Curse These Old Bones - SI as Hiruzen Sarutobi in Naruto

Chapter 4​

Under the Hokage Tower, Konoha

The scroll flared to life, its markings glowing as chakra filled the air, pulsing like a living force. Yugao's eyes narrowed, her trained instincts compelling her to react, her hand twitching toward her katana. But she stopped herself. She trusted the Hokage implicitly. If this was his will, she would see it through.

Ash swirled upward, forming patterns too intricate to be random, wrapping around the lifeless body like a second skin. The transformation was unnerving, and Yugao's mind raced through possibilities. She had heard of techniques to reanimate the dead but had never seen one firsthand. As the ash solidified, it gave way to flesh, fabric, and something altogether unsettling.

Before them stood a woman. Shoulder-length light brown hair framed her face, partially covered by a white coif. Her eyes glinted behind a pair of glasses, their striking clarity at odds with the pitch-black sclera that made her gaze difficult to meet. Pale and black cracks marred her face like jagged scars. She wore a black, loose-fitting gown under a white apron, the ensemble oddly subdued given the circumstances.

The woman gasped, her chest rising sharply as though her lungs were drawing breath for the first time in decades. Panic flickered across her features—her hands trembling briefly—but then, as though a switch had been flipped, she steadied herself. Yugao recognized the discipline immediately. This woman had been trained to survive the worst.

"Name and affiliation," Hiruzen's voice cut through the silence, steady and authoritative.

The woman blinked, adjusting her glasses with a hand that no longer trembled. Her voice was calm, deliberate. "Nonō Yakushi. Ex-member of ANBU from Konohagakure's Root division. I left the organization and became a jōnin in the regular forces, a captain of the Medic Corps. My primary specializations are intelligence gathering and medical expertise."

Yugao studied her closely, noting the precision of her words and the way she carried herself. The way she had reined in her initial shock and fallen back into discipline spoke volumes.

Hiruzen inclined his head slightly, his eyes sharp as he regarded Nonō. "Good. You recognize me. Let's be certain, though—there is a seal on your soul now, that can be activated with juts one thought. I'm sure you can feel it."

Nonō's jaw tightened for a moment before she nodded. "Yes, Hokage-sama."

"There was a major security breach," Hiruzen continued, his tone hardening slightly. "The village needs your services again, I'm afraid."

Nonō bowed her head, her movements crisp and without hesitation. "I hear and obey, Hokage-sama."

Yugao's gaze flickered toward Hiruzen as he pressed forward, his questions precise and unyielding. "How confident are you in your medical abilities?"

Nonō straightened, her emerald eyes meeting his directly despite the black void of her sclera. "I was among the best in my field during my life, Hokage-sama."

"Perfect," Hiruzen said, his expression shifting to something almost amused, though Yugao could see the tension behind his sharp gaze. "First, I need you to complete a full medical examination. On me."

Nonō's eyes widened briefly before she nodded again. "Understood."

"And then, I will teach you about biology."

Sarutobi Compound Konoha

The Sarutobi Compound was as traditional as Konoha itself—a network of wooden structures bordered by immaculately trimmed gardens. Stone paths cut through the greenery, illuminated by warm lantern light, giving the place an air of quiet dignity. To Taro Sarutobi, it felt like stepping into a history book, one he wasn't particularly interested in reading.

He wandered down the cobbled pathway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his flamboyant red jacket. The lantern-lit grounds were a stark contrast to his own chaotic lifestyle. Flowers neatly lined the walkways, their scent mingling with the faint, clean aroma of polished wood and pine. It was serene, dignified. In other words, completely at odds with him.

He stopped at the main house, squinting at the light spilling through the windows. His siblings' voices carried on the evening air. Taro smirked. Time to make his grand entrance.

Pushing the door open with his shoulder, he leaned casually against the frame. "Well, well, look at this elite gathering. Did someone die, or is Dad finally giving out his inheritance?"

Inside, three pairs of eyes turned toward him.

Hiroto Sarutobi, the eldest, was seated at the head of the low dining table. His black hair was tied back neatly, and his sharp features were framed by the perpetual shadow of his goatee. He had an air of authority that could silence a room without him uttering a word. The ANBU Commander's piercing gaze locked onto Taro with the precision of a kunai. "You're late," he said curtly.

Taro shrugged, sauntering in. "Fashionably late, big bro. Don't act like you weren't expecting it."

"You could at least try to show some respect for Father's summons," Hiroto replied, his tone hard as steel. He gestured toward the seat at the far end of the table. "Sit. And don't embarrass yourself. Or us."

Taro rolled his eyes but plopped down onto the cushion. "Don't worry, Commander. I'll keep the embarrassment to a minimum."

To Hiroto's right sat Kanna Sarutobi, the family's second-born and Konoha Hospital's head doctor. Her short, jet-black hair was neatly styled, and her white coat—despite this being a family dinner—was spotless. She had a no-nonsense air about her, her sharp green eyes flicking over Taro like she was diagnosing a particularly frustrating patient.

