Naruto: Starting as the Third Hokage with Tears in His Eyes

Chapter 515 Night Talk in the Tent

Hiruzen Sarutobi gestured for him to come in and sit down. "The fruit your subordinates prepared was quite good, except a few pieces were a bit sour."

Tsuchishiro gave a slight bow and stepped into the tent.

The movements were very restrained; the curtain fell almost silently behind them.

He knelt down opposite the low table and gently pushed the porcelain bowl to the center of the table.

"It is a thunder berry, a specialty of the northern region of the Cloud Kingdom."

He sat cross-legged opposite Hiruzen Sarutobi, his tone as flat as if he were reading a weather forecast. "The locals love it, it's just a bit sour."

Why didn't you say so sooner?

"Feel sorry."

Hiruzen Sarutobi gave him a meaningful look.

"..."

"..."

The latter responded with an awkward yet polite smile.

"Lord Hokage."

Tsuchishiro spoke first.

His voice was a little lower than before, as if he had switched to a different channel.

"I know it's impolite to visit at this hour."

Hiruzen Sarutobi put down the bowl and calmly looked at the thin, well-defined face opposite him.

"But you still came."

"Yes."

His single eye did not flinch, but stared straight ahead.

"Um...."

A moment later, Hiruzen Sarutobi looked down at the bowl of soup.

The white miso broth has several square pieces of fish floating on the surface, topped with chopped green onions and shredded seaweed, and steaming hot.

It looks good.

"Did you make this yourself?"

"Made by the ninja in charge of food at the camp."

Tsuchishiro answered quickly, "I just brought him along on my way."

You're quite honest.

Hiruzen Sarutobi put down his pen, leaned back slightly, and sized up the Cloud Village strategist who had "conveniently" come to deliver soup late at night.

"Mr. Tsuchishiro".

"exist."

"How many Raikages have you served under?"

Tsuchishiro's right eye narrowed slightly.

The movement was so subtle that it would have been almost unnoticed if Hiruzen Sarutobi hadn't been watching his face the whole time.

"...Two," he said, "the Third Raikage, and the current Fourth Raikage."

"Two terms."

Hiruzen Sarutobi repeated it, as if savoring the number. "So you've been a high-ranking official in Kumogakure for at least twenty years."

He bent down, picked up the bowl of soup, and gently stirred it with a spoon.

The salty and savory flavor of miso mixed with the sweetness of the fish is irresistible.

He scooped up a spoonful and put it in his mouth.

Hot, fresh, and just the right amount of salt.

"It tastes good."

"Thank you for the compliment."

The tent was silent for a few seconds.

The candle crackled and burned out a section of the wick; the flame flickered and then settled down.

Hiruzen Sarutobi slowly sipped his soup, while Tsuchishiro sat quietly with his hands on his knees, his back straight but not stiff.

This silence is not unsettling.

A veteran who has served two Raikages wouldn't be unaware of "when to speak."

He is waiting.

Let me speak first.

Or perhaps—

Wait until I don't speak.

Hiruzen Sarutobi put down the bowl and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Aren't you going to ask me what I plan to do with you?"

Tsuchishiro's expression remained unchanged.

"The Hokage's suggestion at the memorial tablet has explained everything."

That's just the framework.

Hiruzen Sarutobi chuckled. "Aren't you curious about what to fill in the framework?"

Tsuchishiro was silent for two seconds.

The light in his right eye dimmed slightly, like a thin layer of ice covering the surface of water.

"……curious."

He said.

The voice was soft, but every word carried weight.

"But what I'm more worried about isn't what to fill in the framework."

He looked into Hiruzen Sarutobi's eyes. "It's about the framework itself—how long can it hold up?"

Hiruzen Sarutobi stopped moving.

There was a moment of silence inside the tent. The sound of changing of the guard passed behind the tent in the distance, then faded away.

"You think you can't hold on?"

"I think..."

Tsuchishiro carefully considered his words. "When the Third Raikage was alive, the entire Hidden Cloud Village was united. After his death—"

He paused.

