Mito Uzumaki had passed away.
But Konoha did not hold a grand public funeral.
Instead, the ceremony was kept low-key and private. After a few close friends and family paid their respects, the burial was hurriedly concluded.
If this had been an ordinary time, of course Mito's funeral would have been a monumental event worthy of her status.
But now? These were unusual times.
Anyone with the slightest sense of political awareness could feel that the international situation was unstable. War was in the air.
Under such circumstances, the death of a Jinchūriki was the kind of news you had to cover up for as long as possible.
Even within Konoha, only a handful of people knew that Kushina Uzumaki was now the new Nine-Tails Jinchūriki.
If news of Mito's death got out too soon, the other Great Shinobi Villages would go insane.
So Konoha made the choice:
Keep the secret as long as possible—at least until all the war supplies were ready.
...
Inside Konoha, a political earthquake erupted.
Without Mito's protection, many of the Senju-affiliated higher-ups were suddenly targeted.
Her death removed their greatest umbrella of support, and the opposition wasted no time kicking off their celebration.
One by one, key members of the Senju faction were removed from their positions under various pretexts.
Hoshiyomi and his circle of friends could only offer silent sympathy.
The time wasn't right. If they intervened now, not only would they be unable to help, but they'd also put themselves at risk.
Sure, the six of them together could shake things up if they wanted to.
But throwing the grenade too early would only result in wasted potential.
So for now, they chose to stay silent.
Even as Shimura Danzō rose to power.
That's right—Danzō got promoted.
He didn't need genjutsu, blackmail, or backroom conspiracies.
All it took was a private conversation, and Danzō went from a marginalized, sidelined elder to the new head of a special unit: the "Anbu Training Division."
That was just the official name.
Everyone would soon come to know it by a simpler name: "Root."
The reason was simple.
Without Mito, Hiruzen Sarutobi couldn't keep the major clans in check on his own.
To maintain his hold on the Hokage seat, Sarutobi had to rely on more than just Mito's influence.
He needed new strategies.
That's why he created the so-called Advisor Council.
Back in the days of Hashirama and Tobirama, there had been no such thing.
The advisory system was Sarutobi's invention—a tool to maintain balance.
By pulling representatives from both of Konoha's major factions into the council, Sarutobi made them fight each other like dogs while he kept his own hands clean.
Sure, he sacrificed some of his authority, but it prevented any single clan from growing too dominant.
When Mito was still alive, she held everything together.
But now that she was gone, the fractures in Sarutobi's system immediately began to show.
His influence wasn't enough anymore.
Without Mito's stabilizing presence, Sarutobi found himself unable to suppress the ambitions of the two major factions.
Yet he still couldn't bring himself to use dirty tactics.
Partly because of his own hesitant, indecisive personality.
And partly because of his carefully crafted "righteous and benevolent Hokage" image.
That persona was his ticket to the support of Konoha's civilian population.
If he ruined that image, not only would he fail to grab more power, he'd lose his entire political base.
That's when he needed a third party.
His longtime allies, Homura Mitokado and Koharu Utatane, didn't have the guts to take on the role of "necessary villain."
Neither of them wanted to become the person who "dared to offend the entire village."
Enter Danzō.
He reached out his hand.
There was no fiery speech.
No complicated deal-making.
Just one simple sentence:
"Whatever dirty work you can't do, Hiruzen—I'll do it.
Whatever blame you don't want to carry—I'll carry it.
You get to be the shining figure in the sunlight.
I'll be the unseen root in the darkness."
Of course, he didn't say it exactly like that. But boiled down, that was the essence.
Forget friendship—just the courage to volunteer as a scapegoat was enough to make Sarutobi want to applaud.
And so, Shimura Danzō officially rose to power.
The "Root Division" was quietly born.
At this stage, Danzō wasn't yet the arrogant power-hungry man he'd become in later years.
Right now, he was like a loyal dog, doing whatever Sarutobi asked without complaint.
He worked without rest. He didn't ask for rewards.
Wherever Sarutobi pointed, he would pounce.
When political opponents needed to be silenced, Danzō handled it cleanly.
The people who disappeared didn't vanish overnight.
Their deaths looked like accidents—so perfectly staged that no one could trace the events back to Danzō or Sarutobi.
And Danzō played his role perfectly.
Publicly, he looked like the loyal lapdog.
Whenever Sarutobi needed a scapegoat, Danzō would volunteer.
Whenever something dirty needed to be done, Danzō would step forward.
When punishment was required, Danzō would gladly accept it.
More importantly, Danzō understood Sarutobi's personality perfectly.
Whenever Sarutobi hesitated or wavered, Danzō would whisper strategic advice in his ear, analyzing the pros and cons.
He was more useful than a kunai, closer than a shadow.
People gnashed their teeth in secret, hating Danzō with all their might.
But they never realized: most of what Danzō did was with Sarutobi's full knowledge—and often at his command.
Thanks to his performance, Danzō's position rose steadily.
Even though everyone knew he was power-hungry, Sarutobi still couldn't bear to get rid of such a perfect scapegoat.
...
Despite Konoha's efforts to cover things up, there's one thing the shinobi world never lacks: spies.
Thanks to their tireless work, news of Mito's death leaked a few months later.
And the moment that news broke, it shattered the fragile peace that had held for years.
In Iwagakure and Sunagakure, mouths were practically watering.
Both of their Third Kage were ambitious men.
The Third Kazekage, Ryūnosuke, had a terrifying Magnet Release kekkei genkai, earning him the title of the strongest Kazekage in history.
Meanwhile, Iwagakure had spent the last two years developing their Jinchūriki and leveling up their military strength.
After years of rebuilding from previous losses, both villages had been calculating how to stir up a big event—one that could help them snatch back resources and repair their economies.
They'd long considered picking fights with Kirigakure or Kumogakure.
But it wasn't about revenge.
No, the real motive was simple: territory and resources.
Unfortunately, both Kiri and Kumo had shut their borders, hiding like turtles in their shells.
This left Iwa and Suna with no easy options.
They couldn't attack by land.
And as for fighting at sea?
Expecting Sunagakure to wage a naval war was like asking the Mongol Navy to conquer the Pacific.
So who else could they attack?
Konoha, of course.
But wait—you might ask—why target Konoha?
Simple:
Because they lost everything at Uzushio.
They came away from the assault on Uzushiogakure with nothing.
All the sealing techniques? Snatched by Kumo and Kiri.
So whose fault was that?
Well… Kumo and Kiri betrayed them, sure.
But if Konoha hadn't been so aggressive, would those two have backstabbed us?
When you count it up, it's obviously still Konoha's fault, right?
So get out here, Konoha, and take your beating!