A damp cave on the northwestern border of the Land of Fire had been converted into a field laboratory. Paper fuin-seals covered the walls, holding back moisture, and the air hummed from the operation of portable chakra generators powering medical equipment.
Orochimaru sat in a chair, gazing into a mirror.
On his pale face, right where Naruto's blow had landed in the Forest of Death, lay a thin but noticeable crack. The skin around it was peeling, revealing unnatural, gray flesh beneath. It wasn't fatal—yet. But it was... annoying.
"Tissue regeneration in the cervical region is slowed by 40%," Kabuto reported dryly, checking the readings of a diagnostic scroll. "The cells are resisting treatment. Usually, this happens in the third year of wearing a body, but we switched vessels only a few months ago."
Orochimaru ran a long finger along the crack on his cheek. There was no pain, only an unpleasant feeling of alienness to his own skin.
"That Uzumaki boy..." the Sannin drawled thoughtfully.
He wasn't angry. His voice held the cold curiosity of a researcher encountering an anomaly.
"I analyzed the structure of the wound, Kabuto. It started when he hit me in the forest; he used more than just brute force. That energy of his... besides the Nine-Tails' chakra... it's too dense. Too ordered."
Orochimaru picked up a scalpel from the table and thoughtfully twirled it in his hands.
"My Immortality technique is built on suppressing the vessel's soul. It is a delicate process, and this energy managed to disrupt it. It entered the system and created a conflict. It prevents my soul from fully merging with this flesh."
"Is it dangerous?" Kabuto adjusted his glasses.
"At the moment? No. I can still fight and use techniques. More of a slight discomfort."
Orochimaru put down the scalpel and stood up. The crack on his face widened slightly, and he had to press his palm against it, saturating it with chakra to "glue" the mask back together.
"But the shelf life of this body has been reduced by a factor of three. Instead of three years, it will last a year, maybe a little more. If there is active combat, the rejection will accelerate."
He paced the laboratory.
"We need a specialist, Kabuto. Someone who understands cellular regeneration and genetics better than you and I. Someone who can 'reflash' this vessel and eliminate the energy conflict."
"Do you have someone in mind?" the assistant asked.
"There is an old... acquaintance," Orochimaru smirked. "We haven't seen each other in a long time."
He walked over to the map of the Land of Fire hanging on the wall. His finger slid from Konoha to the west, toward a chain of famous resort towns known for their casinos and hot springs.
"Pack up. We are going west. There, we will find the solution to my little problem."
***
Waking up was slow, like surfacing from the deep, dark bottom of the ocean.
First came the sounds: the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor, the rustle of leaves outside the window, quiet footsteps in the corridor. Then—the smells: sharp antiseptic, medicinal herbs, and the faint scent of fresh flowers.
Naruto opened his eyes. The ceiling was white and impeccably clean.
He tried to move, and his body immediately responded with a dull, aching pain. Not the sharp pain of wounds—Medics and his own regeneration had taken care of that. It was deep bodily fatigue, exhaustion that had seeped into his bones after using the Cloak and overloading his energies.
"Awake?"
Naruto turned his head. Kakashi sat on a chair by the window. The Jonin looked tired; his vest was unzipped, a book lying closed on his knees.
"How long did I sleep?" Naruto's voice was hoarse from sleep, as if he had swallowed sand.
"Two days," Kakashi replied, standing up and handing his student a glass of water. "Your reserves were drained to the bottom. The Medics said an ordinary shinobi would have fallen into a coma for a month after that."
Naruto greedily drank the water. Memory returned in pieces. Forest. Shukaku. Strike to Gaara's head. Conversation.
"What about the village?" he asked, putting down the empty glass. "And the Hokage?"
Kakashi's face darkened.
"The village is rebuilding. Suna signed a surrender. Turns out, Orochimaru killed the Fourth Kazekage before the exam even started and took his place to manipulate the Sand. When this was revealed, they ceased resistance."
Kakashi paused, looking out the window where the cliffs with the Hokage faces were visible.
"As for Hiruzen-sama... He is alive. But the battle with Orochimaru took his last strength. His chakra system is damaged, and his body is too old for recovery. He is in stable condition, but he can no longer fulfill the duties of Hokage. The Council of Elders is already preparing the resignation procedure."
Naruto nodded. It was better than a funeral. The Old Man survived, and that was their main victory.
"And Gaara?"
"Gone," Kakashi replied, looking intently at his student. "Together with his team. We didn't pursue them. The village needs to lick its wounds, not start a new war. But, Naruto... ANBU reports and my own observations confirm one thing. You stopped the One-Tail. Alone."
The Jonin placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"You saved the village, Naruto. Now it's official. No one will dare look down on you again."
Naruto leaned back on the pillow. He didn't feel triumph. Only quiet satisfaction from a job well done.
"I just did what I had to do," he answered quietly.
***
Toward evening, Naruto was allowed to get up.
He dressed in his black uniform, which had been mended, washed, and neatly folded on a chair. His forehead protector once again took its place on his forehead.
He left the ward and headed for the exit.
On the way, he met a person in an ANBU mask.
"Uzumaki, Hiruzen-sama wishes to see you," he said in an emotionless voice. "Right now."
