The director of the medical department hesitated, his expression shifting slightly. He glanced around to make sure no one else was within earshot before lowering his voice.
"I'm afraid… the Fourth Hokage will need a long period of recovery."
Hiruzen Sarutobi raised an eyebrow at that. "How long are we talking about? Can you be more specific?"
"I… can't say for certain what exactly happened to him," the medical director replied cautiously, clearly aware of how sensitive the matter was.
"His condition is extremely complicated. The least serious injury is a set of fractured ribs—that, at least, is manageable.
But beyond that… his overall bodily functions are severely impaired. Nearly every organ shows signs of damage, and his internal state is extremely weak. To be honest, when I first examined him, I thought he wouldn't survive."
He paused, as if choosing his words carefully.
"And yet, strangely enough… despite being in such a weakened state, his life force remains stable. There's a kind of energy within him—something filled with vitality—that's sustaining him and allowing his body to recover.
Still, recovery will take time. Based on our initial estimates… it may take several years for him to fully heal without lasting complications."
Several years.
Hiruzen fell silent at those words. After a moment, he gave a calm nod and dismissed the medical director.
Then, without another word, he made his way toward Minato Namikaze's hospital room.
Minato's condition had exceeded his expectations—but overall, it was still good news.
Even if Natsuhiko had clearly aligned himself with Minato, even if the silent struggle between him and Minato would continue… it was still far better than losing Konoha's Hokage entirely.
However, on his way here, he had received another piece of information.
Natsuhiko had already visited.
Not only that—Minato had dismissed all ANBU guards and spoken with him alone for quite some time.
That detail made Hiruzen's brows knit tightly together. Something about this didn't sit right with him.
Why would Natsuhiko come at a time like this? What exactly was he after?
Then, suddenly, realization struck him.
His pace quickened.
"Minato!"
He pushed open the door to the hospital room without hesitation—and the moment his eyes fell upon the scene inside, his pupils contracted slightly.
Minato was writing something.
"Lord Third."
Minato looked up, offering his usual gentle smile. "Thank you for coming to see me."
"You've only just woken up. There's no need to exert yourself like this," Hiruzen said as he stepped closer.
But the moment his gaze fell upon the document in Minato's hands, his expression changed completely.
Because he could see it clearly—
Minato was drafting an official appointment for the ANBU commander.
And when his eyes landed on the name written there—Senju Natsuhiko—his face darkened even further.
Just as he had feared.
Things were unfolding in exactly the direction he had hoped to avoid.
"Isn't this… a bit too hasty?" Hiruzen asked carefully, a hint of hesitation in his voice. "Murashima Takumi has only just died—and at the hands of Natsuhiko, no less. Under these circumstances…"
"Lord Third," Minato interrupted calmly, his tone firm despite his weakened state, "Natsuhiko's strength is something we've all witnessed. His contributions during this incident… I doubt many could match them."
"But Murashima Takumi's death—"
"I'm aware," Minato said, cutting him off again. "I've already heard the details. His actions may have been extreme, but they were done for Konoha's sake.
And now that the position stands vacant, I believe it's worth giving him a chance."
He paused briefly, his gaze steady as it met Hiruzen's.
"Or perhaps… Lord Third has a better way to reward Natsuhiko for everything he's done during the Nine-Tails incident?"
Minato's question was sharp—painfully so—and grounded in an undeniable reality.
The impact of Natsuhiko's actions within Konoha was beyond estimation. It wasn't just the village either; what had transpired the previous night had almost certainly spread beyond its borders by now. Every village had spies—this was no secret—and for the great nations, keeping those spies alive was often more practical than eliminating them.
After all, when major decisions were made, those same spies could carry the information back. As long as the most critical secrets weren't exposed, the great villages would simply turn a blind eye. Sometimes, they even made use of them—disposing of a few when convenient, spinning it into propaganda to defuse internal tensions.
As long as they didn't overstep, these spies lived in a strange kind of safety.
And during the chaos of the Nine-Tails incident, that safety had allowed them to transmit information immediately. Konoha had neither the time nor the capacity to stop them—its own crisis demanded all its attention.
Hiruzen Sarutobi could already imagine the outcome. By now, reports detailing the incident—and especially the figure who had stolen the spotlight—were likely sitting on the desks of every Kage across the nations.
The casualty numbers might not yet be fully compiled, but Natsuhiko's performance had been far too eye-catching to ignore. If Konoha failed to reward such merit, the resulting consequences… even he could not predict how severe they might become.
