A month had passed since Konoha's internal council meeting.
The shadow of war once again loomed over the shinobi world.
Ever since the end of the Second Great Shinobi War, the ominous clouds of conflict had never truly lifted.
Just as Aizen Sōsuke had foreseen, this world possessed a unique, almost pathological fixation with war and bloodshed.
Every nation, every leader, seemed bound to the cycle.
And now, nearly everyone agreed:
The Third Great Shinobi War was on the verge of erupting.
That war was inevitable — yet its suddenness still caught everyone off guard.
Both Konoha and Sunagakure, two of the great powers, had suffered consecutive incidents.
Even more suspiciously, the victims on both sides were directly connected.
- Konoha's White Fang.
- The Third Kazekage and the genius puppeteer, Sasori.
Coincidence? Hardly.
White Fang had only just committed suicide, and now the Kazekage and his most gifted subordinates were suddenly dead.
While the timing of the reports varied from nation to nation, the proximity of these two events — Konoha's White Fang's death and the Kazekage's disappearance — left no doubt that they occurred almost simultaneously.
Though Konoha denied any connection between Sakumo Hatake's death and the Sand Village, other nations weren't so easily convinced.
Across the intelligence networks of the Five Great Nations, a single story began to take shape:
In recent border skirmishes, Sunagakure's growing prominence — fueled by the genius of its new Kazekage and his prodigy Sasori — had become a threat.
So Konoha orchestrated a secret operation, sending their most ruthless operative, the White Fang, deep into the desert to assassinate them all.
One White Fang — in exchange for the strongest Kazekage in history, his elite guard, and the Sand's brightest rising star.
A worthy trade.
Konoha might have lost one powerful shinobi, but Sunagakure had effectively lost its entire upper echelon.
As for the official claim that "political pressure drove Sakumo to suicide"?
No one outside Konoha believed it.
Who would willingly destroy their own best front-line commander over a mission dispute?
No one took such propaganda seriously.
In fact, whispers spread that Sakumo's death had merely been a cover for a failed black-ops mission.
The rumor circulated for a single day before being silenced — but that was enough to make everyone believe it must be true.
Hidden rumors often carry more weight than public truths.
The rest of the world could only marvel at Konoha's audacity.
The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, already known as the "Professor of Ninjutsu" for mastering all five chakra natures, now earned a new title whispered among foreign nations — "The Hero of the Shinobi."
On one hand, the other nations admired his ruthless brilliance.
On the other, they scrambled to strengthen their defenses, terrified that Konoha's forces might march upon them next.
The fragile balance that had barely held since the last war shattered completely.
Of course, within Konoha, they knew the truth — or at least, their version of it.
No one could say for sure what had happened to the Third Kazekage, but they insisted it had nothing to do with them.
Yet as the saying goes: when mud splashes on your pants, it doesn't matter if it's not dirt — it looks like it anyway.
Konoha's denials only made things worse, especially after the secret one-day "confusion campaign" ordered by Hiruzen and Danzo to muddy the waters.
Once that operation leaked, it was impossible to explain away.
Thus, Konoha had no choice but to begin war mobilization.
Backing down would only make them appear weak — and in this world, showing weakness meant inviting attack.
They had suffered such humiliation once during the Second War.
They would not repeat that mistake.
And so, under an uneasy, electric silence, the entire shinobi world began to prepare for war.
Even the places untouched by battle — schools, markets, and quiet villages — were filled with an air of dread and discipline.
Under normal circumstances, this tension would have sparked chaos inside Konoha: bullying among students, rising crime, and social unrest.
But this time was different.
Thanks to the newly appointed Acting Advisor Aizen Sōsuke and the community programs he had implemented, the atmosphere in Konoha remained remarkably stable — or at least, less volatile than before.
Even so, anxiety could not be erased.
The silent waiting before the first shot — that was what suffocated people the most.
The entire village seemed to hold its breath.
Each person worked quietly, diligently, yet beneath that calm lurked a feverish energy — part fear, part zeal.
Many believed that Konoha, the "strongest village under the sky," could fight all four great nations at once and still prevail.
That arrogance was not limited to civilians; even some shinobi shared it.
Fortunately, the Hokage, his advisors, and the elders remained rational — maintaining public order and keeping nationalist fervor under control.
But Aizen, as the acting advisor, found himself busier than ever.
