A few days later, in one of the Hokage Building’s most secluded chambers, silence pressed against the walls.

From the rear entrance, hidden behind the Hokage Rock’s shadowed bulk, Shinsuke Sarutobi emerged.

His cloak still carried the stale air of the ANBU compartments threaded through the mountain.

From below, through the concealed tunnels that rooted into the earth, Danzo Shimura surfaced, his arrival silent as a blade sliding free of its sheath.

Inside, Hiruzen Sarutobi was already waiting.

The three men converged, their expressions heavy.

The ongoing global war itself weighed enough, barely holding against Iwagakure’s grind, suffering brutal losses against Kumogakure, while Sunagakure and Kirigakure loomed, about to soon enter the game against them directly as well, sensing that weakness.

But another matter drew them together, darker and almost absurd in its scale.

A single thirteen-year-old boy.

Only a year ago, such a name would have been beneath their notice, a trivial ant in the chaos of greater designs.

Yet now, the three of them had set aside everything to discuss him.

Soon, they sat across from one another, silence thick, the air carrying the sharp tang of unease.

Everything had taken the worst possible turn.

Only a few days earlier, Danzo’s Root Deputy Commander, Tatsuma Aburame, had come forward with his full report.

The mission had failed.

Not simply failed, collapsed in a way none of them had calculated for.

It wasn’t the boy’s strength, his actions, or even his tenacity that stunned them.

Those things they had already factored in.

They knew he was slippery, resilient, and resourceful already.

This time, they had gone all out, no longer underestimating him, even fielding Yoji Aburame, their freshly cultivated “secret weapon.”

Yet despite that, the boy lived.

And it wasn’t the survival itself that pressed like iron on their minds. It was the method.

He had somehow reached Tsunade Senju.

Tatsuma’s account was fantastic, bordering on unreal.

Two whole divisions separated them, nearly half the breadth of a minor country between.

How had he located her? How had he signaled her?

How had he done it all while being hunted through the forests and ridges of Hot Water Country, with Kumo patrols crisscrossing the terrain and ANBU kill-teams sweeping for him?

The technical details unsettled them most.

His sensory ability bordered on impossible.

Perhaps second only to Kushina’s, if not already comparable, or worse, superior.

His stamina and chakra recovery.

Enough to run for an entire night through hostile ground, dodging patrols, skirting battle lines, laying traps, and still retaining enough clarity to lure and kill Yoji Aburame.

It was madness.

But none of those things alone were what made the air in the Hokage’s chamber so heavy.

The problem was the connection he had forged.

In the midst of this chaos, in a place where no bridge should have existed, he had established contact with Tsunade.

And that single thread, if left to thicken, could spiral out into a chain strong enough to drag all their careful balances into ruin.

That was why, after the initial stunned encounter, the room had nearly broken into open accusations.

Danzo had lashed out first, blaming Hiruzen outright.

For stationing Tsunade anywhere near that theater, which interfered with the Root’s mission this time.

He also criticised Shinsuke on why he didn’t eliminate the boy earlier, when he was not this developed.

Meanwhile, father and son together pressed Danzo hard, reminding him that he was granted full clearance, full autonomy, and the pick of his best men, for this mission, as he always wanted, leading it directly this time as the main player, and yet it still failed this disastrously.

The blame circled the table, sharp and hot, until finally it burned itself out. Shock and fury had left them drained.

They had agreed then, no further decisions in that state. They would wait. Gather reports.

Watch Tsunade’s every move.

Gauge how close she truly was to the boy, and how dangerous that bond might become.

Then, when their heads were clearer, they would convene again.

And so, today, they met once more.

The room was colder, quieter.

Their tempers smothered into calculation.

The air in the chamber felt heavier than usual, and the three men sat in silence for a long stretch before Danzo finally spoke, his voice rasping like dry leaves.

“The reports are clear. She brought him along openly. Not hidden, not disguised. She even clothed him in a medical corps uniform. Allowed him to move among her healers. To heal. To assist with logistics.”

“And she treats him as if he has been at her side for years. Not days. They are seen together constantly. Too close. Closer than even her own division officers.”

