Senju Hashirama scowled as he scribbled his name onto yet another form and stamped it. The absolute worst thing about being the leader of a ninja village wasn't sending men and women to their deaths like he'd been doing since he'd become head of the Senju clan or mediating between the Uchiha and the Hyuuga or the Uchiha and the Nara and the Uchiha and...Just about everybody else, come to think of it. The absolute worst thing about being the leader of a ninja village was the paperwork.

The Daimyo needed updating. Expenses needed tracking. Village resources needed tallying. Mission payments needed dispersing. Mission reports needed checking. While there was an administrative staff that did most of the work, it all needed to be reviewed and signed off on by the Hokage before it was either filed in an appropriate archive or carted to the Daimyo who also had masses of paperwork to deal with himself in a secure and highly guarded shipment.

He didn't know how, but it looked like the paperwork had been breeding since he'd gone off to...wherever it was he had been. He didn't recall there being even half this much paperwork on his busiest days.

Picking up a report on an outpost on the border of Wind country, he quickly scanned it, looking for any potentially worrying anomalies that would necessitate sending a team to investigate. Seeing none, he scrawled his signature on the form, grabbed his stamp, dropped it in ink, firmly stamped the report and set it aside with the rest of the completed paperwork.

As Hashirama worked through the massive pile of paperwork on his desk, the sky began to lighten and the sun began to rise. As the sun rose, an old man entered his office completely unannounced, completely bypassing seals on his office door that were meant to prevent such. An old man in familiar looking robes who was irritatedly puffing on a pipe.

"Naruto," the old man said, sounding like a parent who'd caught an unruly child with their hands in the candy dish. "Exactly what do you think you're doing to my paperwork?"