The second day after the battle.
Inside the Hokage's office.
The air still reeked of rain-soaked, moldy wood.
And the scorched smell left behind after Orochimaru detonated the Explosive Tags.
A broken wall, propped up with a few rough lengths of old timber.
Barely held together in the corner.
It threatened to collapse at any moment.
Third Hokage Hiruzen Sarutobi leaned against the back of his broad wooden chair.
His face was covered in creases as deep as knife cuts, his complexion as ashen as plaster dust.
Yesterday's battle and fright had pushed his old bones, already halfway to the grave.
Almost.
Past their limit.
He held the mahogany pipe that had snapped in half, his fingers trembling badly.
The village's senior officials had all gathered.
The two old geezers, Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu, sat across the desk.
Yellow mud from yesterday's evacuation still clung to their faces, making them look rather ridiculous.
"Hiruzen, there's an enormous shortfall in the funds for survivor compensation and repairs."
Utatane Koharu adjusted the reading glasses on her nose, their lenses covered in greasy fingerprints.
She pointed at a stack of tea-stained reports on the desk.
Her voice was agitated.
"We still haven't heard anything about funding from the daimyo."
"We must find a way to solve this funding problem as soon as possible."
The Third Hokage ignored her.
He stared absently at the pipe on the desk, which he had bitten clean through.
The old man cleared his throat.
"Cough... cough, cough."
A thick wad of sticky phlegm caught in his throat, and he struggled to spit it into the wastebasket beside him.
Then he raised his head.
His cloudy old eyes swept every corner of the office.
Kakashi leaned against the windowsill, picking his teeth with a toothpick out of sheer