A.n. I hope you guys can leave a review.
Tsunade stood on the edge of the Hokage monument, overlooking what was once the proud village of Konoha.
Now, it was a ghost of its former self.
Even as Konoha remained standing, the weight of the war outside reached them.
Tsunade could hear the cries of orphans left behind, the whispers of broken families, and the resentment of the common people.
Once, she had been a leader.
A protector.
Now?
She felt like a relic of a past no one wanted anymore.
Orochimaru stood beside her, his arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but his usual amusement was absent.
For once, there was no smirk, no teasing remarks.
He spoke first.
"It's fascinating, isn't it?" His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful. "For so long, the shinobi thought they were immortals. Unstoppable warriors, shaping the world as they pleased. But now, for the first time… they're truly afraid."
Tsunade exhaled sharply. "It's not fascinating. It's a tragedy."
Orochimaru's golden eyes flickered toward her. "All things end, Tsunade. Even the era of shinobi."
Tsunade clenched her fists.
"No. This war… it's not the end. But it's going to leave a scar that never heals."
She turned her gaze to the distant horizon, where battle still raged.
Naruto was gone.
And in his absence, everything had collapsed.
Tsunade hated herself in this moment.
For being too weak.
For being too old.
For not having the power to stand alongside them.
She had once been the strongest woman in the world.
But now?
What was the point of that strength if she couldn't change anything?
She had trained so many, healed so many—
And yet, she couldn't stop the world from falling apart.
She had seen innocents trampled beneath the feet of immortals.
She had seen villages erased from existence like they were nothing.
And she had seen the fear in the eyes of the common people.
The realization that chakra users were monsters.
That no matter what Kage or shinobi claimed—
War was all they knew how to create.
The world had already started to turn against them.
Ordinary people had begun to hate them.
And Tsunade couldn't blame them.
She had heard the whispers in the streets.
"The shinobi only bring war."
"They don't protect us—they destroy us."
"They're monsters, all of them."
She knew that after this war ended, no matter who won, the damage was permanent.
The world would never forget this war.
Even if peace returned, the scars would remain.
A mother who lost her son in the crossfire of immortallike beings.
A farmer whose entire home was erased in a battle between titans.
A child who saw their entire village vanish in an instant—because they weren't strong enough to matter.
These people would never forgive them.
And Tsunade didn't know if they should.
She turned to Orochimaru, her voice quieter now.
"Tell me… how do we live with this? How do we carry this?"
Orochimaru studied her for a long moment before exhaling in what almost sounded like a laugh.
"We don't."
Tsunade frowned. "What?"
Orochimaru tilted his head. "We don't 'carry' it, Tsunade. We simply exist with it."
His expression darkened. "The world will hate us. It will curse us. But that doesn't matter. Because we are shinobi. And shinobi do not ask for forgiveness."
Tsunade looked away.
That was where she and Orochimaru were different.
She didn't want to be a monster.
She didn't want to be hated.
But maybe… she had no choice.
Maybe, after all this, being hated was the only future shinobi had left.
And she would have to find the strength to accept it.
Zuko stood at the highest balcony of his palace, gazing over the capital city of the Fire Nation.
The sky, once a proud red and gold tapestry, was now gray with ash.
The air, once filled with the sounds of life, was now eerily silent.
No laughter.
No markets bustling with merchants.
No children running through the streets.
Just the weight of fear.
The tremors that had shaken the earth had stopped, but the emptiness they left behind remained.
Zuko could see it—
In the lifeless eyes of the people.
In the way they walked, as if each step held no meaning.
As if they had already given up.
A world where immortals waged war, and men were nothing but ants beneath their feet.
A world where a single whim from a giant could erase entire civilizations.
He clenched his fists.
"I don't think we can live together," Zuko finally said, his voice low.
Beside him, Iroh remained silent for a long time.
The old general was staring at the city, his wise eyes taking in the devastation not just in the land—
But in the people's souls.
"They are afraid," Iroh murmured.
Zuko exhaled sharply. "They should be. Look at them, Uncle. They already know the truth."
Iroh glanced at him. "And what truth is that?"
Zuko's golden eyes burned with frustration.
"That this world isn't meant for people like us."
