Naruto: The Senju After the Age of Gods Chapter 231: Hikaru’s Plan

Ti passed quickly.

Konoha was, in the end, a war machine that never stopped rolling forward. It would never halt simply because of one or two incidents.

Under the dual pressure of Root and ANBU shaping the narrative, the impact of Orochimaru’s defection had, with so difficulty, passed its most dangerous stage.

But at its core, this war of public opinion had been nothing more than both sides flinging filth at each other.

On Root’s side, they had worked hard to steer the villagers toward one conclusion: that ANBU bore the greater share of responsibility.

After all, the only real achievent ANBU could point to was Hikaru defeating Orochimaru and recovering Uchiha Itachi.

In every other respect, they had failed to detect Orochimaru’s actions in advance, allowing him to strike the Uchiha with shocking ease.

And when Orochimaru fled, ANBU had likewise failed to take any truly effective action.

That line of attack left many within ANBU feeling guilty, especially Kakashi, who had been chiefly responsible for tracking the matter.

He kept thinking that if Orochimaru had not moved on the exact day he was on leave, then he would have known far earlier—and none of this would have happened.

Hikaru, however, had reassured him more than once.

Because if anyone truly deserved bla, it was Hikaru himself.

In the final analysis, Orochimaru’s success had only been possible because Hikaru had opened the road for him. Without Hikaru’s help, there was no way that man could have reached this point.

Even Uchiha Fugaku losing one eye was, strictly speaking, Hikaru’s handiwork.

Orochimaru had nearly knelt before Fugaku in defeat. The power of the Mangekyō Sharingan was no joke.

It could be said that from beginning to end, Hikaru had inserted himself into the whole affair, and that was what had led to the outco now before them.

After calming Kakashi down, Hikaru naturally launched a counterattack of his own.

He had never been the sort to stand still and let others hit him.

Since Root, under Danzō’s direction, had begun saring ANBU, Hikaru simply started saring both Danzō and Hiruzen Sarutobi in return.

Interestingly enough, although Danzō had returned to power, he had done so carrying a certain amount of infamy on his back.

After all, the village was now full of rumors that Danzō had once been involved in the attempt to assassinate Hiruzen, and the damage those whispers did to him was anything but light.

From that, Hikaru drew one rather amusing conclusion:

the people around Hiruzen were hardly as united as they liked to appear.

Then again, that was only natural.

Danzō had caused far too much trouble. The fact that Hiruzen had allowed him back at all was already a helpless compromise.

But letting him return did not an he could do so free of cost.

If he wanted his authority back, he had to pay for it.

And as far as balancing power went, Hiruzen had always done a fairly good job.

Danzō returning under the stench of being an "assassin" effectively ant he had already reached the ceiling of his political future.

If he wanted to climb even one step higher, all of Konoha would stand against it.

"Letting an ’assassin’ return so he can show off his own broad-mindedness, while letting Orochimaru escape so he can show off how sentintal he is..." Hikaru thought with a cold inward laugh. "I really don’t know whether I should say he thinks too highly of himself, or whether he’s simply too optimistic."

Naturally, Hikaru did not let such an opening go to waste. He struck straight at the sorest parts of both Danzō and Hiruzen.

For example—

Hiruzen had grown old. So old that he no longer cared for reality. So old that he had let Orochimaru go despite everything Orochimaru had done.

And he had also allowed Danzō back, despite the fact that this man had once dared to attack the Hokage himself.

If Danzō had dared to do that, then why would he not dare sothing worse?

For instance, colluding with Orochimaru?

Rumors did not always need to be direct. Sotis it was better for them to linger in the murk between certainty and doubt.

Though Hikaru had not studied journalism in his previous life, he had still heard enough—and growing up in a world surrounded by dishonest dia had taught him more than enough about double standards and leading narratives.

So under his guidance, both sides ended up trading blows back and forth.

But only to that extent.

To push any further would have been difficult. The cost in manpower and resources would have been too high.

And neither side truly wanted to throw Konoha into chaos.

So reaching this point was enough.

Hikaru, for his part, was satisfied with the outco.

After all, they were facing the Hokage’s side. They still held enormous power.

