.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” he said eventually.
I exhaled through my nose, though it only earned me a lopsided smirk.
He chuckled, but it was dry. “Guess you’ve been around me long enough for that reaction.”
I didn’t argue. I just waited. Jiraiya rolled his shoulders, joints popping in protest. He still hadn’t taken off his metal forehead protector, as if he hadn’t really settled in at all.
“You ever get the feeling,” he said, slowly, “that you’re running out of time?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He waved a hand vaguely. “The world. People. Promises. Feels like the days keep getting shorter, and no matter what you do, you’re still playing catch-up.”
My frown morphed into a thin smile. “...It’s called old age—get used to it, you lecher. Go and settle down; you’ve lived the bachelor’s life long enough.”
Jiraiya snorted before his expression solidified. “...Maybe.” He let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hell if I know what to do about it.”
That wasn’t true. He did know. He just didn’t want to say it—but I was more than willing to. I sat down on the edge of my bed, arms resting on my knees. “It’s Tsunade Senju, isn’t it?”
Jiraiya sighed. “...Yeah.”
“You don’t think she’ll take the hat?”
Another sigh, this one quieter. “I don’t know.”
I was quiet for a moment. “But you hope she does.”
“Yeah, kid. I really do.” Jiraiya let out a chuckle, but it was frayed at the edges. Before I could respond, he shot up, adjusting his lopsided faceguard to reveal the dried saliva on his face.
“...Well, before any of that, you might want to wash your face,” I said.
He frowned. “Smartass.”
We made our way downstairs to the inn’s dining area. Morning light filtered in through fogged-up windows, casting a dull glow over wooden tables and worn tatami mats. The air smelled of miso, grilled fish, and the faint bitterness of cheap tea.
Jiraiya walked ahead, his stride looser, even if he didn’t say much as we sat down. He only grunted as he waved for the innkeeper to bring us whatever they were offering for breakfast. I didn’t bother filling the silence, just watched as he slowly woke up. As the place filled with more people, a few regulars recognised him—supposedly from the night before.
Some greeted him in passing, others stopped by to chat—laughing about half-remembered conversations and embarrassing faux pas spun over too many drinks. Jiraiya played along effortlessly. He knew their name, recalled jokes, and talked like a man who had all the time in the world to spend on them.
Like none of this was calculated—and maybe it wasn’t. I just listened, eating in silence as I watched the way he moved through the room with an ease that made people lean in without realising before introducing themselves.
It wasn’t like how I’d seen other people do it—smarmy merchants, snake-tongued nobles, shinobi with smiles sharp enough to cut.
Jiraiya didn’t try to be liked; he just was. By the time breakfast was done, he looked… lighter. Not by much, but enough to be noticeable. Then, without warning, he clapped his hands together and pushed off from the table, stretching his arms overhead.
“Alright, kid. Ask, and you shall receive.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Jiraiya grinned, already walking off. “You wanted me to teach you something, right? Well, since you were kind enough to fund my fun for the evening through your win against Tsunade, I figured I’d give you something good.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That sounds suspiciously like you’re buttering me up to fund subsequent evenings.”
He laughed. “Just shut up and follow me.”
I rolled my eyes but stood anyway, trailing after him. When we were far enough outside the boundary of the town, surrounded by nothing except flatland, he pulled the massive scroll off his back and tossed it over.
I caught it and unfurled it. “You want me to sign a summoning in blood?”
Jiraiya smirked. “You want me to teach you or not?”
I exhaled through my nose. “Fine.” Cutting the tip of my finger on a kunai, my eyes brushed over the inked names, over the dried blood of past summoners. Then I smiled. “Just you and my old man, huh?”
“I don’t like that look.” Jiraiya snorted. “Are you trying to summon the Toad Chief? If so, you might want to pour as much chakra as you can into the jutsu. The signs are Boar, Dog, Bird, Monkey, and Ram.”
I rolled my shoulders. “Something like that, anyway.”
