Chapter 19: The Hokage and the Underworld
The setting sun dipped low over the rooftops of E-Rantel, casting golden rays between chimney stacks and fluttering laundry lines. The streets were thinning now, the merchants packing up their carts and closing their shutters. Arche and Naruto rode through in companionable silence, the gentle clop of hooves filling the space between them.
Though they hadn't gained a battlefield medic, they'd gained something almost as good—access to the city's best pharmacist. That alone was enough to call the trip a minor success.
Still, Naruto's brow was furrowed. He was quiet, unusually so.
Arche leaned a bit closer, resting one hand on the saddle's side. "You're thinking about the incident again."
He nodded, eyes fixed forward.
"We were caught with our pants down," he muttered. "I hate that feeling."
"You didn't wear pants in your last fight either," Arche replied deadpan, her humor dry. "Just your battle robe."
"Details," Naruto waved her off. "Point is—we need eyes. Information. Something like ANBU. Something… watchful."
Arche blinked. "You're thinking of forming a covert intelligence unit?"
He turned slightly in the saddle. "Yeah. I had that in the Leaf. Elite operatives in the shadows, gathering intel, eliminating threats, running recon. We had entire networks set up—code words, masks, ciphers…"
He trailed off, the idea blossoming but rootless in this foreign world. "But I don't know where to start. I don't have a ready supply of ninja. I don't even have chakra clones that can spy without blowing up a wall."
Arche tilted her head thoughtfully. "What about the Thieves Guild?"
Naruto raised an eyebrow. "You mean… people who actually steal things?"
She gave a little nod. "They call themselves many things. The Dark Brotherhood. The Hidden Market. The Black Web. But yes—it's the criminal underworld. Assassins, spies, informants, fences, smugglers. Many of them are more loyal to coin than creed."
Naruto narrowed his eyes. "That sounds... risky."
"Everything worth doing is," she replied smoothly. "But if you want a network that already exists, that already has ears in the walls and eyes in the dark… there's no better place to start."
He mulled over it, the wind gently tugging his cloak. "Would they even work for someone like me?"
"You're powerful," Arche said. "You've made a name. If anything, your strength will make them want to be on your good side. And if you offer them structure—purpose—they may even welcome it. Most of them are just people trying to survive under different rules."
Naruto gave her a long, searching look. "You've thought about this before."
"I've read about them before," she corrected. "One of my professors used to say that the line between information and crime is paper-thin. The guild is old, older than many kingdoms. If you find the right person to contact… you might just lay the foundation for your own intelligence network."
Naruto's eyes glittered with renewed fire. "Then I guess I should find out where the shadows gather in E-Rantel."
Arche gave a rare, mischievous smile. "There's a tavern two streets from the old bell tower. No windows. No name. They serve vinegar ale and pretend not to see blood stains. If you loiter long enough with enough coin, someone will talk to you."
He grinned. "You're kind of terrifying sometimes."
"I read a lot."
As the city gates closed behind them and their mansion rose in the distance, Naruto felt it.
---------------------
It wasn't every evening that one dropped their companion off at a quiet mansion, morphed into the image of a dead Kage, and sauntered off to tame the criminal underworld. But for Naruto Uzumaki, now impersonating the stern-browed Second Hokage with a flair of dramatics, this was shaping up to be a rather typical Thursday.
He dismounted the horse with a graceful hop, offered Arche a casual two-fingered salute, and whispered, "Be back before tea," before melting into the shadows as if he'd been born from them. His chakra suppressed to a whisper and Sage Mode wrapped tightly around his senses, Naruto became a ghost in a world that didn't know it was haunted.
The Dark Brotherhood, despite its ominous name, was not as hard to find as one might hope. Hidden beneath the cracked cellar of a suspiciously windowless tavern (where the drinks were stronger than the patrons' teeth), the Brotherhood's headquarters oozed cliché with every stone slab and flickering torch. Naruto had to admit—he admired the commitment to aesthetic.
Inside, the air smelled of damp wood, old blood, and overly ambitious cologne.
It didn't take long for Sage Mode to pick out every heartbeat, every breath, every silent footstep along the walls. They were watching him. No doubt crossbows were trained on his back and blades itched to leap from shadows.
He smiled.
He moved.
What happened next wasn't so much a fight as a brief, chaotic dance of confused limbs, muffled yelps, and a dozen surprised assassins suddenly sporting binding fuinjutsu glowing like elegant tattoos on their necks.
Mind control was such a nasty word. Naruto preferred "strategic loyalty enhancement."
In the center of the chaos, a wide double door creaked open, and out waddled a man who looked like a very rich potato in a finely tailored vest. His head was shaved, and his lips pursed like a man who had just tasted lemon and found it insultingly poor.
"Wilson Fisk," the man introduced with a voice like gravel mixed with honey. "Head of this delightful establishment. And you are...?"
"Your new boss," Naruto replied cheerfully, pulling up a chair and sitting as if this were tea with Mrs. Weasley.
Wilson blinked at the glowing seal on his chest.
"Oh. Well. That's new."
The conversation that followed was oddly civilized. Wilson, for all his size and criminal record, had the conversational grace of a university professor and the suspicious sighs of a man who knew exactly when he'd been cornered.
"So, stealing, smuggling, death-for-hire, bribes, information brokerage…" Naruto ticked off on his fingers. "You guys have been busy. But you're not even the top dogs?"
