I Didn't Become Hokage for Nothing, Did I?

At home, Shiraishi sat cross-legged in the living room, practicing breathing exercises.

Ever since he had regained a body, Shiraishi had spent most of each day cultivating his breath and refining his energy, restoring his vital essence.

However, with this body's mediocre aptitude, Shiraishi's vital essence grew slowly.

So Shiraishi resorted to extreme measures, pushing his body past its limits and squeezing out every last bit of potential and vitality to refine as much vital essence as possible. He used it to nourish his soul and heal the injuries it had suffered when he self-destructed.

The Nine Nether Sect's cultivation techniques focused on the soul, but that didn't mean they neglected the body.

The soul was the core of cultivation, while the body was the vessel that carried the soul and Dharma Power. It was the armor on the outside, the sturdy ship that crossed the sea of suffering and reached the other shore.

Thus, the Nine Nether Sect's philosophy held that the body should be tempered to become as strong as possible. Only a sufficiently powerful body could bear a powerful soul.

Shiraishi's current cultivation method simply treated this body as a temporary vessel to nourish his soul.

After completing one cycle of breathing exercises, Shiraishi slowly opened his eyes. A sickly flush colored both cheeks, unlike the healthy glow of a cultivator whose spirit and energy were at their peak.

Shiraishi knew his condition well. With his body being drained so recklessly, it would completely give out in three years at most.

But he didn't care. Three years was more than enough time to prepare a compatible body with excellent aptitude.

Shiraishi turned toward the door. His keen spiritual awareness had alerted him well in advance that someone was approaching his home.

A knock sounded. Shiraishi walked barefoot out of the living room and to the entrance, pressed down on the handle, and opened the door.

An Anbu Ninja wearing a mask stood outside.

"Lord Hokage wants to see you," the Anbu Ninja said in a cold, emotionless voice.

"Understood," Shiraishi replied calmly. He put on his shoes and left the house with the Anbu Ninja.

A few minutes later, Shiraishi arrived at the Hokage Office and saw Danzo seated behind his desk.

Danzo ordered the Anbu Ninja guarding the office to leave, then stood and walked over to Shiraishi.

"I've already spoken to Orochimaru. Starting tomorrow, you'll take part in the cloning experiments in my place, under the name of my trusted subordinate.

"Tell Orochimaru what kind of body you need. If he can do it, he'll do everything in his power to deliver."

At this, Shiraishi smiled faintly. He showed none of the excitement Danzo had expected, reacting as though he'd heard nothing more than an inconsequential bit of news.

"Good. Once the experiments are complete, that'll fulfill our deal," Shiraishi said with a smile.

Danzo studied Shiraishi's deep-set eyes, hoping to glean something from them, but found nothing.

What kind of body would Shiraishi create? And how powerful would he become once he had a suitable body?

Remembering the strange abilities Shiraishi had displayed before, Danzo couldn't help feeling wary.

"To be honest, I'm curious what kind of body you'll make for yourself," Danzo said, pretending to be curious in an attempt to pry some information out of Shiraishi.

"You'll see," Shiraishi replied calmly, revealing nothing.

"Actually, if you want an exceptional body, I can arrange for you to use a shinobi from any of the village's clans. Even the Uchiha and Hyuga are options," Danzo said deliberately as he returned to his seat.

"The Uchiha? The Hyuga? I don't like mixed-bloods," Shiraishi said. Seeing Danzo's curiosity, he deliberately let slip a hint to pique his interest.

Sure enough, Danzo became even more curious. "I meant pure-blooded Uchiha and Hyuga."

"Pure-blooded? There are no pure-blooded Uchiha or Hyuga," Shiraishi said meaningfully.

Then he turned to leave.

"Wait!" Danzo hurriedly stood and called after him.

"What did you mean by that?"

Shiraishi stopped and glanced over his shoulder, his tone teasing. "You tell me."

With that, Shiraishi opened the door and left the office, leaving Danzo standing behind his desk, gripping it so hard the veins stood out on his hands. His face had flushed red; he looked more miserable than if he'd swallowed a fly.

There are no pure-blooded Uchiha or Hyuga? Why had Shiraishi said that? What secret was hidden behind those words?

Danzo felt as though ants were crawling all over him, leaving him unbearably itchy with curiosity.

Bang!

Danzo slammed his hand down on the desk, desperate to find a way to counter Shiraishi.

Before he became Hokage, Hiruzen, that bastard, had kept him under his thumb.

And now, as Hokage, he was being held in check by Shiraishi, an enigmatic figure whose origins and methods were a mystery.

With all that, hadn't he become Hokage for nothing?

At a training ground outside the Uchiha Clan Compound, Itachi stood among the trees with several Shuriken and Kunai clasped in each hand.

Wooden targets faced in different directions, hanging from the surrounding tree trunks. Itachi had made this place specifically to practice throwing ninja tools.

Standing in an open space between several large trees, Itachi held his breath and calculated the tools' trajectories. Then he turned slightly, twisted his waist, drove his strength through his legs, and whipped his lowered right hand forward like a spring, sending the tools flying.

His left hand followed at once, hurling its tools forward with explosive force. The two volleys shot out one after the other, collided in midair, then ricocheted in different directions, striking the centers of every target.

This precise, elegant, almost artistic throwing style was the ninja-tool technique passed down through the Uchiha Clan, a perfect reflection of their pride.

The Uchiha didn't just seek to kill their enemies. They sought to kill them in the most elegant and spectacular way possible.

Tobirama, residing within Itachi, had watched the entire display. Though he was deeply hostile toward the Uchiha, he had to admit that Itachi was a true genius.

He wasn't just talented as a shinobi. After spending the past few days with him, Tobirama had realized that the boy's precocious way of thinking was another sign of his genius.

What child under the age of four would wonder about the meaning of life?

Other than a lunatic from the Uchiha Clan, no child that age would think about something like that.

"Well done, Itachi," Tobirama said in his mind.

Itachi smiled shyly but said nothing, quietly gathering up the ninja tools he had thrown.

"You've already surpassed ordinary shinobi in both your throwing technique and your precise control of Chakra. Even most Chunin can't match your skill. The only things they have over you are physical strength and Chakra reserves," Tobirama said frankly.

"I still have to keep working hard," Itachi replied modestly.

In Itachi's Consciousness Space, a smile appeared on Tobirama's face, though he didn't even realize it. His fondness for this unusual Uchiha boy had grown steadily.

If Itachi hadn't been an Uchiha, Tobirama would have already asked to take him as his student and teach him properly, given the talent and insight he had shown over the past few days.

But Itachi was an Uchiha, so Tobirama had to spend more time observing him and figuring out what kind of person the boy really was.

And what scheme did the mastermind have in mind by placing him inside this child?