"It's late. You should all get some rest," Tsunade said at last, bringing the meeting to a close.
Chairs shifted, footsteps stirred—but one man remained where he stood.
Nara Shikaku hesitated, as though caught between speaking and silence.
Tsunade noticed at once. "Shikaku, do you have something else to add?" she asked, her tone carrying a quiet respect. She valued his judgment—after all, he was someone even the old man had chosen.
And the old man's eye for talent, more often than not, had proven right.
"Lady Tsunade," Shikaku began, his voice steady, "I have reason to believe that Sunagakure will resort to unconventional tactics."
At those words, the others halted mid-step, the faint sounds of departure dying before they could fully take shape.
"Go on," Tsunade said, gesturing for him to continue.
"In a direct confrontation, Sunagakure holds no real advantage. We have the terrain of Kikyo Castle in our favor, and time itself works against them—they cannot afford a prolonged war of attrition." He paused, letting the logic settle before pressing on. "Under these conditions, they would never choose a straightforward clash."
His gaze sharpened, as though he were looking beyond the walls of the room, beyond the battlefield itself.
"If I were their commander, I would see only two viable paths. The first would be to weaken the enemy as much as possible—poison, for instance. If successful, it would be devastating."
He exhaled softly. "Yet the medical corps has already ruled that out."
"Of course," he added, a faint crease forming between his brows, "I'm more inclined to believe we simply haven't uncovered their true intent. But without evidence… even I can't determine what they've done."
Without sufficient intelligence, even a mind as sharp as his could not pierce the unknown.
"The second option," he continued, his voice lowering, "would be a decapitation strike—targeting the enemy's command itself."
The audacity of the idea sent a ripple through the room.
"Destroy the brain," Shikaku said quietly, "and the body becomes nothing more than scattered sand—without cohesion, without morale. At that point… how much fighting strength would truly remain?"
A jōnin stepped forward, frowning slightly. "But would Sunagakure really have the resolve for that?" It was Kimura, the deputy commander of Konoha's jōnin corps—an elite shinobi in his own right.
He had fought through the Second Great Ninja War alongside the legendary White Fang, carrying out countless perilous missions and personally cutting down over a hundred Suna shinobi. If Sunagakure kept a list of those marked for death, his name would undoubtedly stand among the highest.
Men like him—those who had survived the crucible of war—understood their enemy well.
And in Kimura's eyes, Sunagakure simply did not possess the depth to stand on equal footing with Konoha, especially not in terms of top-tier combat power.
Here, within Kikyo Castle, stood the very core of Konoha's strength: Tsunade, one of the Sannin; Maruboshi Kōsuke, a disciple of the Second Hokage; the fifteenth generation of Ino–Shika–Chō—Nara Shikaku, Akimichi Choza, and Yamanaka Inoichi—along with two elite jōnin commanders and several corps leaders of considerable strength.
To attempt a decapitation strike against such a force?
How many powerful shinobi could Sunagakure possibly muster for such a mission? And if they could not, how many ordinary jōnin would they be forced to sacrifice to achieve even a fraction of their goal?
Did they truly possess that kind of resolve?
"Senior Kimura, we shouldn't underestimate the enemy," Shikaku said, his tone calm but firm as he addressed the war-hardened veteran. "The very fact that Sunagakure has remained here, continuing to besiege Kikyo Castle, already proves their determination."
"Shikaku," Tsunade said slowly, her voice heavy with a mixture of certainty and unease, "I no longer doubt their resolve to take this city."
She leaned forward slightly, her gaze intent. "But we are here, at the very heart of Kikyo Castle. How could they possibly reach us—how could they strike at us directly?"
They stood at the city's core, shielded by tens of thousands of Konoha troops stationed along the outer defenses. To breach those layers and carry out a decapitation strike seemed, at first glance, impossible.
"Even if they have hawks," one of the corps commanders mused, letting his imagination wander, "those birds aren't large enough to carry people, are they?"
"And if they tried to infiltrate through the rivers," another added, shaking his head, "our surveillance wouldn't miss it. The moment they enter the water systems, the barrier seals would be triggered."
Their defensive network accounted even for threats beneath the surface.
Silence fell once more.
No matter how they turned it over, no further possibilities came to mind.
"The ground."
The two words from Maruboshi Kōsuke seemed to fall with unnatural weight.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Nara Shikaku's eyes sharpened, as though a thread of thought had suddenly been seized. "Senior Kōsuke… you mean—?!"
"We know that Sunagakure has, in the past, constructed large-scale facilities carved directly into rock," Kōsuke said, his tone steady. "If they've applied that same experience here… then it's possible they've tunneled beneath us—straight into the heart of Kikyo Castle."
Someone immediately shook their head. "Those projects were built after the Second Great Ninja War, over long periods of time. They've only been near Kikyo Castle for a short while—it's impossible for them to have dug a tunnel spanning several kilometers in such a timeframe."
The idea bordered on madness.
And yet—
"No," Shikaku said slowly, his voice tightening as the implications unfolded before him. "It is possible. Because we've never conducted reconnaissance in that direction."
The room stilled.
"We already know that Sunagakure's plan to seize Kikyo Castle wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision," he continued. "It was something they prepared for long before the war began."
His words grew heavier with each step of logic.
"So… if the first wave of their forces entering the Land of Fire had already begun this operation… then they've had months."
A chill crept through the room, subtle at first, then unmistakable.
Almost unconsciously, several people glanced down at the ground beneath their feet—the same earth that had always felt solid, dependable.
Now it seemed… uncertain.
Could something as simple as soil truly stand against the determination of an army?
At that moment, Kimura abruptly turned toward the window. His gaze cut across hundreds of meters, narrowing as it fixed upon a lone watchtower rising in the distance.
It was one of the few guard posts within the central district—the closest line of vigilance to their current position.
For the sake of war readiness, Konoha had concentrated most of its manpower and resources along the outer districts. The city center, by comparison, was lightly guarded; even the barrier corps had not deployed detection seals here.
After all—who would have imagined the enemy breaking through this way?
"Senior Kimura?" someone called.
"…Is there still someone at that post?" he asked quietly.
He distinctly remembered catching sight of two figures there earlier in the meeting—two Konoha guards standing watch. But now, with the moonlight withdrawn and darkness thickening, the limits of human vision rendered the tower little more than a silhouette.
Still, the tension in his voice was enough.
Everyone became alert at once.
"I'll send someone to check—and call for reinforcements immediately," one of the corps commanders said, already moving toward the door.
"I'll gather the jōnin corps," Kimura added, striding out after him.
"We'll wait for word," Tsunade said, signaling the others to remain calm.
In truth, no one needed telling.
No one left.
Because by now, every heart in that room was suspended on a single, dreadful thought—
The enemy… might already be beneath their feet.
Then, from just beyond the door, a faint sound broke the silence.
A soft, wet thud.
"—!"
Every head snapped toward the entrance, instincts flaring.
"Kimura?" Ueno Takumi called, his voice low and sharp.
A beat passed.
Then, from the other side of the door, came Kimura's voice—steady, familiar.
"Oh… it's nothing. I'll be back in a moment."
The room fell into a deeper stillness.
They exchanged glances, and in each other's eyes saw the same thing—
Disbelief.
Shock.
Nara Shikaku raised a hand immediately, signaling everyone to hold their positions.
Maruboshi Kōsuke stepped forward, his voice carrying toward the door. "Kimura, wait. I'll go with you."
"…Alright. I'll wait."
Inside the room, steel flashed softly as one after another, they drew their kunai.
Kōsuke moved slowly toward the door—
Toward whatever waited beyond it.
...
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