"Lord Third, the situation on the Cloud frontline is critical! Lord Danzo has been defeated by the Third Raikage, and our forces have sustained devastating casualties!"
"Hiruzen, the Rock Shinobi front is collapsing! Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and Tsunade are pinned down in the Land of Earth!"
"It's not just the Great Nations, Sarutobi! Intelligence from the Rain suggests Hanzo is moving toward an alliance with the Mist!"
Inside the Hokage's office, the air was thick with the scent of old parchment and cold sweat. Sarutobi Hiruzen listened as Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu barked out one report after another, their faces etched with a grim desperation that mirrored his own. Even the man hailed as the 'God of Shinobi' felt a cold knot of anxiety tightening in his chest.
It wasn't a lack of composure; it was the simple, brutal reality that Konohagakure had been pushed to its absolute limit. The village was teetering on the precipice of total annihilation.
And the catalyst for this disaster was a single, tragic loss.
The White Fang of the Leaf was dead—by his own hand.
By losing Hatake Sakumo, Konoha hadn't just lost an elite Jonin; they had lost their most lethal deterrent. He was the blade that kept the Five Great Shinobi Villages at bay. It had been less than a month since the news of Sakumo's suicide leaked, and the vultures had immediately descended. The Cloud, Rock, and Mist had launched a coordinated assault, and even the "Salamander" of the Rain was beginning to stir.
If only I hadn't let Danzo have his way...
The weight of the reports felt like lead in Hiruzen's hands. Bitter regret surged through him, acrid and sharp. He had allowed himself to be swayed by Danzo's machinations, agreeing to the campaign to discredit the White Fang. He had only intended to humble Sakumo, to clip the wings of a man whose soaring reputation had begun to overshadow the Hokage's seat.
He never expected Danzo's "internal tactics" to be so effective that they would drive the village's greatest hero to take his own life.
"Sarutobi! Say something!" Koharu snapped, her voice trembling with frantic energy. She paced the floor like a caged animal.
The council elders—the so-called "Konoha F4"—were masters of political maneuvering and internal power struggles. But now that the walls were closing in from the outside, their usual confidence had evaporated into pure panic. They were experts at fighting for the crown, but far less capable of defending the kingdom.
"The three fronts are in total chaos! Jiraiya and the others are waiting for reinforcements that don't exist!" Homura added, his voice rising an octave.
As a high-ranking executive, Homura knew the ledgers better than anyone. He knew the reserves were dry. More than that, he was terrified. He was terrified that the village would fall, and even more terrified that Hiruzen would eventually look at him and Koharu and order them onto the front lines.
Konoha was bled white. Every shinobi of note had already been deployed. Aside from the elders themselves, there was no one left to send.
"Lord Third!"
Kato Dan, who had arrived to deliver the latest casualty list, stepped forward. Though he had not yet kindled his flame with Tsunade, his devotion to the village was absolute, and his face was pale with worry.
"Enough..." Hiruzen exhaled a long, steady cloud of smoke, trying to mask his own uncertainty. "Why the panic? I have already considered our next move."
The elders paused, hope flickering in their eyes. "Sarutobi... are you going to the front yourself?" Koharu asked.
"Ahem." Hiruzen cleared his throat, averting his eyes. "I would like nothing more than to join the fray. But as Hokage, I cannot leave the village unless the situation is absolute. I must remain here to coordinate our global strategy."
He refused without a second thought. In his youth, during the first and second wars, he was a lion on the battlefield. But those days were gone. Unless the enemy was literally at the gates, the "God of Shinobi" had no intention of stepping into the meat grinder.
"If you won't go, then who is left?" Homura muttered under his breath, a flash of resentment crossing his face. Still playing the 'wise leader' while the village burns.
"There is one person," Hiruzen said, standing up abruptly. He turned toward the window, gazing out at the monumental faces carved into Hokage Rock with a complicated expression. "It is time to invite him back."
"You mean..." Homura and Koharu exchanged a look of sudden realization.
"Lord Third, of whom are you speaking?" Kato Dan asked, confused.
"Iron Fist Ikki."
Hiruzen's voice took on a tone of profound respect. "The hero who helped bridge the end of the Warring States Period. The man who once sparred with the First Hokage and Uchiha Madara alike. A true legend among shinobi."
Without another word, Hiruzen turned and strode out of the office. The elders followed immediately, leaving Kato Dan standing in stunned silence.
"The end of the Warring States...?" Dan whispered, finally finding his breath. "That's impossible."
The Slopes Behind Hokage Rock
"Lord Third, can this 'Mr. Ikki' truly save us?" Kato Dan asked as they climbed the winding path. He had spent the entire walk wrestling with his skepticism.
"Are you doubting him, Dan?" Hiruzen didn't look back, but his brow furrowed. He was banking everything on this.
"It's not that, Lord Third. It's just... if he truly fought in the era of the First Hokage, he must be nearly a century old. Even a legend has to answer to time. How much strength could a hundred-year-old man possibly have left?"
"Hmph," Homura scoffed from the side. "Do you know what the Second Hokage said about Ikki?"
"I don't, sir."
"Lord Tobirama once said that Ikki is the only man in the world who is not restricted by his years. He is a man who simply refuses to grow weak."
Dan's heart hammered against his ribs. A man who doesn't grow weak with age? Not even the Sage of Six Paths could claim that.
"We're here," Hiruzen announced.
Dan looked past the Hokage and froze.
Standing in a small clearing was a man who seemed to defy the very laws of nature. He was massive—nearly three meters tall—with a burly, barrel-chested frame that threatened to shred the white dress shirt he wore. His muscles weren't the corded, stringy mass of an old man; they were thick, powerful slabs of granite.
"That... that is Iron Fist Ikki?" Dan stammered.
The man looked to be in his late thirties or early forties at the very most. His hair was peppered with grey, giving him a distinguished, rugged air, but his presence was overwhelming. He looked less like a retired ninja and more like a force of nature waiting to be unleashed.