The council chamber in Hokage Tower had never quite fit Hiruzen. Not in size—the room was more than large enough with its vaulted ceiling and long lacquered table—but in weight. Every decision made here seemed to press in from the walls, thickening the air until each breath sat heavy in his chest.
He set his unlit pipe on the table, fingers lingering on the polished stem as he scanned the faces around him. No one looked pleased to be here. Emergency war councils had a way of souring even the most patient tempers.
"Let's begin," Hiruzen said, though his voice came out lower than he intended. He cleared his throat and tried again. "The situation at our border with River Country has deteriorated significantly in the past forty-eight hours."
Chairs creaked as the gathered clan heads and elders shifted. The tea laid out earlier sat mostly untouched, wisps of steam curling above forgotten cups.
"Three patrols hit in two days," Uchiha Tatsuo said, his dark eyes narrowed. "Five dead, three wounded. How much more 'deterioration' do we need before we respond appropriately?"
Hiruzen picked up his pipe again, running his thumb along its smooth surface. The ritual usually calmed him, but tonight it felt like a nervous tic he couldn't control.
"We need to establish facts before action," he replied. "What do we know for certain?"
Shikaku's father, Shikaro Nara, leaned forward. Despite the late hour, his eyes were sharp. "Border patrol reported finding five of our chunin dead near the western pass. Evidence points to River shinobi. Two survivors identified their attackers as wearing River Country uniforms and using their distinctive water jutsu."
"And the second patrol?" Hiruzen asked.
"Ambushed yesterday at dawn. Three wounded, one killed. Again, River Country identifiers were left behind."
"And the report from Tsunade?"
"Arrived by messenger hawk a few hours ago," the masked figure confirmed. "Her escort mission encountered a wounded chunin who reported an attack by River shinobi. She's continuing toward the settlement but has altered her route and increased security measures."
Hiruzen exhaled through his nose, slow and tired. The picture was coming together, and it wasn't looking any better in the light.
Koharu Utatane, one of the village elders, tapped her finger against the wooden table. "Three separate incidents, all pointing to the same aggressor. I believe that establishes your facts, Hiruzen."
"You're right that the facts align," Hiruzen said carefully. "But River Country has maintained neutrality for decades. They lack both the military strength and the strategic motivation to provoke us."
"Unless they're no longer acting alone," Danzo said, finally breaking his silence.
All eyes turned to him.
"Explain," Hiruzen said.
Danzo slid a folder across the table. "Intelligence reports suggest River Country might have been reaching out to Iwagakure and Sunagakure for military support—or at the very least, testing the waters. The recent attacks on our patrols weren't random. They were too coordinated. My sources believe those strikes are the proof—River Country wouldn't have dared act without backing, or at least the promise of it."
A murmur rippled through the room. Hiruzen opened the folder, scanning the documents inside. Reports from border agents and analyses from the intelligence division all pointed toward the same conclusion.
The evidence was compelling, but something felt off. Hiruzen had played this game too long not to recognize when pieces were being arranged on the board.
"If River has allied with Iwa and Suna," Uchiha Tatsuo said, "we're looking at the opening moves of something much larger than border skirmishes."
"Exactly my assessment," Danzo replied. "These attacks are probing strikes. They're watching to see how we respond. If we hesitate, we send a clear message—Konoha is vulnerable."
As Danzo spoke, Hiruzen caught the faint exchange of glances between him, Koharu, and Homura. Quick. Subtle. Most wouldn't have noticed. But Hiruzen did.
Then Hyuga Manabu broke his silence. "What about the civilians? We have three settlement missions currently between us and River Country. Tsunade's team is escorting one of them."
"That's precisely why immediate action is necessary," Danzo replied. "Those settlements are strategically vital. They secure our access to the valley watershed and establish defensible positions along the trade routes. If we don't hold that ground now, we'll be fighting for it later at a much higher cost."
Hiruzen raised a hand to halt the escalating discussion. "Let's step back for a moment. What exactly is River Country demanding? Have they made any formal declarations?"
"No official communications," Shikaro said, "which is itself telling. They're attacking without warning or stated grievances."
Hiruzen sighed softly as he set his pipe down.
