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Chapter 4: Sarutobi Hiruzen
🕑 Added 2025-05-29 14:17:32 +0000 UTCSarutobi Hiruzen
June 1, 1 bNb
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Izuma stopped just a step past the threshold. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and the office was just as he remembered.
Same old shelves lined with old paper, books, and scrolls. The same old black ink stains crusted into the table, a few scratches, dents, and chips were on the surface of the table as well. The varnish coating had peeled from a combination of heat and aging. All in all, the desk looked just as weathered by time as the man behind it himself.
And speaking of the man behind the desk, there he sat: Sarutobi Hiruzen.
The Third Hokage.
The Professor.
The God of Shinobi.
Staring at the desk had brought up an old memory. He had once asked the Hokage why he never bothered replacing the desk, and his response was simple: it was a gift from an old teammate of his.
Namely, one Kagami Uchiha.
Izuma stopped letting his eyes wander and let them land on the Hokage, who still hadn’t looked up; instead, he was hunched over his desk, his gaze fixed on a scroll that was sprawled over a portion of his desk.
The stem of his pipe was positioned between two of his very yellow teeth, and wisps of smoke floated up the room and eventually drifted out through the open window.
If Izuma was being totally honest with himself, it was a bit of a mundane scene, certainly not the figure one would expect the leader of one of the five greatest military nations in the world to cut.
But maybe that was part of the old man’s facade, because even now—maybe, especially now, when the man in front of him was older, wizened, and looked like another puff of his smoke would take with it the final remnants of his life—he could still feel it.
The amount of power that the geezer had underneath that grandfatherly smile was a little unnerving. He had fought against jōnin, bled in wars, heck, he had once stood side-by-side with the likes of Minato Namikaze and Orochimaru.
Nothing compared to this.
Hiruzen was older now, yes. His beard was more grey than black, his hairline pushed further up, and his skin sagged.
He should, by all means, have been nothing but a helpless old man.
Big emphasis on should have, because he was anything but.
Minato had his ungodly speed. Jiraiya, the power that came with Sage Mode. Orochimaru was unconventional, pulling out jutsus many had never seen before, or using them in ways unseen.
But Hiruzen?
Well, he didn’t quite know—it’s not like he had seen the man fight outside of the anime.
But what he did know with quiet certainty was that, even seated behind a desk doing nothing more than reading a scroll, he was still the strongest shinobi Izuma had ever been near. He wasn’t sure why, but the room felt smaller when Hiruzen was in it—it was like his presence engulfed it.
He had wondered if this feeling was foreign to others, so he had asked what they thought of the elderly man, and he had gotten mixed responses. From that, the only working theory he had pieced together was that feeling only cropped up in seasoned, veteran ninja.
Those who had honed their senses in combat for extended periods of time tended to be more aware of the feeling than those who had not.
Sometime during Izuma’s musings, the man in question had brought his gaze up from his scroll, but he still let the silence linger a moment—let it not be said that the Hokage didn’t favor dramatising meetings.
“You’re tracking mud on my floor again, Izuma.”
He gave a faux bow. “Forgive me, great lord Hokage.”
Hiruzen took a puff of his pipe, but amusement flickered in his eyes.
“I’m in quite a generous mood today, so I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, gesturing with his offhand toward the two chairs opposite his desk. “Do make yourself comfortable, Red Fang.”
He winced. “You too, old man? That’s three times today.”
Hiruzen chuckled and finally set the pipe down in its holder. “What can I say? Word travels fast. You know how many messenger birds I had to swat away just to enjoy my tea in peace? It’s like the entire continent wants a piece of you.”
Izuma snorted—tea break his ass. The ol’ geezer was probably hitting another puff.
Regardless, he chose not to call the Hokage out on his—very obvious, might he add—bs. “I’m flattered, but the name gets old, quick,” he replied.
The Hokage ignored him, opting to lean forward instead and reach under his desk. A moment later, he produced a thick binder and dropped it onto the table with a thud.
“Know what this is?” he asked, flipping it open.
Izuma’s eye twitched. “You’re kidding.”
“Oh no,” Hiruzen said. “Your bingo book entry from the other villages has been updated. Would you like me to read it aloud?”
“I’d really rather you didn’t.”
