The sun slanted westward. Dusk approached.
Atop the capital's walls of the Land of Fire, Mitokado Homura stood by the battlements.
The thick stone bricks had long since lost the warmth of the afternoon, now cold to the touch.
All of Homura's attention—along with the heart lodged in his throat—was fixed firmly on the northeastern plain slowly being swallowed by twilight.
Ten kilometers.
Just ten kilometers away.
A suffocating mass of "thunderclouds" loomed there in silence.
Under the dimming golden light, their silhouette appeared even more ominous.
The Kumogakure army had lit scattered campfires. The flickering flames brought no warmth—only the impression of dark red eyes of a lurking beast.
That restrained stillness, refusing to strike, became a blade pressed against the throat as the dusk deepened.
Each passing second grew more unbearable as the sun sank lower.
Homura raised his sleeve, wiping the cold sweat that kept forming on his forehead.
The evening wind carried a chill, yet it could not dry the dampness at his temples.
At this point, no one could guarantee that Kumogakure had come merely to intimidate.
If the Raikage truly broke through the city walls…
The consequences—
Homura dared not imagine them.
'Hiruzen… the sky is about to darken…'
His gaze flicked again and again, almost nervously, toward the southwest—
Toward Konoha.
Toward where reinforcements should appear.
But all he saw was a hazy horizon swallowed by twilight.
'Hiruzen… why haven't you arrived yet?'
'We can't abandon the daimyō!'
The question echoed endlessly in his mind, each repetition weighing heavier than the last.
The daimyō's fury.
The chilling pressure before the throne.
That fleeting glimpse of the Uchiha fan crest—
All of it intertwined, magnified, crushing down on him until he could barely breathe.
Twilight thickened, devouring the land.
Just as his nerves stretched to the breaking point—just as despair threatened to swallow him whole, even pushing him toward thoughts of fleeing—
A sharp voice suddenly tore through the silence from the watchtower.
"Look! Southwest—!"
The cry pierced the stillness like an arrow through fog.
Homura jolted violently, almost springing away from the battlement. His clouded eyes lit up with disbelief as he stared toward the southwest.
There—
At the end of the road, where moments ago there had been nothing—
A massive column of dust surged skyward, tearing through the dim sky.
Then came the sound—
A deep, rumbling thunder, like the pulse of the earth itself.
Growing louder.
Heavier.
An army!
A force moving at astonishing speed, sweeping along the straight official road toward the capital!
The final struggling rays of the setting sun pierced through the upper edge of the dust cloud, outlining the advancing army in blazing gold and crimson.
At the very front—
That unmistakable silhouette.
White robes.
A conical hat.
Radiant, impossible to mistake.
They had come.
Finally—!
"Hiruzen! I knew it! I knew it! You're the Hokage—you wouldn't run like Danzō!"
Homura gripped the cold stone, his knuckles turning white.
He stared at the rapidly approaching dust cloud, at the familiar banner faintly visible within it.
His body, stretched to its limit, trembled violently.
A surge of emotion—ecstasy, lingering fear, and the sudden release of unbearable pressure—rushed to his head, darkening his vision.
He opened his mouth and exhaled a long, trembling breath from deep within his chest.
The blade of "time" hanging above him—
Seemed, at the final moment, to halt.
Without hesitation, Homura planted a hand on the battlement.
Chakra surged beneath his feet.
In an instant, his figure leapt like a grey crane from the towering wall.
His robes flapped violently in the evening wind.
The descent was brief—yet stretched long in his perception.
His eyes locked onto the white figure that had just come to a halt outside the gate.
A few clean flips—
He landed firmly on the packed earth, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
Right before Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Hiruzen stood still, his gaze calm beneath the shadow of his hat.
He looked at his old comrade—breathing heavily, hair slightly disheveled.
At the relief and lingering shock still in his eyes.
No greetings.
No questions.
The Hokage simply leaned slightly forward.
His voice steady as ever—
Yet carrying a faint edge only a veteran would recognize.
"Homura… the feeling of battle…"
"You haven't forgotten it, have you?"
Homura's chest heaved—not from exhaustion, but from the impact of those words.
He straightened his back abruptly.
All his humiliation, anxiety, and frustration—
Was washed away in that moment.
Leaving only pure, blazing fighting spirit.
Like returning to the past.
He grinned—a fierce, exhilarated smile.
"Of course, Hiruzen! These old bones can still swing a blade!"
No further words were needed.
Without waiting for orders, Homura moved.
His body slipped naturally into the ranks behind Hiruzen, finding his place among the elite.
Flawless.
As if he had never left the battlefield.
Seeing this, a faint smile touched Hiruzen's lips beneath his hat—
A mix of satisfaction, trust, and quiet resolve.
But it vanished before reaching his eyes—
"Third Hokage!"
A sharp, hurried voice rang out from the wall above.