"Forgive me, Lord Hokage," Danzo said, "but your reluctance to acknowledge the obvious is putting our village at risk. Whether River Country is acting on its own or playing puppet for Iwa and Suna doesn't matter anymore. The threat is already here."
The room fell silent as all eyes turned back to Hiruzen.
He took a breath, then redirected the discussion. "What about Kumo and Kiri? Any signs they're preparing to move?"
"No significant changes," the ANBU commander replied. "Their border patrols maintain standard rotations, and intelligence shows no unusual movement of forces."
Hiruzen nodded, buying himself time to think. The logical part of his mind knew Danzo might be right about the threat, even if his instincts screamed that something wasn't adding up.
"I won't rush into open war," he said at last. "Not until every diplomatic path has been explored."
Danzo's visible eye narrowed slightly—the only indication of his frustration. "And while we exhaust those paths, what of our patrols? Our settlements? Are they to serve as sacrificial pawns in your diplomatic game?"
The barb struck home, and Hiruzen felt a flash of anger. He mastered it quickly, but not before Danzo noticed. A tiny smile played at the corner of the older man's mouth.
"Danzo has a point," one of the elders of Senju blood said, his eyes flicking toward the center of the room. "And Tsunade's team is deep in the conflict zone. They're the furthest out—we can't afford to ignore that."
Hiruzen nodded slowly, weighing the situation. He gave it a moment's thought before speaking. "Send a messenger hawk with revised orders. Let Tsunade's team decide whether to complete the mission or pull back, depending on what they encounter. But if they continue, they're to proceed with extreme caution."
He looked to the ANBU commander. "I want a jonin squad sent to reinforce them. Prioritize someone with sensory capabilities who can provide advance warning of threats."
Danzo's brow creased, his voice tightening. "Pull back? These settlements are more than just civilian outposts, Hiruzen. They're Fire Country's strategic foothold in a contested region. The Daimyo himself approved their establishment as forward positions to secure our interests."
"The Daimyo approved civilian farming communities," Hiruzen countered, "not military installations."
Danzo gave a small, tight smile. "In times like these, that difference doesn't matter. These settlements secure vital terrain—high ground overlooking some trade routes and the primary valley watershed. If our enemies controls those positions, they'll strangle our western commerce. If Iwa or Suna gains access through River, they'll have a direct path into our heartland."
A few clan heads exchanged looks. The Uchiha nodded without hesitation. The Nara, slower and more reserved, followed with a reluctant nod.
"The settlements must be protected at all costs," Danzo continued, voice hardening. "Not just the people—though I'm sure we all value their lives—but the positions themselves. Once established, they give us legitimate claim to the territory in any future negotiations."
Shikaro Nara leaned forward, fingers steepled in thinking pose. "We should consider the broader implications. Taking aggressive action against River Country, even if justified, could trigger reactions from the other Great Villages. Particularly if River has indeed reached out to Iwa and Suna."
"Imagine the scenario," he continued, tracing invisible patterns on the table. "We establish this buffer zone, reinforce settlements with military personnel, pursue their forces across borders. That's not defense—that's expansion through military means. It's exactly the kind of action that could unite the other villages against us."
Danzo's gaze narrowed, his single eye locking onto the Nara clan head with an intensity that made even the stoic strategist pause.
Shikaro wasn't wrong. A direct invasion would send the wrong signal. Push too hard now, and Konoha would be the one looking like the aggressor. That was the last thing Hiruzen would tolerate. He'd shut it down before it even started.
No—this had to be slower, more gradual.
A full assault wasn't necessary. Not yet. What they needed was presence. Visibility. Just enough military movement to justify increased patrols, expanded protection of settlements, carefully placed reinforcements. A response disguised as caution.
Let the Hokage think they were shoring up defenses. Let the elders and clan heads believe the village was simply protecting its own.
By the time anyone realized how far the line had shifted, it would already be too late to push it back. The groundwork would have been laid.
Danzo finally raised his head, gaze locking with Shikaro's.
"Your concerns are valid, but incomplete." He unfurled a fresh map of River Country, spreading it across the table. Several locations were marked in red ink.
"These three dams manage their flood systems. These two points house their largest grain reserves. And their communication network relies on just seven relay stations, each critical to their chain of command."
