Akira immediately used the Flying Thunder God Technique, his form vanishing in a flicker of space and chakra as he teleported back to the heart of Konoha.
Far away, in the desert lands of the Land of Wind, a single survivor of the earlier massacre finally stirred. The Sand Village Chunin, Takahashi, groaned as he awoke. His mind slowly escaped the clutches of the powerful illusion Akira had cast upon him—an illusion so deep it had held him captive for an entire day.
As his senses returned, the first sight to greet him was horrific: the corpses of his three senior comrades laid together with eerie reverence. Takahashi jolted upright, adrenaline flooding his veins. In panic, he reached for his weapons—only to realize his tool pouch was empty.
Looking down, he saw all his ninja tools scattered around him. Akira had disarmed him completely.
Frantic, Takahashi snatched a kunai from the sand, his hands trembling as he scanned the barren surroundings. Every breath felt like it might summon a phantom, every shadow a threat. He waited in tense silence for an attack that never came.
Gradually, realization dawned. The Konoha ninja who had slaughtered his comrades—Akira—was already gone. With a trembling sigh, Takahashi lowered his kunai. He was alone.
He found the bodies of the four other Sand ninja scattered across the battlefield, and with rough hands and a heavy heart, began to bury what was left of them. His duty now was clear: return to the village and report the disaster. More support would be needed to recover the fallen.
Meanwhile, Akira materialized within the walls of Konoha, just outside the Hokage Building. His stride was firm, purposeful. Lightning scars marked his cloak, and bloodstains patterned the fabric—remnants of his brutal battle.
He climbed the steps to the Hokage's chambers, where the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, waited.
Akira threw open the doors and stepped inside with deliberate urgency.
"Lord Hokage! I've completed the antidote with Lady Tsunade! We can start saving our comrades now!"
Hiruzen blinked in surprise. News of Akira's return hadn't reached him. He had ordered the Anbu to monitor the village gates specifically to report Akira's arrival.
Yet here Akira stood, bloody and worn, antidote in hand.
There was no time for reprimands. Relief washed over Hiruzen as he stood and approached.
"You've done well, Akira. Your return couldn't have come at a better time. The poison spreading across the Land of Wind frontlines has crippled many of our forces. With this antidote, we can turn the tide."
He immediately summoned the Anbu and gave orders for the antidote formula to be distributed to all Konoha field camps. Medical-nin were to begin preparation and distribution at once.
Only after the urgent orders were sent did Hiruzen turn back to Akira and notice the blood streaking his robe and the gashes in his clothing.
"You're hurt? What happened? Were you attacked?"
Akira offered a calm, dismissive smile. "It's nothing serious, Lord Hokage. On my way back, I was ambushed by a team from the Sand Village. Eight in total. I handled it. Took a few scrapes, but I've healed most of them."
"Eight?" Hiruzen's eyes widened. "They must have been after the antidote. That means they knew. They sent an elite force to stop you. What level were they?"
Akira nodded gravely. "Several were Jonin-level. One in particular, a puppeteer named Watanabe, was especially dangerous. I was nearly overwhelmed."
He began recounting the battle—part truth, part fiction. He described detecting the ambush early thanks to his Sharingan, then using shadow clones to split the Sand forces and eliminate them one by one.
When he got to Watanabe, Akira wove a tale of brutal combat. He depicted the puppeteer as a genius of deception and control, commanding nearly indestructible constructs. The battle, he claimed, pushed him to his limit.
"I used everything I had, Lord Hokage. My chakra was almost gone. I had no choice but to unlock the Yin Seal. That surge of chakra let me turn the tide, barely."
Hiruzen sat back in his chair, absorbing every word.
He knew the Yin Seal—a secret technique of the Uzumaki clan, passed from Mito to Tsunade. It was an extraordinary feat to have mastered it in such a short time.
"So you've inherited Mito-sama's legacy," Hiruzen said with awe. "That's no small thing. And you used it to return victorious, and alive. We owe you much."
Akira gave a humble nod. "It was a close call. I only regret that I couldn't bring back more information. I left one of the Sand ninja alive—he was unconscious, unarmed. I didn't see the need to kill him."
Hiruzen smiled with approval. "Mercy is a strength, not a weakness. That decision may carry more weight than you know."
Then, the Hokage frowned in curiosity. "One more thing. I sent the Anbu to watch for you at the village gate. Yet you arrived here without notice. How did you get past them?"
Akira's eyes gleamed slightly with pride. "I've been studying the Flying Thunder God Technique. I placed a mark inside the village before I left. When I was close enough, I used it to teleport back directly."
Silence fell in the room.
Hiruzen's pipe nearly fell from his lips.
"You've... already mastered it?"
"I wouldn't say mastered," Akira replied, modest. "But I've grasped the basics well enough to use it."
The Third Hokage exhaled slowly, the full weight of Akira's talent settling in his chest. First the Yin Seal. Now the Flying Thunder God.
He was a monster of potential. Strength, intelligence, heart. All wrapped in humility.
"Akira," Hiruzen said, his voice thick with admiration, "You are the future of this village."
And perhaps, Hiruzen thought silently, the future Hokage as well.
After a long string of pointed questions about the mission, Hiruzen Sarutobi's tone gradually softened. He leaned back in his chair, pipe smoke curling lazily into the air, and asked with a faint smile, "And how has your time with Tsunade been, Akira? What have you learned under her tutelage? How much of her skill do you think you've grasped?"
Akira sat quietly for a moment, then lowered his gaze as if weighing his answer. The truth was too outrageous. With more than a decade of hands-on experience and theoretical mastery from his previous life, his capabilities in certain aspects of medical ninjutsu already surpassed every known medic in the Shinobi world—including Tsunade herself. What he lacked initially was the practical adaptation of this world's chakra-based medical techniques. But after a month of intense learning under Tsunade, those gaps had been entirely bridged.
