Humm—!
Hikaru's blade came down—and cut only air.
The "Hikaru" Minato had been facing vanished so completely it was as if he'd never existed at all.
Hikaru didn't show the slightest emotion. He simply drew his blade back and sheathed it with unhurried calm, then turned his eyes to the side.
Minato was standing atop a tall tree, looking down at him.
There was approval in Minato's gaze.
And there was also something like disbelief.
The approval was simple: Hikaru's use of Flying Thunder God had already reached an excellent level, and Minato could claim part of that credit—he had taught Hikaru, after all.
Watching someone take what you'd taught, digest it completely, and then produce results with it…
That kind of satisfaction was real.
Minato couldn't help feeling pleased.
But the disbelief—
That came from Hikaru's level of proficiency.
Minato already knew when Hikaru had placed the mark on him.
And precisely because he knew, it felt almost absurd.
It had happened at the instant Hikaru's fist brushed him during an exchange.
Minato had dodged.
But Hikaru's punch had also definitely touched him.
After Hikaru activated Sage Mode, the two of them had barely managed to truly "connect" with one another at all. Their reactions were too sharp, their self-protection too refined. Actual contact opportunities were rare enough to count on one hand.
Minato could seize such chances because his Flying Thunder God control was close to the extreme.
He'd done something similar before—during Kakashi's first real use of Chidori, Minato had been able to save Kakashi and leave a mark on the enemy in the same breath.
But Hikaru?
How long had Hikaru been in contact with Flying Thunder God?
How long had he even been able to use it?
Minato had personally witnessed Hikaru learning sealing arts. He'd seen Hikaru's first Flying Thunder God use.
Back then, Hikaru's opponent had been strong, yes—but it was a taijutsu specialist, and Hikaru had time to set up.
Tonight was different.
Tonight, neither of them knew when they might get a real opening.
And yet in that split-second—under pressure—Hikaru still caught the moment and left a mark without giving Minato even a sliver of space to notice.
This was beyond what "talent" should reasonably explain.
And yet Minato could only call it talent.
Because what else could it be?
That someone was secretly training Hikaru?
That Hikaru could touch a technique once and instantly master it?
Minato shook his head, almost amused by how ridiculous his thoughts were becoming.
Even if the Sage of Six Paths were alive, could he do something like that?
"…You're amazing." Minato looked at Hikaru from the tree, his tone full of genuine admiration. "I didn't expect your mastery of Flying Thunder God to reach this level already."
"If not for Hokage-sama's guidance, I wouldn't be where I am." Hikaru bowed respectfully.
On this point, he was being sincere.
Without Minato personally teaching him, he wouldn't have progressed so quickly.
Of course, Hikaru also knew the one he should truly thank was his "cheat"—but that wasn't a person, and it certainly wasn't something he could share.
Most importantly, it wasn't something that could talk back.
"This is your talent. I didn't help you that much." Minato lowered his kunai, smiling faintly as he caught the sincerity in Hikaru's voice.
Seeing Minato relax, Hikaru smoothly put away his own ninja blade as well.
Minato clearly had no intention of continuing.
And honestly, the fight had already been enough.
Hikaru had learned what he needed—his strengths, and his gaps.
His overall combat ability was high, but compared to true monsters, there was still distance.
People might point out that Hikaru had toyed with Kakuzu before, and had escaped Sasori.
But Hikaru understood the truth better than anyone:
Neither of them had been fighting him seriously.
More importantly—they hadn't known his information.
For shinobi, information was everything.
Given how poor human durability was in this world, once you understood an opponent's abilities and found a weakness, even a weaker shinobi could kill them through planning.
Hikaru had thought about it more than once—
If Jiraiya had known the Rinnegan's abilities before challenging Nagato, could he have killed his wayward student and ended the "teacher slain by student" tradition that seemed to haunt the shinobi world?
Hikaru felt the chances would've been high.
After all, even Jiraiya's clone could press Isshiki's vessel to the point of desperation.