Forming the seals, I slammed my hand to the ground—already visualising the outcome as I wrangled the chakra I’d infused in my gut. The toad I wanted to summon likely required a lot of chakra—but that would only lead to summoning a massive toad like Gamabunta. Less chakra would only summon a weaker toad.
But if I compressed a massive amount of chakra?
The seal flared to life beneath my palm, inked lines crawling outward in twisting spirals. A burst of smoke exploded from the ground, thick and rolling, kicking up dust and rattling the grass while air crackled with lingering chakra.
Jiraiya coughed, waving a hand in front of his face. I ignored him, squinting through the dissipating smoke. I could feel the weight of a summon on the other end enough to tell that wasn’t a tiny tadpole either.
Then, I heard a voice. “Well, ain’t this a fine mess.”
The smoke cleared, revealing a squat, wrinkled, green-skinned toad with pale green skin wearing a short-sleeved haori. That he had hair was the most startling detail, and I blinked slightly owlishly as his eyes flicked over to me, then to Jiraiya.
Jiraiya stared. Blinked once. Stared again. “What,” he said flatly, “the hell is he doing here?”
I frowned. “Uh. Who’s he?”
The toad snorted. “‘Who’s he?’, he says.” His gaze flicked back to Jiraiya. “This your latest apprentice, Jiraiya-boy”
Jiraiya groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Kid, what have you done.”
“What?” I shot back. “You wanted me to summon a toad. I summoned a toad.”
“Not this one!”
The old toad scoffed. “Hmph. Not my fault the brat had the brains to pull it off.” He rubbed his chin, giving me a once-over. “Didn’t think ya had it in ya, kid, but considering who your old man is, it’s not a surprise.”
Jiraiya pointed at him. “I didn’t think he even knew who you were. How’d you summon him?”
The toad—Fukasaku—chuckled, low and raspy. “A damn good sense of chakra control, probably, but tell us.”
“Mixing a ton of chakra and making the seals would probably just summon a massive toad, right? But if I used too little, I’d either get a tadpole or a small toad.” I crossed my arms and smiled. “I just wanted to know if something interesting would happen if I took a large amount of chakra and squeezed it down—and apparently it summons an old toad.”
Jiraiya looked torn between being impressed and deeply, deeply exasperated. “That’s not the point, you brat.”
I shrugged.
Fukasaku grinned, wide and knowing. “Means you just stumbled into something real interesting, kid. Jiraiya-boy, you know Shima has been waiting on your promise to visit for a meal right?”
“Why don’t you just reverse-summon him?” I asked to both of their surprise.
“...How do you even know what that is?” Jiraiya asked.
“I read a lot.”
Fukasaku hopped onto my shoulder, strangely heavy for his size. He croaked beside my ear, “Keep going and you might become Shima’s favourite, kid.”
“Who’s ahead of me right now?” I asked.
“Your father.”
“...They’re getting along.” Jiraiya sighed heavily, muttering something else under his breath. Then, finally, he ran a hand through his hair and groaned, “Great. Just great.”
Fukasaku chuckled again, clearly enjoying himself. “Well, best get to it then. What’s your name, boy?”
“Naruto Uzumaki, sir,” I replied.
“Why don’t you summon the toad,” Fukasaku said.
“For?”
Jiraiya exhaled through his nose, already looking like he regretted every decision that had led to this moment. “To reverse-summon us back when it’s time to leave Mt. Myoboku.” He jabbed a finger at me to accentuate his point.
“No promises,” I said with a wry smile as I repeated the earlier process to summon a generally small toad. This one was bright red with kanji splayed across its back. Once the smoke cleared completely, I noted the tiny goggles hanging around its neck.
“Elder Fukasaku!” the toad said with a smile on its face.
“Good to see you, Kosuke,” the elder toad replied.
“Is this boy a new summoner?”
Fukasaku gave a short croak of laughter at the excitement in his voice. “Indeed. Reverse-summon these two in say… two or three hours, alright?”
