The walls were painted a stark white. In the narrow room, there was only a wooden bed and a small table and chair. Cold lighting shone down from above. Sarutobi Hiruzen sat hunched over the desk, practicing calligraphy. The living conditions here were generally poor, but for a former Hokage, his treatment wasn't overly harsh for him.
As long as his requests weren't excessive, the guards generally obliged.
This was a small courtesy extended by Akimichi Torifu to an old friend. After all, they had once been classmates.
"Hah..."
Sarutobi Hiruzen exhaled softly, lifted the character he had just written, and admired it under the light. The freshly inked "nin" character swirled with bold strokes. He nodded with some satisfaction. "Not bad. My skill hasn't declined." He mused whether he should hang it on the wall.
Just as he held the paper up, trying to find the right spot—
Hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.
"Father!"
The visitor caught Hiruzen by surprise.
Standing at the door was his second son, Sarutobi Asuma.
"Asuma?"
Hiruzen stared at his son leaning on the railing. For a moment, he was stunned—he hadn't expected to see this rebellious son of his now. Asuma had grown taller since leaving the village. His beard had become a full-grown scruff, and tied around his waist was the cloth badge symbolizing the Twelve Guardian Ninja. It seemed he had been living well.
"Father… how did it come to this?"
Asuma stood at the door, gripping the railing, staring at his father—once the Hokage, now stripped of the robes of office, clad in plain gray clothes, his hair turned white, his face lined with age. He looked like an old farmer one would find on the roadside. Asuma's heart filled with a strange mix of bitterness and heaviness. The resentment he once held melted away, replaced by deep worry.
"What really happened?"
"That's not something you need to know. I simply… lost."
Hiruzen shook his head.
He didn't want his youngest son involved in these matters.
In the past, if Hiruzen had given such an evasive answer, Asuma would've flipped out immediately. But today, he fell silent for a moment. Instead of losing his temper, he glanced at the guard standing at the end of the hallway and asked, "So… how's life here?"
Seeing that his son had learned to restrain himself, Hiruzen's mood lightened slightly. "Not bad. I've got food, water, ink, and paper. Not much room to stretch out, but I can still practice calligraphy. By the way, what brings you here, Asuma?"
"I came back after getting a letter from Cousin Zaemon."
"Zaemon?"
Mentioning that mediocre nephew made Hiruzen frown.
He'd been removed from office so suddenly that he hadn't had time to reassign internal clan affairs. That nephew of his was hardly fit to bear heavy responsibilities. A new clan head needed to be chosen—or the Sarutobi clan would struggle in the coming turmoil.
"What's going on with the clan now?"
"The clan? Uh… I heard the village is preparing for war with Kirigakure. Cousin Zaemon complained to me that more than two hundred clan members were forcibly conscripted."
"Over two hundred conscripted?"
Hiruzen's brows furrowed into a deep knot.
"Akimichi Torifu… damn him!"
His mood soured instantly. This was unquestionably bad news. He knew that with his fall from power, the Sarutobi clan would face suppression. But he hadn't expected Torifu to strike so quickly—and so ruthlessly.
Just then—
Boom! Boom!
Dull explosions echoed from afar.
The floor beneath them trembled slightly. The ceiling lights swayed, and fine dust and debris trickled down from above.
"What's happening?"
Asuma instinctively reached for his weapon pouch—only to grasp at nothing. He remembered that before entering this secret prison, he'd had to surrender all his gear. His chakra blades, his kunai—all left at the entrance.
He was now completely unarmed.
"Sarutobi Asuma, don't move!"
The warning came from the end of the corridor—from a member of the Aburame clan. And he wasn't alone. Two more guards flanked him: one with pure white eyes, and another bearing the Uchiha clan's flame fan crest. The display left Asuma momentarily stunned.
"To avoid any unfortunate misunderstandings, please stay where you are until the alarm is cleared. Do not make any sudden movements that could be misinterpreted."
The Hyūga guard issued the warning.
Seeing their tense expressions, Asuma paused—then seemed to realize something. "You don't think… that explosion had something to do with me?"
"Save it. Whether it does or doesn't will be investigated. If you're innocent, just stay put. If not… don't think you can escape from here," the Uchiha guard snapped coldly. His tone was downright hostile, and it made Asuma's face twist in anger.
Never in his life had he been talked to like that.
With a Hokage for a father, few in the village had dared speak to him this way. Even back when his father reprimanded him, he had stormed out of Konoha in defiance.
"Don't be rash, Asuma!"
Hiruzen grabbed his son's arm. Now was not the time to lose control. If Asuma started a fight here, the consequences would be severe. Though lonely in captivity, Hiruzen didn't want his son joining him in disgrace.
"...Damn it!!!"
Asuma let go of his clenched fist in frustration.
Seeing this, the Uchiha guard clicked his tongue in disappointment. In a voice loud enough to echo down the corridor, he muttered insults like "coward" and "trash."
Asuma's temple throbbed with anger, and his lips bled where he had bitten down in fury.
"Come to think of it, wasn't that explosion near where Danzō is being held?" the Hyūga guard interrupted the jeering, activating his Byakugan in curiosity.
"Yeah, the blast came from that direction."
The Uchiha dropped the taunts and followed the Hyūga's line of sight.
"Could someone be trying to rescue Danzō?"
"Maybe a leftover Root member."
"No way. Didn't we uproot Root completely? Half the village clans joined in the purge. If any Root members escaped, that'd be crazy!"
"If not Root… who else would save Danzō?"
"Hmm... You've got a point."
The Uchiha and Hyūga guards chatted animatedly. The Aburame stood silent, as expected of his clan—quietly listening, never joining in.
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