Naruto: We Agreed on a Simulation, But They Actually Came to Life?

Chapter 70: Chapter 70: Let Me See

Hokage Tower, third floor.

Kitahara Kaede stood outside the office door, straightening his collar. The door was cracked open, and the scent of tobacco wafted from within.

"Come in."

Hiruzen Sarutobi sat behind his desk, a pipe clamped in the corner of his mouth and a document held in his hand. Kaede pushed the door open and stepped inside, coming to a halt.

Hiruzen didn’t speak immediately. He looked down, flipped through a few pages, closed the folder, and then looked up to study the boy for a few seconds.

"The exam results are in."

Hiruzen pushed the document to the center of the desk.

"You lost a few points on the written test; two answers in the general knowledge section weren’t quite accurate. However, your combat performance, trap deployment, and tactical judgment—all perfect scores."

He paused.

"The examiner’s comment was: ’Fights like a veteran of fifty battles, not a fifteen-year-old Genin.’"

Kaede didn’t respond. Hiruzen wasn’t surprised by the silence. He reached into a drawer, pulled out a neatly folded green flak jacket, and placed it beside the documents.

"Put it on and see if it fits."

Kaede picked up the jacket and slipped it on. It was a perfect fit.

Hiruzen leaned back into his chair, switching the pipe to his left hand. His tone became casual, as if they were merely chatting.

"Your file says your parents passed away shortly after you were born."

Despite the casual tone, his gaze remained fixed on Kaede’s face, searching.

"Yes," Kaede replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "I was very young. I don’t remember much."

There was no avoidance, no bowing of the head, and no forced expression.

Hiruzen rotated the pipe halfway between his fingers. He hadn’t asked because he didn’t know; the archives were perfectly clear on the matter. He wanted to see what expression a fifteen-year-old boy would wear when mentioning such a thing.

Most people this age, when speaking of their parents’ death, either suppressed their emotions with sheer will or pretended not to care. This boy was neither.

He had truly processed it.

Hiruzen didn’t know how to feel about a fifteen-year-old who could digest such a tragedy so completely. They had sacrificed themselves for the Hidden Leaf, yet the village hadn’t even taken proper care of their child.

"What are your plans for the future?"

Kaede thought for a moment. "Take missions, make money, stay alive."

Hiruzen bit down on the stem of his pipe. "Young in age, but your goals are practical." He took a puff and exhaled. "You spent five months on the front lines. What is the thing that left the deepest impression on you?"

Kaede’s answer came without hesitation. "On the way back from my first mission... the sun came up beautifully."

Hiruzen’s hand froze mid-air. The office fell silent for several seconds. Slowly, Hiruzen lowered his pipe, his voice softening.

"Kitahara Kaede."

"Yes, Lord Hokage."

"If your parents were still here... they would be very proud to see you wearing that jacket today."

Kaede’s gaze shifted slightly. "Thank you, Lord Hokage."

Hiruzen looked at him but said nothing more. Fifteen years old, and he had honed himself into this... he wondered how many blades the boy had had to endure.

"Starting tomorrow, you may accept B-rank missions and above," Hiruzen said, waving a hand. "You may go. Take care of yourself."

Kaede turned and left. The sound of his footsteps faded down the corridor.

Sitting alone in his chair, Hiruzen relit his pipe. This child’s depths were far greater than what was written in the files. Exactly how deep? He couldn’t tell yet.

He would keep watching.

***

Half an hour later, Tsunade appeared at the end of the third-floor corridor.

She walked with such purpose that the administrative Chunin she passed instinctively pressed themselves against the walls to make way. Today was her day off, but unable to stay cooped up at home, she had come out for some fresh air.

Passing the Hokage Tower, she caught sight of a crowd gathered around the announcement board. Tsunade stepped forward to look and spotted Kitahara Kaede’s name.

It occurred to her that if she could see his full examination records, she might gain a deeper understanding of him.

The office door was suddenly kicked open.

"Old man!"

Hiruzen looked up, and his eyebrows twitched at the sight of Tsunade’s expression. "What is it?"

"The Chunin exam results came out today, didn’t they?"

"They did."

"Give me Kitahara Kaede’s records. Let me see them."

Hiruzen took the pipe from his mouth and set it on the desk. He looked at the student he had watched grow up and remained silent for two seconds.

