Chương 49: The Fifth Hokage

A barbecue restaurant in the Hidden Leaf. Once again, Itachi found himself sitting across from the same three genin, watching them eat. The grill sizzled. The smell of charred meat hung thick in the air. He hadn't touched a thing. This bizarre genjutsu was gnawing at him. Every wasted moment here could mean disaster in the real world—or worse, he might never find a way out at all.

"Nii-san, you're not eating again?" Sasuke looked up, grease smudged at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm not hungry. Go ahead." The four of them were supposed to be close—intimately familiar, no need for introductions or forced pleasantries. Sagiri's relationship with Itachi seemed slightly more distant than the other two, but even she regarded him with unmistakable reverence. Itachi noticed the way Sagiri glanced at him when she thought he wasn't looking. Awe layered over something like adoration. He considered for a moment, then spoke.

"Sagiri. Who is your father?"

"Huh?" Sagiri's chopsticks froze midair. So did Sasuke's. Shin stopped chewing." Huh?" Sagiri's voice climbed an octave, her face scrunching in confusion.

"Makoto Uchiha... Itachi-sensei, you don't know my father?" Sasuke and Shin stared at him with identical expressions.

"..."

"... I do. Just asking." Itachi cleared his throat. Makoto Uchiha. He knew the name. One of Fugaku's most trusted allies in the real world. Everything about this genjutsu checked out—except for Sagiri herself, a girl who didn't exist in any memory he possessed. As if she'd been conjured from nothing.

"Makoto-sama is our clan head, Nii-san." Sasuke's eyes traveled over Itachi, searching for signs of illness.

"What's wrong with you?" Clan head? Itachi's composure cracked for a fraction of a second.

"I heard Fugaku-sama passed the position to Makoto-san when he became Hokage," Shin offered.

"Mm." Sagiri nodded. So that's how it works here. Itachi turned it over. It made sense—Fugaku couldn't manage the clan while running the village. And stepping down from clan head would distance the Hokage office from the appearance of Uchiha favoritism. His gaze lingered on Sagiri a beat longer than necessary. Father created her to bind Shin to the Uchiha.

In this world, she was the thread tying Shin Takami into the clan's fabric—through her, through her father, through a web of relationships that didn't exist in reality.

"Here, Shin." Sagiri picked up several slices of grilled meat with her chopsticks and deposited them neatly into Shin's bowl.

"Thanks." Shin smiled and, after a moment, returned the gesture—placing a few freshly grilled pieces into hers.

"Thank you, Shin." Sagiri beamed. Sasuke ate in silence beside them, not saying a word. Every now and then, he'd reach across the grill and drop a piece of cooked meat onto Itachi's plate.

"I told you, I'm not eating. Stop worrying about me." Sasuke's face crumpled into the most wounded look Itachi had seen in either world.

"..." If this is Father's world, Itachi thought, watching Sagiri and Shin exchange food with easy familiarity, then Sagiri exists to anchor Shin to the Uchiha. And Tsukasa Takami— He knew almost nothing about the man. Only fragments from Konoha's classified files and the few words Fugaku had let slip over the years. An exceptional shinobi. Shin's father. Someone the entire Uchiha clan seemed reluctant to mention by name—not out of contempt, but out of something harder to pin down. He and Fugaku had been comrades.

That much was clear. Comrades who'd bled together on the same battlefields. Last time I went straight to Fugaku, and the world reset. He couldn't rely on the Mangekyō to break free. He needed to find the cracks in this genjutsu from within—clues, inconsistencies, anything. In this world, Fugaku Uchiha was the Fifth Hokage. So how had he gotten there? Had it been a coup, the same as what the real Fugaku was planning? And the Third Hokage—what had become of him?

"Do any of you know what happened to the Third Hokage?" Itachi asked.

"The Third Hokage?" All three tilted their heads in unison, matching confusion on their faces.

"What do you mean, 'what happened'? Nii-san, you're a jonin—you should know more than we do." Sasuke squinted at him.

"..."

"Come to think of it," Shin said, "I heard that after Fugaku-sama took office, Lord Third mostly stayed home. You don't hear much about him anymore." At home...

"Keep eating. I need to go." Itachi stood abruptly, the motion sharp enough to jostle the table, and walked out without looking back.

"???"

"Did... Sensei just abandon us?" Sagiri ventured, her voice small.

"Itachi-nii left without..." Shin trailed off, then looked at Sasuke.

"... paying." Sasuke stared back.

"..."

"Don't look at me. I don't exactly have a ton of spending money."

