His body trembled violently, like he was forcing down panic with every breath.
What, exactly, are you so afraid of?
Fugaku walked up to the daimyō with a smile, planted a foot on his chest, and leaned down.
In a voice that sounded almost playful, he asked softly, as if teasing over something trivial.
The daimyō glared at Fugaku with all his strength. Hatred boiled in his eyes, ready to spill out.
"What I intend to do," Shuoye said flatly, "is not something you're qualified to stop."
Sorrow flooded the daimyō's heart, thick and bitter, choking him from the inside.
"Hahahaha…"
A burst of manic laughter suddenly rang out.
"Don't believe him! He doesn't understand rules—he's just feeding his ambition!" the daimyō screamed. "Guards! Protect me! I'll make him Hokage!"
He roared himself hoarse, hate burning hotter and hotter, to the point it was hard to believe he still had his mind.
Fugaku frowned. He hadn't expected things to spiral like this.
"Is that so?"
Shuoye's gaze hardened. He looked at the daimyō with cold indifference.
"Then we'll see."
"Hahaha—how arrogant!"
The daimyō threw his head back and laughed like a madman. He had no road left but death or resistance. Humiliation filled his chest until it hurt to breathe.
Just then, a black shadow rushed in from outside the wooden house.
The newcomer's face was livid. He held a long blade in his hand—thin frame, sallow skin, eyes tight with panic.
"Do not harm the daimyō!"
He dropped to one knee, fists clenched, sweat beading across his brow.
"Musashi!" the daimyō shouted, voice bright with feverish excitement. "Teach him a lesson!"
A vicious gleam flashed in the daimyō's eyes, as if he couldn't wait to see Shuoye torn apart. A bloodthirsty smile crept onto his lips.
The blade swung with a howl of air, cleaving straight for Shuoye.
"Die."
Shuoye let out a quiet laugh and lifted his right hand, fingers closing on empty space.
Crack!
A sharp, brittle sound split the air.
"AAAH!"
The daimyō and the guard screamed at the same time.
Both of them exploded into mangled flesh.
The remaining attendants froze, faces drained of color.
"Y-you… you actually killed the daimyō! Do you understand how much chaos this will cause?!"
"Just a daimyō," Shuoye said, unconcerned. "What's so important about that?"
Then his tone turned casual, almost conversational.
"But that seat does need someone smart."
He glanced at Shikaku.
"How about you, Shikaku?"
Shuoye's clear, unwavering eyes locked onto him.
The moment the words landed, shock hit Shikaku like a hammer.
He drew in a breath, staring back as if he'd misheard.
"Me… as daimyō?"
"Of course, Shikaku."
Shuoye smiled faintly. Invisible pressure bled through his calm.
"I need someone willing to take risks—someone bold enough to build something new for the Land of Fire."
"I believe you can bring change."
Shikaku's heartbeat quickened. Shuoye's every word echoed in his skull.
His gaze drifted toward the window—toward the vast land outside. Endless green forests, winding rivers, sunlight spilling across it all.
Somewhere out there, commoners were living their small lives, waiting for a chance they didn't even dare to name.
And him—Nara Shikaku—was being handed the chance to guide that change.
"Shuoye-sama!"
Shikaku straightened, voice firm with a resolve he'd never spoken aloud before.
"By the name of the Kage—I swear the Nara clan will submit to you completely!"
"Mm."
Shuoye nodded once, satisfied.
With that settled, the next step could begin.
Shikaku hesitated, then frowned as another concern surfaced.
"But… opening Konoha's ninja academy to civilians across the Land of Fire—won't that cause unrest?"
"No village places its military structure among the people. That's unheard of."
Shuoye smiled, steady and unshaken, like the outcome was already in his hands.
"Reform has never been easy."
"But if you never try, you'll never know."
He turned to Fugaku.
Fugaku was already prepared. He opened a thick plan, the rustle of paper echoing through the room like drums announcing a future marching closer.
He set it in front of Shikaku—pages filled with months of careful thought.
Shikaku read, line by line, absorbing the details.
Classification of jutsu. Teaching restrictions. Enforcement and oversight.
Clear. Precise. Built like a road laid down in daylight.
"This…" Shikaku said slowly, voice deepening with conviction, "could change the shinobi world."
Then he exhaled, decision made.
"Let's do it."
At that moment, Shuoye's expression cooled again, his tone turning absolute.
"And those nobles who still refuse to accept it—kill them all."
The room tightened.
Shikaku's heart jolted. His mouth twitched as he glanced at the daimyō's surviving attendants, complex emotion flickering in his eyes.
The attendants looked at each other, feeling the invisible blade hovering at their throats.
They chose silence.
This was a warning—meant for them.
"Lords… since it's settled, then we—"
One attendant, Yamamoto, swallowed hard. Before he could finish, Shuoye lifted a hand and cut him off.
"Don't rush."
Shuoye's voice was calm, deep—like he could see straight through people.
"…Huh?" Yamamoto stiffened.
As he started to turn, Shuoye spoke again, stopping him in place.
"Stay."
"Watch a good show."
A faint, mysterious smile tugged at Shuoye's lips, leaving Yamamoto even more uneasy.
Right then, an Anbu shinobi hurried into the Hokage building and reported in a low voice:
"Lord, the major villages are moving. They appear to be gathering forces."
