"Eighty years ago, in that Warring States era when conflict was constant and human lives were treated as nothing more than grass, there was once a young child who stood where I stand now, gazing out over this land."
Shinichi's voice was clear and steady, yet it seemed to carry a power that pierced through time itself.
"He saw the ninja clans slaughtering one another, hatred like iron chains locking generation after generation into a vortex of bloodshed and revenge."
"He saw children who should have been holding toys and laughing in their parents' arms, forced to pick up swords taller than themselves—their tender faces stained with blood, their bright eyes losing their light amid killing."
"He saw comrades fall behind him, loved ones die before his eyes—figures who laughed together yesterday, reduced today to cold names carved into gravestones."
"He saw countless lives vanish like morning dew, gone before the sun even rose."
"More than anyone, he deeply understood that pain—the agony of wanting to protect something, yet being utterly powerless to do so."
"And so, within that child's heart, a dream arose—one that seemed impossibly distant, yet would come to illuminate an entire era."
"A dream that one day, ninja clans trapped in generations of blood feud and mutual slaughter could lay down their hatred; that their children could sit in the same classroom, share food beneath the same tree; that they could entrust their backs to one another, instead of aiming for each other's hearts."
Below the stage, in the area where the Uchiha clan had gathered, many people unconsciously tensed slightly. Teachers from the Department of Education and the Ninja Academy wore complex expressions, their gazes distant, as if they were seeing something unfold before their eyes.
"A dream that one day, children would not have to learn to grip a sword before learning to read, would not be forced to understand death and killing before they understood love and beauty—that their childhoods should be filled with swings, cicadas, warm food, and the laughter of companions."
Among the crowd, many parents instinctively reached out, pulling their children gently into their arms, softly stroking their hair.
"A dream that one day, ninjas from different clans, bearing different surnames, could stand side by side for a shared belief and duty of protection; that the word 'comrade' would become an unshakable bond of trust and life-and-death reliance, rather than someone from another clan to be wary of—or a disposable tool to be sacrificed at any moment."
In the area where representatives of the various ninja clans stood, quite a few people's eyes flickered. Their gazes briefly met those of people from other clans, only to quickly look away again. A heavy, indescribable silence lingered in the air.
"A dream that one day, there could be a place where all weary ninjas could lay down their blades and rest in peace; where civilians wandering through a chaotic world could find shelter and live stable lives; where dreams, laughter, hope, and the future could take root and grow—a place that would stand like a towering tree, shielding all who longed for peace and tranquility."
At these words, the expressions of every Konoha villager in the square changed unconsciously. A deeper, warmer emotion began to stir in their eyes.
"This dream was so grand, so difficult, that to the people of that time, it may have seemed nothing more than a child's delusion."
"But that child carried this dream, step by step, and became a great ninja."
"This great ninja—together with his brothers, his closest friends, his comrades, and countless pioneers who shared the same vision—used all their strength, their wisdom, and even their lives to pursue that dream!"
"And thus, Konohagakure was born!"
As his words fell, everyone instinctively raised their heads, looking toward the First Hokage's majestic and dignified face carved into the Hokage Rock. Then they looked around at the familiar streets, houses, and shops—and at the neighbors and loved ones living beside them.
A warm current of gratitude, recognition, and deep belonging flowed silently through the still crowd, resonating from person to person.
All of this—the ordinary peace of everyday life—began with a child, in that blood-soaked era eighty years ago, with a dream that was once incredibly precious… and even mocked as naive.
"Today, we stand here before the statues of this great ninja and the two great successors who inherited his will. We gather under the watchful gaze of countless martyrs who gave their lives for that dream!"
Shinichi's voice suddenly rose, clear and powerful as it echoed across the square.
"Eighty years of time have allowed a seed once buried in the heart to grow into a towering tree! Konohagakure has become the shared home of all of us—a symbol of peace and prosperity in the shinobi world. In many ways, the First Hokage's dream has already become a reality within our reach: children can study in schools instead of fighting on battlefields; ninjas from different clans can fight side by side; civilians can live in safety within these walls!"
His gaze was sharp as a blade, sweeping across every face below—faces immersed in memory and emotion—yet his tone suddenly shifted, carrying a grave and resolute force: "But today, we must face a cruel reality!"