Naruto was led to the intensive care wing.
The Third Hokage lay surrounded by devices. He looked emaciated. Not a wise ruler in a hat, but just a very old, tired grandfather.
"Naruto," Hiruzen's voice was quiet but clear. "Come here."
The old man gestured for the ANBU to leave. They were left alone.
"I heard the report; Kakashi told me everything," Hiruzen turned his head with difficulty. "You did what I should have done. Protected our home."
He pointed a weakened hand at the bedside table. A folded green vest lay there.
"The exam was interrupted. Formally, there are no winners. But the Jonin Council and I... we are unanimous."
Naruto picked up the vest. It was heavy, smelling of new fabric.
"Strategic thinking. Power. And most importantly—the willingness to sacrifice yourself for your comrades. You showed all the qualities of a commander," Hiruzen smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes smoothing out a little. "This is my last decree as Hokage. Congratulations on your promotion, Chunin Naruto Uzumaki."
Naruto squeezed the vest in his hands. A lump rose in his throat.
"Thanks, Old Man... I mean, Hokage-sama."
"No longer Hokage. And I like just 'Old Man' better anyway," Hiruzen chuckled, closing his eyes. "Now go. The village needs its heroes on the streets, not in hospital rooms."
***
The hospital corridors were full of wounded shinobi and civilians. Usually, passing through a crowd, Naruto was used to ignoring cold stares, whispers behind his back, or open rudeness. The instinct developed by years of isolation still lived in him.
But today everything was different.
When he passed the nurses' station, conversations ceased. But this time, it was the silence of respect.
A young Chunin with a bandaged arm, sitting in line, raised his head, saw Naruto, and nodded respectfully. An old woman, who used to chase him away from her stall, now looked at him with tears of gratitude in her eyes.
Naruto walked out onto the hospital porch.
The sun was setting, bathing the recovering Konoha in golden light. People on the street stopped. Some pointed at him, some smiled.
"Look! It's him!"
Naruto froze.
A girl of about five ran up to him. Her mother, instead of pulling the child back screaming "Get away from him!", stood nearby and smiled, pressing her hands to her chest.
"Big brother, are you the one who chased away the big monster?" the girl asked, holding out a flower—an ordinary field daisy that had broken through the city dust.
"Um... yes," Naruto was flustered, accepting the gift.
"Thank you!" she squeaked and ran back to her mom.
Naruto looked up.
The owner of a dango shop waved at him. A group of Genin passing by stopped and bowed their heads respectfully.
Naruto stood still. He felt their auras through his sensory perception. There was no fear of the Demon Fox in them. There was gratitude toward the Protector of the Village.
He remembered his oath. Become Hokage to protect those precious to me.
He hadn't become Hokage yet. But he had already protected them. And they understood that.
A strange feeling of warmth spread in his chest, mixing with his Qi. Acknowledgement. Not begged for with shouts or pranks, but earned through his own strength.
"Don't get used to it, kid," a familiar voice came from above. "Fame is a fickle thing. Today they love you, tomorrow they forget."
Jiraiya sat on the roof visor, swinging his leg.
Naruto looked up.
"I'm not looking for fame, Old Ma... ahem, Jiraiya-sensei. I'm just glad everyone is okay."
The Sannin jumped down, landing next to him without a sound. His face was serious, devoid of its usual carelessness.
"Hiruzen is retiring," he said directly. "The Daimyō's Council and the Elders are in panic. They need a strong leader to show other nations that Konoha is not broken. They offered the position to me."
"And?" Naruto raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"I refused. I'm not made for sitting in an office. But I promised to bring someone perfectly suited for the job. The Legendary Sucker. Tsunade."
Jiraiya looked at Naruto.
"I leave tomorrow. And you're coming with me."
"Why?" Naruto asked, although inside him everything tightened with anticipation.
"Because the Akatsuki have started to act. They are looking for Bijū. And you are their target. It's dangerous for you to stay in the village, but with me, you'll be under supervision."
Jiraiya placed a heavy hand on his student's shoulder.
"And also... I caught a glimpse of your fight with Shukaku. You survived, yes. Won, yes. But you were a hair's breadth from death. Your body barely withstood the overload, but your technique is still raw. Or take the last battle in the Forest of Death. If Orochimaru had decided to fight seriously, you would have been dead long ago."
Naruto clenched his fists. He knew it himself. He felt his ceiling. His current level allowed him to survive easily in the sandbox of ordinary shinobi. But in the world of real monsters, like Sannin or Bijū, he was still a child.
"I will make you a shinobi who doesn't faint after one serious battle," Jiraiya promised. "We'll find Tsunade, and along the way, I'll teach you what it means to be a true master. Are you ready?"
Naruto looked at his hands. The scars had already healed, but the memory of the pain remained.
He needed strength. Not to prove something to the villagers. But so that next time an enemy came, he wouldn't have to risk himself to win.
"Ready," Naruto said firmly. "What time do we leave?"
"At dawn. You have a day to get your affairs in order. Say goodbye to whoever you need to, pack your things. It will be a long journey."
Naruto nodded and looked toward the setting sun.