The next day.
The Hokage Building was as quiet as usual.
Even a little too quiet.
The morning sunlight filtered through the windows, falling upon the tiled floors of the administrative complex. Outside, the village bustled with the usual activity—vendors shouting, children playing, shinobi moving swiftly through alleyways—but inside, the silence was suffocating.
Sarutobi Hiruzen dragged his tired body forward, each step feeling heavier than the last. His sandals scraped against the polished floor as he made his way toward the Hokage Room, back slightly hunched, exhaustion evident in every line on his face.
These past few days had been among the most mentally draining of his life—not because of the village's paperwork or political obligations, but because of the immense pressure and chaos lurking beneath the surface.
The great victory against Kumogakure had shifted everything.
Namikaze Mirai's fame had surged to a terrifying level. Not just because he had defeated the enemy—but because he had done so with overwhelming force, subjugating the Eight-Tails itself and forcing Kumogakure into a humiliating retreat.
His name echoed through the streets of Konoha like wildfire.
Everywhere Hiruzen went, the villagers spoke his name with awe and reverence. The youth admired him. The commoners respected him. Even among the shinobi, he was regarded as a living legend now.
'If only he were like Minato…' Hiruzen thought bitterly. 'If he had that same calm gentleness, I wouldn't mind handing the hat to him…'
But Mirai was not Minato.
He had blood on his hands—Danzo's blood. A former friend. A comrade-in-arms. Someone Hiruzen had trusted for decades, cut down coldly and unceremoniously. No trial. No debate. Just a silent execution in the shadows.
And then, the Uchiha.
Mirai didn't just win them over—he absorbed them.
Uchiha Fugaku himself had bowed to Mirai's will. The entire clan, once ostracized and watched with suspicion, now stood unified behind a single man. The implications were terrifying.
'How can I feel at ease with this?' Hiruzen asked himself.
'We must curb his power somehow. Thankfully, the Hokage election isn't based on popularity alone. It requires more than half the votes from the clan heads, military leaders, and Jōnin. He won't be able to get that many.'
Thinking of this, Hiruzen's tightly wound nerves eased—just a little. A breath of relief escaped his lips.
No, it wouldn't be so easy for Mirai.
The Sarutobi clan, the Shimura remnants, the loyal factions of the Ino-Shika-Cho—these were still on his side. With their support, they could block Mirai's rise during the vote.
The situation wasn't entirely lost.
He reached the door of the Hokage Room and pushed it open.
But the scene that greeted him turned his blood to ice.
The room, which should have been empty at this hour, was full—crammed with people. Not just any people. Every single shinobi in the room was a leader. A person of influence. A power in their own right.
And they were all staring directly at him.
For a long moment, Hiruzen couldn't move. His hand still rested on the edge of the door, frozen mid-motion. His old eyes scanned the crowd slowly.
Uchiha Fugaku. Hyuga Hiashi. Aburame Shibi. Inuzuka Tsume…
All clan heads.
And not just them.
Even among the ranks he had once counted as allies—he saw the faces of the Ino-Shika-Cho: Yamanaka Inoichi, Akimichi Choza, and Nara Shikaku.
His heart sank.
"What are you… all doing here?" he asked in a voice as dry as old parchment.
The silence pressed down like a weight. Cold sweat trickled down his neck. His eyes flicked toward the corners of the room instinctively.
Where were the Anbu?
There should've been guards stationed outside, and at least two bodyguards inside. How had all these people entered without triggering a single warning?
Why hadn't he received any alerts?
What the hell was happening?
"Third Hokage-sama." said Yamanaka Inoichi, stepping forward. His tone was calm, but the weight behind his words hit like a boulder. "It's time to abdicate."
The declaration echoed in the room like a hammer striking an anvil.
Hiruzen's eyes widened. "Inoichi… You…?"
The Yamanaka had always been aligned with the Sarutobi. Since the founding of Konoha, the Ino-Shika-Cho had stood with the Hokage lineage. This—this was a betrayal.
"Please abdicate from the position of Hokage." said Choza, his expression grim.
"Please abdicate from the position of Hokage." echoed Aburame Shibi, his voice emotionless behind his collar.
"Please abdicate from the position of Hokage!!" barked Inuzuka Tsume, her voice booming and final.
Each voice pounded on Hiruzen like waves during a storm, weakening his already fragile defenses.
Even more devastating was Uchiha Fugaku's silence.
He didn't need to speak. His mere presence was confirmation. The Uchiha were backing this mutiny.
'When… when did this happen? How did Mirai win over so many? What was I doing while he built all this?'
Panicking, Hiruzen shouted, "Anbu! Where are the Anbu?!"
His voice rang out across the Hokage Room. In the past, even a whisper would summon a dozen masked shinobi to his side.
But now?
Nothing.
Then, from the back of the crowd, a single figure stepped forward—wearing a cat-faced mask, white hair peeking from beneath the black cowl.
"Kakashi…" Hiruzen gasped.
"Why are you the only one here? Where is the rest of the squad?"
Kakashi didn't answer immediately. He removed his mask slowly, revealing the familiar calm smile—but it didn't reach his eyes.
"The Anbu posted outside the Hokage building were… obsolete." Kakashi said quietly. "The few who remained loyal to you were… weak. Removing them wasn't difficult."
"You…" Hiruzen's voice trembled. "You killed your comrades?"
"I corrected a mistake." Kakashi replied coolly. "They couldn't keep up with the times."
That was the final blow.
Everything made sense now. Why the guards had vanished. Why these leaders had entered so easily. Why no alerts had reached him.
The Anbu were compromised. Mirai had even taken them.
Hiruzen sagged against the cold stone wall, breath shuddering. His eyes—once sharp with wisdom—were now wide with helplessness.
A shadow loomed over him.
Namikaze Mirai.
His steps were steady, his expression unreadable. Those piercing blue eyes looked down upon the Third Hokage with neither hatred nor joy—only certainty.
"Third Hokage." Mirai said calmly, "The ceremony for my inauguration as the Fifth Hokage will take place the day after tomorrow."
His tone was casual, almost polite. But there was no room for refusal in his words.
"What do you think?" he added as if out of courtesy.
Hiruzen inhaled sharply. "You need the approval of the Fire Daimyo. Without it, no succession can be finalized."
He clutched at that last lifeline.
But then—
Mirai smiled coldly.
"The Daimyo?" he said softly. "Tell me, how many divisions does he command?"
The question wasn't real—it was rhetorical. An insult wrapped in silk.
Behind him, an Uchiha laughed—loudly, mockingly. Others joined in, the air thick with disdain.
The implication was clear: the Daimyo had no military power. No way to enforce any decision. His approval meant nothing now.
The laughter continued.
In that moment, Hiruzen's world collapsed.
The laughter faded into the background as his heart sank. He could see it now—clearer than ever.
His time was over.
He had been outmaneuvered, outpaced, and replaced.
The Will of Fire would burn in a new era now.
And it would burn in the name of Namikaze Mirai.
*****
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