Wilson sniffed. "Hardly. We're freelance talent. The real puppeteers call themselves the Eight Fingers. If we're criminals, they're monsters in silk gloves. Nobles, merchants, military men, even priests—every major pillar of the kingdom's power has at least one finger on it."
Naruto frowned. "Sounds like the kind of people who need... disarming."
"I like you," Wilson said.
"I like me too," Naruto replied.
Once he'd squeezed all the useful information from the ever-sweating Fisk and had the Brotherhood under his metaphorical and literal seal, Naruto stood and stretched like a man who had just spent the afternoon gardening.
"I want to see your best people," he said, cracking his knuckles. "No offense to the fellows with the crossbows, but I want quality. Show me the best in E-Rantel."
Wilson raised a shiny brow. "You want the Top Three?"
----------------
Wilson Fisk was not the sort of man who rushed, unless something was on fire or his pockets were being emptied. But tonight, under the influence of a certain spiky-haired shinobi, the heavy-footed crime lord moved with remarkable haste.
"I'll fetch the best," he muttered, waddling toward a hidden iron door and muttering a password that sounded suspiciously like a bread recipe.
When the door swung open, three figures stepped in, like the opening act of a particularly theatrical play.
The first was a woman who moved like a shadow that had gotten bored of being stepped on.
She was tall, lean, and her deep grey skin shimmered faintly beneath her cloak. Her hair, dark and twisted like vines, framed eyes that burned with cool disinterest. Two long daggers hung at her hips, but Naruto was sure she could kill with a toothpick if she had to.
"Electra," Fisk said with the tone of someone both impressed and terrified. "Dark elf. Knife lover. Doesn't say much, but she's the reason half the nobles no longer sleep with the lights off."
She offered Naruto a single nod, sharp as her blades.
The next one was larger than life—literally.
He looked like a bear that had stood up, gone shopping for guns, and then taken a vow to destroy anything in gold. He was covered in thick fur, had a heavy scar over one eye, and an axe that looked like it had seen more nobles than courtrooms. Slung across his back were firearms of unfamiliar design, gleaming cold in the dim light.
"This is Punisher," Fisk announced warily. "Lost his family to noble scum. Now he punches through problems. Literally. Also a gun expert, though he doesn't like using them unless necessary. Says it's more personal up close."
Punisher said nothing. He simply gave Naruto a look that said: Point me, and I'll burn it down.
Naruto, who once punched a moon in half, liked him immediately.
The last was... different.
He was lean, dressed in a crimson outfit, with a cloth covering his eyes like some kind of rebellious monk. Yet he moved with unnerving confidence, tilting his head as if listening to the shape of the room.
"Daredevil," Fisk said. "Blind as a bat, but sees with sound. Espionage, infiltration, surveillance... you name it. He's polite. Too polite. But he's walked out of fights no one else survived."
"Your heartbeat's steady," Daredevil said softly, turning his head toward Naruto. "But it skipped when you saw Punisher. You admire him."
Naruto blinked. Then grinned. "I like ears that work better than eyes."
The trio stood before him—silent, serious, a little bit edgy—but all of them alive in that way only survivors of bloody paths could be. Naruto tilted his head, thoughtfully examining the chakra signatures pulsing under their skin. Weak by his standards, yes. No more than genin level.
But potential? That they had in spades.
"Right," Naruto said, clapping his hands. "You lot belong to me now. No take-backs. Congratulations."
Electra raised an eyebrow. Daredevil smirked faintly. Punisher crossed his arms like a man who didn't care whose orders he followed so long as the blade hit the right neck.
Naruto tapped a finger on each of their foreheads. Glowing seals spread like calligraphy down their temples, forming shimmering markings etched in chakra and will.
"Slavery seal?" Punisher asked without anger as he knew they couldn't do anything here.
"Loyalty enhancement," Naruto corrected with a straight face. "Also protects you from mind control, gives you access to chakra-based boosts, and makes your hair shinier. Win-win."
He placed a scroll on the table. Inside were blueprints—cloaks, masks, armor forged with fuinjutsu, everything a good ANBU needed to be anonymous, efficient, and slightly intimidating at family reunions.
"You'll report to Clementine. You'll train with me. Every day, I'll infuse your bodies with my chakra and push you further. Strength. Stamina. Mana. All of it goes up. You'll become legends. Or at least reasonably terrifying footnotes."
"Who's Clementine?" Electra finally asked, her voice smooth and deadly.
"My second scariest friend," Naruto said fondly. "And don't worry, she'll break you only a little."
He turned to Wilson, who now looked like a proud but terrified parent watching his kids go off to assassin camp.
"You've done well, Mr. Fisk. Keep an ear to the ground for me. Anything from the Eight Fingers, nobles, monsters, demons—heck, even badly baked pies—I want to know."
Fisk saluted with a wet dab of his brow. "Yes, sir. And... may I live?"
"For now," Naruto said, smiling like a fox. "Unless you start lying. Then I'll use you to test Punisher's new gun."
Naruto vanished into the shadows, three new agents behind him, his plan for an ANBU reborn in a world that had never seen anything quite like him.
Back at the mansion, Arche was sipping tea by the fireplace, unaware that by breakfast tomorrow, they would have a personal intelligence force.
And Naruto? He was finally beginning to feel like himself again.
Not just a wanderer. Not a substitute.
But a leader.