That mission had been nearly a week ago, and the Konoha ninja had returned to the village a few days prior.
However, everyone who came back wore grim expressions—actually, it could be said their faces looked absolutely terrible.
It wasn't only because many ninjas had suffered serious injuries or several comrades had died during this mission—the real reason was that a very important figure had perished.
The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, who had governed the village for decades, had lost his life during this mission, sacrificing himself for the sake of the village!
The news of Hiruzen Sarutobi's death quickly spread throughout the village with no attempt at concealment.
Everyone who heard the news believed they were still caught in a dream from which they hadn't yet woken up.
Although in recent years, Hiruzen Sarutobi rarely appeared publicly, his overwhelming strength had always been deeply etched into everyone's memory.
Without such immense strength, how could a leader like him steer the village forward?
But suddenly one day, someone told them that this elder, already considered a symbol of the village, had died on a mission.
It felt like a cruel dream that couldn't possibly be real.
Konoha Village.
The sky was overcast, looking as though rain would fall at any moment. The entire village was shrouded under a veil of gloom, unusually quiet and somber.
Today was a special day—the day of the Third Hokage's funeral.
The atmosphere in Konoha today was tranquil yet oppressively heavy, filled with a stifling silence.
Creak!
A door swung open, and a man dressed entirely in black stepped out.
His expression was stiff, his eyes filled with sorrow.
As he exited his front gate, many others dressed similarly began emerging one after another from surrounding houses.
Their expressions were almost identical—grief mixed with uncontainable anguish.
Most of them were elderly, having lived through the period when the Third ruled the village, thus possessing deeper feelings toward him and fully understanding how hard-earned and extraordinary his achievements had been.
Dong!
In the distance, a bell tolled, its sound echoing across the entire village.
Wordlessly, everyone began gathering in one direction. They exchanged no greetings—only brief nods before lapsing into silence again.
...
At Konoha Hospital, within a ward:
"Shisui, you're too badly injured—you shouldn't go."
Itachi Uchiha spoke to a young man who was trying to climb out of bed.
He gently pressed Shisui back onto the bed to prevent him from moving too much and risking further injury.
"Itachi… help me up."
Shisui's face was pale. He had remained in the hospital ever since returning a few days ago. Although treated promptly, his recovery had been extremely slow.
Lying there, Shisui's upper body was wrapped in layers of bandages soaked in medicinal ointment.
"But…"
Itachi's injuries weren't as severe as Shisui's, so he had been able to get up and walk normally a day earlier.
"I'm fine, believe me!"
Shisui gave Itachi a slight smile, conveying both determination and conviction.
"Well… okay then. But don't move around recklessly—I'll support you."
After a moment of thought, Itachi reluctantly nodded.
Shisui's injuries were far worse than he had imagined. That he could recover this much within just a week already stunned many medical ninjas.
"Good!" Shisui laughed, though his eyes soon fell upon the bandages across his chest. Pain and determination flickered briefly in his gaze.
This was his greatest prize—and a souvenir—from his mission, left behind by his former comrade.
"Hiss!"
Itachi carefully took hold of Shisui's shoulders and gently lifted him up. As soon as pressure was applied, Shisui let out a cry of pain—the wound on his chest tore open again, spilling fresh crimson blood.
"This..."
Itachi looked at Shisui with concern.
"It's fine. Just help me get a dark-colored piece of clothing."
Shisui acted indifferent. Compared to the anguish deep inside his heart, physical wounds felt trivial.
Injuries only touched the body, but the true agony came from Saitama's spiritual blow.
He actually killed me—held absolutely nothing back—as if I were an enemy! Saitama did it without hesitation!
This was something Shisui never expected, something he hesitated to believe.
The man who once spoke so many inspiring words, filled with wisdom and motivation, eventually walked down a path that could be described as thoroughly abnormal!
The Third's death made everything irreparable. Shisui himself no longer believed anything could mend things either, since he had been "killed" by Saitama's own hands.
