The Shadow of the Leaf

Blood.

It was the first thing that hit me. The sticky, coppery warmth of it on my hands, my face, the armor strapped tightly to my chest. My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out the distant clash of steel on steel. I stumbled, trying to catch my breath, and that's when I noticed it: the body at my feet.

He was one of ours—or at least, one of Konoha's. A Chūnin, maybe eighteen or nineteen, his face pale and slack, his uniform shredded from kunai strikes. His eyes stared at me, lifeless and accusing. I tried to look away, but my body felt... wrong. My hands, scarred and calloused, weren't mine. My body, lean and muscled, wasn't mine.

My mind screamed a thousand questions at once.

"Focus, Hiruzen!"

The voice jolted me upright. I turned, instincts I didn't recognize pushing me into a defensive stance. The man standing before me was unmistakable, even caked in sweat and grime. His white hair was tied back, his battle armor scorched and bloodied, but his eyes burned with authority.

Second Hokage. Tobirama Senju.

My stomach dropped. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't some fanfiction I'd fallen asleep to. I wasn't just in the Naruto world. I was Hiruzen Sarutobi—and I was here, at the moment Tobirama sacrificed himself for the team.

A part of me froze, as if I were watching it happen on TV again. This was the turning point. Tobirama would stay behind to hold off the Kinkaku Force. He would die, naming me—the real Hiruzen Sarutobi—the Third Hokage. The moment that led to decades of war, political corruption, and the tragedies that shaped the Naruto timeline.

"Stay sharp, Hiruzen! Get ready to move!" Tobirama barked again.

The weight of his words snapped me out of my daze. I glanced around, taking in my surroundings. The battlefield was a mess—bodies littered the ground, weapons gleamed in the dirt, and the air reeked of blood and burnt flesh. Beside me, Danzo Shimura clutched a kunai in his trembling hands, his sharp eyes darting nervously toward the treeline. Koharu and Homura huddled together, their breaths ragged, while Torifu Akimichi steadied himself, his face pale but determined.

This was it. The Kinkaku Force, the legendary unit of rogue Cloud shinobi, was closing in. We were outnumbered and outmatched, and Tobirama—wounded but unbroken—was about to make his choice. The same choice he made in the original timeline.

"No," I muttered, the word slipping out before I could stop it.

Tobirama's gaze snapped to me, sharp and questioning. "What did you say?"

I swallowed hard. My heart thundered in my chest. Every part of me screamed to let the timeline play out as it had in canon. If I deviated from this moment, who knew what consequences would follow? But I couldn't just stand by and let him die. I had knowledge—knowledge that could change everything.

"I said no," I repeated, louder this time. I straightened, meeting Tobirama's eyes with a steadiness I didn't feel. "You don't have to do this, sensei. We can fight together. We can all make it out alive."

Danzo scoffed, his grip on his kunai tightening. "You're insane, Hiruzen! Sensei's the only one who can hold them off long enough for us to escape!"

"And what happens after that, Danzo?" I shot back, my voice sharp. "Do you think we'll survive without him? Do you think Konoha will?"

Danzo glared at me, his lips curling in disdain, but he didn't respond.

Tobirama's expression darkened. "This isn't a debate, Hiruzen. My decision is final."

"With all due respect, sensei," I said, stepping forward, "it's a bad decision. You taught us that the Hokage's duty is to protect the village above all else. Well, the village needs you alive. If you die here, Konoha will lose its greatest leader. We'll lose our foundation. And for what? A delaying tactic?"

Tobirama's eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, the only sound was the distant clang of steel and the rustling of the wind through the trees.

"You have a plan, then?" he asked finally, his voice low and measured.

I exhaled slowly. "Yes."

It wasn't a lie. Not entirely. I didn't have a fully-formed plan, but I had knowledge. I knew the capabilities of the Kinkaku Force. I knew their tactics, their weaknesses. And I knew that with Tobirama by our side, we stood a chance.

"Alright," Tobirama said, his tone reluctant but firm. "But if this plan of yours fails, the blood of this team will be on your hands, Hiruzen."

I nodded. "Understood."

What followed was the bloodiest fight of my life.

