The heavy wooden doors shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the outside world. Inside, the Hokage’s temporary office was dimly lit, the scent of old parchment, ink, and faint tobacco smoke lingering in the air.

  At the far end, seated behind a sturdy wooden desk covered in reports and scrolls, was Hiruzen Sarutobi. His eyes lifted from his documents the moment Ibiki and Ando entered.

  After a brief exchange of greetings, the trio fell into a contemptive silence—a pause that granted the Hokage a precious moment to assess the situation.

  Hiruzen had seen thousands of faces over the years, shinobi and civilians. He had watched generations rise and fall under his leadership, had personally trained some of the greatest shinobi the vilge had ever seen. And the thing that helped him through it all, was his near eidetic memory.

  A single look was all he needed to recognize the young boy standing before him, despite the changes in appearance and demeanor.

  He came from Bright Orphanage.

  One of the many children left behind in the aftermath of the Kyubi’s assault. A little oddball, more serious than his peers, with a build that had been a little more muscur than the other orphans his age. There had been something different about him even then, an innate awareness, a quiet maturity far beyond his years.

  At the time, Hiruzen had seen it as the natural caution of an orphaned child who understood that the world owed him nothing. A survivor’s mindset, even before training. An excellent quality that would make the child into a remarkable shinobi.

  His growth during his first year at the academy was proof of it.

  But… he had changed.

  Gone was the barely hidden curiosity in his eyes, the spark of cautious intellect. That quiet but undeniable presence, the one that marked children who could one day grow into powerful shinobi, had been hollowed out.

  The boy before him was no longer a child shaped by hardship. The dark eyes that he now possessed had nothing to do on a child his age. And it made a painful reminder for Hiruzen, a reminder of yet another one of his failures.

  Hiruzen’s grip on his pipe tightened slightly before he slowly exhaled, his deep voice breaking the silence. “… You remember me.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  But Ando still gave a small nod in response.

  Hiruzen leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “From the orphanage?”

  Another nod.

  Hiruzen sighed, setting his pipe aside. “You’ve changed, Ando.”

  A simple statement, but one with weight. Ando didn’t respond right away, wondering where the hokage was going with this. His fingers flexed slightly at his side before he finally said, “Two years is a long time.”

  “Yes… yes, it is…”

  The quiet stretched, not tense, but expectant. Hiruzen was waiting for Ando to eborate, but it seemed like the orphan wasn’t too keen on that. So, he settled on observation.

  There was something… contained about the kid. As if every movement, every breath, every thought was carefully structured. Ando wasn’t waiting for orders. He was waiting to see. To gauge. Absorbing the information to help him decide what came next.

  Hiruzen’s gaze softened just a fraction. “Ando… what do you want to do?”

  For a moment, surprise flickered across Ando’s face. Clearly, he hadn’t expected that kind of question. He lowered his gaze slightly, just enough to hide that light, or was it to indicate that he was thinking? Hiruzen wasn’t sure.

  Then, when he finally looked back up, his voice filled with unwavering resolve.

  “I want to kill him.”

  Neither Ibiki nor Hiruzen reacted overtly. They both understood precisely whom the orphan meant.

  Ando continued; his voice low yet heavy with intent. “But before that, I want him to suffer.” His words were punctuated by a surge of chakra, a pulse that revealed the vast reservoir of power he possessed.

  It settled over them like a pressure in the air, making the scrolls and documents on the Hokage’s desk tremble just a fraction. The guards outside the room tensed, a shift of movement audible through the door.

  Ibiki’s eyes sharpened, but he said nothing.

  Hiruzen, however, saw much more than raw strength. This wasn’t a show of power. It wasn’t a slip of control. It was a decration, a demonstration, and a warning all at once. A decration of his resolve, a demonstration of his growth and potential. And a warning about not going against his goal.

  Inside, Hiruzen couldn’t help but smile at the fervor before him. Despite his struggles, Ando still carried the bite of his convictions. All Hiruzen needed was to ensure the boy fully understood the gravity of his actions—that he wouldn’t abandon everything in a blind pursuit of vengeance.

  “… I see.” Hiruzen leaned back slightly, fingers steepling together. “Revenge.”

  “And justice.” Ando interjected.

  A soft chuckle escaped Hiruzen as he shook his head. “You sound just like someone I once knew.”