His finger moved from one point to the next, outlining a web of opportunity. "Properly executed operations could severely limit their infrastructure without direct conflict. And with the right evidence left behind, these actions would appear to come from Iwa or Suna."
"You're proposing sabotage disguised as betrayal."
"I'm proposing we exploit the natural suspicions between desperate allies," Danzo corrected. "River Country is reaching out to Iwa and Suna from a position of weakness. That relationship is built on sand. If they believe their supposed protectors are secretly undermining them..."
"They'd be isolated. Vulnerable," an elder finished the thought.
Danzo nodded. "By the time the other villages realize what's happening, we'll have secured the valley watershed."
"And the civilian cost?"
"Far less than open warfare," Danzo replied without hesitation. "And entirely attributable to Iwa's aggression, as far as history will be concerned."
The room fell silent as the implications of Danzo's strategy sank in. Several clan heads exchanged glances, weighing their options. Uchiha Tatsuo, who had been growing visibly more agitated throughout the discussion, finally slammed his palm on the table.
"Enough of these shadow games and debates. Our people are dying while we sit here talking. Whether by direct force or Danzo's methods, River Country needs to understand the consequence of challenging Konoha."
"The Uchiha clan stands ready," he continued, looking around the table. "Who among you will join us in defending Konoha's honor and interests?"
"This isn't about clan honor," Hiruzen began, but Koharu cut him off.
"With respect, Hiruzen, this is precisely about honor. Our reputation affects our mission contracts, our alliances, our very survival. If we appear weak now, we invite aggression from all sides."
Homura nodded in agreement. "Defensive measures alone send the wrong message. We need to demonstrate consequences for attacking Konoha shinobi."
"The Hyuga clan agrees," Manabu said quietly. "Strength must be answered with strength."
One by one, the other clan heads followed suit, voicing their support for a firm response. Even Shikaro Nara, normally the first to advocate caution, gave in. With the majority pushing for action, his and Hiruzen's objections were drowned out.
Hiruzen glanced around the table. One by one, the faces staring back at him had hardened. There was no more room for debate. The weight of that unspoken consensus settled over his shoulders like stone.
"Hiruzen," Danzo said, sensing the moment, "sometimes peace is best preserved through decisive action. Your hesitation, while admirable in principle, may cost us more lives in the long run."
The pipe in Hiruzen's hand remained untouched, long gone cold. He'd fought this battle too many times before—arguing for patience in rooms already swept up by momentum and fear.
He closed the intelligence folder slowly. "Very well."
The shift in his tone silenced the room.
"I authorize the following actions," he continued. "First, establishment of a five-kilometer buffer zone along the western border. Second, military reinforcement of all settlements, including conversion to defensive outposts if necessary. Third, authorization for patrol commanders to pursue hostile forces across the border at their discretion."
He paused, looking directly at Danzo before adding, "And fourth, limited covert operations targeting River Country's critical infrastructure. With the explicit requirement that any such action must be untraceable to Konoha and appear to originate from Iwa or Suna forces."
The chair creaked softly beneath him as he leaned back, the weight of his decision settling deeper into his bones. Across the table, Danzo said nothing. But in the flicker of his eye, Hiruzen saw what he'd been waiting for.
Satisfaction.
"I want daily reports," Hiruzen said, the weariness in his voice slipping through. A final attempt to keep hold of the reins he'd just loosened. "And any major escalation comes back to this council for approval."
"Naturally," Danzo said smoothly. "We'll proceed with appropriate caution."
The meeting concluded shortly after. With clear orders in hand, the clan heads and military leaders left in quiet clusters, the tension that had hung over the room thinning just enough to breathe. Only the elders remained behind, trading hushed words with Danzo before they, too, departed.
When the last door closed, Hiruzen let himself sink back into his chair. The silence felt heavier than the arguments had.
From his office window, he could see the lights of the village spread out before him. Thousands of people sleeping peacefully, unaware of how fragile that peace had become. How many would he send to their deaths because he hadn't found the courage to stand firm against the tide of war?
The smoke from his pipe drifted upward, dissipating against the ceiling like the certainties he'd once held about maintaining peace through diplomatic means.
And somewhere out there, his former student Tsunade was escorting civilians toward what might soon become a battlefield, with no idea that she had just become a pawn in a much larger game.
