Chapter no.2 Roots of Hatred

Iruka Umino adjusted his flak jacket nervously as he approached the Jōnin Hall in the Hokage Tower, its grand double doors framed by two silent ANBU operatives. The Hokage’s sudden summons had sent a ripple through the academy staff, and Iruka could still hear the murmurs of confusion and unease in the corridors of the school as he’d left.

The ANBU’s presence wasn’t unusual in the tower, but seeing them standing openly and guarding the entrance to a room filled with Academy teachers made Iruka’s stomach twist.

As he stepped through the doors, his eyes immediately scanned the hall. The Jōnin Hall wasn’t a place he visited often, reserved as it was for higher-ranked shinobi and strategy meetings. The room was vast, with high ceilings and wooden beams carved with intricate patterns of leaves and vines. A long podium stretched across the front of the room, facing rows of benches arranged in semi-circular tiers. It felt more like a courtroom than a meeting space.

Roughly twenty teachers from the Shinobi Academy had been summoned, filling the rows with subdued conversation. Some instructors fidgeted nervously, others exchanged quiet words, but all shared the same uneasy expressions.

Iruka took his seat near the center of the room, nodding to a few familiar faces as his gaze drifted toward the front. His stomach knotted again as he saw a group of ANBU stationed behind the podium.

“Something big is going on,” murmured one of his colleagues—a woman with short brown hair and a sharp, angular face. “Do you think this has to do with the Academy’s curriculum changes?”

“I don’t know,” Iruka replied honestly, though a sense of dread was already pooling in his chest. His thoughts flitted briefly to Naruto Uzumaki and the boy’s early exam attempt earlier that day.

The door at the far end of the hall opened, and silence fell like a shroud over the room. Hiruzen Sarutobi entered, the Third Hokage’s presence commanding the attention of every shinobi in attendance.

Even without his hat, the old man looked every inch the leader of Konoha. His face was lined with age and wisdom, but his dark eyes were sharp and calculating, scanning the room as though he could read the thoughts of everyone present.

The silence deepened as he reached the podium, gripping its edges lightly with his hands. The air in the hall was thick with tension. Iruka felt his heartbeat quicken.

“Good evening,” Hiruzen began, his deep, steady voice filling the room. “I apologize for the late summons, but the matter at hand is of grave importance. As the instructors responsible for shaping the next generation of shinobi, your duty is one of the most critical in our village. Tonight, however, I am forced to confront an issue that threatens the integrity of that responsibility.”

Murmurs rippled through the room, but the Hokage’s raised hand silenced them immediately.

“I have reviewed disturbing evidence that points to deliberate sabotage within the Academy. Sabotage targeting not just any student, but Naruto Uzumaki—a child already burdened by circumstances beyond his control. If this is true, it is not only a betrayal of your duty as teachers but a betrayal of Konoha itself.”

Iruka stiffened, his breath catching. Around him, he could see similar reactions from his colleagues—widened eyes, sharp intakes of breath, and a few incredulous whispers.

The principal of the Academy, a middle-aged woman with graying hair tied into a tight bun, rose from her seat near the front. She wore the standard instructor uniform, her expression a mix of confusion and indignation.

“Hokage-sama,” she said, “surely there must be some mistake. The instructors at the Academy are dedicated to their duties. Naruto Uzumaki has faced difficulties, yes, but—“

“Enough.”

Hiruzen’s single word cut through the room like a blade. The principal froze, her mouth snapping shut.

“There is no mistake,” the Hokage said. “I have seen enough to know that this is no mere oversight. This is deliberate.”

The weight of his words settled heavily over the room. Iruka felt a cold sweat forming on the back of his neck.

“Hokage-sama, this is absurd! I’ve taught at the Academy for twenty years—I would never harm a student!”

“Why single out Naruto? The boy’s been a troublemaker since day one. Perhaps he’s failing because he refuses to listen, not because of sabotage.”

Iruka noticed the man in the back, his hands trembling as he stared at the floor, as though willing himself to disappear.

The principal stood again, her voice rising. “Hokage-sama, with all due respect, I find it difficult to believe that any of our instructors would engage in such… such treachery. Surely there is another explanation.”

“If that is the case,” Hiruzen said, “then you have nothing to fear. I intend to find the truth tonight.”

As he spoke, two figures stepped forward from the shadows behind him. The first was a man with long, ash-blond hair tied into a spiky ponytail, his light green eyes sharp and assessing. He wore a flak jacket over a black uniform, a red haori draped over his shoulders.

Inoichi Yamanaka, head of the Yamanaka clan and Konoha’s Torture and Interrogation Department.

Beside him stood a larger, more imposing figure—a bald man with a rugged, scarred face and a steely gaze. His Konoha forehead protector covered part of his head, but even so, the burn marks and slashes peeking out were a grim testament to his experience.

