A soft rustle sounded from within, followed by the rich, earthy scent of pipe smoke. Hiruzen emerged, his robes loose on his frame, the deep lines on his face catching the light as he fixed his gaze on Souta. "Souta. What brings you here?" His voice was warm, but it carried the weight of too many years.
Souta flashed a small grin and stepped inside, waving a hand casually. "Just stopping by. Figured you might be climbing the walls without all that Hokage business keeping you busy."
Hiruzen let out a quiet laugh and gestured toward a low table where a teapot sat, steam curling upward. "Take a seat. I'll pour you some tea. But don't think I'm fooled—you're not here just to see how I'm holding up."
Souta dropped onto a cushion, crossing his legs, and chuckled. "You got me, Sarutobi-sama. Still sharp as a kunai." He leaned forward as Hiruzen poured the tea, the steam rising between them. "I've been hearing things around the village. Thought you'd have some wisdom to share."
Hiruzen's eyes flicked up, steady but curious. "Things, huh? It's been noisy out there lately. What's on your mind?"
Souta took the cup, sipping before replying. "It's all this talk about the Uchiha. Burned bodies, fights breaking out—people are jittery, and they're pointing fingers at them. I'm not sure what to make of it." He let a hint of uncertainty creep into his voice. "You've seen everything. Is it as bad as it sounds?"
Hiruzen set his pipe down, smoke drifting upward as he exhaled. "The village is tense, no question. Fear makes people see threats where there might just be shadows. The Uchiha are proud—sometimes too proud. That pride rubs some the wrong way."
Souta nodded, keeping his face serious. "Yeah, I've noticed. They always seem so… apart, you know? But burning people? That's a hell of a jump. Do you think there's truth to it?"
Hiruzen's brow furrowed, his gaze sharpening slightly. "You're not a shinobi, Souta. Why's this clan mess got your interest?"
Souta laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just a guy trying to keep my stall afloat. But when folks start whispering about murders, it's hard not to listen. I don't want trouble—just want to know if I need to watch my back."
Hiruzen studied him for a moment, then leaned back with a sigh. "You're a good kid, Souta. Always have been. There's no solid evidence yet—not enough to say for certain. Minato's looking into it, and he's fair. But the Uchiha… they're under a lot of scrutiny. It's not the first time they've had eyes on them."
Souta tilted his head, curiosity plain on his face. "Not the first time? You mean this has come up before?"
Hiruzen took a slow drag from his pipe, staring into the distance for a beat. "The village is a delicate thing. The Uchiha helped build it, but their strength—those eyes—unsettles people. After the Second War, there were whispers. Nothing concrete."
Souta let out a low whistle, leaning closer. "So it's old wounds reopening? That's rough. Makes you wonder if they're just catching the blame—or if there's fire behind the smoke."
Hiruzen's mouth tightened briefly. "That's the problem. Without proof, it's all just talk. But talk can turn ugly if it's not reined in."
Souta nodded, sipping his tea and letting the silence hang for a moment. Then, as if it just occurred to him, he added, "Some folks were saying the burns looked like Fire Release—clean, precise. That's why the Uchiha are getting heat, I guess. They're the fire experts, right?"
Hiruzen glanced at him, sharp but not accusing. "They are. Doesn't mean it's them—plenty of shinobi can wield fire. It's not evidence."
"Right, of course," Souta said, flashing a quick grin and backing off. "Just passing along what I heard. I wouldn't know a jutsu from a cooking fire. Still, it's creepy—makes you think twice about walking home late."
Hiruzen chuckled, the tension easing. "You've got a solid head on you, Souta. Don't let the rumors shake you. The truth always surfaces in time."
Souta set his cup down and smiled. "Hope so. Thanks for the tea—and the perspective. Keeps me steady."
"Anytime," Hiruzen said, waving as Souta stood. "Stay safe out there."
"You too, old man." Souta stepped outside, the smile shifting to a smirk as the door clicked shut. He'd dropped a hint—small, subtle, just enough to nudge Hiruzen toward the Uchiha's past. The old man wouldn't act yet, but doubt was a slow ember. Souta knew how to stoke it.
Back home, Pakura sat at the table, a skewer of grilled meat in her hand. She didn't look up as he entered, just took a bite and chewed. "Where'd you go?"
Souta shrugged off his cloak, tossing it onto a chair. "Had tea with Hiruzen."
Her eyes snapped up, narrowing. "The Third? What for?"
"Keeping things friendly," he said, snagging a skewer from the plate and biting into it. "He still sees me as a good little civilian. Figured I'd play that card."
Pakura snorted. "You're pushing it now. What'd you tell him?"
"Just asked about the Uchiha rumors. Let him talk." He smirked, chewing. "Slipped in a few vague bits—nothing heavy. He's too trusting to suspect me."
She shook her head and set her skewer down. "You're out of your damn mind. If he catches on—"
"He won't," Souta interrupted, his tone firm. "Not unless I screw up. And I don't."
Pakura stared at him, then sighed. "That's what everyone says before it all crashes down."
He grinned, leaning against the table beside her. "Relax. Everything's still on track."
"For now," she muttered under her breath, but she let it go. The room fell quiet, the faint hum of the village's unrest seeping through the walls.
...
Weeks had passed since Souta's chat with Hiruzen, and Konoha was hanging on by a thread. The burned bodies had faded from conversation, replaced by shattered windows at Uchiha shops, hateful words carved into their walls, and quick scuffles that left bloody noses and bruised pride.
It wasn't full-blown chaos yet, but the tension was a taut wire, ready to snap. Souta observed it all from the sidelines, hands in his pockets, a small smirk tugging at his lips. The Uchiha were fraying, Danzo was tightening his control, and Minato was racing to hold things together. It was unfolding exactly as he'd planned.