Chapter Text
The wind blew gently over the Hidden Leaf Village, making the red and white flags sway lazily atop the towers. The streets were alive with familiar sounds—the metallic clink of swords in the forge, the laughter of children running with headbands on their wrists, and the constant murmur of market vendors offering fresh fruit and still-warm rice cakes.
This was a village at peace.
Not just because of the absence of war, but because of something deeper—a sense of security that came from the one who occupied the office atop the hill.
The Fifth Hokage was known by many names.
To adults, he was Lord Uchiha, the ninja who had restored the village’s trust in the clan that had carried both pride and suspicion for centuries.
To the young, he was simply “Tobi-sama,” the Hokage who smiled, who would stop in the middle of the street to help an elderly person carry bags, or who made bad jokes at official ceremonies.
Obito was, indeed, a different kind of Hokage.
Ever since the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze, stepped down to dedicate himself to his family, Obito had inherited the mantle under the proud gaze of his former teacher. Minato could still be seen from time to time walking through the village with Kushina, wearing the same calm smile of someone who finally had time to live—and, in part, that was why the people accepted Obito so readily.
If Minato’s disciple had been chosen by him, then the village was in good hands.
The Hokage tower was bathed in golden light that morning. Inside, seated among disorderly piles of paper, a certain Uchiha yawned.
“Kakashi, tell me this is the last pile.” Obito’s voice sounded heavy, as if the words carried weight.
“It depends,” came the unhurried reply. “If you mean today’s last pile, then yes. But if you mean tomorrow… no.”
Kakashi Hatake, the man behind the mask and the endless reports, sat cross-legged in front of the desk, organizing folders with almost irritating precision. He was, in effect, the acting Hokage—though his official title simply read “secretary.”
Obito sighed. “You were born to destroy my dreams of rest.”
“I’d say I was born to prevent you from destroying the village’s administration.” Kakashi replied, and the two exchanged a look that carried years of friendship and a hint of teasing.
The distant sound of birds entered the room. Outside, the village was alive—children training, vendors calling out to customers, and Team 7… about to cause more trouble somewhere, as usual.
Obito stretched, raising his arms. The Hokage cloak swayed lightly with the movement. “Sometimes I wonder how Minato-sensei handled this.”
Kakashi gave a half-smile that no one saw. “He stepped down before he went crazy.”
Obito’s laughter filled the room, light and sincere. It was a beautiful peace—one of those rare moments the ninja world almost never experienced.
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But, like all peace in the Leaf, it never lasted long without a touch of chaos.
The sun was already high when familiar voices began echoing across Training Field Three. Naruto Uzumaki gestured so wildly it seemed he was trying to convince the very air around him that he was right.
“I swear, Sakura-chan! If I master the new jutsu, you’re going out with me!”
Sakura sighed, a vein nearly visible on her forehead. “Naruto, you haven’t even finished learning the basic form yet!”
“But it’s just a matter of time!” he retorted, pointing to the sky as if proclaiming a heroic destiny. “And when I master it, you won’t be able to refuse!”
Sasuke, sitting in the shade of a tree, opened one eye just enough to observe the scene. “The probability of that happening is lower than you staying quiet for a minute.”
Naruto spun around immediately. “What’s that, Sasuke?! You jealous, huh?”
“Jealous of what?” Sasuke asked, impassive. “Watching you blow up the training field trying to impress Sakura?”
Naruto opened his mouth to respond, but Sakura struck him on the head with a quick hit before he could. “Enough, both of you! I just wanted a normal training day!”
The silence lasted… three seconds.
“So you’re saying if I master the jutsu, you’ll accept?” Naruto persisted, already recovering from the blow.
Sakura huffed. “If a miracle happens and you succeed, I’ll consider it.”
That was enough for the blond to puff out his chest and smile as if he had already won a war.
“Then get ready, Sakura-chan! The great Naruto Uzumaki is going to impress you so much that you—”
“—Will fall flat on your face,” a calm voice behind him finished.
Kakashi appeared shortly after, fashionably late, a hand raised in a casual wave and the orange book in the other.
“Sorry I’m late. A cat crossed the street.”
“Again?!” Naruto nearly shouted.
Kakashi just turned a page. “It’s a very busy cat.”
Sakura sighed. “I can’t believe the Hokage puts up with all your tardiness, Kakashi-sensei.”
Kakashi raised his eyes just enough for the fold of his mask to resemble a smile. “He tries.”
High up in the tower, if Obito knew how loud Kakashi’s team was first thing in the morning, he might rethink the meaning of “peace”.
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The Hokage’s office was especially quiet that afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting golden patterns over the stacks of documents. Obito Uchiha leaned over a village map, his brow slightly furrowed—not from worry, but from pure concentration.
“Thinking of expanding the training center?” The familiar voice of Minato Namikaze sounded behind him, soft and calm as always.
Obito looked up, surprised for just a moment. “Sensei! I didn’t hear you come in.”
Minato smiled, leaning on the doorframe. “Old habits.”
Obito laughed. “Dangerous habits.”
“Only for those with something to hide,” Minato replied, walking to the desk.
His presence was like a fresh breeze—and even after stepping down, he still carried that gentle air of authority. Since abdicating the Hokage title, he spent his days assisting at the ninja academies, mentoring promising youths, and visiting the village to oversee small details many overlooked. He was someone who understood with his eyes what words sometimes couldn’t convey, always with a light smile that seemed to dissipate tension.
