Chương 111: Out With the Old, In With the Bold

Following their return from the front, the Dongye household enjoyed a few days of rare, languid tranquility. For heroes like them, merit was a currency bought with blood; upon their homecoming, they needed only to bask in the bouquets and the thunderous applause. The village's bureaucratic machinery, however, had far more on its plate. The administration was frantic, pivoting Konoha from a war footing back to civilian normalcy. Living shinobi required meticulous merit tallies and reward assessments.

The fallen needed their names cross-referenced for death certificates and pension calculations—cold spreadsheets meant for the Daimyo's eyes to settle the war's final accounts. Beyond the ledgers, certain departments were already laying the groundwork for the most significant transition of all: the changing of the guard. Rumors had permeated every alleyway, but one had coalesced into an undeniable truth: the Third Hokage would soon abdicate.

It was an open secret that had been circulating in hushed tones long before the final banners were raised. Surprisingly, the voices of dissent—those harboring grudges against the Third for the war's mounting costs—fell silent. After all, the man was resigning. What more could they ask for? Your loved ones may have lost their lives, but he—God forbid—was losing his power. Naturally, the "Guessing Game" became the village's favorite pastime.

Minato Namikaze was the runaway favorite, though Orochimaru maintained a formidable following. The Sannin's seniority, lineage, and sheer list of accomplishments were impossible to ignore, bolstered by a legion of die-hard loyalists. Jiraiya had his supporters too, though once it was pointed out that he was Minato's master, the two camps essentially merged. Either way, the crown stayed in the family.

Even the names of Fugaku Uchiha and Hiashi Hyuga were tossed around in hushed corners, though they garnered little mainstream traction. Zhen Dongye's absolute certainty regarding Minato wasn't born of some innate prophetic gift, despite his status as a transmigrator. It was a matter of information hierarchy.

To know the outcome, one didn't need a crystal ball; one only needed to have rubbed shoulders with the elite, understood the shifting winds of the Council, and analyzed the private movements of the Great Families. The average ninja or villager had no access to such high-altitude data. They were essentially throwing darts in the dark. It was no different from stock trading in Zhen's previous life. The true "market wizards" weren't the pundits on TV; they were the ones sitting in the White House.

In Konoha, your true rank wasn't determined by whether you were a Genin or a Jonin—that was merely a measure of your lethality. Your actual status was defined by the quality of the people you talked to and the depth of the secrets you shared. On the evening of the 19th, at Yakiniku Q. With the war concluded and the mission roster not yet reset, the group found a rare window for a reunion.

The small circle around Zhen remained the usual octet: Hayate and Yugao, Tokuma Hyuga's squad, Shisui—dragged forcibly from the Uchiha compound—and Tsubaki, Hayate's classmate. As for Rocky, the "Husky of Legend"? Ever since Zhen had carved the dog's likeness into a Mud Wall to terrify the Cloud ninja, the mutt had been living the high life within the Inuzuka clan. Between the endless pampering of the younger pups and the attention of the local females, Rocky had no time for a "pathetic human dinner."

The aroma of sizzling meat filled the air as the group toasted with fruit juice—the unfortunate reality of being underage in a village of warriors.

"So, here he is," Tokuma said, grinning as he flipped a piece of short rib.

"The Great Hero himself. Finally found a moment to leave your mother's side and eat with us mere mortals?" Zhen looked at him. Tokuma was essentially a husky in a human suit; perhaps the rigid, suffocating atmosphere of the Hyuga main house had finally snapped something in his brain, leading to this flamboyant display of "freedom" whenever he was with friends.

"The village is busy, Tokuma. Not everyone has the luxury of being a layabout."

"And what exactly have you been doing, hiding in your room? Training? You're already a monster. Give the rest of us a chance to breathe."

"My foolish brother," Zhen replied dryly, "cultivation has no ceiling." Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"Fine, then share the wealth. Tell us the secret. I'd quite like to know how to fly, myself." The table went quiet. Despite the casual banter, they were all eager for a crumb of insight from the generation's greatest prodigy.

"I've told you before," Zhen said.

"It's about the refinement of Form and Nature transformation. Flight is simply an extreme application of the Wind attribute—making the chakra flow with such lightness that it negates your mass." Tokuma sighed, draining his juice in one go.

"Back to the basics, then. The problem is none of us are as freakish as you. More importantly, I don't even have a Wind affinity." That was the tragedy of the ninja world. The theoretical foundations were common knowledge, especially among the noble clans, but the bridge between knowing and doing was often an uncrossable abyss. It was the difference between a student at the Ivy League and one at a vocational school—they might read the same textbook, but only one is building rockets.