“Too bad.” The old man cleared his throat dramatically. “Izuma Uchiha. Codename: Red Fang of the Leaf. Confirmed A-rank threat. Specializes in multi-affinity elemental ninjutsu, close-quarters assassination, and genjutsu. Possesses three-tomoe Sharingan. Caution: very high-level genjutsu capabilities. Known to operate solo. Threat level: high.”
Izuma groaned. Sure, having one’s name in the bingo book was an accomplishment, but when you were a ninja, secrecy was kind of a big deal, and having your enemies know exactly how you fought wasn’t exactly helpful.
“Who wrote that?” he asked.
It was a valid question if you asked him. There weren’t many who survived an encounter with him, so information would be scarce.
“There’s more,” Hiruzen said, ignoring his question. “Suspected to be responsible for the Riverfront Pass firebombing. Confirmed to have killed multiple other A-rank threats, both from Stone and Kumo. Engaged enemy battalions across five warfronts and survived. Reportedly set a river on fire. Possibly by accident.”
“That part was not an accident,” Izuma mumbled. “Also, shouldn’t you be more concerned? The more information they have on me, the less effective I’ll be in the field.
The Hokage leaned back, looking up at the roof wistfully. “Nonsense,” he waved his hands. “Perhaps it’ll give them more information to plan with, but that’s about it. You’re skilled enough that it doesn’t really matter what information they have, unless an S-rank ninja comes to exploit it themselves. Besides, they’re giving you big shoes to fill, you know. Fang was part of the epithet they gave Sakumo Hatake back in his heyday.”
Izuma stared at him for a long second.
They gave him part of the title that was given to the person who had the most infamous death in the history of the Leaf.
Joy.
“So…is this you trying to gas me up before sending me on a suicide mission?”
Hiruzen didn’t respond, which was a response in and of itself.
Izuma sighed, reached into his cloak, and pulled out a sealed scroll marked with the Leaf’s crest that was tied neatly with a cord. He placed it on the desk.
“Mission report,” he said. “Of the Mist skirmish. Full tactical summary and casualty breakdown.”
Hiruzen took it, his expression smoothing. “Good. I’ll review it myself.”
Izuma nodded, then settled into the nearest chair with another soft sigh.
For a beat, neither said anything.
Then Hiruzen glanced at him and said, “How are you? I know since you’ve been promoted to Jonin, you didn’t have much rest.”
“I feel worse.”
He didn’t let his response linger. While bantering around with his superior was fun, it was ‘bout time he learned of the real reason he—and many others, from what he had heard—were recalled.
“So what’s the real reason I’m here? You didn’t call back half your elite just to read off their bingo book entries.”
The atmosphere changed; Hiruzen tapped the fingers of one hand on the desk, while the other reached up to his mouth for his pipe, only to drop back to his side once he realized it was still on his desk, and then, slowly, he sat forward.
Gone was the warmth of the Professor, and instead was the gaze of the Hokage.
“Right,” Izuma murmured. “Time to get serious then?”
Hiruzen nodded.
Izuma sat straighter.
“Good,” Hiruzen said quietly. “Then let’s begin.”
Hiruzen exhaled, likely a force of habit from excessive smoking.
“You’re right, you weren’t the only one called back. Minato, you, and countless other capable shinobi have been brought back. Any guesses as to why?”
Izuma held back a shrug, reclining into his seat thoughtfully.
Many heavy hitters were brought back—something big was going on, that much was painfully obvious. Hiruzen wasn’t asking that; rather, it likely had more to do with what they were brought back for in specific.
Taking people who could hold down entire battlefields by their lonesome wasn’t a very effective way to win a war, unless their use in another field would bring about far greater benefits.
The war for Konoha was currently most prominent with Iwa; all the other fronts had died down to mere skirmishes instead of raging wars, so it definitely had something to do with them.
A scene from the anime played in his head, and the more he thought of it, the more it made sense. The only big mission Minato had undergone during the Third War was the one at Kannabi Bridge.
And since he had come to this world, he had long learned that Kannabi Bridge was in the Village Hidden in the Grass.
Finally, he let out a sigh. “So an attack on Kannabi Bridge?”
