On this day, Tsunade returned to the village with Sakiya.
She immediately set to work restoring order in Konoha and announced the formation of the Ninja Alliance, mobilizing troops for the cause.
However, uniting the villages was not so simple. Old grudges, long buried, resurfaced during this attempt to forge unity among the five great ninja villages.
Many shinobi, still nursing deep resentment, opposed the alliance.
Konoha had just fought a battle with Iwagakure. Though Iwagakure suffered the heavier losses, Konoha had also paid a steep price.
The wounds of war were fresh.
For many, the idea of fighting alongside former enemies was unthinkable—especially for those who had lost comrades in battle.
Some of these discontented shinobi formed a splinter group. Though small in number, their defiance was a problem.
Tsunade had a headache.
If she crushed the rebellion with force, it would set a dangerous precedent, risking division within Konoha's own ranks.
---
Deep in a dense forest outside the village, a group of shinobi had gathered. Their leader, a middle-aged man with a scar running across his face, sat on a rock, a sword strapped to his back.
His followers watched him anxiously.
"Muraji-sama! We made the right choice following you. Fighting alongside our enemies? It's unbearable!"
Another shinobi, grief-stricken, spoke up.
"My partner… my love… they died at their hands. How can I stand beside them like nothing happened?"
His voice trembled with fury.
"Just seeing them makes my blood boil!"
Another voice joined in.
"They can't be trusted!"
One by one, they echoed the same sentiment. Their hatred ran too deep. How could they simply forget?
Could an alliance built on such resentment ever hold?
Muraji said nothing for a long moment, staring into the distance. Then, finally, he spoke.
"Go back."
His voice was clear, carrying over the hushed forest.
The shinobi stiffened.
"What…?"
"Go back?"
"Muraji! Are you serious?"
"You were the first to stand against the Hokage—are you backing down now?"
Muraji tilted his head slightly, gazing at the sky over Konoha.
"Yes…" he murmured. "I'm afraid."
Silence.
Then outrage.
"I don't believe it!"
"Muraji, you're not afraid of death!"
"We've come too far to turn back now!"
Muraji closed his eyes, sighing. When he opened them again, his expression was troubled.
"You all understand what this means, don't you? What we're doing…" He hesitated, then continued.
"This is betrayal."
Betrayal of the village.
The weight of those words settled over them.
No one spoke.
Because they knew.
They were not afraid of death.
But to die as traitors to their own village? That was something they could never accept.
"But—"
"No buts!"
Muraji stood up, turning to face them with a sharp, commanding gaze.
"If you continue down this path, all you'll do is make fools of yourselves in front of the other villages! We can't let them laugh at us! We can't bring shame to our village!"
"But what about you, Muraji?!" someone shouted.
Muraji turned away again, his back to them. Slowly, he drew his blade, its steel gleaming in the dim light. His expression was resolute.
"I made my choice when I stood before the Hokage and led you all down this path," he said.
"I can't turn back now."
"But you… you don't have to die for something meaningless."
Silence.
His followers looked at him, their faces torn between pain and determination. Then, one of them stepped forward, his voice raw with emotion.
"How could we abandon you, Muraji?!"
"This was our decision! It's not just about you!"
One by one, the others followed, standing firm beside him.
Muraji clenched his fists. Anger, frustration, and something deeper—something painful—swelled inside him. His voice broke through the tense air.
"Idiots! Do you even understand what you're doing?!"
A heavy silence followed.
Then, a voice—light, almost playful—cut through the tension.
"Wow. You all sound ridiculous."
The sudden intrusion made every shinobi tense.
Muraji instinctively tightened his grip on his sword and turned toward the voice.
When he saw the person standing there, his eyes widened in shock.
The others froze as well.
A girl stood before them, dressed in a flowing red robe. Her left eye was covered by a cute eyepatch, and despite her youthful appearance, there was something sharp—something knowing—about the way she carried herself.
Hands on her hips, she tilted her head slightly, her expression serious.
"In the grand scheme of things, holding on to old grudges is just so pointless."
"If you don't realize it, all you'll do is bring yourself unnecessary pain—and slow down the progress of all humanity."
"This is a losing battle. Are you really too blind to see that?"
Muraji stared at the girl in front of him, then sighed, lowering his sword.
"I understand what you're saying… but no one can let go of hatred so easily."
He lifted his gaze to the sky, his thoughts drifting to the past.
"Whether it was Eizo, Raito, or the others… I still remember the moment they died. I can't forget. I won't forget. I swore I would avenge them—even if it means throwing myself against a mountain, knowing I'll be crushed."
His voice was heavy with grief as he turned to look at Kihana Sakiya, his expression dark.
"You are Konoha's great hero. You even saved my life. But I'm sorry—I can't let this go."
Sakiya's bright, sharp eyes dimmed, the energy in them fading into something sorrowful.
Muraji tensed at the sight, suddenly flustered. His hands clenched and unclenched, his voice unsteady.
"Please… don't cry…"
Sakiya let out a frustrated sigh, shaking her head.
"Why… why are you like this?" she muttered. "Why can't you let go?"
She trailed off, struggling to find the right words.
Because she knew.
Hatred wasn't something you could just discard. It wasn't as simple as telling someone to move on. Even if it went against the bigger picture, even if it was meaningless—even if it meant marching straight toward death—some grudges were impossible to forget.
Muraji watched her, seeing the conflict on her face, and suddenly… he smiled.
"I never meant to betray the village," he said softly. "But what I've done… has already left a wound that can't be healed. I carry that guilt."
He turned back to Sakiya, his expression calm, almost peaceful.
"That's why… I ask you, Sakiya—end this."
Then, he bowed deeply.
"Kill me."
Gasps rang out behind him.
"No! Muraji!"
"What are you saying?!"
"Muraji, don't do this!"
But Muraji didn't move.
"If I die by your hand, I can leave with no regrets."
Sakiya stood frozen, her small hands trembling, unsure of what to do.
From the shadows, Kakashi watched, his heart pounding.
The moment Sakiya had stepped forward, he had known something would go wrong.
Now, things had reached a dangerous point.
Killing Muraji would end this rebellion—but she wasn't the one who should do it.
Just as Kakashi prepared to intervene, another voice rang out.
"Do you really think dying like this will change anything?"
_____________
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