"You actually know the Spirit Transformation Technique? You've got sharp eyes," Uchiha Gen said, raising a brow.
"I saw it in the Anbu archives once," Suikazan Fuguki replied, frowning. "But I was in such a rush back then that I didn't think of it. Still… your Spirit Transformation Technique is different from what was recorded."
Gen's lips curled faintly. "Mine has no flaws."
Fuguki mulled that over, then gave a begrudging nod. "A body that moves freely, paired with the Flying Thunder God… no weaknesses, no openings. Impeccable! Is this also because of your strange ability to absorb souls?"
Gen didn't bother answering, only smiled. Fuguki took the silence as confirmation.
"Biwa Jūzō and Kisame Hoshigaki are valuable shinobi," Gen added casually. "Don't let them die. I'll have use for them later."
"…Understood."
"That's enough for tonight. If anything comes up, I'll send word. For now, return to your sweet dreams."
With that, Gen's soul slipped out of Fuguki's body. His true body stirred back in the Konoha camp, where he invoked the Flying Thunder God and reappeared instantly in his own bed.
The chaos he had stirred in the Mist camp? That was Fuguki's problem to clean up.
"Sweet dreams?" Fuguki muttered bitterly once control returned to him. "Sweet dreams my ass… there's no way I'll sleep tonight."
"Did you just say something about me?"
Whoosh. Uchiha Gen's figure shimmered back into existence in front of the bed, smiling faintly.
Fuguki nearly leapt out from under the sheets. He forced a stiff laugh. "No! No, nothing like that!"
"Then why the panic?" Gen's smile turned sharp, his eyes narrowing with a hint of danger.
"You...you appeared too suddenly, without warning! Of course I was startled. Don't be fooled by my size. Even though I'm the frontline commander, I'm actually very timid."
Fuguki's grin was painfully forced.
"Then you'd better start training your courage," Gen said lightly. "Being that timid won't do."
He hadn't actually intended to punish Fuguki—just intimidate him. He gave the man an easy way out.
"Yes, yes! I'll definitely practice," Fuguki said quickly.
Gen nodded once and vanished, leaving only the faint ripple of space behind.
"Phew…" Fuguki collapsed back onto his mattress, wiping cold sweat from his brow. Staring blankly up at the dark ceiling, he looked utterly defeated.
Back in his tent, Uchiha Gen settled onto his own bed, this time for real. Tomorrow he could afford to wake late, he was still growing, after all, and needed his rest.
Time passed like the sweep of a brush. Months slipped away in silence.
Even though Orochimaru and Gen deliberately held back the tempo of their offensives, Konoha steadily pressed the Mist into retreat. High, middle, and low-tier forces alike were tilted in Konoha's favor.
Thanks to Fuguki, the greatest mole within the Mist camp, Gen escalated his soul-harvesting plan aggressively. At first, one or two months showed little difference. But over several months, the disparity widened drastically.
If not for Obito continuously funneling Genin and Chunin into the meat grinder, the Mist front would already have collapsed entirely.
By then, Uchiha Gen had practically become the de facto commander. Orochimaru, having entrusted him with most affairs, lost himself in his experiments and research, scarcely surfacing.
Months later, war reports filtered back to Konoha, and certain eyes began watching with more than casual interest.
That night, the elder of the Sarutobi clan, Sarutobi Kōyō, quietly visited Danzo Shimura, then Homura Mitokado, and finally Utatane Koharu.
The following night, he made his way to Hiruzen Sarutobi's residence.
More than half a year had passed since the Nine-Tails' rampage. Reconstruction was nearly complete; the scars had faded, prosperity had returned. With fewer crises demanding his time, Hiruzen was home earlier than usual when word came of his elder's arrival.
The Hokage exhaled smoke from his pipe and frowned. "He's up to something again…"
Still, he went to the tea room. Kōyō rose respectfully and bowed. "Hokage-sama."
"Sit," Hiruzen said, waving casually.
They drank and chatted for a while before Kōyō cleared his throat. "Hokage-sama, I came to offer a suggestion."
"Here comes the main course," Hiruzen thought darkly. "Go on."
"I think it's time Shinnosuke trained elsewhere."
Hiruzen's brows rose. "Where?"
"The Land of Whirlpools."
In other words, send Shinnosuke to the Mist front to pluck the fruits of victory.
In the Land of Rice Fields, Shinnosuke had performed decently, barely holding back Kumogakure's offense, but it was nothing decisive. Both sides ground into stalemate.
By contrast, the Mist in Whirlpool had been fully suppressed by Konoha. Unless they escalated dramatically, it was only a matter of time before they withdrew. Whoever commanded when the Mist finally pulled back would carry home a shining military achievement.
"And Orochimaru?" Hiruzen asked, voice flat.
"Transfer him to the Rice Fields front. Kumogakure already knows his reputation, perhaps he can break the deadlock there."
Hiruzen's lips twitched. How could one man be so shameless?
"That's not appropriate. If I transfer Shinnosuke, what will others think?"
"It won't be you," Kōyō said smoothly, smiling. "The three Elders will step forward, appealing with emotion, pressuring with reason. You'll be forced into it. Your honor preserved, the clan's image intact."
Hiruzen hesitated. He was tempted, but not convinced.
Sensing the wavering, Kōyō leaned in with fervor. "As the saying goes, the capable must shoulder the burden. Shinnosuke cannot chew through Kumogakure's hard bones but Orochimaru can. With him, the war will end sooner, casualties lessened, the economy spared. Peace will return to Konoha sooner. All of this is for the village, for peace itself!"
His words burned with zeal.
Yes, it was unfair to Orochimaru. But the logic was difficult to dismiss.
If Orochimaru earned another great victory, the clamor for him as Hokage would grow unstoppable. But the man Orochimaru had become—dark, inscrutable, frightening—Hiruzen no longer trusted. Handing him the title of Hokage felt like handing Konoha into a snake's coils.
Konoha must not fall into the abyss on his watch. Better a successor whose heart he understood, even if that man was his own son.
At last, Hiruzen gave a slow nod. "I understand."
Kōyō's face lit with joy. The matter was decided.