"Be safe," he whispered to the night, hoping somehow his words would reach her. "And be ready."
…
Nothing brings out people's true colors like a crisis. Our little caravan had split faster than cheap chopsticks, forming two distinct camps—both literally and figuratively.
The turn-back faction huddled around the western fire pit, their faces grim in the flickering light. Every few minutes, someone would gesture south, back toward their village, voices rising before dropping to urgent whispers. The press-on group claimed the eastern side, smaller but more determined, exchanging reassuring nods whenever a clap of thunder rolled through.
Meanwhile, our wounded chunin friend was tucked under the sturdiest tarp, drifting in and out of consciousness. Tsunade knelt beside him, her face a perfect mask of professional detachment as her hands glowed green above his chest. But I caught the tiny furrow between her eyebrows, the slight downturn at the corners of her mouth.
"How's our guest?" I asked, crouching next to her.
"Stable." Her voice was clipped. "But he needs rest. Three cracked ribs. Punctured lung. Severe chakra exhaustion."
I winced. "Nothing lethal though, right?"
Her eyes flicked to mine. "Not if I have anything to say about it."
Not the most comforting answer. I bit back the urge to joke. No sense tempting fate when she was the one holding his life together with her bare hands.
The rain kept up its relentless pounding, drumming against our tarps and turning the ground into a soup of mud and wet grass. Morale was sinking faster than a stone in quicksand.
"Any chance of getting some real food tonight?" Mikoto showed up at my side, wringing water from her dripping hair. Strands clung to her cheeks, and she didn't bother brushing them away.
"The travel rations are—" she started.
"Somehow both tasteless and disgusting at the same time?" I cut in.
She let out a quiet laugh. "Exactly." Her eyes drifted toward the camp. "It might help... with everything."
I followed her gaze. The villagers had gone from anxious to miserable, huddled under makeshift shelters with faces that made funeral directors look cheery by comparison.
"You know what?" I stood up, brushing mud from my pants. "You're right. A proper meal fixes most problems. Even if it's only for a little while."
Mikoto raised an eyebrow. "We're in the middle of nowhere, in a downpour, with limited supplies. What exactly are you planning to cook?"
I grinned. "First, we need ingredients. And for that—" I turned toward our third teammate, who was huddled with her ninken under a small tarp. "Hey, Tsume! Feel like hunting?"
Her head jerked up, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Hunting? In this weather?"
"Unless you prefer another night of dried whatever-that-is rations."
Kuromaru's ears perked up at the word "hunting," and he gave a small, excited yip.
"See? Democracy in action. You've been outvoted by your own dog."
Tsume scowled, but I could see her considering it. "The rain will have washed away most scents."
"All the more challenge for Konoha's premier tracking clan. Unless that reputation is just for show?"
Her eyes flashed. "Fine. But if we catch nothing, you're eating double rations of the dried stuff tomorrow."
"Deal."
Ten minutes later, we slipped through the perimeter, moving east into denser forest. The rain had eased to a steady drizzle, which was a small mercy. Kuromaru padded ahead, nose to the ground, occasionally pausing to sniff the air.
"You know this is stupid, right?" Tsume muttered, scanning the undergrowth. "Most animals have better sense than to be out in this weather."
"Good thing we're not most animals, then."
She gave me a sideways look. "You do this a lot? Hunt in the rain?"
"Only when I'm trying to cheer up a caravan full of terrified civilians."
"Is that what this is about? Morale?"
I shrugged. "Food, morale, something to do besides staring at each other and jumping at thunder... take your pick."
Kuromaru wandered in circles, clearly struggling with the wet conditions. The rain had washed away most scents, leaving him visibly frustrated. Tsume didn't look much better, squinting through the drizzle.
"This is hopeless," she admitted after twenty minutes of finding nothing. "Even Kuromaru can't track in this mess."
"That's because you're both looking for the wrong signs." I knelt down, pointing to a patch of disturbed earth near a slight rise in the ground. "See this? Rabbits don't just rely on burrows—they like spots with good drainage when it rains."
"How do you know that?"
"Rabbits often feed along the edges where grass meets woods, especially in light rain. And they stick to elevated areas to avoid flooding." I moved toward a brushy area at the forest edge. "Check those slightly raised spots and brush piles."
