Hiruzen Sarutobi's Choice

The lights in the Hokage's office remained on well past midnight.

Hiruzen Sarutobi sat behind his desk. A document lay open before him. It was not thick, only a few pages, with the words "Candidates for Hokage Succession" printed on its cover. The ink had long dried, and its edges had become frayed from being rubbed over and over by his fingers.

The document was turned to its second page. Three names were listed vertically, each followed by a brief résumé.

Jiraiya.

Orochimaru.

Hatake Sakumo.

The Third's gaze paused on the first name—Jiraiya. His disciple, his student. Jiraiya had followed him since his teens. Hiruzen had personally taught him ninjutsu, personally raised him into one of Konoha's pillars, and watched him grow from a reckless troublemaking brat into one of the Three Sannin who struck fear throughout the shinobi world. In terms of strength, seniority, and reputation, Jiraiya ranked second in Konoha; no one dared claim first. Once he retired, the Hokage's seat needed to be passed down securely. If he handed the Hokage's hat to Jiraiya, that seat would remain within the Sarutobi line of succession. The Hokage's authority would not be torn apart by the open and covert struggles of the advisory council, Root, and the great clans.

The Third's gaze moved from Jiraiya's name to the second.

Orochimaru.

Orochimaru. His other disciple. A genius—a true genius. Hiruzen had watched Orochimaru graduate from the Ninja Academy, rise from genin to jonin, and transform from a killing machine on the battlefield into one of Konoha's legends. Orochimaru was no weaker than Jiraiya. In research, in his understanding of ninjutsu, and in political maneuvering, he was even closer to the standards of a Hokage than Jiraiya. But Orochimaru's eyes had changed. When had it begun? Perhaps the day Nawaki died. Perhaps the day he first entered that underground laboratory. A shadow had appeared in Orochimaru's eyes, one even Hiruzen could not see through.

He withdrew his hand from the desk and placed it on his knee. The office was so quiet that only his own breathing remained.

Hatake Sakumo.

Sakumo was a blade. A fine blade, a swift blade, a blade that could cut through iron like mud. Put such a blade on the battlefield, and it could cut down every enemy for you. But being Hokage was not a battlefield. It was a game of chess. The player needed to see the whole board, calculate moves three steps ahead, and sacrifice pieces at the right time to seize the initiative. Sakumo's blade was too straight...

Hiruzen Sarutobi took out his pipe, lit it with a soft puff, and drew deeply.

His other concern was that Sakumo's political foundation was too weak. The Hatake Clan had never been a major clan in Konoha's history. Sakumo had carved out the title of White Fang of the Leaf through war with nothing but a short blade. Yet he had no clan behind him, no political allies, no factional base. If such a Hokage took the seat, the first things he would face would be the constraints of the advisory council and Danzo's infiltration.

No one had ever been able to sit securely in the Hokage's chair alone. The First had the Second. The Second had Sarutobi and Shimura Clan. Hiruzen himself had Danzo, Homura Mitokado, Koharu Utatane, and others. Though these people could sometimes be more troublesome than enemies, if Sakumo sat in that chair, who would help him? Bai Ye? A chunin, and a member of the Uchiha Clan—he could not help. Kakashi? A child who had not even graduated from the Ninja Academy—much less. The Hatake Clan? Sakumo was its only pillar. He would become a lone man. Then Danzo would slowly eat away at his power, the advisory council would gradually hollow out his decisions, and the Daimyo's court would steadily tighten his purse strings. He would become a puppet Hokage with nothing but military strength.

Hiruzen Sarutobi tapped a finger against Sakumo's name.

