The energy of the village square bled quickly into the warm hush of the afternoon, crowds slowly dispersing beneath Konoha's broad, leafy avenues.
Laughter and relief faded into distant comfort as the villagers returned home, and most ninja left their posts to reunite with loved ones, tend wounds, or simply rest after the harrowing campaign.
The shadows stretched, long and blue, from the bases of the great gates toward a thousand small porches and alleyways.
Still at the perimeter, the official company waited—Minato at Hiruzen's right, with Radahn looming a step behind them, his golden armor catching every mote of sunlight that filtered through the giant trees.
A select few ninja from the main force, weapons slung but expressions alert, stood poised nearby.
Their duty was as much symbolic as practical: a visual reassurance that the legend named Radahn, now a stranger in their land, was escorted with full honor, not suspicion.
Hiruzen, surveying the thinning crowd with a tired smile, slowly faced the assembled shinobi.
"All of you—you've done Konoha proud today. Go rest now. Let your hearts and bodies recover. I will speak with you all at first light."
"Hai, Hokage-sama!" came the chorus, crisp and loyal. In orderly waves, the ninja saluted and quietly faded into the labyrinth of side streets, heading for their families, barracks, or any patch of shade they could claim for themselves.
Soon only three remained in the lengthening quiet: the Third Hokage, Minato Namikaze—already marked by fate for leadership—and Radahn, whose mere presence seemed to command the goldening air itself.
The avenue north of the gates was momentarily silent but for the gentle sigh of the wind through the leaves.
Here, Hiruzen resumed his stride, back straight despite the exhaustion that gripped his bones, gesturing for the others to follow.
They walked deeper into Konoha, past familiar sights now touched with exhaustion and resolve. Children laughed in the distance, merchants quietly set up the last dumpling stands of the day, and injured shinobi hobbled through narrow lanes with the help of clanmates.
The village was alive, but war-weary. Radahn's footsteps echoed heavy on the stone path, but somehow he managed to silence them when near the nervous or curious, moving with a strange grace that belied his mass.
As they entered the Senju district, the atmosphere changed—wider lanes lined with cherry trees, the air dense with history and memory.
The architecture shifted: large, compound-style homes featuring traditional sliding screens, curved eaves, gardens tangled with weeds left untrimmed by war. It had once been the proudest quarter of Konoha, center of strength, lineage, and political weight.
Now, empty windows stared like dormant eyes. Minato stole a glance at Hiruzen, understanding the weight of this place:
'Most of the Senju are gone—lost to the wars, or scattered by their duty to the village. The compound, once so full, feels almost haunted. Even Tsunade-sama must find it hard to return nowadays.'
Civilian families now occupied some of the buildings on the main street, clusters of children playing by fallen petals and elders sitting on stoops, their laughter quieter than elsewhere.
When they saw the Hokage, they rose and bowed deeply. When they saw Radahn, their gazes flickered with wonder and unease—but none dared look him in the eye for long.
Hiruzen led the way to one of the district's main residences—a vast, two-story mansion standing apart from its neighbours, its gate marked with the faded crest of the Senju: a stylized leaf cupped by ancient hands.
Vines crept up the carved woodwork, and the garden was overgrown, the fish pond choked by lily pads in sore need of attention. Yet the bones of the house were strong and stately, an echo of former glory.
They entered the grounds through a heavy wooden gate. Radahn paused for a moment, gaze sweeping over every feature, from the polished stones of the courtyard to the silent paper screens and the faded glory of the main shoji doors. The mansion's silence was deep and settled, almost respectful.
Hiruzen halted at the threshold, turning to address Radahn with a low bow.
"Here you will be staying, Radahn-dono. Forgive us for bringing our benefactor to an isolated and lonely mansion; the times have forced us into many regrets."
Radahn considered the house before him in silence.
The afternoon sun painted golden shapes across the garden; the wind carried the fragrance of old wisteria and the faintest memories of battle-sweat and medicinal salves. He noted the dust in the eaves, the lingering feeling of absence.
He spoke, his voice even.
"This will suffice. Thank you for your hospitality, leader of this village."
Hiruzen's burdened face cracked a tired but genuine smile.
The Hokage motioned to Minato, stepping back from the door.
"Minato, I'll leave you here with Radahn-dono. Explain to him the household, the neighbours, and how things work in our village. Kakashi will come the next day to guide him further."
Minato nodded deeply, hands at his sides.
"Hai, Hokage-sama. I'll make sure he understands everything."
The old Hokage turned once to Radahn, bowing again—a gesture not of subservience, but recognition of the delicate game unfolding between power and hospitality.
He strode away then, steps slow but unhesitant, his shadow stretching long across the flagstones as he disappeared toward the center of the village.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The late afternoon sun filtered softly through the large paper-panelled windows as Minato Namikaze guided Radahn through the ancient halls of the Senju Estate.
The walls, adorned with faded tapestries bearing the emblem of the Senju clan, whispered of a glorious past now marked by quiet solitude.
Dust motes danced gently in sunbeams that cut through the dim interiors, settling over ornate wooden floors polished long ago by hands now gone to history.
Minato spoke carefully, mindful of the weight the mansion's history seemed to hold—not only in its physical beauty but in the memories and expectations buried beneath the faded grandeur.
"Radahn-dono," Minato began, his voice steady but respectful,
"this mansion stands as a relic of Senju clan's pride. Though much of the village has grown and changed around it, this place remains a sanctuary for those who embody the spirit of the Senju."
He paused, allowing Radahn to absorb the surroundings—the heavy wooden beams, the delicate sliding doors inscribed with calligraphy, the scent of rich cedarwood mingling with a faint trace of incense lingering in the air.
"Considering the devastation the village has endured, especially during the recent conflicts, most residences have been repurposed to house those displaced. Civilian families and wounded shinobi now occupy many of those homes."
Minato's gaze flickered briefly to a cluster of simple paper lanterns illuminating a small garden outside—a reminder of the fragile life continuing despite scars old and new.
"Given this, our options for housing visitors of your... stature," he continued,
"were limited. This estate is somewhat isolated, but offers the space and privacy necessary for your rest."
Radahn observed the mansion without response.
Minato continued,
"Regarding your needs here, meals will be delivered directly to your quarters. We have a trusted group of ninja attendants responsible for daily care—they will ensure you receive proper nourishment without you needing to leave this sanctuary."
He stopped before a doorway bordered by an intricate cherry blossom motif etched into the wood.
"Should you require anything—medical supplies, messages, or even escort to other parts of Konoha—we have stationed a dedicated squad at the main entrance. They will be at your disposal, day and night."
Minato inclined his head and bowed slightly,
"If there's ever anything beyond what has been arranged, do not hesitate to send a messenger. I will come personally to attend to your needs."
The two stood in a quiet reverence for a moment, the afternoon shadows lengthening, the mansion embracing them like a cocoon.
Then Minato gave a final respectful bow.
"Take care, Radahn-dono. Until we meet again."
With that, Minato's footsteps faded softly down the corridor, leaving Radahn alone in the vast stillness of the Senju Estate.