Exhaustion.
That was the most visceral feeling shared by both sides after three consecutive days of bloody combat. Whether it was Konoha or Iwa, the sentiment was the same.
Yet, as weary as they were, they were the lucky ones. At least they were still alive to feel it.
After two more brutal skirmishes, nearly five hundred more shinobi from each side would never see the dawn of the next battle. The field hospitals of both camps were overflowing with thousands of wounded—some crying out in agony, others staring numbly at the ceiling, and some nursing a bitter resentment as they watched a steady stream of fellow casualties arrive to share their plight.
Hiruzen Sarutobi, who had spent three days in grueling close-quarters combat with Ohnoki, felt a bone-deep fatigue. He was no longer a young man. Twenty years ago, he might have been able to fight Ohnoki for three days and nights without a break, but now, even with intermittent lulls in the fighting, his back and joints throbbed with a persistent ache.
The only small comfort—the one thing that gave him a glimmer of secret satisfaction—was that Ohnoki, who was several years his senior, was in even worse shape. During yesterday's clash, the old man had actually managed to throw his back out.
However, the moment Hiruzen thought of the mounting casualties, his expression grew grim once more.
He couldn't understand what Ohnoki was holding out for. If this continued, the only ones who would benefit were Kumogakure and Kirigakure, who were still content to watch from the sidelines. He didn't believe for a second that Ohnoki was too blind to see that.
Perhaps everyone just needs a graceful way to back down, Hiruzen thought, recalling the intelligence behind Iwa's hurried declaration of war. That was the only logical conclusion he could reach.
The world of adults was full of compromises, but it was even more defined by the stubborn need to "save face." If they were back at the village, hidden from the eyes of their subordinates, they could have quietly negotiated a deal for the sake of mutual interest. But here, under the watchful eyes of nearly twenty thousand shinobi, he had to endure for the sake of the Hokage's prestige.
Regardless, at least he wasn't the one who had tweaked his back.
As she stepped onto the battlefield once more, Yakushi Nonou felt a persistent sense of unease, as if something terrible was looming on the horizon.
Was it intuition? No, not entirely.
Last night, she had received another set of orders from Danzo. The first half was standard: Continue to monitor the Namikaze brothers closely.
But the second half gave her pause.
"When necessary, feign an injury to delay their progress!"
Why would she need to fake an injury? When would it be "necessary"? And whose progress was she supposed to be delaying?
She didn't have the answers. She could only bury her doubts deep within her heart, following the Namikaze brothers into the fray with a heavy, apprehensive spirit.
For Hatani, these three days had been a surreal, fragmenting experience.
On one hand, he was surrounded by the horrors of war. Ninjas from his own village were being maimed or killed constantly; their screams and the copper scent of blood assaulted his senses at every turn.
On the other hand, over these three days, he had accumulated nearly three thousand Gold Coins. Furthermore, perhaps because "honing his skills" in actual life-or-death combat provided more "Experience Points," his progress with Kenjutsu was skyrocketing. The cost required to unlock the Juggernaut template was plummeting like a crashing stock market graph.
This massive windfall—the kind of "payout" one might expect from a high-stakes heist—filled him with an almost uncontrollable surge of excitement. At one point, a dark, malicious thought even flickered through his mind:
How great would it be if this war never ended?
He had immediately terrified himself with that thought. He felt as though, under the system's intentional guidance and catalysis, he was developing sociopathic tendencies.
Fortunately, he snapped out of it quickly. Even without him, this cruel war would continue. And less than a decade after this conflict ended, an even more devastating Great War would break out. War was the eternal theme of this world. Being trapped within it without grand ambitions, the best he could do was look after himself and those close to him.
To do that, he needed enough power to resolve any crisis that came his way. The system was simply the best tool for that job.
Still, he offered himself a silent warning. The system is a tool. Don't let the tool control you. Don't become a puppet whose eyes see only gold, willing to sacrifice everything for the next coin.
Unaware of Nonou's anxiety or his younger brother's internal moral struggle, Minato watched the situation grow increasingly desperate. His hand slipped into his ninja tool pouch.
The cold touch of a kunai made his heart tighten. He instinctively loosened his grip, his eyes reflecting a trace of hesitation and uncertainty.
The Flying Raijin Jutsu was indeed incredibly difficult to master.
However, being naturally gifted and having used Hatani's Blink Dagger to perceive a similar teleportation sensation thousands of times without risk, he had finally grasped the jutsu.
But he had only just learned it. He wasn't proficient. He needed time to practice in a controlled environment—ideally a month—to fully master the technique. He wasn't sure if he should take such a massive risk by using an unpolished jutsu in the chaos of a lethal battlefield.
He understood now, with perfect clarity, the dangers Jiraiya had warned him about. Being lost forever in the void of space, or being torn to shreds by unpredictable spatial rifts...
If it were just him, he might have cast caution to the wind. But when he thought of Kushina, and when he thought of Hatani, he hesitated.
However, as he watched Tsunade walk back from the field hospital, her face etched with exhaustion; as he thought of the agonizing wails echoing from the tents and the rows of fallen comrades being collected every day; and as he felt the growing dread and weariness of the shinobi around him, his hesitation finally vanished.
'My hesitation will only cause more people to lose their lovers and families. Kushina and Hatani don't want anything to happen to me, but everyone else feels the same way about their own kin. I can't be this selfish! I want to protect more people. I want to ensure their loved ones don't have to grieve!'
With his resolve hardened, Minato reached out once more and gripped the kunai marked with the Flying Raijin formula.
This time, it didn't feel cold. His heart was burning with purpose.
Beneath that specific kunai, over a dozen more—each bearing the same spatial formula—lay waiting like an elite squad of soldiers. They were silent, ready, and waiting for their commander to give the first order.
It was the order that would launch a name that would soon make the entire shinobi world tremble.
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