The Third Hokage had arrived.
On his left was his son, Sarutobi Shin’nosuke, dressed in full ceremonial attire that almost looked like court dress.
Although his clothing seemed unusual, it made sense when one considered his position. He was not only the captain of the Hokage Guard Platoon, but also a liaison officer who had long dealt with the daimyō.
Wearing court attire suited his status.
On Hiruzen’s right was his disciple, Jiraiya.
Jiraiya’s clothing, by contrast, was extremely plain. With his wooden sandals and face paint, the great shinobi looked almost like a clown.
Although he was part of the Third Hokage’s entourage, he kept glancing toward Orochimaru and Tsunade with concern.
His eyes seemed to say that he had a great deal he wanted to say, yet could not bring himself to say any of it.
The strangest thing was that the people following the Third Hokage were not members of his Hokage Guard Platoon.
They were several members of the Sarutobi Clan.
The Hokage Guard Platoon had been established by the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju.
The First Hokage had never needed such a thing.
From the moment it was established, the unit had essentially been the Hokage’s personal bodyguard. At the time, however, the Second Hokage’s entire guard consisted of his own disciples.
There had been nothing particularly unusual about that.
But as the identities of the guard members changed, so did the meaning attached to the position.
When the Second Hokage died, those disciples all returned alive and went on to become Hokage and village elders.
That was when the meaning of the Hokage Guard Platoon began to change.
The Third Hokage had gradually elevated the Hokage Guard Platoon into something resembling a pipeline for Konoha’s future leadership.
It was as though merely joining the Hokage Guard meant that one was destined to become part of Konoha’s upper echelon.
As a result, the Third Hokage’s guard had contained a complicated mixture of people.
His three disciples, the Sannin, had served in it.
Minato Namikaze had served in it.
Core members of the Ino–Shika–Chō alliance had served in it.
Even civilian shinobi who had risen through the ANBU had taken turns serving in it.
These people had subsequently changed positions and identities again and again.
The one constant, however, had been the captain of the Hokage Guard Platoon—Sarutobi Shin’nosuke.
Today, Hiruzen had brought none of those other people.
Everyone accompanying him, aside from Shin’nosuke, was from the Sarutobi Clan.
Sarutobi Yasukuni.
Sarutobi Saishikoku.
Sarutobi Taninaka.
Sarutobi Aoyama.
Sarutobi Tsukiji Hongan.
These were the outstanding members of the Sarutobi Clan’s younger generation.
Whether Hiruzen could no longer command the loyalty of the others, or whether he had simply stopped trusting anyone else, was impossible to say.
Looking at these rising stars of Konoha glaring at one another with undisguised hostility, Hiruzen was very satisfied.
After ruling Konoha for so many years, Hiruzen Sarutobi had witnessed the rise and fall of countless people who had once been at the height of their fame.
It had taught him one simple principle.
As long as those at the top did not cause trouble, they would remain at the top.
As long as those at the bottom did not cause trouble, they would remain at the bottom.
Therefore, it did not matter whether Konoha’s famous figures caused trouble or not.
What mattered was that the nameless masses—the background characters of Konoha—didn’t.
As long as they wanted to rise but didn’t dare to cause chaos, Konoha would remain stable.
That was why Hiruzen loved giving speeches.
He was good at giving speeches, and he was willing to share his vision for Konoha with every generation of shinobi entering and graduating from the Academy.
Although he gave essentially the same speech every year, decades of practice had refined his tone and mannerisms to the point that his words became increasingly convincing.
And Konoha had grown more stable with every passing year.
Hiruzen believed this was the success brought about by his steadily improving oratory.
His speeches could give the majority of people who made up Konoha—the civilians and ordinary shinobi—a sense of belonging.
They strengthened Konoha’s cohesion.
They awakened their willingness to sacrifice for the village.
They would enter the Konoha Shinobi Academy full of youthful enthusiasm, diligently study the theoretical knowledge required to become shinobi, and only during their final year or two learn basic survival skills such as the Three Basic Techniques.
After graduation, they would become Konoha’s prospective Genin.
Along the way, they would exhaust whatever surplus wealth their families possessed, causing much of the money they earned within Konoha to flow right back into Konoha.
After that, they would begin working tirelessly on missions.
Before long, they would have forgotten their youthful dreams of becoming Hokage.
