The Conqueror of The Shinobi World

Sage of Six Paths

Warning: This Story has Council Bashing and A little Konoha Bashing.

"Any man who says 'I am the King' is not True King" - Tywin Lannister

The sun blazed bright gold through the open windows of the Hokage's office. Summer warmth threaded its way even into the deep ravines of Sarutobi's wrinkled hands, easing the aches of worn joints and the onset of arthritis. Though he was faced with a mountain of paperwork three hours high, the Sandaime Hokage of Konohagakure spared a moment for the joy of a summer afternoon. He breathed in the scent of heated earth and leaves, a faint tinge of wood smoke, a whiff of compost. Even the sounds of his village floated upon the gentle breeze: a laugh here, the clatter of a cart there. A light rap on his office door. "Come in," he called out, straightening the official hat where it lay, abandoned, on his desk.

A tall man slid into the room, moving as if neither gravity's decree nor the limitations of joints and bones applied to him. The handle of a sword protruded from behind one shoulder.

"Hokage-sama is Naruto", the ANBU spoke, and the third flinched before immediately leaving through the window.

Earlier

The streets of Konoha were crowded this morning as people returned from work and families went out for dinner. The murmurings of the crowd and its footfalls were loud as they were carried over the rooftops.

In a small ally, a little nook of isolation, sat a young boy of five or six staring out at the crowd with a pair of sad-looking blue eyes. He had a home of sorts. A small apartment where he lived alone.

But he didn't like it much there. Sitting on his bed alone and in silence was unbearable for him. For some reason, he preferred to sit as he was now. He was watching and listening to the crowd of people from a distance.

Sometimes he would walk in the crowd pretending he was one of them. He would have switched places with any of them if he could. If he walked next to someone for a bit, he could almost imagine he wasn't alone. But the look in the eyes of the crowd when he was out in the open was just as bad as being alone in its own way.

Those eyes made him feel cold, and the warmth people had just shown on their faces drained away when they noticed his presence. It felt as though he had done something wrong, but he could never guess as to what it was.

Even now, as he sat watching, a few people passing by would notice him, and he could instantly feel the chilling effect of their impersonal eyes.

He ducked his head into his arms to avoid them. It was his only defence.

"What are you doing in there all by yourself?"

The boy looked up quickly, surprised by the kindness in the man's voice. It was an older man with greying hair at the temples who had spoken. His face held a pleasant smile. The kind of which the boy had often seen but never actually received.

Words escaped the blond child in this unfamiliar situation. He merely just looked on as the man took a few steps into the ally so he could get a better look at the child in the dim light.

"Are you alone? What's your..." the man stopped in mid-step, recognising the boy.

The smile vanished from his face, and his jaw took a hard line as he struggled internally.

The boy felt the chill crawl into his heart as he saw the kindness and warmth dissipate before him. Again he wondered why.

The man took a step back, his eyes clouding, "It's you... I hope you feel every pain you brought to this village..."