A court attendant hurried down the steps, his face pale in the fading light.
He bowed deeply.
"The daimyō commands—Hokage, eliminate Kumogakure immediately!"
The urgency was unmistakable.
Hiruzen's faint smile disappeared.
He did not respond at once.
Instead, he slowly lifted his head.
His gaze passed over the anxious attendant—
Over the shadow of the gate—
As if piercing straight into the daimyō's residence itself.
He raised a hand, calming the subtle stir in his ranks.
The evening wind swept through the gate, carrying dust.
"I understand."
His voice was calm.
"Reply to the daimyō—"
"Hiruzen Sarutobi accepts the command."
"We depart immediately."
"Wait."
Homura stepped forward quickly.
"Hiruzen, your forces have marched three hundred kilometers. They're exhausted."
He glanced at the troops—still standing tall, but unable to hide the fatigue etched into their faces.
"Kumogakure is fresh and waiting."
"If we engage now without rest, we'll be sending weary troops against peak strength!"
His tone was firm.
"Our forces have arrived. That's enough."
"Let them rest briefly—recover some strength. The daimyō wants Kumogakure to retreat, not immediate slaughter."
"You're the commander—you know momentum must be preserved, but also gathered!"
Hiruzen frowned slightly.
He knew Homura was right.
The Jade Guard wasn't composed entirely of high-level shinobi.
After a forced march, their chakra reserves were far from full.
But the daimyō's command…
His gaze lifted once more toward the capital.
Toward that unseen, pressing will.
He weighed the decision.
Then—
Exhaled softly.
"…Pass the order."
"All units—rest in formation on the leeward side of the gate for fifteen minutes."
"Water and soldier pills permitted."
"No armor removed. No formation broken."
"Prepare for battle at any moment."
A faint wave of relief passed through the ranks—
Quickly suppressed as officers barked commands.
The formation shifted efficiently.
The attendant opened his mouth—about to object to the delay—
But when his eyes met Hiruzen's calm, unfathomable gaze—
Every word froze.
He lowered his head, silent.
At the same time—
The arrival of Konoha's reinforcements was detected instantly by Kumogakure scouts.
Ten kilometers away, in the Kumogakure command camp—
The Raikage listened to the report.
Then laughed.
"HAHAHAHA! GOOD!"
"They've finally come! Hiruzen Sarutobi—you didn't make me wait in vain!"
His laughter rolled like thunder across the camp.
He stepped out, gazing toward the capital.
Though distant, the surge of chakra was unmistakable.
"Pass the order."
His tone turned cold, mocking.
"Give Konoha's 'guests' fifteen minutes."
"Let them catch their breath from that three-hundred-kilometer run."
A savage grin spread across his face.
"If we fight—we fight them at their best."
"So no one can say Kumogakure won unfairly!"
"After fifteen minutes—"
His voice rose like a war drum.
Lightning flickered across his body.
"Advance!"
"Crush them!"
"Let the world see—who the strongest village truly is!"
"ROAR—!!!"
The entire camp erupted in a thunderous roar.
Exactly fifteen minutes.
No—slightly earlier.
The war horns of Kumogakure tore through the dusk.
Nearly two thousand shinobi surged forward like unleashed lightning.
No slow advance—
From the moment they moved, it was a full-speed charge.
At the very front—
The Third Raikage.
Wrapped in blazing lightning like a descending god of thunder.
Under the darkening sky—
Lightning and dust painted a violent, merciless scene—
Rushing toward the ancient, decaying city.
As the war horn pierced the dusk—
As the ground trembled like war drums—
Hiruzen's eyes sharpened.
The battle intent he had forged over decades surged back to life.
"They're here."
His quiet words snapped every commander to attention.
The next moment—
He raised his arm.
Removed his Hokage hat.
And threw it aside.
Then—
Gripped his robes—
And tore them open.
RIP—!
The ceremonial robes of the Hokage fell away—
Like shedding a burden.
Revealing dark battle armor beneath.
Cold.
Practical.
Forged for war.
"...Heh."
A faint breath escaped him.
Then—
He summoned the Adamantine Staff.
Gripped it tightly.
"Konoha shinobi—!"
His voice rang clear, sharp as steel.
"Enemy forces have arrived! There is no retreat!"
"Behind us lies the capital—the dignity of the Land of Fire—the foundation of our existence!"
He raised the staff—
Pointing straight at the advancing storm.
"Follow me—"
"ENGAGE!!!"
Hiruzen charged first—
A dark streak cutting into the storm of lightning.
"For Konoha!"
"For the Hokage!"
One thousand five hundred shinobi—
Including Homura—
Followed him.
Charging directly into a numerically superior enemy.
A head-on clash.
On the wall—
The court attendant trembled, crouched behind the battlements.
His narrow eyes stared at the battlefield—
As two colossal forces—
Like falling stars—
Collided beneath the dusk sky.
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