The dim glow of a single lantern painted the maps and scrolls in shades of gold and umber, but did little to dispel the shadows gathering in the corners of the room—or in the corners of the Hokage's mind after Shiba's reveal of Kiri's state of affairs.
He sat perfectly still, the picture of a venerable leader in repose, but his eyes, sharp and dark behind the veil of tobacco haze, betrayed a relentless, churning tension.
His fingers, resting on the worn wooden table, began a soft, rhythmic tapping. A tiny, almost imperceptible sign of the calculation whirring behind his calm facade.
Through the still-active Yamanaka link, a connection that felt more intimate and burdensome than any spoken conversation, he sent the question into the waiting mind of his strategist.
"This instability in Kiri… Should we do anything?"
The question hung in the psychic space between them, laden with the weight of unintended consequences. To act was to interfere in the sovereignty of another shinobi village, a provocation that could ignite a new war before the ashes of the last had cooled. To not act was to allow a potential viper's nest to fester on their doorstep.
In his own command tent, miles away, Nara Shiba ceased his slow, measured pacing. He came to a stop before a large map of the continent, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.
The silence from his end was not empty; it was the sound of a brilliant mind weighing every variable, every possible future branching out from this single decision.
"No," Shiba's mental voice finally came, clean and decisive as a surgeon's scalpel. "We should not interfere. Not directly. Every village—Kumo, Iwa, Suna—will be exhausted, their resources depleted, their attention turned inward to bury their dead and rebuild. For us to meddle in Kiri's affairs now would be to paint a target on Konoha's back."
He paused, letting the strategic logic settle.
"I get you, our move is not intervention. It is observation and preparation. But still, we must immediately bolster our intelligence networks within Kirigakure and the Land of Water in general. We need eyes and ears in every clan hall and every dark alley. We'll simply watch it, so that when it inevitably boils over, we are not scalded by the surprise. We prepare for the future hostility of whoever emerges victorious or the next Mizukage, rather than provoking an immediate confrontation we do not need."
The tension in Hiruzen's fingers stilled. Shiba's analysis was, as always, unassailable. It was the cold, pragmatic path.
The safe path.
Sensing his Hokage's acquiescence, Shiba's focus shifted. "A tactical question, Lord Third. The confrontation with the other Kage. How exactly did you manage the three hostile kages?"
Hiruzen took a long, slow draw from his pipe, the ember glowing brightly in the dim tent. He exhaled a plume of smoke that coiled towards the canvas ceiling like a ghostly serpent.
"Hiroshi, for all his posturing, recognised the greater threat. We formed a temporary alliance of necessity. It was two against three." He paused, the strategic beauty of it still fresh.
"The key was not overpowering them, but unbalancing them. I drove a wedge between Saitetsu and Ōnoki. I reminded the Kazekage of the centuries of blood feud between Suna and Iwa, of the inherent distrust between a desert and a mountain."
A faint, grim smile touched Hiruzen's lips. "For a time, it worked beautifully. Saitetsu switched sides. It became a three-way battle, then a free-for-all. Their alliance shattered under the weight of their own ancient hatreds."
On the other end of the link, Shiba actually straightened up, a rare flicker of genuine surprise disrupting his usual composed energy. "Saitetsu? I would have bet my entire intelligence network that Ōnoki would be the one to flip. His reputation for… flexible loyalties is famous."
Hiruzen actually chuckled, a dry, rasping sound in the quiet tent. He tapped his pipe gently against a small ceramic dish, the "tink-tink-tink" of falling ash a mundane counterpoint to the discussion of world-altering events.
"Ōnoki is a famed fence-sitter," he corrected, his mental voice laced with a lifetime of dealing with the old Tsuchikage.
"He weighs every option, calculates every risk. That is not the same as being decisive. He will only switch sides when the victory is assured."
For a brief, fleeting moment, the immense weight lifted.