  He paused briefly, picking up his pipe and rolling it thoughtfully between his fingers. “He was a man consumed by vengeance—a man who believed he could walk the fine line between justice and hatred.”

  Ando offered no reply, but the subtle tightening around his eyes spoke volumes. Hiruzen sensed that the implications of his words unsettled the young man. Determined to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory, he pressed on.

  “Ando,” Hiruzen said, meeting his gaze squarely. “I am sorry…I failed you. I should have protected you, just as I do all my vilgers.” His grip on the pipe tightened imperceptibly. “You were taken, and for two long years, you suffered while I did nothing.”

  Taking a deep breath, Hiruzen continued, “I won’t ask for your forgiveness. But tell me, what will you do after you kill Orochimaru?”

  Ando opened his mouth to answer—when the doors suddenly burst open. A shinobi appeared at the threshold.

  “Hokage-sama!” the shinobi reported urgently. “We detected an unusual chakra pulse coming from this room! Are you—”

  His gaze shifted to Ando, and for an instant, the air in the room stilled.

  Hiruzen sighed, “Stand down.”

  The shinobi hesitated before complying, his posture shifting as he said, “Understood.”

  Ibiki smirked quietly, feeling a sense of déjà-vu. “Guess people really don’t appreciate your random chakra bursts.”

  But it seemed like Ando didn’t register his comment. And looking closer, it did not seem like he had paid any mind to the new shinobi either. He didn’t even acknowledge the interruption. His gaze remained locked onto Hiruzen.

  The Hokage had asked a question.

  And now, he had to decide what came after revenge.

  For one, Ando wanted Orochimaru to suffer. He wanted to strip the man’s soul out and torture it for the rest of his days. He wanted the man to burn in the deepest pit of hell, and suffer there. Ando might join him there too, just to spectacle.

  But at the same time, he knew, that would not be enough. After getting his revenge. He had to do something. He couldn’t just do that for the rest of his days.

  It would be boring.

  Perhaps, he would hire other people to take turn and find creative ways to make the man suffer. But beyond that, what was he going to do?

  It’s not like he could build his life around that single goal. That could work, but that would not be fun either.

  Hiruzen exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair, watching Ando with something far deeper than simple scrutiny. His face, lined with years of experience, softened.

  “There is life before and after revenge, Ando.”

  Ando stopped brainstorming and looked back at the hokage.

  “You can let revenge drive you. Let it push you forward. But don’t forget to live, too.”

  The words settled into the space between them.

  Ando’s fingers flexed slightly at his sides. “Life?” he repeated, voice ft. “Right. I do want to live. But as for what kind of life I’ll have… what do you mean by live?”

  Hiruzen let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “A fair question.”

  He gestured toward the window, where the ruins of Konoha stretched beyond them—the half-destroyed buildings, the workers rebuilding homes, the vilgers still moving forward.

  “Konoha lost a great deal in the Sky Vilge’s attack,” Hiruzen said. “Homes. Lives. Friends. Families.” His voice was calm but carried an undeniable weight. “We have every reason to hate our enemies. To want revenge.”

  Ando’s gaze flickered toward the window, watching the vilgers at work.

  “They could have let their grief consume them,” Hiruzen continued. “Let their anger fester. But they didn’t. They chose to keep moving forward. They grieve, they rebuild, and yes, they will remember those they lost. And if the time comes, they will fight again.”

  “But they do not let revenge be the only thing they live for.”

  Ando remained silent. The vilgers outside were not just rebuilding their homes. They were ughing. Talking. Holding their children’s hands. Living, even after all they had suffered.

  After two years under Orochimaru, Ando had nearly forgotten that people could live like that. No, it’s not that he forgot. He overlooked it.

  Hiruzen watched him carefully. “You say you want to kill Orochimaru,” he said. “You say you want him to suffer. That may be your path.” His fingers tapped against the desk. “But what happens after?”

  Ando stared at him, his lips pressing into a thin line. Beyond Orochimaru’s suffering, he had no answer.

  Hiruzen sighed, nodding as if he expected that. “Then let’s help you find one.”

  Ando’s eyes narrowed slightly. “How?”

  The Hokage leaned forward, as if he was waiting for that question all along. “You will stay in the vilge. See it with your own eyes. Not as the orphan you once were. Not as the captive Orochimaru twisted. But as someone who must decide where he stands.”

  Ando didn’t react, but his silence wasn’t rejection.