With Minato, it was different.
Minato knew some of Hikaru's capabilities, and Minato's overall strength was higher to begin with.
And Hikaru had voluntarily revealed Sage Mode.
In that situation, Minato naturally fought with proper caution.
Reaching this point was enough.
"And it's not suitable to keep fighting now," Hikaru thought, glancing at the devastation around them.
The cratered ground.
The snapped branches everywhere.
It wouldn't take long before ANBU teams arrived to investigate.
Even if Hikaru was ANBU, and Minato was the Hokage, neither of them wanted this to become public knowledge.
"It's late. Let's stop here for tonight." Minato nodded to him. "I can't do much… but I hope you truly become Division Commander."
"I hope so too." Hikaru smiled again, gentle as ever. "Even if it's regrettable… I respect Hokage-sama's decision."
Minato sighed softly at that.
His smile faded, his gaze sharpening into something more serious—
But only for a moment.
That seriousness melted into helplessness and a bitter smile.
"…You still blame me a little, don't you? For not making the decision directly."
Minato spoke quietly, eyes lifting toward the silver moon.
His thoughts seemed to drift far away.
"I know. If I took a hard stance, I could have forced that position into your hands.
"And I know that being overly cautious, too strictly bound by so-called rules… can be an admirable quality in ordinary times.
"But in other times…"
Minato's voice grew heavier.
"That kind of behavior can injure not only the one who holds power… but also the people who follow them."
Hikaru's scalp nearly went cold.
Because those were words frighteningly close to what Sarutobi Hiruzen himself had said—Hiruzen's private assessment of Minato.
But Hikaru forced himself steady.
This was exactly the moment panic would ruin everything.
So he stayed calm, and waited to hear what Minato truly meant.
"However—ANBU is Konoha's ANBU."
Minato lowered his gaze, looking directly at Hikaru now, solemn and unshakable.
"It doesn't belong to me. And it doesn't belong to the Third Hokage either.
"ANBU exists to protect Konoha. And the Division Commander is a critical part of that structure.
"I don't want an unqualified person sitting in a seat they don't deserve.
"This thinking may be old-fashioned."
Minato's voice was quiet, but every word landed like steel.
"But I have never forgotten what I am.
"I am a shinobi of Konoha—
And I am Konoha's Hokage!"
"…Konoha's Hokage, huh."
Later that night, Hikaru lay in bed, staring at the bright moon outside his window, thinking of Minato's words.
They were plain.
But somehow… they were also deeply unsettling.
If Hikaru had to judge them, he'd call it a great ideal—
And also, in a way, naïve.
Not allowing the wrong person to sit in the wrong seat… could that truly be done in this world?
Hikaru wasn't convinced.
In his previous life, he'd seen plenty of "interesting" realities.
In many Western countries, for example, key positions weren't filled by the most suitable person at all—they were filled through compromises, deals, and exchanges of interest.
Sometimes it was even worse:
Sometimes people were placed into important seats specifically to conceal mistakes.
Or to set them up.
Hikaru remembered a classic joke—
An agriculture expert was placed in charge of diplomacy instead of being allowed to do what he was actually good at.
Why?
Because if you let him do what he was skilled at, he might uncover problems he wasn't supposed to see—and that would trigger bigger trouble.
But if you threw him into diplomacy—something he didn't understand—then he wouldn't discover those problems.
And since he wasn't competent, he'd naturally make mistakes.
Once he made mistakes, dealing with him became far easier.
If the situation was minor, you could forgive him and look magnanimous, gaining his loyalty.
If the situation was serious, you could throw him out as a scapegoat and let him carry the blame.
"…But someone who truly thinks the way Minato does—and acts on it…"
Hikaru exhaled, then stopped thinking.
"Maybe only Namikaze Minato."
Whether Minato's mindset was simply because he was new to the seat and hadn't fully adapted yet…
Or whether he truly intended to keep walking this path forever…
It wasn't something Hikaru needed to decide tonight.