ANBU could only hold its ground because Hikaru himself had perford flawlessly, and because Hiruzen’s handling of this affair had genuinely disappointed many people.

Still, this entire episode reminded Hikaru of sothing important.

As a transmigrator, he knew better than most how valuable control of public opinion could be.

Before, he had neither the resources nor the strength to build sothing in that area.

Now, that was no longer true.

Which ant—

it was ti to do sothing.

Sothing like establishing a propaganda office that belonged to him, and to ANBU.

Strictly speaking, for ANBU to set up its own propaganda arm was not exactly within the rules.

But Hikaru and Hiruzen had long since ceased to be people walking the sa road, so he was not particularly bothered by that.

Of course, if Hikaru could do it, then Hiruzen’s side could do the sa. Just as ANBU had expanded, Root could expand as well.

But Hikaru was not worried.

He refused to believe that soone from the modern world would lose a contest of propaganda to people from this one.

"So... you really an to go through with this?"

Inside the ANBU office, the three squad commanders, the senior secretaries from the secretariat, and the managent personnel from the Political Affairs Division were all gathered around the sa table.

These were the highest-ranking people in ANBU—the n and won who oversaw its major branches.

They all stared at Hikaru in confusion.

To be fair, once things escalated to this point, they had all expected so form of retaliation from their Minister.

What none of them had expected was for him to decide that ANBU needed its own propaganda departnt.

Though none of them had ever worked with such a thing before, the na itself—combined with this recent battle of rumors with Root—was enough for them to roughly understand what the organization would be used for.

But that only made them more doubtful.

To create such a departnt simply to oppose the Third Hokage’s camp?

Those who remained in ANBU after all this ti were, more or less, already standing firmly behind Hikaru.

Kakashi and a few others followed him without hesitation.

Many of the rest, however, still felt conflicted.

They knew perfectly well that this Minister—and likely the future Hokage after him—was on terrible terms with the Third.

Getting dragged into a Hokage-level power struggle was not sothing they relished.

Unfortunately, that was no longer their choice.

At this point, the only thing they could do was help Hikaru win.

If he lost, their own future would not be pleasant.

Because of that, they wanted ANBU to grow stronger and to spend its money where it mattered.

And to many of them, building a propaganda office felt like a waste of funds.

Yet Hikaru’s attitude left them helpless.

He had clearly set his mind on doing it.

"I know so of you are worried," Hikaru said, sweeping his gaze across the room. "And I imagine many of you think this propaganda office is just a waste of money. Am I right?"

Aside from Kakashi, who looked as though he could not care less, most of the others lowered their heads slightly, clearly preoccupied.

They did not approve of the idea.

But neither could they openly oppose Hikaru.

His prestige had already been firmly established during his ti as Minister.

In daily life he was warm, almost like the sun itself—bright, warm, and approachable.

But that warmth did not an people could casually challenge him, especially not when he was discussing sothing important.

He would listen to suggestions. He treated others well. But he was still the Minister.

Ignore that, and "warmth" could quickly turn into sothing rather more frightening.

"In truth, there is no need to worry so much," Hikaru continued. "Let ask all of you sothing. In a shinobi battle, aside from raw strength, what is the most important thing?"

"Information."

The answer ca almost at once.

Even those from the secretariat and Political Affairs Division were still shinobi at heart. None of them would misunderstand the importance of intelligence.

But what did intelligence gathering have to do with propaganda?

Surely Hikaru did not an they should simply spread false information to the enemy?

That would be absurd. The enemy was not stupid.

"Good. So all of you understand that clearly."

Hikaru nodded.

"Then let ask sothing else. Aside from information, are there any other ways for us to win more easily?"

"Apart from intelligence...?" Aya had been listening closely. Now she looked up at Hikaru and asked, "Minister, do you still an this propaganda office?"

"Yes."

Hikaru smiled. Though his mouth was partly hidden behind his folded hands, the warmth in his voice was unmistakable.

"You are all making one key mistake. This propaganda office is not ant only for use inside Konoha."

"Propaganda is sothing that works hand in hand with intelligence."

"Let give you an example. Suppose Sunagakure wants war with us. If they want war, then naturally they must mobilize their people."

"At that point, our propaganda can beco a very interesting weapon."

