Eternal Yujin
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TCoH—Chapter 3.37 [60]
🕑 Added 2025-05-09 15:27:46 +0000 UTC- - -
Chapter 3.37 [60]
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I left T&I the next day after my return with a plainly dressed but otherwise unreadable retainer in Haku. Since my last visit, they’d outfitted her in a kimono far too large for her frame, pale lilac and trimmed in white, the sleeves drooping like wilted petals. It looked ceremonial, almost mocking in how soft and quiet it was—nothing like the combat-ready clothes she’d worn before.
Her hair had been brushed straight and tied back with a bright red ribbon. A ribbon. Granted, it didn’t look bad on her, but she seemed embarrassed at the getup.
“They made you look like a priestess,” I said finally, eyes forward.
“I think that was the point,” she replied.
I glanced her way for a moment before taking stock of the situation. Jiraiya had told me before I walked off that they’d be in the Medical Division offices for the foreseeable future while Tsunade assumed her old position, conveniently placed behind the actual general hospital. But going straight there with Haku was a bit… well, I’d have some explaining to do for sure, not to mention the endless well of jokes that her presence would be for Jiraiya.
And probably Tsunade.
Though the faint press of the envelope that I’d found amongst the letters that had piled up since I’d last been home was a reminder of the more important topic at hand.
“Where are we going?” Haku asked, seemingly out of nowhere.
“Oh… uh, the Medical Division building. I’ve got someone I need to talk to there.”
“And afterwards?” she asked.
I took a moment before answering. “Home. I’ll probably have to move to accommodate you and Karin.”
“Karin?”
“My… cousin?” She took that knowledge on with a look that said she didn’t believe me, so I explained, “We’re part of the same clan, but I don’t actually know who her family was. So, I’ve taken to calling her my cousin since we share the same last name.”
“You’re part of a clan as well.”
“As far as I know, my clan’s sort of been annihilated, so we’ve got that in common too.”
She snorted at that, which was a good sign, seeing she’d been held in an interrogation facility for two weeks. “Naruto… can I call you Naruto?”
“I don’t know what else you’d call me,” before she could even acknowledge that, I interrupted the thought I could see behind her eyes, “And if the word ‘Master’ or anything adjacent to it exits your mouth, I will jump off this ledge headfirst.”
A laugh escaped her lips then, and she quickly looked ahead at the next roof before composing herself. “In any case, I wouldn’t want to place an unnecessary financial burden on you by having you move. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor until I save enough from my wage to find a place of my own to call home.”
“It wouldn’t be any burden, seeing that it’s my parents’ home. It’s got like nine rooms anyway, and I’ve not had any reason to move out of my one-room apartment till now.”
Haku cleared her throat. “Your… parents?”
“Who are dead, yes. I didn’t think we’d have to go through our disguise conversation again, you know.”
“No, it’s not that,” she said. “I know who your mother is because of her… temporary resurrection?”
I nodded. “That fits.”
“Who’s your father?”
I looked down at my flak jacket and its white sleeves with a frown. “You’ll find out in a few days, even if I don’t tell you, but since you asked, my father’s the Fourth Hokage.”
She blinked once, and in real time, I watched her gaze arc towards Hokage Mountain, growing ever closer as we flitted across the rooftops. “The…”
“Minato Namikaze, yes. The same man this village’s enemies fearfully called the Yellow Flash.”
“...I see.”
“I’ll give you points for how quickly you absorbed that,” I said. “The people here are caught halfway between delusion and the struggle to accept that fact.”
“Meaning?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just muttering. Do you want to come in with me, or are you going to stay outside?”
“Which would you prefer?”
I stopped at the edge of the building, a street across from the hospital. Even at this hour, it was still busy, which was to be expected given it was the village’s main hospital. But even then, the place was chock-full of people injured in the Sand and Sound’s invasion, shinobi and otherwise.
“Was it that obvious that I didn’t want you to come?” I asked.
Haku shrugged. “Your face falls into a frown every time you stop talking, so I made an educated guess.”
I forced my face into a more neutral position and fished through my pockets for a notebook and, once I’d found it, a pen. “Okay, here,” I said, ripping a scribbled-on page free. “This is my address. If I spend more than half an hour in there, feel free to just head here and wait, fix yourself a cup of tea, whatever really.”
Haku didn’t look very enthused with that fact, but gingerly took the paper and keys out of my hands anyway.
“Don’t pretend you haven’t been here before,” I said over my shoulder. “At this point, you know your way around this village just as well as any local.”
Just before I took the plunge, I took a decent bit of satisfaction in the embarrassment on her face at sneaking around this place, because eventually, it’d got her caught.
I took the stairs down from the roof and crossed the street at a jog, merging with the foot traffic that filtered in and out of the main hospital entrance. The outer lobby of the hospital smelled like antiseptic and wet paper. I passed the front desk without slowing down, waving politely at a chunin in nurse whites who looked a little too tired to care that I wasn’t limping or bleeding.
A few visiting civilians glanced at the flak jacket tucked under my arm, but no one stopped me.
The Medical Division didn’t share the main reception space. I had to cut left past the lift and down a hallway lined with bulletin boards and sign-up sheets—volunteer postings, vaccination reminders, and whatnot—before finding a directory mounted to the wall.
