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After listening to the Anbu's exhaustive report regarding Naruto's "Declaration of Youth" at Might Guy's home, the Hokage's office fell into a profound, heavy silence.
Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, sat motionless. His pipe had extinguished and been relit multiple times; he had replaced the tobacco three or four times without even realizing it. Swirling plumes of white smoke veiled his wrinkled features, obscuring his expression. Only the flickering, complex light in his deep-set eyes betrayed the tectonic shift occurring within his mind.
After a long while, a sigh heavy with relief and disbelief escaped his lips.
If the Konoha administration were recruiting for its propaganda or ideological departments, that boy would likely be the top candidate without a second thought. This was no exaggeration. When others scored a ninety-five on the Academy's civil examinations, it was because they possessed ninety-five points of ability. But Naruto? Naruto achieved a perfect score because that was the mechanical limit of the test.
That speech—which seamlessly wove together personal struggle, the protection of comrades, and the collective future of the village—was a vibrant, living embodiment of the Will of Fire. It was a spiritual core purer and more fervent than what many veteran Jonin could claim to understand.
What surprised Hiruzen most was that this transformation seemed inextricably linked to Might Guy.
Could sending Guy to mentor the boy truly have produced such a miraculous result? When Hiruzen had initially sanctioned the training, it was a pragmatic choice; Naruto needed a physical foundation, and Guy was one of the few shinobi whose character was too pure to be tainted by the "Demon Fox" rumors. He had never expected that Guy's "Youth Theory"—usually viewed as reckless and eccentric—would act as a surgical instrument, guiding Naruto's psychology toward such a brilliant, positive path.
Might Guy... you have a hidden, astonishing talent for nurturing the human soul, the Sandaime marveled. He compared Guy to the various instructors at the Academy—men of theory and tradition—and realized that Guy had achieved what they could not.
Excellent! Truly excellent! Hiruzen thought. In the future, when Guy is too battered for the front lines, I shall be the first to nominate him as a Senior Instructor at the Academy. Imagine a generation of sprouts ignited by that passion!
The relief was overwhelming. Naruto, raised in the shadows of scorn and isolation, should by all rights have been a reservoir of resentment. Yet, under Guy's influence, he had become a beacon of optimism. This was the most ideal outcome for Jinchuriki management: a "living weapon" that truly loved the village it was meant to defend.
However, as the initial glow of satisfaction faded, the cold reality of his own mortality resurfaced. Hiruzen tapped his pipe against the desk, his brow furrowing. Might Guy was still young; by the time he reached the age to retire to the Academy, Hiruzen's own bones would likely be buried in the cemetery next to the Memorial Stone.
Konoha's future cannot wait. I must find a successor.
His mind immediately drifted to his two most outstanding—and most troublesome—disciples. He needed to bring Jiraiya or Tsunade back to the village. One was a master of grand strategy; the other possessed unmatched Medical Ninjutsu and unparalleled prestige. They were the only ones who could stabilize the village after his passing.
He surveyed the younger generation in his mind's eye. Shikaku Nara was brilliant but lacked the raw power to deter foreign nations. Kakashi Hatake of the Anbu was a leader among his peers, but he still carried the heavy shadows of Sakumo, Obito, and Rin. He needed more time to be tempered. His own son, Asuma, was an elite warrior, but he lacked the "vision of the whole" and had spent too much time away as one of the Twelve Guardian Ninja.
The burden felt heavier than ever. He did not have many years left.
Hiruzen took one last puff of smoke, expelling the gloom from his lungs. Then, with a gesture of absolute authority, he tapped his pipe twice on the hardwood desk. The sound was as sharp as a gavel.
"Effective immediately," he commanded the shadows, "all direct Anbu are to cease daily surveillance of Uzumaki Naruto. Transition to protective observation only. Allow the boy his privacy."
He paused, his gaze sharpening into a blade directed toward a certain old friend hidden in the darkness of the village. "This applies to Root as well. If any of Danzo's agents are caught monitoring Naruto without my explicit permission..."
His tone turned lethal. "...bring them directly to me. Let Danzo Shimura come here personally to explain why his subordinates are defying the Hokage."
"Understood."
A silver-haired Anbu wearing a Dog Mask materialized for a fraction of a second before vanishing in a swirl of leaves.
Inside the Sealing Space, the Great Beast felt the shift instantly. The oppressive, constant "pressure" of specialized observation jutsu that had lingered over the apartment for years simply... evaporated.
Naruto, Kurama's voice rumbled, echoing through the damp chamber. The old man finally pulled back his dogs. The watchers are gone.
Naruto, who was currently sitting in his room, didn't make a single outward movement. He merely acknowledged the information with a cold, satisfied mental flicker.
Good. The stage is set, Naruto thought. Now, without those eyes on me, I can finally begin the real work.
For the first time since his transmigration, Naruto Uzumaki was truly alone. And in the silence of that room, the "Little Sun" mask didn't slip—it was simply put away, revealing the calculating genius who was ready to dismantle the laws of shinobi physics.
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