  “You will work with the reconstruction teams,” Hiruzen continued. “Your chakra reserves are higher than most. You can help.”

  Ando tilted his head slightly. “You want me to rebuild houses?”

  “I want you to see for yourself what it means to live, even after tragedy.”

  Ando exhaled through his nose, considering. He had almost no attachments here. No reason to stay. And yet… He also had nowhere to go. Coming after Orochimaru now meant nothing. He wasn’t on the level of the sannin yet. And the vilge offered quite a number of ways to strengthen its tenants. Ando has seen it for himself during his academy days.

  If the Hokage wanted him to live like the others, to see their way of thinking… perhaps it wouldn’t be a waste of time to try. He too, wanted to see. He wanted to feel what he felt back in the academy again. He wanted the joy of struggle and triumph.

  Having come to a decision, he gave a small nod towards the hokage. “Alright.”

  Hiruzen’s smile grew slightly. “Good.”

  ****************************************************************************

  The midday sun hung high in the sky as Ando stood among the workers, watching as shinobi and civilians worked side by side.

  His assignment was simple. He just had to use his chakra to shape the earth and create brick and other tools, help reinforce damaged structures, and assist in clearing debris.

  The reality of it was… different. Ando wasn’t used to working in a group. Not like this. He was used to structured objectives, survival-based reasoning, not… helping.

  But as he pressed his hand against the ground, shaping the earth to stabilize the foundation of a half-colpsed building, he felt no resistance. His chakra control was precise, and the job was easy.

  “Damn,” one of the shinobi muttered beside him. “That’s some impressive control.”

  Ando acknowledge the praise with a single nod. Then he simply moved to the next structure.

  It was repetitive, simple work. But it let him observe. The workers ughed despite their exhaustion. Civilians helped shinobi without hesitation. The vilge, despite being wounded, was alive.

  And looking down at his own hands. Ando knew, despite not feeling the same things as them.

  He was part of it.

  ****************************************************************************

  He sensed her before he saw her.

  A sharp, familiar presence cutting through the air, fast and direct. A kunoichi moving with the speed of a trained fighter, heading straight toward him.

  Ando turned just in time to see a blur of movement, and then impact.

  Chika hit him like a force of nature, her arms wrapping around him so tightly it almost knocked the breath from his lungs. Ando stiffened, his body instinctively preparing to retaliate, but he didn’t feel pain.

  The girl didn’t hurt him. She just held him.

  Ando bugged for a while. Then, remembering common sense, his arms slowly embraced her form.

  “You’re alive,” she whispered.

  Ando didn’t respond immediately. His mind still processing a long-forgotten sensation—the warmth of another person pressed against him. Something settled deep in his chest, something solid, something good.

  He liked it. And an awkward smile struggled its way into his lips in response.

  “… Yeah,” he murmured. “I am.”

  Chika exhaled sharply, her grip tightening for a moment before she finally pulled back. Her eyes, sharper than before, scanned his face, searching for something.

  Ando studied her as well.

  She’d grown. She was taller than he remembered, her features sharper, more defined. Her dark hair was now tied into a ponytail that reached her shoulders. There was a new confidence in the way she moved, an edge to her presence that he hadn’t felt before.

  She wasn’t the same girl from two years ago. But then again, neither was he.

  Then, without warning, she smacked his arm—not hard, but enough to make a point.

  “You idiot,” she muttered.

  One of Ando’s brows arced up. “Why?”

  “Because you were gone for two years and didn’t even bother to die properly so I could mourn you.”

  Something warmed up in Ando’s heart. He recognized the humor attempt. He tilted his head slightly. “Would that have been better?”

  Chika let out a huff of frustration before rolling her eyes. “No, but at least then I wouldn’t have been waiting like an idiot.”

  After a brief pause, Ando offered a small nod. “Fair enough.”

  “Tch. You’re still weird,” she scoffed.

  Ando didn’t argue.

  With a resigned sigh, Chika stepped back. “Come on.”

  Ando blinked. “Where?”

  Chika smirked slightly, her old energy shining through. “You’re helping rebuild the vilge, right?” She turned on her heel, walking ahead without waiting. “Don’t sck off. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Ando stared after her for a moment before following. For the first time in a long time, he wouldn’t be moving forward alone.

  AN: And with that, the first part of our story comes to a close. As always, thanks for reading, and see ya!