Third floor, left wing.
I took the stairs instead of waiting for the lift. One flight up. The stairwell was brighter than expected, full of natural light from tall, narrow windows, and I had enough time to flip my notebook shut and tuck it into the pouch at my hip. My legs didn’t even burn, which felt like progress after spending a week sitting through debriefs and chakra recovery checks.
On the third floor, the hallway opened into a wider corridor with polished floors and open doors that let in the gentle murmur of conversation. A medical-nin in a dark green coat walked past me holding a clipboard, so I caught her attention with a polite nod.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I’m looking for the Medical Division offices. I was told to check in with—”
“Oh, you’re Uzumaki,” she said, flipping the clipboard around. “They said you’d be by.” She gestured down the hall. “Second door on your right, past the herb storage. You’ll hear them before you see them.”
I nodded, muttered a thanks, and kept walking. Sure enough, by the time I reached the right door, I could already hear Tsunade’s voice behind it—half-lecturing, half-instructing, fully tired of whatever she was being made to repeat.
I knocked once and opened the door.
Tsunade didn’t look up.
She stood at the far end of the room, arms braced on the counter, jaw set tight. The room smelled like alcohol and ink—whatever she’d been drinking, whatever she’d been signing. Jiraiya glanced back at me from the corner, cup in hand, and gave a small shrug that said good luck.
Tsunade’s voice was low. “If it’s Danzo, turn around and walk back out before I put you through the wall.”
“It’s me,” I said.
She finally looked. Her eyes were bloodshot. Not from crying—Tsunade wasn’t the type to cry over something she didn’t really want in the first place. “I expected you a day earlier.”
I stepped inside and shut the door. “Sorry, but I wasn’t in the mood for swinging by after talking with Danzo.”
“You were quiet during that mess at the gate,” she said.
“I figured you’d say everything I was thinking.”
Her mouth twitched. Not a smile. Not quite.
Jiraiya moved to one side to let me pass, then sank into the chair nearest the window. “He’s already sent a messenger to this place declaring that Tsunade is head of the Medical Division again,” he said. “Probably wants it on record that he gave her the title himself.”
“Didn’t he?” I asked with a raise of my brow.
Tsunade snorted. “He can write whatever he wants. It’s not binding. Not until I say it is.”
She turned back to the counter. Papers were spread out. A few had her signature already on them.
I took a step closer. “Are you actually going to agree?”
“I’ll sign the parts I want,” she muttered. “The rest he can choke on.” She rubbed at her temple, then looked over at me. “What do you want, kid?”
I pointed at Jiraiya, who until now had been content to lounge in an armchair and drink. “You guys first. He’s the one who told me to come after I was done with my Danzo meeting.”
“How was that, by the way?” Jiraiya asked.
“He’s going to announce my identity to everyone,” I replied with a frown of my own to boot. “Quite frankly, I don’t like the amount of power he has over me as Hokage. Is there anything I can do about that—some distance between me and him will do wonders for our newfound… relationship?”
Tsunade hunched over her desk, leaning on the palms of her hands with a smug look on her face. “...There is one thing.”
“What?” Jiraiya asked.
“Be like me.”
“An alcoholic with a gambling problem?” I asked with a smile.
Jiraiya made the mistake of snorting, and she lobbed a pen at his head hard enough that it broke on impact. I leaned forward in worry, only to spot that it hit his faceguard instead of his actual face.
“No,” she replied with a deep exhale. “A clan head.”
I snorted. “I don’t even think the Leaf has an Uzumaki clan. And who would I be the clan leader for? Karin?”
“You said you wanted some distance between yourself and Danzo, right?” Jiraiya asked. “That’d be one way to do it. However, he’s right, princess. It’s not like he can become a clan leader without an actual clan. Your situation’s pretty unique, seeing that you’re the last Senju and all.”
“He can still apply. There are just a couple of prerequisites,” she said. “The first is some kind of hijutsu or bloodline ability to pass down. You’ve got that covered right off the bat. Next, you need to be a jonin. Difficult, but you can do it in the next few years. The final requirements are the approval of five Leaf clans, having a minimum of three clan members, and the stamp of approval from the Hokage. Though something tells me Danzo won’t stand against your desire to do a good thing for the Leaf.”
“Too bad, kid,” Jiraiya said. “Between you and Karin, I count two… and unless you want to be a father, I reckon you’ll have to wait a little longer before establishing your clan.”
“Not an option,” I said without a moment’s hesitation. And then, noticing the wicked smile on his face, added, “I’m not having a kid just to set up a clan.”
Tsunade sighed. “Then I’m afraid you’ll have tough things out until you can get that box checked.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “You said three clan members, right? Would a retainer count as that third member?”
“A retainer? I… yes, I’m pretty sure they do. Jiraiya?”
He folded his arms. “Where would you even get one… wait a damned second, is that why you asked me about retainers? What the hell did you even talk to Danzo about? Did he offer you a retainer? Because if you took his offer, congratulations, you’ve just given him an open-door policy into your life.”
“You’ll rarely find me agreeing with Jiraiya, kid, but this is one of those times,” Tsunade said. “You don’t strike me as a numbskull, so why’d you do it?”