Ibiki Morino, Captain of Konoha’s Intelligence Division.

The room grew deathly quiet. Iruka felt a chill run down his spine as the implications of their presence sank in.

“As the Hokage,” Hiruzen said, “I am giving you all a choice. You may submit to a memory search by Inoichi-san… or you may spend an hour with Ibiki-san.”

As Hiruzen finished his ultimatum, the room remained heavy with silence. The weight of his words pressed down on everyone present, and Iruka felt the tension crackling like electricity in the air.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed Mizuki. The man sat stiffly, his hands trembling slightly as they gripped the edge of the bench. Sweat glistened on his brow.

“Mizuki,” Iruka whispered. “You okay?”

Mizuki flinched as though burned. “I—I’m fine,” he muttered, not meeting Iruka’s gaze.

But before Iruka could press further, Mizuki’s chakra flared. The sudden burst of energy made the room lurch, and Iruka’s breath caught in his throat.

“Mizuki!” Iruka shouted, leaping to his feet.

The man bolted, forming a quick seal for the Body Flicker Technique. But before he could vanish, an ANBU operative moved like lightning, her blade slicing cleanly through Mizuki’s neck.

His head hit the floor with a dull thud, rolling to a stop near Iruka’s feet.

For a moment, no one moved.

A part of him still struggled to believe it. Mizuki, the man who had helped him grade papers and joked with him during lunch breaks, was now lying headless on the floor. How could this be real?

The Cat-masked ANBU who had struck stepped back into the shadows, her sword gleaming faintly.

Hiruzen sighed, the sound heavy with disappointment and exhaustion. “Inoichi,” he said, “check that chunin’s memories.”

Inoichi stepped forward without hesitation, his expression unreadable.

Iruka barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on Mizuki’s lifeless body, a cold sense of betrayal spreading through him like poison.

The Hokage’s voice cut through the haze in his mind, calm and unrelenting.

“For those of you who remain… know this: I will not tolerate disloyalty within this village. If there are others among you who share Mizuki’s intentions, I suggest you step forward now. Otherwise, submit to the investigation… or face the consequences.”

Iruka swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. The room remained silent, but the weight of the Hokage’s words hung over them all like a sword.

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The moonlight illuminated the Hokage’s office as Hiruzen Sarutobi leaned back in his chair, exhaling a cloud of smoke from his pipe. The room smelled of ink, parchment, and the faint scent of sandalwood that always lingered in the tower. Before him sat a mountain of papers—the product of hours of grueling investigation—and at the top of the pile were two thick reports, each bound with a single string.

One bore the precise, methodical handwriting of Ibiki Morino. The other carried the more fluid, almost clinical script of Inoichi Yamanaka. Both men had delivered their findings, and together, they painted a grim picture of the Shinobi Academy's failures.

Hiruzen removed his pipe and tapped it lightly against the edge of the ashtray, his thoughts heavy.

“Let’s see,” he muttered, opening Ibiki’s report first.

Ibiki’s Report

Subject: Investigation into Konoha Shinobi Academy Staff

Overview:
The interrogation process revealed significant negligence, willful disregard, and even outright hostility toward Naruto Uzumaki. Many instructors displayed signs of deeply ingrained resentment tied to the Nine-Tails incident nine years ago.

Findings:

Approximately 70% of the Academy staff admitted to ignoring Naruto’s presence in the classroom. While they maintained a façade of professionalism, their negligence was evident in the boy’s academic records and skill progression.

A smaller percentage—approximately 20%—actively undermined the boy, berating him publicly or subtly sabotaging his education. These actions ranged from withholding constructive feedback to deliberately excluding him from group activities.

The remaining 10% either avoided direct contact with the boy entirely or attempted to remain neutral, offering no meaningful support.

Notable Observation:
Interrogations revealed no centralized conspiracy. The instructors acted on their own individual prejudices, largely stemming from fear of the Nine-Tails. This fear, though understandable given the devastation of the Kyūbi attack, has evolved into a dangerous pattern of behavior that undermines Konoha’s integrity and the Will of Fire.

Conclusion:
The staff’s collective actions pose a long-term risk to Naruto’s mental development and Konoha’s security. Their inability to separate Naruto from the Nine-Tails reflects a failure of the shinobi ethos. Left unchecked, this behavior could instill resentment in Naruto and alienate him from the very village he is meant to protect.

Hiruzen closed the report and rubbed his temples. The words “dangerous pattern” lingered in his mind, circling like vultures. He had hoped, foolishly perhaps, that Mizuki would prove to be an isolated case. That some rogue element—maybe a spy or saboteur—was the root of the problem. A clear threat that could be excised with precision.

