The young babe and the thousands with him felt time pass at a crawl. Mind-numbing screams reverberated through the underground shelter. The Beast above was far from done with its rampage. The electricity had long gone out, leaving the masses in the pitch-black embrace of darkness. The air was thick with fear; any sound other than the cacophony of breaths and silent prayer would cause the release of this miasma, choking them of hope.
The night was long, and the longer it went on, the more people seeking refuge found their way to the shelter with the help of ninja. At first, the influx of new souls was fast, accompanied by ninja who were quick to leave and rejoin the fight. But as the night progressed, fewer came, and the ninja, with each return, came back with more blood on their hands, behind their ears, leaving trails from their boots—some of it was theirs, and some wasn't. Few tried to wipe off the blood, ending up only smearing it up their arms or across their faces, but most left it to dry. Once eager to rejoin the conflict, they now seemed lost, eyes glazed over. The ninja, while preparing to leave once more, often moved through the crowds calling out names. Some were relieved and left the shelter stronger for it, but many gave up and stopped calling out on return trips, either knowing the outcome or not wanting to know it. As the flow of people seeking refuge slowed, eventually the ninja stopped coming back. That fact sunk deep in the guts of the villagers. All hands were on deck; even the young Chūnin were out there. If the future of this Village was being called into duty, it meant Konoha was stretched thin, with barely a few Genin left in each shelter.
The villagers, who were once in not only the most prosperous Village in the world but also the most powerful, were now all hiding in caves and underground bunkers, or had fled outside the very walls meant to protect them. They couldn't understand how this was happening—how their Great Village could fall overnight. Yes, many had lost hope. Even if the battle was won, how much was lost? Homes, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, whole families wiped out. Even the great clans were hopeless in saving their legacies. A few knew that even if the battle was won, the devastation wrought on the Leaf would make it ripe for attack by all, from bandits to the Great Villages themselves.
After what seemed like days, the sounds of destruction outside stopped, and everyone held their breath. A few hours later, with a loud creak, the front door to the shelter opened, and a silhouette came in: a ninja. As their eyes adjusted to the fading twilight coming in, they realized it was a young man, clearly a Chūnin. He had a scar stretching across his nose.
"Listen up, everyone! Lord Fourth beat the Nine-Tails!" He paused, noticing a lack of reaction, then drew a great breath. "WE WON! THE NINE-TAILS HAS BEEN SEALED BY LORD FOURTH!" Gasping for air, he put a big smile on his face.
The air was still. Everyone was still processing what was said. Then, a man wearing a white headband and white apron, ladle in one hand and a young girl in his other, shouted, "OF COURSE HE DID! HE IS OUR HOKAGE!"
That lifted the veil. Tears, screams, hollers, laughter—some even so exhausted they laid down for a nap—all came flooding from a people who, in a part of their mind, didn't think they would see the light of the morning sun. But now it was streaming in, bathing them in its golden light. It was giving warmth to the embers in them all, and that gave those embers the strength to stand and dance once more. The darkness suffocating them was evaporated, and their Will of Fire blazed in response. Even the pessimistic among the villagers felt their patriotism burn. So what if the village was in shambles and the wolves were closing in? The Village Hidden in the Leaf would fend them all off. As long as we had each other, the Will of Fire would guide us and keep us strong.
Most were lost in their relief, but a few noticed the Chūnin who gave them the good news. He had turned around after their cheers started, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. And as the morning sun worked its way down into the shelter, they saw it: tears falling from this young Chūnin. He knew things they did not. The village wasn't just in shambles; it was broken. Tens of thousands were dead, not counting shinobi deaths. He thought of his parents, and it nearly broke him, but his job was to give hope to the villagers; he had to stay strong. "Everyone, prepare your belongings. You all will be moved to temporary camps until the full damage has been assessed, fires stopped, and all survivors rescued." It soured their moods to hear they wouldn't be able to return home, but much of the village was destroyed; only the outer rim was mostly spared. The one solace he had was that things couldn't get much worse. Sadly, he was also in the dark about what the upper echelons of the village were dealing with.
Hiruzen Sarutobi stood in the Hokage's office; he had spent years in this room, but now it felt alien to him. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It didn't smell like his tobacco; it had a clean scent, faintly of ozone. Minato must have come back here to grab his gear before the final battle. The thought came as quick as a shuriken to the gut: Minato's final battle. He mulled it over in his head. His eyes found the picture frame just past a stack of neat, unfinished paperwork. Always paperwork; it's never-ending. At least I wasn't the only one to have that problem, he thought. The picture was of Minato and a very pregnant Kushina, with his goofy student in the background. Staring at the photo, Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, trained by the First and Second in the true ways of the ninja, cried for his successor. How had this happened? Minato was the rising star of the village, with the Will of Fire burning so bright he was blinding. Hashirama would have been so happy that his Village had raised a civilian ninja, from no great clan, and named him Hokage. And how could they not? Hiruzen had never known a kinder man, and Minato proved it by dying without a second thought, saving his child and village even as he spent his final moments with his dying wife. "DAMMIT!" Hiruzen slammed the desk, sending the paper flying throughout the office. If he had held on a little longer and not pushed the burden on Minato, he would be alive now, given time to grow stronger, given time to leave his impact on the village. But it was done now.
"I'm surrounded. The Great Villages will be looking at us as easy pickings. If they attacked now, could they even call it a war?" He had to put up a strong front. Jiraiya, Tsunade, and Orochimaru must stay in the village in case of an attack. But even worse than those abroad were those closer to home: the elders. They had their own interests, and now that the balance had shifted back, they had power. But they were small fry compared to the problems Orochimaru and Danzo would create. Both wanted the Hokage position. If they attacked now, Hiruzen would lose. He could take on his foolish student who had fallen, but he and Danzo were mostly even. The two would be more than he could handle. But they knew what he knew: if they started fighting among themselves now, Konoha would fall to foreign invaders. They would bide their time. In that time, he needed to drive a wedge between them; he couldn't let them ally. Luckily, he would be the only one targeted. They knew the clans would follow him over them no matter what, and in an all-out conflict, Root would be crushed.
What about Naruto? He couldn't protect him outright; they saw him as only a weapon. If he took him under his wing, they would act. The only way was to let them think they could have him whenever they needed him as a last resort, but it would mean neglecting Naruto and leaving him to be affected by Danzo's schemes. What choice do I have? I can't help him until he becomes a ninja. Until then, I have to let Danzo think he has all the cards in his hands. I'm sorry, Minato, Kushina. I have no choice. It's for the village's survival.