RecklessDawn

  The door to the Hokage’s office opened with a soft creak, and Ryoji stepped inside, his sharp eyes taking in the room. Sunlight filtered through the window, casting a warm glow over the old Hokage’s desk, where Hiruzen sat with an infant in his arms—none other than Asuma Sarutobi, now a curious 2-year-old.

  "Asuma’s growing fast," Ryoji remarked casually, nodding at the baby.

  Hiruzen, who was usually all business, smiled fondly at his grandson. "Yes, he is. Would you like to hold him?"

  Ryoji blinked in surprise at the offer. He had not expected such a request but, after a brief moment of thought, shrugged. "Sure, ji-chan."

  With surprising ease, Hiruzen transferred Asuma into Ryoji’s arms. Ryoji adjusted his hold on the small child, and the baby immediately rexed, curling up in his arms as though he had known Ryoji for years. A rare, tender expression flickered across Ryoji’s usually stoic face, his eyes softening as he gently rocked Asuma, humming a faint melody.

  For a moment, the scene was surreal. Here was Ryoji Senju, the young head of the cn, a boy known for his raw power and sharp intellect, holding the infant with such tenderness that it seemed out of pce.

  Hiruzen’s gaze lingered on the scene, a frown slowly forming on his face. Something about it felt... wrong. Ryoji, a child prodigy known for his ruthlessness, was acting like a completely different person. It didn’t make sense.

  "Ryoji..." Hiruzen began, his voice thoughtful. "Are you... sure you’re not under some kind of genjutsu?"

  Ryoji blinked at the question, his expression unchanging. "What? Genjutsu? Ji-chan, this is real."

  Hiruzen leaned forward, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied the young Senju closely. "But... you’re holding my grandson like... like it’s second nature to you. This isn’t like you. Are you sure you're not under a jutsu?"

  Ryoji, still cradling Asuma with surprising ease, tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "I’m not under any genjutsu, ji-chan," he said, his tone amused but calm. "It’s just a baby. Not that big of a deal."

  Hiruzen watched him intently, but his suspicion grew stronger. The image before him was so out of pce that he couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong.

  The boy was too composed, too calm in this situation. Hiruzen had trained Tsunade, Ryoji’s mother, and had watched her grow into the formidable woman she was. But this boy... was different. He was too collected for his age, too poised.

  Suddenly, a thought hit Hiruzen, and he instinctively reached for his kunai pouch, his fingers twitching with readiness. Could it be that he himself was under some kind of genjutsu? Was he dreaming? No, it didn’t make sense. But this... this was absurd.

  Ryoji, still cradling Asuma, seemed to sense the change in the air. He looked at Hiruzen with a slight frown, then, without warning, muttered, "Release."

  Hiruzen’s eyes widened as Ryoji’s chakra fred briefly, and he watched with growing tension as the boy searched the area. For a brief moment, Hiruzen’s own sense of reality flickered, his mind wondering if he was under the influence of an illusion.

  Is this a genjutsu? Hiruzen thought, his pulse quickening. Did someone... pce a jutsu on me?

  Ryoji’s voice cut through the tension. "It’s real, ji-chan," he said with a slight smirk. "There’s no genjutsu. This is just me holding a baby. I’m not trying to fool you."

  Hiruzen blinked, the weight of the moment crashing down on him. He looked at Ryoji, holding Asuma as though he had done so a thousand times. For a brief second, he couldn’t help but feel something strange stir in his chest. The young Senju was powerful beyond measure, but in that moment, holding the infant with a natural ease... it felt like something more.

  Hiruzen let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. "I must be getting too old for this." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "But seriously, Ryoji, you’re full of surprises."

  Ryoji gave a small chuckle of his own, his tone light. "I’m not that surprising, ji-chan. Just... keeping things real."

  As Ryoji held Asuma, the quiet room was broken only by the soft murmur of the baby’s gurgling sounds. But before Hiruzen could speak again, the door to the Hokage’s office creaked open, and a familiar face entered. A woman with a commanding presence—Biwako Sarutobi—stepped into the room, her eyes softening as she looked at the infant in Hiruzen’s arms.

