The atmosphere in the council chamber was suffocating. Smoke from the elders' pipes hung thick in the air, curling upward like ghostly fingers that clung to the wooden beams. No one spoke. The silence itself seemed to weigh down on everyone present, pressing against their lungs until each breath came heavy and shallow.
Root operatives stationed outside believed their leader, Danzo Shimura, lived only for rage and ambition, but the truth was far more complex. Danzo saw more than anger—he saw threats, shifting tides, and the sacrifices necessary for survival. Unlike him, however, the Hokage was bound by an endless web of politics, honor, and the fragile notion called the "Will of Fire."
And now, Kumogakure's brazen demand had forced Konoha into a corner.
Two paths lay before them, and both were stained with blood.
The first was to rally their strength and meet the Hidden Cloud head-on in open war. Though the Third Great Ninja War had ended not long ago, Konoha's forces, though diminished, still had their foundation. With the Hyuga, Uchiha, and other clans, victory was not impossible. But such a war would bleed the village white. Countless shinobi would die, families would be shattered, and Konoha's enemies would circle like vultures.
The second path was far colder: appease Kumogakure by sacrificing Hyuga Hiashi, the head of his clan, handing him over like a lamb to slaughter. Such a move would avert immediate war, but at the cost of Konoha's honor and the Hyuga's dignity.
Neither choice was acceptable, yet one had to be made.
Danzo's single visible eye narrowed as he studied the others. The other clans—Akimichi, Nara, Yamanaka, Inuzuka, Aburame—remained silent, their gazes heavy but cautious. Human nature was selfish. Each clan would protect its own blood before another's. Who among them would willingly send their sons and daughters to die for the Hyuga?
At last, the silence cracked.
"The village cannot withstand another war," Hiruzen Sarutobi said slowly, his voice heavy with age. "We are still recovering. To plunge into battle now would be reckless."
His words fell like stones into still water, sending ripples of unease through the hall.
Danzo snorted audibly, contempt plain on his face. The elders, Homura and Koharu, sighed but said nothing, their shoulders slumping with resignation. Nara Shikaku, the ever-stoic strategist, remained unreadable, though his sharp eyes flickered briefly toward Hiashi.
Hiruzen's decision was no surprise. He had spent his entire life chasing stability, even at the cost of appearing weak. To Shikaku, this was exactly the choice he had expected: compromise disguised as diplomacy.
Hiashi's face paled, his features stiff with rage barely held in check. In Hiruzen's carefully measured tone, he heard betrayal.
"Of course," Hiruzen continued, raising his hand as though in reassurance, "the Hyuga are our comrades. The village would never abandon its comrades. This matter… will be set aside for now. We will pursue negotiations with Kumogakure and argue rationally."
A heavy silence followed.
The meaning was clear. Hiruzen had chosen to yield, to gamble on reasoning with a village that respected only power. Everyone here knew Kumogakure would never be swayed by words. His statement was nothing more than a way to delay, to push the burden forward, to avoid responsibility.
Hiashi slammed his hand down on the table, the sharp crack echoing through the chamber.
"The Will of Fire… complete nonsense!" he spat, his voice trembling with fury. Without waiting for reprimand, he stood and strode from the chamber, his back rigid, his cold expression never once turning back.
No one stopped him. Not Homura, not Koharu, not even Danzo.
Danzo's lips pressed into a thin line. He had known—he had predicted—that Hiruzen would sacrifice Hiashi if it came to it. Yet hearing those words from his old comrade's mouth still stung. It was as if a flame that once burned brightly within the Third Hokage had sputtered and died.
"Konoha was the strongest shinobi village once," Danzo thought bitterly, "and it still could be. But today, Hiruzen has shown his weakness. He would trade away a comrade to preserve peace."
The meeting dissolved. One by one, the clan heads filed out, their expressions dark and contemplative.
Danzo lingered. As he passed Hiruzen, he stopped, his voice a low growl. "Hiruzen, our teacher sacrificed himself to protect his comrades. He would never have chosen the path you did today."