"Tsunade."

"Hmm?"

"The last time you came into this office, you asked about the ’Hagoromo Clan.’"

Tsunade’s expression stiffened for a moment. Hiruzen’s tone remained measured.

"At the time, I thought you were under too much pressure at work and had simply confused something. I didn’t think much of it." He paused. "And now you’re back, still because of the same person?"

Tsunade opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. After a beat of silence, she crossed her arms and lifted her chin slightly.

"What’s wrong with me checking the data on the village’s newly promoted Chunin?"

Her words were sharp and stubborn, but her eyes were already locked onto the stack of documents on the desk.

Hiruzen stared at her for three seconds. Then, he pulled Kaede’s file from the stack and handed it over, along with Dan Kato’s frontline report.

"Take them."

Tsunade snatched the files and turned on her heel. "I’ll return them when I’m done."

The door slammed shut behind her.

Left alone in the office, Hiruzen let out a rare chuckle. Twice. Twice she had come because of the same name. What on earth was this girl looking for?

***

At the end of the third-floor corridor, by the window.

Tsunade stood there and flipped open the file. The first page contained basic information. She skimmed it and turned the page.

The second page held Dan Kato’s frontline evaluation. Her pace slowed.

*’Exceptional battlefield judgment; capable of making optimal decisions rapidly even with incomplete information.’*

*’Demonstrated stealth and reconnaissance capabilities far exceeding those of a ninja of his rank during solo infiltration missions.’*

*’Combat style is extremely calm; never wastes a movement.’*

Tsunade’s finger stopped on that last line. *Never wastes a movement.*

The person in her dreams had been the same.

She flipped to the exam logs. In the combat section, the examiner’s note was brief:

*’Opponent opened with a side kick. Kitahara Kaede stepped aside, immediately seized the rhythm of the attack, delivered an elbow to the ribs, a knee to the abdomen, and a neck-lock to pin the opponent to the ground. Battle concluded in four seconds. Entirely taijutsu; zero chakra consumption, zero ninjutsu used.’*

As she read those last four words, Tsunade’s hand froze.

*Zero ninjutsu used.*

The person in her dreams—Lightning Style, Chidori, Chidori Sharp Spear. The images of those techniques were as clear in her mind as if she had seen them with her own eyes.

But in this examination record, from start to finish, not a single ninjutsu was mentioned.

Entirely taijutsu.

Tsunade stared at that line for a long time. If this person really was the man from her dreams, why wasn’t he using ninjutsu?

And if he wasn’t—then how could she explain the identical combat style, the high overlap in Dan Kato’s evaluation, and the necklace that had appeared in reality?

She flipped to the final page, the general evaluation.

*’Overall Rating: Excellent. Meets requirements for promotion.’*

Tsunade closed the file and leaned against the window frame. The corridor was empty, save for the distant sound of administrative Chunin walking. Her grip on the file tightened.

With every check, there was another layer of coincidence. And with every layer, she felt more certain that this couldn’t possibly be a fluke.

But the most critical piece was missing.

In her dreams, he was a Lightning Style prodigy who could use high-level Lightning Style ninjutsu from his early teens; it was his most defining trait. Yet in this file, there wasn’t a single word about it.

Tsunade closed her eyes.

It wasn’t enough. She was still missing one piece.

She needed to stand before him, look into his eyes, and hear him speak.

Tsunade turned and walked back down the corridor.

As she passed the office, she paused, pushed open the door, and placed the files back on Hiruzen’s desk.

"Finished?"

"Finished."

Hiruzen gave her a brief glance but asked nothing.

Tsunade stepped out of the Hokage Tower. Her fingers unconsciously brushed the pendant of the necklace tucked inside her collar.

To the left was the way home.

To the right was the direction of Kitahara Kaede’s apartment.

She stood still for three seconds.

Then, she turned left.

After a dozen steps, she stopped.

She looked back at the street to her right. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

She turned back and continued walking.

A few more steps, and she stopped again.

"...How annoying," she muttered under her breath, continuing toward her home.

As she rounded the corner at the street’s end, someone passed by the mouth of an alley across the way.

They wore a green Chunin vest—it looked brand new.

The two of them were separated by a single street, one heading left and the other right.

Neither saw the other.