“Aye, sir!” Kosuke gave a little salute. “The summoning’s got enough chakra to let me run about all day!”
Fukasaku vanished in a plume of smoke, leaving the two of us alone with the strangely cheerful crimson toad. His slitted yellow eyes turned to us, but before he could say a word, the world lurched. One moment, I was standing on solid ground, feeling pretty good about myself. The next, I was in a completely different place—and my stomach did not approve.
The smell of fresh rain and damp stone hit me first. Then, the overwhelming croaks of what had to be a thousand toads at once. I staggered slightly, taking in the massive rock formations, the scattered pools of water, the air that hummed with a strange, thick energy.
“Huh.” I crossed my arms, mostly to keep my breakfast in me. “Cool place.”
Jiraiya grunted in agreement, only slightly green around the edges. “Welcome to Mount Myoboku.”
“Oi!” A new voice cut in.
I turned to see another toad hopping towards us. This one had an apron on, looked about as old as Fukasaku along with tight purple curls for hair and was waving around a ladle as she approached.
There was something deeply concerning about the sight.
“Fukasaku, you old coot!” the toad yelled, shaking a wooden spoon at him. “What took you so long? Dinner’s almost cold!”
“Shima, dear,” Fukasaku greeted “I brought a guest.” He hopped onto my shoulder once more and gestured to me.
Shima turned her eyes on me, scrutinising. “You’re Minato-boy’s brat, ain’t ya?”
“Yeah,” I said warily. “Naruto Uzumaki.”
She hummed, nodding to herself. “Hmph. Hope you eat better than he did. Too damn polite, that one. Never asked for seconds.”
Jiraiya rubbed his temple. “Before that, I’ve got to introduce him to Bunta… otherwise there’ll be hell to pay later.” He cracked his neck, already walking ahead. “Alright, brat, let’s get the formalities out of the way. Time to meet the boss.”
I followed with my hands in my pockets, surveying the massive landscape of Mount Myoboku. The towering rock formations and misty pools stretched endlessly, filled with the croaks of unseen toads. Before I could dwell on it, the ground trembled beneath me. A shadow loomed overhead. I tilted my head up just in time to see an enormous toad perched on a rocky outcrop, pipe clamped between his jaws.
“Tch. What the hell is this, Jiraiya?” The Toad Boss’s gravelly voice rumbled through the clearing. “I hear you're in town only to be dragged out to meet a brat? Have your years of whoring finally fucked you over? ”
I met his gaze and shrugged. “To be fair, I didn’t exactly drag you anywhere. You were already here.”
Gamabunta stilled. Jiraiya palmed his face.
“Oh, great,” a gigantic red toad muttered quietly, lumbering next to a blue one with twin swords across his back. The massive toads flanked their leader, each eyeing me sceptically. “The kid’s got a mouth on him.”
“Gotta admit,” the blue one rumbled. “Takes guts to backtalk the Chief.”
“Or sheer stupidity,” Gamabunta drawled. He exhaled a long plume of smoke. “You really expect me to accept this runt as my underling, Jiraiya?”
“That runt,” Jiraiya said, “beat Tsunade in a fight.”
A slow, creeping grin stretched across Gamabunta’s massive face. Gamaken and Gamahiro blinked in unison.
“No shit?” Gamabunta finally said.
Jiraiya grinned. “No shit.”
“Well, well,” the Chief Toad mused, eyeing me anew. “Maybe you’re not just some punk after all.”
“Never was,” I replied, crossing my arms. “You just assumed.”
Gamabunta barked out a laugh. “Cocky little bastard. I like it. Alright, kid, let’s make this official. We drink!”
One of the smaller toads scurried forward, holding up a saucer that was so absurdly large it might as well have been a plate. The scent of saké hit my nose immediately. I took the cup, met Gamabunta’s knowing gaze, and drank from it for over half an hour.
It burned, but I’d be damned if I coughed in front of them.