He gestured toward the shattered city below.
"The world is made of foam, Uncle. But the ones who wage war? The ones who decide fate? They are made of steel. The rest of us… we're just waiting to be crushed."
His voice was bitter. "We used to believe that we were powerful. That we shaped the world with our strength.That we could someday break through. But now? What does our power even mean in the face of… that?"
He didn't say the names.
Didn't need to.
Everyone knew the names of the monsters who shaped the war.
People whose battles could split continents, whose power could shatter the sky.
And yet, the ordinary people—the ones who lived, who farmed, who built the future—were nothing to them.
They didn't matter.
And Zuko hated it.
Zuko had spent his life fighting for peace.
Fighting for a world where people could live without fear.
But now, he wondered—
Was that even possible anymore?
What did it mean to be Fire Lord in a world where his entire kingdom could be wiped away in an instant?
Did he rule a nation of ghosts?
A nation of people who only existed because the immortals hadn't crushed them yet?
Iroh placed a gentle hand on Zuko's shoulder.
"Fear is a powerful force, my nephew," he said. "But it does not have to define us."
Zuko let out a bitter laugh. "It already has, Uncle. These people, our people… they know now. They see the truth. They aren't warriors, they aren't kings. They're just… insects, scurrying for survival. And maybe that's all they ever were."
Iroh sighed. "Perhaps. But if that is true, then tell me—why are we still here?"
Zuko turned to him.
Iroh's eyes, full of wisdom, met his. "Why do you still stand? Why do you still fight? If we are truly so small, so powerless, then why do we refuse to kneel?"
Zuko didn't answer immediately.
Because deep down, he knew.
Because he had never been able to kneel.
Because despite the fear, despite the hopelessness—
Something inside him still burned.
Something inside him still refused to be erased.
He was no immortal.
But he was Fire Lord.
And maybe… maybe that still meant something.
Even in a world ruled by monsters.
In the vast, endless abyss of the Underworld, three divine figures stood in solemn silence, watching as war tore through the mortal realm.
Hades, Lord of the Dead, stood at the center, his cold, piercing gaze fixed upon the devastation. His obsidian robes billowed despite the absence of wind, and his skeletal fingers curled into a fist at his side.
To his left, Hestia, the gentle flame of hearth and home, held a hand over her chest, her warm eyes filled with sorrow. Though her fire had never dimmed, today it flickered, struggling against the weight of despair.
And to his right, Gaea, Mother of the Earth, stood as still as stone, her evergreen gaze clouded with sadness. She, who had once embraced Orochi as her chosen warrior, now felt the unbearable void his death had left within her.
Together, they bore witness to a world tearing itself apart.
Hades was not a immortal of warmth or sentiment, but even he felt a deep ache as he watched the carnage unfold.
This war was not just another conflict between mortals.
It was a scar upon existence itself.
And it was a burden that would fall squarely upon Naruto's shoulders.
His apprentice—his greatest student—was not here to stop it.
And Hades knew. He knew.
The moment Naruto returned, this war would break him.
Not physically. No, his power would remain untouched, his body unshaken.
But his soul?
His soul would bleed.
The boy who had always fought to protect others, to build a better world, would come back to see only ashes and ruin.
"This will change him," Hades murmured, his voice heavy as the weight of the dead. "And not for the better."
Hestia turned to him, pain etched across her usually serene face. "You trained him well. He is strong. But even the strongest hearts can break."
Hades let out a slow breath. "Naruto was never afraid of power. Never afraid of battle. But this… this war will make him question everything he fought for. It will make him wonder if his dream was ever possible to begin with."
He closed his eyes.
"And I am afraid of what answer he will find."
Hestia hated war.
She was not like Ares, who reveled in battle, nor like Athena, who found glory in strategy. She was the immortaldess of home, of peace, of warmth.
And yet, she stood here, forced to watch as countless homes burned, as people cried out for salvation that would never come.
Her gentle hands clenched into fists.
"These people… They never had a chance."
She had seen the way the world trembled beneath these titanic warriors.
The common people, the ones who built the world, who nurtured it, who lived quietly and asked for nothing but peace—
They were nothing but insects in this war.
Hestia's heart ached for them.