"You bought a whole new set of shuriken yesterday—don't think I didn't notice. You're the Hokage's son. How are you broke?" Shin's eyes narrowed.

"... Um, I can pay." Sagiri raised her hand, reaching for her wallet. Shin's hand came down on hers— slap —pinning it to the table. He turned to Sasuke with the look of a man who'd already made up his mind.

"Sasuke. Pay the bill."

"..." The Sarutobi residence. Itachi stood before the old wooden gate, hesitating. He was trying to work out what to say—how to approach the Third Hokage, how this world's Hiruzen might differ from the one he knew. While he deliberated, the gate swung open from the inside. A middle-aged woman appeared, and her eyes widened slightly at the sight of him.

"Hello. My name is Itachi Uchiha. I'd like to see Lord... Hiruzen."

"I know who you are." The woman's expression softened.

"You're the Fifth's eldest, aren't you? Come in." She led him into the courtyard, asked him to wait, and disappeared inside. It wasn't long before she returned and waved him through. Itachi stepped into the old-fashioned house. Hiruzen Sarutobi sat in a worn recliner, sipping tea in no particular hurry.

"Itachi." He didn't rise. Just smiled—warm, unhurried.

"What brings you here?" The sight of him hit something complicated inside Itachi's chest. In the real world, some of the Third's decisions had filled him with a quiet fury he'd never been able to voice. Resentment. Bewilderment. And yet, beneath all of it—respect. Deep, stubborn respect for this old man. Itachi dropped to one knee.

"Lord Hokage."

"Itachi?" Hiruzen set down his teacup and straightened in his chair, surprise etched across his weathered face. Itachi knew the real Fugaku might be watching this from the outside. He didn't care. Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

"Lord Hokage—""Itachi." Hiruzen interrupted gently.

"Your father is the Hokage now."

"... Lord Hiruzen." A beat of silence, then the corrected title.

"Stand up." Hiruzen rose and crossed to where Itachi knelt, taking him by the arm and pulling him to his feet.

"I..." Itachi looked at the old man—kind-eyed, open-faced—and found the words catching in his throat. Hiruzen smiled at the silence. He turned, walked to the low table, and poured a second cup of tea.

"Would you like some?"

"..." Itachi sat across from him at the old man's gesture. He took the cup in both hands and brought it to his lips. The tea was warm and fragrant, the taste settling somewhere deep in his chest.

"... Why is my father the Hokage?" The question came slowly, carefully.

"Why wouldn't he be?" Hiruzen leaned back in his recliner, smiling.

"Fugaku has the ability. In every respect."

"... But we're Uchiha." Itachi's eyes dropped, his lashes casting shadows.

"Uchiha..." Hiruzen murmured the name, and something distant passed through his expression.

"It certainly wasn't easy for Fugaku to reach that seat."

"..."

"After the Fourth's death, the Nine-Tails attack pushed the Uchiha into the center of suspicion. For Fugaku to become the Fifth, the opposition he faced was... considerable."

"It was Tsukasa who made the difference."

"Tsukasa?" Itachi couldn't hide his surprise.

"Careful—your father would scold you for using his given name like that." Hiruzen's eyes crinkled with amusement. Itachi caught himself. The last time he'd said "Tsukasa" in front of this world's Fugaku, he'd been reprimanded.

"... Tsukasa-san," he amended.

"What did he do?"

"After the Fourth died, the seat couldn't stay empty. A Fifth Hokage was needed urgently, and Tsukasa was the strongest candidate." Hiruzen's voice settled into the cadence of old memory.

"Fugaku supported him fully." Father... supported someone else for the position? Itachi's mind reeled. The real Fugaku craved the Hokage seat with a hunger that bordered on obsession. The idea of him willingly stepping aside— But this was a genjutsu. Built by Fugaku himself. And Tsukasa Takami was supposed to be dead. Everything here was deliberate. Constructed.

"But Tsukasa wanted nothing to do with it," Hiruzen continued, a wry smile forming.

"He refused. Repeatedly. So the village had to reconsider its options." A pause. The old man's smile deepened.

"No one expected Tsukasa to turn around and propose Fugaku."

"..." Tsukasa Takami... what kind of man were you?

"The opposition was immediate and fierce. Every major clan, and most of the civilian-born shinobi, were against it."

"..." Of course. The Uchiha had always been the least welcome presence in the village. That much hadn't changed between worlds.

"If anyone else had made the proposal, it would've been dismissed on the spot—ignored entirely. But Tsukasa..." Hiruzen shook his head slowly.

