Naruto: After Seclusion Becoming Naruto Grandfather

Asuma heard the Third Hokage's command to obey and smiled bitterly.

"Is there nothing you wouldn't demand, Father?" he muttered.

For much of his life, the Third Hokage had been a looming figure—a hurdle Asuma could never quite overcome.

As a child, he admired and revered his father. As a teenager, he rebelled against his ideals. Later, during his time with the Twelve Guardian, he began to understand and even respect his father's philosophy.

Through it all, one thing remained constant: a deep familial bond that tethered Asuma's heart to his father's, no matter the disagreements.

But now, that bond was shattered. Torn apart by his father's own actions and callous disregard, it lay in ruins at his feet.

Dragging Kurenai by the hand, Asuma turned his back on the Hokage's office and walked away. His steps were heavy but resolute, each one severing the ties that had once bound him.

The Third Hokage's translucent form trembled with a mix of shock and rage.

"It's rebellion!" he bellowed. "Rebellion!"

His voice echoed through the Hokage's office.

"As a ninja, have you forgotten the value of obedience?" he demanded.

To the Third Hokage, Konoha's ninjas were instruments of sacrifice. They lived and died at his command, and their willingness to do so was what made them noble.

For him, even the act of giving one's life in the name of duty carried a certain beauty—a word he called sacrifice.

And now, his son wasn't being asked to die. All he'd asked was for Asuma's woman to accompany the Daimyo, a small price for the sake of Konoha.

But Asuma dared to defy him. He dared to storm out of the Hokage Building, leaving his father humiliated.

The Third Hokage's spectral form began to flicker violently, rippling like disturbed water.

His voice rose in fury as he pointed a trembling hand in the direction Asuma had disappeared.

"Someone, bring Asuma and Kurenai back to me!" he roared. "Even the son of the Hokage is not above the rules of our village!"

But the ninjas in the room stood frozen, unmoving.

Their silence only fueled the Third Hokage's anger.

He glared at them, his spectral eyes blazing.

"Did you not hear me? I said, bring Asuma and Kurenai—"

"Enough, old man," Jiraiya interrupted, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

The room turned toward him, and for the first time, Jiraiya's tone carried none of its usual warmth or playfulness.

"Shut your mouth," he said bluntly, "before someone decides to toss your stone into a pit where it belongs."

The room fell into stunned silence.

Jiraiya's expression was weary, his voice tinged with melancholy. "We're ninjas, not lapdogs for the Daimyo," he continued.

He gestured toward the gathered shinobi.

"Everyone here has better things to do. If the Daimyo wants to help, fine—arrange for someone to take his letter to the other nations. If he doesn't, then so be it."

"But personnel? Maids? Villas?" Jiraiya scoffed. "We're not here to cater to his whims."

The gathered ninjas, visibly relieved, began moving to follow Jiraiya's instructions.

The Third Hokage, watching the scene unfold, felt a rising tide of panic.

"Jiraiya!" he cried, his voice trembling with desperation.

"You ungrateful fool! Have you forgotten everything I taught you? I raised you from a worthless student into one of the world-famous Sannin!"

His voice cracked with indignation.

"How dare you treat me like this! Do you have no loyalty? No conscience?"

Jiraiya closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to block out the barrage of accusations.

When he opened them again, they were filled with quiet resolve.

"Sensei," he said softly, "this is the last time I will call you that."

He raised a fist and brought it down with all his strength.

RUMBLE!

The floor of the Hokage's office exploded into a massive crater, shards of wood and stone scattering like shrapnel.

The gathered ninjas instinctively ducked for cover.

The Third Hokage's spectral form flickered wildly, his translucent face contorting with panic.

"What—what are you doing?" he stammered.

For the first time, the man who had been hailed as the God of Shinobi looked truly terrified.

In that moment, the reality of his powerlessness hit him like a crushing wave. He was no longer the indomitable Hokage—just a fragile soul bound to a stone.

Jiraiya stared at him, his face etched with sadness and disappointment.

"Hiruzen, you should've stayed dead," he said softly.

His voice carried no malice, only a deep sorrow.

"The Uzumaki's resurrection wasn't a gift. It was a curse. And all it's done is tarnish your legacy. You should've remained the kind and brave man we all admired, the Hokage who sacrificed everything for Konoha. But now... you're just a bitter ghost."

The Third Hokage didn't hear the wisdom in Jiraiya's words. His mind fixated on one word—dead.

The idea of death clawed at his fragile psyche, his greed for survival overwhelming all else.