“Relax, she’s not one of Danzo’s people. She was Zabuza Momochi’s… student? Subordinate? I ran into her on a C-rank and then caught her sneaking into the village afterwards,” I said. “Long story short, Zabuza’s thrown her away, and Danzo strong-armed me into taking her on a retainer because her other options were pretty grim.”
“And she’s okay with this?” Jiraiya asked.
Tsunade rolled her eyes. “Do you think whether or not she’s okay with it matters? You know what life’s like for captured kunoichi, particularly ones with bloodline abilities. She one of them?”
“Ice. Her other options were worse,” I replied with a grimace. “I would let her go, but if I did, there’s a very real chance that she’ll kill herself; she’s already tried to.”
Tsunade’s expression was totally unreadable.
“Fucking hell. A Yuki too?” Jiraiya said.
“So… does she count?”
He scratched the crown of his head. “If she’s your retainer, then yeah. Talk about a fall from grace for what was one of the Mist’s founding clans.”
My shoulders suddenly felt an entire ten times lighter, even if this wouldn’t come into effect for a while, it was still better than nothing. Short-term, it would loosen the leash around my neck… but in the long term, becoming a clan leader would give me some level of pull depending on how much I contributed to the village.
Until then, my parents, being who they were, would be a welcome shield to hide behind.
“Well, now that we’ve figured out how you’ll escape that old bastard’s influence, check this out,” she said, sliding an opened envelope across the desk.
I slipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out a matching note. “I was actually meaning to talk to you about that, to be honest.”
Jiraiya and I shared a glance before he reached for it and pulled the hidden note within it out.
The writing was crisp, written by someone used to writing in ways that couldn’t be misread:
“You are cordially invited to a private dinner at Yakiniku Q hosted by Lord Hiashi Hyuuga in honour of Lady Tsunade’s return and the valour of the next generation during the recent defence of the village.”
Tsunade tapped the table with one finger. “Keep reading.”
“Intended guests: heads of clans and their clan heirs only,” Jiraiya said with a low whistle. “Hiashi Hyuuga doesn’t throw parties unless there’s a reason. He’s been careful since the Cloud debacle. No way he’d do this unless a few other clan heads were already on the same page—they’ve been planning this for a while.”
“They’re worried,” Tsunade added. “You saw the greeting party Danzo sent. He’s making moves—public ones. I’d bet this is the other side, figuring out how to keep him in check.”
“And they want me there?”
“Slow down your horses, kid. You haven’t even checked off the jonin requirement on that, but yes. Look, I’ve been back a day, and even I know the rumours surrounding you. I bet that Hiashi Hyuuga wants to get his hands on you early.”
“Get his hands on me, how?”
She leaned over and ruffled my hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they don’t rope you into something stupid. Besides Shizune, you’re my only surviving family after all, and it’s not like they can complain when half of this dinner is being thrown for me.”
I turned the card over in my hand as if it might tell me more. “What should I expect?”
“A lot of posturing. A lot of polite insults. You’ll probably get to see all your little friends and have some of the best food you’ve had in months, though.”
“Pity I can’t come,” Jiraiya grumbled. “The downsides of being an actual penniless orphan.”
I patted his shoulder. “From rich orphan to poor orphan, you have my condolences.”
He wiped a faux tear from his eyes and finished his drink. “...Thank you.”
“Alright. I’ll be there.”
Tsunade raised an eyebrow. “With your Karin?”
“Should I bring her?”
“You’d be able to test the idea of a potential Uzumaki clan to everyone in the know and see whose votes you might get, but I wouldn’t do it. The invitation specifies clan heirs and clan heads. That you’re being invited at all probably means that the Leaf clans are aware you’ll be setting a clan up anyway.”
I sighed. “Alright. I’ll meet you… where should I meet you?”
“Opposite the hospital at quarter to eight—and don’t wear your flak jacket. You’ll look like you’re trying too hard.”
I frowned. “I’m not a moron. Sasuke, Lee, Neji, and Choji are getting promoted and are going to be there. I don’t think they’ll be wearing their jackets.”
“Good,” she said. “Then get out of here and start preparing. And if you see Danzo—”
“I’ll smile real wide,” I said. “Make him nervous.”
“Perfect. And don’t forget to wear something formal.”
“Show him all your teeth,” Jiraiya said just as I closed the door.
The thought made me smile, even if it’d just lead to another etiquette lesson.
———————————
“No, no, no!”
Upon hearing the dismayed cry, I swallowed my annoyance and ceased whatever I was doing to look around instead. Garments of all kinds of colours and several layers of formal wear were draped around me. The shop itself was just barely wider than an alleyway, but it felt so much smaller because of all of the clothes, and coupled with the owner’s fussing, I was starting to grow just slightly annoyed at nothing in particular.
I only stayed because of my pride and the fact that Tsunade had recommended this shop, along with giving me the money to buy said clothes anyway.
“You’ve tied the obi all wrong! The thicker side must be on top… though your kimono is finally arranged suitably this time!”
