It was still early in the morning, and the sun was passing through the towering windows of the Hokage's office, making it bright and clear.
Sarutobi Hiruzen, as the Third Hokage, sat not in his chair, but perched on the wide stone windowsill, his gaze fixed intently downward, towards the cluster of buildings that housed the Ninja Academy.
Below, tiny figures moved across the academy yard like ants after a rain. His focus, however, was laser-sharp on one specific figure seated near a window in a classroom.
Even from this height, the vibrant cascade of raven-black hair, distinct even among other Uchiha children, was unmistakable: Uchiha Azula.
She wasn't paying attention—not in the way the other Uchiha would normally, heads bowed dutifully over scrolls or straining to catch Itsuki's lecture on the Will of Fire.
Azula sat with a slight slouch, her chin resting on her palm, elbow propped on the desk. Her free hand moved with swift, decisive strokes across a sheet of paper; she was clearly drawing.
Hiruzen couldn't see the subject, but the smile on her face while drawing was unexpectedly giving him chills, as if it was something bad.
'Too many eyes,' Hiruzen thought. Far, far too many.
Azula, engrossed in her sketch, seemed not to notice—or not to care about—the surreptitious glances flickering her way from her classmates, the way Itsuki's eyes looked toward her for less than a second, showing clearly he knew what she was doing. Hiruzen could even detect the subtle shifts in chakra signatures from ANBU observers placed on nearby rooftops.
The sheer volume of attention focused on one class and this girl was simply beyond his expectations.
"The Genius Daughter of the Uchiha Patriarch." The title repeated in his mind.
Learned to speak coherent sentences before her first birthday. Walking unaided mere weeks later. Presented with the abstract concept of chakra extraction by her formidable father, Uchiha Tajima, and mastering it after a single explanation—a feat that left many shinobi shaking their heads in embarrassment.
She had a dual chakra nature: Fire and Lightning, a potent combination that spoke of inherent power and volatile potential—but most importantly, the same as the great Madara Uchiha.
She'd reportedly mastered her first Fire Release jutsu, the foundational Gōkakyū no Jutsu (Great Fireball Technique), within days, not months.
And then, the audacious declaration she made resounded through clan compounds and Hokage Tower corridors alike: "Fire Release is too easy. I want to learn Lightning Release too."
Hiruzen sighed, the sound a soft whisper lost in the cavernous office. He remembered Tobirama-sensei's sharp, analytical eyes fixed on reports of the young Uchiha prodigy.
The Second Hokage had seen not just power, but a crucible needing careful shaping.
"That one," Tobirama had stated during a rare, quiet moment reviewing Uchiha potentials, tapping Azula's file with a long finger, "She is too talented and has great potential, at least not less than Izuna."
"Left solely to the Uchiha's insular pride and their… historical inclinations, she could become another Madara. Or worse, something entirely new and uncontrollable. Once this summit concludes, I intend to take her as my personal student. Guide that fire before it consumes her and everything around her."
But Tobirama-sensei was dead—just on the eve of the end of the brutal crucible of the First Shinobi War. And Hiruzen, his chosen successor, sat in this office feeling like an impostor perched on a throne of glass. His position was… precarious and embarrassingly so.
He knew, with a certainty in him, that the Uchiha Clan—fiercely protective and notoriously proud—would never relinquish their 'once-in-a-lifetime genius' to an outsider's tutelage. Not unless that outsider carried the legendary reputation of Hashirama or Tobirama.
Hiruzen Sarutobi, despite his formidable skills and the title of Hokage, was just a Sarutobi. His Sarutobi clan had been strong vassals to the Senju—respected, but not revered like the founding clans.
His ascension felt less like destiny and more like a compromise forged in the desperate aftermath of Tobirama's sacrifice, heavily reliant on Uzumaki Mito's steely endorsement and the Uchiha's guilt over Madara's betrayal. He could still feel the skeptical stares, the unspoken question: "Is this the best Konoha can offer?"
It was already good that no one confronted him directly, plus he was strong enough not to complain about his situation—and fortunately, he found one small stroke of luck in the gloom of his political reality: Azula herself.
Unlike the stereotypical Uchiha, whose warmth rarely extended beyond clan lines, Azula was… different. Infamously so. Reports spoke of a spirited, almost disruptive energy.
She wasn't aloof; she was naughty. Pranks involving strategically placed inkwells, clever verbal sparring that left everyone flustered, a disregard for protocol that bordered on disrespectful—these weren't the hallmarks of a cold, clan-bound automaton.
