Chapter 57
Hiruzen sometimes felt lost, reminded that he wasn't truly of this world. Sometimes it felt like what he spoke wasn't what others heard. And then the other way around—when someone spoke to him, it felt like they weren't speaking of what he was hearing.
Not because of the language, but because he couldn't follow the meaning of those words. Sure, he hadn't been paying attention for most of the conversation, but now, when he was expected to respond, he realized he had no idea what was going on.
The words weren't foreign. The logic was. The intention of the people speaking was alien to Hiruzen. So, he could never comprehend it. But what could he have expected?
This world was absurd, and perhaps the people in it were equally absurd. So, to understand them, he would need to be as absurd as they are. And he would rather not go crazy, maniacal murderer route. At least not in this life.
"And what kind of price would that be?" Dodai asked suddenly, forcing Hiruzen's attention back. The old shinobi's directness threw him off. "The war, as chaotic as it is, has always followed one rule. The victor takes all."
For all his faults, Hiruzen always thought that he spoke without too much of a hidden agenda. He always tried to be direct so that people would understand him. He had no leisure for misunderstandings to occur. And yet there come people who simply do not listen.
Dodai was as old as Hiruzen, at least in appearance. That meant he was dangerous, practiced in the art of saying little and implying much. Hiruzen needed to tread carefully. He still didn't know what Kumo's actual plan was, but he could feel this conversation was leading somewhere dangerous. And he wasn't in the lead.
"And who is the victor?" Hiruzen asked, thinking how bold it was for him to say so when his jinchuriki lost to Yamato. "That has yet to be decided."
"Is that your stance, Hokage-sama?" Dodai didn't ask. He stated. "I am just a lowly shinobi. I hold no position of influence, and I am not authorized to speak on behalf of the Raikage. So, I apologize, but this isn't a burden I can shoulder."
"An action of a shinobi is an action of their village," Hiruzen said, not letting Dodai sidestep responsibility and dismiss the problem. "Blood was spilled. Homes were destroyed. For what? Because shinobi believed it was in their village's best interest. Because they were taught, ordered, and shaped to believe that. So, who pays the price? The shinobi who followed, thinking they were in the right, or the innocents with nothing left?"
He could already imagine the mountain of paperwork that would soon land on his desk: damage reports, rebuilding costs, infrastructure estimates. Even if the destruction was just a fraction of what the Nine-Tails caused, it was still a fraction of an astronomical total. And Konoha had no money. Worse, Hiruzen didn't yet know how much support he would lose from the Daimyō.
The last thing Hiruzen thought he would be worried about was money. But aside from conspiracies and secret schemes from the other villages, it was the number one thing that threatened him and Konoha's future.
"War is nasty business," Dodai replied, confirming Hiruzen's belief: Watch out for the old ones. They're always the most dangerous. "One mistake can lead to death. A mission's failure. There's no room to question orders. No room for doubt."
War? Hiruzen didn't like how serious Dodai was trying to sound. This was just a test. Or at least, it was supposed to be. Now it sounded like a prelude to war—or worse, an excuse for one. Dodai was testing him, trying to bait him into minimizing the Chūnin Exams' importance, into making light of Konoha's position.
And worse, no one else had spoken up. Making it seem that Hiruzen was the only one who thought differently. He didn't dare to take his eyes off Dodai, as it would indicate that he was doubting himself and looking for help. It was better for Dodai to think he had the upper hand.
Whatever Hiruzen said next had to be careful, precise. He wouldn't repeat the mistake he made with the Fire Daimyō's official. Now, he knew—an old man in politics is as dangerous as a jōnin in the field.
"This is war, you say. A place where people die, where everyone loses something. You must have seen it many times. Lost many comrades, even yourself, in the heat of it all. And after all you have experienced, can you then swear that every order you gave and received was the correct one? Can you truly say you have no regrets?"
He couldn't make bold statements, but he could ask bold questions. And yet, Dodai's lone eye didn't even flinch. He only looked back at Hiruzen, like he wanted to ask the same question and hear Hiruzen's response.
"I would have regretted it far more if I had doubted myself," the man said simply.
It took all of Hiruzen's self-control not to strangle him, because Hiruzen saw that the Kumo Jonin truly believed it. He believed that everything they did and everything they would do was right. He hated that kind of arrogance the most, as it was everything that he wasn't.
Dodai was stonewalling—calmly, relentlessly. While Hiruzen could only stand here and look at him with restrained rage that shouldn't belong to an old man like him.
There was no point continuing. They were at an impasse. And if Hiruzen tried to push it further, he would lose out. Hiruzen had to wait. Dodai wasn't the one he should speak to, as the Kumo jōnin was a soldier. An old soldier who would not falter under any pressure and wouldn't listen to any words that didn't come from his higher-ups.