Zhen's core advantage—the supreme control granted by his body's adaptation to White Natural Energy—wasn't something he could teach. To try would be to invite a brain hemorrhage in his students. The conversation quickly shifted toward the village's favorite topic: the Fourth Hokage. After a brief discussion that steered clear of classified intel, they reached the same conclusion: Minato Namikaze. They weren't blind. Jiraiya was lingering at the front, refusing to return.

Orochimaru was a ghost, rarely seen in the light of day. Meanwhile, Minato was practically living in the Hokage Building, running errands for the Third. The answer was written on the wall. Shisui and Tokuma, being better informed than the average commoner, knew that an Uchiha or Hyuga appointment was a political impossibility. However, their consensus managed to offend someone in the adjacent booth.

"Hmph!" A heavy palm slammed against a table, followed by a flurry of motion as a girl stormed over.

"What makes you all so certain? Don't you think Lord Orochimaru is more qualified?" Zhen looked up. It was Anko Mitarashi. It figured she'd be the one losing her cool. Tokuma didn't back down.

"Use your head, Anko. It's as plain as day."

"Who are you calling brainless, you bastard?" Before things could escalate, Anko's teammates hurried over. One of them, a Hyuga named Tetsu, shoved Tokuma back into his seat.

"Pipe down, Tokuma. Don't start a scene." The other was a four-eyed boy with light-brown, frizzy hair and round glasses, bearing a passing resemblance to a certain future Kabuto Yakushi. Zhen remembered his name: Manabu Akamon.

"Apologies, everyone. Our teammate is... a bit high-strung lately. Truly sorry!" Manabu apologized profusely as he dragged the fuming Anko back to their booth. The friction was diffused as quickly as it had ignited. It was a reminder that even Orochimaru, for all his creeping darkness, was still a sensei with a squad. But just as planets near a sun are hard to spot, Minato's brilliance had effectively erased the presence of his contemporaries.

It was clear that Anko hadn't seen much of her master lately and lacked the channels to see the truth. She was still clinging to the fantasy of Lord Orochimaru ascending the throne. Zhen knew better. The very day after they returned, the "Konoha F4"—the Hokage and his three elders—had traveled to the Capital to meet the Daimyo. Zhen's father, Jiro, had been at a Jonin Council meeting since that afternoon and still wasn't home. This meant the official recommendation to the Daimyo had already been ratified.

They were now in the final phase: the Jonin vote of confidence. This stage was usually a formality—unless the candidate was so abhorrent that the Jonin corps revolted. A certain future "5. 5th" Hokage might have a word about that. The result was exactly what the village expected. On the morning of October 20th, a notice was posted on the front of the Hokage Building: Minato Namikaze would succeed as the Fourth Hokage. The ceremony was set for 11: 00 AM. The news raced through the streets like wildfire.

The administrative gears had already turned. Hiruzen Sarutobi had already given Minato his final private instructions. The ceremony wasn't for the bureaucracy; it was for the people. It was the public declaration of legitimacy. As the hour approached, every able-bodied citizen and shinobi in Konoha converged on the plaza before the Hokage Building. When the clock struck, the assembly looked up.

On the roof, witnessed by the Elders, the Clan Heads, select Jonin, and a very proud Kushina Uzumaki, Minato Namikaze stepped forward. Hiruzen Sarutobi held out the ceremonial mantle and the wide-brimmed hat that symbolized the absolute authority of the Leaf.

"I leave it in your hands, Fourth," Hiruzen said softly. Minato accepted the hat, his voice steady and clear.

"I will give my life for it, Lord Third." The crowd below fell into a deathly silence. They watched the transition of power with bated breath. Minato walked to the edge of the roof. He took off the hat, holding it before him as he looked down at the thousands of faces turned toward him.

"From this day forward, I, Minato Namikaze, officially assume the office of the Fourth Hokage. I will give everything I am for the peace and prosperity of this village. I ask for your support, your strength, and your trust. Let us build our future together!" The crowd was a powder keg, and those words were the match.

"LORD FOURTH!"

"LONG LIVE THE HOKAGE!"

"LONG LIVE THE LEAF!" In a deafening explosion of emotion, Konoha officially entered the Era of the Fourth Hokage. Standing at the front of the crowd, Kakashi—who had been dragged there by Guy—stared at his sensei. In that moment, the gloom that had shrouded his heart was chased away by the new Hokage's light and the unified roar of the village. For the first time in a long time, he felt the sun on his face. Zhen Dongye, however, wasn't looking at Minato.

He was looking at Hiruzen Sarutobi, standing in the shadow behind his successor. Konoha had a new Hokage. But what do you do with the old one? Does anyone take trade-ins for a used Hokage? Better to recycle him quickly before things get complicated.