The two, connected across miles by a thread of chakra, shared a rare, genuine laugh. It was a spark of light in a very dark room. Hiruzen felt his shoulders relax a fraction in his chair; miles away, Shiba allowed himself a small, wry smirk as he folded his arms.
But the moment could not last. The reality of their situation reasserted itself. Shiba's mental presence shifted, the laughter fading as if it had never been, replaced by the cool, analytical tone of the master strategist. He leaned over his maps once more.
"The strategic outcome, however, is undeniable. Our position is significantly stronger. The alliance against us is in tatters. Kumo is reeling from self-inflicted wounds. Iwa and Suna are blaming each other. This gives us immense leverage." His thoughts were sharp, focused.
"We must strong-arm the other villages in the post-war negotiations, especially Kumo. Their moral and force standing is shattered. We can dictate terms."
Hiruzen nodded slowly, taking another pull from his pipe. The cherry ember cast a faint, pulsating glow on his weary features.
"I agree," he said. "I will pressure them. But first, I must secure the Daimyō's support. The political battle in the Fire Capital will be just as crucial as the one on the battlefield."
He let out a slow breath. "And I am waiting. Let the Raikage spend his energy and his people's lives cleaning up the chaos his ambition created. When he comes to the negotiating table, the memory of that destruction will be a heavier chain than any I could forge."
Shiba's acknowledgement was a pulse of agreement. Then, his thoughts turned back to the beginning of their conversation. "And Hiroshi? He left with the Raikage?"
"He did," Hiruzen confirmed. "And he was severely weakened. As were we all. Three days of fighting at that level… it drains something fundamental from you. I doubt any of us have been so vulnerable in decades."
A long, heavy silence flowed from Shiba's end of the connection. It was a silence filled with unspoken, terrible calculations. When his voice returned, it was hesitant, each word chosen with extreme care.
"At his weakened state…" Shiba began, leaving the horrific conclusion hanging.
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed, the pipe freezing halfway to his lips. He finished the thought, his own mental voice dropping to a whisper that was all the more chilling for its lack of emotion.
"The perfect time for an assassination."
The words landed in the psychic space between them, and a new, deeper silence descended. It was no longer just quiet; it was a void, filled with the grim acceptance of a brutal truth.
Hiruzen's pipe glowed faintly, a single, dying star in the darkness of the tent. Shiba's hands, clasped behind his back, tightened until the knuckles were white, his expression unreadable to anyone but the Hokage who could feel the turmoil in his chakra signature.
They were discussing the murder of a Kage. An ally, however temporary. A man who had just fought beside him. It was the most naked form of realpolitik, and it tasted like ash.
Finally, Hiruzen broke the silence, his voice firm, drawing a line in the moral sand.
"It's none of our concern," he stated, the words final. "Not unless the next Mizukage chooses to make it so."
The decision was made. They would watch, but they would not act. They would let the bloodstained drama of Kirigakure play out on its own stage.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Hiruzen stood, adjusting the folds of his heavy Hokage robes. The moment for reflection was over. The time for command had returned.
"Shiba," he sent, his tone now crisp and authoritative. "Break the link and execute the following. Spread the word to all divisions: the war is over. Inform the High Command and the village elders. I want every Konoha shinobi prepared to fall back and return home. The order is immediate."
From the other end, there was a final pulse of acknowledgement—posture rigid, respect undiminished.
"Understood, Lord Hokage."
Hiruzen extinguished his pipe with a pinch of his fingers, the tiny "hiss" of the dying ember the only sound in the sudden stillness. He turned and stepped out of the command tent, leaving the warmth and the shadows behind.
The cold night air hit his face, a bracing slap of reality. Above, the stars were sharp and clear, indifferent to the wars and assassinations of men. The psychic link faded, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the immense, silent burden of a peace that felt more fragile than any war.
=====
Bless me with your powerful Power Stones.
Your Reviews and Comments about my work are welcomed
If you can, then please support me on Patreon.
Link - www.patreon.com/SideCharacter
You Can read more chapters ahead on Patreon
Latest Chapter: 678-Are you… or are you possessed?