And in truth, events were unfolding exactly as he expected.
...
In Sunagakure, within the Land of Wind, Rasa stared at the report before him, his expression shifting unpredictably.
If there was one village with the most complicated relationship with Konoha, it was undoubtedly Suna.
The Third Great Ninja War had begun with Suna's invasion of Konoha—and it had also been Suna that surrendered first. Though the two villages had since formed an alliance for the sake of stability, everyone understood how fragile that alliance truly was.
Otherwise, Suna wouldn't have sent ANBU disguised as Iwa shinobi to attack Konoha outposts. Nor would there have been that disastrous incident involving Yashamaru—an operation that ended in humiliation.
Over a hundred shinobi had perished in that single mission, including two ANBU divisions and an entire sealing unit. Worse still, their encrypted intelligence had been compromised, all because Konoha had obtained information related to Pakura's mission.
The scale of that loss was staggering.
And because of that incident, Rasa had etched one name deeply into his memory—
Nightingale of Konoha.
He had a strong feeling that this individual would one day shake the entire shinobi world. And now, the events of the Nine-Tails disaster seemed to confirm it.
According to the report, a single ANBU operative had managed to hold back the Nine-Tails alone.
At first, Rasa had his doubts. The Nightingale he remembered had displayed remarkable combat ability, yes—but his strengths had seemed rooted more in Flying Thunder God techniques and conventional elemental ninjutsu.
But then he reached the section describing the mask.
And in that instant, his composure faltered.
The description matched perfectly with reports from Suna's shinobi months earlier—down to the smallest detail.
ANBU masks were never arbitrary. Across all villages, they followed strict identity conventions. A mask was more than just a disguise—it was a legacy.
Even in death or retirement, it remained bound to its bearer… unless it was personally passed on to a successor.
Which meant—
There was no mistake.
The one who had stood against the Nine-Tails that night… was the same man.
It wasn't just the mask—the description of the man's build matched perfectly as well. At that point, Rasa was almost certain: the one who had held back the Nine-Tails was none other than Konoha's "Nightingale."
But what came next was even more terrifying.
As his trembling hand flipped to the latter part of the report and his eyes landed on the section describing Wood Release, he could no longer remain seated.
"That damned bastard… he's a Senju? He's actually a Senju! And not just that—a Senju who has mastered Wood Release!"
Rasa shot to his feet, slamming his fist down onto the desk with such force that it shattered instantly. The fragments scattered across the floor, but he paid them no mind. His thoughts were in complete turmoil—never, not even in his wildest dreams, had he imagined that man would turn out to be a member of the Senju clan.
If it were just an ordinary Senju, perhaps it wouldn't have mattered so much. But Rasa knew all too well what the name Senju truly represented. He had not forgotten the overwhelming terror that Hashirama Senju had once instilled across the shinobi world.
That legendary Wood Release alone had been enough to make every nation tremble. Otherwise, how could Konoha have controlled the Nine-Tails? How could it have stood as the strongest village in the world?
Perhaps it was fate's cruel irony that such prodigies burned too brightly. After their cataclysmic clash, both Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha had perished together, their deaths allowing the rest of the world to finally breathe again.
They had simply been too powerful.
And yet now… another wielder of Wood Release had appeared.
Worse still, this man had done something eerily similar—facing the Nine-Tails alone and holding it back through sheer power.
Rasa didn't fully understand just how terrifying the Nine-Tails was, but the devastation inflicted upon Konoha painted a clear enough picture. To stand against such a force alone… no matter how one looked at it, it was monstrous.
"Lord Kazekage."
The door to the office opened as Chiyo stepped inside, her brows already furrowed. She had heard that intelligence from Konoha had arrived and had come immediately.
If there was anyone who harbored deep resentment toward Konoha, she was certainly among them. The events involving Natsuhiko in the past were not something she could simply forget.
But the sight before her caught her off guard—Rasa's agitation was far beyond what she had expected.
"Elder Chiyo… you're here."
Forcing himself to steady his emotions, Rasa bent down, picked up the scattered report, and handed it to her.
"Take a look. You'll understand."
Chiyo frowned, accepting the documents and quickly scanning through them. Yet before long, her expression changed just as drastically as Rasa's had.
She shook her head in disbelief, then reread the report carefully, as if hoping she had misunderstood something. Only after confirming it again did she slowly look up at him.
"Is it confirmed?" Her voice trembled faintly. "Is it really that man?"
Rasa let out a weary sigh. "We'll need further verification. Perhaps… you should have your brother investigate more thoroughly."