"This ti Danzō tried to stain us, and we answered in kind."

"But imagine the sa thod applied elsewhere. If Suna wants war and we do not want that war, then we can use publicity to magnify the possible costs of conflict, and reinforce those fears with examples from the past. We can erode their will before the battle even begins."

"On the other hand, if their war benefits us, then propaganda can push them into a corner where they cannot withdraw easily."

"To control public opinion does not rely an controlling opinion within our own village."

"It ans controlling the opinions of other villages as well."

"Only then can we guide them, influence them, and steer them toward outcos that benefit us."

Hikaru spoke lightly.

But to those listening, it felt as if an entirely new door had been kicked open before their eyes.

Everyone in the room stared at him blankly.

A childish exchange of slander between two internal factions—a village rumor war, nothing more—and this was what their Minister had drawn from it?

Even Kakashi, who had cared little for such matters until now, found himself pulled into the discussion despite still regretting the timing of Orochimaru’s move.

As a shinobi, he understood imdiately what such an idea could an.

If what Hikaru described truly beca reality, then the destructive power of such a weapon against other villages would be almost impossible to asure.

Aya and Saya were even quicker to grasp the deeper possibilities.

Through controlled ssaging, they could shape how other villages perceived Konoha in peaceti.

And if they could shape those perceptions, then in ti they could reshape Konoha’s entire external environnt.

Even if they were not yet strong enough to implent the full idea, there were already smaller, more practical ways it could be used.

"If we take your example with Sunagakure," Saya said, her voice still gentle, though excitent had clearly entered it, "then if we went to war with them, couldn’t we also use that propaganda to influence other villages?"

"For instance," Aya picked up imdiately, "we could make Iwagakure believe Sunagakure will fail and gain nothing. Then instead of hoping to profit from attacking Konoha, they might prepare to carve sothing out of Suna’s losses instead."

That one exchange lit the entire room.

At once, everyone’s thinking seed to sharpen.

If Hikaru pushed this idea to its full scale, then it could beco an entirely new form of warfare.

A war of public opinion.

A thod of manipulating a foreign village’s beliefs, emotions, and choices—its civilians, its shinobi, even its leadership.

Under the right conditions, it could produce astonishing results.

And when viewed that way, the benefits plainly outweighed the costs.

This would not rely help ANBU.

It would help all of Konoha.

"Still," one of the Nara shinobi from Political Affairs rubbed his forehead and spoke up carefully, "the expense would be severe."

"I agree with the Minister’s thinking. But beyond cost, it would also require substantial manpower. We may have the personnel in theory, but expansion will still be difficult."

"The idea is excellent, but how exactly are we supposed to implent it?"

"Within the village, perhaps it is manageable. But in other villages? We cannot simply enter them at will."

"That," Hikaru said with a smile, "is another place where all of you are trapped by assumptions."

"Who said we need only shinobi for this?"

"We can hire civilians."

"Civilians?"

That suggestion made nearly everyone in the room frown.

ANBU affairs were not ordinary matters.

This propaganda project had enormous importance. To let ordinary villagers—people with no resistance to interrogation, no military training, no experience in secrecy—work in such an area sounded suicidal.

But despite their doubts, they stayed quiet.

Hikaru’s authority had been too firmly established. No one present was willing to challenge him rashly.

"Yes. Civilians."

Hikaru smiled and tapped the table lightly.

"That is why I say you are trapped in a misunderstanding."

"Yes, this plan needs manpower and money."

"But it also possesses a very interesting characteristic—self-sustainability."

"Why not build an institution devoted to reporting, publicity, and information of all kinds?"

"We can produce materials the villagers care about—news, stories, entertaining pieces, even dramatic accounts of ANBU shinobi risking their lives to protect Konoha. Assassinations, infiltration, hidden missions, heroism in darkness."

He paused, then added with almost playful calm:

"We could even insert certain lines here and there. Sothing like... We work in darkness to serve the light. All is illusion. All is permitted."

His tone remained easy, but those words made more than a few people sit up straighter.

"The point is simple. We create content that interests people. While they read it, enjoy it, and grow attached to it, the material quietly shapes how they think."

"We make them feel you are admirable. That you are trustworthy. That you are powerful. We make them want to join you. To approach you. To believe in you."

