The Old Fox in the Hokage Building and the Boy's Wager

The reception area on the first floor of the Hokage Building.

Yan stood before the counter. Across from him sat an expressionless chūnin clerk, bent over the registry of people entering and leaving.

"I want to register for an audience with Lord Hokage."

The clerk's pen paused, and he looked up.

His gaze swept over Yan—a child in worn old clothes, the cuffs frayed at the edges, the soles of his ninja sandals nearly worn through. There was no forehead protector around his neck, nor a ninja tool pouch at his waist.

"You're... an Academy student?"

"Uchiha Yan. Currently enrolled at the Academy."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No. Reason—there is an important matter I need to discuss with Lord Hokage. Please register me."

The clerk's eyes flicked toward his collar again. No red-and-white fan crest. Just an utterly ordinary child.

"Applications for the ANBU Reserve Unit require a jōnin recommendation—"

"I didn't mention ANBU," Yan cut him off. "I said it was an important matter. Please register me."

The clerk opened his mouth, but in the end, he did not make things difficult for a twelve-year-old. His pen scratched a few crooked words into the registry—even the name was written carelessly.

"Wait for notification."

Yan walked over and sat on a bench in the corridor.

The halls of the Hokage Building were three times wider than those of the Academy. Official ninja wearing forehead protectors came and went. Several gazes swept over him, lingered for a second or two, then moved on. Their expressions all said the same thing—Did this brat get lost?

Yan closed his eyes and spread his Observation Haki at low power.

Third floor. The Hokage's office.

Hiruzen Sarutobi's chakra presence was steady and dense, like an old stone buried deep underground. He was speaking with someone else.

That other presence—

Yan's heart skipped a beat.

Bold and intense, with a vibrant lingering trace of natural energy buried beneath it, and a faint smell of toad oil.

Jiraiya was in the Hokage Building.

Yan opened his eyes, resting his left hand on his knee as his index finger tapped softly once.

He had bet right.

Jiraiya had recently taken Minato as his student and was supposed to report it to the Third Hokage. Yan had calculated the two-day window and come today—not to try his luck, but because he had timed it perfectly.

One more witness on the board would give his words a different weight.

Twenty minutes later.

An ANBU in a cat mask landed silently before him.

"Lord Hokage will see you."

Faster than expected.

Yan got to his feet and followed the cat mask through the halls, up the stairs, and around a corner. The third floor was dimmer than the first, with narrower windows and portraits of past Hokage hanging on the walls.

He passed the blank spot reserved for the Fourth Hokage without slowing down.

Minato's face would hang there someday.

The door opened.

The smell of smoke rushed out.

Hiruzen Sarutobi sat behind his desk with a pipe at the corner of his mouth, a mountain of documents spread before him. The forty-eight-year-old Third Hokage had not yet gone completely gray, and the wrinkles on his face had only begun to deepen.

On the sofa by the window, a white-haired man sat with one leg crossed over the other, holding a book—

Its cover bore the silhouette of a barely clothed woman.

The instant Yan stepped inside, the little book vanished into Jiraiya's clothes at a speed that defied human ergonomics. The motion was smooth and practiced.

Jiraiya looked up, met Yan's eyes, and coughed dryly.

"Yo." He raised an eyebrow. "The black-haired brat from the hot spring district."

Yan gave a slight nod and did not expose him.

The Third Hokage's gaze traveled from Yan's head to his feet. Unhurried, measured, like an old tailor taking measurements—first assessing the quality of the fabric, then deciding what to make of it.

"Uchiha Yan." The Third Hokage's voice was perfectly gentle. "Academy student, twelve years old."

He recited every detail from the registration form without missing a word. Then he raised his head and smiled. It was a flawless smile, warm as spring, impossible to fault.

"What did you want to see me about?"

Yan stood before the desk without bowing. It was not disrespect—he had deliberately chosen the posture of "an orphan who did not quite understand etiquette but was earnest in attitude."

"Three things."

He raised one finger.

"First, there is a power inside my body that does not belong to normal chakra. The report on the Nanga River Incident should already be on your desk."

A second finger.

"Second, someone has been reaching for me. I need a position that will make those hands pull back. ANBU answers directly to the Hokage. It is the most suitable choice I can think of."

