"Hmph! Hiruzen—don't regret this!"
The heavy wooden door slammed shut with a loud bang, echoing through the Hokage's office.
Sarutobi Hiruzen sat behind his desk, pipe between his fingers, his expression weary rather than angry.
Same line… every single time, he thought.
After all these years, Danzo never changed. Every argument ended the same way—empty threats, dramatic exits, and absolutely no self-reflection.
As if on reflex, Hiruzen replied calmly, almost mechanically:
"I am the Hokage, Danzo."
The sound of retreating footsteps faded down the corridor.
Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu, seated nearby, remained completely unfazed. They had witnessed this scene countless times over the years.
Danzo storming out.
Hiruzen sighing.
Nothing new.
"At least," Koharu said dryly, "he didn't tear the door off its hinges this time."
Hiruzen exhaled a thin stream of smoke and nodded faintly. "That's progress, I suppose."
He took another slow puff from his pipe, then turned his gaze toward the two elders.
"Are there any other recommendations?" he asked.
Homura shook his head. "No. The others are still lacking, either in experience or judgment."
Koharu nodded in agreement. "Promoting them now would only cause trouble."
"Very well," Hiruzen said, tapping his pipe against the ashtray. "Then the quota for this year's Jonin Promotion Examination is decided."
With that, the matter was settled.
Qingshui's Apartment
The faint aroma of dinner still lingered in the air.
After finishing their meal, Mikoto quietly stood up and began clearing the table. Her movements were gentle and practiced, as if she had done this countless times before.
Qingshui watched her for a moment, then headed to the bathroom.
Warm water washed away the fatigue of the day. When he finally stepped out, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, he noticed something immediately.
The apartment was spotless.
Every surface gleamed, everything neatly arranged.
Yet Mikoto was nowhere to be seen.
"Mikoto?" he called.
No answer.
He tried again, louder this time. Still nothing.
"…Looks like she went home," Qingshui muttered.
He wasn't surprised.
This had become their routine. Mikoto would come over every day, cook for him, tidy up the apartment, and then quietly return to her own home.
Since both of them lived in the main district of Konoha, the distance wasn't far.
And since the Night of the Nine-Tails had not yet occurred, the Uchiha Clan compound remained in its original location.
Everything was peaceful.
Or so he thought.
When Qingshui pushed open the bedroom door, his mind blanked.
Mikoto was there.
Lying on the bed.
And wearing nothing but a purple apron.
Her long dark hair spilled across the pillow, her cheeks faintly flushed. When she saw him, she turned her head slightly away, her fingers clutching the bedsheet, her expression shy yet resolute.
"Qingshui…" she said softly. "Why are you just standing there? Come here."
For a moment, Qingshui forgot how to breathe.
A purple apron…
A certain phrase surfaced in his mind.
Purple truly is the most alluring color.
His sister wasn't wrong.
This was lethal.
Absolutely lethal.
Who could possibly resist something like this?
Qingshui certainly couldn't.
In the next instant, he closed the distance and pulled Mikoto into his arms, capturing her lips in a deep, fervent kiss.
Mikoto froze for a heartbeat—then melted against him, responding clumsily but sincerely.
Their breathing grew uneven.
Their heartbeats synchronized.
But when things reached the final boundary, Qingshui suddenly stopped.
"Mikoto," he said quietly, resting his forehead against hers. "Are you really sure?"
"I don't want you to regret this later… because of a moment of impulse."
He knew her.
Mikoto had always wanted to wait until marriage.
He respected her deeply. More than anyone else, he would never force her.
Mikoto met his gaze, her eyes steady despite the blush on her face.
"Why would I regret it?" she whispered. "I love you, Qingshui."
That single sentence shattered his hesitation completely.
Compared to Tsunade, Mikoto was more reserved, more gentle, and far more easily overwhelmed.
Under Qingshui's careful guidance, she slowly crossed the final line, stepping into adulthood with trust and determination.
Time lost its meaning.
When it was finally over, Mikoto lay curled against his chest, her breathing soft and even, her expression peaceful beyond words.
Qingshui pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and wrapped his arms around her.
They fell asleep together.
Early Morning
Sunlight streamed through the window.
Qingshui woke up first.
Today was supposed to be another day of intense training.
Yet here he was, lying in bed.
Guilt stirred in his heart.
I'm slacking off…
But when he looked down and saw Mikoto nestled in his arms, that guilt evaporated instantly.
This is acceptable, he decided without shame.
He noticed her eyelashes flutter slightly.
"…You're awake," he said.
Mikoto pretended to sleep, but it was far too obvious.
Qingshui smiled mischievously.
"Mikoto," he said seriously, "as ninjas, we must not only master taijutsu and ninjutsu…"
"But also persist in daily training."
"Come," he added, leaning closer, "let's have morning training together."
Her eyes flew open.
"M-Morning training?!" she exclaimed, face instantly red.
Before she could protest further, her words were silenced.
And so, under Qingshui's very strict guidance, morning training was completed.
Hokage's Office
Sarutobi Hiruzen exhaled smoke slowly as he looked at the three people standing before him.
"Based on your abilities, achievements, and overall performance," he said, "the three of you are qualified to participate in this year's Jonin Promotion Examination."
"As long as you pass, you will officially become Jonin."
Qingshui, Minato, and Nonou listened attentively.
"The Jonin examination," Hiruzen continued, "is divided into three stages."
"The first stage is a written examination."
Unlike the Chunin Exams, which tested information gathering and deception, the Jonin written exam focused on pure knowledge.
Jonin were elite ninjas.
They undertook high-risk missions, often operating alone.
Lack of knowledge could mean death—not only for themselves, but for others.
"The second stage is a practical combat assessment."
Each candidate would face an assessing Jonin in a one-on-one battle.
Only those approved by the examiner would pass.
"The final stage is a solo mission."
A B-rank mission, to be completed independently.
"This is the greatest difference between Chunin and Jonin."
Hiruzen paused, then added, "Passing all three stages does not guarantee promotion."
"A comprehensive evaluation will be conducted."
"If someone excels only in a specific field, they may only be promoted to Special Jonin."
"I hope all three of you succeed."
He handed out three application forms.
Qingshui accepted them and passed the others to Minato and Nonou.
Kushina, who should have been qualified as well, had been rejected—and had complained endlessly until Qingshui comforted her.
After leaving the office, the three arrived at the written exam venue.
The proctor was already waiting.
Soon, the exam ended.
Unsurprisingly, all three passed with ease.
The second stage took place in the Forest of Death.
They were separated.
Each assigned their own examiner.
"Minato. Nonou," Qingshui said, smiling. "Do your best."
Then he rushed toward his own training ground, anticipation rising.
Who will assess me?
Two years ago, his strength had already surpassed most Jonin.
Now?
He was far stronger.
When he arrived, he froze.
Silver-white hair tied back.
A white armband with a red triangle.
A chakra blade strapped across the back.
Hatake Sakumo.
The name echoed in his mind.
Konoha's—
White Fang.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)