He stopped there on purpose.

And by now, everyone was beginning to understand.

What Hikaru proposed was, stripped to its core, very simple.

dia.

Mass communication.

Printed reports, serialized stories, opinion-shaping narratives.

A written dium that could gently guide thought, day after day, until people reached the conclusions you wanted them to reach of their own accord.

It was a slow rain that soaked the earth before anyone noticed they were standing in water.

And for a world without an information network, without mass communication as modern people knew it, this was a devastating kind of advantage.

Not only that—if managed well, it could also generate money.

A great deal of it.

"So this institution can absolutely be staffed by civilians," Hikaru continued. "That also ans jobs for Konoha’s people."

"We only need shinobi in the most critical positions—editing, oversight, narrative direction, placent."

"We decide what is emphasized and what is diminished."

"We can place the ugly material at the front, then dismiss it with a single mild sentence at the end. That alone will mislead many people."

"We can define in advance what our hired writers are allowed to write, what must be avoided, what should be emphasized, and what should be trimd."

"In that way, public opinion will rest firmly in our hands."

"And naturally, what we produce will not be free."

"We need revenue to maintain the institution."

"But the price cannot be too high, or we will lose readers."

"Now think one step further. If our publication grows influential enough, then what would happen if we invited rchants to advertise in it?"

"If the results are good, would they not begin competing for those spaces? Would they not pay more and more for placent?"

"And once that happens, our institution not only sustains itself, but begins generating profit enough to expand into other villages."

By the ti Hikaru finished, the room had gone nearly numb with shock.

These were all intelligent people.

Each of them could follow a line of thought from one point to another, even into multiple domains.

But always within the world they knew.

Within shinobi logic.

Not from comrce, to intelligence, to ideology, to warfare.

What Hikaru had laid out was a mode of thinking they simply did not possess.

He had taken things that barely seed connected and bound them into one structure, one system, each part strengthening the others.

That was the part they found hardest to comprehend.

After a long silence, one of them finally let out a breath.

"I see no reason not to do this," a Political Affairs shinobi said quietly.

"I agree," one of the secretariat staff added at once. "If this succeeds, it will benefit both ANBU and Konoha trendously."

"I support it."

"I support the Minister’s proposal."

"I support the Minister."

In an instant, the entire room erupted with agreent.

They had been won over completely.

Who could have imagined that from one petty exchange of rumors inside the village, Hikaru would derive sothing with such far-reaching value for all of Konoha?

Hikaru himself, however, remained calm.

To him, this was only natural.

He had brought the mory and knowledge of another world with him.

If he could not use even that much, then his previous life had truly been wasted.

"I may not know how to make gunpowder, refine copper, or mass-produce glass," he thought with faint amusent, "but the things I did learn still matter."

"Who says transmigrators must be engineers to have the advantage?"

"Yes, soone with technical expertise might industrialize the whole world and rise faster."

"But I didn’t transmigrate into ancient history, either."

While the machinery of ANBU was set in motion beneath Hikaru’s leadership, in the forest behind the Uchiha compound, a lone boy stood beneath the trees.

Targets had been placed all around him, many in impossible dead angles where an ordinary throw should never reach.

A cool wind passed through the forest, stirring the leaves into a soft rustling.

One leaf drifted down from a branch overhead.

In that instant—

the boy moved.

His body leapt upward.

Midair, he twisted, and his eyes flashed scarlet.

As they shifted left and right, every target entered his vision.

Both hands moved at once.

Kunai flew in multiple directions toward multiple targets—

and then a stunning thing happened.

Several of them collided midair, split apart, changed direction, and shot into the dead angles where the hidden targets waited.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

The boy landed at the sa mont as the falling leaf.

He raised his head and began checking the results.

Every frontal target had been struck cleanly through the center.

He gave a small nod.

That much no longer ant much to him. Those front-facing targets had been easy for so ti now.

With a cold, almost expressionless face, he walked on to inspect the targets hidden in the dead angles.

This ti, the sight before him finally softened his features a little.

The targets he had never once managed to hit before—

had all been struck dead-center.

This thod of throwing, in which two kunai collided midair and changed one another’s path, was an absurdly technical skill.