The Kinkaku Force emerged from the treeline like a pack of wolves, their leader—a hulking brute of a man with wild blond hair—grinning savagely as he surveyed his prey. I recognized him instantly: Kinkaku, one of the two brothers who had devoured the flesh of the Nine-Tails and gained a fragment of its power. His chakra burned like a furnace, oppressive and suffocating.

Tobirama took point, his hands flashing through seals faster than my eyes could follow. A wall of water erupted from the ground, slamming into the oncoming enemy shinobi and forcing them to scatter. But they weren't just any shinobi—they were elites, and they adapted quickly.

"Spread out!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the chaos. "Stay mobile and keep your distance! Don't let them surround you!"

Danzo and the others hesitated for a fraction of a second before obeying. I didn't blame them; I wasn't exactly known for barking orders. But they didn't know the me I had become.

As the battle raged on, I focused on keeping my team alive. I used every scrap of knowledge I had, every memory of jutsu and tactics from the anime, to outmaneuver the Kinkaku Force. Tobirama was a whirlwind of destruction, his water and shadow jutsu carving through the enemy ranks with brutal efficiency. But even he couldn't hold them off forever.

It was brutal. Blood sprayed with every clash of kunai and every blast of jutsu. Torifu was knocked unconscious by a crushing blow, and Koharu barely dodged a lightning-infused blade that left the air sizzling. I found myself in close combat with a kunoichi wielding twin tanto, her strikes swift and precise.

My body moved on instinct, blending the taijutsu I'd inherited from Hiruzen with techniques I'd learned in my past life. I parried her strikes with a kunai, ducked under her guard, and drove my elbow into her ribs with enough force to crack bone. She collapsed, gasping for air, and I finished her with a kunai to the throat.

By the time the dust settled, we were alive—but just barely. The Kinkaku Force was decimated, though not entirely destroyed, and Tobirama was alive, though gravely injured.

For the first time since I'd arrived in this world, I felt something close to hope.

Saving Tobirama wasn't just a victory; it was the beginning of something new. I had already deviated from the timeline, and there was no going back.

As we limped away from the battlefield, Tobirama glanced at me, his expression unreadable.

"You did well, Hiruzen," he said finally. "But this changes everything."

I nodded, my mind racing with possibilities. "I know."

And I was ready.

We staggered through the forest, our steps uneven and heavy. The scent of blood and ash clung to us, and every sound—every rustle of leaves, every distant crack of a branch—put my nerves on edge. Tobirama led the way, though his movements were slower now, each step deliberate. His injuries were worse than he let on, but his pride wouldn't allow him to lean on anyone.

Danzo walked just behind him, silent but watchful, his kunai still gripped tightly in his bloodied hand. Homura and Koharu followed closely, their faces pale but determined. Torifu was slung over my shoulder, his unconscious form heavier than I expected. My muscles screamed in protest, but I didn't let it show.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows through the trees. As the light faded, so did the adrenaline that had kept me upright. I stumbled, catching myself against a tree.

"Hiruzen." Tobirama's voice cut through the stillness, sharp and commanding. "We'll rest here."

I nodded, setting Torifu down gently against the trunk of a nearby tree. Koharu immediately crouched beside him, her hands glowing with faint green chakra as she worked to stabilize his condition.

"We shouldn't stop," Danzo said, his tone clipped. "The Kinkaku Force might regroup. If they track us—"

"They won't," Tobirama interrupted, his voice firm. "I made sure of that. But if you'd like to keep walking and collapse halfway to Konoha, feel free."

Danzo scowled but said nothing.

I sat down against the base of another tree, my mind racing. Saving Tobirama had been the right call, but it was only the first step. I'd thrown a stone into the river of time, and the ripples were already spreading. The question was, how far would they reach?

I glanced at Tobirama. He was leaning against a boulder, his arms crossed, but his breathing was labored. He was trying to hide it, but I could see the tension in his posture, the way his fingers twitched ever so slightly.

"You're hurt worse than you're letting on," I said.

He shot me a sharp look. "I'm fine."

"With all due respect, sensei," I said, keeping my tone calm but firm, "that's bullshit. You need medical attention."

Tobirama's eyes narrowed, but after a moment, he sighed. "Perhaps. But we don't have time for that."

"Then we make time," I said. "You're the Second Hokage. Konoha needs you alive and functional, not limping back to the village half-dead."