This showed that she had a spark of individuality, perhaps even a mischievous empathy buried beneath the Uchiha pride. Was it possible? Could this fiery prodigy be molded into something that served the village, not just the clan, just like Kagami?
His gaze drifted from Azula's absorbed figure to another, sitting straighter, blonde hair shining like spun gold even from this distance: Senju Tsunade.
Hashirama-sama's granddaughter, the village princess, brimming with inherited vitality and burgeoning gambling 'talent'. Seeing them both—the Uchiha firebrand and the Senju heir—learning (or not learning) under the same roof…
"Konoha is truly blooming," Hiruzen murmured, the words tasting both sweet and bitter. "So much potential… I must become the Hokage Tobirama-sensei believed I could be. For them. For everyone."
The First War had been a meat grinder, leaving scars on the land and the soul of the village. Yet, it had also cemented Konoha's status as the undisputed strongest. The losses were horrific, but the survivors were titans.
The Uchiha clan alone, with their Sharingan and fire mastery, could likely hold Sunagakure at bay. The Hyuga, with their Byakugan and Gentle Fist, combined with the formidable Ino-Shika-Cho trio and the disciplined might of the Shimura and Sarutobi clans, could match Iwagakure's stone-hard resilience.
The Senju lineage, supported by the formidable fuinjutsu and vitality of their Uzumaki allies, presented an almost insurmountable barrier to any other major village. And presiding over it all, a silent, watchful pillar of strength: Uzumaki Mito.
Widow of Hashirama, Jinchuriki of the Nine-Tails, her power as the strongest Uzumaki—who only married the strongest, that was Hashirama—a deterrent as potent as any army. She was, without question, the single strongest shinobi alive.
Konoha's strength was undeniable, overwhelming. And that, paradoxically, was part of Hiruzen's problem. His own clan, strong but not foundational, felt insignificant amidst these giants.
He ruled because Mito willed it—honoring Tobirama's dying wish—and because the Uchiha, still stained by Madara's treachery, lacked the moral high ground to object.
But now that he had tasted the responsibility, the sheer intoxicating potential of guiding this incredible village, he didn't want to step down.
He craved to prove himself, to lead Konoha to even greater heights, to weave the disparate threads of its mighty clans into an unbreakable tapestry. He believed he could do it. He had to.
Heaving another sigh, heavier this time, Hiruzen finally pushed himself off the windowsill. The view of the academy, with its dual symbols of hope and political headache, was replaced by the austere reality of his desk.
His eyes fell immediately on the object dominating its surface, something that could even provoke a war: the Scroll of Seals.
This was his path. His lifeline. Hiruzen understood the fundamental law of the shinobi world with brutal clarity: strength is absolute. Power commanded respect, silenced dissent, forged loyalty.
He lacked a Kekkei Genkai, the inherited trump cards that defined clans like the Uchiha or Hyuga. His gift was versatility—an affinity for all five basic chakra natures.
A broad foundation, but not a singular, overwhelming pillar. The Scroll of Seals, repository of Konoha's most potent and dangerous jutsu, many created by Tobirama himself, was his crucible, his cheat code to bridge the gap.
'If I can master even sixty percent of the techniques within…' The thought was always in his head. He wouldn't reach Tobirama's icy, innovative genius or Hashirama's god-like power, but it would be enough.
Enough power to silence the whispers, to force recognition, to make the clans truly see him not as a placeholder, but as Hokage in his own right.
"THUD."
The heavy oak door of the Hokage's office crashed open without warning, without even the courtesy of a knock. The sudden violence of the sound shattered Hiruzen's concentration, making him jerk his hand back as if burned.
He didn't need to turn. The heavy, deliberate footsteps, the faint scent of steel and old paper, the sheer presumption—it could only be one man.
"Hiruzen," a voice rasped, dry as autumn leaves scraping stone. "It seems you're making yourself overly familiar with this office. Have you forgotten the way to your own home?"
Shimura Danzo stood in front of him, who, despite being young, looked like an exhausted old man who had suffered a huge setback.
A wry, humorless smile touched Hiruzen's lips. "Danzo. I should be saying that to you. Entering and leaving the Hokage's office without knocking… you grow bolder by the day."
His tone held no real reproach, more the long-suffering complaint of a man used to an old friend's abrasive habits.
Danzo merely snorted, a sharp, dismissive sound. "Hmph. Boldness is recognizing necessity. While you bury yourself in scrolls and sentiment, the village requires active stewardship. Biwako must despair of ever seeing you."
He stepped fully into the room, moving towards the desk, his gaze flickering over the Scroll of Seals with some interest before settling back on Hiruzen. The mention of Hiruzen's gentle wife, Biwako, was a subtle barb, implying neglect of personal duty for uncertain political gain.
Hiruzen indeed felt something at the mention of Biwako; he did miss Biwako's calming presence. But Danzo was right, in his own way.
He was buried here by choice. He couldn't show that weakness—not to Danzo. Danzo thrived on perceived vulnerability. He was relentlessly pragmatic, a man who saw the world in stark shades of black, white, and Konoha's survival grey. He would never visit without a purpose.
"So," Hiruzen said, moving around the desk to stand behind it, placing the solid wood barrier between them—a subconscious gesture of authority.
He kept his voice level, carefully neutral, trying to strip it of any hint of accusation or weariness. "I assume you didn't brave the stairs just to chastise me about my work habits or my relationship?"
To Danzo, still haunted by the moment he hesitated to sacrifice himself for Tobirama—a hesitation that allowed Hiruzen to seize the mantle of Hokage—Hiruzen's calm tone, his position behind the desk, sounded like the condescension of a superior.
It stung the nerve of Danzo's own ambition and regret. 'He thinks I come begging,' Danzo thought, the bitterness a familiar acid in his throat. 'He sits in sensei's chair and forgets who stood beside him, blade ready, while he trembled.'
Yet, Danzo was a master of swallowing pride for perceived greater gain. He forced the tension from his shoulders, adopting a posture of cool deliberation. "Perceptive as ever, 'Hokage-sama'," he acknowledged, the title laced with some irony. "My visit concerns the currently-in-the-Academy dangerous Azula today."
Hiruzen's senses immediately sharpened, his posture unconsciously straightening. Any mention of the Uchiha—especially that Uchiha—was a potential landmine. "Danzo, whatever thoughts are brewing in that tactical mind of yours, tread carefully."
"Provoking the Uchiha, especially regarding Tajima's daughter, is not strategy; it is courting disaster. We are all Konoha. We bled together in the war." He emphasized the last point.
Danzo gave a curt, almost imperceptible nod. "Disaster is the consequence of inaction and poor planning, Hiruzen. Do not mistake pragmatism for provocation. I have no intention of antagonizing the Uchiha."
"My thoughts are focused on advantage. Advantage for the village, and significantly, advantage for you." He paused, letting the implication hang. "Done correctly, this could secure the Uchiha clan's support."
"Combine that with the existing backing of the Senju, primarily through Lady Mito's adherence to Lord Second's wishes, and your position as Hokage would become… unassailable."
Hiruzen felt the hook sink in, barbed and tempting.
It definitely wasn't greed for power—he believed his leadership could benefit Konoha—but the allure of stability, of finally stepping out from under the shadow of his predecessors and the doubt of the clans, was potent.
"Explain," he commanded, his voice low. "What precisely do you propose?"
Seeing Hiruzen engage, truly consider his proposal, was a victory in itself. Danzo lowered his voice conspiratorially, though the office was empty save for them. "Azula's talent is undeniable. She eclipses even Kagami at the same age, and Kagami stands among the strongest shinobi we possess."
"Her identity," Danzo continued, "makes her infinitely more valuable and infinitely more dangerous. She is Tajima's blood, his heir apparent in all but formal declaration. This grants her immense influence within the clan but makes her utterly inaccessible to outside guidance."
"The Uchiha will cocoon her in their doctrine, their pride, their… susceptibility to emotional extremes. They will mold her into another weapon solely for the Uchiha—maybe another potential Madara."
Hiruzen opened his mouth, perhaps to offer a counterpoint about the Uchiha's loyalty or Kagami's example, but Danzo cut him off with a sharp gesture. "You know the history. You know their psychology, ingrained by generations of conflict and the Sharingan's curse."
"Tobirama-sensei understood it better than any of us, which is precisely why he intended to intervene. But sensei is gone. The opportunity he saw is still there—but it is fragile, fleeting. We stand at a unique confluence of factors."
Danzo began to pace slowly. "First: the guilt. Madara's betrayal, leading directly to Hashirama-sama's decline and death—which precipitated the First War… that stain is still fresh on the Uchiha collective conscience."