"You reek of alcohol," she said, wrinkling her nose. "And what are you even wearing? You look like you lost a bet."

"Aw, thanks, sis," Taro said, shooting her a wink. "Always nice to know you care."

"I don't," Kanna shot back, sipping her tea. "But I have to look at you, and it's painful."

Asuma chuckled from his spot at the opposite end of the table. "Don't mind her, Taro. She just missed you."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Taro said, leaning back on his elbows. "Thanks for having my back, little bro."

Asuma was the youngest of the four, with a rugged, laid-back charm that seemed perpetually at odds with his chain-smoking habit. His goatee and messy hair gave him a roguish look, and his relaxed posture contrasted sharply with Hiroto's rigidity. If Taro had an ally in this family, it was Asuma. The only one who considered a chakra-less Sarutobi as a family member.

Hiroto cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the lighthearted banter like a blade. "Enough. We need to discuss why we're here."

Taro leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. "Great question. What's the deal, Asuma? Did Dad finally remember he has kids?"

Asuma flicked the ash off his cigarette, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. "He has his reasons. That's all I can say."

Kanna frowned. "Reasons? What kind of reasons?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Asuma replied, his tone suddenly serious. "Just… don't let it throw you if he acts a bit differently than usual…"

Hiroto's sharp eyes narrowed. "Throw us? Asuma, what are you talking about?"

He had heard about Hiruzen summoning Ibiki Morino, Shikaku Nara, and Hatake Kakashi earlier that afternoon. All three in the same room? That could only mean something serious was happening. And, apparently, his little brother had been privy to it. However, before Asuma could respond, the door to the room slid open.

Sarutobi Hiruzen stepped in; His presence filled the room, commanding attention even before he spoke. But what truly froze everyone in place were the takeout bags he held in his hands, the bold logo of Ichiraku Ramen visible on the side.

"Good evening, kids," Hiruzen said, his voice warm and cheerful. He set the bags on the table with a flourish. "I trust you're all hungry. I've brought dinner."

Silence stretched as the siblings stared at him, disbelief etched on their faces. The Hokage—commander of Konoha, their father—serving takeout ramen? Calling them kids? It was unthinkable.

Hiruzen began unpacking the food with surprising enthusiasm. "I hear this ramen is the best in the village. I've been meaning to try it for years. What better occasion than a family dinner?"

Taro blinked, then broke the silence with a chuckle. "Okay, Asuma wasn't kidding. You're acting… different."

"Taro!" Kanna snapped, her sharp tone slicing through the air. "Show some respect!"

Hiruzen sighed heavily as he sat down at the head of the table, setting his Hokage hat aside. The small gesture made him seem strangely human, stripped of the weighty office he carried. He raised a hand toward Kanna to forestall further reprimands. "No, let him speak. He's right." His voice softened, carrying an edge of raw honesty that none of them were prepared for. "I've been a terrible father the last few years."

Silence. Dead silence.

Taro, for once in his life, had no ready quip. The words hung in the air, so blunt and unexpected that even his penchant for deflection was stunned into stillness. Then, as if his mouth had moved on its own, he said, "For the last decades, you mean. The last three decades. I'm twenty-seven years old. Or maybe you forgot."

"Taro," Hiroto began, his tone warning.

But Hiruzen raised a hand again, silencing Hiroto. "No, he's not wrong."

Hiroto stiffened, his rigid posture somehow growing even straighter. "Hokage-sama—"

"See?" Hiruzen interrupted, turning to look directly at Hiroto. "You don't even call me Dad anymore. Not even in private."

Hiroto spluttered, completely thrown off. Taro, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned back with a satisfied smirk. "Oh, this is going to be good."

"What do you mean—" Hiroto began, his composure fraying at the edges. "I'm the ANBU Commander. There's protocol. I—"

"Yes," Hiruzen said calmly, cutting him off again. "But you're also my son."

Hiroto froze, the words hitting him like a blow he hadn't expected. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, uncharacteristically unsure. Across the table, Kanna's lips pressed into a thin line, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if she were dissecting a mystery she didn't quite understand.

Hiruzen turned to each of his children in turn, his steady gaze locking onto theirs with an intensity they rarely saw from him.

Taro's smirk faltered under that gaze. It wasn't the usual look of disappointment or exasperation he'd grown accustomed to over the years. It wasn't even the cold, distant appraisal of a Hokage addressing a subordinate. No, this was different. His father was looking at him—really looking at him. As a person. As a son.

Something unfamiliar stirred in Taro's chest, an emotion he couldn't name. It wasn't discomfort, exactly, but it left him feeling strangely unsteady. What the hell was this?

"I've been thinking a lot lately," Hiruzen continued, his voice steady but heavy. "There's a lot of… let's call it shit… going on."

Taro almost choked on his tea. "What? Did you just say 'shit'? Who are you, and what have you done with the Hokage?"

Across the table, Kanna discreetly made a quick seal with her fingers. "Kai," she muttered under her breath, her chakra brushing over the room in an attempt to dispel a potential genjutsu. Nothing changed.