"There are those—certain people, certain forces—who have never understood, and refuse to understand, the value and greatness of this dream! They see only the prosperity of our home, only the peace of our lives—and regard it as wealth to be plundered, as weakness to be trampled!"
"They live in wind and sand, in barren lands—and believe it only natural to seize fertile territory!"
"They are trapped among mountains and ravines—and believe that occupying rich plains is the right of the strong!"
"Their internal conflicts run deep, their rule is twisted—and so they seek to redirect the flames of war outward, using the blood of others to extinguish the fires within!"
"They see that we cherish our families, and think we fear sacrifice! They see that we love peace, and think we are weak! They see us building our home, and believe it is a granary and treasury prepared for them!"
Shinichi's voice grew ever more impassioned, each word striking like a hammer against the hearts of the people: "But they are wrong! Gravely mistaken!"
"We cherish because we understand the pain of loss! We love because we have seen the abyss of hatred! We build because we believe that labor and wisdom can create the future!"
"The dream of the First Hokage, Senju Hashirama-sama, was never one of bowing our heads before blades in cowardice! The systems established by the Second Hokage, Senju Tobirama-sama, were never meant to collapse like sandcastles before invasion! And the peace protected by the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen-sama, is not a tribute to be taken at will!"
He spread his arms wide, as if embracing all of Konoha, his voice piercing the sky: "Today, we gather here and look up to the glory of our predecessors—not to seek comfort in memory, and certainly not to bow our heads before the coming storm!"
"We stand here to declare to the entire shinobi world!"
"The seed of the dream sown by the First Hokage, Senju Hashirama-sama, has endured eighty years of trials and has long since taken root deep within the blood and souls of every Konoha citizen!"
"It has never faded, never withered—and it will be us, this generation, who will use our lives, our blood, and everything we have to defend it, to protect every piece of ordinary happiness it has given rise to!"
"We fight not to revel in the thrill of conquest, nor to plunder the wealth of others!"
"We fight so that the flowers of Konoha may continue to bloom in the next spring!"
"So that children walking home from school can keep their laughter forever clear—untainted by the flames of war and the cries of grief!"
"So that the lights of family reunions may remain ever lit, warming every loved one who returns home!"
"So that every ordinary day we cherish—hard-won, filled with the warmth of everyday life—may continue on!"
"It is precisely because we have these things that we understand the pain of losing them more deeply than anyone else—and thus, our will to protect them is more resolute than anyone's!"
"It is precisely because we love that we understand the cost of hatred more clearly than anyone—and thus, the blade of our counterattack will be sharper than any other!"
"The prosperity of the Land of Fire was carved out by our predecessors with sweat, and sustained with wisdom! The peace of Konoha was seized by our martyrs with their lives, and fortified with their conviction! Every inch of this land, every fragment of this tranquility, is steeped in the blood, sweat, and prayers of our ancestors!"
"If anyone insists on forcing war upon us! If anyone insists on trampling everything we hold dear with iron and fire!"
"Then this—this is my answer, the answer of all of Konoha!"
"We will fight on the borders! We will fight among forests and rivers! We will fight across mountains and plains!"
"We will never surrender! We will never yield!"
"No matter how long and arduous the road ahead! No matter how brutal and merciless the battles to come! No matter what price must be paid!"
"We will fight to the very end!"
"Until the dawn of victory once again shines upon our homeland!"
"Until the bells of peace once more ring across the skies of the shinobi world!"
"Because behind us lies our home—there is no path of retreat!"
"Konoha will never fall!"
"The Will of Fire shall endure forever!"
As the final word fell, Shinichi lowered his outstretched arms and stood quietly. On the high platform, only the sound of the cold wind sweeping past the flagpole remained.
Across the square—dead silence.
Hundreds of thousands seemed to have their breath seized all at once, staring blankly up at the figure on the platform.
After a brief void, it was as if every emotion—passion, fury, resolve—had been compressed to the absolute limit, waiting for a single point of rupture.
Boom!!!
The dam of silence collapsed completely! The suppressed emotions erupted like a raging flood and tidal wave!
"Long live Konoha!!"
"Long live the Land of Fire!!"
"Fight to the end!!"
"Protect our home!!"
"The Will of Fire endures!!"
