A few hours later, Akira sat atop the stone visage of Hashirama Senju on the Hokage Rock.
The village lights flickered beneath him — warm, alive, unaware of the quiet storm inside their soon-to-be Hokage.
He already knew the result.
He had won.
Yet his heart was empty.
Instead of celebration, cheers, or clinking cups of sake, the boy just stared at the night sky. The moon hung faintly behind drifting clouds, a scattering of stars shimmering beyond them. Half an hour passed in silence, uninterrupted except for the breeze tugging at his hair.
Soft footsteps approached.
Kakashi took a seat beside him without a word, following Akira's gaze into the heavens.
For a while, neither spoke.
Finally, Kakashi broke the quiet.
"…Everyone is looking for you. They expected you to show up at the feast. Why aren't you celebrating?"
Akira didn't answer. His eyes reflected starlight but seemed distant — ancient.
Instead, Akira asked, voice barely above the wind:
"Kakashi… do you know how your father truly died?"
Kakashi's shoulders stiffened. He didn't reply — only lowered his gaze.
There was a few minutes of silence.
Akira continued, his voice cold, but not unkind:
"The death of Sakumo Hatake wasn't just tragedy. It was conspiracy."
Kakashi said nothing .
Akira's words were slow and precise, as if he had rehearsed this truth many times:
"He was too close to becoming Hokage. Too admired. Too independent. Hiruzen and Danzo feared him. So they turned the village against him — whispers, rumors, poison disguised as public opinion."
There was silence again for a few minutes.
Then Akira suddenly asked,
"Kakashi… do you think Naruto—do you think he could be the Nine Tailed Fox?"
Kakashi looked at him, surprised. Why would Akira, who knew the truth, ask such a question?
But Akira continued anyway.
"Do you think a newborn baby could kill hundreds of ninjas? Could they slaughter civilians and shinobi alike?"
His voice was low, steady — almost emotionless.
"Do you think a newborn child could even harm someone?"
Akira stared at the sky.
"Then why," he said, "did the villagers treat Naruto as if he had?"
He continued, his tone sharp, restrained:
"When Naruto was just a few months old, the caretaker — I don't know if she was manipulated, threatened, or did it willingly — poured a kettle of boiling water over him."
Kakashi's breath halted.
"And when Naruto grew a little older and wandered alone through this cruel world… no one supported him."
Akira's voice tightened.
"They threw stones at him. Bullied him. Whispered curses.
The villagers blamed a child for the deaths caused by someone else."
He looked down at the lit village below.
"And the whole village watched that circus — a clown show — and nobody stopped it."
---
Once again, silence settled between them.
Kakashi still didn't speak — he had no answer for Akira's questions.
After a long pause, Akira finally spoke again.
"Kakashi… do you remember? Just a few years ago, the reputation of the Uchiha clan in this village was terrible."
He let out a humorless breath.
"And saying terrible feels generous. It was worse."
His tone held no anger, only cold observation.
"Even when the Uchiha fulfilled every duty—policing, protection, sacrifice—the village cursed them. Spoke behind their backs. Looked at them as if they were a disease."
Akira stared down at the glowing village streets.
"I used to think maybe both sides were at fault — the Uchiha, and the village that feared them."
His voice dipped lower.
"But after thinking through all of that, I started wondering… what am I supposed to do now that I'm Hokage? Which side should I take?"
He laughed quietly — but there was no joy in it.
"A week ago, I was just someone doing charity. I had no responsibility for anyone's life. No duty to protect the village… maybe only some duty toward the Uchiha."
His expression hardened.
"But for Konoha? For the entire shinobi world?"
He shook his head.
"I never thought any of that was my responsibility."
---
A few minutes passed before Kakashi finally spoke again for the first time in a while, his voice softer, thoughtful.
"Akira… you know, if this had been a normal Hokage election, you wouldn't have become Hokage."
Akira didn't react, but he listened.
"Most people assumed you were destined to become the Seventh Hokage," Kakashi continued. "Not the Sixth."
There was silence again — Akira offered no reply.
So Kakashi went on.
"Itachi and I withdrew from the competition."
Akira's eyes flickered, but he still said nothing.
Kakashi leaned back, gazing at the stars.
"Do you know why?"
He didn't wait for an answer.
"Because you're different, Akira."
His tone lacked flattery — it was plain truth.
"You are different from us. Different from the ninjas born in war."
