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  The Hokage's office door closed behind Hanekawa with a soft click.

  "Gather at the village entrance at nine o'clock," Tsunade had said, her tone brooking no argument. Now, several hours later, Hanekawa stood before the Ninja Academy's administrative office, requesting a leave of absence with the kind of polite formality that made the clerk barely glance up from her paperwork.

  He'd already informed Kurenai that morning. She'd pouted, naturally—the girl had a talent for it—but accepted the news with the resignation of someone used to his unpredictable schedule.

  By nine o'clock, Hanekawa had arrived at Konoha's main gate to find eight ANBU operatives standing in perfect formation. Their identical black uniforms and varied masks created an intimidating tableau that had the gate guards practically vibrating with anxiety from a safe distance. The ANBU had that effect on people—they were the village's killing edge, the kind of ninjas you didn't make eye contact with.

  "Teacher," Hanekawa greeted, spotting Tsunade. "Uncle Sakumo."

  "Let's move," Tsunade said, already looking like she regretted the entire operation. "We're burning daylight."

  The eight ANBU melted into the shadows without ceremony. That was the thing about elite operatives—they didn't need dramatic exits.

  Hanekawa fell into pace beside Tsunade and Hatake Sakumo as they began their journey. The Land of Demons lay between the Wind and Earth countries, a solid five to six days' travel at standard ninja speed. It was going to be a long haul.

  At least the scenery will be interesting, Hanekawa thought, though he suspected Tsunade was already mentally calculating whether he could handle the pace. She had confidence in him, but he was still technically a child. The irony of his adult mind in a six-year-old body never quite got old.

  "We'll cut through the Land of Rain to reach the Land of Wind, then push toward the Demon Kingdom," Tsunade explained as they ran, her breathing steady and controlled. "Bring rain gear—it pours there year-round."

  "Will passing through the Land of Rain provoke Hanzo?" Sakumo asked, his expression thoughtful. The Hidden Rain had never been friendly with Konoha, especially not since the Second Ninja War when the legendary Sannin had earned their reputation by surviving an encounter with the demigod shinobi himself.

  "No," Tsunade said with certainty. "He's too busy consolidating power. He won't risk antagonizing us."

  Hanekawa's mind immediately went to the real reason: Nagato and the Akatsuki. The young idealists were probably causing enough trouble that Hanzo had bigger problems than Konoha. Of course, Danzo's involvement in Yahiko's death would eventually turn that situation into a nightmare, but that was a problem for future Hanekawa to worry about.

  The Land of Rain announced itself with a sudden downpour that seemed to come from nowhere. Within minutes, they were soaked despite their hastily donned rain gear, the sound of water drowning out conversation. Tsunade led them forward without hesitation, and Hanekawa and Sakumo followed in silence.

  By nightfall, they'd reached the edge of the Land of Wind. The endless desert stretched before them like a warning—this was why Konoha's location was so strategically valuable. Favorable terrain meant survival.

  "We'll camp here," Tsunade decided. "Set up two tents, Hanekawa."

  Sakumo volunteered to hunt for food, disappearing into the darkness with the casual competence of a veteran. Hanekawa gathered firewood, finding himself absently using a sturdy branch as a makeshift sword. If I were actually six, this would be the height of entertainment, he mused, executing a few basic forms before tossing it onto the growing pile.

  The fire caught quickly. Sakumo returned with three skewers of fresh fish, already cleaned and ready for cooking.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "There's a river nearby," he explained, setting them over the flames.

  "I brought seasoning," Hanekawa said, unsealing a storage scroll.

  Sakumo blinked. "You brought... seasoning?"

  "I'm a chef. It makes sense, right?"

  "Fair point," Sakumo conceded, though he looked mildly bemused.

  Tsunade, meanwhile, was definitely pouting. She knew exactly why he'd packed those seasonings—because she'd complained about bland field rations one too many times.