He still had something else to prepare.
He needed to craft what he would give Sarutobi Hiruzen—materials about his interaction with Minato.
Those "materials" didn't require much selection.
Hikaru had already decided what they would look like.
He would block out everything that suggested deeper, more intimate exchange with Minato.
If tonight hadn't happened, Hikaru might have considered showing Hiruzen more value by revealing a little more about what he and Minato discussed.
But now, Hikaru chose to present his relationship with Minato as something simple:
Teacher and student.
Instruction and learning.
So in those materials, he had to conceal a great deal.
As for the rest, he could be honest.
Most of it wasn't critical information anyway—largely just Minato teaching him sealing arts.
And to make the report "flawless" in Hiruzen's eyes, Hikaru also intended to hand over some of his Flying Thunder God insights.
"Though my Flying Thunder God isn't something a normal person can learn."
Hikaru chuckled silently.
After all, the System had given him the most complete, most original version.
He was almost looking forward to seeing Hiruzen take his "complete" materials and have someone try them.
If someone actually learned it—
Then all Hikaru could say was that Tobirama Senju must've been reincarnated.
The next morning, Hikaru rose early.
But he didn't return to his division's compound. Instead, he stayed home and quickly wrote everything he needed.
He didn't have to rush to report in today.
He needed to submit certain personal materials at headquarters—
And he could use that chance to deliver what he'd prepared for Hiruzen as well.
The materials were simple.
The only truly annoying part was his Flying Thunder God notes.
He had intended to submit them in full, but after thinking it through, he decided to trim them slightly.
It wasn't as if anyone could learn it just because he wrote it down.
If he cut a bit here and there, Hiruzen's side wouldn't be able to tell.
Why make it harder on himself?
Once everything was ready, he headed straight to ANBU headquarters.
To keep tasking efficient and division management clean, each division had its own stationing area. The headquarters housed mostly reserves, administrative staff, intelligence and logistics.
But every division was close enough to respond instantly to major missions or urgent meetings.
Mask on, head lowered, Hikaru moved silently deeper inside.
Several ANBU members noticed him, and some stepped forward to check him—
But Hikaru was legitimate ANBU. He had clearance and identification.
With little effort, he entered the core area.
And under watchful eyes, he made his way to the Director's office.
The surveillance was expected. Strictly speaking, it wasn't even noteworthy.
Because the moment Hikaru stepped into the Director's office, he felt even more eyes on him.
"It's you… Nightingale?" Murashima Takumi was inside. He glanced once and immediately recognized him. "Here to submit your report?"
"Yes." Hikaru bowed slightly. "Besides my own report, I also have another report. I hope Director-sama will forward it to the Hokage."
He placed one report on the desk.
Then he offered the second file forward.
"Thank you for your trouble, Director-sama."
A report for the Hokage?
Murashima Takumi stared at Hikaru for a moment.
Then, without even looking at the document, he lowered his head and continued working.
He didn't reach out.
He didn't accept it.
Hikaru's brows knit faintly.
What was this?
A deliberate snub? A petty attempt to assert authority?
Or had Sarutobi Hiruzen simply not informed him—so he didn't believe Hikaru had any reason to send something directly?
"Documents for the Hokage are submitted by you personally." Murashima said without looking up. His voice was calm and cold—like ice pressed to the skin.
"I have received no order to forward anything on your behalf, so I will not do it. Do you understand?"
Hikaru's frown deepened slightly.
"Director-sama—what I mean is, this report is for the Third Hokage."
Murashima lifted his head then, eyes icy.
"Was my meaning unclear?"
He spoke slowly, each word sharp.
"Then I'll repeat it, so Captain Nightingale remembers it clearly.
"I have received no order.
"I will not transmit anything for you."
No order… so he won't move?
Hikaru looked at Murashima Takumi.
His gaze turned subtly strange.
For the first time, he felt there might be something… off about this man.
Was Murashima truly this rigid?
Or was there something else underneath—
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