Hiroto, ever the perfectionist, fidgeted in his seat. His sharp gaze darted to Hiruzen, suspicion flickering in his eyes. He almost wanted to shout at the man, to demand he reveal himself as the impostor he clearly had to be. But then… it would be an impostor that had spent the afternoon with Shikaku, Hatake, Morino, and Asuma earlier. And that was impossible. Whoever this was, it was unquestionably their father. And Asuma knew what it was about.

Hiruzen took a deep breath, his expression softening. "I'm not eternal, kids."

Kanna's eyes widened slightly. "Are you sick, Father? You're… strangely loquacious tonight."

Hiruzen waved her concern away with a faint smile. "No, nothing like that. But I've been thinking. And I realized something important."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over them again. "Each of you. Hiroto, Kanna, Taro, Asuma. I've been bad—no, terrible—at showing it. Hell, I still am. But it occurred to me that, even though I assume you know it, it's healthier to say it aloud."

He straightened in his seat, his tone quiet but unshakably firm. "Even if I rarely show it, know this: I love you. Each of you. Always have."

Dead silence again.

Taro's breath hitched. He glanced at his siblings. Hiroto's sharp features were frozen in a rare display of vulnerability. Kanna's hand trembled slightly as she clutched her teacup, her eyes uncharacteristically soft. Asuma leaned back, his cigarette forgotten between his fingers, his expression unreadable.

Hiruzen leaned back, his eyes sweeping over his children as if daring them to speak. Then, in a voice far too casual for what had just transpired, he said, "Now, I want to taste the fucking ramen."

The sheer absurdity of it left them momentarily stunned. Machinelike, as if in a trance, Kanna and Asuma began unpacking the containers, serving the ramen with the precision of people who weren't entirely sure if they were awake or dreaming. Hiroto, however, sat frozen, his sharp features caught in an expression of disbelief. Then, he spluttered, the sound breaking the thick silence.

"I… I love you too, Father."

Dead silence fell over the room again.

Taro stared, wide-eyed, at Hiroto. For the first time in his life, he saw his eldest brother—the unflappable genius, the unyielding ANBU Commander, the man of stone—turn beet red. The blush spread across his face like wildfire, creeping all the way up to his ears. Hiroto's shoulders stiffened, his eyes darting anywhere but at the others.

Taro couldn't help himself. "Fuck," he said aloud, the word slipping out like it had been pulled from his chest. "Now we all have to say it."

Hiruzen smiled—this was yet another mistake the original Hiruzen had made out of cowardice, but one that he had now taken the first step to fix.

Under the Hokage Tower, Konoha.

Nonō Yakushi's pen danced across the page, her brow furrowed as she tried to keep up with the deluge of information. Her reanimated mind, sharp as ever, worked through the concepts at a dizzying speed. Across from her, Hiruzen's Shadow Clone sketched a network of interconnected pathways on the blackboard, his voice brisk and unyielding.

"…and that's why telomeres are critical," Hiruzen said, underlining the term on the board. "They're the protective caps at the ends of chromosomes. Every time a cell divides, these caps shorten. Eventually, they're worn down entirely, which triggers cellular senescence or apoptosis. This is why aging happens at a molecular level."

Nonō paused mid-note, her eyes narrowing. "So you're saying the telomeres dictate the lifespan of a cell. But why is this relevant to chakra use?"

Hiruzen turned, tapping the board with his chalk. "I don't know. yes. Maybe excessive chakra use accelerates cellular division. Each time a shinobi pushes their limits, they're not just depleting their reserves—they're shortening the lifespan of their cells. Or maybe it's the other way around, and some types of Chakra - Wood Style, for example - has a protective effect".

Hiruzen kept going. He sketched a chemical compound on the board, labeling it with careful kanji.

"This is telomerase, an enzyme naturally found in certain cells. It replenishes telomeres, essentially reversing the wear and tear caused by cell division. If we could learn to replicate or enhance its activity with medical chakra, the possibilities are limitless."

Nonō's pen resumed its furious scribbling. "You're proposing we use chakra to activate telomerase in targeted cells? That could extend the lifespan of tissues… even organs."

"No - I'm only making hypotheses. We first have to study in more depth how 'normal' biology interact with chakra.," Hiruzen replied, his tone calm but resolute. "But there's indeed more to consider. Why do clans with bloodline limits seem to exhibit higher stamina or resilience?"

?

Jiraiya sat cross-legged on a large boulder, surrounded by the serene hum of a forest alive with birdsong. His brush flew across the pages of his notebook, ink smearing slightly in his haste. His expression was a mix of intense focus and devilish glee.

"Ah, that's it!" he muttered to himself, scratching down another steamy line of dialogue. "She glances at him, her cheeks flushed, and then—"

A tiny thud interrupted his flow. Something small and round landed beside him, bouncing once before coming to a rest. He blinked, momentarily jarred, and looked down.

A little monkey, no taller than his knee, sat on the edge of the rock, tilting its head at him with an almost judgmental expression.

"You have to come back, pervert. The old man is calling for you."