Itachi also moved very slowly. Though less injured than Shisui, his injuries remained severe, making his movements appear stiff.
"How about this one?"
Itachi asked.
"Works for me."
Without lifting his head, Shisui answered.
In another ward nearby, two other patients resided—Kakashi and Might Guy.
Kakashi's injuries healed far better than Guy's. Guy bore not only injuries from Saitama, but also aftereffects from using the [Eight Gates] technique.
"Hey, Guy, I'll go ahead first. What do you want for lunch? I can bring it back for you."
Kakashi was already fully dressed. Although his injuries didn't show outwardly, his exposed skin looked pale while his eyes carried signs of weakness.
Guy, due to both injury and lingering effects, still felt numb all over even after returning days ago. He couldn't gather enough strength to participate in The Third's funeral ceremony today.
"Kakashi, thank you! Just order ten portions of barbecue. I've lost my appetite from being injured."
Lying on the bed, Guy stared straight ahead, his expression serious, thick eyebrows furrowed tightly together.
"No problem. If anything happens, just call the nurse. I'm heading out now!"
Upon hearing Guy's request, Kakashi rolled his eyes instinctively. Ten portions of barbecue—what nerve to claim having no appetite! But as a Jonin, Kakashi could afford that small expense without concern. Without further ado, he turned and started walking outside—he still needed to check on Obito, whose recovery showed promising progress. Obito even visited them yesterday.
After watching Kakashi walk away, Guy silently fixed his stare forward, his gaze oddly contemplative.
His hands at his sides, Guy slowly clenched them into fists, crushing the bedsheets with growing intensity.
"If my previous efforts still fall short of achieving my goal," Guy declared with determination, his eyes flashing with resolve and a fearless expression spreading across his face. "Then I will work twice as hard! Just wait and see!"
He could still vividly recall the feeling of helplessness during his battle with Saitama—how he had unleashed [Eight Gates Technique], yet his move was effortlessly countered with a single punch.
There weren't many things he wanted to protect—just this village that held so many memories for him.
The more he wanted to protect, the more he realized how powerless he truly was. That realization ignited a fierce determination inside him—to become stronger, no matter the cost!
Bang!
As Kakashi shut the door, he happened to see Obito walking out of the ward.
Their gazes met midair.
If it were the old Obito, he would have greeted him with a cheerful smile. But this time, Obito simply stared at Kakashi before finally managing to mutter a few words:
"Let's go together."
Kakashi noticed the change in Obito, gave a silent nod, and understood exactly what Obito meant.
"How's your injury?"
They started walking toward the stairs together when Kakashi casually asked.
"It's much better now. Actually, mine might be the lightest among the three of us…"
When he mentioned this, Obito's face darkened slightly, his eyes flashing with shame.
Even now, he could still feel how carelessly Saitama had treated him—as if brushing off an annoyance—and underestimated him.
Truthfully, Saitama treated their fight like it was nothing at all.
This filled Obito with deep shame.
Though he wasn't a genius like Shisui, his talent was considerable. Otherwise, he wouldn't have advanced to Jonin rank at such a young age.
However, on this mission, Obito realized just how naïve and arrogant he'd been before.
The outside world and its powerful experts were far greater and more numerous than he had ever imagined.
Even someone several years his junior like Saitama wielded such overwhelming power that he could crush Obito without even trying.
It gave him a new kind of motivation—not like his earlier rivalry with Kakashi. Now, he simply wanted to stop being so weak and powerless, hoping instead to protect those he cared about in battle—people like...
Obito, Kakashi!
Walking side by side down the hallway, just reaching the stairwell, a female voice suddenly called out from behind them.
The voice was crisp and clean, carrying a faint ethereal quality.
Rin!
Obito turned around, a slight smile forming.
Kakashi didn't say anything, maintaining his usual cool demeanor, but still nodded politely at the girl before them.
"Are both of you going to the funeral ceremony for The Third?"
