The square in front of the Hokage Building was packed.
Genin, Chunin, Jonin and Anbu. Whether civilian-born shinobi, or clan-born shinobi. In total, nearly a thousand.
This was Konoha's last line of defense.
No one spoke. The only sound was the winter wind slipping between the rows, carrying the weight of an enemy that had yet to appear but was already pressing on every chest.
A thousand wasn't much. Konoha's main forces were still locked in battles far from home. The war had dragged on too long; there'd been no chance to call them back.
Against four great nations, numbers were always scarce. The only reason Konoha still stood was because its enemies hated each other too much to join forces completely. If they had, the village might already be ash in the snow.
From the top floor balcony of the Hokage Building, a figure stepped into view — Hokage's robe and hat stirring in the cold air.
Sarutobi Hiruzen.
He was about fifty, broad-shouldered, far from the weary elder he would one day become.
In the shinobi world, fifty was still prime — chakra preserved the body, sharpened the mind. This was the "Professor" at full power.
Hiruzen removed his hat and bowed deeply, his voice rolling across the square, amplified with chakra.
"Because of my mistakes in command, Kumogakure and Sunagakure have broken deep into the Land of Fire, bringing Konoha to the brink of disaster. I cannot escape the blame..."
"I know bowing alone changes nothing. So I will say this: after this war, I will resign as Hokage and let new blood lead the village forward."
"My death would be a small thing, but I ask this of you — do everything in your power to protect our home. Do not let the legacy of our ancestors fall here."
He bent forward again, unmoving.
A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd. For many, frustration and doubt softened at the sight. Shinobi lived by duty; they could forgive mistakes if the one in charge stood ready to bear the weight.
Gen felt only partial respect. Where was this humility before the enemy stood at our gates?
Still… better to face a mistake and try to fix it than to deny everything. That was worth something.
"Defend Konoha to the death!"
The cry came sharp from somewhere in the ranks.
Others answered, voices swelling into a single wave.
"Defend Konoha to the death!"
"Protect Konoha to the death!"
The square thundered with unity.
Gen raised his voice with the rest — not out of loyalty, but because standing silent in this moment was dangerous. Protect Konoha? Please. If things turn ugly, I'm gone. My life matters more than some stone walls.
When the roar faded, Hiruzen spoke again.
"All units, follow Shinnosuke to the southeast. We'll set defenses there. I'll join you after I change into my combat gear."
Sarutobi Shinnosuke — Anbu Commander, his wife the deputy — stepped forward and leapt away. The shinobi followed, streaming across rooftops and cliffs, skimming through the dense forest as if the terrain didn't exist.
By the time they reached Kikyo Mountain's ridge, four masked Anbu dropped before Hiruzen, who had caught up in full battle gear.
The leader knelt. "Hokage-sama, Kumogakure and Sunagakure are less than forty miles away."
"What? So fast?" Hiruzen's expression hardened.
"Send word — Jonin and Special Jonin to prepare for immediate contact. Another battalion to slow their advance. Don't engage too long; fall back when necessary."
"Yes!"
The messengers vanished in blurs of movement.
Hiruzen stood on the ridge, eyes sweeping the endless treetops. The wind clawed at his robes. For a moment, the worry showed — then it steeled into resolve.
No matter the cost, they will be stopped here.
Under Jonin command, barriers and traps rose quickly across the terrain, Kikyo Mountain at the center of the defense.
Konoha's veterans had survived years of blood and fire. There was no panic, only the efficient rhythm of preparation.
In the Uchiha sector, Gen was about to move out when Yashiro's voice stopped him.
"Gen. Stay a moment."
Gen turned calmly. "Captain Yashiro, orders?"
"During the fight, stay close to me."
Gen understood instantly — protection. A captain keeping a clan prodigy in sight.
No wonder I wasn't assigned a team, he thought. Privilege of genius. Nice… though it makes certain tricks harder to pull off. The battlefield was perfect for harvesting souls — enemies everywhere, and no guilt.
"Thank you, Captain," Gen said aloud. "But I don't need special care. The Uchiha were born for battle... I'll make it out alive."
Yashiro studied him, then nodded. "Fine. I'll make you a squad leader, then."
Gen hesitated, lowering his gaze with just the right shade of grief. "Captain… after last time… I'd rather not lead again."
He didn't have to say more. Yashiro remembered — the captain and teammates Gen had watched die, the moment his Sharingan advanced to two tomoe.
"I see." Yashiro's voice softened. "You're strong, but acting alone is dangerous against groups. Have you thought this through?"
"I have," Gen replied. "I'll target Genin squads, pick them off with surprise and division tactics. No head-on fights. If it's a Jonin squad, I disappear."
A faint smile touched Yashiro's lips. "Good. Stay sharp."
Gen bowed and slipped away, already choosing his hunting ground.
The battle was coming.
And for him, it was an opportunity.