---

  Danzo Shimura jolted awake in the darkness, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

  The dream clung to him like a second skin—that infuriating conversation playing on repeat. You'll regret this, Hiruzen. I'm angry. Bang. His fists clenched so hard his nails bit into his palms.

  Naruto. The word tasted like ash in his mouth. I swear it. I will become Hokage.

  He rose from his bed and moved through the Root's shadowed corridors, his footsteps echoing off stone. The base was silent at this hour—just the way he preferred it. Control. Order. No distractions.

  He paused at a doorway, peering inside at the sleeping figure on the cot.

  Yamato. Code name: A.

  The boy was the only survivor of the Wood Style experiments—a fact Orochimaru would never know. The snake had assumed his test subjects were all dead. Danzo had simply... salvaged what remained.

  A thin smile crossed his scarred face. Fortune favors the prepared.

  He'd studied under Tobirama himself. He'd seen Hashirama's Wood Style in action—that impossible, invincible power. If Yamato could be cultivated, trained, perfected... when Sarutobi Hiruzen finally fell, Konoha would need a savior. Konoha would need him.

  The plan was flawless.

  But Danzo's ambitions extended far beyond merely having a powerful weapon. He wanted the power itself. Hashirama's cells. Wood Style flowing through his own veins. He'd attempted transplantation before, but the cells were too volatile, too aggressive. Yamato's existence proved it was possible. With the right approach, the right modifications...

  He closed the door softly and continued to his office.

  Sleep was gone anyway. Might as well review the research progress.

  The lights flickered on.

  His hand found the document on his desk, and he began to read. His expression darkened with each line.

  It was from Sarutobi Hiruzen.

  Two demands. First: compensation for damages to the Hokage's office. Second: Hanekawa was now Tsunade's student. Danzo should abandon any thoughts of recruitment.

  The paper crumpled in his grip.

  "Hiruzen!" His voice echoed through the empty base, raw with fury. "You will regret this!"

  ---

  The news spread through Konoha like wildfire.

  Tsunade had accepted a disciple.

  Sarutobi Hiruzen had made certain of it—the information filtered through jonin channels with deliberate efficiency, reaching every major clan and senior ninja by morning. The village's ordinary citizens would learn of it eventually, but the ninja world knew first.

  ---

  Hatake Sakumo found his son standing motionless at the window, radiating something that looked dangerously like brooding.

  In all his years, Hatake Kakashi had never been one to sulk. The boy was too controlled, too focused. But there was no mistaking the tension in his shoulders now.

  "Unhappy?" Sakumo asked, opening the door.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  "No." Kakashi's response was immediate and unconvincing.

  Sakumo sighed. He'd spoken with Hiruzen yesterday, and the Hokage had been surprisingly forthcoming. "I talked to Lord Hokage. Do you know where you lost?"

  Kakashi turned, his expression unreadable. "Where?"

  "Proficiency," Sakumo explained. "Your technique was equal. But he had more experience with the blade. That's all. If you match his skill level, you'll beat him."

  Kakashi was already moving toward the door.

  "At least eat first!" Sakumo called after him.

  His son didn't slow down.

  ---

  Asuma Sarutobi hadn't slept well since his loss to Hanekawa. He'd been up before dawn, training with grim determination, trying to burn away the sting of defeat.

  But that morning, his father's news hit him like a physical blow.

  "What?" Asuma's voice cracked. "Why didn't you stop it?"

  Tsunade wasn't just any medical ninja. She was a legend—one of the Sannin. If Hanekawa learned her techniques, her strength, her healing abilities... Asuma's stomach twisted at the thought. How was anyone supposed to compete with that?

  "Afraid?" Hiruzen asked mildly, sipping his tea.

  "Afraid?!" Asuma's pride flared. "The past is past. The present is present. I'm not going to keep losing!"

  "Good." Hiruzen set down his cup, a smile playing at his lips. "Then I'll give you special training. After all, Tsunade is my student. Which makes you one step ahead of Hanekawa in terms of seniority."

  Asuma's eyes widened as the implication sank in.

  His father was going to train him personally.

  For the first time in weeks, Asuma felt something like hope.

  ---

  Hanekawa raised his hand and knocked on Tsunade's door.

  He didn't have a key. The last time he'd entered freely, she'd been too drunk to lock up properly—a situation he'd learned not to rely on.

  The door opened after a moment.

  Tsunade stood in the doorway wearing a white nightgown, her golden hair loose around her shoulders. The fabric was loose enough to be modest, but not quite loose enough to hide everything. Hanekawa kept his eyes firmly on her face.

  Okay. Not going there. She's my teacher. Also, she could kill me with a thought. Priorities.

  "Early," she mumbled, yawning.

  "It's almost nine," Hanekawa said. He'd spent the last two hours training with Kurenai, partly because it was good practice and partly because the girl had given him those big pleading eyes that morning. "Are you going to see Lady Tsunade again?" He'd caved immediately.

  "I'm changing." Tsunade turned back inside. "I want ramen."

  She disappeared into her bedroom.

  Hanekawa headed straight for the kitchen.

  A few minutes later, he emerged with a steaming bowl. Tsunade had changed into her usual outfit—sleeveless top, dark blue pants, her hair now tied into two neat ponytails. She picked up the chopsticks and took a bite.

  Her eyes lit up.

  "Good," she said simply, already reaching for another mouthful.

  Hanekawa watched her eat with obvious satisfaction and felt a familiar sense of accomplishment. The E-Rank Chef entry was doing its job. He'd been half-joking earlier about whether higher-rank entries might make her clothes burst from deliciousness, but honestly? The way she was demolishing that bowl suggested he might not be far off.

  I, Hanekawa, am the god of cooking, he thought with mock solemnity.

  Tsunade finished the broth in one long sip, set down the bowl with a satisfied sigh, and looked at him with something that might have been approval.

  "Good work," she said.

  Hanekawa cleared the dishes and returned to find her sitting upright, her expression unusually serious.

  "Show me your chakra control," she said.

  He glanced around, spotted a glass of water on the table, and extended his hand. Chakra flowed out in a controlled spiral, and the water began to rotate in a perfect vortex—a simplified version of the Rasengan training method. It was the kind of exercise that revealed everything about a ninja's fundamentals.

  Tsunade watched without comment, then nodded. "Very good. You've put in real work."

  That's because I have a literal progress bar, Hanekawa thought. Hard to slack off when you can see exactly how much you're improving.

  "Today I'll teach you basic medical ninjutsu," Tsunade said, picking up a fruit knife from the table. "Hemostasis—stopping bleeding. It's foundational. Everything else builds from here."

  She held up the blade, and Hanekawa understood immediately.

  This was going to hurt.

  But as he watched her prepare to demonstrate, he felt something settle in his chest. Not fear. Something closer to anticipation.

  He was being trained by one of the Legendary Sannin. Whatever came next, he was ready for it.

  Bring it on, he thought. I've got this.