Six months had passed since Indra first stepped into the Academy, and in that time, Konoha had changed. War still raged on, and shinobi continued to fall on the battlefield. Yet nothing had prepared the village for the devastating news that arrived one fateful morning.
The Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju, was dead.
The weight of the news settled over Konoha like an oppressive fog. The entire village mourned, civilians and shinobi alike. The Senju Clan was particularly devastated. They had lost their leader, their strongest protector, and now, revenge burned in their hearts. Even for those who had never met Tobirama personally, his loss was undeniable.
For Indra, however, the news was expected. He had seen it coming—his past life's memories told him of Tobirama's fate at the hands of the Kinkaku and Ginkaku Squad. Though he did not grieve like the others, he observed, taking in every reaction and every change within the village.
The remaining students of the Second Hokage—Hiruzen Sarutobi, Danzo Shimura, Kagami Uchiha, Homura Mitokado, and Koharu Utatane—stood before the grieving crowd. Their faces were solemn as Hiruzen spoke, his voice steady yet laced with sorrow.
"Our sensei gave his life so that we might live," he said. "We owe it to him to protect this village and carry forward his vision."
The villagers looked to him with hope, with grief, with expectation. Shortly after, it was announced that Hiruzen Sarutobi had been named the Third Hokage, chosen by Tobirama himself before his final stand. At only nineteen, he was now the leader of the strongest village in the world.
But not all welcomed this change.
The Senju Clan, still reeling from their losses, wanted blood. They waged war against Kumo's shinobi with a relentless fury, cutting down anyone who dared oppose them. Yet, their strength was not what it once was. In less than three years, they had lost both Hashirama and Tobirama, and now, only Mito Uzumaki remained as their last kage-level shinobi. The once-dominant Senju Clan was fading.
Indra watched as Tsunade masked her pain behind an emotionless facade. She had already lost her great-uncle, Hashirama. Now, she had lost her grandfather as well. She did not speak of it, but Indra knew. He had seen that kind of pain before.
The war reached its final stages, and within six months, Konoha emerged victorious. But victory came at a price. Countless shinobi had perished. Entire families were shattered. And while the war had ended, Indra knew—this was only the beginning.
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The night was cold when Hiroshi Hyuga returned. His face was lined with exhaustion, his once-pristine robes stained with dried blood and dirt. His eyes, usually sharp and confident, carried a weight that had not been there before.
Indra sat across from his father in their home, watching as Hiroshi unwrapped his bandages. His hands, always steady, now bore fresh scars.
"How was the war?" Indra asked.
Hiroshi exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment before speaking. "Bloody. Brutal. Pointless."
Silence stretched between them. Then, Hiroshi began to recount his experiences.
He had fought on the Kumo front, leading squads of Hyuga shinobi in battles that turned forests into graveyards. His Byakugan had seen ambushes before they happened, yet no matter how well they fought, the enemy was relentless.
"The worst battle," Hiroshi murmured, "was Twin Rivers. Kinkaku and Ginkaku led an attack that nearly wiped us out. I fought alongside Uchiha and Senju shinobi, but it wasn't enough."
Indra listened carefully, absorbing every word. He could see the way Hiroshi's jaw tightened, the way his hands curled into fists.
"I watched as Tobirama-sama made his final stand," Hiroshi admitted. "Even with the Byakugan, I was too far. I saw him unleash a storm of jutsu, fighting alone against overwhelming odds… and then, he was gone."
He paused, his voice quieter now. "We ran. We had to. And I hated it."
Indra had never seen his father like this. Defeated. But he understood. War did not reward honor—it only demanded survival.
Hiroshi looked at him, his gaze piercing. "Victory doesn't mean we've won. The real battles begin in peace—when ambition and fear take root."
With Hiruzen now leading Konoha, Indra turned his attention to the political landscape of the village. He remembered the countless discussions and forum debates he had read in his past life. The ones that spoke of how Hiruzen and Danzo systematically weakened Konoha's strongest clans.
Under Hiruzen's rule, the once-mighty Senju Clan faded into obscurity, reduced to almost nothing. The Uzumaki Clan, once feared and respected, became a forgotten name in history. And the Uchiha Clan, one of the founding pillars of Konoha, was left to rot in the shadows until they were ultimately destroyed.
He observed the way Hiruzen spoke of his teacher's legacy, how he framed himself as the one carrying Tobirama's will. It was subtle, but Indra saw the beginnings of something dangerous.
Glorification.
Slowly, Hiruzen would build his reputation—The Professor, The God of Shinobi. But those titles were hollow compared to the legends that came before him. After all, it was under his rule that Konoha lost its strongest clans and became a shadow of its former self.
And yet, the people would not see it until it was too late.
As Indra prepared to leave the room, Hiroshi spoke one last time.
"There will come a time when you must choose, Indra," his father said. "A time when you will see the true face of this village. Be ready."
Indra nodded, the weight of his father's words settling deep within him.
For now, he would continue to train, to learn, to watch.
Because the real battle was just beginning.