Just as Sarutobi Hiruzen felt his neck twist under Namikaze Mirai's grip, humiliation flooded his heart like molten lead. The world around him blurred; he could hear the gasps of countless Konoha ninja, could see their horrified faces reflected in the flicker of chakra light.
So this was how it would end — strangled in public by a Hokage two generations younger than himself.
'To die like this…' he thought bitterly, '...even the gods would mock me.'
But before the pressure on his throat could crush his windpipe, a voice, clear and sharp yet tinged with exasperation, rang from nearby.
"Old man, have you caused enough trouble?"
Hiruzen froze. The voice jolted through his fogging mind like a spark in dry tinder. It was… familiar. Too familiar.
He tried to turn his head, but Mirai's grip was iron, unyielding. He could only strain his eyes to the edge of his vision. Through his blurred sight, he caught a glimpse of golden hair and a white coat swaying slightly in the wind.
"Tsu… Tsunade…"
The name rasped from his throat in a broken whisper. His windpipe felt like it was being crushed by stone.
Tsunade's footsteps echoed as she approached, arms folded across her chest. The expression she wore was difficult to describe — equal parts irritation, helplessness, and deep, weary resignation.
She stopped a few feet from Mirai, her eyes flicking from the old man gasping in his grip to the young Hokage whose hand glowed faintly with blue lightning.
"Mirai," she said softly but firmly, "I'm asking you — spare the old man's life."
Mirai turned his head slightly, gaze calm, unreadable. "He challenged me." he said, voice low and even.
"I know," Tsunade replied. "But if you kill him, I can't stand here and watch."
Her tone carried no anger, only quiet sincerity. "He's stubborn, he's wrong — I admit that. But he's still Jiraiya's teacher. He's mine too. If you kill him now, in front of me, I'll carry that regret for the rest of my life."
Mirai regarded her for a long moment. The air between them seemed to still.
Then, with a faint exhale, he loosened his fingers.
Hiruzen collapsed to the ground like a broken puppet.
Thud!
His body struck the dirt heavily, his frail chest heaving as he sucked in desperate lungfuls of air. His eyes bulged with the shock of survival.
So close. So terrifyingly close.
"Since Tsunade's asking." Mirai said, dusting his gloved fingers, "I'll spare your life."
His tone was flat, indifferent — as though the man gasping at his feet wasn't the Third Hokage, but simply another relic past its time.
Hiruzen lay still, trembling. He could feel the dust on his cheek, smell the dampness of the earth, hear the collective whispers of the ninja behind Mirai. Every sound stabbed like a needle through his pride.
He had once ruled this village. Now he lay like a dog beneath its new master.
Mirai's gaze swept coldly across him. Killing him outright would have been easy — almost trivial. But it would have been wasteful.
If he killed Hiruzen, Tsunade would become his enemy. Jiraiya too. Minato's teacher deserved at least that courtesy. Besides, humiliation could sometimes wound more deeply than death.
"Old men," Mirai said quietly, "should stay home and drink tea. The outside world is no longer yours to command."
He turned his back, cloak rippling faintly. "Always putting on airs of superiority… if you drop dead one of these days, don't say I didn't warn you."
Hiruzen, still on the ground, nodded weakly. "Understood," he managed to croak. "Understood…"
The fire in his eyes had dimmed. What little remained of his pride evaporated under the weight of the moment.
"I'm old… after all, I'm old." he murmured bitterly.
Tsunade sighed, stepping forward to lift him gently by the arm. "If you know you're old," she said, exasperated, "then stop making trouble."
She half-dragged, half-supported him as they walked away. His gait was slow, uneven — one step, a pause, another step. Every movement seemed to pull a decade from his body. The clash of ideals had burned through what remained of his life's flame.
He was no longer the Hokage of legend. Just an old man, defeated by time itself.
Mirai watched them leave, expression unreadable. He didn't need to kill Hiruzen. The man's spirit was already dead. The old generation had been broken in full view of the village.
Among the crowd, Utatane Koharu and Mitokado Homura stood stiffly, faces pale.
Their plan had been simple — use Hiruzen's righteous fury to ignite resistance within the older ninja, rally the clans nostalgic for the past, maybe even force Mirai into political retreat.