Kakashi's voice was steady, but each word carried weight.
"That is why Lady Tsunade and Jiraiya-sama call you the Child of Prophecy — the beacon of this generation, the Hashirama Senju of this era."
His eye turned toward Akira, sharp and unwavering.
"Do you know why? Because you are similar to Lord Hashirama. Lady Tsunade once told me… Hashirama-sama did not belong to his era. He wished for peace — for children to never go to war — for a village where everyone could live together."
Kakashi paused, letting the words settle.
"And she saw that same mismatch of eras in you."
He exhaled slowly.
"There may be many people in this world with ideals like yours. But even among them, we all felt the difference between their thinking and yours — as if you were born out of time. Just like how Hashirama-sama was different from the ninja world he lived in, you are different from ours."
His gaze returned to the sky.
"The way you act, the way you think — everything feels foreign to this age. There might be other ninjas with thinking like yours. Maybe even more brilliant. But there is a difference between them and you — enough that Lady Tsunade did not call them Hashirama."
He lifted a finger, firm and decisive.
"Because they do not have strength. In this world, strength precedes everything. After strength, ideals matter. And you — just like the First Hokage, Senju Hashirama — have strength. You grew even faster than Hashirama did. According to Jiraiya-sama… you will be the second Ninja God — a Ninja God who walks toward peace."
Kakashi's tone shifted, reverent yet earnest.
"And the entire Konoha saw it too. Every Chunin Exam ever held — whether internal or joint — death was inevitable. There were always funerals afterward. But only in your Chunin Exam… there were no deaths. Yes, people fought. There were injuries. But not a single life was lost. You consider life as life. Even after taking more than a dozen lives, you hesitate — with every swing, you question whether the other side is guilty."
He looked forward again, voice softer now, almost a whisper of awe.
"That is what makes you different from us — from the ninjas trained to kill. From a very young age, your thinking has not been shaped by the cycles of war or the instinct to follow orders blindly.
You approach conflict, strategy, and leadership with a level of moral consideration that surpasses your peers. You weigh the value of life in every action, striving to find solutions that minimize death and suffering."
Kakashi's expression hardened with conviction.
"Your perspective is forward-looking rather than reactionary. You do not act solely to win battles or gain personal power; you seek to change the structure of the world itself, envisioning peace and stability that extends beyond your village.
While other ninjas adapt to the circumstances of war, you challenge the norms of your era, creating alternatives where death and conflict are not the default outcomes."
He gestured subtly with his hand, emphasizing his point.
"Your decisions are shaped by empathy, strategic foresight, and an understanding of human nature. You build alliances not for immediate advantage but for long-term harmony.
You connect with multiple clans and individuals across Konoha to cultivate trust and cooperation. Even your innovations — the way you approach the Chunin Exams, the reforms you push within the village — all reflect a mindset that prioritizes growth, ethical responsibility, and societal progress over tradition or brute force."
Kakashi's voice dropped, heavy with the weight of what he was about to say.
"So everyone in Konoha — every high-ranking official, every elder, every commander — quietly placed their hope upon you. Hope that the future would not repeat our past.
Hope that the Fourth Great Ninja War you were so desperate to prevent would never come to pass. We all saw how you calculated, how you planned, how you fought the idea of war itself long before you ever fought another shinobi.
We noticed the way your eyes searched for outcomes where nobody died. That wasn't naivety… it was a different kind of courage."
He paused, letting the words sink, then continued with solemn pride.
"I, Itachi, Shisui, Tsunade-sama, Jiraiya-sama, Fugaku, even the old war-scarred veterans — we all came to call you something simple: Hope.
Just as Hashirama Senju reshaped the era of warring states into the era of hidden villages, every one of us began to believe that you would reshape our era into something better — towards peace, towards growth, towards what humanity could become instead of what it kept repeating."
Kakashi's gaze returned to Akira, intense yet warm.
"That is why — even though you are young, barely eleven, an age where you should still be sitting inside a classroom — no one objected.
Not a council member, not an elder, not even those who usually resist change. They saw a future in you. And they chose to entrust that future to your hands."
He let the silence hang for a moment, the weight of trust and expectation heavy in the air.
"You are different, Akira. You embody strength and wisdom. You think several steps ahead of the typical ninja.
You refuse to accept the inevitabilities of war, and you envision a future where leadership protects life rather than merely wielding power.
That… is what makes you not just remarkable, but necessary."
---