Danzō, that old schemer, had spent so many years lurking in the shadows and plotting that he had neglected real combat. At this point, he was only around pseudo-Kage level at best.
Sunagakure had it even worse. They didn't have a proper Kage-level fighter at all. Gaara might carry the title of Kazekage now, but in terms of strength, he was still only hovering around pseudo-Kage level.
That said, the boy was gifted. Give him a year to sharpen himself, and crossing into true Kage level shouldn't be a problem.
Gaara was the definition of a specialist. His ninjutsu was absurdly strong, but taijutsu was a glaring weakness.
Word was that he had recently started seeking out a taijutsu expert to patch that gap, so it probably wouldn't remain a flaw for long.
As for Kumogakure and Iwagakure, those two old military powers were still deeply rooted and absolutely not to be underestimated.
Whether it was the Fourth Raikage, that brute of a man, or Darui, Yugito Nii, and Killer B, they had Kage-level fighters to spare.
In both military strength and economic power, Kumogakure still sat firmly at the top among the Five Great Nations.
Iwagakure, while only really held up by Onoki, that stubborn old fossil, and Kitsuchi, still ranked solidly second overall.
Only after them came Konoha.
To put it bluntly, Konoha's paper strength right now could barely place it third among the great villages. And that was only because Akira existed as a kind of living deterrent, making the other nations think twice before letting war spill into the Land of Fire.
Akira was like a mobile strategic weapon, the kind of person who could decide the outcome of a war by himself. He was the cornerstone keeping Konoha standing secure.
Fortunately, neither Akira nor Tsunade were war-mad expansionists who dreamed of conquest.
Akira smiled faintly, a quiet dominance in his eyes.
"I don't care how many Kage-level fighters they have. As long as I'm here, the sky over Konoha isn't falling."
That wasn't blind arrogance.
That was confidence built on absolute power.
Looking across the current shinobi world, there truly weren't many people left who could make him feel cautious.
Even if the legendary Six Paths Madara himself came back, Akira would still be willing to test his strength against him.
Shizune might have heard that and dismissed it as youthful swagger, but Tsunade knew better.
Akira's true strength was impossible to measure. Even she, as the person closest to him, had only ever glimpsed the tip of the iceberg.
Just the eye power resting in those Rinnegan was enough to make her soul shiver. That was power that belonged to the realm of gods.
Not long after, Yamato met up with Naruto and Sakura, bringing along that fake-smiling boy named Sai, and soon the team departed from the village.
Life for Akira in Konoha was, honestly, pretty dull.
Most days, he either read books or sat with Tsunade helping her sort through paperwork.
The topics between them never strayed far from government affairs. After all, Akira's current role was still that of a shinobi. It wasn't as though he could drag the Hokage into a serious discussion about which ramen stand had the best broth.
At one point, Akira had enthusiastically tried teaching Tsunade a few powerful ninjutsu.
He gave up after only a few days.
That experience taught him something important. A person's natural talent spread wasn't something you could force.
Tsunade's combat style was straightforward and brutal by nature. Close-range combat, monstrous strength, and top-tier medical ninjutsu. That was the path that fit her best.
Instead of exhausting herself trying to master fancy jutsu that didn't suit her, she was better off just making her fists even harder.
If Tsunade had actually wanted to learn more ninjutsu, the Senju clan's hidden vaults were already overflowing with scrolls, filled with the finest techniques from all kinds of secret clans.
Forbidden arts that civilian shinobi could only dream of were, to the Senju, barely worth a second glance.
And that was without even mentioning the massive archive inside the Hokage Tower.
So it wasn't that Tsunade lacked resources.
She simply wasn't built for that kind of ninjutsu learning.
It had taken Akira an entire year just to teach her how to shape a Rasengan, and the process had been painful enough to scar the memory.
That didn't mean Tsunade was stupid. Far from it. It was just a matter of different strengths.
Medical ninjutsu demanded absurdly fine chakra control, and in that category there were very few people in the world who could rival Tsunade.
But when it came to shape transformation jutsu, she simply did not have the instinct for it.
In the end, Tsunade only learned two things from Akira.
One was the Rasengan.
The other was Lightning Flicker.
The only reason he had taught her Lightning Flicker at all was to shore up the weakness in her speed.
Truthfully, Tsunade was not slow.
It was just that back then, Madara Uchiha had compared her speed to the Fourth Raikage's, which was an absurd standard to begin with.
Across the entire shinobi world, you could count on one hand the number of people faster than the Fourth Raikage.
Speed was his entire identity. Being slower than him was normal. Being faster than him was monstrous.
After learning Lightning Flicker, Tsunade's mobility did improve by a whole tier. She still couldn't catch the Fourth Raikage, but at least now she could see his taillights.
Just when Akira had started to think this peaceful stretch might continue for a while, the ninja world, as always, found a way to stir up trouble.
That day, Akira was lounging on the sofa in the Hokage's office, flipping through a leisure book, when the doors were suddenly slammed open.
Shizune rushed in, panic written all over her face.
Akira looked up at her, still seated comfortably.
"Shizune-onee-san, did the sky fall? You look like the world's ending."
At the same time, Tsunade, who had been napping face-down at her desk, was jolted awake by the noise. She lifted her head groggily, a shining line of drool still hanging from the corner of her mouth.
Seeing the Hokage grin sleepily and greet her like that, Shizune could only press a hand to her forehead in helpless exasperation.
"Oh, Shizune. What time is it?"
To be fair, that completely defenseless sleepy look was actually a little cute.
At least, if one ignored the drool.
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