After surviving one mission after another, they would have neither the energy nor the inclination to entertain wild ambitions.
Becoming a Chūnin would be the peak of their lives.
A Chūnin position was already enough to bring honor to their families and allow them to rise above their former station.
As for the dream of becoming Hokage they had possessed in their youth?
The passage of time would have worn it away long ago.
And even if one or two people like Orochimaru emerged during the process, it didn’t matter.
A phoenix rising from the lowest levels of society always wanted to soar into the heavens with a single spectacular cry.
But they failed to understand the rules of the lower levels.
Down there, what mattered was drive.
Whoever accomplished more was the one who rose.
At the upper levels, however, what mattered was stability.
Whoever made the fewest mistakes was the one who remained.
The process of rising from the bottom to the top was simply a process of being sifted by the waves.
Whether you were a civilian or the child of a shinobi, you had to produce results if you wanted to rise.
The only advantage a shinobi heir possessed over a civilian was a little more room to make mistakes.
But once someone reached a certain level and became one of those at the top, everything became a matter of going with the current.
The victory was simply in figuring out how to remain aboard the ship without falling overboard.
Looking at all the people preparing to challenge for the Hokage’s seat, Hiruzen smiled and greeted them one after another.
He looked like nothing more than a kindly old man approaching the twilight of his life.
Not the legendary Shinobi Professor.
"Orochimaru, don’t spend all your time hiding in underground laboratories. Look at you. Your skin has become frighteningly pale."
"Minato, how much longer until Kushina gives birth? Make sure you’re taking care of yourself."
"Shisui, you’ve worked hard. We owe you a great deal for what you accomplished on the front lines this time."
"Hiashi, I heard your wife is pregnant too. Congratulations on the coming addition to your family!"
"Hikan, where’s Fugaku? Is Mikoto feeling unwell? The Uchiha Clan is about to welcome another child. Congratulations!"
Hiruzen had something to say to everyone he encountered.
And every word was accompanied by the appropriate expression and demeanor.
The others, including the various clan heads, returned his greetings in kind.
For a moment, it created the atmosphere of one harmonious Konoha family.
The tension eased as well.
The various factions might not give one another face, but the Third Hokage was different.
His accumulated prestige was simply too great.
Everyone had to show him respect.
Hiruzen’s arrival also announced that the Gion Festival memorial ceremony for Konoha’s fallen shinobi was about to begin.
The clan heads felt that there was something different about the Third Hokage today.
Even when meeting the Kage of other hidden villages, Hiruzen had never seemed this solemn.
Something felt strange.
They simply couldn’t put their finger on what.
Hiruzen passed through the assembled crowd and arrived before the Memorial Monument.
He stared at the stone monument in silence.
Unlike previous occasions, he did not immediately begin building momentum for a speech.
Because Hiruzen remained silent, everyone else gradually fell silent as well.
The quiet murmuring and private discussions disappeared.
Then, without warning, Hiruzen Sarutobi abruptly removed his Hokage’s ceremonial cloak.
The white robe bearing the words "Third Hokage" fluttered through the air, revealing the armor beneath.
It was the armor that had accompanied the Third Hokage through countless battles.
The scars left by blades bore witness to his achievements in his younger days.
Years of use had stripped the armor of its luster, but that only gave it an austere and dignified appearance.
Before anyone could react, Hiruzen took the long sword from Shin’nosuke’s hands.
Then, completely on his own, he began to dance.
The assembled clan heads were utterly shocked.
Jifu-iri.
Naginata Hoko-chō Omichiyuki.
Wasn’t the Third Hokage going a little too far today?
Most people had no idea what Hiruzen was doing.
But as clan heads who had inherited the legends and historical knowledge of their respective families, they understood.
Once this ritual began, today’s ceremony was destined to be anything but ordinary.
Furthermore, a grand ceremony of this scale could not be completed in a mere day.
It would take ten days, perhaps even half a month.
In previous memorial ceremonies before the monument, everyone merely mourned the comrades who had sacrificed themselves for Konoha.
Then the Third Hokage would give a speech to inspire everyone.
The entire affair would be over within half a day.
But today, Hiruzen had initiated this ritual.
That meant the ceremony would not be ending anytime soon.
And such a grand spectacle was certainly not merely a ritual for mourning the dead.
