The paper in Hiruzen Sarutobi's hand was still warm from the courier hawk when he set it down, pipe smoke curling gently beside him. It bore the red seal of the Anbu Black Ops, their mission report fresh from the border of the Land of Fire. His aged fingers trembled slightly, not from weakness — but from pride.
"Very well done…" he murmured, smiling beneath his whiskered mustache.
Outside the Hokage Tower, the sun had just begun to rise, casting a golden hue over Konoha's tiled rooftops. The peace of the village stood in stark contrast to the brutality recorded in the report: the Fourth Raikage, furious and reckless, had attempted a covert strike — and failed.
"He underestimated what lies in Konoha's shadows…" Hiruzen said, placing the scroll aside.
At his side stood Nara Shikaku, arms folded, brows furrowed in quiet calculation.
"To face the Raikage and survive without reinforcement…" Shikaku muttered. "That's not an ordinary feat. And Tatsuya Hoshino isn't an ordinary shinobi."
Hiruzen's eyes twinkled.
"Indeed. He held the line. Bought time for Jiraiya's arrival. Protected the mission team. And sent the Raikage fleeing."
The Third Hokage paused, inhaling the scent of pipe tobacco.
"In him… I see a future not unlike Minato's. Calm. Strategic. But sharper. Less idealistic. Perhaps more dangerous because of it."
Shikaku nodded once, then added with his signature bluntness, "He's ready for more."
---
Land of Hot Water – Northern Border
The trees swayed violently as the Fourth Raikage stormed through the muddy terrain, his cloak billowing, chakra sparking with volatile lightning. His elite guard trailed behind in silence, careful not to approach too closely.
"That bastard…!" he snarled. "That masked Anbu… He wasn't just fast — he was precise. Surgical."
His voice thundered with rage, but beneath it was a rare trace of something else.
Worry.
The Raikage had faced Minato Namikaze. He had felt the terror of the Yellow Flash. And now, this… ghost in Konoha's black armor had felt hauntingly similar.
"Find out who he is. I want his name. His bloodline. His corpse."
"Understood, Raikage-sama."
"And the Hyūga mission?" he asked, snapping his gaze toward a subordinate.
The Jōnin swallowed nervously. "Still in progress, sir. Our agent hasn't returned yet."
"He'd better bring back the Byakugan," the Raikage growled. "Or I'll crush his windpipe myself."
He turned once more toward the distant horizon.
"Konoha won't humiliate me twice."
---
Two Days Later — Konoha
The gates of the Hidden Leaf stood wide open under the watchful eyes of the gatekeepers, who snapped to attention as Tatsuya Hoshino and his squad crossed the threshold. Their return was quiet, unspectacular — the way Anbu preferred it.
Yet even without fanfare, whispers traveled fast.
"That's the unit that repelled the Raikage?"
"Tatsuya's back. Alone against the Lightning Shadow… can you believe it?"
Tatsuya paid them no mind.
His stride was casual, but each footfall carried a silent discipline. His white hair glimmered faintly in the sun, tied back just loosely enough to give him an almost ethereal presence. Beneath the layers of his uniform, chakra seals laced his arms and ribs — prepped for emergency substitution jutsu and suppression nodes. Always ready. Always calculating.
He didn't head home. He didn't even remove his armor.
Because Sarutobi Shinnosuke was already waiting near the barracks.
"Tatsuya," he said. "The Hokage wants to see you."
Tatsuya nodded without expression.
Of course.
---
Hokage's Office
The Third Hokage stood beside his desk when Tatsuya entered, arms behind his back, eyes thoughtful.
"Remove your mask," Hiruzen said softly.
Tatsuya obeyed.
Even now, Hiruzen couldn't help but note the uncanny resemblance to a younger version of himself — tall, elegant, with striking blue eyes that saw too much and revealed too little. Gojo Satoru's features, reborn in Konoha's loyal blade.
"You've made us proud," the Hokage said. "Your actions at the border turned a disaster into a message. And that message is: Konoha's will is still iron."
Tatsuya gave a shallow bow. "I did my duty."
"But your duty is evolving," Hiruzen said, walking slowly to a drawer.
He pulled out a sealed wooden case, old and lacquered, carved with the Leaf symbol. Within it rested a long parchment scroll — bound in black ribbon.
"The Book of Seals," Hiruzen said, setting it on the table between them.
Tatsuya's eyes narrowed. He had heard of this. Every shinobi had. A ledger of forbidden techniques — those too powerful, too dangerous, or too sacred to be taught freely.
"I'm opening it to you."
"Why?"
"Because you are no longer just a weapon," Hiruzen said. "You are becoming a cornerstone."
Tatsuya stepped forward and slowly unrolled the scroll.
Techniques danced before his eyes, their names etched in bold ink:
Impure World Reincarnation — a defilement of life and death.
Eight Inner Gates — ultimate power at the cost of the user's body.
Tandem Paper Bombs — destruction without subtlety.
Multiple Shadow Clone Technique — useful, but limited.
Flying Thunder God Technique — teleportation through time-space seals, created by Tobirama Senju and mastered by Minato Namikaze.
His gaze paused on that last one.
Flying Thunder God.
He imagined it — stepping through space, striking before the eye could perceive, returning to safety in the blink of a breath. It wasn't just a jutsu. It was control. Dominance. The battlefield obeyed it.
"Flying Thunder God," he said quietly.
Hiruzen frowned slightly. "A difficult path. Even Orochimaru couldn't grasp its foundation. And you must understand — once you choose, that's your burden to bear."
"I've made my choice."
There was no hesitation in his voice.
And inside, the Divine Pickup System pulsed faintly.
🌀 Pickup detected: Chakra Affinity – Space-Time Ninjutsu
🌀 Passive unlocked: Neural Overclock (Reaction Speed Enhanced)
Tatsuya didn't blink.
It wasn't luck. It was alignment. A purpose matching his talent.
Hiruzen watched him carefully. "Very well."
He handed over a transcription scroll. "Copy the relevant pages. Do not share them. Do not fail to respect their danger."
As Tatsuya knelt and began transcribing, the Hokage added, "Before you go…"
"Yes?"
"You're allowed to make a request. Within reason."
Tatsuya paused. Then said:
"I want three shinobi assigned to me temporarily. For technique compatibility."
"Names?"
Tatsuya listed them quickly.
Hiruzen didn't question it. Just nodded. "Granted."
When Tatsuya stood again, scroll sealed and tucked within his armor, the Hokage looked at him one last time.
"Be cautious, Tatsuya. Power like this will tempt more than just enemies."
Tatsuya gave a faint smile.
"I'm already used to being hunted."
---
Outside — Hokage Tower, Rooftop
As Tatsuya stepped onto the tiled roof, scroll under his arm, wind tugging gently at his hair, he glanced east — toward the training fields. He could already picture the patterns forming in his mind. The hand seals. The formulaic marks.
Minato had been a flash of brilliance.
But Tatsuya?
He would become a storm.
---