"I understand." Chiyo nodded slowly, her face grim. "This is truly terrible news."
"Indeed," Rasa echoed. "A nightmare..."
..
In Kumogakure, within the Land of Lightning, the Fourth Raikage sat in silence, the report clenched in his hand as he fell into deep thought.
Like Sunagakure, he had received the urgent intelligence early that morning.
At first, he hadn't paid it much attention. In fact, when he read that Konoha had been ravaged by the Nine-Tails, he had even felt a flicker of satisfaction.
It had been over a year since he took control of Kumogakure, and after a long period of restructuring and purging dissent, he had largely secured his authority. Though a few stubborn figures still clung to their positions, relying on their seniority to resist him, they no longer posed any real concern.
At least… that had been the case—until now.
Men like that would eventually be swept into the dustbin of history—or forced to submit of their own accord.
The Fourth Raikage had left them no room to retreat, nor had he shown them any mercy. The only reason he hadn't acted yet was to avoid throwing the village into chaos. He might be impulsive by nature, but after a year as Raikage, he had learned restraint.
More importantly, he had never lacked ambition.
His goal was simple and unwavering—to elevate Kumogakure above all others and dethrone Konoha as the strongest village in the shinobi world.
For that reason, even now, he had never truly reconciled with Konoha. Though open war had ceased, in truth, the two villages remained in a state of silent conflict.
Kumogakure had indeed suffered losses during the Third Great Ninja War, most notably the death of the Third Raikage. Yet those losses were more damaging in terms of reputation than manpower. The village's image had taken a severe hit, and that loss of prestige translated directly into fewer missions. Smaller clients hesitated to trust a village that had lost its Kage.
"...Hmph. Hasn't Konoha lost Kage as well?"
"Why is it that when my father fell, they lost faith in us?"
"And what about the fact that he stood alone against ten thousand enemies—why does no one talk about that?"
"Besides, the war with Konoha never truly ended. Did they really win?"
These questions had lingered in the Fourth Raikage's mind for a long time, feeding his dissatisfaction with Konoha and strengthening his resolve to surpass it.
In contrast to their damaged reputation, Kumogakure's military strength had not suffered heavily. Aside from deploying several thousand shinobi to the Land of Hot Water to clash with Konoha, they had avoided large-scale engagements elsewhere. Even those forces had not taken significant losses—Konoha had been fighting on multiple fronts and simply couldn't commit overwhelming numbers against them.
Most of their encounters had been small-scale skirmishes… along with that one battle he could never forget.
The fight where he and Killer B had faced Minato Namikaze together.
It was not a memory he liked to revisit. Two against one—and yet they had failed to defeat him. Worse still, they had been forced into a draw. No matter how one looked at it, it was humiliating.
And yet, despite that humiliation, the broader truth remained: Konoha had won the war, albeit barely, and at a tremendous cost. That fact alone had long served as one of the Raikage's key motivations for plotting against them.
But today, he had received a report—one so shocking that even he could not remain calm.
"So Konoha has produced another Wood Release user… another Senju rising from the ashes?"
His gaze turned cold as he stared at the document in his hand. Now that he was Raikage, he had access to far more information than before, including detailed accounts of Hashirama Senju—the man who had once ended an era of chaos.
He understood, at least to some extent, just how terrifying that legend truly was.
Wood Release… a power so overwhelming that even the tailed beasts feared it. Among the older generation, it remained a shadow that refused to fade. There were even veterans in Kumogakure who had personally clashed with Hashirama Senju in the past—back when they had attempted to capture the Eight-Tails.
The result?
A crushing defeat.
Even the First Raikage had been crushed. Their elites, their Kage— even the Eight-Tails itself—none had stood a chance. They had been completely overwhelmed, without the slightest opportunity to turn the tide.
That kind of power… it wasn't merely strong. It was beyond comparison.
"And this man…" the Raikage muttered, his grip tightening around the report, "is the same 'Nightingale' who caused chaos in Sunagakure not long ago. Not only does he have the Wood Release, but he's mastered the Flying Thunder God as well?"
That technique was all too familiar.
Wasn't it the very same jutsu used by Minato Namikaze?
And not just him—Tobirama Senju, the Second Hokage who had once died at Kumogakure's hands and whose death had ignited the Second Great Ninja War, had been a master of it as well.
A user of both Wood Release and the Flying Thunder God…
The implications were impossible to ignore.
