Naruto: Starting as the Third Hokage with Tears in His Eyes

Chapter 175 Waiting for you at dawn and dusk, waiting for you in the afterglow of sunset

Orochimaru slowly unfolded it on the experimental table.

Looking at the inconspicuous names and locations marked in bright red ink on the map, his breathing became rapid again.

Each of these names represents a nail called Root, deeply embedded in the heart of Kumogakure.

Now, the teacher has handed over the power to control these nails to him.

My finger gently traced across the map, eventually stopping at a location that was highlighted.

Orochimaru's eyes gleamed with an uncontrollable fanaticism.

He stuck out his tongue, gently licked his lips, and muttered to himself in a voice only he could hear.

"Eight-tails... Gyuuki..."

"I'm really looking forward to your data sample..."

All of this was like the sweetest poison, deeply tempting him.

Orochimaru began packing his belongings.

In addition to the usual kunai, shuriken, and explosive tags.

He took out a set of specially made equipment from a locked cabinet.

Rows of glass test tubes of varying sizes, each depicting a precise sealing technique.

Several scalpels made of chakra metal, as thin as cicada wings and incredibly sharp.

He also invented some special containers that can be used to collect and preserve bioactive samples.

Their movements were gentle, their expressions focused, as if they were performing a sacred ritual.

Orochimaru put all the items into a scroll and placed it close to his body.

He then stood up and walked to the office window.

Outside the window, the setting sun was slowly sinking into the distant horizon, dyeing the sky a magnificent blood red.

He gazed at the crimson expanse, his golden vertical pupils reflecting the impending, most dazzling...

Fireworks.

Everything is ready.

"..."

Orochimaru took one last look at the diagram hanging on the office wall, and a fanatical smile appeared on his lips once again.

Then, he left the laboratory without looking back.

Hiruko, inside the gate, watched his departing figure, holding her teacup, lost in thought.

He always felt that Orochimaru would become even more interesting after his return.

◆

pat.

The entryway door was gently pulled open.

"I'm back."

Hiruzen Sarutobi's voice, tinged with a weariness he himself was unaware of, echoed in the quiet porch.

Almost the instant the words were spoken, a series of hurried footsteps came from the inner room.

Welcome home.

Sarutobi Biwako appeared around the corner, still wearing an apron and holding a wiping cloth in her hand, clearly having just come from the kitchen.

Her gaze swept quickly over her husband, the worry hidden deep in her eyes rippling like the surface of a lake disturbed by the wind.

Hiruzen Sarutobi gave her a reassuring smile.

Biwako stepped forward and naturally helped him take off the clothes that had been covered in dust and had a somber air about them, carefully hanging them on the clothes rack next to him.

The feeling of home, mixed with the aroma of food wafting from the kitchen, instantly enveloped him.

Hiruzen changed into casual home clothes, walked through the main living room, and turned his gaze to the courtyard.

The soft sunlight spilled into the courtyard, casting a long, slanted shadow of the old locust tree.

Beside the pool, a small waterwheel made of bamboo and wood is being propelled by the gurgling water, creaking and turning tirelessly.

A tiny figure was squatting by the pool, intently watching the waterwheel, its little fingers occasionally reaching out to play with the splashing water.

It is Asma.

Hiruzen Sarutobi changed into wooden clogs under the eaves, the soft clatter of his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor, and walked toward his son.

"Old man!"

Almost the instant he stepped out of the French doors and windows, the small figure turned around abruptly, his big, dark eyes instantly gleaming with a brilliant light.

Asma took two short steps and charged towards her father like a small cannonball.

He grabbed Hiruzen's leg and looked up with his chubby little face.

Welcome home!

The child's voice was sweet and clear, crisp and loud.

Hiruzen Sarutobi bent down and easily picked up the little guy with one hand.

As soon as Asma entered her father's arms, she immediately clung to him like a koala, rubbing her little head against his broad chest and letting out satisfied laughter.

"Is there anything wrong with the waterwheel you made?"

Hiruzen held his son, walking slowly with him in the yard, feeling the warmth and weight of the small body in his arms.

"No!"

They walked to the edge of the pool and looked at the simple yet constantly turning waterwheel.

I made it for him myself a few days ago.

It spins tirelessly, endlessly.

"Hiruzen, Asuma, dinner's ready."

The call of Lake Biwa pulled him back to reality.