"Tsukasa commanded enormous respect in this village. The vast majority of shinobi held him in the highest regard. When he spoke, people listened."

"Still, the opposition was formidable. The decision was tabled, and the seat stayed empty for two years. I served as Acting Hokage during that time." Hiruzen chuckled ruefully, as if the memory of shouldering that burden still ached.

"A great deal happened in those two years..." He let out a long breath.

"The first thing—was the Uchiha giving up the Military Police." Itachi's eyes went wide.

"I'm asking you—what are you thinking?" The Hokage Monument, high above Konoha. Two young men in civilian clothes—one standing, one sitting—looked out over the village as dusk bled across the horizon.

"You want me to be Hokage? That's impossible." Fugaku stood at Tsukasa's shoulder, arms crossed, exasperation plain in his voice.

"You should be the Fifth. That's what everyone wants." The sky was turning amber. Tsukasa Takami sat on the rocky ledge, his loose black hair stirring in the wind—dark strands lifting, catching the last of the light.

"Pass." He glanced sidelong at Fugaku, then looked away.

"I can't handle something like that. Fugaku. Don't you want to be Hokage?"

"... I want you to be Hokage." Fugaku's answer came low and measured. Tsukasa laughed—short, humorless.

"It's not that simple."

"What do you mean?" Fugaku frowned, studying the man beside him.

"Fugaku..." Tsukasa's gaze drifted back to the village below.

"If I become Hokage, I won't be me anymore." Fugaku went still.

"I'm not like Minato. The seat would turn me into another Third Hokage."

"..."

"Lord Third is admirable. He's earned every ounce of respect he gets, But I don't want to become that."

"..."

"Tsukasa..."

"So." Tsukasa stretched his arms overhead, then dropped backward onto the ground, hands laced behind his head, staring up at the evening sky. Clouds drifted in slow procession, their undersides lit gold and crimson.

"You be the Hokage, Fugaku. I'll back you."

"..."

"Remember our argument up here?" …

"Fugaku, the fallout from this has gotten to your head. You need to calm down."

"I am calm, Tsukasa!"

"This kind of thinking is dangerous. If you actually go through with it—""Fugaku."

"I will stop you."

"..."

"Tsukasa..."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear any of that today. Go home. Cool off."

"..." …

"You said it yourself once," Tsukasa murmured, lying on his back, eyes half-closed against the fading light.

"Konoha is a towering tree—the canopy blocks out the sky, but the trunk is rotting from within. What happened in the Land of Water opened my eyes. Your instinct was right. Your method wasn't."

"..."

"Legitimate succession can accomplish the same thing. It's not impossible." Tsukasa smiled faintly.

"Tsukasa—you realize that even after Minato took office, men like Danzō never relinquished power." Fugaku's brow was furrowed deep.

"That was Minato's temperament. He was too gentle to push back." Tsukasa turned his head.

"If you became the Fifth, would you tolerate Danzō?"

"..."

"I believe you can run this village well. You have the ability."

"..." Fugaku's jaw remained tight, and Itachi could see—even through the lens of constructed memory—that the words moved him. But the practical reality was staggering.

"I know what you're thinking." Tsukasa's voice was easy, unhurried.

"It'll be difficult. But not impossible."

"The first step is clearing the Uchiha's name in the Nine-Tails incident. I'll vouch for you personally. That shouldn't be a problem for now."

"Tsukasa... You're not afraid of how this ends?" Fugaku turned toward the village below, his expression complicated.

"After what happened last time?"

"So what?" Tsukasa's tone was light—unconcerned.

"Besides, last time wasn't your fault." Fugaku exhaled. Said nothing.

"But even if the Nine-Tails suspicion is cleared, the Uchiha becoming Hokage won't come easy." Tsukasa went on, his voice gaining an edge.

"Your reputation is terrible. If you want to change how civilians and rank-and-file shinobi see you, the first thing you have to do—is give up the Military Police."

"Absolutely not." Fugaku's reply was instant, the refusal sharp as a blade.

"Fugaku." Tsukasa turned to look at him. When he spoke, his voice was measured and deliberate.

"Understand this: those who sit in judgment over others will always be resented."

"..." Fugaku's frown deepened, but he said nothing—his silence the kind that meant the words had landed.

"This isn't something I can decide alone," he said at last.

"That's not all." Tsukasa shook his head.

"The noble clans don't care about your public reputation. For them, the Uchiha will need to sacrifice even more."

"..."

"And you'll have to step down as clan head."

"..."

