Chapter 9: I Didn't Expect You to Be This Kind of Hokage
The last time I'd stepped foot in the Hokage's office was what—six months ago? Back then, I was still playing follow-the-leader with my jounin instructor, blissfully unaware that my future would involve becoming intimately acquainted with dead bodies on a professional level.
The moment I walked through those doors, I could practically taste the tension hanging in the air like a bad smell. It was the kind of atmosphere that screamed "someone's about to have a very bad day," and judging by my luck lately, that someone was probably me.
My eyes immediately zeroed in on the figure slouched in a chair off to the side—an old man with a cane who radiated the kind of malevolent energy that made small children cry and grown men reconsider their life choices.
Danzo.
Oh, fantastic. Just absolutely wonderful.
Look, I had a simple philosophy when it came to Root's charming leader: You don't bother me while I'm fondling corpses for pocket change, and I won't bother you while you're busy crushing the hopes and dreams of loyal shinobi. It was a beautifully symbiotic relationship built on mutual avoidance.
Of course, with my current power level hovering somewhere between "slightly above civilian" and "moderately threatening houseplant," Danzo probably couldn't be bothered to waste his time plotting my demise. That was reserved for people who actually mattered.
Way to boost your own ego there, Qifeng.
I was busy spiraling into a delightful little pit of self-deprecation when the Third Hokage's voice cut through my mental gymnastics.
"Qifeng, you're here."
"Hokage-sama," I replied, snapping to attention with all the enthusiasm of someone who'd rather be literally anywhere else. I stood there like a well-trained dog, waiting for whatever fresh hell was about to be dumped on my plate.
Sarutobi Hiruzen picked up his pipe—that blessed instrument of hypocrisy—and tapped it thoughtfully against his desk. His expression was serious enough to make me wonder if I'd accidentally committed treason in the past week.
"Smoke less with Asuma," he said finally.
I blinked. Then I stared at the pipe in his hands, feeling my eye twitch involuntarily.
"...Yes, sir."
Oh, that's rich. The man who probably goes through more tobacco in a day than most people consume in a month was lecturing me about smoking. But hey, when you're the Hokage's son's bad influence, I suppose someone has to take the fall.
It wasn't like Asuma had ratted me out—no, the old man was way too sharp for that. He knew exactly who his precious youngest son was hanging around with and what kind of "educational activities" we got up to behind the training grounds.
I didn't expect you to be this kind of Hokage! Petty parental lectures disguised as official business? How delightfully passive-aggressive.
"How has your training been recently?" Hiruzen continued, apparently not done with this impromptu performance review. "You haven't been slacking off, have you?"
Time to play the honesty card and hope it didn't blow up in my face.
"Well, sir, I haven't been on a mission in quite a while, and the morgue keeps me pretty busy. I'm probably a bit... rusty." I tried to sound appropriately sheepish while internally screaming about how obvious this whole setup was.
The man stared at me for what felt like an eternity, his eyes boring into my soul like he was trying to calculate exactly how screwed I was about to be. Finally, he let out a sigh that spoke volumes about his current life choices.
"The shinobi world has been rather turbulent lately," he said, his tone shifting to that gentle-but-ominous register that all authority figures seemed to master. "You really can't afford to let your skills deteriorate. I'm afraid I have a mission for you—it's something of a... desperate measure."
There it is!
The classic setup! 'Oh, you're clearly not ready for this, but I'm going to send you anyway because reasons.' It was like watching a particularly cruel magic trick where everyone knew how it ended, but you had to sit through the whole performance anyway.
"What kind of mission?" I asked, already mentally preparing my resignation letter.
If you try to send me to the front lines right now, old man, I swear I'll tell everyone about that time I caught you reading those Icha Icha books in the office.
Instead of answering immediately, Hiruzen made a theatrical gesture toward the door. Because apparently, this farce needed more players.
Three figures entered, and I immediately recognized the shock of silver hair and dead-fish eyes that could only belong to one person.
Kakashi.
Of course. OF COURSE.
"Hokage-sama," Kakashi said with his usual enthusiasm, which is to say, none whatsoever.
The moment our eyes met, I could practically see the gears turning in his head. *Oh great, it's the morgue guy. Guess I know where this is going.*
Hiruzen rubbed his temples like he was nursing the world's worst headache, which, considering he had to deal with both of us, was probably accurate.
"There's been a vacancy in Kakashi's team after their last mission," he explained with the kind of practiced casualness that fooled absolutely no one. "After careful consideration, I believe you're the most suitable replacement, Qifeng. After all, you and Kakashi are already... acquainted."
Acquainted. That was certainly one way to put it.
In the past two months, Kakashi had made four separate trips to drop off bodies at my workplace. We were practically old friends at this point. Hell, at the rate he was going, I'd probably be seeing a few more of his teammates real soon.
*Is this even a mission, or just elaborate suicide with extra steps?*
My internal crisis was interrupted by Kakashi's cheerful contribution to the conversation.
"Hokage-sama, I don't think he can handle it."
*Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine.*
I felt my teeth grinding together. Current Kakashi was about as charming as a root canal performed by a drunk medic-nin. The guy talked like other people's deaths were just minor inconveniences in his daily schedule.
"Kakashi, this is an order," Hiruzen said with the kind of finality that brooked no argument.