The Half-Sleeve. On the day he gave Sakumo the Hokage Half-Sleeve, Homura Mitokado had sat across from him and said those words. Hiruzen had not refuted him afterward, because he knew Homura was speaking the truth. Heroes were good. The village needed heroes. But heroes could not be Hokage. Yet he had not given Sakumo the Half-Sleeve to push him toward the Hokage's position. The Half-Sleeve was a rope. From the moment he tied it onto Sakumo, he had known that it would bind him to the chessboard. But was it not also meant to protect him? That Half-Sleeve was also a signal. Even if this man was not one of mine, if you want to touch him, you had better think carefully first.

Hiruzen Sarutobi leaned back in his chair. Moonlight streamed through the gaps in the blinds and fell across his face, deepening the lines there. Jiraiya's refusal to return was the greatest variable in his plan. His original intention had been to pass the Hokage's position naturally to Jiraiya once he returned from the Land of Rain. Jiraiya had sufficient prestige, seniority, and ability. He was the Third's disciple, one of Konoha's Three Sannin, and the teammate of Orochimaru and Tsunade. If he took the position, Danzo would have nothing to say, the advisory council would find no fault, and the great clans would not dare object. Once Jiraiya returned, every problem would be solved.

According to his plan, Jiraiya would return and Sakumo would make a safe landing. Once Jiraiya had firmly taken the Hokage's seat, the Hokage Half-Sleeve could even make Sakumo into a blade in Jiraiya's hand. With Hiruzen supporting them from behind, Danzo's forces would be suppressed and the advisory council's power could be taken back. Then Konoha would inevitably rise to another level. But the Third had written to Jiraiya more than once. Every letter had been worded differently, but they all carried the same meaning—the village needs you. Jiraiya's replies carried the same meaning as well—the children of the Land of Rain need me too.

Hiruzen Sarutobi closed the document, lifted his pipe, and slowly took a puff. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

He did not want Sakumo to become Hokage. He never had.

But!

If Jiraiya never returned, Orochimaru never emerged, Danzo's influence continued to expand, the advisory council continued to obstruct him, and the Daimyo's court continued cutting the budget, then what cards would he still have in his hand?

Hiruzen Sarutobi's fingers tapped lightly on the desktop, but in the empty office, the sound rang out like one sigh after another.

He picked up his pen and wrote a few lines on the document.

Then he tore that sheet from the document, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into the wastebasket beneath the desk. He picked up the pen again and added a note at the end of the document—"Continue observation. No adjustments for now."

The choking smell of burning tobacco filled the room, mingling with the scent of old ash dried in the ashtray. Outside the window, the moon emerged from behind the clouds. Moonlight shone upon Hokage Rock, illuminating the three faces carved there.

Jiraiya would not return. Orochimaru would not come out. Sakumo was not suited for it. Hiruzen Sarutobi suddenly felt tired. He rose from the chair in the Hokage's office and walked to the window, thinking of Hashirama. When the First founded Konoha, he had not been thinking about how to keep the Hokage's seat secure. He had been thinking about how children would no longer need to go to war. When the Second passed the position to him, he had not been thinking about whether the Senju Clan's legacy could continue. He had been thinking that Konoha needed someone to hold it up.

What should he be considering now?

Hiruzen Sarutobi stood before the window, the moonlight turning his hair silver-white.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor. They were not the rhythm of an ANBU shift change. Someone had deliberately come at this hour, deliberately stepped heavily a few times so that he inside the room would know someone had arrived. The footsteps stopped outside the door for a moment, then came a knock.

"Third Hokage, there is new information from Sakyo. The Daimyo's court may cut Konoha's military budget for next year by ten percent."

Hiruzen Sarutobi turned and looked at the vague silhouette beyond the door. "Understood."

The footsteps receded.

Hiruzen Sarutobi rose and walked down the empty corridor, descended the staircase he had climbed countless times, and stood on the steps of the Hokage Building, looking out at Konoha's myriad lights. The lights shone brightly. Every one of them told him that this village was still running, still alive. For the sake of those lights, he had made many decisions. Some had been right. Some had been wrong. Some would only be known as right or wrong much later.

He walked down the steps and headed toward the Sarutobi Clan Grounds.