The walls were freshly painted white. In the small, narrow room, there was only a wooden bed and a simple table with chairs. Cold light shone down from above, and Hiruzen Sarutobi was hunched over the desk, practicing calligraphy. The living conditions here weren't great, but as a former Hokage, his treatment wasn't too bad.
As long as his requests weren't excessive, the guards usually granted them.
This was a small favor from Torifu Akimichi to his old friend. After all, they had been classmates once.
Hiruzen Sarutobi exhaled softly, holding up the character he had just written. He examined it closely under the light—bold strokes forming the character for "忍" (ninja)—and nodded with satisfaction. "Not bad! My skills haven't deteriorated," he thought, considering whether to hang the piece on the wall.
Just as he was deciding where to place it, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway outside.
The visitor caught Hiruzen Sarutobi by surprise.
Standing at the door was his younger son, Asuma Sarutobi.
Hiruzen stared at his son, momentarily stunned. He hadn't expected to see this rebellious, headstrong son of his here. Asuma looked taller than when he had left the village. His beard had grown into a full scruff, and there was a sash at his waist, symbolizing his membership in the Twelve Guardian Ninja. It seemed that life outside the village had treated him well.
"Father... how did things end up ?"
Asuma stood outside the door, gripping the railing, his heart heavy as he looked at his father, who now wore a simple gray robe, his hair white and his face lined with wrinkles, looking more like an old farmer than the proud Hokage he once was. The resentment and misunderstandings Asuma once held began to melt away, replaced by a deep concern.
"It's not something you need to know," Hiruzen said, shaking his head. "I just... lost, that's all."
He didn't want his youngest son to get involved in these matters.
In the past, Asuma would have immediately argued or gotten angry at such a dismissive answer. But today, after a brief silence, he didn't respond with his usual temper. Instead, he glanced at the guards at the end of the hallway and asked, "How are you living here?"
Seeing his son display restraint and patience, Hiruzen felt slightly more at ease. "It's alright. I'm fed and have what I need to write. Although the space is a bit small, I manage. But, Asuma, why have you come here?"
"I returned because of a letter from Cousin Zōemon."
"Zōemon?" Hiruzen frowned at the mention of his unremarkable nephew.
He had been removed from power too quickly to arrange family matters properly. His nephew wasn't the kind of person who could handle big responsibilities. A new clan leader would need to be chosen soon, or the clan would struggle to survive the coming turmoil.
"The clan? Well... it seems like the village is preparing for a war with the Hidden Mist. Cousin Zōemon complained to me that over 200 of our clansmen were conscripted."
"Over 200?" Hiruzen's frown deepened.
"Akimichi Torifu... damn it!"
His mood darkened instantly. This was undeniably bad news. He knew that with his downfall, the Sarutobi clan would face suppression, but he hadn't expected Torifu to act so quickly and harshly.
Distant explosions rumbled, causing the ground to shake slightly. The ceiling light swayed, and small bits of dust and debris fell from above.
Asuma instinctively reached for his weapon pouch, only to find it empty. He remembered that before entering this secret prison, he had been forced to surrender all his weapons—his chakra blades, his kunai—everything was left at the entrance. He was now completely unarmed.
"Asuma Sarutobi, don't move!"
The warning came from a member of the Aburame clan standing at the end of the hallway. And he wasn't alone—two more guards appeared beside him. One had pure white eyes, and another bore the fan symbol of the Uchiha clan. The sight of them made Asuma freeze.
"To avoid any misunderstandings, stay where you are until the alarm is lifted, and please refrain from any suspicious actions," the Hyūga clan guard warned.
Asuma glanced at the tense guards and then seemed to realize something. "You don't think the explosion has anything to do with me, do you?"
"Enough talk! Whether it's related or not, someone will investigate. If it has nothing to do with you, just stay put. If it does... don't even think about escaping!" The Uchiha guard's cold voice dripped with hostility, his attitude infuriating Asuma, whose face darkened with anger.
Never in his life had anyone spoken to him .
Having a father who was the Hokage meant very few people in the village dared to show him disrespect. Even when his father reprimanded him, he had the nerve to leave the village in defiance.
"Don't act rashly, Asuma!" Hiruzen quickly grabbed his son's arm, knowing this was not the time for impulsiveness. If Asuma caused trouble here, it wouldn't end well. Though being imprisoned was lonely, Hiruzen didn't want his son joining him in confinement. Fresh chapters posted on novel⸺fire.net
Asuma gritted his teeth and relaxed his fist.
Seeing this, the Uchiha guard clicked his tongue in disappointment, muttering insults like "coward" and "weakling" loud enough for the whole corridor to hear. The taunts made Asuma's veins bulge in anger, and he bit his lip so hard that blood trickled down his chin.
"By the way, wasn't that explosion near where Danzo is being held?" the Hyūga guard asked, interrupting his companion's taunts as he activated his Byakugan, curious about what was happening.
"Yes, it did come from that direction."
The Uchiha guard, abandoning his trash talk, looked in the direction of the explosion with interest.
"Could someone be trying to rescue Danzo?"
"Maybe it's some remnants of Root?"
"No way! I thought Root had been wiped out? The village practically united to eliminate them. If there are still members of Root left, that would be a miracle!"
"If it's not Root, who else would be trying to save Danzo?"
"Hmm... you've got a point!"
The Uchiha and Hyūga guards continued their heated discussion, while the Aburame guard stood silently to the side, listening but not participating, as was typical of his clan.