Eventually, the talk turned toward the larger shape of the war itself.

“Still no signs of the Kazekage?” Homura asked.

Danzo answered, his tone calm, but with a finality that pressed into the air. “At this point, whether he crawls out of hiding or not is irrelevant. The pieces are already moving. A chain reaction has begun, and no one can stop it anymore.”

Hiruzen exhaled a long stream of smoke and nodded. “In fact, our intelligence confirms it. All the great villages are mobilizing just as we are. For the first time in history, every hidden village will commit fully. If any hold back, they will be the losers, and the one who strikes fastest will decide the opening stage. This war cannot be stopped.”

The truth of it stretched back years. In fact, it had begun at the end of the last war, only five years ago.

That conflict had left nearly every village dissatisfied, every village except Konoha.

After the First Shinobi War, there had been decades of breathing room because everyone had carved out enough influence to call themselves winners to some extent. Konoha was still strongest, but not yet threatening all at once.

The Second War had been different. Hiruzen had overseen the expansion himself, convinced Konoha’s position at the center of the continent demanded greater buffers, and now it was the time to take that ‘logical’ further leap under his tenure, and also get himself into history.

At the same time, he allowed Danzo to build his Root branch, which specialized in ensuring the other villages never united against them.

Even just months ago, Danzo and Orochimaru had carried out missions to sow discord across borders. They had succeeded, but not completely.

Their enemies would still come. The other villages would all be involved to some degree against Konoha.

Root’s efforts guaranteed they would also clash with one another, or at least be wary of each other, so they couldn’t commit to Konoha’s direction fully, drawn into side conflicts by stoked grudges, but that only lessened the blow; it did not remove it.

Hiruzen felt the weight of it settle in his chest. ‘It is truly my mistake.’

The truth was bitter. The current war had been born not from fresh aggression he caused just now and had immediate blame, but from the choices he had made five years earlier.

In his shinobi prime, as a younger man leading the most powerful hidden village, he had pushed too far, swollen with pride as Tobirama’s disciple and Konoha’s Third Hokage.

Danzo had whispered into his ear constantly, fanning the flames, and Hiruzen had believed himself strong enough to carry it.

But when the other villages recovered, even just a little, their first thought was to reclaim what Konoha had taken.

He had overestimated Konoham or perhaps overestimated himself. In truth, this was no longer Hashirama’s era.

That brief golden age had been the product of two giants.

Hashirama had bound the clans, forced the villages to the table, and Madara had silently cowed them all with fear of his might.

The world had followed because those two men had towered above it.

Hiruzen, despite his strength and his legendary students, was not Hashirama.

He had clung to an uncompromising policy in the Second War, not realizing the gains would collapse upon Konoha like a crumbling sky.

His pipe trembled slightly between his fingers, though he gave no voice to these thoughts.

He would never admit them aloud, not even here, and he had no intention of surrendering power.

Mistakes had been made, yes, but Danzo as Hokage would have led them down the same path, or worse.

After all, no one else had ever understood that Konoha’s supposed exceptionalism was not in its system, but in one man.

The other villages could copy every policy Tobirama had crafted. The only thing they lacked was Hashirama’s personal strength. And now, Konoha lacked him too.

He had thought they would need ten years to recover. It had only taken five.

That was why, two or three years ago, he had made his quiet bet about how to save the village and increase its strength enough in a short time. There was a powerful, secret jutsu suitable for that.

He had given Jiraiya’s student, Minato Namikaze, the notes of the Flying Raijin, an incomplete version initially researched by Tobirama that no one could use except him, not to mention complete it.

Normally, he would never have shared such a treasure with anyone, but the time was different.

Minato was also different, talented in space-time jutsu-shiki, and in general, and more importantly, very controllable, so he wouldn’t fly too far away from Hiruzen’s control.

Yes, Minato was ambitious. He spoke often, childishly, to everyone, of becoming Hokage.

But precisely because of that foolish openness, for example, Hiruzen never saw him as a true danger.

A man like Minato could be guided, checked, even controlled from the shadows in a thousand ways.

Even if Hiruzen one day stepped down, Minato could never master the coils of Konoha’s bureaucracy, never seize the web of power fully for himself.