Even in Konoha, very few people could truly master it.

Even among jōnin, only a handful could do so.

Of course, to most shinobi, a kunai was just a tool for killing. Accuracy was enough.

To obsess over such extre throwing techniques was a mark of a fanatic.

Most people would rather spend that ti learning two more ninjutsu.

And yet this grotesquely difficult style had now been mastered by a child only six or seven years old.

"So this is the Sharingan," the boy murmured. "What a frightening power."

Within his scarlet eyes, a single tomoe turned slowly.

For a child his age to awaken such eyes could not be described with the word "genius" alone.

He lifted his head slightly.

Sunlight fell across his face, revealing it clearly.

Uchiha Itachi.

The greatest prodigy of the Uchiha after Uchiha Madara’s era and before Sasuke’s.

The one who, in another future, would destroy the Uchiha with his own hands and then shape Sasuke’s fate according to his will.

Hikaru himself had likely never expected that by attacking Fugaku before the boy’s eyes—and by personally wounding Fugaku and tearing out one of his eyes—he would push Itachi so hard that the boy awakened the Sharingan then and there.

To Itachi, however, this was no blessing.

If he could have avoided awakening those eyes, he would have.

The pain of that awakening had been beyond words.

More than anything, he would have preferred to see his father defeat Orochimaru and that mysterious masked enemy—

not end as he had, with one eye gone and his spirit visibly dimd.

With a quiet sigh, Itachi turned his thoughts away from regret.

The past could not be changed.

But people could.

The humiliation his father had suffered—

he would reclaim it himself.

And Fugaku’s condition had frightened Sasuke badly as well.

That was why Itachi was pushing himself so rcilessly.

He had to grow stronger.

As a son.

As an older brother.

He had to shoulder all of this.

He had to beco strong enough to face Orochimaru and that other man himself.

Even if he knew he was still far from that point.

After all, his father had been so strong and still lost.

And Itachi himself had been taken away.

If not for that ANBU Minister, he might already have beco nothing more than experintal material in one of Orochimaru’s hidden labs.

"ANBU..." Itachi murmured softly. "If only I could join them."

Then he bent down and began gathering the kunai and targets into the bag he had brought with him.

"That’s enough for today," he told himself. "I’ll continue tomorrow."

He had packed only half his things when his expression changed.

A kunai appeared in his hand instantly.

His scarlet eyes, with their single tomoe, turned toward one side of the forest.

"Who’s there?" he called coldly. "Co out."

"Not bad," a masked figure stepped out from the shadow behind the trees. "You’ve improved quite a bit."

Itachi stared, then seed to realize sothing.

For the first ti in a while, excitent touched his face.

"Is that you?" he asked softly. "Shisui?"

"Strictly speaking, admitting it is the wrong thing to do..." the figure sighed. Then he removed his mask. "But yes. It’s ."

"Shisui."

"It really is you!"

At once, the light in Itachi’s face beca unmistakable.

They had beco friends long ago.

Though there was a noticeable age difference between them, that had never mattered.

But over half a year ago, Shisui had suddenly vanished.

And whenever he did appear, he was secretive.

No matter how Itachi asked, Shisui would never explain where he had gone, or what exactly he was doing now.

It had left Itachi frustrated, but with no way to press further.

Now, however, he seed to understand.

Shisui had entered ANBU.

The sa ANBU that had saved him.

Still, Itachi recovered his composure quickly.

He looked serious again.

"Shisui... are you sure this is alright?"

"I know what you an," Shisui said with a small wave of his hand. "It’s troubleso, yes. But as long as nothing is said aloud, it’s manageable."

Then his expression shifted, becoming more serious.

"I really didn’t expect you to awaken the Sharingan this soon. That’s incredible."

"If I had the choice, I’d rather never have awakened it."

Itachi sighed, then looked directly at him.

"Why did you co?"

"I know what happened to the Clan Head has been hard on you," Shisui said. "So I want to help you."

"Help ?"

"That’s right."

Shisui nodded firmly.

"I’m going to train you the ANBU way."

"It’ll be brutal."

"Can you accept that?"

"The ANBU way..."

Itachi’s eyes sharpened at once.

"There could be nothing better."

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