Let's look far away from Konoha, at the same moment Uchiha Fugaku was unraveling the events of the "Blood Mount Incident" before the Third Hokage and the future Fourth.
8th September, Past Midnight. Not Konoha.
Thousands of miles from Konohagakure, a pale-skinned shinobi slept in a cave. He rested upright in a chair, silver hair hanging like tempered iron. He looked to be in his early thirties.
The cave had been turned into a hidden medical ward, dimly lit by the cold blue glow of a monitor.
Beep… beep… beep…
The machines were the only things awake — quiet, mechanical guardians watching over the patient.
The man in the bed appeared to be in his thirties, skin dusky, breathing steady and rhythmic. His fingers twitched, then slowly rose, reaching for the steaming nebulizer mask. He pulled it down.
Turning his head, he blinked hard until his eyes adjusted to the pale glow. Then a faint smile tugged at his lips as he recognized the man sleeping beside him — his childhood friend, Gingetsu Shimoshiro.
"Shiro…" the patient croaked, voice scraping like sandpaper. "Oy… Shiro."
Shiro jolted awake instantly, the instinct of a lifetime. When he saw the man on the bed conscious, a tear welled in his eye before he wiped it away with brusque speed.
"A… you bastard," he muttered, voice cracking. He stood, leaned in, and pressed a relieved kiss to A's forehead.
"You thought I'd die that easily, huh?" A rasped, managing a weak smirk.
Shiro helped him sit upright against the pillows. Then he called out, "Guard!"
"Hai! Gingetsu-taichō!"
A Kumo chūnin appeared in the doorway, barely restraining his excitement.
"Notify the Lord Raikage that his idiot of a son has finally woken up."
The guard nodded with unmistakable joy and bolted out.
---
Outside the cave, a young man lounged in a chair near the entrance, sunglasses on despite the dead of night. Four swords were strapped to him in a crisscross of hilts and sheaths.
The guard blasted out of the cave and nearly collided with him. The man in sunglasses jerked awake and, without hesitation, struck a practiced pose.
"YO! What's the rush, a sudden gush?!
Can't just breeze past Killer B — the man who's last
To be caught off guard, you're playin' a card that's hard!
State your biz before it's too late!"
The guard skidded to a stop. "A-sama has woken up!"
And then he zoomed off again.
B froze for a split second — then sprinted inside. He skidded to a dramatic stop at A's doorway, inhaled sharply, and unleashed:
"Big Brother A… you finally heard the call!
We stood tall, but waited for you to brawl!
That coma was weak, made the whole week bleak,
But now you awake — the future's ours to make! Word is bond!"
He held his swag pose, waiting.
A stared back with his classic dead-eyed exhaustion. Too tired for this.
B's composure cracked. Tears spilled down his face as he lunged forward, hugging A tightly.
"My big bro, I thought you was gonna die… the pain so high it got me fried — fool ya fool…"
When B finally straightened up, wiping his tears, A gave him a frail laugh.
"You had those lines ready for this moment, didn't you? B… what have you been doing while I was out?"
B puffed his chest.
"Yo, Aniki, for the last two months you been nappin'.
Your best bro B? I been straight rappin'!"
Shiro narrowed his eyes. "More like yappin'."
B spun toward him. "Yo, fool ya fool — cool rhyme, though."
A exhaled slowly. "Anyway… did you kill him?"
B's expression shifted instantly — serious, sharp. He struck a stance and delivered:
"Enji? That madman's gone, ya fool ya fool!
My sword was toothpick small, useless in the brawl —
So I went Eight-Tails, threw my tails, but still his fire prevails!
Then you jumped in — took the hit, changed the scene!
He hurt you, got cocky, his speed got sloppy!
That was my cue — Bijuu Bomb, bright and blue!
He couldn't block it, couldn't rock it — so I clocked it! YO!"
A closed his eyes.
Blood.
Red mist.
Comrades butchered.
Enji's fifty-meter flaming avatar trading blows with B's tailed form.
The moment A jumped in — and the sword impaled him.
"What about the body?" A asked quietly.
B replied in somber rhythm:
"The fight was done, but you were hit, my brother number one.
