Konoha, Year 47.
The Third Great Ninja War had finally come to an end.
At the top of the Hokage Tower stood the Third Hokage, flanked by his trusted advisors—Homura, Koharu, and Danzō. A broad smile stretched across his face as he looked down at the sea of villagers and shinobi gathered below.
"People of Konoha," Hiruzen Sarutobi began, his voice carrying across the crowd, "the past five years have been difficult for us all. No sooner had the Second Great Ninja War ended than we were thrown into yet another—into this Third Great Ninja War. Many of our comrades have perished. We have lost friends, families… even those we loved most dearly."
His words, heavy with grief, fell over the crowd like a shroud. The villagers grew quiet, their faces drawn with sorrow.
"But at last," Sarutobi continued, his voice now rising with conviction, "this bloody struggle is over. We have endured, we have prevailed—and now I, as your Hokage, declare this: the Third Great Ninja War has ended. From this day forth, we shall know peace once more."
As his speech came to a close, the silence broke. A wave of cheers erupted from the crowd, many with tears streaming down their faces—tears of joy, relief, and release.
Yet amidst the jubilation, one man stood apart. In the throng was a young shinobi wearing a chunin's vest. He had long black hair and piercing, cat-like yellow eyes. Unlike those around him, he did not rejoice. His expression was hard and unyielding, his body still as stone.
His gaze lifted to the Hokage, to the man smiling so triumphantly above. But in his eyes burned no joy—only rage. His jaw tightened, his fists clenched, and his teeth ground together. At last, unable to remain, he turned away from the celebration and began to walk.
From the crowd, another figure watched him leave—Asuma Sarutobi, a cigarette hanging from his lips. His eyes softened with sadness as he regarded the young man's retreating back. Then, wordlessly, he began to follow.
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Training Ground 6
The sky glowed orange as the sun sank low, birds cutting across the horizon on their way back to their nests. In the quiet of Training Ground Six, a lone man struck furiously at a tree. His fists crashed against the bark again and again, each blow fueled by unrestrained rage.
"Arghhh!"
His roar echoed through the field as he pounded harder. His knuckles split, blood streaking the trunk, but he didn't care. The pain only fed his fury.
Then, suddenly, a strong hand caught his fist mid-strike, halting the self-destruction.
"You know, hurting yourself won't change anything, Tenko," came a calm voice.
It was Asuma, his grip firm but not unkind.
The man—now revealed as Tenko—wrenched his arm free and turned his face away, scowling.
"Tsk. Why are you here, Asuma? Shouldn't you be celebrating with the others?"
Asuma sighed, taking a slow drag from his cigarette before exhaling a thin stream of smoke.
"What's there to celebrate? You and I both know the truth. The war may be over, but the cost is too great to ignore. We've lost too many friends… too many we cared about."
His voice carried a weary sadness.
Tenko's shoulders slumped. Exhausted, he sank down onto the grass. After a pause, Asuma lowered himself beside him.
"This war… no, all of these wars we've fought—they're nothing but cruel jokes," Tenko muttered, his voice trembling with bitterness. "The First, the Second, and now this Third War. For what? For what purpose?! War has taken everything from me—my parents, my friends, my loved ones. All of them, gone! Tell me, Asuma—how much more blood must be spilled before peace finally comes?!"
His voice rose, breaking into a shout. His eyes blazed with desperation as he demanded, "Will there ever be a time when children won't be forced to fight? When this world will truly know peace?! Answer me, Asuma!"
A heavy silence hung between them. Finally, Asuma spoke, his tone low and reflective.
"I don't know. Peace… peace feels like a dream, one we can never reach. But still—we have to hope. Hope that those who come after us might achieve what we never could. That's all we can do."
The two sat quietly, the weight of their words pressing down like the dusk itself.
At last, Tenko broke the silence. "Tell me, Asuma… why do villages go to war?"
The question caught Asuma off guard. He took a moment before replying.
"There isn't one clear answer. There are many—and none of them truly satisfying. But if you ask me personally… it's emotions. Greed. Envy. Rage. Lust. Fear. It's those things that drive people to war."
"Emotions…" Tenko whispered, his eyes narrowing as the thought turned over in his mind.
After a moment, Asuma rose to his feet, brushing grass from his pants.
"Where are you going?" Tenko asked.
"I'm leaving the village for a while. The Fire Daimyō is forming a Guardian Ninja Squad for his personal protection. I'll be joining them." He took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it away. "Take care of yourself, Tenko."
Tenko watched in silence as Asuma walked off, his figure shrinking in the fading light until he finally vanished from view.
"Emotions…" Tenko murmured to himself, his eyes cold. "What if I could conquer those emotions? Would war finally end?"
A dangerous thought took root within him, and it refused to leave.
Then, as if by miracle, a blue window materialized before him, its light slicing through the dusk and startling Tenko.
A voice—calm and mechanical—resonated from the window:
"Host, you have met the requirement to awaken to system."
"What is this?" Tenko breathed, his voice a trembling whisper of shock.
"I am the Strongest-Being System. I will help you become the most powerful."
Before he could make sense of the proclamation, a searing pain shot through his skull. Memories not his own—shapes, names, faces, lives—rushed into him like a flood. He dropped to his knees, clutching his head.
"Arghhh!" he howled as the torrent battered his mind.
"Memory awakening complete," the voice announced, as authority without pity.
After a few ragged moments, Tenko's breathing steadied. Sweat dripped from his brow; his chest heaved as exhaustion pulled him to the grassy ground. He lay there, spent and buzzing, yet already changed. Recognition bloomed inside him—an impossible awareness of who he had been and what this world truly was. The revelation was both terrifying and intoxicating.
He forced himself upright, eyes bright with a dangerous mix of shock and exhilaration. "With this knowledge…and this system," he murmured, voice low and resolute, "I will achieve my goal."
To be continued...
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