Curse These Old Bones - SI as Hiruzen Sarutobi in Naruto

Chapter 2​

Holy shit.

The thought flared in Gabriel's—no, Hiruzen's—mind as they entered the office. Seeing Kakashi, Shikaku, and Ibiki in person was one thing—surreal, almost. And Asuma —

And then there was Asuma.

Gabriel's—Hiruzen's—breath hitched for a moment as his eyes landed on the man. The memory inheritance hadn't prepared him for the flood of emotion. Love, pride, and a gnawing ache twisted in his chest. Asuma was his son. The affection was visceral, undeniable, and far too real for a man who'd barely had time to process this second life — and knowing he would die hurt Hiruzen more than he had ever thought it would.

And just like that, there went his plan.

So much for handing the Hokage hat to Jiraiya or Kakashi, he thought bitterly. So much for ditching this mess after dumping future knowledge and blaming it on Itachi or some spy network. He couldn't do it. Not now. Not when this village, his ninjas, and Asuma were tied to him in ways he couldn't unravel. Hiruzen hadn't just left him chakra theories and a terrifying arsenal of techniques—from fire release to medical ninjutsu and intricate sealing methods. He'd also left him feelings. Deep ones. And for a hardened shinobi, the old man had carried a hell of a lot of them. He fell the love for his village, his ninjas, his four children and his only grandson…Hiruzen felt deep in his old bones that he could not abandon them.

And then Mitarashi fucking Anko entered.

Holy fuck.

Kishimoto had done her dirty in Boruto.

Her wild purple hair framed a strikingly beautiful face, her sharp cheekbones and soft lips contrasting with the fiery glint in her eyes. A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth, a playful, daring expression that almost masked the subtle tightness in her jaw and the faintest flicker of unease in her gaze. And why wouldn't she be, summoned by the local military dictator—a man fully capable of killing her without breaking a sweat? Her trench coat hung open, showcasing a flak jacket that seemed to strain against the sheer fullness of her chest, the taut fabric outlining every curve as if it were barely managing to hold everything in place. Beneath the jacket, fishnet stretched taut over her torso, showcasing the defined ridges of her abs, each muscle carved with precision from years of relentless training. Her toned thighs, strong enough to drive through opponents or pin them in a fight, flexed subtly with every step, a testament to her agility and strength. Her arms and shoulders carried the strength of a kunoichi who had survived and thrived in the harshest of conditions. Her leather skirt rode low on her hips, blurring the line between utility and provocation, while her long, athletic legs were highlighted by thigh-high boots that amplified her already commanding presence.

Get a grip, Gabriel scolded himself, forcing his gaze away from Anko and back to the task at hand. Your ninjas are watching.

Kakashi stood straight, his posture uncharacteristically formal, his single eye sharp and focused. Gabriel felt a flicker of pride—Hiruzen's pride, now his. There wasn't a soul in Konoha, save the Hokage, who could make Hatake Kakashi abandon his habitual slouch. Shikaku's usual lazy demeanor had vanished entirely. He stood with quiet focus, his sharp eyes already dissecting the room, posture alert and ready. Ibiki, as always, exuded control, but Gabriel—armed with the Professor's ingrained insight—caught the faintest hints of stress. The tightening of his jaw, the barely perceptible tension in his fingers. Even the unshakeable head of interrogation wasn't immune to the weight of whatever was coming.

Hiruzen's instincts are sharp as hell, Gabriel thought, marveling at how easily he now read their body language.

He straightened in his chair, clasping his hands together in front of him.

Hiruzen sighed quietly, the weight of his predicament settling over him. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one side, it would be safer to keep his cards close, to act cautiously, say nothing, and let no one know what he truly understood. Danzo, Tobi, Orochimaru's spies—they were all threats that loomed large, and revealing too much too soon could send ripples that would undermine everything. A patient plan might be best: recall Jiraiya, wait, and then send him with Kakashi and Gai to quietly eliminate Danzo. That approach minimized risks to himself. Lay low. Survive.

But Gabriel wasn't just Hiruzen. No matter how cautious he was, some of his own habits—different from the original Hiruzen's—would inevitably seep into his behavior. They already had. He'd caught himself toggling his gaze toward Anko for a beat too long. He'd made sure to shift his eyes to her cursed seal to misdirect the fucking genius sociopaths standing in front of him, but still, it was a risk. This was Konoha—a village where paranoia wasn't just encouraged; it was essential to survival. Every shinobi here was trained to dissect inconsistencies with the precision of an autopsy.

