No one present was foolish—except for Lee, who had little interest in such complicated matters.
Shisui stood with his arms crossed, deep in thought. He had gained a great deal from Naruto's questions and the way the blond always seemed to approach problems strategically.
These kinds of developmental discussions had happened many times before. At first, Shisui had found it hard to keep up, but with Naruto's guidance, he gradually learned to adapt.
Every time he listened to Naruto speak, new insights emerged.
Naruto himself had grown steadily as well—through perseverance and the principle that Heaven rewards diligence. His strength wasn't just physical anymore; it was intellectual.
Even Neji and the others were often left deep in thought by Naruto's questions. They realized that Naruto's strength wasn't only in battle—it was in his vision. That strategic foresight set him apart and earned their respect.
It was, in truth, the mark of a true leader.
When someone possessed both overwhelming power and unmatched wisdom, it was easy for others to follow them willingly.
Jiraiya stood silently off to the side, his expression thoughtful. Then, slowly, his eyes lit up.
—This must be the Child of Prophecy the Great Toad Sage spoke of.
Naruto's words, his innovative thinking, his spirit… they all showed Jiraiya a glimmer of hope for the entire shinobi world.
For decades, the cycle of war had consumed countless lives, bringing endless suffering to ordinary people. That was why Jiraiya had clung so strongly to the prophecy—perhaps it was the only thing that gave him purpose.
Most people in the ninja world lacked direction. They sought acknowledgment, status, or belonging.
Naruto, however, saw the problem differently.
To him, the people of this world lacked ideology—something to unite and guide them.
In his previous life, religious movements had thrived because they offered precisely that: a spiritual framework that gave people meaning.
And now, his own ideology spread quickly among civilians because it offered the same thing—hope, purpose, and the promise of a better life.
The Umbrella's philosophy wasn't mere words. It brought tangible change.
Naruto championed the integration of technology and Ninjutsu into everyday life—improving agriculture, production, and even mechanization.
As productivity soared, life under Umbrella's rule steadily improved. The Land of Waves was proof of this transformation. To ordinary people, these weren't just ideals—they were visible, meaningful results.
Ninja had always stood high above, their status surpassing even that of nobles. But now, Umbrella—a group with extraordinary power—chose to aid civilians rather than dominate them.
This was the change Naruto envisioned. The shinobi world, as it stood, still resembled a feudal society.
The Hokage and the Daimyō functioned like two kings dividing power—one ruling civil matters, the other commanding the military.
This "one country, one village" system, established by the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju, had its merits. Since shinobi weren't skilled in production, Hashirama entrusted economic authority to the Daimyō.
He had intended to protect civilians and limit shinobi dominance. But despite his good intentions, his vision was bound by the era he lived in.
What seemed like empowerment for the common people was, in truth, power consolidated among nobles. Civilians remained trapped in their station, with little hope of escaping fate.
The Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju, tried to change this by creating the Ninja Academy—allowing commoners to learn Ninjutsu and rise by merit. Under his rule, Konoha thrived and stood at the peak of the Five Great Nations.
Other villages soon copied this system, and the Third Hokage later used it to expand his own influence. His image, glorified in textbooks, eclipsed even his predecessors.
Naruto found that deeply distasteful—an act of rewriting history for vanity.
Without the Third Hokage's approval, who would dare twist the legacy of the Founders so shamelessly?
What Naruto sought was to dissolve class barriers entirely—to build a world based on fairness and justice.
True perfection might be impossible, but that didn't mean progress was.
The gap between those with supernatural power and ordinary people would always exist. So, Naruto aimed to eliminate that difference—by making everyone capable of power. Chakra might be limited, but martial arts and disciplined training could belong to all.
It was a long road ahead, but every step mattered.
Even if it never reached perfection, a world closer to equality and peace would already be a victory.
Because humans would always be complex—driven by emotion, ambition, and desire. Some sought enlightenment, others power, and others stability.
This meeting had enlightened Sasuke and the others profoundly.
And for Shisui and Jiraiya, Naruto represented the future of the shinobi world itself.
When the discussion turned to Konoha's internal issues, however, Tsunade grew troubled.
According to Naruto, for Konoha to truly change, it couldn't cling to its current structure. Real reform was necessary—only then could decay give way to rebirth.
"Tsunade," Naruto said, "you need to delegate authority. Are you still planning to handle every minor issue yourself? Some responsibilities can be entrusted to Shikaku and others."
Tsunade frowned. "If I do that, what's the point of being Hokage?"
Naruto could only smile wryly.
Konoha was practically a nation in itself, with the Hokage acting as its ruler. But the way things operated resembled an outdated monarchy—where everything passed through one person's hands.