  "Asuma’s ready for his nap," she said warmly, her voice full of affection.

  Ryoji, still holding the boy effortlessly, looked up at her, his eyes cool. "He’s been good company, but I guess it’s time to hand him over, huh?"

  With a small, approving smile, Biwako moved over to gently take Asuma from Ryoji’s arms. The baby shifted briefly, letting out a small whimper before settling against his mother. Biwako looked at Ryoji, a touch of respect in her eyes. "Thank you, Ryoji. You seem very natural with him."

  "Yeah," Ryoji replied with a hint of irony in his voice. "He's like little brother Oba-san."

  As Biwako made her exit with Asuma, smiling, Ryoji turned his attention back to the room, his gaze nding on the corner where a stack of parchment y. His fingers twitched.

  A crackle of energy filled the air, and before anyone could blink, a sleek wooden chair had formed itself in the center of the room. The chair was fwless—smooth, polished, and almost impossibly well-crafted for something made so effortlessly. Ryoji gave it a quick inspection before sitting in it, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

  Hiruzen’s brow twitched. "You do realize the maintenance crew is going to have to fix the floor again, right?"

  Ryoji shrugged. "They’ll survive." He then smirked. "The chair’s good enough to sell, at least. You’re welcome."

  A chuckle escaped Hiruzen, though it was more resigned than amused. "Yes, the selling part is appreciated. But the sanding... not so much."

  Ryoji leaned back comfortably, looking every bit the young head of the Senju cn, despite his age. His fingers drummed on the armrest as the minutes ticked by, the room growing tense. Soon enough, the door opened again, and in walked the three members of the council: Danzo Shimura, Koharu Utatane, and Homura Mitokado.

  Ryoji’s eyes narrowed. This was the moment.

  Danzo entered with a steady step, leaning on his cane, his sharp eyes falling on Ryoji. Koharu and Homura followed suit, their faces clouded with the usual air of disapproval.

  Ryoji stood up, locking eyes with each of them as he spoke, his voice ft but full of authority. "I’m here to demand the return of the Forbidden Scroll."

  The councilors exchanged uncertain gnces. Danzo’s lips curled into a tight frown. "You know, Ryoji, this scroll is not just a relic—it is forbidden for a reason. You cannot simply cim it because of your heritage."

  Ryoji leaned forward, unflinching. "It’s a Senju heirloom," he said slowly, stressing the words as if it should have been obvious. "And that makes it mine to retrieve. No matter what you old fossils think." His gaze shifted to Danzo, who had crossed his arms. "I’m not asking. I’m demanding."

  The air grew heavier, tension crackling as the councilors’ faces hardened.

  Homura, with his usual pompous air, sneered. "You are far too young to be making demands of us, Ryoji. Your position does not—"

  Before Homura could finish his sentence, the door to the Hokage’s office smmed open with such force that the entire room seemed to shake. Tsunade stood in the doorway, her expression fierce, her fists clenched at her sides.

  Ryoji barely spared her a gnce before he spoke, his voice sharp, with not an ounce of hesitation. "Shut the fuck up, you genocid—sorry, geriatric degenerates."

  The councilors froze.

  Tsunade’s eyes widened, momentarily caught between her instinct to protect her son and the sheer absurdity of what he just said. She took a step forward, her brow furrowed, but then she met Ryoji’s cool gaze. Something about his expression told her that the storm was far from over—and he was ready to face the council head-on, with or without her help.

  Danzo’s jaw clenched as he stared at the boy in disbelief. "This insolence—"

  Tsunade raised a hand, silencing him with a sharp gesture. Her voice was calm but firm, though there was a dangerous undertone. "Enough, Danzo. Let’s hear what my son has to say."

  Ryoji stood tall, his posture impeccable, his eyes unwavering as he looked at the council. "As I said, the Forbidden Scroll is a Senju heirloom. No more talking. Give it back."