So no, it was clear enough, the Kazekage’s sudden disappearance alone could not have sparked a full world war.

Nor had Iwagakure’s scheming through Kusagakure been the true cause. The truth was simpler, heavier.

The last war had never truly ended. Its wounds had only scabbed over, not healed.

And the moment the other villages regained even the smallest measure of strength, they acted again, eager to squeeze back what had been taken.

This time, there would be no holding back. Everyone would bleed.

The scale would be broader than either of the last two wars, stretching across every border, every hidden village.

Even children barely graduated from the academies would be pushed onto the battlefield, their names to be buried before they were ever known.

Hiruzen’s jaw tightened. He had seen it before, how quickly desperation stripped away restraint.

He could already picture the summons being issued in each land, classrooms emptied, the youngest pressed into service to fill ranks.

The cycle would repeat itself, as it always had. Lord First Hokage was proven wrong again.

“This war was inevitable,” Hiruzen said at last, voice low, the pipe smoke curling around his face. “And it will be the widest one yet.”

Danzo’s expression did not change. “Then we must act before the others. The one who moves first seizes the momentum. Hesitation is death.”

Koharu and Homura exchanged a glance, grim but wordless.

The fate of the entire shinobi world pressed in on the terrace, heavier than the autumn air drifting over the roofs of Konoha.

“Anyway, Iwa and Kumo’s northern fronts are the most critical. That’s where the war will break first,” Koharu said suddenly, her eyes narrowing. “Suna and Kiri are more cautious. Kiri is still torn apart by chronic civil strife as always, and Suna has lost its Kazekage, with only a young successor to lead. They’ve always been the weaker of the great villages, and they won’t move until Iwa and Kumo seize the initiative. Only then will they commit. So their command posts can wait. Are Jiraiya and Orochimaru ready?”

Hiruzen gave a slow nod. “Yes. They’ve been notified. Jiraiya will take command in the northwest against Iwa. Orochimaru will command the northern lines against Kumo. They are already preparing somewhere to receive and then lead the first batch of troops promptly.”

Jiraiya and Orochimaru, as his disciples and around his own level of strength, were naturally the most trusted to take the two most dangerous command posts.

Orochimaru, however, had better methods at his disposal and knew Kumogakure’s patterns more intimately, so Hiruzen placed him there, as it was slightly more difficult front as well.

At that point, Danzo broke in. “It’s the other two southern fronts where finding commanders will prove difficult.” His voice was calm, but even he conceded the obviousness of Hiruzen’s choices. He might question Jiraiya’s methods, but he did not question his strength.

Danzo knew well that perhaps he and Shinsuke could command the southern fronts, but both had their own divisions of ANBU to manage. This reality made Hiruzen frown.

“Shinsuke and the remaining ANBU will have to handle internal stability and the country’s security,” Hiruzen said firmly. “And you, Danzo, will be busy infiltrating enemy rears, sowing division, and pursuing your usual divide-and-conquer strategies. You’re not suitable either. As Hokage, I can’t take a permanent command post. At most, I’ll enter a few key battles against enemy Kage-levels, as in the last war, but I won’t be stationed anywhere.”

The burden was heavier than ever. Nearly all official shinobi forces, save for the few needed to maintain administration and basic defense, would be deployed.

That meant the regular ANBU “periphery” pool would be stripped bare. Even so, Hiruzen intended to leave the “Core” behind; those operatives, only loyal to him, erased from the records, his most trusted inner circle.

They would remain in the village as a hidden reserve, led by his own son, a quasi–Kage-level presence, to act as a failsafe. Their task would not be the front lines, but the defense of Konoha itself, restraining the Uchiha, the Hyūga, and any others who might think of seizing power while the war raged outside.

“We can’t let all of the Hyūga and Uchiha remain in the village, and perhaps take advantage of the lack of other shinobi forces, yet we also can’t send them freely to the war and let them gather merit, not when we, the official leadership, will bear the brunt of resentment for this war. This will be troublesome…” Homura muttered, his brow furrowing. Hiruzen’s earlier words had stirred his memory of those two clans again, and the unease they always carried.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep