The night was quiet, save for the soft chirping of crickets and the rustle of leaves outside my shack. I sat cross-legged on the floor, my hands steady as I channeled chakra into a new genjutsu experiment—a variation of my Mirror Mirage Technique that added faint auditory cues, like the sound of footsteps to make the illusory clones more convincing. My training never stopped; every night was a chance to refine my skills, to edge closer to my goals of power, control, and freedom. The world of shinobi was a chessboard, and I was determined to be a master player, not a pawn.
But tonight, the air felt different—heavier, charged with a presence I couldn't ignore. My senses, sharpened by years of paranoia and chakra-enhanced perception, picked up a faint disturbance: the subtle shift of chakra, the weight of someone powerful nearby. I extinguished the small candle beside me and stood, my hands loose but ready, my mind racing through possibilities. An intruder? A spy? Or something worse?
The door creaked open, and a figure stepped into the dim moonlight filtering through the shack's broken roof. Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, stood before me, his pipe glowing faintly in the darkness. His face was calm, almost grandfatherly, but his eyes were sharp, piercing through the shadows as if they could see into my soul. I tensed, my instincts screaming to prepare for a fight, but I forced myself to relax. This wasn't an attack—it was a test.
"Archon," Hiruzen said, his voice low but carrying the weight of authority. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."
I inclined my head, keeping my tone neutral. "Hokage-sama. It's late for a visit."
He smiled, a faint curve of his lips, and gestured to the floor. "May I sit?"
I nodded, watching as he lowered himself onto a worn mat, his movements slow but deliberate. This was no casual visit. Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Professor, the leader of Konoha, had come to my rundown shack in the middle of the night. My gamer instincts, honed from years of playing RPGs like Baldur's Gate, kicked in—this was a dialogue tree, a moment where every word mattered. He was probing, and I needed to play my cards carefully.
Hiruzen puffed on his pipe, the smoke curling upward like a wisp of chakra. "You've caught the attention of many, Archon. Your skills in the Academy—genjutsu, taijutsu, even medical ninjutsu—are remarkable for one so young. An orphan, no less, with no clan to guide you."
I shrugged, keeping my expression impassive. "I train hard. The Academy gives me tools, and I use them."
He chuckled, but it wasn't mocking—more like he was testing the waters. "Indeed. But skill alone doesn't make a shinobi. Konoha thrives on something deeper: the Will of Fire. Do you know what that means?"
I'd heard the phrase before, tossed around by Iruka and other instructors like a sacred mantra. Loyalty to the village, camaraderie, protecting the next generation. It was noble, but to me, it sounded like a chain—a way to bind shinobi to Konoha's will. Still, I wasn't foolish enough to say that aloud.
"It's about protecting the village," I said carefully. "Putting Konoha above yourself."
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing my words. "Close, but not quite. The Will of Fire is the belief that love and unity are the strength of our village. It's what binds us, from the youngest genin to the Hokage. I wonder, Archon… do you feel that bond?"
The question hung in the air, heavy as a kunai. He was probing my character, searching for cracks—loyalty, ambition, or something darker. I thought of my past life, hunched over a screen playing Baldur's Gate, where choices shaped the story. This was no different. I could lie, parrot the village's ideals, but Hiruzen was too sharp for empty words. Instead, I chose a half-truth, one that fit my goals without revealing too much.
"I'm an orphan," I said, my voice steady. "I've had to rely on myself, not bonds. But I understand strength. Konoha's strong because its people work together. I respect that."
He studied me, his pipe glowing as he took another puff. "Respect is a start. But tell me, what drives you? You train relentlessly, pushing beyond what the Academy demands. What is it you seek?"
In Dragon Age, moments like this were where you picked your character's motivation—power, redemption, survival. My truth was power and freedom, but I couldn't say that to the Hokage. Instead, I leaned on something he'd understand.
"Control," I said. "Over my own path. The Nine-Tails attack took everything from me before I even knew what I had. I train so I'll never be that helpless again."
It wasn't a lie. My memories of that night—a dying woman, a burning village—were fragments, but they fueled my drive. Hiruzen nodded, his expression softening, but I could tell he wasn't fully convinced.
"A fair answer," he said. "But control can be a lonely road. The Will of Fire is about connection—friends, comrades, a purpose beyond oneself. Have you considered that?"
I thought of Naruto's relentless optimism, Shikamaru's lazy loyalty, Ino's fiery determination. They were pieces on the board, useful but not essential. Still, I saw the value in playing along. "I'm learning," I said. "The Academy's teaching me more than just techniques. Naruto, Shikamaru, the others—they're… interesting. I'm not good at trusting, but I'm trying."
Hiruzen's smile returned, warmer this time. "That's all I ask. Konoha is a family, Archon. You may not feel it yet, but you're part of it. Keep training, keep growing, and perhaps you'll find that connection."
He stood, his robes rustling as he moved toward the door. "One more thing," he said, pausing. "Your techniques—those slicing attacks, your illusions—they're unique. Be mindful of how you use them. Power draws attention, and not all of it is kind."
I nodded, my mind racing. He knew about Dismantle and Cleave, maybe even my Mirror Mirage Technique. Danzo's influence, no doubt, feeding him reports. The Hokage's visit wasn't just about the Will of Fire—it was a warning. They were watching, and I needed to be more careful than ever.
After Hiruzen left, I sat in the dark, my thoughts churning. The Will of Fire was a noble ideal, but it wasn't mine. My goals were bigger than Konoha—freedom from any chain, power to shape my own destiny. Yet the Hokage's words lingered, not because I believed them, but because they were a puzzle. In RPGs, you didn't just reject a faction's ideology; you used it, manipulated it to your advantage. Konoha's trust could be a shield, protecting me from Danzo's suspicions while I grew stronger.
I resumed my training, summoning three Mirror Mirage clones that flickered around the shack, their footsteps echoing faintly thanks to my latest tweaks. I practiced a new genjutsu inspired by Ino's Mind Transfer, a subtle illusion that made a nearby rat freeze, its mind flooded with conflicting images. My physical training continued, too—I lifted a heavy stone with one hand, my chakra-enhanced muscles barely straining. Medical ninjutsu kept me sharp, a quick heal closing a minor cut from a slipped kunai.
Hiruzen's visit had changed the game. The board was shifting, and I needed to stay ahead. I wasn't here to be Konoha's hero or its villain—just Archon, the orphan carving his own path. The Will of Fire might burn brightly, but my flame was colder, sharper, and it would light the way to my future.