To the Fourth Raikage, the Flying Thunder God Technique alone carried a level of deterrence no less than what Minato Namikaze represented to Iwagakure.
What he truly couldn't comprehend was how Konoha had produced such a monster.
According to the intelligence, this "Nightingale" of Konoha was barely fourteen or fifteen years old. And yet, at such an age, he had not only mastered the Flying Thunder God Technique—but also Wood Release?
What kind of genius could possibly reach such a level?
Every technique required relentless training, countless repetitions before one could wield it with ease. And yet this boy was said to be highly proficient not only in those abilities, but also in Water Release and Earth Release.
Had he been training since the moment he was conceived?
Or was he the kind of prodigy who could achieve perfect mastery the instant he learned something?
"…He's practically a fusion of the First and Second Hokage."
The Raikage shook his head and let out a quiet sigh. But as that sigh faded, something fierce ignited within his eyes—a blazing, irrepressible fighting spirit.
A grin slowly spread across his face, and the fire in his gaze burned ever brighter.
"Interesting… truly interesting. If I never get the chance to face such a genius, that would be a real shame."
"With an opponent like this, now that would be worth something."
He had no intention of abandoning his ambitions. Though Natsuhiko's emergence gave him a headache, it also stirred something deep within him. As someone born and raised in the Land of Lightning, the instinct for battle ran in his blood.
He was a warrior who thrived on challenge.
And now that such an opponent had appeared, he felt no fear—only excitement.
This, he thought, was exactly the kind of enemy worth overcoming… worth crushing beneath his feet.
"Konoha's Nightingale… or perhaps I should call you by your true name, a Senju."
"I'll remember you. I'll make sure I never forget."
...
In Iwagakure, Ōnoki sat quietly behind his desk, flipping through a stack of documents that required his approval, while Kitsuchi stood nearby, visibly restless.
He didn't dare disturb his father—especially not while he was working—but that didn't make standing there any more bearable.
Becoming Tsuchikage was a dream many held, and he understood that well. But he also understood the weight that came with that position, because he saw it every day in his father's work.
And honestly… he didn't like it.
Compared to sitting behind a desk, he preferred the battlefield.
Even though he knew his father was grooming him, giving him a better starting point than most, he still couldn't bring himself to enjoy any of it.
But defiance was not an option.
His father was no gentle man, and so he endured, waiting for the day Ōnoki might finally give up on molding him into the next Tsuchikage.
What frustrated him most today, however, was how unusually long his father had been reviewing those documents.
Normally, he would have finished by now.
That alone made him curious—what kind of intelligence report could hold his father's attention for so long?
If not for his discipline, he might have already leaned over to take a look himself.
"…How interesting."
Just as his curiosity reached its peak, Ōnoki suddenly let out a quiet remark.
"Father, what is it?" Kitsuchi asked immediately, unable to hide his relief. At last, he was done.
Still, he kept his tone respectful, though his curiosity was obvious. He genuinely wanted to know what kind of information had captivated his father for so long.
"You did fairly well today—at the very least, you weren't as impatient as usual, Kitsuchi."
Ōnoki turned to glance at his son, giving a faint nod of approval. Yet almost immediately, he shook his head again, as though reconsidering something.
"As for what I saw…" he continued, his voice growing distant, "all I can say is that it leaves one with a great deal to reflect on. The changes in the shinobi world… sometimes they really do feel like a cycle repeating itself."
He paused there, unable to deny the thought taking shape in his mind. The shinobi world was, in truth, nothing more than an enormous cycle.
War itself was a cycle. Even though everyone knew that war brought no real benefit to the world as a whole, that understanding had never been enough to stop it.
For the sake of development, for the interests of their respective villages, people would still throw themselves into conflict without hesitation—each side driven by its own motives, all hoping to seize whatever gains they could from the chaos.
During the First Great Ninja War, the brothers known as Kinkaku and Ginkaku of Kumogakure launched a coup within their own village. Not only did they kill the Second Raikage, they also dragged the Second Hokage into their downfall.
That incident became the spark that ignited the war, and before long, the flames spread across the entire shinobi world.
In the Second Great Ninja War, Hanzō of the Land of Rain—the so-called demigod—launched his campaign in pursuit of greater territory and stronger development for his nation.
That war, too, engulfed the world. Every village, whether to defend their homeland or to expand their influence, was forced—or chose—to take part.
As for the recently concluded Third Great Ninja War, at its core, it was little more than a conflict born of shifting internal tensions.
After all, the relative peace following the Second War had given every village time to recover… and with that recovery, their ambitions began to stir once more.