The family sat around a low table, enjoying a cozy dinner.

The grilled saury, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, exudes an enticing aroma of oil.

The miso soup, simmered with kelp and white radish, was bubbling away.

There was also a side dish of cucumber salad made with fresh cucumbers from Shuomao Farm, which looked crisp and refreshing.

There was no discussion about the war or the village at the dinner table.

Biwako gently served food to her husband and son, while Asuma enthusiastically recounted how she had discovered an ant carrying bread crumbs larger than itself in the yard that day—a truly remarkable feat.

Hiruzen Sarutobi listened quietly, occasionally responding with a word or two, the smile in his eyes never fading.

The meal was eaten slowly and warmly.

After the meal, Asma ran out into the yard and continued to observe the waterwheel.

Hiruzen Sarutobi stood up and went into the kitchen.

"I'll do it."

"No need, you must be very tired today, go and rest."

Biwako wanted to push him out of the kitchen.

Hiruzen didn't move, but simply took the foamy bowl from her hand.

Let's go together.

Biwako paused for a moment, then understood what was going on and stopped insisting.

She stood silently beside her husband, one taking care of washing and the other rinsing with clean water.

In the small kitchen, there was only the sound of running water and the crisp sound of dishes clattering together.

No one spoke.

But this silence is more moving than any words.

It is a tacit understanding that needs no words, a silent tenderness before the impending farewell.

After tidying everything up, Biwako dried her hands and silently went into the inner room.

When she came out again, she was holding two things in her hands.

One was a neatly folded Hokage robe.

The other one is a storage roll about half an arm's length long.

"Inside are some changes of clothes and knives, as well as food and dried meat to quickly replenish energy."

Her voice was very soft, as if she were afraid of disturbing the tranquility of the room.

"This is troublesome."

"When you're out there, you have to take good care of yourself."

Biwako walked up to him and unfolded the white robe with red trim.

She tiptoed slightly and gently helped him put on the clothes.

As the divine robe was draped over his body, Hiruzen Sarutobi's aura changed in an instant.

The gentleness that belonged to a husband and father was replaced by a solemn and majestic aura, like that of a mountain.

His back was ramrod straight, his chin slightly tucked in, and his eyes, which had previously held a hint of a smile, were now as deep as an ancient well, their bottom unfathomable.

It's no longer Hiruzen Sarutobi.

He was the Third Hokage of Konoha.

Asuma, who was peering curiously at her parents from the doorway, seemed to sense the completely different aura surrounding them.

He blinked, looking a little confused, his mouth slightly open.

Then, as if remembering something, Asuma ran back to her room with her short legs.

Dengdengdeng-

A moment later, she ran out again, holding something high in her little hand.

It was a bright red tomato.

They are plump, brightly colored, and gleam with an enticing sheen under the light.

Okasan gave it to him this morning, but I happened to have saved one, intending to have it as an after-dinner fruit.

"tomato!"

Asma ran to her father and tried her best to hold the tomato high.

He tilted his little face up, his eyes clear and earnest.

"It's very sweet when eaten on the road!"

sweet……

Hiruzen Sarutobi looked down at the tomato in his son's hand; its bright red color, like a burning flame, caught his eye.

It's as if you can smell the fragrance coming from the field ridges, a blend of sunshine and earth.

He slowly squatted down to be at eye level with his son.

Instead of taking the tomato, she reached out and cupped the chubby little face in her hands, placing a kiss on its forehead.

"Thank you, Asma."

Then, Hiruzen Sarutobi took the tomato, which still carried his son's warmth, and carefully held it in his palm.

He stood up and took one last look at them.

Biwako's eyes were a little red, but her face still wore a resilient yet gentle smile.

Asma touched her forehead, somewhat puzzled, but still waved her little hand vigorously at her father.

Hiruzen Sarutobi turned around, his back view resolute.

He didn't say anything more, but strode towards the entrance.

"I'm going out."

The deep voice lingered in this warm home.

Behind them, the mother and son responded in unison.

"Be careful on the road."

The door was opened and then closed.

Completely isolate the room from light and warmth.

Hiruzen Sarutobi stood in the night outside his house, the evening breeze carrying the chill of autumn, fluttering the hem of his divine robe.

Look up and gaze in the direction of the village gate.

Those deep eyes no longer held any warmth, only the iron will of the Hokage.

The war has begun.