His own children, his advisors, and someone like Ibiki would notice if his actions didn't align perfectly with their expectations. Suspicion wouldn't just be likely—it was inevitable. And if anyone so much as suspected that he wasn't truly the Hokage? That he might be an impersonator, a threat to the village?

That wasn't just a problem. It was a death sentence.

So, he had to take the initiative—act boldly enough to avoid suspicion. Create a context where it would not be strange if he acted unlike usually. If played correctly, it might even strengthen his position in the long term.

And it began now.

Ibiki Morino prided himself on being a consummate ninja of the Leaf—a man forged from discipline, ruthlessness, and unyielding loyalty. Competence, utility, and obedience: these were the holy trinity by which he measured his worth. To be useful to Konoha was to be alive; everything else was noise, distractions for the weak. Pride, he had learned early in his career, was a soft thing, and softness invited exploitation. True strength came from the eradication of vulnerabilities. He had no illusions about his purpose—no romantic notions of heroism. Ibiki was the shadow cast by the bright ideals of the village, the blade that struck where others could not bear to look. And he embraced it without hesitation.

Ibiki had seen horrors, inflicted them, survived them. His purpose wasn't to shield others from the darkness but to wield it in Konoha's defense. As such, he rarely felt surprise anymore. Shock was for the naive; dismay was for those who clung to illusions. But when the Hokage fixed his piercing gaze on the group, turning first to Shikaku, Ibiki felt something stir—a small, cold tendril of unease.

"Jonin Commander," the Hokage began. His tone was clinical, his expression flat. But it was the choice of words that made Ibiki's blood still. He wasn't addressing Shikaku by name. That was never good. "Jonin Sarutobi, Jonin Hatake. Special Jonin Mitarashi, Special Jonin Morino". Titles implied formalities. Formalities implied seriousness. Seriousness implied severity.

Hiruzen fingers steepled beneath his chin, his gaze sweeping over them. He turned towards the Jonin Commander, "Shikaku. Protocol dictates that I inform you when there's a significant breach in security. So, you're in the loop now. Not that you did not deduce it a few seconds ago. There's a significant security breach. S-rank."

Shikaku straightened immediately, the lazy air vanishing as he fixed Hiruzen with a piercing look. This wasn't the laid-back strategist everyone knew—this was the Jonin Commander fully engaged, his mind already working through every angle. No slouched shoulders. No half-lidded eyes. Just razor-sharp focus.

He broke the silence first, his tone dry but tinged with thought. "Well, Fuck."

"S-Rank?" Anko repeated, her voice betraying her shock. Her smirk was gone. The last two breaches of that level had been the defection of her teacher, and the Uchiha massacre. The classification wasn't thrown around casually.

Ibiki clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as fury and shame churned within him. A S-rank Breach. The thought sickened him. A S-rank security breach. And he learned of it only now - he was not the one to tell the Hokage, the Hokage was the one to tell him. It meant Ibiki, Konoha's intelligence officer, had missed it. Something had happened in the village. Something dire. Someone had infiltrated his village? Compromised it. Betrayed it. And he had missed it. His jaw tightened as his blood ran cold—no, colder. Shame warred with fury. How? How had they slipped past him? Had he grown complacent? Weak? No, he told himself. Stay focused. Analytical. Think.

First, the "protocol" Hiruzen mentioned was nonsense. Everyone in the room knew they lived under a military dictatorship, where the Hokage's word carried the force of absolute authority. This wasn't about rules or procedures. So, why did he summon Shikaku? What if…what if the traitors were among Shikaku's own people? Ibiki stiffened slightly at the thought. Could the infiltrators be among the jonin under Shikaku's command? Or worse, could they be hiding among the Nara themselves? No, impossible, Ibiki thought. The Nara were pragmatic to the core. Their clan's survival and prosperity were tied to Konoha's stability, and Shikaku was a master of driving that point home to his people. Betrayal would go against everything the clan stood for. If the Nara truly had betrayed the village, it wouldn't have happened without Shikaku's knowledge—no, it would have been at his command. Were they here to deal with the Clan Head himself? Unlikely. The Hokage wouldn't have dismissed his ANBU for that, and this was one of the worst places in the entire village to launch an attack on a man who had the habit of dozing off in the grass in the middle of nowhere (even if he appeared vulnerable when he napped, a Shadow Clone in his shadow was always there, quietly keeping watch over the surroundings. But what was a Shadow Clone to do when three teams of Anbus wanted to kill a sleeping man?