War, in Ōnoki's eyes, was nothing but a deeply ironic cycle.
And yet this time, it felt as though the cycle had shifted. It was no longer just war repeating itself—time itself seemed to be looping back.
Konoha had produced someone like that once again.
The "Nightingale of Konoha"… Ōnoki knew of him well. He had not forgotten the chaos that man had stirred in the Land of Wind just a few months ago, nor the fact that he wielded the Flying Thunder God Technique with remarkable skill.
What he had not expected, however, was that this man not only possessed that technique… but was also a member of the Senju clan.
When news broke that the Nine-Tails had run rampant in Konoha, Ōnoki had, admittedly, felt a trace of satisfaction. Relations among the Five Great Ninja Villages had never been good, after all.
Whenever one village suffered a major setback, it was inevitably good news for the others.
In truth, the Five Great Villages behaved like tyrants within the shinobi world. The smaller nations had little power to resist them—many didn't even possess their own hidden villages, and were often reduced to mere dependents of the great powers.
If one rival weakened—or better yet, fell entirely—the remaining four would naturally find ways to carve up the benefits.
The most immediate opportunity lay in the redistribution of missions, a crucial source of income for any village.
And yet, after witnessing Nightingale's performance, Ōnoki could only let out a quiet sigh.
In some ways, that man had already begun to offset Konoha's disadvantages.
"A cycle?" Kitsuchi scratched his head, clearly puzzled by his father's words. "Does that mean someone died?"
"Rather…" Ōnoki shook his head calmly, "you could say that something has come back to life. Two ghosts have returned."
Seeing the confusion deepen on his son's face, Ōnoki quickly realized that his meaning had been completely lost on him.
But he hadn't expected Kitsuchi to understand.
It was obvious enough—his son had no real interest in becoming Tsuchikage. What he wanted was to remain a shinobi, a warrior on the battlefield, not a leader burdened with the weight of an entire village.
Unfortunately, Ōnoki had yet to find a more suitable successor, and so he had no choice but to continue as things were.
He knew well that forcing someone into a role against their will would never yield good results.
And yet… he had his own selfish desires, too.
Then again, which of the Kage did not?
After all, not everyone could be like the Senju brothers—Hashirama and Tobirama. Even Tobirama, for all his principles, had ultimately chosen a successor from within his own circle.
"Forget it, I'll explain it to you this way." Ōnoki flicked the document in his hand outward, letting it fall aside. "Something went wrong with Konoha's Nine-Tails. It broke free from its seal and caused massive destruction. Nearly half the village is gone… but—"
"There's actually something this good?" Kitsuchi cut him off before he could finish, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Half the village destroyed? Doesn't that mean Konoha's basically been set back forty or fifty years?"
"You—" Ōnoki's irritation flared at being interrupted, but as he processed Kitsuchi's words, he suddenly froze.
He rubbed his chin, quietly comparing the current Konoha to the one from decades ago… and to his surprise, the resemblance was striking.
Letting out a long sigh, he muttered, "You're not wrong. Konoha really has been pushed back forty or fifty years…"
"Not just in terms of its size," he added softly, his gaze growing distant, "but even the ghosts from that era have returned."
...
After the chaos of the previous day, news of Natsuhiko had already spread throughout the entire shinobi world. His existence had forced every Kage to reconsider their assumptions.
Perhaps the only exception was Kirigakure of the Land of Water—though that was hardly surprising. Their Mizukage was already under control, and the true mastermind behind the Nine-Tails incident, Obito, had no reason to question what he himself had set in motion.
Still, none of this had much immediate impact on Natsuhiko.
Everything was only just beginning, and more importantly, he had to take command of the ANBU that now belonged to him.
There was no room for carelessness in this matter, nor could he afford even the slightest delay.
The ANBU was, after all, a prize too valuable to ignore—its authority so vast that it bordered on unimaginable.
Precisely because of that immense power, its official numbers were kept deliberately small. A single ANBU "unit" consisted of barely over thirty members—an almost absurd figure when compared to standard shinobi organization.
In a typical Konoha structure, a unit would include four to five squads, each commanding nearly ten teams. By that standard, a normal unit should have around two hundred shinobi.
But the ANBU?
It essentially treated the size of a single squad as an entire unit. The purpose was obvious—to prevent its already vast authority from growing even further through sheer numbers.
Root operated in a similar fashion. Its official roster wasn't particularly large either, but it had one key advantage: infiltration missions in enemy nations.