Carrying a folder and wearing a white coat, her hair tied neatly into a ponytail at the back, she looked professional and neat.
"Yeah, aren't you coming today, Rin?" Obito nodded.
In the past few days at the hospital, Rin had looked after him well, checking in every day to see how he was doing. He used to feel happy about it… but lately, it had turned into a source of embarrassment.
Receiving such attention only made Obito feel useless.
"I'll skip it for now; there are still several patients waiting for me here. Maybe I'll go lay some flowers later in the afternoon."
Rin's eyes flickered with sadness over the passing of The Third. Although he and The Third hadn't interacted much, he had always held great respect for this elder.
"Alright then, we'll go ahead! You're busy!"
Obito didn't stubbornly hang around like he used to. His tone was calm—a big change for him after the mission.
"Okay!"
Rin smiled, her eyes sparkling as she glanced at Kakashi before turning away toward a ward.
"Obito, you've really changed a lot!"
Kakashi glanced sideways and noticed that Obito had already turned his gaze away from Rin's retreating figure, speaking these words thoughtfully.
"People always need to grow, don't they, Kakashi?"
Obito turned around and headed downstairs, his back appearing somewhat upright and solid.
"Hehe…"
Kakashi shook his head and followed closely behind.
It was good that Obito had become mature and serious—he indeed used to be too wild. This new version of him was just fine.
...
Since that day, Jiraiya hadn't appeared again.
Though he never voiced it, Jiraiya really was one of the most broken-hearted people.
The death of The Third had come far too suddenly for him.
He had originally believed that with Saitama's strength, The Third was only temporarily trapped—but things hadn't turned out the way he'd hoped.
If only he had known sooner, perhaps he would have stopped Saitama no matter what on that day.
Creak!
The wooden door in front of Jiraiya swung open, revealing a familiar figure stepping inside.
"Tsunade, why are you here?" Jiraiya sat cross-legged on his seat, several empty bottles scattered across the table in front of him.
Drinking so early in the morning had already brought a slight flush to Jiraiya's face.
"The old man's funeral will begin soon. Let's go—we need to pay our last respects."
As soon as Tsunade walked in, she smelled the alcohol. Her eyebrows slightly furrowed before she spoke directly to Jiraiya.
"Yeah, I'm coming!" Jiraiya stood up and grabbed a jet-black coat hanging nearby, pulling it over himself.
Tsunade also pulled a black coat over her everyday clothes.
"Let's go see him off!"
Jiraiya approached Tsunade and gently patted her shoulder.
"Alright!"
Side by side, they stepped outside, both wearing white armbands tied around their left arms.
As disciples of The Third, it was their final duty to see him off.
Their backs looked somewhat desolate—even Jiraiya's broad shoulders now seemed slackened somehow. A wave of sorrow rose in his chest, one he couldn't hide.
...
"Uncle Asuma, why has Grandpa been asleep all the time?"
Konohamaru wore black clothes with a white armband tied around his arm, confusion etched onto his young face.
Because of his youth and The Third's protective care, he hadn't yet encountered the cruelty of the world, so he couldn't fully understand the meaning of "death."
Ever since a few days ago, his grandfather had remained motionless with his eyes closed, not speaking to him, which made Konohamaru feel uneasy and upset.
"That means Grandpa has gone far away… and won't be waking up for a very long time."
Asuma gently placed his hand on Konohamaru's head, his expression filled with grief.
"Oh!"
Konohamaru looked half-pleased and half-perplexed as he nodded, simultaneously noticing his grandmother standing nearby.
Sarutobi Biwako's eyes appeared somewhat reddened. She told Konohamaru the strong wind in the village had gotten to her eyes.
Though not fully understanding these things, Konohamaru still handed his goggles to his grandmother — a birthday present previously bought for him by his grandfather.
"Hokage-sama!"
Asuma gave Konohamaru a light pat on the shoulder, motioning for him to join Biwako before heading toward Minato.