Danzo scoffed. "And what do you propose, Hiruzen? You're not a medic-nin."

"No," I said, "but Koharu is. And with the right supplies, she can patch him up enough to get him back to the village in one piece."

Koharu looked up from where she was working on Torifu, her expression uncertain. "I… I can try, but I'll need some herbs. And water. Clean water."

"Good," I said, standing. My legs protested, but I ignored them. "Homura and I will handle that. Danzo, you stay here and keep watch. If anyone tries to follow us, take them out quietly."

Danzo frowned. "And who put you in charge?"

"I did," Tobirama said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Now shut up and do as you're told."

Danzo's jaw tightened, but he nodded reluctantly.

As Homura and I searched the nearby forest for the supplies Koharu needed, I found myself thinking about the bigger picture. The original timeline had hinged on Tobirama's death. His students—my teammates—would have been shaped by that loss. Danzo's paranoia and hunger for power would have deepened. Koharu and Homura would have clung to the ideals of their fallen sensei, becoming the rigid advisors that guided me—and later Minato and Hiruzen's successor—down darker paths.

Now, everything was different.

Tobirama wasn't dead. The team hadn't been shattered by loss. And I had the knowledge of an entire series—decades of history and mistakes—to guide me.

But that knowledge came with weight. I didn't just know the future—I knew the price of failure. If I misstepped, if I let things spiral out of control, I could make things worse than they had been in the original timeline.

"Over here!" Homura's voice jolted me from my thoughts. He was crouched near a cluster of plants, carefully plucking leaves from a low shrub.

I moved to join him, keeping my senses sharp for any signs of danger.

"You're… different," Homura said after a moment, not looking up from his task.

I tensed. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, still focused on the herbs. "I don't know. You've always been the strongest of us, but today… you were decisive. Commanding. You saved us, and sensei. It's like you've changed."

I forced a chuckle, trying to play it off. "Maybe the pressure finally got to me."

Homura glanced at me, his brow furrowed. "Maybe."

I turned away, hoping he wouldn't push the issue.

We returned to the makeshift camp with the supplies Koharu needed. As she worked to treat Tobirama's wounds, I sat apart from the group, staring into the distance. The weight of my new reality pressed down on me. I wasn't just responsible for my own survival—I was responsible for the future of the entire village.

I thought about Konoha. About Danzo. About the Uchiha.

In the original timeline, I'd let Danzo operate unchecked, his ambition and paranoia festering until it tore the village apart. The Uchiha had been pushed to the brink, their resentment culminating in a massacre that haunted the Leaf for decades. The Fourth Great Ninja War had been a product of countless mistakes, each one compounding the next.

I wouldn't let that happen again.

But changing the future wouldn't be easy. Danzo wasn't someone I could simply eliminate—not without destabilizing the entire village. I needed to control him, to channel his ambition in ways that benefited Konoha rather than tearing it apart.

And the Uchiha… they would be a challenge of their own. I couldn't just erase centuries of mistrust between them and the village leadership. But with Tobirama alive, perhaps there was a way to bridge the gap.

One step at a time, I told myself. For now, we had to get back to Konoha.

By the time the moon rose high in the sky, Tobirama's condition had stabilized. Koharu had done what she could, and while he was still in pain, he could at least stand without assistance.

"You've done well, Koharu," Tobirama said, his voice low but steady.

She flushed, ducking her head. "Thank you, sensei."

Tobirama's gaze shifted to me. "And you, Hiruzen. You've surprised me today."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

He nodded. "You showed leadership under pressure. Decisiveness. Courage. Those are qualities of a Hokage."

I stiffened, his words hitting harder than I expected. I'd known this was coming, but hearing it still sent a chill down my spine.

"Hokage, huh?" I said, forcing a smile. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, sensei. You're not retiring anytime soon."

Tobirama chuckled, though the sound was strained. "Perhaps not. But one day, the responsibility will fall to you. And when it does, I expect you to rise to the occasion."

I nodded, my smile fading. "I'll do my best."

That night, as the others slept, I sat alone beneath the stars. My thoughts swirled with plans and possibilities, each one more daunting than the last.

I had changed the timeline. The ripples were already spreading. And as much as the weight of it scared me, I knew one thing for certain: I wouldn't let this world fall apart. Not again.