Shuoye's eyes brightened with a soft, amused glint, as if the report only confirmed what he already knew.
"The show… finally begins."
He rose, gaze turning sharp toward the distance.
Shuoye's arrangements had always been thorough.
In this era, information mattered more than raw strength.
That was why he had deliberately scattered Konoha's top shinobi around the borders of every major village—eyes and ears watching every shift.
"Other villages keep their elite jōnin inside to protect themselves," Shuoye thought. "Only Konoha can afford to send its strongest out on surveillance."
It was luxury—
And it was power.
As Shuoye's thoughts settled, the heads of Konoha's major clans arrived one by one, faces grave. They had already heard about the movements beyond their borders.
Shuoye drew a slow breath, stood, and swept his gaze across every person in the room.
"Enough."
"Konoha has been quiet for too long."
"So every village watches us like wolves, waiting for a crack—waiting to tear off a piece the moment we slip."
"Even after we proved ourselves."
His voice stayed calm, but carried weight like iron.
"Even after we destroyed two villages."
"And now they're coming again."
Then Shuoye dropped the news:
At least two great villages had already allied, preparing to attack Konoha.
"They think Konoha is weak."
"They think we're sheep who stumbled into strength by luck…"
"And they're hungry wolves who can bite whenever they want."
He looked straight at the shinobi before him, eyes blazing.
"But they're wrong."
His voice rose, ringing through the hall.
"Are you willing to fight to the death for Konoha?"
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
"I'll kill for Konoha until my last breath!"
The answer came like a tidal wave.
Clan shinobi shouted until their throats burned, swearing they would stand for Konoha.
The sound shook the Hokage building itself.
And then—
Even civilians poured in.
They carried weapons. Their eyes were steady. They said they would die for Konoha.
The sight struck everyone hard.
Yamamoto stared, shaken to the core.
He had never seen unity like this—an entire village twisted into a single rope, ready to pull through a storm.
"…Maybe Konoha really can win," he thought.
Then Shuoye's gaze landed on him.
That look held both expectation—
And warning.
Yamamoto's spine went cold.
If he returned home now, and Konoha won, he could easily "die" for any reason at all.
Better to stay.
Better to gamble everything.
Yamamoto straightened, meeting Shuoye's eyes as if saying:
I'll live or die with Konoha.
"All right," Shuoye said. "Go prepare."
"After this war…"
He inhaled, voice dropping into something final.
"There will be only one ninja village left in the shinobi world."
The moment he finished, everyone moved.
Konoha entered a state of urgent, organized war preparation.
Shuoye personally directed drills and training, making sure every shinobi could bring out their full strength when the war arrived.
Civilians organized themselves as well, providing logistics and supplies.
The village tightened—not into panic, but into order.
Yamamoto watched it all, stunned.
He had never seen soldiers so fearless, or a village so united.
But he also knew—
This war would not be easy.
Deep in a forest near the Land of Fire's border, Iwagakure's and Sunagakure's allied forces met in silence.
Ōnoki, the Third Tsuchikage, stood with a tight frown and a sharp gaze, looking toward Chiyo—Sunagakure's elder, and a legendary puppet master.
"Where are the others?" Ōnoki demanded, irritation and suspicion in his voice. "Don't tell me it's only our two villages."
He had expected more to join them against Konoha.
But so far—
Only Sunagakure was here.
Chiyo's expression was ugly as well. Confusion and anger twisted in her chest.
Did those villages really stand them up?
She clenched her teeth, forcing herself to swallow it.
"This isn't the time to argue."
"Maybe they're still on the way," she said stiffly, trying to soothe Ōnoki. "Let's wait a little longer."
Ōnoki snorted, full of disdain.
"Yagura and the rest aren't all that. If I use Dust Release, they'll kneel."
"What's there to worry about?"
"Even without those villages, we can still bite a chunk out of Konoha this time."
His words dripped with confidence.
But Ōnoki didn't know Sunagakure's home had already been stolen from under him.
He didn't know Shukaku had already been captured.
If he did…
He might not be standing here so smugly.
Chiyo, in her heart, cursed Iwagakure's arrogance—too far away, too sheltered, too fearless of consequences.
But she had no road back.
Sunagakure had been destroyed. Shukaku had been taken.
She couldn't escape blame.
The only way to wash it clean was victory.
At Ōnoki's side stood Rōshi, the Four-Tails jinchūriki, and Han, the Five-Tails jinchūriki.
Their eyes held clear displeasure at Ōnoki's carelessness.
Rōshi stepped forward, about to warn him—
But one sharp look from Ōnoki stopped him cold.
"Ōnoki-sama," Rōshi forced himself to say anyway, voice controlled, "our forces are strong, but Konoha is not weak."
"Especially their Hokage—Shuoye. His methods are cunning, and his strength is… difficult to measure."
"We should be cautious, in case we fall into a trap."
He didn't finish, but his meaning was obvious.
Ōnoki only laughed, eyes full of contempt.
"Shuoye? He's just a kid."
"My Dust Release isn't for show."
"Relax. I know what I'm doing."
Rōshi and Han's dissatisfaction deepened.
They remembered the arguments they'd had back in the village—how they opposed attacking Konoha, and how Ōnoki's pride had drowned out reason.
Now, it wasn't getting better.
It was getting worse.
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