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

Chapter 514 Every cloud has a gold trim, and all you have to do is wait for the wind to come.

He flipped through the report and came across the summary written by Lu Jiao on the first page.

Deer Antlers' handwriting is just like him—he'll cut corners whenever possible, and write as few strokes as possible.

But everything that needed to be said was said; not a single word was wasted.

"...Based on the reports from all departments, Konoha Village's three core indicators—total economic output, infrastructure development, and ninja combat strength—all maintained double-digit growth this quarter. The daily passenger volume of the trams has exceeded 10,000, and the total number of shops in the commercial district has quadrupled since its initial construction. The coverage of the chakra energy network continues to improve..."

In the last paragraph, the handwriting suddenly became much more messy, as if it were written while hunched over a table:

"Last week, the First Lord turned the observation deck on the 103rd floor of the Tongtian Wooden Building into a flower garden, and Madara... Madara-sama is playing chess in the flower garden."

"Respectfully presented by Lu Jiao"

"P.S.: Hokage, please recruit more people. I'm really sleepy."

Hiruzen Sarutobi stared at the last line of text for two seconds.

The corners of her mouth curved up, then she suppressed them.

He picked up his pen and wrote a line below the antlers' words, "I'm really sleepy":

"One day off approved; the final report can be submitted later."

He paused, then added three more words—"Thank you for your hard work."

The tea in the pot was still hot. He poured himself a cup and sipped it slowly.

The warmth of the tea flowed down my throat, soothing me perfectly. Faintly, I could hear footsteps changing guard outside the tent, and someone humming a tune in the distance.

Hiruzen Sarutobi put down the report.

The water in the teacup reflected the small candlelight hanging from the ceiling, the light and shadow swaying slightly.

He picked up the second apple, didn't bite it, and twirled it twice in his palm.

Konoha Village.

His village.

The tram runs along Hokage Avenue, with functional zones personally planned by Danzo on both sides—commercial streets, residential areas, and industrial areas, arranged in a well-organized manner.

Shuo Mao's farm stretched out over a large area south of the village, its white dome, protected by a constant temperature barrier, gleaming brightly in the sunlight.

Tsunade's hospital stands in the East District, its white exterior walls quite clean.

Every few days, Orochimaru's Zero Lab would send a new, chilling experimental report to the Hokage's desk.

The lights came on, the running water was connected, and the children went to school to study logic, geography, and history.

There are flower shops, barbecue restaurants, dessert shops, and Ichiraku Ramen on the street.

Some people are arguing, some are dating, and some are worrying about what to have for dinner tomorrow.

Danzo is planting buildings, Sakumo is planting crops, Orochimaru is planting technology, Tsunade is planting doctors, and Shikaku is planting headaches.

This village has come to this point.

I remember the first day I sat in the Hokage's chair.

Opening the national treasury ledger, he found the numbers so small he thought he'd misread the decimal point—the entire village barely had any drainage ditches, the ninja academy's classrooms were quite old, and a large portion of the orphans' pensions had been embezzled.

At that time, the second generation had just died, and the village was filled with a sense of gloom.

...How many years has it been?

He didn't count, didn't want to count, and got tired of counting.

But we've really come this far.

Which time traveler could have imagined that a ninja village could develop into this?

wrong.

Which "Hiruzen Sarutobi" could have come up with this?

Finished.

Hiruzen Sarutobi folded the letter, stuffed it into a standard communication seal tube, and tapped it against the tube wall.

A layer of pale blue light patterns appeared on the surface of the sealing tube, and then with a hiss, it was teleported to the spirit eagle waiting outside the tent.

A flapping sound came from the top of the tent and then quickly disappeared into the distance.

The tent fell silent again.

Hiruzen Sarutobi leaned against the edge of the bed and spread out the next few mission scrolls on the low table.

The tram operation optimization plan, the Zero Research Lab's budget request for the next quarter, the assignment list of the sixth-term graduates of the Ninja Academy, and the draft tariff agreement for the three new trade routes in the eastern part of the Land of Fire.

Each portion was neatly arranged.

"Cough cough..."

Hiruzen Sarutobi opened the first scroll, picked up his pen, and wrote annotations in the blank space.

The pen tip glides across the paper, making a soft scratching sound.

The night wind outside the tent paused for a moment, then picked up again, carrying with it the muffled sound of someone talking in their sleep coming from a distant tent—

I can't hear what they're saying.

But it sounds quite nice.

For some reason, he suddenly remembered how Asma had chased him all over the yard a few years ago, holding a cucumber he had picked from the farm.

The kid ran crookedly, his face covered in drool as he laughed.

—Just so he could have the first taste.

The pen made a soft click when it was placed back on the table.

He reached for the plate of fruit, his fingertips touching a purple berry.

I squeezed it; it was soft.

Put it in your mouth.

acid.

It suddenly became very sour.

His whole face scrunched up.

"...What the hell is that?"

Hiruzen Sarutobi gasped, startled by the sour taste, and reached out to grab the teacup. His fingers barely touched the rim—

I heard footsteps.

It's very light.

But each step is taken very steadily with even spacing, a gait developed over many years under high pressure.

Not too fast, not too slow, neither hurried nor slow.

It's not like a ninja stealthily moving; it's more like someone who's used to being watched at all times walking.

The footsteps stopped outside the tent flap.

"Lord Hokage?"

His voice was steady and composed, neither arrogant nor humble, with each syllable landing precisely where it should.

Hiruzen Sarutobi quickly suppressed the sour taste of the berry in his mouth, forcibly restoring his facial features from a "wrinkled up like a bun" state to a "calm and composed" state.

It wasn't entirely successful.

"Okay, come in."

The curtain was lifted.

A gust of cold wind carrying night dew rushed in, causing the candlelight to flicker violently.

The visitor was from Tudai.

He stood at the entrance of the tent, his figure outlined as a slender silhouette in the candlelight.

The eyepatch above the single eye gleamed faintly in the darkness, revealing a calm and deep right eye that seemed to be weighing everything it looked at.

Holding a porcelain bowl in my hand, steam rose from the rim, and the aroma of some kind of soup wafted in—the smell of miso and fish cooked together.

His gaze swept around the tent—the report on the low table, the half-eaten apple, and Hiruzen Sarutobi's face, which was clearly not yet fully relaxed.

Tsuchishiro's gaze lingered on that face for half a second.

"...I think the Hokage might not have had dinner yet."

He said this in a flat tone, as if stating a fact that did not require a response.

Then it paused for a beat.

"...Did I disturb you?"