Chapter 16: Monitoring and Protection
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In Aizen's view, Konoha's administrative system was far less sophisticated than the Central Forty-Six Chambers.
Although the great clans theoretically formed the core of the village, these bloodline families had never developed a unified governing structure. The Hokage led from the top, but even the advisory positions were deliberately separated by the Third Hokage himself. Most of the time, the existence of these bodies was barely visible.
This lack of structure left Aizen perplexed.
There was no real voice for the clans. The lower and upper levels rarely understood each other's struggles. The entire village seemed to rely solely on the Will of Fire as its binding principle. It sounded strange—but in the world of shinobi, it was perfectly normal.
Because no one had the time.
Like hounds forever pursued by unseen predators, every ninja lived life at double speed. Children carried the burdens of youth, while youth carried the burdens of adulthood. Their lives were accelerated—compressed.
Even war itself seemed to move faster.
Endless conflicts consumed the nations, one after another. Human lives became snowflakes—fragile, fleeting—melting into mist under the relentless sun. They didn't even need to be touched; they simply disappeared into the world.
It was a tragedy.
Everyone understood the pain of this cycle, yet no one could find a way to stop it. The First Hokage had once tried to forge a lasting peace, but even his ideal—the distribution of the Tailed Beasts—had been twisted into a tool of war.
The fragile balance didn't last. And soon after, the world fell into another great conflict. Every nation had its reasons—hatred, politics, economy, survival. Everyone simply wanted a better life.
But in this world, such dreams remained only wishes.
Aizen had once believed that a world without the Soul King would be a better one. But as his perspective broadened, as his knowledge deepened—and as he lived among these people—he came to understand something greater.
People are still people.
No matter the world, no matter the power, human nature remained unchanged. People desired life, and those desires birthed ambition. Ambition, in turn, led to conflict—an instinctive struggle to claim more space, more security, more power.
And so, war was inevitable.
Oppression was inevitable.
Aizen didn't possess the power to stop it—nor did he believe he had the right to. But he found a strange comfort in watching humanity strive to end it, to push against the tide of their own nature.
That struggle, that defiance of despair, was something even he could respect.
Hatred and greed were human, yes—but so too was courage.
To recognize the ugliness of the world and still fight to change it, even knowing one might be destroyed in the process—that was true bravery.
No one was braver than those who did so.
After politely greeting the Konoha gate guards, Aizen stepped into the drizzle. Opening a paper umbrella, he began walking along the main street.
The light rain did little to dull the liveliness of the village. Vendors set up makeshift awnings to shield themselves, calling out to customers in cheerful voices. Shopkeepers stood under eaves, watching the streets with warm smiles.
When they noticed Aizen—brown-haired, glasses glinting, white haori flowing—their eyes brightened immediately.
"Oh! Lord Aizen! You haven't eaten yet, have you? Come, have a meal!"
"Ah, no, thank you," Aizen replied gently. "I was planning to buy my own groceries."
"Lord Aizen, you're shopping in person again?"
"Yes. On one hand, I like to make sure the prices in the market are fair. On the other, it helps me stay connected with everyone."
"You're already a village consultant, yet you still buy your own food?"
Aizen smiled softly. "I've always seen myself as part of this family we call Konoha. If my family suffers because of my negligence, that's my failure. So I insist on doing these little things myself."
"Amazing!"
"Ah, no need for praise," he said with an embarrassed chuckle. "Just let me pay the normal price."
"…Of course, Lord Aizen!"
As he went from stall to stall, merchants and shinobi alike greeted him warmly. Some slipped in extra vegetables or discounted goods without a word.
It was a simple way of showing kindness—giving more, asking less.
Aizen no longer cared about such material things, but in the face of their sincerity, even he couldn't help but feel humbled. Smiling awkwardly, he bowed and quickly walked away, clutching his grocery bag and umbrella as if escaping from their overwhelming goodwill.
For these people—ordinary villagers, low-ranking shinobi—it didn't matter who truly governed them. What mattered was that their lives had improved.
And in truth, life had gotten better since Aizen's arrival.
He had ordered rotations of shinobi to monitor prices, punished corrupt merchants, and dismantled black market guilds rooted in the village's underbelly. Authority was returned to the Hokage's office, stabilizing governance.
Then, Aizen began promoting mutual aid—encouraging the elderly, teachers, and retired ninja to support orphans, widows, and the poor.
Such actions were almost unheard of in Konoha. Not because no one had ever cared, but because previous efforts were always limited to the ninja caste. Clan problems stayed within clans; little ever reached the public eye.
Aizen changed that.
His reforms, both visible and invisible, spread quickly.
His name echoed through the streets. Among civilians and low-ranking ninja alike, the man in glasses and the white haori was seen as someone who understood. Someone close. Someone good.