"Troublesome… But thanks for putting me in the loop", said Shikaku.

The words hung in the air, but it was the implications that struck Ibiki. Informing Shikaku wasn't just a strategic decision by the Hokage—it was a calculated political maneuver by Sarutobi Hiruzen. The Hokage had ANBU at his disposal, and the absence of immediate chaos—like the Kyubi rampaging through the village—meant this breach was of a more insidious nature. Clearly, Hiruzen had handpicked Ibiki, Asuma, Kakashi, and Anko as trusted operatives to handle the situation.

Shikaku, however, was not merely Hiruzen's Jonin Commander; he was, if Ibiki dared to say, a confidant and trusted ally. Yet, more significantly, Shikaku was a clan head. And in Konoha, Clan Politics were an intricate game, as ancient and deeply rooted as the village itself, even more vicious than Ibiki himself.

Everyone knew Shikaku's loyalty to Konoha was unshakable—he would lay down his life for the village without hesitation. But that didn't change the reality of how Clans operated. Armed with early knowledge of this situation, Shikaku could position his clan to not only weather the fallout of the incoming crisis, if there was one and Hiruzen failed to prevent it, but also to come out stronger. If movements were coming—perhaps even a purge—and Shikaku was the first clan head to know, it offered him a critical advantage. He could recall his clansmen from missions, position them to best benefit from the outcome of the crisis, fortify his compound's defenses, and warn his allies to prepare.

Hiruzen turned his gaze to Anko, his expression firm yet laced with a sharp edge of cunning. "Anko, you have a specific task. Take a dozen or so prisoners on death row—traitors and infiltrators, the kind typically reserved for medical training and experimentation—and transfer them to my private cells in the underground lab beneath this tower." He handed her a signed order.

Anko's brow furrowed, but she nodded as she took the document. "Understood," she said, though her tone carried a hint of curiosity. Not that she would dare to ask.

The Hokage's lips curled into a feral smile, one that took even Ibiki by surprise. It was a rare expression for Hiruzen, and it spoke volumes about the gravity of what was to come. "Oh, and Anko," he said, voice low and sharp, "in a few days, you'll have a pleasant little surprise."

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across her face. "What kind of surprise?"

Hiruzen glanced briefly at Shikaku, a subtle gesture to ensure the Nara clan head was aware he was about to be privy to something important. Then the Hokage spoke, his tone calm but weighted with significance. "Someone has been sabotaging the Academy. Once you've transported the prisoners, Anko, you will undertake a four-to-five-day infiltration mission. The target is an Academy Instructor, a Chunin named Mizuki. He has been deliberately undermining the progress of his class—a class that includes clan heirs such as Shikaku's son, the last Uchiha, and Naruto."

Shikaku's reaction was immediate and uncharacteristically animated. "What?" he said, recoiling slightly. Shikamaru has complained more than once about the level of his classmates, but he'd always been at the bottom of his class—despite being a genius. Shikaku had assumed he was bored and exaggerating - which was not a strange thing for a Nara. So, someone had been sabotaging the future of Konoha, an entire generation of clan heirs, and was not aware ? And Ibiki was not aware.

Hiruzen's expression grew grim. "Very deliberate. I suspect Mizuki's actions are part of a larger pattern, though the full extent remains unclear. That's why, Shikaku, I would suggest you dispatch a few of your clansmen to audit the current curriculum. Not an official mission, I'm sure you understand. They can use the Transformation Jutsu to blend in as students across the five Academy sites. I'll need a report in three days detailing the extent of the sabotage. And Anko, once the report is complete, you will take care of Mizuki personally. It's worth mentioning—Mizuki has been secretly serving Orochimaru for years, and I just became aware of it."

Anko's grin sharpened, her eyes glinting with a flicker of hate.

Ibiki knew Shikaku, like himself, was scrambling to assemble the fragmented pieces of a puzzle neither of them yet understood. The Academy's sabotage was an outrage—an attack on Konoha's foundation, its future—but it wasn't an S-rank crisis. At worst, the damage would warrant a B- or A-rank response, contingent on its scope.