"Fine," Kakashi replied with a shrug that radiated pure indifference. "But when he dies, that's not on me."
Oh, you absolute bastard.
Standing there listening to them discuss my impending demise like I was some kind of expendable equipment was really doing wonders for my self-esteem.
"Don't worry, this is just temporary," Hiruzen assured us. "The nature of this particular mission requires a... specialized team composition."
Kakashi nodded like this all made perfect sense, which it probably did to someone whose idea of team building involved a revolving door of corpses.
"Let me explain the mission," Hiruzen continued, standing up and moving around his desk with the practiced dramatics of someone who'd given this speech before. "Kirigakure has been making aggressive moves in the east. A reconnaissance team we sent to gather intelligence was almost completely eliminated, but they managed to escape the Land of Water with crucial information.
However, they were severely wounded during their escape from pursuing Mist ninja. Before dying, they used emergency protocols to transmit their location—somewhere in the Land of Hot Springs.
Your mission is to recover the bodies of all team members and return them safely to Konoha."
Oh, wonderful. A body-snatching mission in hostile territory. Just the kind of low-key assignment perfect for someone who was "rusty" and hadn't been on a real mission in months.
Hiruzen looked directly at me. "Qifeng, while you may be out of practice with active duty, you do have considerable expertise in... handling remains."
There it is. My glowing recommendation: 'He's great with dead people!'
"Understood," Kakashi said before I could even process the full scope of this disaster.
"Any questions?" Hiruzen asked, looking around the group with the satisfied expression of someone who'd just solved a particularly annoying puzzle.
I slowly raised my hand like a student asking for bathroom privileges.
"Isn't this kind of important intelligence a bit much for... well, us?" I gestured vaguely at our motley crew. "Shouldn't you be sending, I don't know, actual competent people?"
*Like maybe some ANBU? Or literally anyone with a functioning survival instinct?*
Hiruzen smiled with what I was beginning to recognize as his 'trust me, I'm definitely not sending you to die' expression.
"You raise a valid concern, but don't worry—I've positioned blocking forces at the Fire Country border, and there are several support teams in the area. The enemy's heavy hitters won't risk making moves with that kind of presence.
Your small profile is actually an advantage here. The more powerful the ninja we send, the more attention we attract."
Ah, I see. Translation: 'You're all so pathetically weak that the enemy won't even bother taking you seriously until it's too late.'
What a comforting thought.
"If there are no other questions, go prepare and depart as soon as possible," Hiruzen concluded with the kind of dismissive wave that suggested this conversation was officially over.
"Meet at the village gate in fifteen minutes," Kakashi said flatly, then promptly vanished like the antisocial ghost he was becoming.
The other two team members—whose names I should probably learn before we all died together—gave me looks that clearly said 'nice knowing you' before making their own strategic exits.
I stood there for a moment, taking in the full absurdity of my situation, before trudging home to grab my gear.
Time to pack for what might very well be the world's most expensive suicide mission.
After we left, the office fell into a different kind of tension. Danzo, who'd been sitting in ominous silence throughout the entire exchange, finally decided to contribute his special brand of sunshine to the conversation.
"Hiruzen," he said, his voice carrying that particular quality that made normal people want to hide under furniture, "if you let me train Kakashi, I could make him into the finest weapon Konoha has ever produced. Better than even his father."
It was clearly a topic they'd beaten to death before. Hiruzen shook his head with the weary patience of someone who'd had this argument more times than he cared to count.
"We're not discussing this again, Danzo."
But Danzo wasn't backing down. He stood up, leaning on his cane like some kind of ominous prophet of doom.
"Look at what he's become, Hiruzen. Regular shinobi can't reach him anymore. You're wasting Konoha's talent because of your own sentimental weakness. Someone has to operate in the shadows, and he's perfect for it."
"Kakashi is a genius who belongs in the light," Hiruzen replied firmly. "Konoha needs that kind of inspiration. Besides, I've already found the right person to guide him. After this mission, everything should fall into place."
Danzo's eyes narrowed with interest. "Who?"
"Minato," Hiruzen said with conviction. "He worked with Kakashi before, but circumstances forced them apart. With the current situation, he's the ideal choice."
The name seemed to deflate some of Danzo's argument. Even he couldn't argue with Namikaze Minato's track record.
"Two people don't make a team," Danzo pressed, still hunting for an angle. "It's not graduation season—where will you find a third member?"
Hiruzen took a long draw from his pipe, exhaling smoke with the casual air of someone who'd already thought this through.
"Maruyama Qifeng seems quite suitable, don't you think?"
Danzo actually snorted—a sound that somehow managed to be both dismissive and vaguely threatening.
"Him? It's questionable whether he'll even survive this mission."
"Then he'll have to survive first," Hiruzen replied with the kind of cold pragmatism that reminded everyone why he'd held the Hokage position for so long.
The truth was simple, even if it was unpleasant: while every shinobi's life had value, some were more valuable than others. Kakashi was a rare genius who could turn the tide of wars. Qifeng was... well, he was a chunin who worked in the morgue.
In times like these, you made the calculations that needed to be made. That's what it meant to be Hokage.
Even if it meant watching promising young shinobi get fed into the meat grinder, one team at a time.