Danzō still wanted to argue, but he could clearly see that Hiruzen had no intention of changing his decision.
If things were simply pinned on the Uchiha's "lost eyes," then all of his prior efforts would've been for nothing. Worse—this would shift the Uchiha from suspects to victims.
Even if that wouldn't allow the Uchiha to overturn their situation completely, it would soften the villagers' resentment.
And that wasn't something Danzō could accept.
But just as he clenched his jaw, a flash of insight lit his gaze. He let out a low, dismissive snort, then turned and left the Hokage's office with the two advisors trailing behind him.
Once they were gone, Hiruzen picked up another report from his desk.
It was fresh from the front lines—submitted by Kawahara Junji.
It didn't just acknowledge the personal bias in his first report, but heaped praise on Ishiki Kujo, painting him as a devoted shinobi of the Hidden Leaf, a true inheritor of the Will of Fire.
Beside that were two more reports:
One from Orochimaru, and the other from Nara Shikaku.
Orochimaru's report included field assessments and strategic plans, but it made special note of several standout shinobi—Ishiki Kujo among them.
To be personally praised by one of the Sannin spoke volumes.
Shikaku's message mirrored the same sentiment. He also cited the bounty placed on "Spring-Healer Kujo" by the Land of Lightning, and Kumogakure's growing alarm over him.
He specifically highlighted the synergy between Yang Release Taijutsu and Medical Ninjutsu, emphasizing how this combo allowed Ishiki to rescue countless Leaf shinobi and win deep trust across the camp.
"Seems ever since the Nine-Tails attack, Kujo's name keeps popping up more and more…" Hiruzen muttered, both pleased and skeptical.
Sure, some shinobi grow rapidly under pressure. It happens.
But there are limits.
In just three months, going from a basic genin to an elite-level jōnin? That bordered on impossible.
If Kujo were an Uchiha, perhaps. But he wasn't—he was from the Kujo Clan, a fading bloodline with no record of remarkable talent.
Not to mention the chakra.
There was simply no way a normal genin had the reserves to support that kind of growth.
And Hiruzen, the "Professor," knew better than anyone.
Even prodigies like the Uchiha couldn't open their Sharingan to three tomoe and master high-level jutsu in just a season.
No—there was something else at play here.
He glanced at the final document on his desk.
The report on the "Seventeen Forgotten"—those who mysteriously lost their ability to mold chakra the night of the Nine-Tails attack.
Even after relearning, they'd needed to start from scratch.
From Clone Technique… all over again.
Hiruzen sighed deeply.
"Have ANBU bring Kujo to me the moment he returns to the village," he instructed.
According to the current rotation, Ishiki would return for rest and reassignment in just over ten days. That would give Hiruzen time to gather opinions, observations, and any new intel.
A new teacher might also be necessary.
Tsunade was a natural fit. If things aligned, maybe he could use this opportunity to finally pull her back to the village.
…Though whether to actually give her Kujo's files was another matter.
Meanwhile, Ishiki Kujo had no idea what was unfolding behind closed doors in the Hokage's office.
He only knew one thing:
His body was hitting its absorption limit.
Yes, the growth was still there—but slow.
Minuscule, even.
Still, that was enough to push forward the plan he'd been holding off on.
It just couldn't happen inside the military encampment.
He glanced up at the glowing ruby ceiling of the President's interior dimension.
His shadow clone should've reached the Land of Hot Water by now.
The place was quiet—desolate, post-war.
Perfect.
His clone had already burrowed into a mountain range, scouted with Byakugan, and ensured no one was nearby.
Now it was time.
The clone summoned the President, who immediately brought Ishiki, Stand: Highway Star, and the unconscious Yugito Nii into the woods.
She was already awake—silent, cold-eyed, burning with resentment.
Ishiki didn't care.
He stepped forward and, without hesitation, yanked open her flak vest and lifted her top to expose her toned, pale abdomen.
With a spark of chakra across five fingertips, he slammed his palm down on her stomach.
Pain twisted her features as she gritted out:
"It's useless. Matatabi won't come out."
"Oh?" Ishiki smirked. "You sound pretty sure."
Yugito narrowed her eyes, tense and furious.
"I'm sure."
Ishiki leaned in, voice smooth, almost taunting:
"You can hear me, can't you, Matatabi?"
His Sharingan spun crimson.
"I don't get it. Why do you keep letting yourself be caged in a human body? Why be friends with the very people who imprisoned you?"
"That's stupid. And it won't ever set you free."
He paused—then said the words he'd been saving for the kill.
"I know your future. In a few years, you'll be revived after death. But you'll be captured again.
Kumogakure will seal you into a new host.
You'll warm up to them.
You'll bond.
They'll send you both to Turtle Island, and once more, you'll be tested at the waterfall of truth.
The host will impress you. You'll weep.
Then you'll fight—and die—for this village. Again."
He stepped forward into a realm of swirling black.
Yugito stood guard at the gate of her own seal, looking at him like he was the devil himself.
Ishiki didn't even glance at her.
His gaze fell on the figure behind her—small, feline, ethereal.
"Hello, Matatabi," he said warmly.
"I'm Kujo Ishiki. Your future friend."
His body glowed with the golden shimmer of Ripple energy, his aura radiant, sincere, almost divine.
"Would you like to come with me?" he asked.
"To live outside.
Free.
Unshackled by seals or villages.
No more beautiful lies.
No more dying, again and again, for someone else's cause."