"Hokage-sama, at the ripe old age of sixty, just how much longer do you think you can keep this up?"
The words struck Hiruzen Sarutobi like a kunai to the chest, stealing the air from his lungs for a moment.
"The Konoha of today has no need for two Hokages standing side by side. It has no need for schemers inside the Uchiha Clan, and it certainly has no need for..."
The young man pressed on, but Hiruzen raised a trembling hand and brought it down hard against the desk.
"Enough!"
He stared at Kakashi. In those sharp, unyielding eyes, the Third Hokage could almost glimpse the shadow of the man once known as Konoha's White Fang—the genius who had eclipsed even the legendary Sannin.
Sakumo Hatake had been steel on the outside and soft within.
His son, however, was forged entirely of steel, inside and out.
Especially when facing Koharu Utatane and Homura Mitokado; Kakashi showed them not even the faintest shred of deference.
Yet... Hiruzen could find no words to refute him.
Even as Hokage, he was painfully aware of the rot eating away at the village.
It wasn't only the Uchiha who harbored dangerous ambitions. Danzo Shimura was no different.
After Minato Namikaze's sacrifice, when Hiruzen had reclaimed the hat and traveled to the Fire Capital to report to the daimyo, he had been ambushed en route by a Wood Release assassin.
And the one who had orchestrated it all was none other than his old comrade of many decades: Danzo Shimura.
At the time, Konoha had been bleeding from a thousand wounds. Hiruzen had swallowed the betrayal, merely appropriating the Wood Release ninja for his own use.
Konoha. The Uchiha. Danzo. The true mastermind behind the Nine-Tails attack. And himself.
Hiruzen gazed down at his wrinkled, liver-spotted hand and let out a weary breath. Time was merciless. No matter how fiercely one burned in youth, age eventually reduced a man to a stooped and fragile shell.
"Konoha... in your eyes, has it truly become so..."
He fixed Kakashi with a heavy stare, words forming and dying on his tongue.
"That's exactly why I intend to change everything," Kakashi answered calmly. "While Kumogakure is still reeling from defeat, in this fleeting, fragile window of peace, I will become Hokage. I will make this rotting tree bloom again."
The declaration was delivered without arrogance or humility, only certainty. Hiruzen's eyes narrowed.
He could not deny the boy's motives. Kakashi had been born in Konoha, raised in Konoha; the Will of Fire was branded into his very bones. He had shared in its triumphs and its tragedies.
But if Kakashi truly took the hat, there would be no question who he would move against first.
Koharu Utatane and Homura Mitokado.
And once he learned the full truth about Root—once he discovered that Danzo had orchestrated the assassination of a sitting Hokage—Danzo himself would follow.
Kakashi Hatake was a man who could not tolerate a single speck of grime in his sight.
After them would come the Uchiha Clan.
Or rather, the hardline faction within it.
Three years had passed since that masked man calling himself Madara Uchiha appeared at the Konoha cemetery. Since then, whispers of a coup had only grown louder. Especially after Uchiha Hikari emerged, Fugaku's stance had become increasingly ambiguous.
Had the war with Kumogakure not reminded the clan of Konoha's strength, those restless voices might already have boiled over.
"...Go back for now," Hiruzen said at last, voice heavy. "Give me time to think on this."
Kakashi inclined his head in silence, turned, and left.
He had never intended to hide his ambition.
With Kumogakure crushed, peace negotiations were imminent. Once they concluded, Hiruzen Sarutobi could step down a second time atop the laurels of decisive victory.
History would remember only that the Third Hokage had guided Konoha for decades, yielded the seat to the brilliant Fourth, then—when tragedy struck—shouldered the burden once more with his aging body. That he had crushed Kumogakure and gracefully passed the hat to the Fifth.
A flawless retirement. A resplendent final chapter. Any small blemishes paled before the glory of single-handedly closing both the Second and Third Great Ninja Wars.
Even the legendary Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju, would seem slightly diminished beside such a record.
As the office door clicked shut, Hiruzen sank into silence.
He lifted his gaze to the three portraits on the wall and exhaled softly.
During the First War, Tobirama had entrusted him with the village. For decades he had carried that weight without faltering.
Three years ago he had finally laid it down, believing Minato would carry the torch far into the future.
Instead, this.
"Minato... you really did leave me quite the disciple..."
Hiruzen's eyes lingered on the Fourth's portrait, a bitter smile ghosting across his lips.
Stepping out of the Hokage Tower, Kakashi tilted his head back to regard the massive "Fire" character carved into the building's face.
It was said Hashirama Senju had grown it with Wood Release. For decades neither insect nor weather had marred it; it stood as hard and unyielding as iron.
Every shinobi who looked upon it felt reverence stir in their chest.
To Kakashi, it was almost comical.
They called Hashirama the God of Shinobi.
Kakashi preferred a different title: God of War.
With his own overwhelming power he had taken the petty clan skirmishes of the Warring States era and forged them into continent-spanning conflicts that swallowed tens of thousands of lives.
He had possessed the strength to unite the world, yet fixated only on the tiny plot of land called Konoha, spilling rivers of blood to protect it.
Had he lived longer, his might alone could have kept the other villages in line.
But Hashirama died young, scarcely a decade after founding the village, leaving the mess to Tobirama.
His vision had never matched his power.
Kakashi intended to finish what the First had started—properly this time.
To bind the entire ninja world beneath a single banner. To stand united against every enemy, foreign or otherwise.
Not just the masked man calling himself Obito, not just Nagato, not just the real Madara or Ōtsutsuki Kaguya.
But Isshiki, who had hidden among them for a thousand years, and the entire Ōtsutsuki clan waiting beyond the stars.
To end a millennium of bloodshed and usher in an age of true unification.
Becoming Hokage was merely the first step.
The power of ninja was too narrow; this world was vast and brimming with untapped potential.
So much lay dormant, wasted.
No one would be allowed to stand in his way.
In a world this extraordinary, the strength of one man—no matter how great—could never control everything.
Even Ōtsutsuki Kaguya had turned the population into White Zetsu to enforce her will.
That was why even a being as monstrously powerful as Isshiki had gathered followers and founded Kara.
Kakashi was no different.
No matter how strong he became, he would need comrades. Loyal subordinates. Friends he could trust.
That was the only way forward.
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