Once I was done, the warrior toads erupted into cheers, slamming their massive cups together.
“Welcome to the family, kid!” the red toad from earlier declared. “I'm Gamaken—the swordsman next to me is Gamahiro. That's our boss, Gamabunta.”
Gamabunta smirked. “You’re my underling now, Naruto Uzumaki. Try not to embarrass me.”
“No promises,” I replied, smiling.
“Alright, alright,” Jiraiya waved them off, guiding me away. “You got your acceptance. Now let’s go make good on our promise to Shima before she hunts me down.”
We headed back to the main part of Mount Myoboku, where Shima had laid out a feast. The second I sat down, she fixed me with a beady-eyed stare.
“Hope you eat better than your old man, boy.”
Not wanting to disappoint, I grabbed the first bowl in front of me and dug in—and when I did, I regretted every decision that had led me to this moment. The taste was… horrifying. Some unholy combination of slop fermented something-or-other, and the distinct crunch of what had to be an insect. I chewed. I swallowed and maintained eye contact with my companion in suffering.
Jiraiya looked one bowl away from death.
“This is great,” I forced out.
Shima beamed. “Oh, good! Here, have another helping.”
“Thanks,” I said, trying to ignore the sound of Jiraiya quietly dying next to me.
By the time we were finished, my stomach was rebelling, my vision was swimming, and my dignity was barely intact. I sat sort of shell-shocked as Shima patted my head fondly.
“You come back soon, boy,” she said. “You’re my new favourite.”
“That’s an honour,” I replied weakly.
When Kosuke finally reverse-summoned us back, the world lurched violently. My stomach, already furious, decided it had had enough. I barely managed to hold everything down as I staggered back onto solid ground.
Jiraiya groaned beside me. “I hate this part.”
I took a deep breath, straightened, and dusted myself off.
“Alright,” I said, regaining my composure. “Time to collect my winnings from Tsunade.”
Jiraiya stared.
“Kid, we just got back.”
“Yeah, and?”
He exhaled through his nose, already walking ahead. “You know what? Fine. You go grab your necklace; I need a drink. Let’s just go before my stomach catches up with me.”
I smirked, trailing after him. “Try not to puke before we get there, old man.”
We went our separate ways once we hit the town. It wasn’t that late afternoon yet, but I was sure he’d find someone to drink with anyway. Locating Tsunade and Shizune’s lodging wasn’t all that difficult, though I’d had to run after Jiraiya to find out and nearly threw up because of it.
As for their lodging, it wasn’t much to look at, but then again, neither was ours. The floor creaked as I stepped inside, the air thick with the faint scent of sake and something medicinal underneath. A window was open, letting in the morning chill, the curtains barely stirring. On the table, a pile of bandages sat beside an uncorked bottle, a cup half-full next to it. I didn’t need to look to know the drink wasn’t water.
Shizune greeted me with a tired nod, already halfway through wrapping Tsunade’s hand in fresh gauze. I hadn’t seen it since yesterday when I drove a Rasengan straight into her fist. Even now, the skin underneath was pale and stretched too thin, the fingers slightly stiff as they curled inward, unsteady.
That she hadn’t healed it fully by now spoke volumes of how out of shape she was.
Shizune tied off the last bandage with a firm tug before standing, brushing her hands off. She looked between us, then exhaled. “I’ll give you two some time,” she murmured before slipping past me toward the door.
It clicked shut behind her. “Came to grab my winnings before we head out,” I said, mostly to break the silence.
Tsunade barely looked at me. “Do what you want.”
She flexed her injured hand, the motion slow and deliberate. I waited for her to say something more, but she only picked up the sake cup, drinking in one measured gulp before setting it back down with a quiet clink.
I sighed. “So, the necklace. What’s the deal with it?”
That, at least, got a reaction. Her fingers brushed over the chain now hanging around her neck, tracing the faint shine of the gemstone before she tossed it at me and leaned back in her chair. “It belonged to my grandfather,” she said, voice unreadable.