Hiruzen puffed his pipe, his eyes closing slowly.
"Danzo," he said softly, "you let anger cloud your sight. Sensei gave his life for the village because he had the power to do so. I… do not. Without his strength, without his wisdom, I must walk a thinner path. I cannot risk the village for pride."
"You will regret this," Danzo replied coldly.
"I am Hokage," Hiruzen said, turning away. "The burden is mine to bear."
Danzo's footsteps faded. Soon, Hiruzen was alone. He turned toward the stone faces carved into the Hokage Rock, his gaze lingering on the stern features of the Second Hokage, his own teacher.
"People do not understand the weight of a decision until they are forced to bear it," he murmured. "Sensei, my life has been like walking on thin ice. Tell me—will I ever stand as tall as you?"
A faint buzz stirred the air. From the shadows, a white-haired figure emerged.
"Hokage-sama," a voice asked quietly, "why?"
Kakashi Hatake, clad in his ANBU gear, knelt. He had been stationed in the shadows at Hiruzen's command, listening silently to the entire meeting. Though he had long since grown used to ANBU's grim duties, what he had heard today shook him. The Hokage who spoke endlessly of the Will of Fire had chosen surrender.
"Kakashi," Hiruzen said gently, motioning for him to rise. "Come. Sit here."
The young ANBU hesitated, stiff as a board. The chair before him was reserved only for the Hokage. Yet Hiruzen guided him firmly into it.
"T-this… Hokage-sama…" Kakashi stammered, overwhelmed.
Hiruzen refilled his pipe with deliberate calm. "You must learn to think with the mind of a Hokage."
He blew out smoke, then asked quietly, "Tell me, Kakashi. If we go to war with Kumogakure, and when it is over, the villagers—mothers, fathers, children—come to you, demanding to know why their loved ones had to die… what will you tell them?"
Kakashi's chest tightened. Images of graves, of names etched on stone, of his own fallen comrades flashed before him. He could not answer.
Hiruzen pressed on. "If sacrificing one man could save thousands, would you refuse, as Hokage?"
The words struck like a kunai. Kakashi's fists clenched. "If it were me being sacrificed," he said hoarsely, "I would accept it without hesitation."
His voice was thick with emotion, his single eye blazing with sincerity.
Hiruzen nodded slowly. He knew Kakashi carried the strength to die for peace.
"But if it were my teacher," Kakashi added, voice shaking, "or my friends… I would never allow it."
At that, Hiruzen fell silent. The memory of Minato, Kushina, Obito, and Rin rose unbidden, shadows of the past that never ceased to haunt.
Kakashi lowered his gaze. "For others, perhaps I would agree. But for those dearest to me… never."
"Then you understand," Hiruzen said at last, though his voice was heavy. "This is already the better choice."
Kakashi said nothing. A hollow weariness spread through him, draining his spirit. After a long pause, he finally asked, "And what of the Will of Fire, Hokage-sama?"
Hiruzen's expression darkened. He turned his back, unwilling to answer. "Kakashi… you are tired. Take a month's rest. Recuperate."
Kakashi frowned. He knew evasion when he saw it. The contradiction between words and deeds was too stark. Just as his own father, Sakumo, had been abandoned by the village, so too was Hiashi being abandoned now.
How much of his father's death, Kakashi wondered, had been shaped by this very man before him?
Suppressing a shudder, he bowed his head. "Very well. In that time… I would like to watch over a boy. Naruto Uzumaki."
Hiruzen hesitated, then nodded. "Very well. But remember—Naruto is first and foremost the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki. Only then is he the son of Minato."
"…Understood."
Kakashi's voice was flat, but inside, conflict churned.
The smoke swirled in the chamber, heavy and bitter. Outside, the village seemed peaceful, but beneath the surface, storm clouds gathered.
The Will of Fire—was it truly a guiding flame, or nothing more than words to hide compromises?
Kakashi did not know.
And in his silence, neither did Hiruzen.