Because of those missions, Root could quietly expand its influence by cultivating unofficial operatives. The more transparent ANBU, however, had no such luxury.
Now, Natsuhiko had already donned his ANBU uniform and mask, his official appointment letter in hand. There was no time to waste—he needed to act quickly and accomplish what had to be done.
"After all, Hiruzen Sarutobi already knows about this. If I don't move fast, he'll make his own moves first… and I can't allow that."
With that thought in mind, Natsuhiko moved swiftly. Facing the ANBU built by Hiruzen himself, he couldn't afford even the slightest complacency.
He had no intention of becoming a hollow commander, a mere figurehead stripped of real authority. If he wanted control, he would have to act decisively—and ruthlessly if necessary.
Fortunately, he had Namikaze Minato backing him. And with Minato still recovering, there was no risk of interference or complications. That gave Natsuhiko the freedom to act without restraint.
It didn't take long before he arrived at the ANBU headquarters. As he stood there, he couldn't help but feel a quiet sense of nostalgia.
This wasn't his first time here. During his six years in the ANBU, he had come and gone from this place dozens of times.
But this visit was different.
This time, he wasn't just another operative.
He was about to become its true master—the one who would command the entire ANBU.
"Come to think of it…" he murmured under his breath, standing still as if caught between past and present.
"If I hadn't joined the ANBU back then… if I'd gone to the battlefield instead…"
His voice trailed off, tinged with faint reminiscence.
"Maybe I'd be just an ordinary shinobi now. And with the Nine-Tails incident… I might even have had a shot at becoming a jōnin squad leader."
The position of Jonin Squad Leader—though it sounds like a simple class designation—was without a doubt one of the most important in Konoha's history. Every elite ninja, every clan head, all fell under this system.
Being a Jonin was as close as anyone could get to the true core of Konoha's power. Even the selection of the Hokage traditionally began within the ranks of the Jonin squads.
Perhaps the only one to ever break that tradition was Naruto in the future… though Natsuhiko wasn't even sure if Naruto technically became a Jonin.
After all, during the Chunin Exams, he had accidentally entered Sage Mode against Konohamaru; chances were, he hadn't even truly reached Chunin-level proficiency.
Shaking his head, Natsuhiko pushed aside thoughts of Jonin Squad Leader ambitions. That was pure fantasy. If he were to truly claim that position, it would mean completely overpowering Hiruzen Sarutobi himself, seizing Konoha's reins entirely—but as long as Hiruzen was capable, there was no way he could hope to take the post.
Moreover, being part of the ANBU meant his ninja rank had long been hidden. Whether he officially qualified as a Jonin or not was irrelevant. In truth, while he likely met the rank's requirements, the flexibility in the system was far too unpredictable, and Natsuhiko had no interest in challenging such bureaucracy.
"Looks like everyone's here," he murmured as he entered the ANBU headquarters and stepped into the main hall. His eyes swept across the assembled ninja—every member of the Anbu had gathered, and he nodded lightly in acknowledgment.
Before arriving, he had already instructed the Third Division to notify all ANBU members to set aside their missions and report to headquarters. While the command itself was audacious—he was, after all, merely the commander of the Third ANBU —after everything that had happened last night, no one dared refuse him.
Even the commanders of the First and Second Divisiions couldn't argue. They hadn't expected Natsuhiko to be this strong, and they certainly hadn't expected him to be a Senju.
Under all eyes, Natsuhiko moved forward with deliberate, steady steps. Each footfall radiated a presence so potent that every ANBU member felt it pressing against them.
He didn't head toward the front of the Third Division, instead walking steadily toward the very front of the hall.
The Third Division members' eyes gleamed at this, while those who had witnessed his extraordinary feats seemed to burn with a quiet, fierce excitement.
The commanders of the First and Second Divisions' expressions tightened; by protocol, Natsuhiko's action was a blatant overstep. His actions last night had already been extreme—a textbook example of undermining the established order.
And if one included the humiliation he had inflicted upon Danzo and Root, this young man had proven himself a habitual disruptor.
"Has the village imposed no punishment at all? How could they even… allow him—"
Even as the two commanders' gazes filled with disbelief, Natsuhiko reached the very front of the hall and turned to face them.
He paused, then slowly removed his mask, revealing a calm, gentle smile. It was a smile that radiated warmth, like sunlight spilling into the room. His voice, calm and measured, followed.
"Hello, everyone. For most of you, this is probably the first time seeing my face without a mask. My name is Natsuhiko… Senju Natsuhiko."