Arata didn't push his speed to the limit on the way back.
His earlier battle had drained a great deal of stamina, and matching Shiyan's pace—half waiting on him, half catching his breath—wasn't a bad compromise.
He knew that once he returned to camp, things wouldn't calm down so quickly.
Because even though he had taken down Sarutobi Sasuke today, the real target—Sarutobi Hiruzen—was still alive. Their political struggle was far from over.
A daimyō dying might look catastrophic, but Arata understood how that system really worked. Daimyō never publicly revealed their surnames. Even if one died, the transition was handled quietly—just a messenger, a sealed announcement, and done.
Most people assumed the successor was a child or relative, but since coronation ceremonies were always small and restricted, the Hokage could simply install any loyal candidate he wanted.
That was why, unless Arata killed Hiruzen himself and seized the Hokage seat, killing any number of daimyō was pointless.
...
When Arata finally returned with Shiyan, they saw a tense standoff at the camp gates.
Thankfully, both sides wore Konoha forehead protectors—otherwise someone might've mistaken it for the start of a war.
Arata quickly scanned the scene.
Good—none of his men were dead. His reward depended on that.
Blocking the camp entrance stood the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, flanked by nearly a hundred ANBU and close to two full units of regular troops.
Hiruzen himself sat with his eyes closed, as if patiently waiting for someone.
Meanwhile, Arata's unit of civilian-born shinobi were on edge.
They'd just learned about the Third's earlier orders—orders that would've sent them to die.
They knew perfectly well this old man never intended for them to come back alive.
Just as tensions peaked, Arata appeared.
The civilian shinobi exploded with relief.
"Told you! Arata-sama doesn't die that easily!"
"He's back! And he took on the Raikage and two jinchūriki!"
"I'm following Arata-sama from now on—only someone like him deserves to be Hokage!"
"Hey—maybe don't say that right in front of the Third…"
"Hmph! Compared to Arata, the Third Hokage is all bark and no bite!"
Hiruzen heard every insult.
Not a twitch. Not a glare.
He simply stepped forward with a practiced, gentle smile.
"Arata, I've heard of your accomplishments—gravely injuring the Third Raikage, forcing the Eight-Tails back into its beast form, sending the Two-Tails fleeing… Truly worthy of carrying on the Will of Fire."
Arata nearly laughed.
He knew this man's true feelings.
Hiruzen definitely already knew Arata killed his father.
And yet here he stood—calm, pleasant, pretending nothing had happened.
That alone told Arata that the old man had evolved into a true political machine—one without emotion, hesitation, or a beating heart.
"So, Lord Third," Arata said lightly, "what brings you to my battlefield? I was under the impression command here belonged to me."
Hiruzen didn't miss the jab.
He smiled as if it didn't bother him.
"I've coordinated with forces from the Land of Rice and the Land of Iron to cut off Kumogakure's retreat. But manpower is short. I'd like to requisition your three squads."
Simple words—but Arata immediately understood.
The Third was trying to steal the credit.
Kumo had already lost the Eight-Tails and the Raikage was unconscious.
Leaderless, their army would crumble under a decisive pursuit.
If Arata led that pursuit, his reputation would overshadow Hiruzen's in a single night.
And that was something the Third absolutely could not allow.
Arata turned to his men.
"If my people are willing, I don't mind. Do you want to go?"
The civilian-born shinobi erupted instantly.
"Go? So we can be cannon fodder again?"
"No way—I follow Arata-sama!"
"Whoever goes must have brain damage!"
"Not happening! Even if I die, it won't be for him!"
"If Arata-sama leads the pursuit, I'll go! Not the Third!"
"He just wants easy credit after Arata-sama did all the hard work!"
"It's disgusting—Arata fights monsters, and now the Hokage shows up? Too late!"
Their voices rose, years of resentment boiling over.
The insults grew sharper. More direct. More vicious.
Even the Third Hokage's chakra fluctuated—he was angry.
But he also knew the worst part:
They weren't wrong.
If he'd shown up earlier, these men might have followed him.
But he hadn't.
Because even he knew he wasn't strong enough to face the Raikage and two jinchūriki.
Arata smiled.
His men were now completely loyal.
"Well, Hokage-sama," Arata said lightly, "they say they're not willing. Nothing to do with me, of course."
Hiruzen's face didn't break, but his decision was instant.
He turned away.
He wasn't about to march with only two units, even with allied forces.
Kumo's elites—nearly ten thousand strong—were mostly intact.
If his personal loyalists died in a reckless pursuit, he'd lose power instantly.
And beyond that, the pursuit might cross into foreign territory.
Hiruzen would never risk putting himself in someone else's domain.
Self-preservation had always been his strongest trait.
As Arata watched him walk toward Konoha's direction, he understood perfectly.
The old turtle had chickened out after all.