While Saiki was busy launching his romantic offensives and managing his growing collection of "private cars," the urgent intelligence Jiraiya had penned last night reached Hiruzen Sarutobi's desk that morning.
After finishing the report, Hiruzen's brow was knitted into a tight, anxious knot. He wasn't surprised that Danzo had moved against Saiki; he would simply need to give his old friend a sharp warning later.
By "warning" Danzo, Hiruzen wasn't acting out of a sense of justice for Saiki. He simply wanted to remind Danzo: "I am the Hokage. I see everything you do. You are crossing the line into my territory."
The real source of Hiruzen's foul mood was Saiki himself. The boy's growth had far exceeded his most paranoid projections.
A ten-year-old child walking through a battlefield where Jonin died every second as if he were taking a casual stroll? Even a Hokage couldn't boast that level of effortless dominance.
Facing the Eight-Tails Jinchuriki and suppressing the beast single-handedly? If his sword hadn't failed and he hadn't been forced to protect Tsume, the Eight-Tails might have actually been defeated by a child.
Hiruzen had assumed Saiki would be weakened by his injuries, but the boy had returned from a week-long disappearance only to immediately slaughter four elite Root squads, destroy their facility, and cleave an entire mountain range in two.
Even Minato Namikaze—a man Hiruzen viewed as his ideal successor, a genius with a limitless future—had been stabbed by the boy. How was Hiruzen supposed to feel about that?
The emergence of such a titan in Konoha should have been a cause for celebration. But the problem was that Saiki wasn't "of the Leaf." He was an outsider with zero loyalty to the village—if anything, he seemed to harbor a distinct resentment toward the establishment. In Hiruzen's eyes, Saiki was a dangerously volatile nuclear variable.
After much deliberation, Hiruzen picked up the document again, double-checking every word as if he hoped he had misread the report.
But the facts were unchanged. The handwriting belonged to his student, Jiraiya. Hiruzen had to accept that this monster was real.
Hiruzen's wariness was entirely rational. Setting aside Saiki's lack of belonging, the sheer, god-like power he displayed at age ten was enough to make any leader feel the seat beneath them becoming unstable.
After witnessing Saiki's merciless slaughter of Root, Hiruzen had no doubt: if Konoha ever truly crossed Saiki, the boy wouldn't hesitate to turn his blade against the village itself.
After weighing the political and martial implications, Hiruzen made his decision: Saiki had to be recalled from the front lines immediately. He could not be allowed to earn any more glory or combat experience. Since he couldn't "solve" the problem of Saiki's loyalty, Hiruzen would "refrigerate" him—keep him locked away where he couldn't grow.
He believed that by placing Saiki directly under his own nose for constant surveillance, he could keep the boy from causing any trouble.
As for the possibility of Saiki resisting? Hiruzen, still in his prime, possessed the absolute confidence of a man who could handle any "brat."
Regarding the report that Saiki had defeated Minato? The intel clearly stated that the Flying Thunder God had been disrupted by a specialized, unknown jutsu. Minato had been caught off-guard by a niche counter. Hiruzen was confident that without the teleportation gimmick, he could easily crush Minato, and by extension, Saiki.
Hiruzen planned to recall Saiki to serve in the Anbu. On the surface, it was a prestigious promotion; in reality, it was a velvet-lined prison. The ages between ten and sixteen are a ninja's peak developmental period. If he could stall Saiki's growth during those years, the boy's talent would remain within manageable limits.
At the front lines, Saiki was entirely unaware that his days of slaughter were about to end, and that he was being summoned back to his "salted fish" life in the village.
However, things wouldn't be that simple. Saiki still had one more war to win.
In his reply to Jiraiya, the Hokage didn't just address Saiki and Root; he responded to the desperate request for reinforcements.
The recent Cloud night raid had inflicted severe damage on the Leaf's logistics. The supplies they had recently received were nearly exhausted. The camp was in dire need of fresh food, medicine, and armaments to prepare for the inevitable Cloud retaliatory strike.
Whether Hiruzen was genuinely calculating or just cold-hearted, he decided to squeeze one last drop of utility from Saiki before putting the "double-edged sword" back in its scabbard.
His reply to Jiraiya was brief: Supplies will arrive in two or three days. The official orders regarding Saiki Shiroya will be delivered with the convoy. Until then, proceed as planned.
Hiruzen's timing was perfect. Two days later, the Cloud launched a massive, coordinated offensive. Leading the charge once again were the A-B brothers, determined to wash away the humiliation of their failed night raid a week prior.
"Genhai, is your gear ready?" Saiki asked, preparing for the upcoming sortie after receiving the combat alert.
Though his hands were trembling slightly, Genhai shouted back, "All good, Boss! I'm ready for them!"
In the Academy, Genhai had been average at best. But the front lines had forced him to mature at a breakneck pace, both mentally and physically.
He currently wore a spiky hairstyle identical to Madara Uchiha's—though his was significantly shorter. Despite the lingering youth in his features, his face was set in a mask of hardened, combat-tested resolve.
"Good. Let's move," Saiki nodded with satisfaction.
Saiki had nothing to pack; for him, a single sword was his entire arsenal.
He waited for Genhai, who shoved a couple of extra kunai and explosive tags into his pouch. These were standard issue from the camp; Saiki refused to waste his own money on basic gear.
Once prepared, the two met up with Tsume and Kurenai before heading to the primary assembly point.
Ever since Shizune left the village with Tsunade, she had effectively become the Sannin's personal assistant. Although she was technically still a member of Saiki's squad, she was no longer assigned to frontline combat duty.
As a medical specialist, her role in logistics was far too valuable to risk in a trench—the same was true for Rin Nohara.
Before long, the force was assembled. Over twelve hundred Leaf ninja stood in the forest in absolute silence. Even their breathing was suppressed to a minimum. The air was heavy with a thick, suffocating aura of killing intent; the tension was a physical weight against the chest.
Within the ranks, Saiki's group stood directly behind their captain, Tsume. Their eyes were fixed on the command group positioned on a higher ridge: Jiraiya, Shikaku Nara, and the heads of the Uchiha and Hyuga units.
"Report! All units are present and accounted for, Lord Jiraiya!" a logistics officer shouted.
Jiraiya nodded, his gaze sweeping over the twelve hundred soldiers with a look of somber gravity. War was a terrifying thing. He knew that by sunset, a significant percentage of the men and women standing before him would be corpses. But a surprise strike was no longer an option.
The strategic layout had already been distributed; no further explanation was necessary. Jiraiya simply raised his voice into a roar. "Listen up! The Cloud are coming for our homes again! We cannot yield an inch of our soil! This battle is for the future of the Leaf and for our children! Even if our blood stains this earth, we will drive them back! FOR THE LEAF! VICTORY AT ALL COSTS!"
"DRIVE THEM BACK! VICTORY TO THE LEAF!"
...
Jiraiya's brief, fiery speech ignited the hearts of the ninja.
Watching the starry-eyed Genhai and Kurenai shouting with the crowd, Saiki just wanted to facepalm. This kid clearly hasn't listened to a word I've said. He felt a surge of helplessness. Can't you be a bit more cynical? Getting this excited is a great way to get yourself killed.
Saiki was the only one in the entire army who remained entirely detached. He felt no loyalty to the village; to him, this battle was just another high-stakes training session. There was no sense of "glory" in it for him.
"MOVE OUT!"
Swish!
Swish!
Swish!
At the command, the army of twelve hundred blurred into motion. Like a swarm of highly coordinated locusts, they leapt through the canopy, vanishing into the forest in the blink of an eye.