If one measured raw understanding and proficiency, Akira was confident he had already reached 120% of Tsunade's level. He was, without a doubt, the strongest medical ninja in Konoha.
But saying that aloud would sound like madness. No one would believe it, and worse, it would draw dangerous attention. He had been careful never to show his full capabilities in front of Tsunade either. Instead, Akira answered humbly:
"I've learned almost all of Teacher Tsunade's techniques," he said, voice measured. "But medical ninjutsu is subtle. It's not like destructive techniques, where results are immediate. Each patient is different—it's in the application where true mastery lies. I'd say I've reached about 70 or 80 percent of her level."
Hiruzen's eyes lit up with praise. To reach even 80% of Tsunade's ability at Akira's age was extraordinary. The old Hokage felt reassured that Konoha's future was in capable hands. Akira's potential seemed limitless.
The conversation drifted to Tsunade again, and Akira took the opportunity to relay a request Tsunade had entrusted to him—keeping Shizune by her side. Hiruzen didn't oppose. He understood that Tsunade, who had already lost so much, simply wanted to protect the last link to her lover.
"Besides," Hiruzen said with a nod, "being with Tsunade will only benefit Shizune. When she returns, we'll have another excellent medic."
With the official matters concluded, Hiruzen began to shift the tone of their talk. The warmth in his voice deepened as he started to share stories and bits of wisdom—the kind that didn't always make logical sense but were wrapped in emotional appeal.
"The Will of Fire," he said, "burns in every leaf of this village. The shadow of the fire illuminates us all."
Akira almost laughed out loud. He'd heard these words before—dozens of times—when he was just a viewer of this world. Now, experiencing them firsthand, he realized how seriously Hiruzen took this ideology.
It was painfully familiar. Hiruzen's words echoed Orochimaru's approach—repetition until indoctrination. Just say something grandiose and mysterious enough times, and people would start to believe it. In a way, Orochimaru had perfected this method. Hiruzen tried to implant a legacy; Orochimaru weaponized it.
Akira thought of the Sound Four, of Kimimaro, and Yakushi Kabuto—lost children twisted by belief into loyal pawns.
What Akira really wanted now was the reward for his efforts. Last time, Hiruzen had been generous, even granting him access to the Flying Thunder God Technique. This time, Akira had returned with the antidote to a nation-threatening poison—and survived an elite assassination squad from Sunagakure.
Yet Hiruzen never brought it up.
Akira's expression didn't betray his inner thoughts, but he was quietly irritated.
In truth, Hiruzen was conflicted. The last reward had already been substantial—perhaps too generous. Since this mission was a continuation of the previous task, giving more would break precedence. And besides, Akira already had so many valuable techniques in his grasp that Hiruzen wasn't even sure what else he could offer.
Still, Akira hadn't mentioned the reward once, and that fact alone moved Hiruzen. He saw a rare selflessness in the boy—or at least, what appeared to be selflessness.
Moved, the old Hokage decided to at least offer him rest.
"You've worked hard, Akira," Hiruzen said kindly. "Go home and rest for a few days. Now that the antidote is back, the pressure on our forces will ease. I'll assign you a mission again once you've recovered."
Akira immediately protested, all faux enthusiasm. "I'm not tired, Lord Hokage. I'm fully charged—ready for anything!"
But Hiruzen waved him off. "Even the strongest weapon needs care. Rest, Akira. That's an order."
Realizing the conversation was over and no reward was forthcoming, Akira bowed respectfully and left the office with a faint, forced smile.
The moment the door closed behind him, his smile vanished. Under his breath, he muttered curses no one could hear.
"Will of Fire, my ass. So damn stingy. No wonder your disciples turned to gambling, drugs, and forbidden jutsu. No wonder Orochimaru defected. If this is the Will of Fire, I'll pass."
He stormed off, bitterness trailing like smoke from a battlefield.
Back inside, Hiruzen's expression had also changed. His eyes narrowed.
Only a handful of high-level advisors knew the details of Akira's mission. For Sunagakure to have precise information about his whereabouts, someone had to have leaked it. And Hiruzen had a strong suspicion who it was.
Homura and Koharu may dislike the Uchiha, but even they wouldn't stoop to this. The only one capable—and morally flexible enough—to do such a thing was Danzo.
"I'll need to rein him in," Hiruzen thought grimly. "He's gotten too bold."
Elsewhere, in the shadow-drenched halls of the Root base, Danzo Shimura was seething.
News of Akira's survival had already reached him. The brat had returned alive.
"These fools from Sunagakure couldn't even kill one Uchiha boy," Danzo muttered darkly. "Wasted good intelligence for nothing."
He had hoped to remove Akira cleanly, using Sunagakure's desperation to protect their secret poison research. He'd timed it perfectly—leaking the mission's target and location just as Akira parted from Tsunade.
Everything should've gone flawlessly.
But Akira, unpredictable as ever, had returned.
Danzo didn't yet know Akira had mastered the Flying Thunder God Technique. If he had, he'd be even more alarmed. A ninja with that kind of mobility was a nightmare to eliminate.
Just then, a Root agent knelt beside him.
"Lord Danzo. Message from the Hokage. He wishes to speak with you."
Danzo's eyes narrowed further.
Of course. Hiruzen wasn't a fool. Even if he couldn't prove it outright, he would suspect. If Akira had died, the matter would've been sealed, but now...
Danzo stood slowly, shadows clinging to him like a second skin.
"So... it begins," he murmured.
The battle for Konoha's future wasn't fought with kunai alone. It was fought in the silence between words, in meetings behind closed doors, and in the quiet calculation of old men who feared irrelevance more than death.