But that dream had evaporated in the dirt.
"What was that idiot thinking?!" Koharu hissed, fists trembling. "We handed him the chance, and he still—he still lost like that!"
Homura's lips pressed thin, his eyes darting toward Mirai's imposing figure in the distance. "Enough, Koharu. Be quiet. We have to think about what comes next."
"What comes next?" she whispered bitterly. "You saw it. It's over. The age we knew is over."
Homura didn't reply. He couldn't.
The air over Konoha felt different that day — heavier, sharper, as though something fundamental had shifted. The sky above the village was bright, but the light felt cold.
…
Across the plains of the Land of Fire, the tremor spread.
In the Daimyō's Palace, chaos reigned.
"What kind of joke is this?!" A noble's shrill voice cracked the still air. "Konoha wants to overthrow the One Country, One Village system? Have they gone insane?!"
Dozens of nobles, wrapped in silks and arrogance, paced the marbled floors like cornered animals. Their jeweled fans trembled in their hands.
"The system was founded by the First Hokage himself!" another cried. "It's been the foundation of peace for decades! And now this—this Fifth Hokage dares to destroy it?!"
"It's true, Lord!" a trembling aide stammered. "The news is spreading fast! Television broadcasts in every province are showing Konoha ninja criticizing the nobility system. It's— it's everywhere!"
The nobles froze, faces blanching. One of them fumbled for the remote, turning on the large flat-screen television mounted on the far wall.
The broadcast flickered to life — a Konoha announcer speaking clearly and calmly.
"…for centuries, nobles have lived in abundance while the common people suffer exploitation. The division between civilian authority and ninja military weakens every nation's strength. True unity requires the merging of both powers—"
The noble watching turned pale. "They're calling for… unification?!"
The announcer continued: "A divided state is inefficient. To survive the coming age, the Land of Fire must integrate government and defense into one body—"
One of the nobles dropped his fan. It hit the polished floor with a clatter.
"It's over," another whispered. "It's all over…"
…
On the top floor of the palace, Kakashi stood by a window, a scroll in hand. His lone visible eye gleamed faintly beneath his mask.
"It's even faster than expected." he murmured.
The message from Konoha was clear: proceed.
Overthrow the One Country, One Village system. Unite military and political power. Build a new world.
A strange excitement stirred in his chest. To witness a revolution like this — to shape it — was something few shinobi could ever dream of.
"The flame is already lit." he whispered. "Since I'm in the Daimyō's Palace, I'll make it burn even brighter."
He turned his head slightly. Behind him, the Daimyō of the Land of Fire sat motionless on a grand chair, eyes vacant — the blank stare of a man lost in genjutsu.
Kakashi's gaze softened, a strange flicker of pity crossing it. "Your reign ends today." he said quietly.
Outside, the palace gates shook.
Bang!
Bang!
"Daimyō-sama! Come out!"
"Konoha's gone mad! You must stop them!"
"Daimyō-sama! The Land of Fire needs you!"
The nobles' voices echoed like thunder through the courtyard. The redwood gates shuddered violently under their blows. Guards tried in vain to hold them, but the pressure was too great.
Craaaaack…!
The hinges snapped. The heavy gates groaned and collapsed backward with a thunderous boom, stirring a cloud of dust.
The nobles surged inside, shouting, shoving one another in their panic.
"Where is the Daimyō?!"
"Show yourself!"
"You can't hide now!"
Their furious voices filled the grand hall — until someone screamed.
The crowd froze.
Every eye turned toward the central beam above the throne dais.
There, swaying slightly in the filtered light, hung the body of the Daimyō — dressed in embroidered silk, his face pale and bloated, his neck looped with a strand of white cloth.
The air turned deathly still.
One noble dropped to his knees, trembling. Another covered his mouth, retching.
"T-The Daimyō… the Daimyō is dead?!"
*****
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✓ Killed For 100 Years in Hueco Mundo, Aizen Invited Me To Soul Society!
✓ Naruto: Senmei Asahi
✓ Naruto: Uchiha's Intelligence Dealer
✓ Naruto: The Fifth Hokage Is Naruto's Uncle
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