  As the fish cooked, Sakumo struck up conversation. "Why haven't you graduated early? Kakashi says you're holding him back."

  "Not strong enough," Hanekawa replied simply.

  Sakumo laughed. "Kid, if you're not strong enough, what does that make everyone else? You're being modest."

  Not really, Hanekawa thought. I'm just thinking about Madara and Kaguya and trying not to have an existential crisis. Instead, he said, "I was being honest."

  "So you'll graduate normally?"

  "Maybe next year," Hanekawa said. He knew from the original timeline that Kurenai and Asuma would graduate in their fifth year—next year—due to the war situation. He'd probably be swept along with them.

  "Kakashi will be thrilled," Sakumo said with a slight smile. "He's been itching to graduate since he was seven, but you kept refusing to let him unless he beat you first."

  "He came to me with that condition," Hanekawa pointed out. "I didn't make the rules."

  "Actually, I should thank you for that," Sakumo said, his tone shifting to something more serious. "Graduating too early isn't always wise. This world doesn't exactly prioritize the mental health of young shinobi."

  Hanekawa nodded. Uchiha Itachi was the poster child for that particular tragedy—killing at four years old, his mind warped by the weight of it all.

  The fish was ready. Sakumo distributed the skewers, and they ate in companionable silence, supplemented by rice balls and sushi from Hanekawa's supplies.

  "Did the Hidden Sand send anyone to the Demon Kingdom?" Sakumo asked between bites.

  "Not that I know of," Tsunade said.

  Hanekawa chewed thoughtfully. The Third Kazekage's disappearance, he realized. That's probably why the Hidden Sand is too busy with internal politics to care about the Demon Kingdom.

  "Something's probably happened," Sakumo mused. "We should report it to the Hokage when we return. Could be useful intelligence."

  As the meal wound down, Sakumo sighed contentedly. "A cup of hot tea would be perfect right now."

  "I have tea," Hanekawa said.

  Sakumo stared at him. "How do you have everything?"

  "I'm a chef," Hanekawa repeated, already moving to prepare it.

  "Right. That makes sense," Sakumo said quickly, as if afraid to question the logic further.

  Tsunade stood, stretching. "I'm going for a walk. Don't let him drink secretly," she added, pointing at Sakumo with mock severity before disappearing into the darkness. Hanekawa knew she was actually heading to the river for a bath, using shadow clones as lookouts.

  As the water heated, Hanekawa poured Sakumo a cup. The older man took a sip and his eyes widened. "This isn't cheap tea."

  "Asuma stole it," Hanekawa said with a mysterious smile.

  "You mean... from the Hokage?"

  Sakumo started coughing violently.

  "Mostly," Hanekawa confirmed, pouring him another cup once he'd recovered.

  They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Hanekawa ventured, "Uncle Sakumo, I have a question. I'm not sure if I should ask it."

  "There's nothing you shouldn't ask me," Sakumo said, taking another sip of the stolen tea. "Go ahead."

  "Do you want to be Hokage?"

  Sakumo choked again, coughing hard enough that Hanekawa wondered if he should be concerned.

  "Did Tsunade put you up to this?" Sakumo asked once he'd recovered.

  "No. She has no interest in becoming Hokage right now. I'm just curious."

  Sakumo nodded slowly, seeming to accept this. "My dream as a child was to become Hokage," he admitted quietly. "But dreams change when you grow up. I'm good at missions, at the work itself. But everything else..." He trailed off, and Hanekawa understood. The failed mission last year, the accusations that followed—they'd shown Sakumo his own limitations.

  "If Teacher ever decides she wants it, I'd support her," Sakumo said, returning the favor. "She's better suited for it than I ever was."

  Hanekawa nodded, sipping his own tea and watching the fire burn down to embers. Outside the circle of warmth, the night pressed close, full of secrets and possibilities. But for now, there was just tea, companionship, and the comfortable silence of people who understood what it meant to carry weight.