Year 37 of Konoha.
The smoke of war had finally erupted.
Both Iwagakure and Sunagakure launched surprise offensives at the same time—war was now official.
Fortunately, Konoha had powerhouses like Hatake Sakumo and Jiraiya holding the two fronts. Their presence alone kept the enemy villages from tearing straight through.
Two fronts. Two battlefields. And a whole village caught in the middle of the storm.
Back in Konoha, war reports trickled in daily. The atmosphere grew heavier with each one. Food prices spiked, ninja tools became scarce, even the market stalls buzzed with anxiety.
The frontlines were holding… but the war was already bleeding the village dry.
The Hokage's Office
Inside the office, Sarutobi Hiruzen sat in his chair, blowing smoke rings into the dim air. Across from him, his old teammates filled the room with silence—Danzo with his eyes closed as if in meditation, Koharu and Homura frowning over the latest battle reports.
This was the circle that decided the fate of Konoha.
"Iwa and Suna must have formed an alliance," one of them muttered. "No other way they'd attack at the same time."
"At least Kumo and Kiri haven't moved yet. That's the only good news," another added.
"But what about the Land of Rain? We can't possibly stretch our forces to a third battlefield."
All eyes turned to Hiruzen.
The Iwa front was the bigger nightmare—roads through Taki and Kusagakure meant they had to guard against those villages jumping in. Outsiders always circled like vultures.
The Suna front was slightly easier. The Land of Rivers lacked the population to act boldly; they only had to worry about Suna itself. But Suna was hardly "easy" to deal with.
Seventy percent of Konoha's fighting force was already deployed across the two fronts. The rest were split between defending the village and reserves.
That left almost nothing for the Land of Rain—a critical region sitting right between three great powers. Pull back troops, and Iwa or Suna would march straight through.
Even Hiruzen, the "Professor," had no good answer.
"…Danzo. Your thoughts?"
Danzo finally opened his eyes.
"Pull one of the Uchiha from Konoha. Send him to the Suna front. Best solution."
Hiruzen hesitated. He knew exactly what Danzo meant.
The Uchiha clan was being kept "in reserve" to watch Kiri, but the real reason was obvious: throwing Uchiha elites into a free-for-all battlefield was too risky. They'd rack up glory, prestige… and popularity.
Too much popularity. Enough that even the Hokage might not be able to suppress them.
"One Uchiha Jinzō is already more than enough," Hiruzen muttered darkly.
At that, Koharu glanced at the battle reports. "This Uchiha Jinzō—he's topping the charts, isn't he?"
Hiruzen massaged his temple. "On the frontlines, he submitted one A-rank ninjutsu and six B-rank taijutsu forms."
The room fell silent.
"…He had time to research ninjutsu at the front?" Koharu finally asked.
"He created them before," Hiruzen said irritably. "Just submitted them now."
It burned him to admit it, but Jinzō's work was effective. Too effective. Every new technique raised Konoha's strength, and yet… Hiruzen could feel control slipping.
Danzo cut through the tension with a cold snort. "Forget the boy. What about the Land of Rain?"
Hiruzen shifted the discussion. "Orochimaru will lead the team."
Danzo's eyes narrowed. "Orochimaru is untested. Too green. I should lead."
"You're needed against Kumo," Hiruzen replied.
That struck a nerve. Kumo had been bloodied in their last clash, but it still required constant pressure. Which meant Danzo's little ambition—recruiting promising young shinobi on the frontlines—was being denied.
"Hiruzen… you'll regret handing a battlefield to that boy," Danzo said, his voice low.
"I am the Hokage," Hiruzen snapped. "My decision is final."
And so it was decided. The Land of Rain would be Orochimaru's proving ground.
Elsewhere in Konoha…
News of the Rain battlefield spread fast, even reaching the ears of a man unloading crates for a merchant.
Might Duy paused mid-lift. "The… frontline?" he murmured.
By evening, he collected his wages—two thousand ryō. Just enough to cover diapers, milk, clothes, and maybe a month of tuition for the future. He tucked the notes carefully into his shirt, his hands rough and grimy from work.
When he reached home, a gentle voice floated out:
"Little Gai, grow up strong and help your father someday."
Duy opened the door with a smile. "I'm home."
His wife looked up from rocking their newborn, Metkai. "Food's on the table."
"Sorry," Duy said sheepishly as he sat down. "Only two thousand today."
"It's enough," she reassured him.
And it was. Their life was humble but happy. A loving wife. A healthy baby boy. Even a steady genin's pay could keep them afloat if they lived carefully.
For a moment, he let himself believe it could last.
But then his chopsticks stilled.
Was it really okay—just living like this? When the village bled, when the future of his family's safety was being fought at the front?
Duy suddenly shoveled food into his mouth, tears stinging his eyes. "Delicious! So delicious!" he laughed, too loud, too fast.
His wife put the baby down, studying him. "Tell me the truth. What's wrong?"
They sat across from one another.
Duy put down his bowl, rice clinging to his beard. He inhaled deeply, then spoke with all the force of his heart:
"I want to protect the village. I want to give you a better life. I've decided—"
"I'm going to the front!"