A bitter sound escaped Shinsuke, half scoff, half laugh. “So that’s it? The princess of the Senju has adopted a stray?”

Danzo’s voice hardened. “You think it trivial? Then tell me why, every night, they disappear for hours. Alone. Out of sight. None of our informants in her medical corps has been able to approach them then. What do you think she is doing with him?”

The silence that followed told them all the answer neither wanted to hear.

She was teaching him.

Already passing personal, secret techniques that had no business in a boy’s hands.

Hiruzen had not spoken yet.

His pipe sat in front of him, unlit.

His hands were still, his gaze lowered, but his thoughts burned.

He had never expected this. Not from her.

Tsunade had always been an asset to him, carefully molded since the day she graduated from the Academy during her childhood.

Too loud, too brash, too stubborn, but he had shaped her, step by step, reined her in, guided her brilliance, tolerated her excesses.

He had made her a Sannin, and in turn, she had never once turned her back on his directives.

She was Hashirama’s granddaughter, yes. Tobirama’s niece. The Senju heiress in name.

But in his mind, her clan’s matters had always been separate from hers.

She was not one of those fools in the revivalist faction.

She had supported their dissolution. Supported assimilation.

She had chosen the village over blood. She had chosen him.

So why, why the moment she meets this boy, does she throw it all away?

Why does she shield him at the cost of striking down other village shinobi from Root?

Why does she never send even a single falcon for clarification, never seek an explanation from him, her teacher?

Why, instead, does she cut off every message he sent her, every order, every plea, while flaunting the boy openly, daring him to act?

Hiruzen’s jaw tightened.

He had already prepared how he would soothe her, manipulate her again if necessary.

But she had not even given him the chance.

She simply believed the boy, whatever he told her, without question, without pause.

It was betrayal. That was the only word that fit.

And worse, she was teaching him.

After only a day had passed since their meeting.

Passing on her advanced techniques, without hesitation.

For the first time in many years, real anger burned in Hiruzen’s chest.

Why would meeting one boy change her so completely?

They were from the same clan, but not the same family, not even the same faction. 

“Could it be something else… Nawaki?”

For a fleeting moment, Hiruzen’s chest tightened.

But he dismissed the thought almost immediately.

If she had learned the truth about her brother, she would not be sitting quietly in a medical tent; she would have already stormed the village gates, killing or being killed in the attempt.

“No… it must be that boy. That wretched boy. He manipulated her successfully, somehow.”

His grip on the pipe tightened.

He remembered that narrow-eyed smile the brat had worn every time they met in this very office. On the surface, respectful.

But beneath it, fearless, calculating, full of hidden plots. Back then, he had dismissed it as a dying child putting on a brave face.

But now? Now he felt the sting of it like a slap across his pride.

Across from him, Danzo’s thoughts churned with equal venom.

He had always disliked Tsunade.

Always seen her as a danger that didn’t respect the authority enough.

Her blood, her charisma, her lineage, her brashness, and her ‘foolish’ ideology were too much of a risk in his opinion.

If anyone had asked him years ago, he would have said she should be eliminated, too.

Alongside her wretched clan remnants.

But her identity as Hashirama’s granddaughter, as the “princess,” as a Sannin, as Hiruzen’s prized disciple, these shields had been unbreakable.

Countless eyeballs were constantly gathered on her. 

He had swallowed his instincts, not dared to voice the thought aloud, not risk making himself look a fool before Hiruzen.

But now… now he knew. His intuition had been right. She was a problem.

She had always been a problem.

And if she was not dealt with, she would become a greater one than even the boy.

“So what are we going to do next?” Shinsuke finally broke the silence, his voice heavy and less like his usual joking self.

“We obviously can’t move openly against one of the Sannin without reason, especially at this time while she heals our wounded. And she…” He let out a dry breath. “She looks like she’s found some long-lost ‘soulmate’ in him. I doubt she’d hand him over peacefully, honestly.”

Danzo leaned forward, cane tapping once against the floor. “And if we do nothing, the boy festers. He grows. Aquires more S-rank jutsu. He binds her closer. Every day that passes, her loyalty bends further away from us. What then, Hiruzen? Shall we wait until he has her wrapped around his finger even more? After all, her status inside the village is still there.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep