The room fell silent instantly.
Every eye turned toward the elder who had spoken, whose presence alone seemed to dominate the room. The man's surname was Shimura, and his reputation preceded him. Even Hyuga Ran, who had just spoken passionately about the danger of sending young Genin to battle, felt a flicker of discomfort.
"Elder Shimura… what do you mean by that?" Hyuga Ran demanded, her voice sharp, tinged with anger.
She rose abruptly, the rustle of her robes echoing across the office. "The First Hokage's body has not even cooled yet, and you propose sending Genin who have just graduated—children barely six years old—into the battlefield?"
She took a deliberate breath, her tone measured yet accusatory. "Have you forgotten the very reason Konoha was founded? The Village was established so that young children would not be forced into the horrors of war. So that everyone could grow, study, and live without fear of death in battle… Are you now trying to betray the First Hokage's dream?"
Elder Shimura sneered, his eyes flashing with disdain. "Do you honestly think I don't know what you're really thinking, Hyuga Ran?" he spat, rising to his feet. His voice was low, resonating with authority. "It's nothing more than the fact that one of this year's graduates is your only son. You don't want him on the battlefield. That's why you're pinning such lofty accusations on me!"
His hand shot forward, finger jabbing directly at her nose. "Hypocrite! You speak endlessly about what is good for Konoha, parading the Will of Fire at every turn. Yet when the time comes to truly contribute, you make excuses, bury your head in the sand, and turn away from responsibility!"
He paused, his chest heaving with indignation. "And tell me this—why can't a six-year-old fight? Did Uchiha Shū, commander of the Hidden Mist forces, not achieve victories against all of you at the same age? Was he not also six? I, Shimura, may have my faults, but I am far more upright and honest than a hypocrite like you! This elder is ashamed to be associated with you!"
Without waiting for a reply, Elder Shimura turned on his heel and walked out of the office, leaving silence in his wake.
Hyuga Ran's face turned a ghastly mix of green and white, a sheen of frustration and humiliation washing over her. She bowed hastily to Senju Tobirama before exiting, her posture stiff with indignation.
Senju Tobirama sat back, his fists clenched, the tension in his shoulders growing. Elder Shimura's words had been harsh, but the truth stung: Konoha was in a dire position, and no amount of moralizing could change that.
Uchiha Shū, ever the measured assistant, sighed as he straightened. "Hokage-sama, Elder Shimura's words may have been unpleasant, but he is not wrong. Unless we can command every Ninja Clan in Konoha to contribute a portion of their members, we cannot hope to assemble an army large enough to resist the Hidden Mist's advances. This is the reality we must face."
The meeting ended on a sour note. Tobirama's brows furrowed, his mind restless. Each Ninja Clan presented its own challenges.
The Uchiha, while openly rebellious and difficult, were all registered with the village and theoretically under Konoha's command. In contrast, clans like the Hyuga, Sarutobi, Nara, Yamanaka, and Akimichi were masters of concealment, hiding significant portions of their members from official records. Their loyalty was conditional, and their obedience selective.
As for the Shimura Clan, they were relatively straightforward. Their personalities could be extreme, sometimes bordering on fanatical, but their loyalty to Konoha was steadfast. They never held back, and they never hesitated to confront hypocrisy—even from a figure like Hyuga Ran. Tobirama felt a mixture of frustration and ironic amusement: those who were most rebellious toward the Hokage, like the Uchiha, and those most unorthodox, like the Shimura, were paradoxically among the most reliable when it came to following the Village's orders.
He shook his head. "What kind of mess have I inherited?" he muttered. His worry deepened. He had already submitted documents to Kumogakure seeking an alliance, but the response had yet to arrive. Every delay weighed heavily against Konoha's survival.
Meanwhile, in the Land of Water, the Daimyo was enjoying a leisurely ride on a painted ceremonial boat, his retainers surrounding him as the gentle waves lapped against the hull. The serenity of the afternoon was shattered in an instant.
The Daimyo plunged into the water with a terrifying splash, sending his attendants into a panicked frenzy. Despite their frantic efforts, by the time they pulled him from the river, a horrifying truth became apparent: his chest was soaked in blood, and a sharp Kunai protruded from his body.
Panic rippled through the group as the weapon was carefully removed and examined by a master craftsman, a man who had been forging and inspecting weapons for decades. "This Kunai… it's unmistakably from the Land of Fire. The shape, the material, the engraved markings—it is entirely in their style."
Murmurs of outrage followed. "The Land of Fire has gone too far!" one noble exclaimed.
"This is a direct result of the ongoing war between the Hidden Mist and Konoha. Konoha is steadily retreating, unable to oppose them, and now they resort to such vile tactics!" another added, his voice trembling with indignation.
The nobles' outrage intensified, fueled by a mixture of fear and righteous fury. "The Daimyo of the Land of Fire is truly despicable! Our own Daimyo is his brother-in-law, yet he would commit such atrocities? This cannot go unprotested! The world must know what kind of nation the Land of Fire has become!"
The chaos in the court grew, each voice clamoring for influence and action, yet the fact remained: the Hidden Mist's reach had extended far beyond its borders, and even the Water Daimyo was vulnerable.
In Uzushiogakure, news of the Eastern Army's repeated failure spread quickly. The ten Jonin who had survived returned to report each harrowing detail to Uzumaki Ashina.
"So, the Hidden Mist has once again claimed victory?" Ashina muttered, his eyes narrowing as he listened.
He shook his head slowly. "After Hashirama's passing, Konoha has deteriorated. Even the sparsely populated Hidden Mist now overpowers them. I wonder how many advantages that Uchiha brat secured in the Land of Fire this time…"
A pang of envy crossed his face. Uzushiogakure, along with the rest of the Land of Whirlpools, was impoverished. They had little choice but to cooperate with Konoha when missions were offered, but the incentive to support the Hidden Mist was far more tangible.
Konoha offered familial rhetoric and moral obligation, but no tangible benefits. The Hidden Mist, by contrast, promised material gain—even if small, it was preferable to nothing. Survival dictated pragmatism; Uzumaki Ashina knew this better than most.
"Send emissaries to the Hidden Mist," Ashina commanded. "Our village wishes to formally establish a military alliance. We cannot remain isolated in these times."
Back in the Land of Fire, the western front told a different story. The Konoha Western Army had fared much better than their eastern counterparts. A swift counter-offensive had driven invading Sunagakure forces back into the Land of Rain, stabilizing the region—at least for now.
Hiruzen Sarutobi sat quietly, smoking a dry pipe. The smoke curled across his face, blurring his vision. A letter trembled in his calloused hands, water droplets dripping from above onto the envelope. He gripped it as tightly as he could, yet his palms shook.
Jiraiya laughed loudly, teasing him. "Hahaha! Teacher Sarutobi, you're crying because of the smoke!"
Tsunade and Orochimaru stood nearby, unamused. They knew better. Hiruzen's reaction stemmed not from smoke but from grief, though the letter itself remained unreadable to them.
"Idiot, Jiraiya," Tsunade scolded, punching him on the head with such force that stars danced across his vision. "If you don't know how to speak properly, stay quiet!"
Orochimaru's voice was quieter, laced with curiosity. "Teacher Sarutobi, what is written in this letter?"
"You don't need to know," Hiruzen replied, suppressing his anguish. "This is not something for you to see." He forced himself to stand, shoulders heavy with sorrow. "Go now, and leave me in peace for a moment."
The three left reluctantly, leaving him alone with his grief.
"Father…"
Hiruzen Sarutobi finally gave in to his emotions, loud sobs escaping his throat. No matter how skilled or disciplined a Ninja, the loss of a loved one was unbearable—especially at the hands of someone he had mentored, someone he had once deemed average, neither exceptional nor incompetent. How could he reconcile that?
In this world, pain was constant, and sorrow often unacknowledged. Hiruzen's grief was but one among countless others, though it carried the weight of leadership, legacy, and personal failure. Few outside could comprehend the depth of the anguish Konoha's leaders carried silently.
And yet, despite his tears, despite the horrors that threatened the Land of Fire, life—and war—continued.
The world wept, but few cared to listen.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)