Just as Shiki was leaning back leisurely inside the conference room, the door suddenly slid open.
Nara Shikaku walked in.
Not alone.
Behind him followed several Konoha ninja—faces stiff, postures rigid. The moment Shiki sensed them, his mood visibly dropped.
"These people are…?"
Shiki glanced at them with mild curiosity, his gaze lazy but sharp.
Before Shikaku could speak, one of them stepped forward.
"We are jōnin of the Sarutobi clan."
They didn't wait for an introduction. As members of the Hokage's lineage, their tone carried an unmistakable edge of arrogance.
Even standing before Shiki, they maintained a proud, self-important air.
"Oh?"
Shiki tilted his head slightly.
"No wonder. I could smell animals the moment you walked in."
"…You!"
They weren't idiots. The meaning was obvious.
Several of them flared up instantly, pointing at Shiki in anger.
"Huh?"
Before they could continue, Shiki's gaze shifted.
That was all it took.
The moment his eyes met theirs, their bodies stiffened as if frozen in place. The pressure alone made their throats tighten.
"If you've got something to say, say it," Shiki said flatly.
"If not—get out."
He waved his hand impatiently.
Shinnosuke was dead. Asuma was dead.
Shiki had zero intention of giving the Hokage faction even a shred of courtesy.
The Sarutobi jōnin were furious.
Ever since Hiruzen Sarutobi became Hokage, no one had dared speak to their clan like this.
But anger meant nothing before absolute strength.
No matter how unwilling they were, they didn't dare push further.
This was the authority that power brought.
"Ahem."
One of them forced himself to calm down.
"We are here under Lord Hokage's orders to request a troop transfer."
They clearly didn't want to admit fault, so they immediately changed the subject and moved straight to business.
"Troop transfer?"
This time, it wasn't Shiki who reacted but Nara Shikaku.
If it were just personal conflict between Shiki and the Sarutobi clan, Shikaku could ignore it.
But once it involved an actual war, he couldn't afford to be careless.
"What exactly do you mean by transferring troops?"
The Sarutobi jōnin glanced at Shikaku but didn't take him too seriously.
In their eyes, the Ino–Shika–Chō clans were loyal to the Hokage anyway.
"The Hidden Mist Village is mobilizing. Lord Hokage has personally led forces to the Mist front and ordered us to request troop transfers to support other battlefields."
"The battle hasn't even started yet and you're already asking for reinforcements?"
Shikaku's expression changed.
This wasn't a troop transfer at all.
It was clearly a request for help.
If they were losing, that would be one thing.
But asking for reinforcements before the battle even broke out… it was painfully obvious.
"Is there a problem?"
The Sarutobi jōnin looked completely unfazed, as if there was nothing strange about the order at all.
"…I see."
Shikaku shook his head helplessly.
He turned to look at Shiki.
As commander-in-chief of this front, the decision rested entirely with him.
Still, Shikaku already knew the answer.
Expecting Shiki to reinforce Hiruzen was unrealistic.
Sure enough...
"Ahem."
Shiki straightened slightly, his expression turning serious for the first time.
"The battlefield I'm responsible for is facing Kumogakure's elite forces—experienced, ruthless, and highly mobile."
"Right now, reinforcing another front is impossible."
"But," he continued casually,
"You can report this back to the Hokage. Tell him not to worry."
"At most one year. Once my battlefield stabilizes, I might consider sending reinforcements."
...
Silence swallowed the conference room.
Shikaku stared at Shiki without saying a word.
"One year…?"
The Sarutobi jōnin looked at him as if he'd just heard something insane.
Whether Shiki's battlefield stabilized or not was one thing but the Mist front wouldn't wait a year.
By then, the war would already be decided.
"And besides—"
One of them narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Isn't the Kumogakure front already stable?"
Everyone in the shinobi world knew it.
Shiki had severed the Third Raikage's arm and captured the Two-Tails Jinchūriki.
Kumogakure hadn't retreated, but they were clearly restrained.
In the short term, they had no ability to launch another large-scale offensive.
Shiki shrugged.
"The battlefield changes every moment."
"Anything can happen."
"You—!"
They were furious.
But there was nothing they could do.
Shiki waved his hand again, clearly annoyed.
"I believe the Third Hokage is more than capable of leading Konoha to victory against the Hidden Mist."
"Now get out. You're in the way."
"…!"
Their hands clenched.
One of them even rested a hand on his sword hilt.
Shiki looked at them calmly.
"You planning to make a move?"
His tone was light.
There was no killing intent.
But to the Sarutobi jōnin, it felt like thunder crashing directly into their minds.
This man wasn't someone they could afford to mess with.
"…Let's go."
After exchanging bitter looks, they turned and left the conference room without another word.
"Honestly," Shiki said loudly, not bothering to lower his voice,
"The Sarutobi clan really is a nest of instigators."
Whether they heard it or not—he didn't care.
Shikaku sighed quietly beside him.
Knowing the deep rift between Shiki and Hiruzen, he wisely chose not to comment.
At this point, all he could do was watch.
Watch who would ultimately win and who would lose.
Hiruzen's request for reinforcements wasn't just sent to Shiki.
Tsunade, stationed on the Sunagakure front, received the same message.
So did Jiraiya, fighting on the Iwagakure front.
"Tell the old man to figure it out himself."
Jiraiya rejected it outright.
It wasn't that he didn't want to help—he simply couldn't.
Facing Ōnoki, the Third Tsuchikage, was no joke.
Holding the line alone was already pushing him to his limits.
"There's no way I can spare anyone," he said impatiently.
"If I leave to support Kirigakure, this front collapses."
The messengers had nothing to say.
They bowed and withdrew.
Jiraiya stood there in silence for a long moment before letting out a long sigh.
"…Old man."
"You're not the shinobi you used to be anymore."
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