“Kushina asked me to remind you about tomorrow’s lunch,” said the blond, glancing at the mess of papers. “And she said if you keep sleeping in the tower, she’ll drag you there by your hair.”
“She wouldn’t be the first,” Obito remarked, stacking some reports and trying to look more responsible than he really was. “I’ve just been reviewing some wall maintenance requests.”
“Wall maintenance that was already approved last week, Obito,” Minato pointed out, smiling.
Obito froze for a moment, lost among the folders neatly organized by Kakashi. “…Are you sure?”
“I am. Kakashi told me.”
The name alone made the Hokage look away for a brief second—a small gesture, but noticeable to those who knew him well. Minato said nothing, keeping his calm smile.
“He’s still your perfect right-hand man, isn’t he?” he asked lightly.
Obito cleared his throat, trying to mask his expression. Right-hand… and left-hand sometimes. I don’t know what I’d do without him.
“You’d probably drown in paperwork,” Minato laughed. “He seems to know you better than you know yourself.”
Obito opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out immediately. The following silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was one of those moments when words lose importance.
Minato, observing, tilted his head, a serene look in his eyes.
He saw the same spark in Obito’s gestures that he used to see in a young ninja’s eyes when speaking about the person he trusted most.
It wasn’t something that needed to be said. It just existed.
Minato was patient, observant, and knew exactly when to speak and when to let the other notice things on their own. He understood the subtleties of human relationships and, with Obito, saw genuine affection—discreet, yet perceptible. He said nothing because he didn’t need to.
He simply kept that small secret of the Hokage’s heart to himself, content in knowing Obito could also trust his own feelings, even without naming them.
“You’re doing well, Obito,” he finally said in a low voice. “The village trusts you… and so do I.”
Obito took a deep breath, the weight of his responsibilities eased by that recognition. “Thank you, sensei. I just try not to disappoint anyone.”
“Then you’re doing everything right.” Minato adjusted his cloak before turning to the door. “Ah, and tell Kakashi to stop by my house one of these days. Kushina misses him… and the cake he never brings back.”
“Okay, will do.”
When the door closed behind the Fourth Hokage, Obito stayed for a moment, looking out over the village.
From where he was, he could see the children training in Field Three, small figures bustling under the sun.
And among them, a silver silhouette.
Kakashi.
An involuntary smile curved Obito’s lips.
For a moment, the Hokage let himself forget the paperwork and routine—he just watched his friend leading the training, with the patience of someone accustomed to chaos.
Perhaps Minato was right.
He really wouldn’t know what to do without that man.
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Training Field Three buzzed with energy.
Naruto ran back and forth, attempting a sequence of basic jutsus, while Sakura watched each movement patiently, and Sasuke stayed silent, as always, evaluating mistakes with a critical gaze. Kakashi remained nearby, overseeing the training with a relaxed posture that contrasted with the trio’s intensity. Even with his usual orange book in hand, every move was closely monitored—wrong punches, poorly calculated jumps, or failed jutsus were quickly corrected, always with patience intact.
But that day, Naruto’s mind was far from the techniques.
It was Kakashi’s mask that consumed him. That damned dark mask that hid everything: the smile, the face, even expressions when he was irritated—or, as Naruto suspected, embarrassed.
“Hey, Sakura!” Naruto whispered, practically bouncing with excitement. “Have you noticed he never shows his face? Not even a little bit?”
Sakura raised an eyebrow, keeping her observation notebook in hand. “Naruto, we’re training. Pay attention.”
“But it’s important!” Naruto countered, almost jumping across the field. “If anyone would know, it’s me! I’ll find out anyway!”
Sasuke just sighed. “Your focus on useless things is scary.”
It wasn’t Naruto’s first attempt to trick or provoke Kakashi. He had tried simple distractions: tricky questions, strength challenges, chases, even attempts at “disguised jutsu”—all unsuccessful. The silver-haired man remained impassive, the mask as firm as ever, an impenetrable shield.
Then the idea came: the Sexy Jutsu. It worked on most of the village’s jonin and the Third Hokage—it would definitely work on Kakashi. Naruto closed his eyes, focused his chakra, and in a swirl of pink smoke, transformed into a tall, dark-haired woman with exaggerated curves—the very definition of provocation.
“Tada!” he exclaimed, spinning in the air with the most charming smile he could force. “Kakashi-sensei, look at me!”
Sakura, without hesitation, raised her fist and struck Naruto forcefully in the face, knocking him to the ground before he could even complete the second spin.
“Idiot!” she shouted, adjusting her hair while glancing at Sasuke, who merely raised an eyebrow. “This kind of thing isn’t going to get you anywhere!”
Naruto got up, rubbing his sore nose, but with a spark in his eyes that only showed more determination. “Alright, alright! I just… need to know!”
Kakashi, indifferent, closed his book and sighed. “One day you’ll realize, Naruto, that some things simply aren’t meant to be discovered so soon.”
Sasuke crossed his arms. “And you’ll keep trying until you realize that yourself, won’t you?”
Naruto grinned crookedly, still catching his breath. “Of course! No problem! I’ll find out!”
And so, amid laughter, shouts, and Sakura’s strategic punches, Team 7 continued their training that day—a delightful chaos full of mischief, friendship, and curiosity—while the Hidden Leaf Village went on with its calm, sunlit rhythm.