Fifteenth day as Hokage. Clear weather.
Akashi Sora had discovered that the best way to use power… was to give it away.
Inside the Hokage Office, sunlight poured in beautifully.
Sora was completely sunk into a custom-made, ultra-soft, ergonomically perfect sofa. A thin cashmere blanket covered him as he slept soundly.
Behind the desk, Chief Secretary Yamanaka Kaede methodically processed documents.
Hokage Chief Advisor Nara Shikaku — dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days — was locked in a brutal verbal battle with the newly appointed Chairman of the Development and Reform Commission, Uchiha Itachi, over the very last copper coin in the sewer renovation budget.
Over at the Security Force, Uchiha Fugaku was leading his Hyūga and Aburame deputies on a village-wide crackdown, enthusiastically rounding up villagers who littered.
Everything was thriving.
[Perfect.]
[This is exactly how the boss of a violent organization should live. As Hokage, you just need to be strong enough. That's it.]
[Leaders who handle everything personally are idiots. Leave professional matters to professionals and enjoy the fruits of victory yourself — that's the essence of management.]
Sora rolled over, found an even more comfortable sleeping position, and let out a satisfied murmur in his sleep.
Suddenly.
Thanks to his acute sensitivity to space-time power, he caught a faint, extremely discordant distortion.
A familiar yet loathsome space-time fluctuation flickered and vanished in an unmanned corner on the village outskirts.
Even in his sleep, Sora's brows furrowed slightly.
[Tch. Again?]
[Is this guy a cockroach? Remembers the food but not the beating?]
A few years ago, when he was still an Anbu squad leader, he had already noticed this guy who kept sneaking into the village and staring blankly in front of the memorial stone.
Uchiha Obito.
That time, Sora hadn't even bothered calling for backup.
A single Flying Thunder God + Sage Art: Rasenshuriken combo had cleanly taken out half of the man's body — along with that Sharingan.
Obito had been forced to burn one of his own three-tomoe Sharingan to activate Izanagi and barely escape.
And it was exactly that encounter that added two brand-new discs to Sora's system panel.
[Recorded Successfully: Mangekyō Sharingan – Kamui]
[Recorded Successfully: S-rank Forbidden Technique – Izanagi]
[What, last time's lesson wasn't enough? This time you're here to donate your other eye to my collection too?]
Sora slowly sat up from the sofa and stretched. His joints popped with a satisfying series of cracks.
Itachi and Shikaku, who had been in the middle of their heated argument, immediately stopped and looked toward him.
"Lord Fifth, you're awake?" Itachi asked respectfully.
"Mhm." Sora yawned, casually grabbed the ceremonial robe draped over the sofa arm, and threw it over his shoulders.
"Got something to do. Gonna take a quick walk."
Before the words even finished leaving his mouth, his entire body melted away like ink dissolving into water — vanishing silently from the office.
Leaving Itachi and Shikaku staring at each other in confusion.
The next instant.
On the outskirts of Konoha Village, in an abandoned training ground.
Sora's figure appeared out of thin air.
Hands in his pockets, face wearing a lazy expression, his amber eyes scanned the surroundings.
No one.
But the residual waves of space-time ninjutsu still lingered in the air.
[Hiding now? Playing hide-and-seek with me?]
Sora curled his lip, about to activate Sage Mode to drag the guy out.
Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught two heads peeking out from behind a large tree not far away.
One big, one small.
The big one had familiar black short hair, wore a dark cloak, and had a cold, weathered face. Most strikingly… he had only one arm.
The small one had spiky blond hair, bright blue eyes, and two inexplicable whisker-like marks on his face. He was staring at Sora with pure curiosity.
Sora's expression froze.
The laziness and nonchalance on his face vanished in a millisecond, replaced by a cocktail of shock, absurdity, and sheer "what the actual hell" bewilderment.
[Fuck?]
[Uchiha Sasuke… middle-aged one-armed edition?]
[And that little blond next to him… whose illegitimate child is that with Naruto?]
(The author is an old geezer who hasn't read Boruto, so the protagonist only knows it exists but has never watched it.
Aaaaaah! I really don't want to watch Boruto — I'm losing my mind!)
The abandoned training ground was deathly silent.
A gust of wind blew through, kicking up a few dry leaves that spiraled down and landed at Akashi Sora's feet.
The lazy, casual look on his face disappeared instantly. His expression stiffened, carrying a hint of stunned disbelief.
From behind that large tree, two heads — one large, one small — were sneaking peeks.
The big one: black hair, cold face, one arm — the very picture of a battle-hardened, middle-aged Uchiha Sasuke.
The small one: blond hair, blue eyes, whiskers — practically a mini Naruto from childhood, only with an even more rebellious hairstyle and an even more… punchable aura.
Inside Sora's head, it felt like ten thousand frogs were playing rock music at full volume, making his temples throb.
[Genjutsu?]
The thought had barely formed before he dismissed it himself.
Under Sage Mode perception, the surrounding natural energy was calm as still water — not a single trace of chakra disturbance.
[Impostors?]
No.
One of them had chakra reserves so low he was practically running on fumes — like an office worker who'd pulled three all-nighters in a row. The other had fairly lively chakra, roughly chūnin level.
At that level, even Yamanaka Kaede back in the office doing paperwork could wipe the floor with them. They wouldn't dare try transformation jutsu in front of him.
Shock, absurdity, disbelief… all of it was quickly covered by a perfectly measured smile — gentle, curious, and completely harmless.
He slipped his hands back into his pockets and strolled slowly toward the tree.
"Yo, you two."
His voice broke the silence, as casual as greeting neighbors.
"You've got the chakra signature of an Uchiha."
Behind the tree, middle-aged Sasuke's body instantly tensed.
He pulled the kid behind him in one motion. His remaining hand quietly rested on the hilt of the sword at his waist.
His wary gaze locked onto the unfamiliar young man wearing the Fifth Hokage's ceremonial robe.
Something was wrong.
Everything was wrong.
Who was this person? Why was he wearing the Hokage robe?
This was definitely Konoha… but it wasn't the Konoha he knew.
"Who are you?" Sasuke's voice was hoarse and low. "Where is the Hokage?"
"Me?" Sora pointed at himself, his smile growing even brighter. "I'm the Hokage. Fifth generation — Akashi Sora."
He seemed to remember something and clapped his hands in sudden realization.
"Oh — you're asking about previous ones? The Third retired honorably not long ago. He's currently resting beneath the memorial stone, enjoying the respect of the entire village."
Sasuke's pupils contracted sharply.
Fifth generation? Not Tsunade?
The Third… is dead?!
The timeline was completely messed up!