"Long live Konoha! Long live the Land of Fire!!"
At first the cries were uneven, but they quickly merged into a unified, rhythmic surge—wave after wave crashing against the heavens.
"Long live!!"
"Long live!!"
"Long live!!!"
The sound shook the land and pierced the sky.
Men roared, women screamed, elders cried out hoarsely, youths shouted with piercing clarity—hundreds of thousands of voices converging into a single, violent roar infused with one shared will, surging upward!
The sound was so overwhelming that even the platform seemed to tremble, as if the leaden gray clouds above might be driven apart by this boiling tide of public will and battle intent!
Amid this seething ocean, Obito stood with his mouth wide open, shouting with all his might alongside the crowd, his face flushed red with excitement. He didn't know why he was shouting, nor even what he was shouting—only that he had to shout, had to pour every ounce of strength into it!
Rin clutched her clothes tightly at her chest, tears brimming in her eyes, her lips trembling as she joined the chorus.
Kakashi quietly watched the figure on the platform, then glanced at the surging crowd around him—his eyes flickering with a complex yet bright light.
Behind the platform, the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, gazed upon the boiling sea of public sentiment below, and at the lone figure of the young man standing at the forefront, bearing all the cheers and attention.
He slowly, deeply inhaled from his pipe, then exhaled. Amid the curling smoke, his gaze was profound and complicated—there was relief, there was resolve, and there was also a trace of quiet reflection.
And at this moment, the one who had caused all of this—Higashino Shinichi—remained standing before the microphone.
The tsunami-like cries of "long live" crashed toward him, nearly swallowing him whole, the wind whipping his clothes and hair.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, facing those hundreds of thousands of blazing gazes. There was little excitement on his face—only a deep, steady calm.
Yet within the depths of his consciousness, a tremor far more real than the cheers was taking place.
The text representing the trait [Charisma (Green)] wavered on the verge of collapse—then shattered with a crash.
A pure, deep azure light burst forth, like wings breaking free from a cocoon. As it unfurled, it replaced the original green glow and stabilized within the sequence of talent traits.
[Presence (Blue): You have begun to condense an intangible aura of leadership. Your words and actions naturally carry an air of authority and persuasion, allowing others to feel at ease and trust you, and to be inclined to agree with your views and follow your guidance and arrangements.]
No one knew what had happened, yet in that instant, everyone looking toward the platform felt a subtle jolt in their hearts.
The boy's figure still stood in the same place, his posture still straight—but in everyone's eyes, something about him had changed, subtly yet profoundly.
As if he had become a natural focal point.
A natural convergence of will.
As if his presence there was simply… inevitable.
As if his words were truths meant to be followed.
"Long… live!!"
After that fleeting tremor, the roaring chants sweeping the entire field did not weaken—instead, as if fueled by something purer and more intense, they surged to an entirely new peak!
More fervent!
More unified!
And more utterly resolute!
On the platform, the three closest to Shinichi—the Third Hokage Sarutobi Hiruzen, Utatane Koharu, and Mitokado Homura—were almost simultaneously stunned.
They looked at the boy's still youthful yet resolute profile, and for a moment, it felt as though time had reversed.
As if they were seeing that man from decades ago—who once stood in this very place and stirred the entire village into fervor.
Far away, in a hidden corner, Danzō stood silently.
His gaze pierced through the crowd, through the cold wind, through all the noise, and landed on the boy's face.
That shadowed face revealed nothing.
But within those eyes, something flickered faintly.
A moment later, Shinichi stepped back. Only then did the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, come back to his senses. He drew in a deep breath, shaking off that brief sense of temporal dislocation.
His gaze sharpened like an eagle's as he stepped forward steadily, returning to the microphone. Raising his hand, he pressed it downward.
As if by magic, the deafening roar of cheers began to subside rapidly, like a receding tide. The entire crowd held its breath, all eyes fixed on him, awaiting the final command.
The Third Hokage's gaze swept across the crowd—across every face filled with excitement, resolve, or tension—as he spoke solemnly: "I, Sarutobi Hiruzen, in the name of the Third Hokage of Konohagakure, and in the name of the supreme military commander of the Land of Fire, hereby formally declare!"
"From this moment onward—"
"The Land of Fire and Konohagakure—"
"Are entering a state of war!"
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