I immediately looked for the unabashed snort at the man’s reprimand, even as he yanked off my red kimono alongside the gold obi just to redo it again. Karin and Haku sat on a low bench against the only open wall in the shop. The former wore a black haori, patterned with thin red flowers over a red kimono tied together by an orange belt. The latter, meanwhile, wore a dark green haori over a muted teal kimono with a hint of a white juban peeking through the collar.
Both were worn perfectly… unlike mine.
Karin was openly laughing, but at least Haku had the decency to hide her smile behind her hand.
In all honesty, I didn’t feel bad at all about stressing out the old man in charge of the shop. His immediate agreement and insistence that my kimono be free of charge was evidence enough that the good treatment was because of who I was. Ironically, that same reason would have had me tossed out of his shop earlier. His behaviour was just a precursor of the sort of thing I’d have to deal with after this week, and I loathed it.
I couldn’t say I much preferred the poor treatment, but at least it was honest compared to whatever this was.
“Venerable customer,” he began, thinning the annoyance out of his voice. “I won’t presume to dress you with my hands, but my instructions were—rather, I hope my instructions were clear.”
I saw Karin mouth the words “venerable customer” before biting her knuckle to stop herself from laughing even more.
“Fortunately,” I replied. “I’ve never worn one of these before, so all these finicky rules over what to put over where and why are… difficult to deal with. Those aside, this is pretty comfortable, even if I’m wearing it over a tank top and some joggers. Believe me, I’m not doing this on purpose.” Old age had bent the old man’s back until he was shorter than me. I stared down at his mostly balded grey head with no small amount of embarrassment. “Could you give me the instructions for the obi one more time?”
He took a deep breath, which was as much a sign as anything of just how frustrating this was—for both him and me.
Before he could reply, I felt a gentle shift in the air behind me.
“I can help,” Haku offered, standing up with the kind of quiet grace that somehow didn’t disturb a single fold of her perfectly arranged clothing. She stepped forward, hands lightly resting at her sides, and gave the shop owner a small, polite nod. “If that’s alright, sir?”
The old man blinked at her for a moment, then nodded gratefully. “If you would, young miss—yes, by all means.”
I turned slightly, blinking. “Haku, seriously, you don’t have to—”
“It’s not a problem,” she said, already reaching for the length of gold fabric. Her fingers moved confidently. “Besides, you’ll be standing here another hour otherwise and then we’ll be late.”
I exhaled through my nose but didn’t argue. I’d already looked foolish enough today—worse to double down on it. Haku circled behind me, lifting the obi and smoothing it out with practised care. Letting someone wrap something around your waist while you’re standing there like a scarecrow wasn’t exactly easy to get used to.
I held my breath at first, too aware of her movements, the closeness, and the soft rustle of silk and cotton.
“You’re stiff,” she said quietly, tying the first knot. “Relax.”
“You’re literally tying a belt around my ribs.”
“And you’re acting like it’s a noose,” she said, a smile in her voice.
Karin cackled from her seat. “Do you want me to get a camera? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“Do not get a camera,” I said without even turning around.
Haku laughed under her breath, the sound light and brief. “Done,” she said, stepping back.
I blinked. “That’s it?”
“Try moving.”
I did. Shifted my weight. Rolled a shoulder. It felt… good. Balanced. Secure but not suffocating. Not like earlier, when everything kept sliding or pinching or looking like it had been arranged by a blindfolded child. The pressure of the obi even helped anchor the rest of the kimono while keeping its general looseness.
“…Okay. That’s actually way better.”
“Told you,” Haku said, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from her haori before sitting back down.
The shopkeeper crossed his arms and gave a sage little nod. “Much improved. A fine job, young lady. Perhaps now our venerable customer will see the value in careful instruction.”
I sighed. “Yeah, yeah. What’s next?”
“Allow me. Spread your arms,” the old man said, circling me with my white haori and putting in for me with a great deal of care. Then, he returned, latching the two sides of the haori together with a red jacket-string.
Karin was grinning like a fox when I turned to face them. “At least you’re dressed like a venerable customer now.”
Haku’s lips twitched again, but she kept her composure. “It suits you.”
Instead of replying and giving Karin more fuel to tease me with, I paid the old man for the two girls’ kimono. Honestly, I hadn’t expected her to be so open seeing that she’d only met Haku today… but the past few weeks in the Leaf seemed to have done her some good in that regard.
We arrived opposite the hospital at quarter to eight, just as the sun dipped low enough to light the rooftops in gold. The streets were still busy, but quieter here—and so long as they weren’t patients themselves, people gave the building a wide berth, like they always did, half-respecting and half-fearing whatever went on inside.
Tsunade was already waiting.
She stood with her arms crossed, dressed in a pale cream kimono with green trim and her usual green haori thrown over it, except this one had the symbol of the Senju clan embroidered into the back. Her hair was pinned up, looser than usual, and for once, she didn’t look like she’d just walked out from under a barrel of sake.
She glanced me up and down. “You clean up better than I expected.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?
She spotted the two behind me. “One of you is the retainer, and it’s probably not you, Red.”
Karin’s shyness returned with all the intensity of a raging flush on her face. “N-No, ma’am—”
Tsunade laughed.
“She’s Karin Uzumaki,” I said, taking pity on her despite her winding me up for the past hour.
