In the weeks that followed, the people of Konoha began to notice quiet but undeniable changes within the Anbu organization.
Whispers drifted like smoke through the broken streets—rumours of vanished operatives, names struck from records, and unfamiliar masked figures taking their place. An eerie sense of reorganization pulsed beneath the surface, but no one dared voice it openly. The village, still trembling from the explosion, clung to routine like a dying man to breath.
As Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi stood at the center of this storm. He felt it in the sidelong glances of his advisors, in the unspoken questions hanging in every council chamber. Some praised his decision to avoid bloodshed in the past—others called it cowardice, a compromise that birthed catastrophe.
And deep down, Hiruzen couldn't argue. His actions had averted a civil war...But perhaps they had only postponed it. Or worse, bred something far more dangerous.
He couldn't shake the sinking weight in his chest—that this moment, this choice to let things fester in shadow, had set a precedent that would haunt Konoha's future.
The sky was beginning to brighten—a pale, ash-colored dawn breaking over the blackened skeleton of the Hidden Leaf.
Countless civilians gathered in the shattered remains of their home. Rubble dust choked the air, mixing with the acrid stench of scorched wood, burned metal, and seared flesh. Buildings that had stood for decades were now nothing but jagged silhouettes under the gray morning.
The explosion hadn't just crippled the village.It had erased it.
Eight years earlier than when the original Pain would have laid waste to Konoha, the Leaf now lay in ruins—its legacy prematurely ended.
And it had come in the night.
The silence of sleep had turned into the silence of death.
Because the attack struck during those vulnerable hours, casualties were staggering. Families never awoke. Entire bloodlines vanished between one breath and the next. There were no battle cries, no alarms—just sudden fire and final stillness.
Tens of thousands...Dead.
Men, women, children. Civilians and shinobi alike.Gone in an instant of crimson light and collapsing stone.
The survivors—dazed, soot-covered, trembling—stood in aimless clusters around scorched memorials, waiting. Not for aid. Not even for food.
They waited for answers.From Hiruzen Sarutobi.
But far away, Kaito and the others only listened to the news with cold satisfaction curling at the corners of their lips.
They felt no pity—only vindication.
To them, this destruction was justice. A reckoning.
For years, during the Uchiha clan's tenure as Konoha's police force, they had endured the villagers' hostility. Spiteful glares. Whispered slurs. A growing tide of contempt that had never made sense.
After all, the Uchiha had enforced laws. Arrested according to protocol. Kept order. Protected the very people who spat at their backs.
And yet... the villagers repaid this with suspicion and fear.
Why?
Because of whispers.Because of public opinion—a weapon sharper than any kunai.
And who had sharpened that blade?Danzo. The elders. The power behind the throne.
Whenever an Uchiha guard arrested a drunken, violent ninja to protect the peace, Danzo's agents would twist it into propaganda: "Uchiha abuse of power. Elitist violence. Hatred for their own comrades."
Villagers, already predisposed to fear the clan's Sharingan, didn't need truth. They needed a villain.
And the Uchiha made the perfect one.
It didn't matter that the Uchiha followed the rules.It didn't matter that they showed restraint.
What mattered was what the people wanted to believe.
And they believed the worst.
Behind the clan's backs, they called them tyrants. Monsters. Arrogant devils biding time for a coup.
The Uchiha knew of course—they were no fools. Their pride wouldn't allow them to grovel or explain. Even if they had, it wouldn't have changed a thing.
The damage was done.
And so the divide between Uchiha and village widened, deepened, festered.
In time, the villagers became instruments—ignorant pawns in Danzo's scheme. And like any weapon forged for war, they would face retribution.
To Kaito, their deaths weren't collateral.They were inevitable.
Konoha had once planned to eradicate the Uchiha—man, woman, child. Without hesitation.
Why then should he hesitate?Why should he care?
"Use their own blade, and return it to their throat."
He cared only for those bound to him by loyalty or blood.For everyone else?
"It's none of my business."
At the blackened gates of the Root base—hidden behind the broken cliffs—Hiruzen Sarutobi and Danzo Shimura emerged from the shadows, their steps slow but deliberate.
Both men's arms were wrapped in thick white bandages—mirroring each other in appearance, though not in purpose.
Hiruzen's were cosmetic, meant to mask his wounded pride and preserve the illusion of power. Danzo's, however, hid secrets. Eyes. Power stolen.
They walked together in silence, the air thick with smoke and scorched chakra residue. The dawn had done nothing to soften the smell.
They moved toward the largest remaining plaza—where the stunned villagers had gathered in the thousands, looking to their Hokage for truth.
Danzo broke the silence first, voice gravelly and cold.
"How are you going to explain this incident?"His tone was sharp, almost amused."If you can't... just do as I say."
Hiruzen turned his head slowly. His face, though masked with calm, showed the cracks of exhaustion."What are you planning to do?"
Danzo's single visible eye gleamed.
"Put everything on Kaito and those rebels."
"Just say—Kaito planned a rebellion, discovered by Fugaku. Fugaku, loyal to the village, reported it and negotiated with us for peace."
"But Kaito... betrayed them. He colluded with powerful enemies from outside the village and attacked us during the negotiation. We fought bravely—hundreds of Root and Anbu gave their lives—but in the end, we drove them out."
"Only then did we discover he had planted hundreds of explosive tags across the village.""And Itachi? Provoked by Kaito's madness, he slaughtered the peace-loving Uchiha who stood with Konoha. Only his younger brother survived the purge."
Hiruzen's eyes widened. His mouth moved, but no words came at first. Finally:
"You're pushing everything onto Kaito?!"
His pupils constricted, and his voice dropped to a deadly whisper.
"You saw what he's capable of. If we provoke him with this lie—if we paint him as the monster—he'll make sure Konoha never rises again!"
Danzo didn't flinch.
"So he doesn't hate us now?"His voice was iron."He reduced our village to ashes. We're the ones who barely survived."
"If we don't blame him, do you think he'll feel... grateful?"
Hiruzen went silent.
The truth was bitter and inescapable.Konoha and Kaito were locked in a death spiral now.If either found an opening, they'd finish the other without mercy.
Danzo stepped closer, lowering his voice but not his tone.
"And Kaito's strength... is not unlimited.""His powers are bizarre, yes. But such techniques consume enormous chakra."
"He left us alive for Shisui's eye—not out of mercy. If he had enough chakra, he would've taken Itachi's Mangekyō too."
At that, something flickered in Hiruzen's gaze—like a fog lifting.He'd been so overwhelmed by the destruction, by the loss of Enma, that he hadn't truly thought.
But now...
Danzo's logic took root.Kaito was strong—but not invincible.
And during the massacre... there had been only a thousand Anbu and Root.Konoha still had ten thousand trained shinobi.
If it came to war, they could wear him down.Kill him.
Slowly, Hiruzen nodded.His expression darkened, hardening into that of the Third Hokage—not the old man filled with regret.
"Very well," he said."I'll follow your lead."
The two exchanged grim smiles.The burden of fear lightened. A twisted camaraderie bloomed.
Their steps quickened as they approached the stage—ready to shape the narrative, to twist fire into justification.
But neither of them realized...
That in just one night, Kaito's strength had undergone earth-shattering change.
What had once drained him to the edge of death...Now flowed through him effortlessly.
And he was watching.