The Hokage's office smelled like old paper, ink, and tired patience.
Raizo noticed it immediately.
It was not an unpleasant smell, just a heavy one—layers of years pressed into wood and stone, the way a place began to absorb the emotions of everyone who sat inside it. Responsibility lingered here. Worry. Decisions that could not be undone once spoken aloud.
The door closed behind them with a dull thud.
Raizo flinched despite himself.
The sound echoed too sharply in the tight space, bouncing off walls lined with scrolls and shelves stacked so high they looked ready to topple. A large desk dominated the room, carved with careful symbols and worn smooth where countless hands had rested.
Behind it sat the Third Hokage.
Hiruzen Sarutobi looked older than Raizo had expected.
Not weak—never weak—but worn in a way that reminded Raizo of cliffs slowly eroded by waves. His chakra was steady but thin around the edges, stretched across a village that demanded more from him than it ever returned.
Beside him stood two others.
One Raizo recognized instantly.
White hair. Sharp posture. Chakra like coiled wire barely restrained.
The man's eyes flicked toward Raizo the moment he entered, assessing him in a single, efficient glance. Curiosity hid behind discipline. Interest hid behind caution.
Jiraiya.
Raizo didn't know his name yet.
But he felt the ripple of attention roll off him like heat.
The other presence startled him more.
A woman leaned against the wall near the window, arms crossed, blonde hair tied back loosely. She looked bored—openly, unapologetically bored—but her chakra told a different story.
Dense. Coiled. Restless.
It moved like muscle remembering violence.
Raizo's breath caught.
It felt… familiar.
Not like Mito.
Like something younger. Wilder. Unfinished.
The woman's eyes snapped to him.
Gold met red.
For half a heartbeat, the world narrowed.
Something in Raizo's chest twisted sharply—not pain, not fear. Recognition without reason. Like hearing a note that fit perfectly into a song he hadn't known he was humming.
The woman straightened slowly.
"…Huh," she muttered.
Mito stepped forward before Raizo could think too hard about it.
"Hiruzen," she said calmly. "Thank you for receiving us on such short notice."
The Hokage rose immediately, bowing deep. "Mito-sama. Konoha is honored."
Raizo felt the weight of that word—honored—press against him. It wasn't pride. It was obligation.
Mito gestured gently. "This is Raizo Uzumaki."
Every eye returned to him.
Raizo fought the urge to retreat behind her.
Instead, he bowed the way his parents had taught him—careful, respectful, controlled.
"My name is Raizo," he said quietly.
Silence followed.
The Hokage studied him with sharp kindness. "Welcome to Konoha, Raizo. I know this journey was… difficult."
Raizo nodded once. "Yes, sir."
Hiruzen's gaze flicked briefly to Mito, then back. "You may sit."
Raizo sat on the cushion placed near the desk. It felt too soft. Too exposed.
The woman by the window hadn't looked away yet.
She was staring at him openly now.
Not with suspicion.
With curiosity edged by something almost… defensive.
"Is he really seven?" she asked bluntly.
Hiruzen sighed. "Tsunade—"
"He is," Mito said evenly. "And he hears more than he should. Sit down."
Tsunade scowled but pushed off the wall, dropping into a seat across from Raizo. She leaned forward slightly, elbows on knees.
Her chakra brushed his senses again.
Raizo swallowed.
It felt like standing near a river during flood season—dangerous, powerful, alive.
She tilted her head. "What do you hear right now?"
Raizo froze.
Mito did not stop her.
Jiraiya stiffened slightly, watching closely.
Raizo hesitated, then answered honestly.
"…Everyone."
Tsunade's brow furrowed. "Be specific."
He took a breath. In. Out.
"The Hokage is tired," he said softly. "But trying not to show it."
Hiruzen's eyes widened a fraction.
Raizo continued, voice trembling just a little. "The man with white hair is excited and nervous at the same time."
Jiraiya barked a short laugh. "That obvious, huh?"
Raizo's gaze shifted back to Tsunade.
"You're angry," he said. Then paused. "…Not at me."
Her jaw tightened.
"And," he added quietly, "you feel like something was taken from you. A long time ago."
The room went very still.
Tsunade's chakra spiked violently before she reined it in. Her hands curled into fists.
Hiruzen cleared his throat sharply. "That is enough."
Raizo ducked his head immediately. "I'm sorry."
Mito placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding. "You did nothing wrong."
Tsunade stared at him for a long moment, then leaned back, exhaling slowly.
"…You don't lie," she said.
"No," Raizo whispered. "I just listen."
They talked for a long time after that.
Raizo understood only parts of it.
Words like protection, placement, political risk, and containment floated around him like stones dropped into deep water. He felt the emotions beneath them more clearly than the meaning.
Fear.
Concern.
Calculation.
Mito stood firm through all of it.
"He will remain under my authority," she said calmly. "He will not be trained as a weapon. He will not be paraded. He will not be used."
"And if the village needs—" an advisor began.
Mito's gaze cut like steel. "Then the village will remember who bound the fox."
No one spoke after that.
Hiruzen exhaled slowly. "Very well. Raizo will be placed under your care. Education will be… gradual."
Tsunade snorted. "Good luck with that."
Mito's mouth curved faintly. "You will assist."
Tsunade blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You are the only one here whose chakra does not overwhelm him," Mito said. "And he recognized you."
Raizo looked up, startled.
Tsunade stared at Mito. "…You're serious."
"Completely."
Tsunade's gaze slid back to Raizo.
Something complicated flickered there.
"…Fine," she said gruffly. "But I'm not babysitting."
Raizo nodded quickly. "I don't need babysitting."
Tsunade huffed. "Good. Because I'm terrible at it."
They left the office near sunset.
The village looked different now—warmer, louder, less distant. Raizo still felt the press of too many heartbeats, but it no longer crushed him. He clung to the quiet space inside himself the way Mito had taught him.
Tsunade walked beside them in silence.
Finally, she spoke. "You miss home."
Raizo nodded.
"Uzushio was quieter," she said.
"Yes."
She was quiet for a moment. "You'll get used to it. Or you won't. Either way, it doesn't stop."
That wasn't comforting.
But it was honest.
They stopped outside a modest compound surrounded by old trees.
"You'll stay here," Mito said. "It's shielded. The barriers are gentle."
Raizo stepped inside and felt it immediately—the air softer, the noise muted. He sagged with relief.
Tsunade watched closely.
"…Huh," she muttered again.
Inside, Mito knelt in front of Raizo.
"This village will test you," she said quietly. "Not with cruelty. With expectation."
Raizo swallowed. "What if I fail?"
"You will," she replied. "Often."
That surprised him.
"And you will survive it," she continued. "That is more important."
She rose.
"I will leave you here tonight. Tsunade will return tomorrow."
Raizo's chest tightened. "You're leaving?"
"Only for a little while," she said gently. "You must learn to stand without my shadow."
He nodded, though fear crept in at the edges.
Tsunade hesitated at the door.
"…You're weird," she said finally.
Raizo blinked. "Yes."
"…But not bad," she added.
Then she left.
Night settled over Konoha.
Raizo lay awake on unfamiliar bedding, listening to a village that never truly slept.
So many lives.
So many stories.
He pressed a hand over his heart and breathed.
In with the wave.
Out with the tide.
The storm did not quiet.
But it stayed inside him.
And for now—
That was enough.
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