She looked at Haku, gaze narrowing, thoughtful. “So, you’re the retainer.”
Haku bowed slightly. “Yes, Lady Tsunade.”
“No need for that,” Tsunade waved it off. “I don’t imagine you’re coming since the invitation specifically said not to bring retainers.”
Haku looked back at me with a questioning frown.
I shifted, adjusting the wide-sleeved haori I still wasn’t used to. “No, the kimono was a nice gesture from me, neither of them are coming.”
Tsunade’s smile made me want to look away from her, but I knew that if I did, she’d start teasing me, and so, I smiled back.
“Just remember what this is,” she said eventually. “A show of unity. You’re not here to speak unless spoken to, and if someone throws a barb, you either eat it or toss it back with a smile. You might be with me, but some of those clan kids might see you as a nobody—especially given your rep as a Jinchuriki, and the rumours will only make that worse.”
“Just a sec,” I said, gesturing Tsunade in. “Look, I was thinking of bringing this up earlier, but I didn’t, so I’ll do it now.”
“What is it?”
“I think you and Jiraiya should take in students. Officially, unofficially, it doesn’t matter, but I think the two of you know a lot of things that people can benefit from… and I know people who’d benefit. It’s not fair that I’m the only one who gets to learn from you when I know people who’d take to it even better.”
She looked at me for a long moment, but when I didn’t break eye contact, she sighed long and hard. “...Give me a list of names and I’ll see what I can do. I was planning on looking for someone to replace Shizune. It’s about time she spreads her wings, so I might as well teach a few up-and-comers and see if anyone’s good enough to replace her.”
“What about Jiraiya?” I asked. “Something tells me he won’t be easy to pin down.”
“Just leave him to me.”
Tsunade turned to Karin and Haku before she walked off. I watched as she fished through her purse and handed them a wad of notes. “Go and have some fun. It’d be a shame to go home after buying clothes like that.”
I smiled. “Why weren’t you this nice to me, huh?”
“Don’t slouch,” she said as she walked off, “and whatever you do—don’t trip over your damn hem.”
“Not planning to,” I said, adjusting my stride as I fell into step beside her. “We’re not all you.”
She gave a little choked noise but otherwise said nothing. I looked back, expecting Haku and Karin to at least wave, but they were already walking off, cash in hand.
The restaurant stood out only because it didn’t try to. Plain wooden walls. Modest paper lanterns, despite the multiple stories. It was a place everyone had been to before. People were already filtering in when we arrived. Some stood in small clusters just inside the entrance, murmuring greetings. Others—namely Akimichi—moved through the space with a quiet kind of ease, like they’d been here before and knew exactly where to find the appetisers.
Probably because they did.
Children stuck close to their parents at first, until someone pushed them forward, nudging introductions like they were easing shy deer into a clearing. A boy around my age bowed stiffly to a girl with sharp eyes and hair tied in a bun. They didn’t say much. The girl’s mother made a pleased sound in the back of her throat like she was already imagining the wedding.
Tsunade didn’t announce herself. A few older clan heads looked up the moment we stepped inside, and though no one called out her name, the way the room shifted, just slightly, just enough, told me they’d seen her.
She steered me around the room. “Come on. Stay close.”
It was easy advice to follow, since everyone we passed looked like they were trying not to stare. Not because of her. Not entirely. There was a hush to the way people looked at me, like they weren’t sure if they were supposed to. Like saying my name too loudly might get them dragged into something.
One woman elbowed her husband as we passed. He glanced at me, then at Tsunade—his eyes lingering just a second too long. He leaned in to whisper something that made her purse her lips and nod. Tsunade took her seat in the welcoming area like she’d been here all alongand I settled beside her.
A few people passed and offered greetings—not quite deferential, but not casual either. She kept her replies brief and almost warm. Someone dropped off a tray of dumplings without saying a word, though Tsunade didn’t touch them. People started introducing their children, gently herding them across the floor to meet other kids they probably didn’t remember. Some tried to spark conversations. Others just gave polite bows and shuffled back.
That was the rule that Lord Third had established, after all. Don’t ask. Don’t confirm. Don’t name the Fourth. Not unless you were ready to answer for it. But the room was humming with said question. It was almost like I could see the whispers caught on the beams above us.
Tsunade sat straighter than usual, sake untouched. Her arms rested loosely on the table, but there was nothing relaxed about her. People approached in waves—never more than two or three at a time—offering carefully measured pleasantries.
“Lady Tsunade,” said a grey-haired man with sharp eyes, bowing slightly. “The Fuma clan is honoured to see you returned.”
“You lot always did know how to survive on your own,” she said with a nod, her voice dry. “Even through the massacre.”
The man gave a thin smile and moved on. His son, older than me by a few years, lingered only a moment, eyeing me like he couldn’t decide if I was worth remembering. Then came a more familiar face: Choza Akimichi. Broad-shouldered and kind-eyed, he made his way to us with Choji.
“Lady Tsunade,” Choza greeted, bowing more deeply than the others had. “And Naruto. You’ve grown since I last saw you.”
“Good to see you again, Choza,” Tsunade said. She didn’t stand, but her tone was warm this time. “Didn’t think you’d be the first to make the rounds.”