"This is going to be a long process. A year, maybe two, maybe longer." Tsukasa lay still, watching the sky. The sunset clouds drifted visibly in the wind, shifting shape as they moved.

"Think about how to sell it to the clan. Trading what you have now... for a seat at the top."

"Tsukasa."

"Hm?"

"... You've changed."

"..." Tsukasa closed his eyes.

"People change. The trick is not turning into someone you'd hate." A pause.

"Danzō and Orochimaru taught me that much." Creak. Creak. The ancient recliner groaned under Hiruzen's weight, each shift punctuated by the sound of old wood protesting. The room was silent. Itachi sat motionless, both hands wrapped around his teacup. He understood now. The only difference between this world and the real one was a single variable: Tsukasa Takami was alive. And because of that, everything had changed. The Uchiha hadn't been marginalized. No forced relocation. No ghetto at the village's edge.

Fugaku had become Hokage. Makoto Uchiha had taken over as clan head. And the Itachi of this world had never been caught between the village and his family—never forced to choose. He'd grown up as a jonin, watching Sasuke and the others learn and squabble and eat too much barbecue. Father. Is this what you wanted? The creaking stopped. Hiruzen's gaze had shifted. He was watching Itachi with an expression that had gone quiet and searching.

"Son... you're not Itachi. Are you?" Itachi's body locked. Every nerve pulled taut.

"Don't be alarmed." Hiruzen smiled gently.

"..."

"Everything I just told you—those are things Itachi would already know. But your reactions tell me you're hearing it for the first time."

"..."

"At first, I thought you might be someone in disguise. But I've been told that you are, in fact, Itachi Uchiha." Someone told him— Itachi realized: Hiruzen was a former Hokage. There would be shinobi guarding him from the shadows—sensor-types among them, certainly.

"Son, what's happened to you?" Hiruzen's voice was kind.

"Lord Hokage..." Itachi's voice dropped to a murmur. He thought of the real world, and a familiar pain threaded through him. His eyes closed.

"If the Uchiha were never cleared of suspicion in the Nine-Tails attack... if my father were not the Hokage..."

"..."

"The Uchiha are being pushed to the breaking point. Marginalized. Cornered. They're on the verge of an armed revolt."

"..."

"Lord Hokage—what would you do? What should I do?" His eyes remained shut, his voice barely above a whisper. The anguish on his face was naked and unguarded—something the real Itachi would never have allowed anyone to see. A long silence. Then a sigh—low and heavy, carrying the weight of a lifetime. Hiruzen rose slowly. His hands clasped behind his back.

"In a single life, a person faces more choices than they can count."

"Some are trivial—what to eat, which road to take."

"Others determine the course of your entire existence."

"But when your choice will determine the fate of countless others... you can no longer decide based on what you want, or what you prefer. You must consider whether you can live with the consequences."

"Sometimes, compromise and sacrifice are not mistakes."

"Because you must take responsibility for the choices you make."

"..." The room fell silent again. Itachi sat frozen in place, unmoving. Hiruzen stood with his back to him, hands clasped. Itachi set down his teacup and rose to his feet. He opened his mouth— And the world fractured. The image before him splintered like shattered glass, pieces falling away into nothing. The weightless feeling seized him again, that sickening vertigo of reality coming undone.

"Itachi..."

"Itachi?" He could see Hiruzen's lips moving, could see the old man calling his name, but the voice grew fainter and fainter until it dissolved into static.

"Itachi?"

"Itachi!" His eyes opened. His room. His house. Mikoto standing over him.

"..."

"Itachi, what are you spacing out for?" A light tap on the back of his head. Mikoto frowned at him with the familiar look of maternal impatience.

"It's already morning. Are you going out or not?"

"Sasuke and Shin are probably waiting."

"Today's the day they get assigned to their teams—and you, their jonin instructor, can't even bother to be on time." Itachi stood without a word. He didn't acknowledge Mikoto. Didn't respond. He walked past her toward the door.

"Hey—Itachi! Where are you going?" Her voice trailed behind him. But he didn't go to the Academy. He walked through Konoha's streets, passing familiar shops and unfamiliar faces, until he reached a house he recognized only from old records and half-remembered mentions. He stood at the door for a long time, wrestling with something inside him, before he raised his hand and knocked.

"Who is it?" A voice from inside. A moment later, the door swung open. The young man who stood there was handsome—strikingly so. Short black hair with a slight curl to it, and narrow, upturned eyes that lent his face something almost delicate. He looked at Itachi. Blinked once.

"Itachi?"

"… Shisui."