Glancing at Killer Bee, Hiruzen thought it better to leave him alone, too. He would rather have him quietly scribble in his notebook, absorbed in his creativity so much that nothing else seems to exist. Well, as long as he was out of sight, he would be out of Hiruzen's mind. So, he had no other choice.
For now, he backed off.
"Very well," he said, turning to address the room. "Then the question is—do the rest of you feel the same? Does everyone here believe they will have no regrets?"
Peer pressure. It was his last card to play in this room. If he could sway the majority, even Kumo would struggle to stand against them. And every single one of them had to gain far more from Konoha than they will ever gain from Kumo.
"You ask a difficult question," Yashamaru said. "But I guess I should not expect anything else from you, Hokage-sama. However, before I attempt to answer this question, I would like to pose one of my own. Have you ever regretted giving out an order for your shinobi to follow?"
"Every single time." There was no hesitation in Hiruzen's response.
They might think of him as they wish. Weak-hearted and willed, Hiruzen knew who he was. And from the moment he came into this world, he made countless decisions. And every single one of those decisions wasn't the best he could have made. So, he came to regret them all as he reflected on them over time.
"That's a dangerous thing to say," the jōnin from Amegakure responded. "A leader must never doubt himself. What would your subordinates think if they knew that the one they follow can't be trusted?"
"I am tired," Hiruzen replied, suddenly realizing that there were soldiers who did their duty as they saw fit, and then there were people like this man. "A tool that doesn't even know what he fights for is worthless in my village. I don't wish to discuss this anymore with those who cannot think for themselves. People who have nothing to fight for. No dreams or ideals. No purpose. People like you, your words are meaningless."
Hiruzen thought wrongly. He could not rely on any of them. If he wished to live in a world where one person decides the lives of thousands, he would have let Danzo take over. But as much as he hates this work, he would hate to live in that kind of world far more.
In the end, it didn't even matter. He is sure that the village will survive even if the budget is a bit tighter than usual. And he is certain that Konoha will continue to prosper, regardless of the circumstances.
And so, what if they try to play some filthy tricks against him and his village? Hiruzen only needs to crush them. There isn't anything that he or Konoha can't handle. As long as even one shinobi is left in Konoha, it will never fall.
Leaving them, Hiruzen returned to his office. It was quite sad that this became a place he would return to, rather than his own house. It was pretty lonely here, even while surrounded by ANBU operatives who protected him every waking moment; it was cold and dark.
The empty teacup sat on the wooden table, forgotten since the start of the first test. The smell of the incense that would calm Hiruzen down was fading as well, just as he belief that he could prevent war with those lunatics, who wouldn't even listen to his words.
"Shizune, report on how the test is going as soon as something happens. I will go rest for a bit."
"As you wish, sir." Shizune was the only one who brightened the office. "But are you alright, sir?"
"Is nothing. I am just upset that some people have disappointed my view of them," Hiruzen replied. "Tell me, would you call me out if I ever made a stupid decision or gave out a wrong order?"
"Sir, I don't know where you get the idea you can get away by doing something stupid, but if I heard you doing so, I would call Tsunade-sama to punch some sense into you."
"Thank you. You are a great shinobi, Shizune. Far better than those fools who destroyed my village and won't accept it as their fault and won't even consider paying me back."
...
How?
Did he know?
No. Impossible. The plan was airtight. Every minute detail accounted for. Every step was calculated numerous times. Every single divergence was thought of.
And yet… his words struck deep. They hurt. They made him question everything. And now alone, he could only ask himself the same question.
Would he regret this?
Even now, as the plan unfolded, that doubt haunted him. Why was he doing this? What good would it bring? Was this really right? Or was he just doing this because he was told? Without a thought about it. A mindless tool.
But his orders were absolute. He wasn't in a position to question them. He had to obey—no matter the cost, even if it meant unleashing a bloodbath, even if it meant killing innocents and destroying homes.
Even if his and their lives were at stake? They were just children. They had no conflict with anyone until they pushed them into one. Their lives were in his hands. With one order, he could halt the plan from proceeding, and only he would bear the consequences.
Would that stop him from regretting it in the future? Or would doing so make his village's future crumble before his eyes? He didn't know what was right or what was wrong. No matter which path he took, it seemed that he would regret it. So, as cowardly as he was, he once again let others decide his path.
Even if it shattered the fragile foundation Hiruzen and Konoha were trying to build, even if it plunged the world back into a bloodbath and created mountains of corpses.
But that was the goal, wasn't it?
Konoha was too strong. Too stable. Too full of potential. Compared to his village, it felt like a state of despair. His leaders must feel it too. Always behind. Always chasing Konoha's shadow.
A cold, endless shadow.
He couldn't change his orders or himself. For his village's future, he had to do this—no matter the price.
A.N. As always, thanks for reading and supporting me, so I can continue writing without any concerns, and if you want more, up to 7 more chapters and 28 chapters in total with all my other stories, you can support me on pa treon. com \ ironwolf852.