I felt the weight of the emerald gem against my collarbone as I tied it behind my neck.
Tsunade gave a slow nod. “I used to believe it was lucky,” she said after a pause. “Maybe that’s why I kept betting with it, hoping it’d break the streak.”
I tilted my head. “And?”
Her lips curled, not quite a smile. “Didn’t work as I expected it.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I kept quiet. I shifted my stance, crossing my arms. “You talk about it like it’s cursed.”
She scoffed, lifting the sake bottle to pour another drink. “And you think the village isn’t?”
That caught me off guard. “What?”
Tsunade swirled the liquid in her cup and stared at the wall. “The village takes. It takes and takes and takes, and it doesn’t care how much you bleed for it or who you lose for it.” She set the cup down again, this time without drinking. “I watched my grand-uncle develop it, watched my sense fight for it. And for what? The strongest ones fall first.”
I swallowed. “That’s not—”
“Not what?” she interrupted, eyes flicking to me now, sharp and golden in the morning light. “Not how it’s supposed to be? Not how you see it?”
I clenched my jaw. “It wasn’t kind to me either,” I admitted. “But it’s where the people I care about live—and that makes it home, not some illustrious history.”
She exhaled through her nose. “Then you’ll learn.”
The quiet settled in, pressing heavy against my ribs. I wasn’t stupid—I knew what she meant. Knew that she was talking from a lifetime of watching the people she loved die for something that never seemed to love them back.
And she wasn’t wrong. I just wasn’t sure I agreed with what she was saying either. I let the silence stretch before finally meeting her gaze again. “So, what? You’re certain that you want to leave what’s left of your family’s legacy in the hands of Danzo?”
Tsunade tilted her head slightly, not answering.
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. “Why?”
She laughed, but there was no humour in it. “Because I’m not stupid. Out here, my life’s my own to live.”
I scowled. “Is it?”
She arched a brow. “You tell me.”
I opened my mouth, then shut it again.
Danzo. The name alone sent a bad taste creeping up my throat. If he became Hokage, things wouldn’t just stay the same. They’d change. For better or worse, I couldn’t say. But I did know the people I cared about would be the ones holding those consequences. Kakashi. Asuma. My friends, my self-proclaimed students. Even people like Teuchi, Karin, and Ayame, who had nothing to do with the shinobi life, would be caught in the ripples anyway.
I frowned, gripping the edge of the table. “You’re the best option for them.”
Tsunade’s gaze didn’t waver. “If that’s the case, then the village is fucked beyond belief.” She exhaled, shaking her head. “Kid, you don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me.”
She stared at me for a long moment. Then, finally, she reached for the bottle, pouring herself another drink. Her hand trembled slightly. “You’re young,” she muttered. “And you still believe it’s worth saving. My advice? Take everyone you care about and leave, before the village takes them from you.”
My stomach twisted. “Not an option. You know who my father is. What I am. If I leave the Land of Fire’s borders, my life will go in one of two directions: either my father’s enemies take revenge on me, or someone rips the Nine-Tails out of me. So, what advice do you have that isn’t “run away?”
She didn’t answer.
Something cold curled at the base of my spine. I wanted to argue, push, or yell at her, but suddenly, I couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing I said would matter. She’d made up her mind.
“Maybe Danzo is the better option after all.”
Tsunade didn’t react; she just lifted her cup and drank deeply.
I turned and left without another word.
- - -
Comments
Eternal Yujin
Timing is a very important thing as well as the context. Hiruzen is dead, the village is sort of in shambles. The proposed Hokage candidate is at this point a name whose face has not been since since the end of the third war. But you are totally right. Gotta love Danzo, huh?
TensorOperator
Danzo's argument for having his private fighting force is that they helped during the invasion. The implicit alternative is that these ninja wouldn't be fighting if not for him, but that is false. They would most likely be ninja of the Leaf and they would help repeal the invasion, but under Hokage's command, not his.