So I scooped you up, got you medical backup, no time for the cleanup, ya fool!
Went back with the squad, to bring our comrades home, no longer alone.
Searched for that fool Enji, all across the zone...
But his body was gone, someone else had come and gone.
The scene was clean, know what I mean?"
Even Shiro's eyebrows twitched in surprise.
A facepalmed slowly, sighing with disappointment and muttered, "It could've been avoided... all just because of a misunderstanding".
Far above Kumo, the night sky shimmered clear and brilliant.
Inside the Raikage's office, the Third sat in his chair facing the window, arms folded, gaze simmering with unspoken fury.
A knock.
A guard entered.
"Speak and leave," the Raikage growled.
The guard swallowed. "Lord Third… A-sama has awakened."
"…Fine."
The guard bowed and left.
The Raikage remained motionless — until a single tear slipped down his cheek.
"That idiot…" he whispered, voice cracking.
He stood, walked to the sofa by the wall, and pulled a hidden ribbon from beneath the cushions — transforming the structure into a flat bed. From a compartment in the armrest, he retrieved his blanket and pillow.
With a heavy sigh, he lay down.
He would sleep here in his office tonight.
Just like every night since A fell.
===
|Same day, 5:00 AM — Konohagakure|
Shimura Danzo, Chief of the Anbu Black Ops, was already awake — as always.
He sat at his desk, sifting through profiles of newly promoted Chūnin… deciding which ones he could quietly drag into his shadows.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
"Come in," he ordered.
The door slid open, and a brown-haired boy stepped in.
"Yes, Fū… speak," Danzo said without looking up.
Fū bowed lightly. "Danzo-sama… a new scout report just arrived. A convoy is heading toward Konoha."
"A convoy? At this hour? Merchants?" Danzo asked.
Fū shook his head. "No, sir. The report says it's coming directly from the Feudal Lord's palace."
Danzo's brows drew together. He processed the information slowly, then asked,
"Does it include an eight-man palanquin with dragon patterns?"
"Yes, sir. Exactly as you described. The palanquin is positioned at the center of the formation."
Danzo clicked his tongue, jaw tightening. "Damn it… How long has it been under surveillance?"
"Our operatives have been tracking them since they left the palace," Fū replied.
"Any more details?" Danzo's tone slipped into irritation.
"Yes, Danzo-sama. The convoy entered the palace empty-handed and departed with four carts of gifts and offerings from the Daimyō."
Danzo slammed his fist on the table. "Crap."
"You may go," he said sharply.
But Fū hesitated. "Danzo-sama… Mitokado-sama also instructed me to inform you that you are expected to receive the convoy."
"I AM NOT DOING IT," Danzo snapped, sounding every bit the grumpy old man he truly was.
"Tell Mitokado I'm sick today — I can't leave my office. Let Hiruzen deal with that fat bastard."
---
Hiruzen, meanwhile… was sleeping like a baby.
His mind had spent half the night chewing on the details Fugaku had dumped on him, so he'd fallen asleep far later than usual.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
A distant sound.
No response — only snoring and the soft ticking of the clock.
"Lord Third," someone called.
Nothing.
"H I R U Z E N!" the voice shouted this time.
Biwako, half-asleep herself, reached over and shook him gently. Hiruzen didn't even twitch.
"Danna…" she whispered. "My dear Danna…"
"Hm?" he hummed, still unconscious more than awake.
"Someone's calling you outside," she murmured.
"Hmmm."
"Dannaaa, someone's calling you," she said again, opening one eye.
"HMMMM."
Then, with the fury only a sleepy grandmother possesses:
"DANNA!"
Hiruzen bolted awake, practically levitating off the bed.
"What?!"
"Someone's calling for you," she said, already turning back over. "Probably Mitokado-san."
---
With a defeated sigh, Hiruzen dragged himself up and shuffled to the door.
Mitokado stood there, nightcap still on, eye bags deep enough to store weapons.
"What are you doing here, old man?" Hiruzen asked, voice tired but teasing.
"You have to receive a guest," Mitokado said flatly.
Hiruzen facepalmed. "At this hour? Tell the guest to come in the afternoon."
