Even if it meant the Sarutobi clan would fall into peril, Danzo was certain: the Shimura clan would never have become prisoners!
Humiliation. It had already spread across the entire ninja world.
As the supreme commander of the battlefront, he had been captured alive by the enemy. A disgrace that would be carved into history.
Danzo knew exactly how enemy shinobi would speak of him in the future. But even so, he would never allow anyone from Konoha to speak of it—not a single whisper!
He also knew he couldn't publicly blame Senju Yukika for not rescuing him, since his own orders had been for Yukika to hold the line. Admitting fault would be slapping his own face.
Still, he couldn't let this incident pass.
As Yukika and the other shinobi turned and left, Danzo's eyes flickered coldly. Their accounts would be settled. Sooner or later.
...
Land of Rain.
On a mountain outside the Konoha encampment.
Sakumo Hatake sat calmly on a wet boulder, the rain pouring down on his scarred and battered body.
By any normal measure, sitting like this was practically suicide.
But White Fang had long grown used to pain.
Or perhaps it was numbness now.
He didn't know what the point of it all was anymore.
He had given everything—his life, his loyalty—to save his comrades. And in return? Blame. Accusation. Betrayal.
Why live?
What was the purpose?
He was lost.
Such disorientation rarely plagued an elite jōnin, let alone someone on the verge of reaching Kage-level.
But once it sank in, it was hard to shake.
It was a demon of the heart.
A question that could no longer be avoided.
Now, all he wanted was a little peace. Even if it meant letting the heavy rains of the Land of Rain swallow him whole.
He just wanted silence.
"Ever feel like killing him?"
Yukika dropped beside him with a sigh, rain streaming down his face.
"You want the truth?" Sakumo turned stiffly, a bitter smile on his lips.
"In that moment—yeah, I did."
"But my body wouldn't let me."
"My upbringing wouldn't let me."
"And neither would my pregnant wife... or my unborn son."
Too many chains.
Yukika patted his shoulder. He understood that feeling all too well.
In the original timeline, a Kage-level powerhouse like Sakumo had been driven to suicide by the same people he saved. If not for Kakashi, he might've broken free—even through blood.
Timewise, Kakashi's birth wasn't far off now.
And by the time his whole class graduated, the Third Great Ninja War would erupt.
The gap between the Second and Third Wars was frighteningly small.
"This might not be the best time to ask," Yukika said, tilting his head, "but... did you see his true face?"
"If I didn't, I'd be blind."
Sakumo's tone was calm.
"Then what if I told you... the Third Hokage is cut from the same cloth? Maybe worse."
"Would you believe me?"
Politicians. All carved from the same mold.
Sakumo didn't reply.
But he didn't deny it either.
And that silence meant something.
He was starting to think.
Why had he been stripped of his command?
Why had Danzo dared to override the Hokage, removing all of Sakumo's authority, branding him a scapegoat for a lost battle?
Was the Hokage really... innocent?
Even Sakumo couldn't make himself believe that.
Yukika saw it in his face. The answer he wanted was there.
He stood up and began to descend the mountain path, one slow step at a time.
His voice echoed in Sakumo's mind—not just through the rain, but deep inside his soul.
"If you want the truth... if you want to live again—"
"Then stop sitting there like a broken tool."
"Follow my lead, and start a new life..."