Even in Boruto's era, trivial matters had piled up on Naruto's desk. Though the system was highly centralized, it left the Hokage overworked and the village stagnant.
To prevent another Danzo from rising among the Elders, Naruto had taken on too much himself—until he was crushed by the very power he held.
Centralization without balance was self-destruction.
Naruto, having studied centuries of human governance, understood this perfectly.
Solving Konoha's problem, he realized, was actually very simple.
"Listen to me—do you really want to keep dealing with all those tedious chores?" Naruto asked with a smile.
Tsunade spread her hands in a dare: "You try it, then."
Not long after, a new decree appeared—pinned up across Konoha for everyone to see.
[System Reform]
[Konoha establishes a Political Affairs Office to handle village administration and abolishes the Elder Council!]
[The Ninja Academy will expand its faculty. In addition to the Three Basic Ninjutsu, three elemental techniques per nature will be added to the curriculum. The Academy will implement a formal ranking system and regular examinations to track progress.]
[The Police Force will be staffed by ordinary villagers, who may participate in elections.]
[The shinobi promotion system will adopt a points system. Points can be exchanged for learning certain Ninjutsu, and those meeting promotion thresholds will be eligible for automatic Chūnin promotion.]
[Economic reform…]
Inside the Hokage's Office, the policy provoked an explosive reaction. Cheers and relief from some quarters; resistance and suspicion from others.
"How on earth did you come up with these ideas, kid?" Tsunade asked, excitement and bewilderment mixed in her voice. She slapped Naruto's shoulder with more enthusiasm than decorum—the two of them alone in the office.
"Your Political Affairs Office is brilliant," she went on. "The people who work there will be civil administrators with no independent military power. Ultimately, I still approve decisions, so authority remains accountable."
"The Academy needs strengthening—we practically went straight from class to combat when we were kids."
"But why staff the Police Force with ordinary villagers? And this points system—what are you thinking?"
Naruto rolled his eyes and casually sat in the Hokage's chair. He shrugged and gestured at Tsunade to give his shoulders a rub; she obliged, half glare and half grin.
"Konoha's Police Force looked powerful, but it handled mainly civil, day-to-day matters," Naruto said.
"That position ended up isolating the clan assigned to it. Look at what happened to the Uchiha—cold looks, mounting distrust. The problem wasn't that the Uchiha were criminal; it was the political role they were given, and the way public opinion turned on them."
"Ordinary villagers don't carry the same political weight. Let them run neighborhood matters. If something serious happens, dispatch shinobi. Local governance handled by residents reduces friction—and people talk to people more easily."
"As for the promotion points," Naruto continued, "that's to win over civilian shinobi. They aren't inherently less capable—many simply lack opportunity and access to techniques. If points let them learn specific Ninjutsu, they'll be grateful and loyal. Yes, it will touch the interests of clan shinobi, because it narrows the resource gap between clan-affiliated and civilian shinobi, but that's the point."
Tsunade listened, and understanding dawned across her face.
"Incredible. How did you even think of this?" she asked, still in awe. It made sense now why the fiercest objections came from entrenched clan circles.
"Think more," Naruto said with a grin, tapping his temple. There were layers to his plan—lessons distilled from centuries of governance and society. He had not revealed everything yet.
Tsunade's earlier anxiety melted into a cautious, fiery excitement. Reform was risky; reform was necessary. Delegation, accountability, training, and clearer pathways for civilians—these measures could change Konoha from the inside out.
Outside the office, the village buzzed with debate. Some praised the decree as long-overdue common-sense; others feared loss of traditional privileges. But a new fact remained: the conversation had begun. Power, once centralized to a few, was now being restructured to include many.
Naruto watched the reactions and felt neither triumph nor arrogance—only resolve. Change required patience and persistence. He understood the cultural and emotional resistances he would have to face: clans who had built identity around privilege, elders who feared losing influence, and civilians who had long been trained to accept their place.
Yet each small reform created openings: a youth in the Academy learning an elemental technique she could never access before; a villager serving on a neighborhood roster and trusting a process that listened to them; a civilian shinobi earning points and finally receiving promotion by merit.
That was the true aim—to give people the tools to change their fate, rather than be bound by it.
Tsunade's hands tightened on Naruto's shoulders. "All right," she said quietly.
"Show me the next steps. I'll set up the Political Affairs Office immediately—but we must be careful with implementation. If we rush, we'll only feed the critics."
Naruto nodded.
"We'll roll it out in phases. Pilot the Academy expansion in districts that need it most, stagger Police elections, and publish clear, verifiable criteria for the points system. Transparency will be our strongest weapon."
Tsunade gave a slow, approving smile. For the first time in a long while, she felt that Konoha might not just survive—but be reborn.
...
TN:
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