"It's the Pandit," Mitokado replied, completely deadpan.
"It's WHAT?" Hiruzen stiffened. "No, no, no. I am NOT seeing his face this early. Ask Danzo."
"I did. He's…" Mitokado paused, sighed deeply, "…sick."
Hiruzen slammed his fist lightly against the doorframe.
"Damn it."
"Can't you go receive that bald bastard, Homura?" Hiruzen complained, actually pouting like a child denied a toy.
"No sir… he's coming straight after meeting the Daimyō," Homura said, exhausted. "With a mountain of souvenirs. No one less than the Hokage can receive him."
Hiruzen's left eye twitched in disbelief.
With the defeated energy of a man walking to his own funeral, he turned back into his room and draped his Hokage robe over his shoulders. He picked up his hat — the one marked with the bold 'Ho' — and trudged out of the house, posture stiff with regret.
Homura merely shrugged and followed.
===
5:30 AM — Western Gate of Konoha
Inuzuka Moroha, the newly appointed clan head of the Inuzuka, stood at the gate.
Of all the prominent names in the village, he alone was unfamiliar with "the Pandit"—the… eccentric special guest of the Daimyō.
And for good reason.
Fugaku had been the first person asked to receive him — he immediately shut the door in the messenger's face.
Next was Hiashi.
Hiashi simply said, "Ask Fugaku," and closed the door.
The desperate messenger then attempted Kazahana Sarutobi, the eldest living son of Hiruzen and current Sarutobi clan head.
Kazahana sighed and said, "Just ask Moroha. He's new; he won't know better."
And so, here Moroha stood… waiting for a man no sane clan head wanted to deal with.
Through the morning mist, two figures appeared. Then a massive palanquin emerged behind them.
As the convoy approached, Moroha's eyes widened despite himself.
Eight absolutely jacked men, collared and chained together, carried a colossal lacquered wooden palanquin on their shoulders. The thing looked heavy enough to crush a bull.
Behind it trailed three horse-drawn carts under tarp. Moroha signaled his subordinates with a sharp gesture.
"Go sniff."
The Inuzuka shinobi and their hounds rushed over to inspect the carts.
Moroha himself approached the palanquin's side.
He cleared his throat. "Umm… Pandit-sama? You may come out now. You're in Konoha."
A smug, nasal voice answered from within:
"Hawe I arriwed at Khokage Towar?"
"No, Pandit-sama. You're at the gate right now. But the Hokage Tower isn't far."
"Zen I wonat com ouat zhust now," the Pandit replied. "Excuze me… wott is yar rrank?"
"I am an Elite Jōnin, sir. And a clan head."
"Ohhh… nice… wott claaaan?" the Pandit continued.
"Inuzuka, sir."
There was a wet, aggressive snort from inside the palanquin — and the Pandit spat out a wad of mucus.
Moroha reflexively dodged.
His jaw clenched, killing intent flaring for a split second before he smothered it.
S-ranked guest. S-ranked guest. S-ranked guest…
A moment later, the Pandit roared:
"WHY IZ ZA DOGG MANN KHERE?!"
Moroha quickly signaled his men, ordering them to escort the three wagons to the warehouse district in North-B as he did his breathing exercise to calm the overwhelming rage boiling up inside him.
He himself took position at the front, walking ahead of the massive palanquin as it slowly made its way toward the Hokage Tower.
---
Hiruzen stood at the gate, staring up at the pale morning sky with the expression of a man questioning every life choice that led him here.
What in my entire life did I do wrong… to deserve this? he wondered, dead inside.
His face was the perfect mixture of exhaustion, resentment, and the grim acceptance of doom.
Then he glanced down the road.
There, marching stiffly with a look of pure frustration, was Inuzuka Moroha — leading the palanquin like a man being forced to walk his own execution route.
Hiruzen facepalmed.
"Why would you send an Inuzuka…? Oh, Homura, you dumb old fossil," he muttered under his breath.
When the palanquin was finally lowered in front of Hiruzen, he whispered under his breath,
"Lord Buddha… be my aid."
He squeezed his eyes shut, composed himself, and then forced them open with the biggest, fakest smile imaginable — the kind that unsettled more than it reassured.
