Chapter 123: Heaven Knows What the Central Theme Is
Stelle needed to know exactly who Black Zetsu had dragged into Konoha to stir up trouble. To do that, she needed eyes on the ground. Slipping into her 'Tsukiki' persona, she casually picked up a part-time gig as a registrar at the village's main gates.
From Black Zetsu's perspective, Tsukiki was simply an associate of Uchiha Kou. If she only ever materialized at night to haunt Kou's residence, it would raise unwanted suspicions. Strolling around in broad daylight, however, cemented her alibi.
As the Fourth Hokage, she held the reins of the entire village. She didn't need to micromanage every petty D-rank mission or patrol route, leaving her with an abundance of free time to play gatekeeper. Right now, she sat behind a wooden desk, projecting an aura of solemn diligence. Masked flawlessly by the Transformation Technique, she stamped paperwork and logged merchant caravans with practiced ease. None of the surrounding gate staff had the slightest inkling that their supreme leader was currently doing their paperwork.
That flawless facade, however, hit a minor snag.
Hyuga Gen, one of the shinobi assigned to guard duty, flared his Byakugan to inspect a passing caravan's luggage. His pale, vein-bulging eyes swept past the merchants and accidentally locked onto the registrar. He blinked, the veins around his temples receding as he stared at her. The sheer density of the chakra roiling beneath her disguise had nearly blinded him.
Leaning over the desk, he lowered his voice. "You've got the reserves of a Jonin at the very least. What did you do to get stuck stamping papers at the front gate?"
Stelle arched an eyebrow. She found the situation equally baffling. Gen was a member of the Hyuga Main Branch. Guarding the gate was grunt work, usually pawned off on fresh-faced Genin from the branch families, not main-line aristocrats.
Then again, Gen was practically a professional scapegoat. The man's luck was notoriously abysmal. Back during the skirmishes in the Land of Wind, his Byakugan had inadvertently dragged him into a massive mess, nearly getting Sakumo Hatake killed in the crossfire. And just recently, when Black Zetsu and Kou had turned District One upside down, Gen had been the captain of the local Enforcement Team. Naturally, the blame landed squarely on his shoulders.
The fallout had been so severe it nearly dragged the Hokage Building's reputation through the mud. Danzo and Hiruzen had been half a breath away from flaying the poor guy alive.
Now, considering the fact that Black Zetsu's hand-picked saboteurs were actively trying to infiltrate the village, Stelle couldn't help but look at Gen with deep pity. The man was a walking lightning rod for disaster. If there was a landmine within a ten-mile radius, Gen would inevitably find a way to step on it.
She forced a sheepish, embarrassed smile. "My luck isn't the best. I botched a few assignments, so command transferred me to gate duty."
Gen's eyes lit up. He looked at her like he'd just found a long-lost sibling. "Ah! So you're here on punishment detail too! Same here." He scratched the back of his head, a goofy, unrefined gesture that completely shattered the typical stuck-up Hyuga image. "Honestly, it's the weirdest thing. Every time I set out to do something great, some ridiculous accident ruins it. The clan elders told me I lack discipline. They threw me on gate duty to 'temper my will.' To be honest, it's pretty depressing."
Stelle stared at him. Did the Hyuga Clan actually produce someone this naturally dense? No wonder he was constantly shoved to the front lines to absorb the blame. The rigid, traditionalist elders probably looked at him and assumed his DNA had mutated.
Still, considering nearly every major disaster he'd suffered recently was directly tied to her own scheming, Stelle felt a fleeting twinge of guilt. Fine. She'd throw the kid a bone before the village ground his spirit into dust.
"There's no shame in guarding the gates," she said, her voice dripping with practiced earnestness. "Every cog turns the machine. No matter your post, you are the shield protecting the village."
She began ladling out the motivational 'chicken soup' by the gallon. Delivering impassioned, heroic speeches to her elite Anbu squads was part of her daily routine as Hokage. Manipulating a gullible airhead like Gen was practically child's play.
The transformation was instantaneous. Gen, who had been slumping like a disgraced noble exiled to the outer rim, suddenly puffed out his chest. Stelle's heavy dose of motivational rhetoric hit him like a shot of adrenaline.
"You're absolutely right!" he declared, slamming a fist into his palm. "Everything we do is for the village! I was too obsessed with status. From this day forward, I will be the greatest gatekeeper Konoha has ever seen!"
He tilted his head back and let out a booming, hearty laugh. Stelle had no idea what he was so thrilled about, but his enthusiasm was infectious.
"Oh, by the way, forgive my manners," Gen said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "I didn't check the shift logs this morning. I'm Hyuga Gen. And you are?"
"Tsukiki."
