The Daimyo

"Hiruzen! How can you sit there at a time like this? The Sixth Hokage hasn't even been in office for half a month, and she's already stirred up all this nonsense!"

"Exactly! If she wants a Jinchuriki Protection Act, fine. But what that Uchiha is doing is tearing apart the relationship between the Daimyo and the ninja village! She's breaking the foundation that has maintained order for so long!"

Konoha, the Sarutobi Compound.

Afternoon sunlight fell across the small house where the Third Hokage was spending his retirement. Unpicked fruit still hung from the old persimmon tree in the courtyard. The house was so quiet it seemed forgotten by time—until the footsteps of two uninvited guests shattered that long-missed peace.

Hiruzen Sarutobi, now in his eighties, sat beneath the veranda. Eyes closed, he listened to two voices he knew all too well rising and falling beside him, and felt a headache coming on.

When he was Hokage, those two had argued in his ear. Now that he had retired, they were still arguing in his ear.

Sometimes he suspected Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu would never grow old in spirit.

From the time they were young, the way they thought, the way they spoke, and the volume at which they argued had never changed.

"I envy you two..."

Hiruzen Sarutobi slowly opened his eyes and looked at the two deeply wrinkled faces before him. Both were so full of energy it made his head hurt.

"We're nearly old enough for the grave, and you're still this lively. My back hurts just sitting here listening to you."

"Hiruzen!"

"I'm old, not deaf! I can hear what you're saying!"

Hiruzen Sarutobi raised a hand, palm down, and gently pressed it toward the floor in a gesture for them to lower their voices.