Then…
A fat, shaved leg emerged.
Then a hand.
And finally, a gleaming cue-ball head — polished so perfectly it reflected the lantern light straight into Hiruzen's eyes.
Hiruzen didn't change expression.
The guards behind him, however, nearly recoiled at the sight.
The cue-ball head tilted downward as the face beneath it slowly looked up at Hiruzen's artificial smile.
The Pandit stared for a long, uncomfortable moment…
Then stretched his lips into a smile even more disgusting than Hiruzen's.
The guards tried to smile but ended up trembling instead.
"Come on, Khiruzen… pick me up… my legs are numb," the Pandit muttered. Not loud, but loud enough — a clear signal.
Hiruzen absolutely received that signal.
And absolutely ignored it.
Like hell I'm picking you up… my back hasn't even settled yet…
The guards — Moroha included — were beginning to visibly recoil as Hiruzen and the Pandit maintained an excruciating fifteen-second stare-down.
Not a blink.
Not a twitch.
Just pure, concentrated cringe.
One of Hiruzen's young aides, Daichi, finally snapped.
Unable to endure the atmosphere any longer, he marched forward, grabbed the Pandit's hand before the man could react, and yanked him upright like a ragdoll.
The Pandit jolted, startled by the unexpected strength from a shinobi he didn't recognize. But what bothered him more was impurity. He immediately spat into his palm and wiped it aggressively on his black dhoti.
"Lord Mugen… how are you doing?" Hiruzen asked with the fakest diplomatic cheer he could muster.
"Gret, gret… wery gret doing," Mugen replied, showing yet another unsettling smile.
"Let's go inside," Hiruzen said, gesturing toward the gate as Daichi slid it open.
The Pandit released an overly refined, pretentious laugh and stepped through.
Before following, Hiruzen turned to Moroha and whispered a small, tired apology — the kind only an old man could deliver.
Moroha raised both hands and bowed slightly, accepting the gesture with humble resignation, then quietly backed away.
The two old men finally settled into the meeting hall and began conversing. After a few petty jokes from Mugen about commoners and his slaves, he finally got to business.
"Der is a repart abot da Minerral fond in da Frrost," Mugen said.
Hiruzen leaned his cheek on his fist, already tired of the man's voice.
"We know about that. My subordinate gave me the report yesterday," Hiruzen replied.
"Wery well… den yu shud know how mush Lord Daimyo wantes dem," Mugen said, baring a devious smile.
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed. "Does he not know that according to the International Law written at the First Five Kage Summit, this is forbidden?"
"Come on, Khiruzen… be beter. Dat is long-gone past," Mugen smirked.
Hiruzen continued calmly, "We also signed a charter with Kumo after the Second Great War. Rice and Frost were declared no-intervention lands."
Mugen swigged several mouthfuls of his premium whiskey, then leaned forward.
"Khiruzen… I respekt yu… yu arre Professorr… but we also know sum Shartar."
He wagged a finger.
"Killing a Gold Holzer… means waar. Your Gold Holzer… Ushiha Enzhi… your Elite Zhonin… killed by Montain guyz… dis mean waar."
Hiruzen facepalmed, disappointment hitting him like a boulder.
"DAICHI!" he shouted.
"Yes, Lord Hiruzen!" Daichi rushed in.
"Call the council of Elite Jōnin. To the council hall. NOW."
"Hai!"
Hiruzen rose to his feet, hands clasped behind his back. His posture was stiff, anger simmering just beneath the surface. Without another word, he left the meeting hall.
Mugen watched him go with a devious smile, thoroughly pleased with himself.
Daichi, on the other hand, was deflated. It was only his third day on the job, and he'd already been yelled at. He exhaled shakily, turned around—
—and froze.
In the span of a microsecond, Mugen had shifted from demon of the underworld…
to something that looked like a roadside transsexual performer posing for tips.
Daichi just stood there, horrified and speechless.
The expression Mugen made was so grotesque that Daichi genuinely felt violated for a moment.His soul recoiled.
He forced a nervous smile, bowed stiffly, and practically sprinted out of the room.