If there was one thing natural airheads excelled at, it was breaking the ice. Within seconds of exchanging names, Gen was chatting with her as if they'd been trench buddies for a decade. The man was an absolute goldmine of village gossip.
He leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Did you hear about the Police Force squad leader? Guy fell head over heels for an Uzumaki woman. Got completely trashed on sake and marched right up to the Uzumaki compound to confess his undying love." Gen snickered. "Turns out, the Uzumaki have insane vitality and age like fine wine. The 'girl' he confessed to had a son his exact age. The squad leader literally burst into tears and passed out on their front steps."
Stelle stifled a laugh. Gen kept going.
"Oh, and you know that guy on the Enforcement Team? The one who acts all cold and edgy, slicing people up without blinking? Total fraud. A harmless garden snake slithered over his boot last week, and he shrieked and jumped into a kunoichi's arms."
In her daily life, Stelle's social circle consisted of hyper-competent elites like Uchiha Kagami or stoic Anbu commanders like Sakumo Hatake. Because she wore the Hokage's hat, everyone addressed her with suffocating formality and rigid respect. She never got to hear the juicy, ground-level dirt. She leaned in, resting her chin on her hands, utterly captivated.
Seeing his new friend so invested in the drama, Gen dropped his voice to a dramatic whisper, preparing to deliver the ultimate scoop.
"Get this. The night after tomorrow, that same Police squad leader is going back to the Uzumaki compound. He's going to try confessing to his 'sweetheart' again. You want to go watch the trainwreck?"
Oh, absolutely. A public, humiliating confession scene? The primal urge to grab popcorn and watch the drama unfold ignited in Stelle's eyes.
"Please," she said, grabbing his sleeve with wide, pleading eyes. "You have to take me with you."
Caught off guard by her intense, sparkling gaze, Gen's face flushed crimson. He coughed awkwardly and quickly averted his eyes, suddenly finding the wooden grain of the gate incredibly fascinating.
At the main gate, traffic ebbed and flowed. The passing civilians and merchants, seeing the two shinobi chatting so amiably, quietly filled out their standard entry logs and moved along without causing a fuss.
Then, a group of about a dozen unfamiliar faces approached the checkpoint.
Stelle immediately straightened up, her professional mask sliding back into place. "Next, please! Step up to the desk and register. Entry into the village is strictly prohibited until your identities are verified."
The leader of the caravan, a burly man with a weathered face, approached the desk. He took the stack of registration forms and distributed them to his crew. Despite this being their first visit to Konoha, they moved with a quiet, rehearsed efficiency, clearly having studied the village's entry protocols beforehand.
Stelle's eyes flicked over the freshly inked paperwork. According to the forms, they were a merchant troupe from the Land of Demons, seeking new trade routes and business opportunities within the Leaf.
Bullshit, Stelle thought.
They were dressed the part—dusty cloaks, worn boots, heavy packs—but the underlying vibe was entirely wrong. Her gaze drifted to a man standing near the back of the group. He possessed a detached, almost Zen-like aura, his eyes heavy with a world-weary indifference. He didn't carry himself like a man haggling over the price of silk; he carried himself like a killer.
Still, there were barely a dozen of them. If these really were the elite saboteurs Black Zetsu had scraped together, what kind of damage could such a small squad realistically inflict on Konoha?
She needed to test the waters.
The group handed back their completed personal information sheets. By standard protocol, Stelle should have stamped their passes and waved them through. Instead, she reached beneath the desk, pulled out a fresh stack of densely printed forms, and slid them across the wood.
"Mandatory secondary screening," she lied smoothly. "Please fill out page two."
"So much bureaucratic trouble," one of the merchants muttered, snatching a form.
They didn't think much of it at first, casually flipping the parchment over. But as their eyes scanned the text, their expressions froze.
Question 1: What do you know about our Konohagakure? Is what you know really what you know?
Question 2: Are you satisfied with your current line of work? If a beloved family member fell critically ill while you were en route to Konoha, would you abandon your journey to tend to them, or continue your mission?
Question 3: Read the following statement: 'Konoha is my home; everyone loves and protects it.' Analyze the psychological subtext and emotional resonance of this phrase.
Question 4: Synthesizing your responses to the previous three inquiries, please articulate your personal impressions of Konoha., theorize why the Fourth Hokage would mandate these specific questions. What is the central theme of this examination?
Takei, the burly caravan leader, stared at the paper. His jaw went slack. For a fleeting, terrifying second, he genuinely believed he had been trapped in a high-level Genjutsu. He rubbed his eyes vigorously, but the absurd philosophical essay questions remained printed clearly on the page.
Even Gen, who was peeking over Stelle's shoulder, looked utterly horrified. Was it really this difficult for outsiders to enter the village now? He swallowed hard. If someone handed him that test, he'd fail instantly.
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