Naruto : Blazing Legend

Chapter 34: Guard

The morning mist clung to the compound walls like ghostly fingers as Rei scaled the stone barrier with practiced silence. His breath formed small clouds in the cold air, each exhale a reminder of how exposed he was in this moment. The ANBU mask felt heavier than usual against his face, its porcelain surface cold against his skin.

Noyama never saw him coming.

The steel of Rei's tanto pressed against the man's throat within seconds, the blade's edge catching the pale dawn light. "ANBU!" Noyama's voice cracked with terror as his hand instinctively moved toward his kunai pouch—a futile gesture that spoke to years of training overriding common sense.

"Don't." Rei's voice was barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of absolute certainty. "You have no chance of winning."

The fear in Noyama's eyes was palpable, pupils dilated wide enough that Rei could see his own masked reflection in them. Behind Noyama, another ANBU operative materialized from the shadows like death incarnate, completing the trap with silent efficiency. The man's shoulders sagged in defeat before the fight had even begun.

---

The interrogation department's cells always smelled of fear and disinfectant—a combination that made Rei's stomach turn. The two captured operatives would disappear into those sterile rooms, and what emerged would be hollow shells of men, their secrets extracted like poison from a wound.

Such was the nature of their work.

In the Hokage's office, smoke hung in the air like the ghosts of burned documents. Sarutobi Hiruzen sat behind his desk, pipe clenched between yellowed teeth, studying the four masked figures before him with eyes that had seen too much.

"Well done," the Third Hokage said, exhaling another cloud of smoke that seemed to curl around the office like searching fingers. "Starting tomorrow, your team will serve as my personal guards."

Senzo's excitement was audible even through his mask—the slight intake of breath, the barely perceptible straightening of his spine. "It's an honor to serve as your guard, Hokage-sama."

Hiruzen's laughter filled the room, but there was something hollow about it, like the sound of wind through empty graves. The sound made Rei's skin crawl beneath his uniform.

Why us? The question gnawed at Rei as they left the office. His guards should be elite jōnin, not a team with two special jōnin who barely qualify as such. The pieces of some larger game were moving around him, but he couldn't see the board clearly enough to understand the strategy.

Special jōnin—chunin with delusions of grandeur, skilled in narrow fields but lacking the comprehensive strength of true jōnin. They were expendable assets, easily replaced if something went wrong.

The realization settled in his stomach like a cold stone.

---

The next morning came too soon, painted in shades of gray that matched Rei's mood. The ANBU hand signals changed daily—a paranoid precaution against infiltrators, though Rei wondered if such measures were truly effective or merely security theater designed to make them feel safer than they actually were.

Guard duty stretched from seven to seven, twelve hours of standing at attention while life moved around them like they were statues. Another team would take the night shift, four more masked figures to watch over the village's aging shepherd while he slept.

At the Hokage's residence, domestic life unfolded with painful normalcy. Biwako Sarutobi moved through her morning routine with the practiced efficiency of decades, preparing breakfast and lunch for young Asuma with the kind of maternal care that felt foreign to Rei. The boy carried two lunch portions—obviously intended for Yuhi Kurenai, though he tried to hide this fact with the transparent cunning of youth.

Hiruzen emerged from his morning exercises looking every one of his years, the weight of leadership carved into the lines of his face. He ate his breakfast in silence, mechanical movements that spoke to a man going through the motions of living rather than truly being alive.

The walk to the Hokage building was short—a few hundred meters that felt like miles under the weight of watching eyes. Documents waited in towering stacks that seemed to grow taller with each passing day, an endless tide of administrative burden that would have broken lesser men.

No wonder Jiraiya refused the position, Rei thought, watching the Third Hokage survey his daily mountain of paperwork. Some people are meant for freedom, not cages—even golden ones.

"Rei, step forward."

The words hit like ice water in his veins. He'd known this moment would come, had felt it approaching like a storm on the horizon, but the reality of it still made his breath catch.

"Hokage-sama."

Hiruzen's eyes held a warmth that felt manufactured, like a fire built from wet wood—providing light but no real heat. "There are too few geniuses like you in the village. Creating your own jutsu at such a young age... remarkable."

What followed was a masterclass in psychological manipulation disguised as reminiscence. For three hours, Hiruzen wove tales of the Warring States period, of teachers who died to save their students, of sacrifices made in the name of protecting the village. His voice never wavered, never paused for water or rest, each word carefully chosen to chip away at Rei's defenses.

The Will of Fire—that sacred philosophy that bound the village together like invisible chains.

"Where the leaves of Konoha dance, the fire will continue to grow," Hiruzen recited, tears streaming down his weathered cheeks. "The flames will continue to illuminate this village and let new leaves sprout."

Despite himself, Rei felt moisture gathering in his own eyes. Not from the beauty of the sentiment, but from the calculated cruelty of using genuine emotion as a weapon. He removed his mask to wipe away the evidence of his humanity, cursing silently at his own weakness.

Damn him, Rei thought. Three hours without stopping. He's more dangerous than any enemy I've faced.

Hiruzen noted the tears with satisfaction, filing away another small victory in his campaign to reshape an Uchiha soul. In his mind, he was already planning similar sessions with Obito, weaving the web that would bind the clan's prodigies to his vision of loyalty.

"Forgive an old man's rambling," Hiruzen said finally, his voice carrying just the right note of self-deprecation. "You may return to your post."

Rei bowed and flickered back to his position, his mind reeling with the historical details he'd absorbed. Sarutobi Hiruzen wasn't just the Third Hokage—he was a living repository of the village's darkest secrets and bloodiest triumphs.

---

Afternoon brought its own form of torture—the crushing weight of boredom that made minutes feel like hours. Senzo's slap across his helmet jolted Rei from a microsleep that could have been a death sentence if they'd been facing real enemies.

The walk back to the Hokage residence felt like a funeral procession, four masked figures trailing behind their aging leader like mourners following a coffin.

"You don't need to cook tonight," Hiruzen told his wife with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "We have a special guest chef."

Rei emerged from the trees when called, already knowing his fate. Forced labor disguised as honor—another small humiliation designed to remind him of his place in the hierarchy.

"I've heard you're quite the cook, Rei. Would you mind preparing dinner for us?"

How could I possibly refuse? "Leave it to me, Hokage-sama."

Shadow clones materialized to assist him—spicy and sour potato shreds, sweet and sour fish, and chicken soup. Simple dishes that carried the weight of a mother's love he'd never known, techniques learned from watching through windows at lives he could never have.

Biwako watched his clones work with fascination and something that might have been envy. Here was a child who could create life from nothing, who could cook with more skill than she'd developed in decades of marriage.

Asuma's rebellion crumbled at the mention of impressing girls, teenage hormones overriding stubborn pride. The boy practically threw himself into the kitchen, desperate to learn any skill that might win Kurenai's attention.

At dinner, the family ate with enthusiasm that felt genuine—perhaps the first real emotions Rei had witnessed in this house of political theater. For a moment, surrounded by the warmth of domestic life, he could almost forget the darkness that lurked beneath Konoha's surface.

Almost.

But even as Biwako asked him to teach her his techniques, even as Asuma pledged to learn everything he could, Rei couldn't shake the feeling that he was being slowly devoured. Each kindness was a chain, each shared meal another link in the bindings that would transform him from a person into a tool.

The Will of Fire burned bright in the Hokage's home that night, but Rei wondered if anyone else could see the shadows it cast—or if they simply chose not to look.

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