"This will not be forgotten," she whispered. "Even if the war ends, even if Naruto returns, the people will never see chakra users the same way again."
Hades gave her a sidelong glance. "You think they will be feared?"
Hestia shook her head, her fire crackling with sorrow. "No. They will be hated."
And she was right.
The common people would not remember why this war began. They would not care about who had fought for what reason.
They would only remember the immortals who walked among them—
And the devastation they had brought.
Gaea had lived for eons. She had seen wars rise and fall, had watched as the world healed itself from wounds it should not have survived.
But this time, she did not know if it would.
This time, she did not know if there would be anything left to heal.
She pressed a hand to her chest, where the echo of Orochi's death still lingered.
Her warrior. Her chosen one.
Gone.
"I failed him," she whispered, her voice heavy with grief.
Hades said nothing. He, too, had seen countless warriors die. He understood that pain.
But Gaea?
She was the earth itself.
She had felt his final breath like a wound carved into her very being.
Hestia reached for her, placing a comforting hand on Gaea's arm.
"You gave him a purpose," she said softly. "You gave him a place in this world. And he fought with everything he had."
Gaea looked away. "And yet, he is still gone."
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress. "And the world will never know his name."
She had always despised war.
But now?
Now, she hated it.
Hated the immortals and mortals alike who waged it.
Hated the monsters who tore the world apart as if it meant nothing.
And most of all—
She hated that she had not been strong enough to stop it.
As they stood together, watching the war unfold, none of them spoke for a long time.
There were no words to describe the tragedy before them.
No words to ease the pain in their hearts.
Finally, it was Hades who broke the silence.
"When this war ends, the world will never be the same."
Hestia nodded, her fire dim. "No. It won't."
Gaea's voice was quiet, yet filled with something deeper.
"Naruto will try to fix it."
Hades exhaled. "He will. Because that is who he is."
But even as he said the words, he could not shake the heavy truth that hung over them all—
Naruto would return to a world that hated him.
A world that blamed him.
And the question that none of them dared ask was—
Would he still be able to love this world, even after everything it had done?
Tsunami stood at the edge of the docks, her hands clutching the railing as she watched the sea churn violently beneath the stormy sky. The waves crashed against the shore, wild and unrelenting, as if mirroring the chaos consuming the world.
She had seen this before.
War.
Destruction.
Hopelessness.
She had thought those days were over.
She had believed—foolishly—that the sacrifices of people like Naruto, Zabuza, and Haku had meant something. That the peace they had bled for had mattered.
But now, as she looked over her homeland, she saw the same despair as before.
The Land of Waves was once again drowning in fear and suffering.
Tazuna had been the first to see the signs—the hesitation in the merchants' eyes, the whispers of war spreading like wildfire, the price of goods rising as panic set in.
And then the real terror began.
The powerful had left them to fend for themselves.
There were no shinobi to protect them.
No daimyo who cared for them.
Just like before, the people of the Land of Waves were nothing but insects caught in the storm of giants.
And now, refugees poured in from the mainland, carrying horror stories of battles that shattered mountains, of warriors who tore apart space itself, of villages erased from existence in the blink of an eye.
Tsunami had seen what war did to people.
She saw it in their hollowed eyes, in the way they held their children tightly, as if fearing they would vanish in an instant.
She saw it in the way they whispered about monsters in human skin, about chakra users who had turned the world into a battleground of immortals.
And most of all—
She saw it in the way they hated them now.
The shinobi.
The ones who had once been symbols of strength, of power, of protection—
Were now seen as the architects of destruction.
Tsunami clenched her fists.
"History is repeating itself."
She thought of Naruto.
The boy who had once stood here, looking at this very ocean, swearing to bring peace to the world.
The boy who had saved them all.
Had it all been for nothing?
Did it even matter, when all it took was time for people to return to their old ways?
She had believed in him. She still did.
But Tsunami knew the truth now.
Even if Naruto returned, even if he fought with everything he had, even if he ended the war—
The people would never forgive the shinobi for what had happened.
And worst of all—
She wasn't sure if they should.
"This time, we won't be saved."
Because even Naruto couldn't bring back the dead.
And the Land of Waves had already started burying its own.