Hiruzen nodded once, bringing his pipe back to his mouth and letting out a puff. “It seems your time on the frontlines hasn’t dulled your deductive capabilities,” he said. “I’ve had an inkling of a plan since the start of the war, and together with Danzo and the Nara, it was perfected.”
Izuma bit back a scowl at the mention of the war-hawk.
Hiruzen let out another puff, watching the smoke scatter with a disinterested gaze. “Those supply chains are indispensable to Iwa—destroy them, and choke half their army.”
“So what’s the plan?” he questioned.
While on paper it sounded good—great, even—the truth was, if Konoha knew how important that supply line was, then Iwa definitely knew. Meaning: it would be heavily fortified.
And destroying a place guarded by Iwa with all its might was no simple task. Not in the slightest.
“Minato’s team won’t be able to sneak in without setting off every bell on the board. Iwa’s watching that sector like a hawk,” he continued.
Hiruzen paused, peering at him momentarily. “Which is why we need someone to draw their attention.”
“And that’s where I come in.”
Ahhh—so he was going to die. There really was something wrong with the shitty “Fang” name.
Hiruzen gave the faintest smile, but his eyes remained just as serious. “Not just you. I’ve recalled several of our elite, as you know. In fact, you’ll be working with your old genin team again. You have twenty Jonins backing you up, along with the reinforcements that are already stationed nearby.”
Wait…there was a chance he would live. Yay!
After mentally gloating, he whistled. “That’s good, it's been a while since I saw them.”
It was the truth, too. The last time he had seen any of them had been near the beginning of the war, but their assignments were changed quickly afterward.
He hadn’t seen them since.
The Hokage, across from him, fiddled with a couple of markings set on the paper, moving one specific piece to the center of the Village Hidden in the Grass.
“Also, I wish for you,” he motioned to the piece, “to lead the force.”
That brought him up short—he was yet to turn 16, the legal age to drive in his past life, and here he was being trusted with leading an army in one of the most important missions in Konoha’s history.
If he messed up, there were going to be hundreds, maybe thousands, of lives that would be lost in the aftermath.
Hiruzen saw his disbelief and spoke calmly. “You’re a jōnin, a battlefield commander, and a tactician with experience in a variety of fronts. You’ve led missions with minimum casualties in enemy territory. You’ve coordinated evacuations under fire. You’ve lived even after coming across S-rank threats.”
Izuma opened his mouth, then closed it.
“Your age means nothing to me,” he went on, voice steady. “What matters is that when people follow you, they come back alive. And in this mission, that is what matters most.”
He slumped in his chair and nodded.“Understood.”
“I trust you,” Hiruzen added.
He nodded again, this time in thanks.
“You’ll have until the 8th to rest, prepare, and coordinate. I’ll give you the full dossier by tomorrow morning.”
“Sounds good, boss man,” he said, rising from his seat.
He made it halfway to the door when Hiruzen said, “Izuma—one more thing.”
He stopped and turned back.
“There’s another mission you were assigned,” the Hokage said, his tone cooling. “The classified one. The report hasn’t come in.”
“I’m finishing it,” he said. “The suspect’s been identified for the most part. Name, associates, even social behaviours—I just need to tie up some final loose ends and the report will be submitted.”
Hiruzen inclined his head. “Good.”
A silence settled between them.
Then, quieter, Izuma asked, “What if…what if someone influential—in the village, I mean, is involved?”
The question hung.
He wasn’t smirking, and Hiruzen wasn’t chuckling.
The Hokage met his gaze across the office, steel in his eyes.
“What if the person at the end of the line wears a jonin vest? Or sits in a council seat?”
Hiruzen exhaled another puff of smoke, this time with a bit more force.
“If they’re guilty,” he said, at last, “then they will answer to me.”
That was all he needed.
Thank god—it seemed Hiruzen was willing to put his foot down.
Izuma nodded once. “You should have my report after the mission is over, if all goes well.”
The Hokage didn’t respond, just watched him take his leave quietly.
Izuma paused with one hand on the door frame, long enough to see the shadow crossing into the hallway.
Danzo Shimura.
Their eyes met.
Danzo, dressed in muted robes, bandaged as always, offered a nod. “Welcome back, Izuma.”
Izuma’s lips curled.