This was a ceremony for offering thanks to Heaven, reporting Heaven’s blessings, petitioning the Earth, and praising the Earth’s virtues.
It was the sort of grand ceremony once held by the great shinobi clans that had dominated the Warring States Period, ceremonies performed when they stood at the peak of the shinobi world.
What was the Third Hokage planning?
Who was he trying to overpower?
While the clan heads were still bewildered by the transformation from Hiruzen’s kindly expression to this solemn, emotionally charged dance, large numbers of Sarutobi Clan members began entering the venue.
Unlike the standardized flak jackets worn by Konoha’s shinobi, the Sarutobi Clan members were dressed in elaborate formal kimono.
A group of children were led forward by Sarutobi clansmen and made to kneel before Konoha’s Memorial Monument.
Only then did everyone notice something strange.
Sarutobi Shin’nosuke, despite already being married and having children of his own, was dressed exactly like these children.
Each of them wore a golden eboshi on their heads, suikan robes, and held a shaku court baton.
They knelt before the Memorial Monument in perfect unison.
Such precision could not have been achieved without extensive practice.
And the suikan they wore was no ordinary garment.
It shared its origins with the kariginu, yet was more formal.
It was ceremonial attire associated with warriors, court nobles, and officials.
No wonder the clan heads had felt that something was strange.
A ritual that had disappeared for so many years had suddenly reappeared.
And its hidden significance was far more extraordinary than its superficial meaning.
Most shinobi lacked the historical knowledge or inherited traditions necessary to understand what they were witnessing.
They simply erupted into cheers.
Even some of the younger members of the shinobi clans joined in.
Who didn’t enjoy a grand spectacle?
And who could guarantee that they themselves would never one day end up among those commemorated by the Memorial Monument?
A ceremony of this magnitude to honor the dead meant that the Third Hokage valued those who had sacrificed themselves for Konoha.
Surely that meant the village would never mistreat them in the future.
Even if they died for Konoha, they wouldn’t have to worry.
Lord Third would take care of everything after their deaths.
That was how the ordinary majority interpreted what they were seeing.
The great clans with inherited traditions, however, looked increasingly grim.
There was nothing new under the sun.
Year after year, fresh rain fell from the same old eaves.
Those clan heads who had seen and heard more immediately searched their memories for historical events that matched the sequence of Hiruzen’s actions.
Then one of them recognized it.
"Ayakasa-boko Chigo Shasan!"
Nara Shikaku, the first among the new generation of the Ino–Shika–Chō to recognize that something was wrong, immediately turned to his elder.
"Uncle Kazushige, what is Lord Third trying to do?"
Akimiichi Kazushige, the sole surviving elder of the previous generation of the Ino–Shika–Chō, understood.
But he didn’t dare say it aloud.
"Don’t rush. Watch first."
Seeing the grim expression on the face of the elder who held the highest status among the three clans, Shikaku understood.
This was something that couldn’t be discussed publicly.
It seemed that today’s grand ceremony had one meaning for the civilians—the village’s respect for its fallen heroes.
But for the shinobi clans, it represented something entirely different.
It represented the ambitions of the Sarutobi Clan.
Before Shikaku could settle down and carefully think through the implications, an even more spectacular sight appeared.
Eight large formations of Sarutobi Clan members entered one after another.
Each formation consisted of one thousand people.
A thousand-man formation after another, all dressed uniformly in formal kimono.
This time, not only Nara Shikaku understood.
The various shinobi clans, large and small, also saw the message hidden beneath the spectacle.
Some saw the sheer strength of the Sarutobi Clan.
Others noticed something else.
The Sarutobi couldn’t even afford standardized shinobi uniforms for their entire clan, yet they could somehow afford to dress every member of the clan in brand-new formal kimono.
But the Ino–Shika–Chō clans had the ugliest expressions of all.
Back then, the Sarutobi Clan had desperately tried to establish ties and cultivate relationships with the Akimichi, Nara, and Yamanaka clans.
At the time, the Sarutobi were merely a minor clan whose strength didn’t even match that of any one of the three.
Yet only a few decades had passed.
And now, even the three clans combined couldn’t put together a single thousand-man formation comparable to one of the Sarutobi’s.
The Shinobi Professor, Hiruzen Sarutobi, certainly lived up to his name.
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