And soon, the villagers of Konoha began to say something quietly among themselves—
They knew Aizen.
But they no longer knew Sarutobi.
Incidents like this kept happening one after another, and even the shinobi secretly assigned to protect Aizen couldn't help but sigh at the man's growing influence within the village.
Why did they let Aizen go about so freely? Why did everyone trust him so completely?
It was because of the way the villagers surrounded him—how he smiled, embarrassed, as they showered him with warmth. That sight alone made him seem humble, approachable, and human. Even the Third Hokage could not draw such affection from the people.
Watching Aizen retreat toward his courtyard, clearly flustered by the cheers and blessings of the villagers, the two hidden observers' expressions shifted.
One wore a look of quiet shame. The other, of cold mockery.
"You've truly humiliated yourself, Hiruzen," Danzo said with a sneer.
"You know very well that if he were to rebel, he'd likely overthrow you in a single stroke. If that day ever comes, I suggest you hand over the Hokage's seat willingly."
"…He's not that strong," came the calm reply.
"If he truly possessed the power and influence to control the village, do you think Aizen would still be just a Chunin?"
"I don't want to suspect him," Hiruzen admitted, eyes narrowing slightly. "But everything feels too coincidental. The haori, the lining, the tone of his words—it all points toward Sosuke. If he truly turned traitor, he could become the most dangerous one in Konoha's history… and I don't want to believe that."
"Hiruzen," Danzo said coldly, "you've grown old and soft. Have you forgotten that one of Konoha's founders was an Uchiha?"
"…"
Hiruzen fell silent.
It was true.
After all, Uchiha Madara had once been a founder of the village—and a traitor.
Looking at his old friend, whose cynical tone reflected both realism and disdain, Hiruzen realized there was no winning this argument.
One of Konoha's two founding brothers had abandoned it. The Uchiha now made little effort to hide their ambitions, and the position of Hokage seemed ever within their gaze.
What could he even say? That Aizen's rise reminded him too much of the same ambition? That he feared another Madara?
No matter how he phrased it, it would sound like greed—like he was clinging to power and accusing the innocent.
The Third Hokage sighed and quickly changed the subject.
"So, Danzo, who do you think is truly behind all this?"
"Hmph." Danzo folded his arms. "Koharu and Homura are irrelevant. They care only about maintaining their authority. They've long forgotten what it means to be shinobi."
As though indulging his old friend, Danzo's tone softened just slightly.
"I still believe it's the Uchiha clan. They've always been obsessed with the Hokage's position, yet they've never taken real steps to integrate with the rest of the village. Asking them to mingle with civilians is like asking them to die. They will never see themselves as part of Konoha's whole."
"Then why act through such strange means?" Hiruzen asked quietly.
"Because their clan has always been… twisted," Danzo muttered, voice dark. "Even the Second Hokage found them troublesome."
His tone lowered as he recalled old memories.
"Their eyes are the root of it all. If there's been no sign of new research or development, then this must involve some secret technique tied to those eyes. I know some Uchiha are innocent—some even try to integrate with the village, like Kagami once did—but that's precisely the problem."
He turned toward the Hokage, his gaze sharp.
"They speak of loyalty, yet they never abandon the name Uchiha. Why call themselves Konoha ninja if they refuse to let go of the clan?"
"…"
"To them, giving up the Uchiha name is betrayal. They want a Hokage from the Uchiha—not a Hokage for Konoha."
"That's enough," Hiruzen said finally. "Let's leave it there. We've seen what we needed to see."
"…"
A heavy silence filled the air.
And then, at last, Danzo relented.
The two men turned to go.
Before leaving, Danzo cast one final glance toward the courtyard—where Aizen stood beneath the rain, calmly cooking his dinner.
He had prepared a few small side dishes and a flask of sake, setting them beneath the eaves of the veranda. Sitting quietly, he began to eat and drink alone, the faint glow of his lamp flickering against the rainfall.
Without a word, the Hokage and Danzo disappeared into the shadows.
But neither man noticed what came after.
Moments later, two figures in white haori appeared silently in the writing room behind Aizen.
"…You don't mind being watched by Hiruzen and Danzo?" one of them asked.
"Why should I care?" Aizen replied lightly, pushing up his glasses. "It's a beautiful night. If someone feels melancholy, isn't it natural to have a few drinks under the moon?"
Uchiha Kagami stood behind him, his expression grim, eyes faintly glowing in the darkness.
"Besides," Aizen continued with a faint smile, "I'm simply giving the Anbu something to observe. They've been on edge all day. If I sit here quietly, it'll ease their nerves a little."
"…"
Kagami looked toward the direction of the hidden Anbu, whose empty, watchful eyes glimmered faintly through the rain-soaked night.
He exhaled softly, fists tightening at his sides.
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