“Always good to see you, Danzo.”
Danzo passed him, cane tapping the wood.
Izuma didn’t turn to watch him go.
He stepped out of the office and let the door close behind him.
His stomach turned.
There weren’t many people in this world he truly loathed.
But Danzo Shimura had always topped the list.
If he ever got the chance…
He wouldn’t hesitate.
.
The door shut softly behind Izuma.
Hiruzen didn’t move right away. His fingers lingered on the stem of his pipe, thumb brushing over the ridged carvings near its bowl. A long inhale followed—smoke curled upward in soft threads, dancing near the ceiling.
Across the room, Danzo Shimura had already stepped into the center, his cane clicking once against the polished floor before he came to a halt.
“Quite the prodigy,” Danzo said, voice hoarse. “You’ve placed a great deal of trust in that one.”
Hiruzen exhaled, and smoke rose toward the ceiling. “Trust is earned. He’s done that, and more.”
Danzo’s visible eye narrowed. “He’s young. Emotional. Volatile. That fiasco in the Land of Noodles nearly shattered our negotiations with important merchants in the land of the Noodles.”
“And crippled a Kiri supply line before their supplies ever reached their frontline,” Hiruzen replied, voice even. “I’d consider that a win.”
Danzo snorted, tapping his cane on the ground, and did a little hobble toward the seat. “It worked out this time—how sure are you it will the next?” he said. “That decision should not lie with a teenager. If something goes wrong, will you take responsibility and face the civilians? Tell them a kid ruined their future?”
Hiruzen massaged his temples. It was always the same with Danzo: he shouldn’t do this, he shouldn’t do that.
He played the perfect act—the truth, however, was that the war-hawk was dissatisfied that it was not his own agent in the power position.
“He’s not just a teenager. He’s a jōnin. A field captain. Decorated on three fronts. And unlike many others…” Hiruzen’s gaze didn’t waver, “…he’s loyal.”
Danzo didn’t so much as blink, but his gaze became questioning all the same.
“So was Nonō Yakushi,” Hiruzen said.
Danzo tilted his head, leaning onto his cane. “You bring her up often. Seeking closure? Perhaps it is your guilt?”
And people questioned why he smoked so much—without the stress relief, either many of his own subordinates would be dead, or he would have abandoned the post decades ago.
“She died on a mission you authorized,” Hiruzen said patiently. “She was our best spy—best medic, too—”
“—only because you couldn’t convince Tsuande to stay,” Danzo added.
He ignored the jab and continued: “—And she died on a mission you approved. Approved, without my knowledge.”
Danzo tapped his cane on the floor. “She was once a capable kunoichi, but no longer was that the case. She was retired, and I saw a better use for her—one you were unwilling to try. Maybe she died on a dangerous mission, so do thousands of other shinobi. So what? She died in service to the village—that’s all that matters.”
“No,” he said. “She died because her superior, in all likelihood, gave her a suicide mission.”
Silence.
“Don’t blame her own incompetence on me. You’re letting your distrust of Root cloud your judgment, Sarutobi.”
“You’re right,” Hiruzen said. “I don’t trust Root. After the stunts you’ve been pulling in this war, I doubt I ever will. In fact, henceforth, no missions will be approved without my authorization. Not even missions concerning Root. ”
Danzo’s jaw set tightly. “That’s a mistake. You think the kids who carry a clan name can do what my agents have done? You sit behind your desk speaking of grand ideals, while Root does all your dirty work. Where would you be without Root—without me protecting the village from the shadows?”
A long inhale and exhale followed. He let the smoke hit Danzo in the face. It was petty, but dealing with his friend turned annoyance was no easy feat.
“Without you, I would still be sitting in the same seat, ruling the same village, in the very same office—the office sensei handed down to me. One word, Danzo, that’s all it takes, and Root is gone. I’ve been kind to you because of our time underneath Tobirama sensei, and because you’ve helped the village. But lately, your help has been far and few between—don’t test me now.”
A breath passed.
Hiruzen reclined into his seat, eyeing Danzo mutely.
The man had a knack for testing his patience even greater than Jiraiya.
Danzo’s eye slid toward the door.
