The night had been long.
Akira and Kakashi spoke until even the moon grew tired of listening — trading thoughts, doubts, and the quiet truths only two people standing at the edge of change could understand.
When dawn finally broke, Akira rose from his seat.
He finally returned to his home.
As for Kakashi…
Whether he left or lingered in the fading darkness, nobody really knew.
---
This dawn was different.
The air smelled of roasted skewers, fried dumplings, and sweet buns.
Colorful cloth banners fluttered over rooftops.
Paper lanterns lined the streets, swaying like tiny suns.
The entire village — from elders to academy brats — had spilled outside.
Stalls popped up on corners, steaming pots boiling beside sizzling grills.
Merchants barked loudly, children tugged at parents, and jonin walked around with rare, easy smiles.
Konoha wasn't just awake.
It was celebrating.
As if the village itself sensed something was shifting —
a new chapter turning,
a breath held for too long now finally released.
A festive pulse ran through the streets,
cheerful, chaotic, alive.
Today was not an ordinary morning.
Today, Konoha felt like a festival city dressed in its brightest skin —
vibrant, noisy, hopeful.
Somewhere above it all, Akira stood on the cusp of it —
watching a world preparing to greet its new era.
---
By noon, the heartbeat of Konoha peaked.
Drums echoed. Lanterns shimmered.
Children ran with paper fans while shinobi leaned on rails, trying not to look too excited.
This was the moment.
Before the Hokage Tower, a gathering unlike any witnessed in years had formed.
The Third Tsuchikage, shoulders stooped but eyes sharp as ever;
the Fifth Mizukage, Mei Terumi, radiant yet stiff with curiosity and… mild disappointment;
and the Fourth Kazekage, stoic as desert stone —
all stood with their respective escorts.
From the Hidden Cloud arrived two- tailed Jinchiruki Yugito and their envoy unit —
silent, armored, watching.
Clan heads of Konoha formed a dignified ring —
Hyuga elders, Nara strategists, Aburame silent sentinels,
Akimichi guards, Inuzuka handlers with their hounds,
and the Uchiha who remained, eyes flickering with something complicated.
Above them, on the Hokage rooftop, stood Jiraiya, Tsunade, and Akira.
Akira looked different — almost unrecognizable.
Gone was the casual kid who wore whatever felt comfortable.
Today he stood draped in formal Hokage attire —
white cloak embroidered with crimson flame patterns,
high collar brushing his jawline,
hair faintly ruffled by the wind.
Even the way he breathed carried authority.
A single smile — calm, effortless — was enough to make hearts flutter.
More than one kunoichi from the crowd felt her knees weaken.
Even Mei Terumi sighed deeply — not from admiration,
but from tragedy.
"Why," she thought bitterly, "must the handsome ones be eleven?"
She was thirsty for marriage — yes, everyone in the Five Nations knew it —
but no amount of desperation could make her marry a prodigy still in childhood.
Below, the crowds thickened, chants rising like a tidal wave:
"Akira-sama!"
"Sixth Hokage!"
"Long live Akira-sama!"
Tsunade stepped forward.
Her voice carried across rooftops, plaza stones, banners, and wind:
"From this day onward — Akira Uchiha shall serve as the Sixth Hokage of Konoha!"
The crowd erupted.
And with ceremonial grace — and maybe a bit of relieved exhaustion —
Tsunade removed her hat,
turned,
and placed it gently upon Akira's head.
The transfer felt less like a title…
More like a coronation.
Banners shook.
Confetti burst.
The chant became thunder.
But not every face smiled.
The Kage delegation shared uneasy glances.
For them, this was dangerous.
A new Hokage meant new diplomacy,
new tensions,
new uncertainties.
But a child Hokage, one who belonged to the legendary Uchiha —
and one rumored to be war-leaning and immensely powerful?
That was every village's nightmare scenario.
If a simple border dispute happened…
if one negotiation failed…
would this prodigy snap and declare war?
No one knew.
Their expressions were sober, guarded —
not only because Akira was unpredictable,
but because his strength shifted global balance.
Konoha cheered like a kingdom.
The world, however, braced.
---
Akira stood above the roar of thousands.
A strange sensation swelled through him —
not anxiety,
not pride,
but something deeper.
He remembered it.
The last time was years ago, far away —
back when Akira was in third year of Middle School,
when he stood on stage holding the Maths Olympiad trophy,
thousands clapping.
He had felt electrified back then —
excited, overwhelmed, dangerously alive.
Now?
The same feeling returned —
but amplified a hundredfold.
He let it settle inside him,
silence his heart,
steady his breathing.
Then — slowly —
Akira smiled.
He lifted his head and spoke, voice calm and effortless:
"Well… hello everyone."
Instantly — silence.
The cheers died.
Young genin froze.
Clan leaders leaned forward.
Even foreign Kage shifted subtly, waiting.
The soundless anticipation blanketed the plaza.
Akira could feel eyes —
the Byakugan gazes gleaming with clarity,
the insect-hum aura of the Aburame,
the calculation glow of Ino-Shika-Cho,
and — most strikingly —
the Uchiha.
Their eyes were no longer bitter, broken, doubtful.
They were proud.
Alive.
His.
Akira sensed something change in that moment —
the clan had accepted Konoha fully again.
If he ordered them to lay down their lives for this village,
they would do so with laughter.
That realization widened his grin.
Akira raised his chin, voice sharpening:
"I know you don't want a boring speech from me…"
Murmurs rippled.
"…so instead — I will show you strength."
Shock.
Confusion.
Curiosity.
His voice rolled like thunder:
"Strength so overwhelming,
that even if the whole world stood against us —
it is the world that would be in trouble.
Not us."
Gasps erupted.
Even Mei Terumi felt goosebumps.