A third finger.

"Third—I want to contribute to Konoha. Not for the Uchiha, but for Konoha."

The Third Hokage's smile did not change.

But the pipe between his fingers slowly turned half a circle.

Jiraiya's posture on the sofa changed—he uncrossed his legs, planted both feet firmly on the ground, and leaned forward two inches.

The office was silent for over ten seconds. The ticking wall clock sounded especially clear.

"You said someone has been reaching for you." The Third Hokage spoke, his tone still gentle. Yet the question came straight at him. "Who?"

Yan did not say "Danzo."

He said, "Lord Hokage, last week, two adult ninja cornered me in an alley. They were not Uchiha, nor were they ordinary Konoha ninja. Their movement techniques exceeded chūnin level, and their method of concealing their presence was highly professional."

He paused for a beat.

"If Uchiha Yan had not happened to pass by, I am not sure I would still be standing here today."

Every word had been carefully calculated.

No names. No accusations. Just facts.

But the phrase "method of concealing their presence was highly professional" was enough. The Third Hokage was not stupid. How many organizations in Konoha would block a twelve-year-old child near the Uchiha compound? Not ANBU—ANBU answered directly to the Hokage. Not the Military Police Force—that was Uchiha territory.

Once the process of elimination was complete, only one answer remained.

The Third Hokage removed the pipe from his mouth.

Yan had noted this gesture before—Hiruzen Sarutobi only set down his pipe when faced with information truly worth taking seriously.

"Jiraiya." The Third Hokage suddenly turned his head. "Didn't you mention that your new student had a friend?"

Jiraiya folded his arms and looked Yan over.

"This is him. Minato talks about this brat every day. He practically wants to broadcast it across all of Konoha—'Yan is my best friend.'"

He paused.

"Old man, this kid has something in him. When we met in the hot spring district, my senjutsu senses detected the energy inside him. It doesn't belong to the chakra system. It's faint, but the foundation is unusual."

The Third Hokage looked back at Yan.

"Can you show me your power?"

Yan nodded.

He raised his right hand, palm up.

He controlled the output precisely—showing only something at the level of a kekkei genkai. A marble-sized ball of magma appeared in his palm, dark red liquid rolling slowly between his fingers. He suppressed the temperature enough that it would not scorch the air.

Yet the heat radiation still made the office temperature jump by two degrees. The corners of the documents on the desk curled slightly.

The Third Hokage stared at the magma ball, his gaze locked on it for three seconds.

"This is not Fire Release."

"No."

"Magma Release?"

"...I think so." Yan let just the right amount of uncertainty enter his voice. "I am not entirely sure myself. I had it after falling into the water. Its temperature is much higher than Fire Release, but I still cannot control it very well."

The Third Hokage rose, walked around the desk, and stopped before Yan.

The old man was nearly a head taller than Yan. Looking down at the boy from that angle allowed him to take in both the magma ball and Yan's expression at once.

Scrutiny. Calculation.

And something faint—Yan's Observation Haki caught it—not kindness, but more like the interest of an old chess player spotting a new piece on the board.

"Uchiha Yan." The Third Hokage spoke more slowly. "You say you want to contribute to Konoha. Then tell me—what is your understanding of the Will of Fire?"

Yan knew the standard answer by heart. He had watched Naruto for over a decade in his previous life; he could write a thirty-thousand-word thesis on interpretations of the Will of Fire.

But he did not recite the textbook.

"The Will of Fire—"

He withdrew the magma ball from his palm and lowered his hand.

"It means letting the old ladies who sell dango in peaceful times keep selling their dango. Letting the children chasing cats in the streets keep chasing cats tomorrow. Letting the owner of Ichiraku Ramen wake up without worrying that his shop might have been blasted flat overnight."

He looked up.

"Protecting those insignificant moments from being crushed by war, from being used as bargaining chips by ambitious people—that is my understanding of the Will of Fire."

The office fell silent.

A low whistle came from the sofa. Jiraiya had made it.

The Third Hokage looked at Yan, pipe in hand but not raised to his mouth.

Then he smiled.

Not the politician's gentle smile from before—this one carried an indescribable trace of sentiment, as though he had seen the shadow of someone from his youth in this twelve-year-old child.