Xardas2995
Honestly, aside from some good maneuvering during the invasion, I think Danzo profits the most from the lack of suitable competitors for the hat. In the show he just did not exist as a character yet I think. However, how Tsunade ended up becoming Hokage after abandoning the village in the show was some shonen/fairytale stuff. Counting on the protagonist’s talk no jutsu to convince her makes no sense. The whole succession topic was never tried to be solved properly when Konoha had time. The talk between Kakashi and Asuma was nice. So Itachi and Kisame still showed up, but Kurenai got hit by Itachi’s Mangekyou. These are some heavy punches Asuma is receiving right now. First his father, now Kurenai. I hope Asuma and Kakashi develop themselves. Especially Kakashi’s power level progression makes not much sense. I dislike the easy explanation of Sharingan draining too much chakra. Basically turned something that he is famed for and was introduced as a huge advantage in battle in a big handicap. I like the explanation more that after the war and Kyuubi attack, many shinobi became complacent because they were tired of war and there was no immediate threat on the horizon to force them to keep growing. For most of the time shinobi improved on the battlefield and always with the next battle on the horizon. I feel we kinda saw that with Asuma in Arc 2. Shinobi life seemed to have turned into something mundane for him which can be true if you are a Jonin and there is no war, so not much high level combat. And again more foreshadowing on Naruto’s skill set. I would really love to see him fight Asuma again. Despite what we saw during the invasion and his fight with Kabuto it remains difficult for me to assess the SI. If we look at Asumas skill set he seems to mainly rely on taijutsu, bukijutsu and elemental ninjutsu. In the first two fields the question would be e whether he has any more technique to teach Naruto or not. Main things hindering the SI here is just lack of body growth for physical strength, speed and reach of limbs. Nothing that can be taught and will fix itself with time. In the ninjutsu department Asuma we saw him use Great Vacuum Sphere against Zabuza. At the moment Naruto still lacks B rank elemental ninjutsu. However, the question is how difficult it is for Naruto to get this down now. Asuma has commented on the SIs skill on multiple occasions like his Great Breakthrough during the bear hunt. Another example is when he first tried his wind chakra enhancement. It did not appear to me that Asuma ever thought of trying something like this. It is also unclear how much Asuma knows of fundamentals like the meaning of hand signs that Hiruzen taught Naruto. Asuma has to have some skill with chakra enhancement since he was able to teach it to Naruto, but it seems to me that Naruto has already surpassed him there. Main things hindering the slowing him down is not having a grown body. Till now we have also seen no indication that Asuma has mastered any kind of A rank jutsu while Naruto mastered the rasengan. We also do not really know how good Asuma is with fire release and the SI will not learn that soon anyway. Overall, I agree with Asuma’s assessment. There is perhaps some wind release stuff left he could teach Naruto, but that well will run dry fast. With Jiraiya and prospectively Danzo he is also correct that Naruto has access to better teachers whom he cannot match. Kinda makes one wonder again how far Naruto is from jonin considering that Asuma is one and has. It much left to teach Naruto. Surprising how you got them to visit the toads. Wondering whether Naruto will still be offered to sign the monkey contract though it depends on whether Hiruzen mentioned his ideas to anyone. Maybe Enma? Anyway. Loved that Naruto was propels introduced to the toads. Looking forward to him talking and fighting with them more tactically compared to the show. Already hinting at sage mode with Naruto feeling the strange energy? Toad summoning is just a massive combat power boost for Naruto since it only requires enough chakra and the control to summon exactly what you want. Final interaction with Tsunade was good as was promised. They are similar. Main difference is just that Naruto knows he cannot run away. Tsunade is also a big hypocrite here. She got a special treatment no other deserter is provided. She is not pursued and can remain in her home country, so she is also rather safe from foreign threats. Not that Konoha only allowed that because they are nice but because openly declaring the granddaughter of Hashirama Senju rogue and hunting her is a PR nightmare. I think it was also said that Konoha tries to keep her desertion secret from the other villages.