"Asuma, accept my condolences."
Minato nodded slightly, his eyes also reflecting sorrow.
"I understand."
"We should head over now; others will arrive soon."
Minato said to Asuma. As the Fourth Hokage, he was presiding over The Third Hokage's funeral ceremony, thus needing to arrive earlier than everyone else.
"Okay." Asuma gave a slight nod. Looking past Minato, he noticed various Konoha shinobi arriving one after another.
...
Before long, time passed again. Those who were supposed to come had arrived, and the funeral ceremony for The Third Hokage gradually commenced.
Standing in front of The Third Hokage's coffin, Minato's gaze swept across the surroundings.
Hizashi Hyuga from the Hyuga clan, Fugaku Uchiha representing the Uchiha family, Shikaku, Inoichi, and Choza from the Ino–Shika–Cho triad (a legendary ninja alliance), Shibi Aburame from the Aburame clan, Gaku Inuzuka representing the Inuzuka clan, and other important figures from different ninja clans...
Of course, there were many villagers born outside shinobi families, along with regular civilian residents.
They had all come here to honor The Third, an elder who had dedicated his entire life to the village. Regardless of any mistakes he might have made, they would always hold him in the highest regard as their revered predecessor.
Everyone wore dark-colored clothing, expressing sadness — some even shed tears...
"Today, we gather here together..."
Minato began his speech. It was a necessary formality, yet also a chance to strengthen unity within the village.
Time passed as Minato concluded his address, leading them to the next phase — offering flowers to honor The Third Hokage.
Asuma stepped forward first. As The Third Hokage's own son and the one most closely related by blood, he certainly deserved this position.
Following immediately behind him was Minato.
The coffin had already been lowered underground, and a huge tombstone erected above it, recording the great achievements of The Third Hokage during his lifetime.
There was a black-and-white photo attached to the tombstone. Within the image, The Third Hokage was smiling, exuding energetic vigor — his expression filled with contentment and pride, seemingly proud beyond measure at witnessing the prosperity of the village.
"The village will be protected by me, respected Third. Rest in peace! And as for Saitama Uchiha and Akatsuki, I promise you I shall eliminate them, preserving the hard-won tranquility of our village."
Minato spoke solemnly, almost like taking a sacred vow, or making a major resolution.
After speaking, he placed the white flowers he carried respectfully before the tombstone, then turned and left.
This turning point had helped him realize several things, giving him the resolve he needed.
Right behind him followed Jiraiya and Tsunade.
"Old man, who'd have thought your departure would come so suddenly? Don't worry — from here on out, I've got things covered. You'll get your answers!"
Jiraiya's tone was slightly mischievous, a cryptic smile lingering on his lips — one no one could quite decipher. Yet the aura radiating from him was intensely focused and stifling.
"Old man, it won't take long!" Tsunade stood beside Jiraiya, her fists clenched tightly.
She knew that if not for her interference that day, Jiraiya would've definitely kept fighting.
And if she'd stood by The Third back then, maybe things could've been different.
Of course, saying such things now was pointless. Still, Tsunade knew she had to change or she'd forever be the one holding others back.
Setting aside the bouquet, Jiraiya and Tsunade turned and walked away.
Behind them, several other figures stepped forward...
...
"Alright, done!"
Saitama eyed the Coffin ahead of him and clapped his hands together to seal the ritual — watching silently as it began to sink beneath the earth.
This was The Third's Impure World body. Originally during the battle, he had also collected some of Shisui's blood, but strangely enough, the Impure World technique had failed.
Clearly, Shisui had surprised him by actually surviving.
"With unlimited Chakra in this body, combined with The Third's mastery-level command of five-elemental release jutsu, this could truly be considered an ultimate weapon!"
Saitama was extremely satisfied. His tongue started toward his lips, but abruptly stopped mid-motion.
He had unconsciously imitated Orochimaru after spending so much time around him.