But this? This was worse.

This wasn’t the work of a single enemy. It wasn’t sabotage from outside forces. It was a sickness from within.

With a heavy sigh, he opened Inoichi’s report next.

Inoichi’s Report

Subject: Psychological Evaluation of Konoha Shinobi Academy Staff

Overview:
Following Ibiki-san’s interrogation sessions, a number of individuals were subjected to forced memory extraction to corroborate their confessions and evaluate their psychological state.

Findings:

Mizuki: Analysis of Mizuki’s memories revealed a connection to Orochimaru. Mizuki had survived one of Orochimaru’s cursed seal experiments, though the specifics of his survival remain unclear. The experiment left him physically intact but mentally unstable, with a desperate need to prove his worth to his former master. Mizuki had been in the early stages of planning to steal the Forbidden Scroll of Seals and deliver it to Orochimaru, though his plan was incomplete at the time of his death. His hatred for Naruto stemmed primarily from fear—fear of the Nine-Tails’ potential and what it represented.

General Staff: Memory extractions confirmed that most staff members harbored lingering resentment toward the Nine-Tails. This resentment, rooted in the trauma of the attack twelve years ago, has been misdirected at Naruto Uzumaki. While some instructors were aware of their bias, others were not, making their actions all the more insidious.

Psychological Concerns:
The pervasive fear and resentment among the Academy staff pose significant risks to Konoha’s future. Allowing such sentiments to fester undermines the village’s unity and perpetuates cycles of hatred. Moreover, Naruto’s continued exposure to this environment is likely to breed mistrust, anger, and isolation—emotions that could manifest in destructive ways, especially given his status as a jinchūriki.

Recommendations:
Immediate intervention is required. Consider reassignment, reeducation, or dismissal of certain staff members. Additionally, Naruto Uzumaki must be removed from the Academy and placed under the guidance of a mentor capable of seeing his true potential.

Hiruzen let the report fall to the desk, his gaze distant. The words “mistrust, anger, and isolation” echoed in his mind, stark and uncompromising. Inoichi’s conclusion only reinforced what Hiruzen already feared: Naruto’s path was a precarious one, and the boy was teetering dangerously close to the edge.

He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling.

What have I done?

For years, Hiruzen had excused the villagers’ behavior. He had told himself that time would heal their wounds, that their hatred would fade as Naruto grew and proved himself. He had trusted the shinobi—the very people sworn to protect Konoha—to rise above their pain and see Naruto for what he truly was: the legacy of Minato and Kushina, a hero in the making.

But he had been wrong.

Has the Will of Fire been extinguished by their hatred?

The phrase felt bitter on his tongue. The Will of Fire—the belief that the village was a family, that every shinobi carried a duty to protect the next generation—had been his guiding principle for decades. It was the philosophy he had passed down to his students, the creed that had shaped Konoha.

And yet, here was the evidence of its erosion, laid bare in two damning reports.

This is my failure.

He had been too trusting, too complacent. He had turned a blind eye when he should have been watching. Perhaps it was his age catching up with him. Perhaps he had grown too soft, too removed from the day-to-day realities of his people.

He sighed, the weight of his years pressing heavily on his shoulders.

Even with the bitter truth staring him in the face, Hiruzen knew he couldn’t simply purge the Academy staff. To do so would destabilize the institution and leave the village scrambling to replace a large portion of its educators. Instead, he had issued strict punishments:

50% of each offending teacher’s salary would be redirected to Naruto’s care and training fund.

All implicated instructors were placed under strict observation, with the promise of harsher consequences should their behavior persist.

But punishment alone wasn’t enough. Naruto needed more.

“The boy needs a teacher,” Hiruzen murmured aloud, his voice barely audible over the crackle of his pipe.

A proper mentor. Someone who could rebuild what the Academy had failed to provide. Someone who didn’t see Naruto as the Nine-Tails or a burden but as the boy he truly was—a boy who could someday surpass even Minato.

The problem was finding such a person.

Hiruzen exhaled slowly, the faint curl of smoke rising toward the ceiling. His mind ran through a list of names—Jōnin, retired shinobi, specialists—but most were unsuitable. Jōnin were already stretched thin as team instructors. Most retired shinobi were either too old or too bitter.

And then, an idea began to take shape.

It was unorthodox. Risky, even. But perhaps… perhaps it could work.

He tapped his pipe against the ashtray once more, the faint embers glowing in the dim light.

“I suppose it’s time to make the call,” he muttered.

And with that, he rose from his chair, the decision cemented in his mind.

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Author’s Note:

Well, who do you guys think is going to be Naruto’s new teacher? Let me give you a hint: it’s not Kakashi or Jiraiya. It’s a side character from Naruto, and they are a very famous teacher.