Tsume looked skeptical but followed my lead. Sure enough, within minutes, Kuromaru had flushed a rabbit from exactly the kind of spot I'd described. Tsume lunged but missed, the rabbit darting between her legs.
"Dammit!" She scrambled to her feet, mud splattered across her face.
I barely contained my laugh. "Maybe try coming at them from downwind next time?"
She turned that glare on me, eyes narrowed like I'd just insulted her entire bloodline. "If you're such an expert, why don't you catch one?"
"Fair point." I circled wide around another promising spot, moving slowly through the wet undergrowth. Spotting slight movement near a fallen log, I waited, then struck with slick timing. My hand emerged with a squirming rabbit, which I quickly dispatched.
Tsume raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching. "Lucky grab."
"Absolutely," I agreed, though we both knew better. "Want to try again? I think I see another promising spot over there."
The next hour was a comedy of errors mixed with occasional success. Tsume and Kuromaru improved once they understood what to look for, though there were plenty of muddy falls and missed chances. By the time we'd gotten a respectable haul—three rabbits and some wild turkey that practically ran into us—Tsume had abandoned her pride in favor of learning.
"Over there," I pointed to a muddy bank beside a swollen stream. "Those plants with the broad leaves. Grab some."
"What are they?"
"Wild onions. And those mushrooms on the log—the round white ones, not the flat ones—they're good too. Just make sure they're firm, not spongy."
She nodded, stuffing a bundle of onions into her pack. That's when Kuromaru growled. Low and sharp. A sound that meant stop talking and pay attention.
We both froze.
Across the stream, something heavy shifted through the underbrush. Branches snapped. Water sloshed. Whatever it was, it wasn't small.
"Wild boar," Tsume whispered, dropping into a crouch beside Kuromaru. Her hand hovered near her weapons pouch. "Big one."
I stayed still, watching the shape move just beyond the trees. A boar that size could feed everyone in camp for days... if we brought it down. But a wounded one? That could tear through a genin if it got the jump.
"Think we can take it?" I asked, already loosening the kunai at my thigh.
The grin that spread across Tsume's face was all teeth and adrenaline. "Oh, definitely."
…
The smell of wet earth filled the air as the scout crouched on a thick branch, scanning the forest below. Dark clouds rolled overhead, grumbling with distant thunder that promised a downpour within the hour. Not ideal weather for surveillance, but perfect for staying hidden.
Eight Suna shinobi had been maintaining this observation post for three days now, their desert-colored gear adapted with mottled greens and browns to blend with the forest terrain. Their camp, nestled among dense foliage near the River Country border, consisted of little more than camouflaged tarps and basic supplies.
The scout lowered his spyglass with a quiet sigh. "Another Konoha patrol," he muttered. "Third one today."
The green-haired kunoichi, perched just a few paces to his left, gave a dry snort. "They're not even pretending to hide it anymore. That's a full squad, standard sweep formation."
Shoichi, their squad leader, approached silently from behind them, his face half-covered as always, leaving only one eye visible. Despite being in his early twenties, he carried himself with the weight of someone who'd seen too much combat.
"Report," he said, voice clipped.
The scout pointed toward the eastern edge of their watch zone. "Three five-man squads in the last six hours. They've moved nearly three kilometers deeper than last week."
"Konoha's getting bolder," said the green-haired kunoichi, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "This is the third day they've expanded their patrol range."
Shoichi's visible eye narrowed. "And River Country does nothing?"
"Their border patrols ran the moment the Konoha nin showed up," the scout replied. "They're scared out of their minds."
"With good reason," a raspy voice added from behind them.
The three turned to see the oldest member of their team approaching with his perpetually grim expression. The man was pushing fifty but could still outlast shinobi half his age.
"I was there during the last war," he said. "When Konoha decides to move, they don't go halfway. If this is a prelude to invasion, River Country's already lost."
Shoichi motioned for them to follow him back to their makeshift camp, where the other four team members were maintaining a small, smokeless fire. The smell of brewing tea mingled with the scent of rain.
"Anything from the men?" Shoichi asked the red-haired teenager who sat cross-legged with his eyes closed.
The young sensor opened his eyes slowly. "Nothing new. The checkpoint ten miles south reported increased shinobi presence, but they're staying on Konoha's side of the border. For now."