"Hatred is the cheapest form of cohesion, Hokage."

Hiruzen Sarutobi paused for a moment while holding the soup bowl.

He looked at the one-eyed old man opposite him and, for the first time, read something on that calm face—

exhausted.

It's not physical.

It's the weariness of a smart person who sees all the bad outcomes but is powerless to stop them.

Hiruzen Sarutobi suddenly felt that he was very familiar with this face.

It wasn't the kind of familiarity I'd felt when we met on the battlefield.

It's the kind of thing you see when you look in the mirror.

"So you came."

Hiruzen Sarutobi placed the bowl back on the table, his voice softening. "In the dead of night, carrying a bowl of soup. Not to probe my intentions, but to—"

He didn't finish speaking.

Something flashed across Tsuchishiro's right eye, but it was quickly suppressed.

But Hiruzen Sarutobi saw it.

"We've come to find a way out for your new Raikage."

Tsuchida did not deny it.

A silence hung between the two, like the bowl of miso soup on the table slowly losing its heat as it cooled down.

Hiruzen Sarutobi was the first to break through it.

"You are very honest."

There's no point in lying to me.

"Also very smart."

"You flatter me."

Hiruzen Sarutobi laughed.

It wasn't the polite smile Hokage gave when making diplomatic remarks, nor was it the kind smile an elder gave to a junior.

It's the kind of smile that only appears when you meet someone equally tired in a tent in a foreign land late at night.

He reached out and picked up an apple from the fruit plate—not the purple sour berry—and handed it to Todai.

"Have an apple."

Tsuchishiro looked at the apple.

He raised his hand and took it.

The two men sat facing each other eating in a military tent in a foreign land. The night wind howled outside the tent as it swept around the camp. In the distance, someone turned over, and the sound of someone talking in their sleep echoed indistinctly for a while.

The candlelight flickered twice, casting blurry shadows on the curtain wall.

"Your fourth generation..."

Hiruzen Sarutobi slowly opened his mouth.

Tsuchishiro paused for a moment as he was biting into the apple.

"He's a good kid."

Tsuchishiro paused his chewing motion for a moment.

"A bit impulsive,"

Hiruzen Sarutobi continued, his gaze falling on the pile of scrolls on the table, "He's a bit hot-tempered, always wanting to solve problems with his fists. But—"

He looked at Tsuchiya.

"There's light in your eyes."

Tsuchishiro took the apple away from his mouth.

He remained silent for a long time.

"……yes."

There was only one word. But that one word, spoken by someone known for absolute rationality, carried immense weight.

Hiruzen Sarutobi nodded in satisfaction and remained silent for three seconds.

Four seconds.

Five seconds.

"Toshiro."

"exist."

"This soup is good."

He finished the last drop of soup in the bowl, and the glaze at the bottom of the bowl reflected the faint shadow of the candle flame.

"Have your cook make another bowl tomorrow."

Tsuchishiro was slightly taken aback.

Then he stood up, straightened his clothes, and bowed.

"I will definitely do as instructed."

He paused when he reached the tent flap.

"Lord Hokage."

"Um?"

"...If you pickle those purple berries in salt for three days before eating them, they won't be sour."

Hiruzen Sarutobi paused for a moment.

Then he burst out laughing.

"understood."

The curtains fell.

The footsteps were noticeably lighter, quite different from when they came.

Hiruzen Sarutobi sat alone in his tent, with a half-finished scroll, an empty teapot, a pile of apple cores, and a few purple sour berries in front of him.

He reached out and picked up a berry, but didn't eat it; instead, he rubbed it between his fingertips.

"If you marinate it in salt for three days, it won't be sour anymore..."

He put the berries back on the plate and picked up his pen again.

The pen tip hovered above the scroll, not falling immediately.

The wind picked up again outside the tent.

This time, there was no sleep talking; the entire camp was asleep.

Only his candle was still burning.

Hiruzen Sarutobi lowered his head and began to write.