Naruto - The God of Shinobi

( Kazeo's POV )

As soon as I stepped out of the Hokage's office, I let out a shaky breath—one I hadn't even realized I was holding. My heart was still pounding, my palms slightly damp with sweat.

Damn... that was intense.

Talking to the Hokage always feels like walking on a tightrope. It's not just his title that makes him intimidating—it's his presence. That unshakable calm, those sharp, knowing eyes... It's as if he can peel back every layer of my mind and see what's truly underneath.

I wiped my hands on my pants and exhaled again.

'Get it together, Kazeo.'

I was just a normal 20-year-old guy in my past life—I never had to deal with higher-ups or political figures. And the Hokage? He carries a kind of pressure that's hard to describe. Somewhere deep inside, there's always this lingering fear that if he wanted to, he could end me in a second.

Now that I've started writing, I know I'll have to talk to Hokage and even more powerful people in the future. I need to work on controlling my emotions and developing a poker face. Otherwise, I'll always be an open book, and that's dangerous.

That being said, the meeting actually went better than expected. The Hokage approved my novel publishing idea. Now, I just have to write and bring Demon Slayer into this world.

Another good thing was that he agreed to take a 30% cut from my earnings. At first, I was thinking of keeping all the money for myself, but in the long run, this is like an insurance policy. If my future novels start making a lot of money and the Hokage begins wondering, "Why does a child need so much wealth?"—this deal will serve as proof that I've always been willing to contribute to the village. It also helps reinforce the Will of Fire image I need to maintain.

I know for a fact that the Hokage has been instilling the Will of Fire in children from a young age, subtly manipulating them into becoming loyal shinobi. If I hadn't known about that, I probably wouldn't have thought of this move.

After living alone for the past month, one thing has become painfully clear—there's no way to survive on just 2000 ryo a month. Back in my past life, whenever I needed money, my parents provided it. Even in the orphanage, I never had to worry about expenses. But now that I'm on my own, I've realized something—I suck at managing money! One moment, I have it, and the next, it's all gone.

That's why I decided to write stories from my previous life. This could bring me both prestige and money.

And if I think about it, Demon Slayer is the perfect story for this world.

Samurai and swordsmen already exist here.

The protagonist is an orphan, just like me and other orphans.

Breathing techniques are different from jutsu but still believable.

The MC's righteousness and innocence will attract both civilians and shinobi since they strongly believe in the Will of Fire.

With a little push from the Hokage, this could become a bestseller within a month—at least in Konoha and the Land of Fire. Now, I just need to decide how many volumes I should publish after a month.

I was so deep in thought that I didn't even realize I had reached home. I opened the door, stepping inside, but my mind was already planning the next step.

Time to bring Demon Slayer to life.

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( Hiruzen's POV )

Hiruzen absentmindedly tapped his fingers on the desk, staring at the freshly signed document in front of him.

This boy…

When Kazeo first walked into my office today, I had expected the usual—a request for training, jutsu, maybe a mission opportunity. After all, he trains hard every single day.

But instead, he asked me for permission to publish a novel.

I won't lie—I was surprised.

And then, he offered to give 30% of his earnings to the village.

That was when I decided to test him.

I told him the village didn't need his money—which was true. Konoha has more than enough resources, and a child's book profits wouldn't make much of a difference. I wanted to see his reaction.

Would he back down? Would he hesitate?

But no. He insisted.

And what caught my attention the most wasn't just the words he spoke—but the sincerity in his eyes.

He wasn't scheming. He wasn't trying to manipulate me.

At least, not in a way that felt calculated.

That's when I realized—this boy truly believes in the Will of Fire.

He may be mature beyond his years, but deep down, he is still just a child trying to find his place in this village.

And that makes him… interesting.

If his story succeeds, it means he's either highly imaginative or a natural-born storyteller. If it fails, then he'll simply learn a valuable lesson about the world.

Either way, I suppose we'll find out soon.

I picked up my tea, taking a slow sip.

One month… Let's see what kind of story this boy will create.

------

One week later -

The dim glow of the underground chamber cast long, stretching shadows across the cold stone walls. The scent of blood clung to the air, thick and metallic, mixing with the acrid burn of antiseptic. Orochimaru stood at the center of it all—his personal chamber of evolution—where flesh and mortality were mere ingredients in his pursuit of eternity.

The room was lined with limp bodies, their expressions frozen in the agony of unfinished screams. Their deaths were insignificant in the grand scheme of things. A necessary cost.

A sigh.

"You've truly disappointed me, Orochimaru."

That voice. That weary, familiar voice.

Orochimaru turned, his golden eyes meeting the aged gaze of the man who had once been his idol.

Hiruzen Sarutobi stood at the entrance, his posture firm but his expression… pained. The flickering torchlight revealed the deep lines carved into his face, the weight of years pressing on his shoulders like an unseen force. His hands did not tremble, though Orochimaru wondered if it was discipline or sheer will keeping them steady.

For a moment, just a moment, the air between them was heavy with something unspoken.

Orochimaru smiled. It was not an expression of joy, nor even of cruelty—it was something far colder. "Disappointed?" he echoed, tilting his head slightly. "You always knew what I was, Sensei. You just refused to see it."

Hiruzen exhaled, slow and measured. "I saw a boy with unmatched brilliance. A boy with the potential to lead Konoha into a new era." His gaze flickered to the bodies strewn across the room, and the disappointment deepened into something heavier. "Not… this."