"They're testing the waters," said Shoichi, accepting a cup of tea from one of the other shinobi. "Seeing how much they can push before someone pushes back."
"Why now, though?" asked the youngest member, a girl whose white bandages contrasted sharply with her tanned skin. "What changed?"
"Something must have happened," said the scout. "Konoha doesn't mobilize like this without reason."
The green-haired kunoichi arched a brow. "You think they're gearing up for something big?" She leaned forward, her voice dropping. "Maybe they're hunting for someone. Or something."
"Or preparing for something. The Leaf doesn't mobilize this many shinobi for routine border security."
Dark clouds crowded the horizon as the wind picked up, carrying the damp smell of approaching rain.
"Our intelligence division was right. Konoha is definitely up to something in River Country."
"You think they're finally making their move? River Country's been a buffer zone for decades. If the Leaf annexes it..."
"Then they'll have direct access to our northeastern border," Shoichi finished, his tone grim. "Not to mention control of two major trade routes."
The green-haired kunoichi snorted. "The Kazekage won't stand for it. Neither will the Tsuchikage."
"Let's not jump to conclusions." The scout coughed. "Though I'll admit, my gut's telling me the same thing."
A sudden burst of chakra drew everyone's attention. Hands moved to weapons as the youngest member, who'd been on perimeter watch, appeared with a sign indicating friendly contact.
"A messenger from our Tanigakure operatives," she announced, as a shinobi dropped from the trees.
The newcomer was breathing hard, clearly having pushed himself to reach them quickly, with leaves still clinging to his clothing.
"Urgent intelligence," he gasped, handing Shoichi a sealed scroll. "From our spies in Tanigakure."
Shoichi broke the seal and scanned the contents, his face unchanged but his expression shifting just enough for the group to notice.
"Everyone gather," he ordered, tucking the scroll away. "We have new information."
The team formed a tight circle as rain began to patter on the leaves above them.
"Our spies report that two diplomatic teams left Tanigakure just now. One headed for Suna, the other for Iwa." Shoichi's voice was calm but tense. "Their exact purpose is unknown, but given recent developments, they're likely seeking some form of alliance."
"River Country is making its move," said the green-haired kunoichi. "They're finally picking sides."
"If they're reaching out to both villages, they're clearly desperate," the scout noted. "Those water resources could solve half our village's supply problems."
The older shinobi grunted in agreement. "The Kazekage has had his eye on River Country's waterways for years. This might be our chance."
Suddenly, the young sensor's head snapped up, eyes wide. "Wait," he hissed, pressing two fingers to the ground. "Konoha-nin. Six of them, coming in fast. They're cutting across the Iwa messenger route."
"How far?" Shoichi demanded.
"Two kilometers northeast, moving at full speed." The sensor's brow furrowed in concentration. "They're tracking the diplomatic team."
"We should intercept them," the green-haired kunoichi urged. "If Konoha gets that message—"
"Let them have it," Shoichi interrupted, surprising everyone.
"But sir," the scout protested, "if we prevent Konoha from intercepting—"
"Iwa will get involved eventually regardless," Shoichi said, brushing dust from his sleeve. "But if we ensure our messenger reaches Suna first, we gain the advantage in negotiations with Rivers. While Konoha and Iwa are still watching each other, we'll already be two steps ahead."
The older shinobi's eyes widened in understanding. "And with Konoha targeting the Iwa team..."
"We have even more time," Shoichi finished. "Our priority is guaranteeing our own diplomatic channel remains open."
He rolled up the map and tucked it away. "Change of plans. We move to protect the Suna-bound messengers. If Konoha's focus is on the Iwa team, they might have agents tracking our team as well. River Country needs allies against Konoha. If we're first to the negotiating table, we dictate terms, secure water rights, and still keep Konoha from our borders. Let them waste time and resources intercepting messages to Iwa."
The group exchanged glances. No one argued.
"The eastern routes would be fastest," the young sensor offered. "We could intercept our diplomatic team within four hours."
"Then that's where we're headed," Shoichi decided. "Full speed, rotating point. I want eyes on those diplomats before midnight."
Without another word, the team moved out, their footsteps already fading into the trees.