Choza chuckled. “We Akimichi like to get to the food before anyone else gets clever.” His hand fell lightly to his son’s shoulder. “This is Choji, my son.”
Choji gave a sheepish nod. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Polite,” she said with a raise of her brow. “You’re Naruto’s teammate, right?”
“Under Asuma Sarutobi,” he replied.
“Speaking of, where is he? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“I’m right here,” his voice came from directly behind us, and when I looked, he stood behind Tsunade’s chair with a smile on his face. “Been a while, huh?”
Tsunade snorted. “You’re almost as tall as Jiraiya.”
“Close enough, anyway.” I felt his hand descending onto my head and leaned out of the way. “What? Your hair’s messy enough as it is, Naruto. Nothing I do will mess it up more.”
“But you see, I don’t want my hair smelling like cigarettes,” I replied.
Tsunade laughed. “Looks like you picked up your old man’s filthy habits.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m happy you didn’t get the hat,” he said. “It would’ve made you miserable.”
Her smile was small and a little sad. “Maybe, but I guess we’ll never know.”
“Listen… I need a favour,” he began, only to lean in close enough to her that I couldn’t hear what was said over the room’s ambient noise.
“...I’ll do it first thing tomorrow,” was Tsunade’s reply and after attempting to pat my head once more, Asuma wandered off.
My eyes returned to Choza and Choji, who were still here.
“I’ll see you upstairs, right?” I asked my friend.
Choji nodded.
“See you upstairs too,” Tsunade said to Choza, who repeated the same gesture before he steered Choji away.
“Uzumaki.”
I looked up to find Shikaku Nara standing just to the side, one hand in his pocket. Shikamaru stood next to him with the same lazy posture.
Shikaku nodded to Tsunade, then tilted his head at me. “You know, you’re looking more like Minato than when you were a kid these days.”
My spine went stiff, but Tsunade beat me to it. “Careful, Shikaku. You know the rule.”
“I didn’t say anything that’s not already in every whispered corner of the village. At this point, abiding by it is a drag.” He turned to her. “This is my son, Shikamaru, by the way.”
Shikamaru sighed. “This feels like a waste of time.”
“Well, I know which parent he takes after,” Tsunade replied with a small laugh. “Unfortunately for you, kid, you’ll be forced into a ton more of these meetings as you get older—enjoy it.”
Someone else approached. A Hyuuga this time—but not Hiashi. A younger man, his eyes pale and impassive. He bowed to Tsunade first, then to me.
“My cousin sends his regards,” he said. “He’s greeting the Aburame now and sent me in his stead.”
“Tell Hiashi I’ll speak to him when he’s done playing host,” Tsunade said, flicking her hand as if to wave him off.
He bowed again, and his gaze passed over me briefly with the same look you’d give a mark on paper before he turned away.
“You know, one of my best friends is a Hyuuga, but I’ll never not find their stares unnerving.”
“Just give it time,” Tsunade said, reaching for her sake at last, finally taking a sip. “They’ll get used to you—or at least, they’ll stop thinking you’re worth watching.”
“Encouraging,” I said.
She gave me a sidelong glance. “Get used to it. This is what clan politics feel like. Silence, smiles, and someone always watching to see if you slip.”
“I guess slipping up would be like falling on your sword,” I said. “Except instead of taking it out, they stab it even deeper if it benefits them.”
“An interesting analogy, but you’re not wrong,” Tsunade said. “In any case, if you do slip up, don’t sweat too much. You don’t matter enough for anything you do to be a massive problem.”
“Lovely,” was my reply, to which she snorted.
And with that, I reached out for a dumpling and watched the room as the introductions wound down.
———————————
The side hall upstairs was buzzing—less formal than the main one, seeing they’d shoved it full of kids, but no less tense. Younger clan heirs filled the tables, some dressed like they were at court, others like they were trying to look like they didn’t care. A few heads turned when I came in. I clocked Shikamaru almost instantly—seated with Choji, Ino, and Hinata at a curved table near the middle.
Sasuke was right beside them at a table of his own where just over half a dozen girls were taking turns talking his ear off. He met my eyes and gave the faintest nod, almost like he’d been waiting.
Ino’s face lit up when she saw me. Choji waved. Hinata smiled, composed as ever, and inclined her head. Kiba, already loud in a corner of his own, barked out my name and raised a cup. Beside him, and not actually wearing those glasses of his for once, Shino nodded once, which was about right for him.
There were a few empty spots near the centre table—just beside what I’d taken to calling the Sasuke Table—left open like the people around weren’t sure if they belonged there… or if they just didn’t want to commit to saying otherwise.
“Take it,” Shikamaru said with a snort. “Before someone annoying does.”
I sat down.
“Didn’t think the help was invited,” said a voice. A boy a little older than me, fancy robes, hair slicked down like he’d used too much oil. Fuma crest, embroidered in white. “Did Lady Tsunade take pity upon you or something?”
I gave him a look. “See, I didn’t think you’d speak without permission, so I suppose we’re all defying expectations today. I’m Naruto Uzumaki, by the way. You?”
He flushed, and I watched Ino stifle a snort. “I know who you are!”