The Kazekage narrowed his eyes.
The Tsuchikage clenched his cane harder.
Akira opened his eyes—
One-tomoe Sharingan.
Cheers.
Two-tomoe Sharingan.
Screams rising.
Three-tomoe Sharingan.
A wave of awe.
Then—
Mangekyō Sharingan.
The plaza exploded with applause.
People stamped their feet.
Children howled Akira's name.
But then—
The Mangekyō continued rotating.
The cheers quieted.
Something else was forming.
The tomoe folded in, spiraled outward,
circles layered upon circles,
six new tomoe igniting inside the rings—
A purple, divine eye manifested.
The crowd went silent.
The Kage froze.
A Rinnegan.
Akira lifted off the ground, cloak and hair fluttering as if obeying gravity no longer.
His voice deepened, every syllable carrying power:
"Today, I will show you the power of God."
"A power even the Uchiha never imagined."
The moment Akira's voice faded, reality bent.
A black, translucent chakra seeped outward —
not spilling,
but forming,
shaping,
becoming.
It coiled around him like ink given life.
The first structure rose —
ribs, jagged and titanic, encasing him.
Gasps rippled.
Then came the spine.
Shoulders.
A skull.
A colossal skeletal frame made of darkness towered over Konoha.
But the spectacle did not stop there.
The chakra thickened, swelling with density and hunger —
forming flesh,
tendons,
plating,
muscles,
A body grew —
vast, inhuman, overwhelming.
And finally—
A black giant, a spectral Tengu-guardian,
rose to its full height.
Thirty meters...
Sixty meters...
Ninety meters...
When its growth settled for a heartbeat,
the figure stood at one hundred and fifty meters tall,
casting a shadow that swallowed stadiums.
Screams, awe, horror — all mixed.
Even Tsunade's breath trembled.
Even Jiraiya felt the instinct to step back.
Very few in Konoha had ever witnessed Susanoo.
Even fewer understood it.
But this—
this was beyond anything they had imagined.
Itachi's eyes widened.
Shisui and Fugaku stood hollow-faced, shaken.
They knew Susanoo.
They had mastered Mangekyō.
But they had never known—
That beyond it lay Rinnegan.
That beyond it lay this.
Akira, hovering within the Head of the titan, looked down.
"No," he said quietly.
"Not enough."
A chill passed over the stadium.
Then — chakra exploded.
Not a pulse.
A tsunami.
Every ninja felt it —
their own chakra shrinking to a drop against an ocean.
The Susanoo began to expand again —
higher, broader, impossibly vast.
Wings unfurled behind it —
feathered black eruption,
so wide they darkened half the sky.
And when the villagers finally regained their senses —
they saw what stood before them:
A 2,000-meter giant.
Twice the size of Hagoromo's legendary Susanoo.
A walking calamity —
a god masquerading as a clan technique.
People stopped breathing.
The Kage warriors stared,
not as leaders,
but as ants before a storm.
All tailed beasts —
through the terrified eyes of their jinchūriki —
went silent.
Kurama himself felt insignificance.
Matatabi—fear.
Shukaku—despair.
Hashirama.
Madara.
They were nothing beside this.
Perhaps only the Sage of Six Paths could oppose him —
but even then?
Even the beasts weren't certain.
The prophecy of the Blue-Eyed Boy —
spoken long ago —
now pointed to Akira.
Even if the prophecy got the eye-color wrong,
what did color matter?
Power was truth —
and Akira was truth manifest.
Floating above his titan, Akira raised a hand.
The wings behind Susanoo stirred —
a motion that almost summoned a tornado across Konoha.
Then Akira clenched his fist.
Black flames spiraled —
condensing, twisting —
forming a bow.
Not wood.
Not chakra construct.
A bow forged from hellfire and divinity.
He spread his other hand —
pulling back an invisible string.
An arrow took shape —
jagged, radiant, death incarnate.
He aimed
— not at the village —
but at the horizon,
toward the skies above Fire Country.
And released.
Every person, Kage or civilian,
felt their heartbeat freeze.
For a fragment of time —
they genuinely believed
Konoha would cease to exist.
The air shuddered.
Then — BOOOOM.
A sound like thunder split the heavens.
People looked up —
but they saw nothing.
The arrow had gone beyond sight.
Akira's voice echoed like judgment:
"Yatagarasu's Divine Arrow."
And then —
as casually as stepping off a stage —
his Susanoo dissolved.
He floated down from the sky,
feet touching the Hokage rooftop once more.
He smiled — almost playful.
"Well, everyone," he said,
"half of the show is over."
A stunned silence spread.
"And the other half…"
He turned, eye gleaming.
"…you may enjoy tonight."
The Kage stared —
utterly unable to process what they had just witnessed.
Akira continued:
"As announced—
in three days, Konoha will host
the First World Summit."
"Every daimyō, every Kage,
every high-level envoy is invited—
and expected to attend."
"This meeting,"
Akira declared,
"will change the fate of this world."
He lifted two fingers in a casual salute.
"Well then—
Sayonara."
And he vanished.
Not through teleportation.
Not a jutsu.
Just speed.
Only Itachi, Fugaku, and Shisui knew the truth of how he moved —
and even they barely caught it.
Silence hung for a breath.
Then—
" SIXTH HOKAGE !
SIXTH HOKAGE !!
SIXTH HOKAGE !!!
SIXTH HOKAGE !!!! "
Konoha didn't cheer.
It worshiped.
This wasn't admiration —
it was madness,
the frenzy of people who had just witnessed their god.
Especially the Uchiha.
To them, this was communion.
They had known Susanoo as legend —
now they saw it in unholy perfection.
And just like that—
Akira's coronation ended.
Not as Hokage.
But as something far beyond it.
The beginning of a new age.
---