"Never thought that old man, smart as he's been all his life, would finally end up falling into your hands..."
Orochimaru wore a peculiar expression—something indescribable.
In his heart, The Third held a very high status. Having lost his parents at an early age, Hashirama and Jiraiya had become the people who filled the void within his heart.
It was impossible for him to feel nothing about The Third being killed by Saitama.
But for certain reasons, Orochimaru didn't really care about life or death.
Life and death are not always black and white.
A person dies twice: once when the heart stops beating, and again when their name is spoken for the last time.
Yet in the Shinobi World, especially in the hands of someone like Orochimaru, life and death were merely toys—manipulatable objects.
"The job here is done. I'm heading out — anything you need before I go?"
After finishing work on The Third's Impure World body, Saitama spoke to Orochimaru leaning against a nearby wall.
Separating from Jiraiya, he had taken some time getting to Orochimaru's Secret Base located in River Country.
"No need for any help. Everything is perfectly normal."
Crossing his arms, Orochimaru's facial expression remained unchanged, still wearing that strange smile as he gazed at Saitama.
"Do you still remember that boy Sin?"
Suddenly recalling something, Orochimaru asked Saitama.
"Mm, what about him?"
Saitama slightly pondered. His powerful memory ensured he hadn't forgotten that youth capable of harmonizing even Hashirama's cells within his body.
"I've used him as a model to create several clones, implanting upon them every Kekkei Genkai we've gathered. The results have actually been quite satisfying!"
Licking his lips, Orochimaru explained further. His ideal had always been to collect all truths of this world.
And Kekkei Genkai were fragments of these universal truths—something that allowed him glimpses of reality's deeper essence.
If he could gather all of them into himself, he would come even closer to the ultimate truth of the world.
"That does sound pretty good!" Saitama nodded. He understood what Orochimaru meant. Judging from his behavior, those clones might become Orochimaru's "Clones" or vessels.
"Lord Orochimaru, dinner is ready!"
While the two were chatting, another male voice interrupted—it was Kimimaro.
Right now, Kimimaro stood at the entrance, looking at Orochimaru, still wearing an apron around his body.
"Alright."
Orochimaru nodded and then walked toward the dining room.
Kimimaro slightly turned his head and gave a nod to Saitama as a greeting.
"Let's go eat something first."
Even though they were villains, they still needed to eat—otherwise they'd have no energy to stir up chaos.
Saitama shrugged and eyed Kimimaro strangely.
Though Kimimaro still wore that cold expression, it seemed like he really enjoyed cooking for Orochimaru.
...
"That's interesting... That guy Saitama really likes stirring up chaos!"
In a pitch-black place, a somewhat frivolous voice rang out.
"It doesn't matter, as long as he's still under our control!"
"Still, you should pay more attention to his cooperation with Orochimaru. That Orochimaru seems to be collecting something throughout the Shinobi World."
Another voice spoke up, sounding deep and oppressive.
"Hehe, you don't need to remind me about Orochimaru. I've already lost many Clones because of him!"
The previously light-hearted voice sounded once again, somewhat helplessly.
This time, the low voice remained silent.
"Pain will likely make his next move soon. Recently, the Six-Tails Jinchuriki reappeared. I've already gathered all the intelligence and just need to find an opportunity to hand it over to him."
"Hmm, it's about time we took action again! The Hidden Villages have already started preparing against us. They've been wiping out our peripheral members recently."
"Clack, clack, clack!"
Footsteps echoed as a shaft of light shone down, illuminating the speaker.
Zetsu was "talking to himself."
"Once Saitama returns this time, I'll hand the collected intelligence to Pain. It's time to continue pushing forward with the plan!"
A faint light shone onto Zetsu's face. Black moved his lips slightly and muttered these words.
"Understood!"
White grinned, revealing pale skin that looked both sickly and grotesque.
"I hope they won't disappoint me."
Black said finally before closing his eyes again, ignoring White.
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