"They are defensive, aware of the village's lingering suspicion. They want legitimacy, acceptance. Second: Azula's age and temperament. She is young, brilliant, and crucially, confident. Uchiha confidence is a predictable lever. Third: your position, while challenged, still holds the authority of the Hokage."
He stopped pacing and faced Hiruzen squarely. "Here is the proposal: We accelerate Azula's path. We plant the seed—subtly, of course—that true genius transcends the academy's plodding pace."
"That the ultimate mark of distinction, surpassing even the First's son, would be to graduate exceptionally early. Someone whispers it where she, or her proud father, might hear. We frame it not as necessity, but as an 'honor' reserved only for Konoha's brightest star."
Hiruzen's brow furrowed deeply. "Force her onto the battlefield as a child? Danzo, Tobirama-sensei founded the academy specifically to prevent that! To give children a childhood—to train them properly before throwing them into the meat grinder!"
"Who said anything about throwing her to the wolves?" Danzo countered smoothly, his voice like oiled steel. "The graduation itself is symbolic. The exam is the stage where she inevitably excels, demonstrating power that belies her years—which she will, Hiruzen, you've seen the reports—and you, as Hokage, step in."
"Publicly. Before the council, before the clan representatives. You extend an offer—not as a demand—but as a gesture of unprecedented goodwill and recognition in the fragile peace following the war."
Danzo's eyes gleamed with cold strategy. "You offer to take Uchiha Azula as your personal apprentice. You, Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Third Hokage, extending the hand of mentorship to the Uchiha clan's jewel."
"You speak of Tobirama-sensei's unrealized intention, of your desire to honor his vision and foster unity by guiding their greatest talent personally. You emphasize that her potential belongs not just to the Uchiha, but to all of Konoha."
He paused, letting the scenario unfold in Hiruzen's mind. "Consider their position, Hiruzen. Refuse? They publicly spurn the Hokage's magnanimous offer, reinforcing every suspicion about their isolationism and ingratitude, especially so soon after Madara's shadow."
"The village's sympathy, already strained, evaporates. Their political capital plummets. Accept? They gain the Hokage's personal patronage for their heir—a powerful symbol of acceptance and integration."
"Tajima gains immense face. And you," Danzo pointed a bony finger at Hiruzen, "gain direct influence over the most powerful emerging asset in the village. You mold her loyalty. You subtly steer her development away from pure Uchiha. You secure the clan's backing through their most prized possession."
Hiruzen stood utterly still behind his desk, Danzo's words repeating in his head. The plan was diabolical in its simplicity—its ruthless exploitation of pride, guilt, and political vulnerability. It was feasible. It addressed Hiruzen's deepest insecurities and offered a path to the stability he longed for.
But the cost…
Images flashed in Hiruzen's mind: Azula, small and fierce, drawing in a sunlit classroom, seemingly happy. Tobirama-sensei's stern face, lecturing on the evils of child soldiers, the sacred purpose of the academy.
The eyes of young genin returning broken from the front lines of the First War. Was he contemplating doing exactly what the system was designed to prevent? Exploiting a child's talent and arrogance for political gain? Manipulating an entire clan through their love for their prodigy?
Yet… the alternative? Azula molded solely by Tajima and the Uchiha elders, her immense potential honed into a weapon of clan supremacy, her unique spark extinguished by dogma?
His own tenure as Hokage perpetually undermined, his authority questioned, potentially leading to instability that could fracture the village from within—could he afford not to act?
He looked at Danzo—really looked at him. Hiruzen knew his oldest friend, his rival. Danzo never acted solely for another's benefit. There was always another layer, another angle.
What did he gain from Azula becoming Hiruzen's apprentice? Influence over her by proximity? A weakening of the Uchiha's insular control? A demonstration of his own indispensability to the Hokage? Hiruzen couldn't see the full picture, and that uncertainty wasn't something he wanted.
To ask Danzo directly would be to shatter the trust between them—to imply suspicion Danzo would never forgive. It would turn a potential ally in this dangerous gambit into a resentful adversary. Hiruzen needed Danzo's cunning, his ruthlessness, even as he feared the direction it could take them.
He let out a long, slow breath, straightening the Hokage hat on his head, meeting Danzo's expectant gaze.
"Okay, Danzo," Hiruzen said. "It's… a bold strategy. Let me think about it."
.......
Was moving yesterday and didn't manage to upload, sorry and don't forget to vote.