So what was the link between this and the Hokage's cryptic revelations? The sabotage felt like a fragment of something much larger, a glimpse of a far-reaching conspiracy. Whoever orchestrated it had influence, access, and the ability to cloak their actions from even Konoha's sharpest eyes. Why act now? And how had Hiruzen uncovered the truth if neither Ibiki nor Shikaku had caught a whisper of it? Then there was the question of the prisoners. Hiruzen's private cells, sealed for over a decade, were suddenly in use again. Ibiki's unease grew. Why did he pass this order in front of Shikaku - he could have waited.

Hiruzen's voice broke the silence, firm yet calm. "Shikaku, Anko, your tasks are clear. You are dismissed."

They saluted sharply - which was quite unusual for them - and left the room, the echo of the closing door amplifying the tension. The Hokage turned back to the remaining trio: Ibiki, Kakashi, and Asuma. His expression, hardened by years of burden, was now grim beyond anything Ibiki had seen before. This was no longer the wise, compassionate elder. This was the man who had earned the title of God of Shinobi.

"What I am about to say," Hiruzen began, his voice cold and razor-edged, "is a rank SSS-secret. If a single word of this leaves this room, it will mean not just your deaths but the collapse of Konoha itself."

Ibiki felt the weight of those words settle over him like chains. Even Kakashi, whose composure rarely cracked, stood rigid, his visible eye narrowing. Asuma's usual casual stance was gone, his shoulders tense.

Hiruzen's voice dropped, as though the truth itself was too vile to be spoken aloud. "Shimura Danzo has betrayed this village. Not once, not twice, but for years—decades."

Ibiki's chest tightened, his sharp mind latching onto every word like a blade cutting into him. The Hokage's next words were ice.

"He has been the one collaborating with Orochimaru. He facilitated the logistics for Orochimaru's experiments. He sourced human subjects—innocents, prisoners, even Konoha citizens. He violated every law of this village and every shred of decency, all under the guise of protecting Konoha. He probably is the one behind the deterioration of the Academy."

Asuma staggered back a step, his face pale. Kakashi's hands twitched at his sides, fists clenching. Ibiki forced himself to remain still, though his mind churned violently.

"ROOT," Hiruzen spat the word like venom, "was never disbanded. Despite my orders, Danzo kept it alive, nurturing his secret army in the shadows. He abducted children - from orphans to clan children. He has assassinated loyal shinobi, men and women of this village who discovered his treachery and tried to expose him."

Ibiki's breath slowed. His control was iron, but the implications rattled even his fortress-like discipline. Loyal shinobi—slaughtered by the man who was supposed to protect the village.

Hiruzen's voice grew harsher, sharper. "But the worst of it—the most unforgivable of his crimes—is his role in the Uchiha massacre."

The air seemed to leave the room. Kakashi stiffened, his visible eye widening. Asuma's lips parted, disbelief carved into his expression. Ibiki's stoicism cracked, a slight narrowing of his eyes betraying the turmoil inside.

"Yes," Hiruzen said, his tone bitter. "The Uchiha were preparing a coup. But Danzo took that truth and turned it into a weapon. He manipulated Itachi Uchiha, forging orders in my name, to slaughter his clan. He promised Itachi that his actions would save Konoha and spare his brother, Sasuke. Then, he sent Itachi into the Akatsuki as his spy, ensuring his silence."

Asuma's voice broke, trembling with disbelief and fury. "You… Father… You didn't know?"

Hiruzen turned his gaze on his son, his eyes hollow. "No, Asuma. I didn't know. Because Danzo ensured that I couldn't."

Ibiki's mind snapped to attention, his voice sharp. "How?"

The Hokage's next words froze them all. "Danzo placed me under a Genjutsu. It was unlike anything I've encountered—a technique designed to erase itself every time I began to uncover it. For years, I was blind to his actions. My decisions, my leadership—they were not truly my own."

Ibiki's thoughts raced, dissecting the enormity of what he'd just heard. The God of Shinobi, ensnared in a Genjutsu for years. Such power was unheard of. His voice was a low growl. "How could such a Genjutsu exist, Hokage-sama?"

Hiruzen's voice grew harder. "Danzo achieved this through the Mangekyo Sharingan — an evolved form of the Sharing, though you probably never heard of it. After Uchiha Shisui's death, Danzo stole one of his eyes from his cadaver and implanted them into himself. With this evolved form of the Sharingan, he was able to cast one of the most powerful Genjutsu in existence. And I just managed to dispel it."