Orochimaru chuckled softly. "And yet, I did not change. I only embraced what you were too afraid to acknowledge." He gestured toward the lifeless bodies, their existence reduced to nothing more than failed experiments. "Evolution requires sacrifice. You trained me to be a shinobi, to do whatever is necessary for the mission. This is no different."

Hiruzen's grip tightened around his staff. "No, Orochimaru. This is different. You have strayed too far."

Orochimaru's smile faded. He could hear the sorrow in Hiruzen's voice, the hesitation in his stance. And it infuriated him.

"You knew, didn't you?" Orochimaru stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. "You knew what I was doing, yet you looked the other way for so long. Why now, Sensei? Why did you wait until I had nothing left to lose?"

Hiruzen flinched—barely, but it was enough.

Orochimaru laughed, a hollow sound that echoed against the chamber walls. "Ah… I see. You always hoped I would change." His golden eyes burned with something sharp, something venomous. "How naïve."

The old man took a deep breath. His stance shifted ever so slightly—ready, prepared. The look in his eyes was no longer that of a teacher but of a Hokage. "You leave me no choice."

Orochimaru's expression darkened. "Do you truly think you can stop me?"

Hiruzen didn't answer. Instead, he moved.

A flurry of hand signs, a burst of chakra—shuriken rained toward Orochimaru, slicing through the air with deadly precision.

But Orochimaru was already gone, his body twisting, contorting, slithering through the gaps like a phantom. He reappeared behind his former master, his voice a breath against the old man's ear.

"You hesitated, Sensei."

A kunai shot forward—fast, precise—but Hiruzen blocked it at the last second, his staff intercepting the attack with a dull clang. The force sent a jolt up his arms, but Orochimaru merely grinned, pressing in closer.

"Kill me." His voice was a whisper, taunting. "That's what a true Hokage would do, wouldn't they?"

The staff wavered—an instant, a fraction of hesitation.

Orochimaru saw it. And he knew.

His smile widened.

"You can't do it."

A sharp hiss. His body melted away, sinking into the shadows, slithering through the cracks of the room as though he had never been there at all.

Hiruzen turned, but Orochimaru was already at the exit, his silhouette barely visible against the torchlight.

His voice was the last thing to linger.

"Farewell, Sensei."

And then he was gone.

The chamber fell into silence, leaving only the weight of what had transpired behind.

Hiruzen stood amidst the carnage, his grip on his staff tight, his heart heavy with a sorrow too deep to name.

His greatest failure had just slipped through his fingers.

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The Morning After Orochimaru's Defection – Kazeo & His Classmates

The Academy classroom was unusually tense that morning. The usual childish energy had been replaced by hushed whispers, glances toward the door, and nervous shifting in seats. Something big had happened last night—something none of them fully understood.

Kazeo sat at his desk, chin resting on his hand as he listened in silence. He already knew, of course. Orochimaru's defection wasn't just a loss—it was a massacre.

Shiro, the Nara, sighed dramatically. "So… the Hokage really couldn't stop him?"

Daiki, the Hyūga, nodded, his pale eyes wider than usual. "I heard my uncle talking about it. The ANBU squad that went after him… almost all of them died."

Hotaru, the Inuzuka, growled under her breath. "That's so unfair! The Hokage is supposed to be the strongest!"

Ren, the Senju, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke. "The Hokage is strong," he said firmly. "But Orochimaru wasn't just powerful. He knew how to fight him. He had it planned."

That made everyone pause. Planned. It wasn't just a fight—it was an escape that had been set in motion long before last night.

Then, Sora, the Uchiha, scoffed. "If the Uchiha Clan had been sent instead of ANBU, we could've stopped him."

Ryou, the Aburame, adjusted his glasses. "That's a bold claim. Orochimaru wasn't just some rogue ninja."

Sora's dark eyes flashed. "Neither are the Uchiha."

Hotaru crossed her arms. "Oh yeah? Then why didn't the Hokage call your clan?"

Sora went silent. His jaw clenched, and he looked away.

Kazeo finally spoke, voice neutral but thoughtful. "…Maybe he didn't have time."

Everyone turned to him.

Kazeo shrugged. "Orochimaru planned his escape well. Maybe the Hokage sent whoever was closest."

The answer wasn't completely satisfying, but it made sense. The conversation might have ended there, but then Shiro spoke again, voice quieter.

"…Did you guys hear about the experiments?"

The already heavy atmosphere darkened.

Daiki's face paled. "You mean… the rumors about missing people?"

Ryou nodded. "It's not just rumors. My dad said the Hokage's office found bodies in his hideouts. And not just any bodies—Konoha shinobi."

Hotaru's eyes widened in horror. "He was experimenting on our own people?"

Shiro swallowed. "That's what they're saying."

Ren's hands clenched into fists. "That's… disgusting. Why would he do that?"

No one had an answer.

Except Kazeo.

Because he never saw them as people. Just tools , Just data.

But he didn't say that.

Instead, he let out a slow breath. "Maybe he thought people were just… another way to get stronger."

The class fell into an uneasy silence.

Finally, Shiro sighed. "Man… this sucks. If Orochimaru left, who else might leave?"

Ren's expression hardened. "Whoever it is… they won't get away so easily next time."

Kazeo tilted his head slightly, watching the determined look in the Senju's eyes.

Heh… if only you knew.

But he didn't say anything. Instead, he leaned back, letting the conversation drift away.

This was a reminder for him that time is slipping.