A different kid—Kurama, if I remembered right by the emblem—spoke up, smoother. “Takumi Kurama; nice to meet you. We were talking about the exams,” he said. “Performance. Results. Mission counts. Clan honours.”
“I’ve got everything but the clan honours, I’m afraid,” I said with a smile. “I’ll work on that dutifully.”
Takumi Kurama at least found my joke funny, which helped to thaw things out. But in record time, an Onikuma boy raised an eyebrow in my direction and didn’t bother to hide his derision. “And your clan? Who claims the merit?”
“I suppose I could say Tsunade Senju, but for the sake of quelling all rumours, no, she is not my mother. In any case, does it really matter?”
There was a pause. Not disbelief. Just recalibration.
“So, the Fourth, then. Is he… actually your father?”
The question came from someone young, too young to know better than to say it aloud. The hush that followed was sharp and immediate—like the whole room had been holding its breath for someone else to say it first.
I didn’t look at Shikamaru, or Ino, or even Sasuke.
“You’d think,” I said, casually, “that if I was, someone would've told me.” I smiled, and it was all teeth. “If you hear anything, do let me know.”
Someone else tried to brush past it. “Anyway, the Hokage’s policy is gonna matter more than any individual action anyway. Lord Fifth is putting people to work. Less talk, more results. Real shinobi work. Not just name and glory long gone.”
“Funny,” I said. “Isn’t he all about that long-gone glory?”
“Some of us think he’ll outdo the Fourth, who was all potential but no payoff—and as dear as Lord Third was to all of us… he retired long ago,” another girl said, smiling thinly. I couldn’t tell what clan she was from but it was clearly one allied with Danzo. “Lord Fifth will finally get us back to where we used to be.”
“What it was must’ve sucked,” I said. “If that’s the goal. I mean, doesn’t anyone want to be better? And you say we’re clinging to the past now…” Sasuke hid his snort behind a clearing of his throat and Shikamaru didn’t even bother hiding the grin. “Since we’re all feeling competitive, how about we talk missions? Has anyone done anything more than a C-rank yet?”
There was a shuffle, a few awkward glances, and a few raised hands. Despite the obvious frustration on Kiba’s face—somehow, he managed to show more irritation through a single eye than he ever managed to do with two—he calmed down once Ino and Shikamaru gave a shake of their heads.
Choji raised his hand halfway, looking uncomfortable. Hinata raised hers too. Of course, so did I, along with Sasuke. No one from the more known clans raised a hand higher. Not the Kurama boy. Not the Onikuma kid. Not even the Fuma girl.
Said girl with the too-slick smile looked like she wanted to say something, but didn’t.
“What about B-rank?” I asked, leaning forward, tone pleasant. “A-rank?”
There might as well have been crickets chirping at this point.
“I’ve got one of those,” I added. “Might be getting another one on my record thanks to Lord Fifth.”
As much as praising Danzo felt sour on my tongue, if it meant shutting up these irritating young master types, I’d do it ten times over. I wasn’t usually one to boast, but if I didn’t, something told me I’d spend the evening defending myself against potshots and snide comments.
Takumi Kurama cleared his throat. “...Perhaps we should talk about the invasion. Something we all have in common, no?”
I could see the olive branch for what it was. A subtle acknowledgement that wouldn’t step over the toes—or egos—of all the irritating kids here. I looked at the orange-haired, green-eyed boy on Sasuke’s table with a measure of respect.
He at least was worth considering compared to some here.
Takumi Kurama’s olive branch didn’t make everything friendly, but it cracked the surface. Smoothed the edge off the night. Maybe it was a relief that someone had said something that wasn’t just posturing. Or maybe it was that half the kids in here had parents breathing down their necks about respect and decorum, and they knew a full-on fight wouldn’t fly.
Either way, it gave just enough space to breathe.
“The invasion,” I echoed, casually, letting my fingers tap the table. “Yeah. Hell of an afternoon.”
Understatement of the year.
Takumi nodded. “My cousin was in the hospital for a week. She was in the market square when the summons hit. Almost got trampled.”
That got a few murmurs of agreement. Everyone had a story, and not just the ones we’d brag about. Even the most pampered of clan kids had been caught off-guard by the chaos. Some had fought. Some had run. Some were still pretending they hadn’t hidden under a food cart until ANBU gave the all-clear.
“Ran a support circuit for two hours,” Kiba said, finally getting to talk. “Worked like a charm.”
“You drooled blood all over the command post,” Shino pointed out.
He pointed to his eyepatch. “I had a grievous head wound!”
That got a ripple of actual laughter.
Choji, still chewing, raised his hand halfway again. “We fought the massive three-headed snake. Managed to strangle it in the end.”
Quite a few people looked at him with a sense of wonder, which I think he deserved, in all honesty. Everyone in the room had a similar story—or they were talking themselves up. It was a nice moment and a welcome change compared to whatever the hell the last fifteen minutes were.
I caught Hinata’s eye—even she couldn’t hide the twist of shame on her face and I gave her a frown that hopefully spoke volumes. If she was castigating herself for having internal injuries and not being able to fight like I thought she was, then I’d lecture her on the importance of recovery as she was so fond of telling me.
I shrugged. “People needed help. We helped. Doesn’t really matter who got what credit.”
