Pakura was covered in injuries, but she remained standing.
Half of Sasori's puppets were shattered, and he himself was wounded.
Kankuro sat on the ground, gasping for breath.
Gaara's sand was scattered everywhere; he was pale but remained conscious.
"Casualties..." Nobunaga asked.
Temari bit her lip.
"We don't know yet, but... many."
Nobunaga did not speak.
He lowered his head and looked at his hands.
Those hands were stained with blood—some was his own, some was Minato's.
He thought back to what Orochimaru had just said.
"The Uchiha orphan of Konoha."
Now everyone knew.
He looked up at Temari.
Temari was also looking at him. Her eyes held complex emotions:
Shock, heartache, and something else.
"Teacher," she said softly, "why didn't you say so sooner?"
Nobunaga was silent for a moment before finally saying, "It's not important. Who I am doesn't matter; where I stand is what matters."
Temari looked at him.
For a long time.
Then she nodded.
That night, many lights were lit in the Hidden Sand Village.
Nobunaga sat in the Kazekage's office.
His left eye was wrapped in bandages, and it was empty beneath them—that eye was gone.
His right eye was also failing; due to the over-usage of the Mangekyo Sharingan, blurry dark spots had begun to appear in his field of vision.
He had known for a long time that an elementary Sage Body could only guarantee moderate use of the Mangekyo; he just hadn't cared, or rather, there was no chance to care on the battlefield.
The door was pushed open.
Pakura walked in. She sat down opposite Nobunaga, her movements light as if afraid of disturbing something.
"The casualty report is out. Over six hundred dead, over four hundred wounded."
Nobunaga nodded; these figures were within his expectations.
War was always like this, calculating lives with numbers and burying the dead with spreadsheets.
Pakura added, "On Konoha's side, we counted the bodies; about five hundred died. Minato Namikaze lost an arm, and Orochimaru is fine."
Nobunaga nodded again.
Pakura looked at him. Moonlight shone through the window, casting half of his face in light and the other half in shadow.
His eyes—or rather, the remaining one—stared at the map on the desk, unmoving for a long time.
"You are of the Uchiha,"
Nobunaga said nothing.
Pakura asked again, "Aren't you afraid we'll treat you as an enemy?"
Nobunaga raised his right eye to look at her. His gaze was still, as still as a sunless well deep in the desert.
"Do you think I am an enemy?"
Pakura was silent for a moment.
"No, you stand before us."
Nobunaga nodded.
Pakura stood up and walked out. At the door, she stopped.
"Nobunaga."
"Hmm."
"That eye... can it still be used?"
Nobunaga did not answer.
The door closed.
Nobunaga sat there, looking at the map on the desk.
The map was marked with border lines, troop deployments, and the names of those who had died.
Some he had written himself, others were written by others; every word was like a grain of sand, light as air yet heavy as lead.
He seemed to see Rasa.
Rasa was kneeling on the sand, saying, "I entrust my children to you."
Before he could finish his words, the man was gone.
The sunset that day was very red, red like blood.
He saw Gaara. That child stood to his right today, using sand to protect many people.
He was still alive. He stood alive to Nobunaga's right, looking at the enemy with those eyes that long ago held nothing.
He saw Kankuro. That child followed behind Sasori today, firing poison needles from Crow.
His technique had improved again since last year, and the number of times Sasori scolded him grew fewer and fewer. He was still alive.
He saw Temari. That girl had stood to his left all day today, supporting him when he fell.
Her arms were strong, and the scar on the web of her thumb had faded until it was almost invisible.
They were all still alive.
That was enough.
Nobunaga stood up and walked to the window.
Outside, moonlight shone on the sand.
The desert is cool at night, and the moonlight outlined the silhouette of every dune clearly, like an ink wash painting in shades of silver and gray.
He suddenly remembered many years ago, when he first came to the Hidden Sand Village.
He was young then, his eyes were still intact, and the Third Kazekage had brought him to the Village entrance.
The Third's hair was already graying, but his back was straight.
"What is your name?" the Third asked.
He said, "Nobunaga, Uchiha Nobunaga."
The Third looked at him for a long time. Then he said, "Whether Uchiha or Senju, here, you are a person of the Sand."
Nobunaga raised his hand and touched the bandage over his left eye.
That eye was gone, but it didn't matter.
He still had his right eye.
He still had the strength to stand at the front.
Outside the window, wind and sand blew past.
He stood there for a long time.
...
The next day, news of Konoha's retreat arrived.
Orochimaru and Minato Namikaze led their troops back to the border. Sunagakure was safe for now.
Nobunaga stood at the Village entrance, watching those who returned alive.
There was exhaustion and sadness on their faces, but also light—the kind of light only seen in the eyes of survivors; it was faint, but it certainly existed.
Temari walked up to his side.
"Teacher, what do we do next?"
Nobunaga looked into the distance.
"Continue training. They will come again."
Temari nodded. She turned around, watching the villagers who were cleaning up the battlefield.
Kankuro squatted on the ground, helping Sasori pick up the fragments of the puppets.
Those fragments shimmered with a metallic luster in the sunlight; he picked them up one by one and put them into a cloth bag.
Gaara stood to the side, his sand gathering the fragments and gently piling them at Kankuro's feet. The sand flowed slowly and steadily, like an invisible hand.
Pakura was directing the medical team, carrying the wounded into the Village. Her voice was steady, every command clear and powerful.
Temari remembered yesterday's battle. Nobunaga's Sharingan, Nobunaga's Susanoo.
It was just like the legends that once leaked out about Konoha's Uchiha Madara—a purple giant with massive wings, like a deity stepping out of mythology.
She turned her head to look at Nobunaga.
"Teacher."
"Hmm."
"Will you always be here?"
Nobunaga was silent for a moment.
Then he reached out and rested his hand on top of her head.
"I will, because I am the Kazekage of the Hidden Sand Village."
Temari smiled.
This was the first time she had smiled since the war began.
...
One year later.
When the news of the Kumogakure front being in critical danger arrived, it was an ordinary morning.
Nobunaga was in the Kazekage's office looking at a map.
A year had passed, and because that eye was gone, his left eye had remained wrapped in bandages.
He told no one, although some might have guessed from the bandages that were never removed for a long time.
The door was pushed open.
An Anbu member stood at the door, breathing somewhat heavily.
"Lord Kazekage, urgent report from the Kumogakure front. Elder Chiyo is heavily injured and has been sent back to the Village."
Nobunaga stood up.
Medical Department.
When Nobunaga walked into the hospital room, Chiyo was lying on the bed.
Her right arm was wrapped in bandages, and blood had seeped through them, drying into a dark red.
Her face was pale, pale as paper, but her eyes were still open, staring at the ceiling.
Ebizo sat by the bed, his back hunched, saying nothing.
Nobunaga walked over.
"How are the injuries?"