"Your words remind me of someone."

He did not say who. He turned and returned behind his desk, picking up a pen.

"Under normal procedure, the ANBU Reserve Unit requires a jōnin recommendation and three months of observation."

The pen touched the paper.

"But I can grant special approval. On one condition—you must pass next month's graduation exam."

He wrote a few words and pressed the Hokage's vermilion seal onto the document.

"And once you enter ANBU, you will answer directly to me. I will personally assign your missions, and you will report only to me. There will be no intermediary channels."

Directly under the Hokage.

Not through the ANBU commander. Not through any department.

Those words carried a hundred times more weight than the paper—they meant Danzo would be unable to reach him through ANBU's internal channels.

The third layer of protection was secured.

Yan accepted the special approval order with both hands.

The words on the paper were neat and proper—"Uchiha Yan is specially approved to join the ANBU Reserve Unit. He will be formally assigned upon graduation. Under the direct jurisdiction of the Hokage. —Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi."

He folded the paper and put it into his pocket, then lowered his head in a bow.

"Thank you, Lord Hokage."

"Go." The Third Hokage put his pipe back in his mouth. "Do not disappoint me."

Yan turned toward the door.

As he passed the sofa, Jiraiya suddenly reached out and patted his shoulder. It was not hard, but even a casual pat from one of the Sannin made Yan's shoulder dip halfway down.

"Black-haired brat."

"Yes?"

"That line you said in the hot spring district—'Set right the wrongs of this world.'"

Jiraiya's tone was casual, as though they were discussing what to eat for dinner.

"Sounds pretty good."

Exactly the same words Tsunade had said that night.

Something inside Yan was gently stirred.

"Still—there is more than a river between saying something and doing it." Jiraiya withdrew his hand and leaned back against the sofa. "There is a lifetime. Do not just be good at saying pretty words."

Yan paused at the door.

"I know."

The door closed.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway gradually faded away.

Inside the office, smoke swirled through a column of afternoon light.

Jiraiya spoke first. "Old man, do you believe him?"

The Third Hokage took a draw from his pipe. The smoke he exhaled was pulled into a thin thread by the wind through the window crack.

"Not completely."

"Then why give him special approval?"

"Rather than let others force him into becoming an enemy—" The Third Hokage tapped out his pipe. "It is better to keep him where I can see him."

Jiraiya fell silent for two seconds.

"What if he cannot stand firm in the end?"

The Third Hokage did not answer.

He looked out over Konoha—the roof tiles gleaming in the sunlight, children in the distance running after a kite, white smoke rising from Ichiraku Ramen's chimney.

After a long time.

"A twelve-year-old child." The Third Hokage's voice was very soft. "When he said those things, there was not a trace of impurity in his eyes."

"So?"

"So I will wager once."

Jiraiya leaned back on the sofa and looked up at the ceiling.

"You old fox, your luck at gambling is not much better than Tsunade's."

The Third Hokage snorted and did not respond.

...Downstairs.

Yan walked out of the Hokage Building, and the noon sunlight crashed down on him head-on.

Standing on the steps, he narrowed his eyes and pinched the specially approved permit in his pocket through the fabric.

The paper felt real.

More real than Fugaku's set of ninja clothes.

Because this paper had not been given by "benefit"—he had walked in himself, stood tall, and earned it word by word.

The system panel flickered in his mind.

[Magma-Magma Fruit Evolution Progress: 22% (+2%)]

[Source Note: Social Event · Established a deep trust link with worldline key figure "Hiruzen Sarutobi"]

Only 2%.

Far less than that night with Tsunade.

"Makes sense," Yan muttered inwardly. "After all, the Third Hokage gave me not a Yang Release crystal, but a piece of paper. The system's quite the shrewd accountant."

He walked down the steps with both hands in his pockets.

In his left pocket was the Hokage's special permit. His right pocket was empty.

Three layers of protection—Fugaku, Jiraiya, and the Third Hokage.

Three parties watching him—ANBU, Root, and the Uchiha.

The space to survive in the cracks had widened by more than several times compared to his first day at the Academy.

But time waited for no one.

Twenty-nine days remained until the graduation exam.