But it did, and we all knew it. The whole evening was about that. Not who actually deserved the credit, but who had the power to carry it forward. That’s what these dinners were for. What they’d always been for, even back before Danzo took the hat: reshuffling the deck.
Figuring out where everyone landed in the new order. The big clans were doing it in the main hall, behind politeness and ten-layer diplomacy, probably. We were doing it here with jabs and pissing contests and a fake casual tone.
And like any good reshuffling, some people weren’t happy about the hand they got.
One of the quieter boys, someone with a stitched armband was one such person. “Doesn’t change who runs the village. Doesn’t matter how many missions you’ve completed if your clan can’t back you when it counts.”
That got a few nods. The old fallback. Lineage over merit. Legacy over living proof. It was hard to fight that argument without sounding like you were whining or just plain old arrogant.
I didn’t bite, though. That’d be too easy.
I just said, “The Fourth didn’t have a clan.”
Silence again. A few of the younger ones blinked like they hadn’t thought of that. Some of the older ones looked uncomfortable.
Shikamaru made a show of stretching. “So… are we still pretending this isn’t just a pissing contest? Or are we moving on to who has the best chakra control next?”
More laughter this time, but it felt like it was a way for the room to exhale and not confront the idea of an actual no-name saying something that mattered.
Ino raised her hand. “Obviously me.”
“Yeah, when it comes to hair products, maybe—” Kiba started only for her to cut him off.
“Don’t start with me, dog-boy.”
The undercurrent of tension was still there but it became something familiar. Less about threat. More about the rivalry, and even the smuggest ones started trying to figure out how to talk without sounding like idiots.
I caught Sasuke’s eye again. He still looked irritated, but now it felt less like he wanted to kill someone and more like he was tolerating them. Which, for Sasuke, was practically an embrace.
He raised his teacup a fraction, almost imperceptible.
I mirrored it.
The evening wound down slowly after that.
Course by course, the food came out. Speeches happened, though none in the side hall were important. Someone gave a toast in the main room that filtered in through the paper-thin walls. People stood to talk and sat to listen. Names were traded like currency. Favours floated unspoken between half-finished sentences.
A dozen alliances were born and died between bites of sesame-crusted chicken and mochi. This was what leadership looked like, apparently. Not flashy jutsu. Not victories in combat. Just the right comment to the right person at the right time.
I didn’t quite know how to feel about it. I definitely wasn’t good at it and certainly made a lot of people in here uncomfortable before I even said a word. But tonight was proof I could play the game when I had to.
Things would only become easier after today—and infinitely more difficult too.
Eventually, people started drifting. One by one. In pairs. Small groups. A couple of people tried to approach me but didn’t seem all that interested after a few minutes of conversation, or were too worried about judgement anyway. Takumi Kurama was rather confident about it, though, even as he introduced himself as one of the genin in the Genin Corps.
Which was essentially a place for the Academy students who failed the Jonin Test—and suddenly, his atypical worldview and lack of apprehension towards me made some sense. What use was a big family name with something like that on your record?
Not that it was impossible to make it in the corps, but it was a lot harder thanks to the lack of a dedicated and experienced teacher. Besides, that he didn’t have an inferiority complex at least did him some credit.
I waited until most of the tables had thinned. My team stayed with me for the most part, but I left our shared table for some air out the side hall and back into the cooler night air where the lamps were low and the sky above Hokage Mountain had started to cloud over.
Shikamaru was already walking a step ahead of me, but his voice drifted back, even and serene. “Next time, they’ll be more prepared for you.”
“Next time?” I echoed.
He turned slightly. “You think this is the only time you’ll attend one of these? We both know that when our new Hokage reveals your identity, you’ll be attending more of these than I ever will.”
“Well, I’ll make sure to bring you along with me, just so you can suffer.”
Shikamaru laughed. “I think I’d rather die.”
- - -
Comments
Xardas2995
Would be nice if the Kurama kid could become a friend if the SI. I liked his introduction here.
Xardas2995
First of I approve of you introducing clans and politics. It is an essential part of Konoha. That being said I think going that route can be divisive. Many fans either ignore this topic like the show or go full ASOIAF. Stop crushing my hopes! Give the SI his harem! His clan needs the numbers! Since the harem would make him miserable it fits perfectly in the story. Now Naruto has a motivation to become a jonin asap. The 5 clan support will be decently easy to get I think. Tsunade and Sasuke I can see giving their approval without any demands. Not sure if Fuma clan is a vassal of the Uchiha here like in TOR or if that changed after the massacre. So 2 to 3 approvals already safe. Akimichi, Yamanaka, Nara and Hyuuga might be easy as well but I think the clans will still want some political favor despite Naruto being friends with the heirs. Hyuugas will probably be toughest. Sarutobi and Shimura might also help. Danzo is probably content since this completely plays in his favor. Naruto rushes becoming a jonin and through forming a clan binds himself more to Konoha. Naruto also has to learn navigating politics which is needed for a future hokage. It is a good setup of the wider world building for future Arcs. Also introducing the genin corps. The whole thing shows how Naruto was isolated from these things due to him acting on his show knowledge and pretty much having a guaranteed jonin sensei.