“…That boy,” he said, “has the makings of someone exceptional. You think Root hasn’t been helpful? Give me that boy—he’s in the same class as Minato and Orochimaru. I’ll refine his ability, under Root’s direction, I’ll give the village what it has needed since the First passed away: the ultimate wea—.”
“—weapon?” Hiruzen interrupted.
Danzo scowled at the interruption, but nodded nonetheless.
“If you’re asking whether I trust that Izuma Uchiha can obtain that level of strength? Then the answer is yes—even if he doesn’t reach the heights of Madara, he will go far. But, if you’re asking whether you’ll be the one to facilitate that growth…” he smiled, but there was no warmth in it, “…you already know the answer.”
“You’re wasting potential.”
“I’m preserving it.”
Danzo’s eye narrowed. “Sentiment clouds your judgment.”
“You should be thankful it does, otherwise you would not be in the position you’re in.”
They stared at each other.
At one point, Hiruzen thought people had compared Danzo and his bickering to Madara and Hashirama’s own.
A clash of ideals that ultimately brought about benefits to Konoha in different ways.
And it was only in this moment that Hiruzen truly understood how far his former friend had fallen.
His actions were for his own gain, and if they happened to help the village in the meantime, then that was great; if not, however, it would be no sweat off his back.
Danzo finally gave a short nod—whether out of respect or resignation, it was impossible to tell. He turned and walked to the door, cane tapping softly across the polished wood.
He was nearly through when Hiruzen spoke again.
“I haven’t forgotten Nonō.”
Danzo paused mid-stride.
“And I haven’t stopped looking,” Hiruzen continued, his voice cold steel now. “If I find proof, Danzo... our next meeting will be very different.”
Danzo didn’t turn.
He left without a word.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Hiruzen didn’t move for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, he tapped the ash from his pipe into the tray and stared into the drifting smoke.
In the smoke, he saw a face.
“Izuma,” he murmured.
The perfect shinobi—he treaded the same path that had taken better men, yet he walked it all the same. It wasn’t simply skill in battle or talent in ninjutsu. He lived the life of a shinobi, yet remained kind all the same.
He was thankful that Izuma didn’t turn out like his erstwhile—and wasn’t that a painful word to use—student. Orochimaru had been under Danzo for a few years, and he could barely reconcile the image of his current self to his past one.
Izuma, however, it seemed, was not from that cloth; rather, he was the ideal of the will of fire personified.
Minato and he both.
The two future leaders of the village.
It was for that very reason he tested Izuma with the question today—he was young, but no less sharp.
In all their meetings, he tried to make it a point to question the boy why the village was taking the actions that it was. And just as expected, Izuma proved his wit, answering his questions correctly more often than not.
To be quite honest, he was too good—he made his job so much easier.
Hiruzen’s plan was to pass the hat to Minato and live off the rest of his days with his pipe.
And if all things went well, Minato would be able to pass the hat off to Izuma, and maybe Hashirama’s, Tobirama's, and Madara’s wishes would finally be fulfilled: an Uchiha for Hokage.
The face in the smoke morphed, keeping many of the same features, but changing slightly.
Kagami Uchiha.
Hiruzen sighed, comparing the similarities between Kagami and Izuma.
He hoped he hadn’t given him too much to carry—he did not want a repeat of Kagami.
But the boy hadn’t faltered yet.
And a part of Hiruzen knew he wouldn’t:
He’d entrusted this mission to the Red Fang of the Leaf.
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A/N: I know mentioning that Tobirama wished to see an Uchiha as the Hokage might seem weird, but he didn’t hate the clan; he was just wary of them. Rightfully so, lmao. His main concern was with their volatile emotions and how their eyes are fueled by them.
A case and point of this would be him having Kagami Uchiha be a part of his personal guard, and giving all his students, including Kagami, the opportunity to become Hokage.
By the way, Nonō is Kabuto’s mother. She was a great spy in the main story, and considering Kabuto’s skill in medical jutsu, and Konoha’s distinct lack of it outside of Tsunade, it would make sense that she would be the best medical jutsu practitioner in the village.
It is mentioned that she was a medical ninja, and her name was: The Wandering Nun. So, making her the most skilled might be a bit of headcannon, but it doesn’t really change much. Especially, considering she’s dead, lol.