And since much of his research focused on strategic-level ninjutsu, the burden of testing and refinement naturally fell to his "adopted son," Hatake Kakashi.
After all, the Still Blood Armor (Seijūzō) was now considered a key defensive technique of Konoha's war doctrine.
And today… was the final day of testing for Kakashi's improved version.
---
The training grounds were filled with jōnin and chūnin observers.
In the center stood Kakashi, who had officially passed his chūnin trials just a week ago — at only six years old.
Calm and composed, he waited as the last instruments were set up.
As chakra circulated through his body, faint blue streams began flowing through his veins, tracing geometric lines across his skin where specialized medical-nin had grafted sensory seals.
Unlike Aizen's prototype, which only coated the surface, Kakashi's enhanced Still Blood Armor radiated from within — a glowing blue lattice that spread through his uniform, over his vest, leg guards, and even his forehead protector.
"…I'm ready."
He nodded to the monitoring shinobi.
Moments later, the loudspeakers echoed across the field:
"Thirteenth Still Blood Armor test — begin!"
"Phase One: Elemental Attack Simulation!"
Chūnin stationed around the field moved instantly, forming hand seals in perfect unison.
"Fire Style: Great Fireball Jutsu!"
"Water Style: Raging Waves!"
"Lightning Style: Earth Flow!"
"Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!"
A barrage of ninjutsu collided, flooding the field in fire, steam, and smoke.
Visibility dropped to zero.
Then, from within the haze, the loudspeaker blared again:
"Phase Two: Projectile Test!"
A sharp metallic clang echoed.
Kunai and shuriken rained down from every direction, glinting briefly before bouncing harmlessly off the boy's body.
The weapons clattered to the ground, piling at his feet.
Through it all, Kakashi didn't flinch — didn't move. His single visible eye remained calm, watching his attackers impassively.
"Phase Three: Taijutsu Test!"
From the shadows, several jōnin-level taijutsu specialists burst forward, executing flowing combinations of Leaf Ninja Art: Yanagi strikes and kicks against the child.
To the onlookers, it looked brutal — grown men assaulting a six-year-old.
But no matter what they did, no matter how they struck, Kakashi remained unshaken — standing perfectly still, watching quietly.
Minutes later, the attackers' chakra reserves were nearly depleted.
Then came the final announcement:
"Test complete. Still Blood Armor confirmed effective against all standard chūnin-level offensive methods."
"Alright, clear the field."
"Research team, organize your data."
"Prepare the next report draft for equipment approval."
Perhaps it was the looming war, but there was little celebration.
Everyone simply collected their data with grim focus.
Only one middle-aged researcher approached Kakashi with a faint, weary smile.
"Well then, it seems the improved model is complete. Congratulations, Kakashi. Is there anything you'd like as a reward?"
"…No."
"No need to be so distant. Times are harsh, but even so — Aizen asked us to look after you. Let us at least treat you to something."
"Really, there's no need. If that's all, I'll be going."
"Hah… such an unsociable child. Fine then. Give my regards to Advisor Aizen."
"…Yeah."
Or rather, Acting Advisor.
As he walked away, Kakashi dismissed the man's words and leapt onto the rooftops, heading toward Aizen's residence.
---
Kakashi Hatake was a prodigy.
Even at six years old, he had already completed missions in secret, bypassed the Academy's curriculum, and understood more about the world than most adults.
He wasn't naive.
And when Aizen Sōsuke extended his hand — offering to make him his "son" — Kakashi accepted.
It wasn't sentimentality. It was survival.
He had shed the burdensome title of "White Fang's Son" and, though whispers of disdain still lingered, none dared voice them aloud now.
In a village ruled by perception, that alone was worth it.
He didn't love Aizen, not really — but he respected him. A little.
—
"A visitor?"
When Kakashi landed in Aizen's courtyard, he noticed the study lights still burning. Curious, he approached quietly.
Visitors weren't rare, and as Aizen's adopted son, it was polite to at least greet them.
But when he peeked inside, his expression changed.
The person sitting across from Aizen wasn't wearing Konoha's standard green vest.
They, too, wore a white haori.
"…Since when does Konoha have another shinobi who dresses like him?"
Kakashi frowned slightly, staring at the figure within the study — a disheveled-haired man draped in white, seated with quiet authority.
For the first time, he felt something unfamiliar stir in his chest — a vague, unexplainable unease.