Konoha Village, Konoha Square.
Thick layers of dark clouds loomed overhead, completely blotting out the sun. The village, usually vibrant and full of life, now felt cold and gray—its heart heavy with grief.
In the village square, a sea of shinobi dressed in black stood in silence. Each wore a Konoha forehead protector, their expressions solemn, their stances respectful. A white altar had been erected at the front, blanketed in chrysanthemums.
Standing on the altar were Tsunade, Uchiha Hikaru, and Hyuga Hiashi. Before them stood the clan heads and department leaders of the village—an assembly of Konoha's elite.
Even Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu stood at the forefront, their aged faces tense with emotion as they gazed at the coffin before them, which held the body of Sarutobi Hiruzen.
Everyone's gone…
Among their generation—those who had trained under the Nidaime Hokage—only the two of them remained. Tobirama, Kagami, Tōka, Danzō… all had already passed on. And now, even Hiruzen, the one who had borne the weight of the Hokage's mantle for decades, had fallen in battle.
They stood there, hollow-eyed, surrounded by a new generation of shinobi. The old era was truly over.
Tsunade, clad in black funeral robes, stepped forward with a solemn expression.
In front of her stretched a crowd of mourners.
The Uchiha Clan. The Hyuga Clan. The Nara Clan. The Yamanaka Clan. The Akimichi Clan. The Sarutobi Clan. The Aburame Clan. The Inuzuka Clan…
Even civilian shinobi and students from the Academy had come, dressed in plain black, each holding a chrysanthemum as they paid their respects to the Third Hokage.
Surrounding the square were members of the Uchiha Police Force and the ANBU—quiet sentinels maintaining order during the ceremony.
Uchiha Fugaku and Uchiha Itachi stood among them, both clad in mourning black. Their expressions were conflicted as they looked toward the coffin.
If Uchiha Hikaru hadn't appeared when he did, it might have been Fugaku lying in that coffin today.
Though both father and son had harbored resentment toward Hiruzen in the past, today, they let those feelings go. Today, they honored a man who died not in politics, but in defense of his village.
Whatever his mistakes… Sarutobi Hiruzen had died a shinobi's death.
As the dark clouds began to release a gentle rain, Tsunade stepped forward and spoke.
Her voice, amplified by chakra, carried through the square.
"As the Third Hokage of Konohagakure, Sarutobi Hiruzen led our forces to the front lines the moment the war with Kirigakure broke out…"
"To confront the Three-Tails Jinchuriki—Fourth Mizukage Yagura—he cast aside his aging body and entered the fray. Though ultimately defeated…"
"He did not falter. To protect Konoha's shinobi… to defend the lives behind him… he gave his life willingly."
"With the Reaper Death Seal, he bound both the Three-Tails and Yagura's souls, sealing them for eternity…"
She paused.
A hush fell over the crowd as Tsunade finished reading the eulogy. Then, Orochimaru, Jiraiya, and Sarutobi Shinnosuke stepped forward, mirroring her movements.
The four of them stood at the corners of the coffin.
"Let the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, take one last look at the village he loved," Jiraiya said, his voice low and resonant.
Together, they lifted the coffin onto their shoulders.
From the crowd, Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu stepped forward, walking behind the coffin silently.
"Monkey… let us send you off one last time," Koharu whispered, eyes moist.
Meanwhile, in the capital of the Land of Fire, Sarutobi Asuma still hadn't received the news. It had only been two days—too soon for messages to reach him, and the return journey to Konoha would take just as long.
But something in the air felt off.
Frowning, Asuma reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter.
Click.
Click.
Click.
"…What the hell? Why won't it light?"
He scowled. "I bought the exact one the old man liked—expensive, too. Why the hell won't it work?"
Sighing, he lit the cigarette using Fire Style chakra. But just two puffs in, the rain began to fall.
Ssshhh…
The cigarette hissed as the rain snuffed it out.
He froze.
Suddenly, his father's words echoed in his mind—fragments from old letters, old arguments, long conversations.
"Asuma, don't pick up my bad habits. Learn something good instead."
"You stubborn brat… why do you insist on becoming a Guardian Ninja?"
"Asuma… when will you come home? I'm no longer Hokage. You don't have to rebel anymore."
The rain mixed with his breath as his hands trembled.
"…Old man…"
CRACK!
A bolt of lightning split the sky. Asuma felt something tear inside—a sudden, terrible emptiness.
"Asuma, what's wrong?"
A soft voice came from behind, a fellow Guardian Ninja.
Asuma turned slowly, eyes hollow.
"…Tell the Daimyō…"
"I'm returning to Konoha."
Without waiting for a response, he dashed into the storm, heart pounding.
It's just an illusion…
It has to be…
The old man… he wouldn't die like this, right?
If he's gone… who else is going to argue with me anymore…?
Back in Konoha, Tsunade, Orochimaru, Jiraiya, and Sarutobi Shinnosuke carried the coffin through the village, surrounded by shinobi bearing the urns of fallen comrades.
Rain soaked them all. No one spoke.
Only the silent rhythm of feet on wet stone echoed through the village.
By nightfall, they reached the cemetery.
One by one, they placed Sarutobi Hiruzen's coffin and the urns of the fallen into the soil.
And one by one, they covered them—by hand—with earth.
Uchiha Hikaru stood in silence, his heart heavy as he watched the final rites unfold.
So this… is the life of a shinobi.
No matter how powerful we become…
We still die. Just like that.
A single mistake, a jutsu too slow, a moment of hesitation—death always lingered nearby.
In this twisted world of blood and conflict… human life is so easily discarded.
His fists clenched. His kaleidoscope Sharingan spun wildly, the tomoe blurring into a furious spiral.
His hatred for this world… for its endless cycle of war… surged to the surface.
But it was no longer a hatred born of revenge.
Now it was sharpened—focused—by a singular, burning desire.
The desire to bring peace.
To end this world of pain.
To stop this history from repeating again… and again… and again.
"…This ninja world…"
"…I will bring it to an end with my own hands…"
"…And history…"
"…will be rewritten—because of me."
(╯︵╰,)
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