Tatsuma could guess why the rewards were so meager. First, he had shared the "victory" with Minato Namikaze. Second, the power gap between him and Hatake Sakumo was simply too vast; "defeating" him was purely a result of trickery and Sakumo's own indulgence.
Combined with the fact that Sakumo had proactively declared Tatsuma the winner before the match truly concluded, the "duel" was technically incomplete. All these factors combined meant that Tatsuma only received a pittance of a reward for "beating" the White Fang.
Still, understanding the logic didn't make it any less frustrating. The encounter with Sakumo had been infinitely more harrowing than fleecing his "premium quality sheep," Minato.
If he hadn't possessed meta-knowledge about the One Thousand Years of Death, his dignity would have been forfeit. Not to mention, he had taken a very real kick from Sakumo earlier; his ribs were still throbbing with a dull, heavy ache.
Tatsuma's internal turmoil leaked onto his face. Seeing the boy's expression shift between disbelief and lingering trauma, Hiruzen Sarutobi shot Sakumo a look of mild reproach.
Hiruzen had no idea how complex Tatsuma's internal monologue was; he simply assumed the boy had been genuinely terrified by Sakumo's "Secret Art." After all, even the Hokage himself had felt a phantom twinge of pain just watching the demonstration—he could only imagine the psychological toll on the child facing it.
Feeling a rare prickle of guilt, Hiruzen looked at the two boys. "Tatsuma, Minato, you both performed excellently. I have no doubt you will grow into powerful shinobi who protect this village."
Under normal circumstances, Minato would have been over the moon at such high praise from the Hokage. However, the "near-death" shock to his backside hadn't quite worn off yet, so he merely gave a somewhat dazed nod.
Seeing Minato equally shaken, Hiruzen's guilt deepened. "Let's call an end to your training for today. You're still young; overtraining is counterproductive. How about this? I'll treat you both to BBQ. After dinner, Sakumo will take you to get that new gear."
"Lord Hokage, we couldn't..."
Tatsuma started to decline. He didn't want to draw too much attention. At their current age and skill level, being seen as the Hokage's personal favorites was a recipe for unnecessary trouble.
But before he could finish, Hiruzen cut him off. "Consider it a trade. In exchange for the meal, you both promise not to mention my subordinate's... distasteful technique to anyone. Deal?"
Tatsuma realized that further refusal would be rude. He nodded and offered a bright smile. "Then we'll accept your generosity, Lord Hokage."
To Tatsuma, the title "Lord" didn't feel belittling; it was no different from calling a boss "Director" or "Manager" in his previous life.
That night, for the first time since arriving in this world, Tatsuma ate until he was stuffed. He returned to his small apartment carrying several heavy bags of brand-new equipment.
Ninja gear was prohibitively expensive for a child, but for a Jonin like Sakumo, it was a routine expense. Sakumo hadn't just bought them a few kunai; he had bought them full sets of professional equipment.
Fuma Shuriken, giant shuriken, makibishi, ninja blades, tantōs, chainmail, specialized boots, gloves—the list went on. If Tatsuma and Minato hadn't stopped him, Sakumo likely would have bought every eccentric gadget in the shop.
Tatsuma was particularly intrigued by the chainmail. In the manga, he'd always thought characters were wearing some kind of fishnet fashion statement, but holding the cool, sturdy links in his hands, he realized its practical defensive value.
Back at the Hokage Building, Hiruzen looked at Sakumo. "What do you think of those two?"
Sakumo, who was about to go change back into his Anbu gear, paused to reflect. "They have Jiraiya's brightness, but they don't lack Orochimaru's restraint. More importantly, their chemistry and mutual trust are top-tier. They're good kids."
Hiruzen didn't mind the direct comparison to his own disciples. In terms of seniority and record, Sakumo was effectively a peer to the Sannin.
"The teacher for Class 1 is Goppu, right?" Hiruzen asked. "Tell him to keep a close eye on those two."
"Yes, Lord Third."
Hiruzen sighed, looking out the window at the village lights. "The Great War only ended a few years ago, yet friction is already sparking up everywhere. I truly wish we had more time... for you, and for those children to grow."
As the Hokage's guard, Sakumo was well aware of the rising international tensions. His playful smile vanished, replaced by the grim, shadow-like intensity of an elite operative. "I can go extinguish a few of those fuses," he offered.
"It would only delay the explosion. Besides, there are some things you shouldn't have to do personally. Danzo's 'Root' has been established for a while now; it's time to see what he's capable of."
The moment the words left Hiruzen's mouth, a low, gravelly voice echoed from within the office. "Hiruzen! Are you questioning my competence?!"
"Danzo? You've been waiting this long?"
Seeing his old rival, Hiruzen felt a headache coming on. Danzo stepped out of the shadows, his expression icy. "Hmph! If I didn't come, would you just continue to suppress my Shimura clan? Using two orphans as an excuse to bump one of our own... truly, Hiruzen, you have outdone yourself."
"Enough, Danzo! I am the Hokage. Go back to your Root. How I run the Academy is not for you to dictate."
Hiruzen wasn't in the mood for Danzo's circular arguments and shut the conversation down instantly. Danzo's face twitched with suppressed rage. He pointed a finger at Hiruzen, trembling for a long moment before spitting out, "Hiruzen... you will regret this!"
With a sharp sweep of his sleeve, Danzo stormed out. Hiruzen sank into his chair, rubbing his temples. Sakumo, feeling the awkwardness of the political fallout, moved to leave.
"Sakumo, go get some rest," Hiruzen said softly. "I want to be alone for a bit."
"Yes, Lord Third."
The next morning at 7:00 AM, Tatsuma and Minato arrived at the Ninja Academy after their morning workout.
Today was even more crowded than the day before. Beyond the throngs of new students, there were high-ranking Jonin and core members of various clans—sights rarely seen in the civilian sectors.
Seeing the other freshmen being led by the hands of their doting parents, Minato felt a sudden, sharp pang of loneliness.
Tatsuma noticed. He placed a steadying hand on Minato's shoulder. "Envious?"
Minato thought about it and decided to be honest with his friend. "Yeah."
Looking at Minato's face, the "dad joke" Tatsuma had been planning died in his throat. He patted Minato's shoulder firmly. "We can't change the past, Minato. But we can make sure the future has fewer orphans like us."
Minato looked up, his gaze turning incredibly serious. "Yeah. I'll make sure of it."
Not far away, a group of three sturdy-looking shinobi and their three young sons were watching the exchange. One man, sporting a distinctive "pineapple" hairstyle, observed them closely.
"Those are the two boys the Hokage went to see personally yesterday, aren't they?" the man noted. "Quite a grand dream they have. Shikaku, Choza, Inoichi—you should try to make friends with them."
He looked down at his son. "But remember your manners. And your attitude. You are all Academy students and future shinobi of the Leaf. Never think you are superior just because of your clan name. Understood?"
The pineapple-headed boy, Shikaku, sighed deeply. "Dad, you're so naggy. And... making friends sounds like a huge drag."
The Nara elder ruffled his son's hair. "Put in a little effort now, and you'll save yourself ten times the work later. Don't trade your future for a moment of laziness."
"Fine, fine. I get it."