"Lord Third."
Just as Hiruzen Sarutobi was lost in thought, Akimichi Doto, who had recovered for the most part, spoke in a hoarse voice:
"War… is it coming?"
Hiruzen's thoughts were interrupted. Hearing Doto's question, he couldn't help but sigh.
"Yes," he answered. "At least, that's how it looks for now."
"We… cough, cough!"
Doto's chest suddenly sank heavily. He opened his mouth to say something, but a violent cough overtook him, staining the white bedsheet with spots of blood.
"Senior Doto, please don't speak anymore!"
Hyūga Kumokawa quickly stood, rushed to his side, took tissues to wipe the spit and blood from his lips, and helped him lie back down.
Immediately, Kumokawa turned his gaze toward the silent Hiruzen Sarutobi, his face carrying a trace of anger. He spoke firmly:
"Lord Third, Kumogakure and Iwagakure have overstepped again and again—we can't hesitate any longer!"
At those words, Hiruzen froze for a moment, lowered his head with a bitter smile, and responded perfunctorily:
"You're still young. You don't understand what war really means…"
"No, I do."
Before Hiruzen could finish, he was interrupted. He instinctively raised his head, only to meet a pair of pure eyes filled with determination and resolve.
"No one wishes to face the cruelty of war. My father and mother both died on the battlefield."
Their eyes locked. Kumokawa spoke in a deep voice:
"But we have retreated, again and again—until there is nowhere left to retreat!"
Hiruzen's eyes trembled slightly, and he asked slowly:
"Why…"
"Because behind us stands Konoha. Our families, and our friends!" Kumokawa declared, each word firm and heavy. "Lord Third, please give the order. Even if I'm the only one—I'll stand at the frontlines."
"They want war, then we shall give them war!"
The words dropped, and the entire ward fell into dead silence.
Hiruzen, Koharu Utatane, and Akimichi Doto all stared at Kumokawa, stunned.
Their once-cowed hearts were suddenly struck by a wave of emotion.
They could hardly believe these words had come from the mouth of a fifteen-year-old boy.
They, the adults and elders, seemed lesser than this child.
"…Kumokawa."
After a long silence, Hiruzen seemed to reach a decision. His eyes, faintly shining, met Kumokawa's as he said solemnly:
"These words—would you dare say them again before others?"
"I would." Kumokawa nodded without hesitation.
At his side, Koharu seemed to realize something. She couldn't help but speak:
"Hiruzen, you don't mean to—"
"Yes." Hiruzen nodded. "I'll take this boy to the jonin council."
"Lord Third, that won't do!"
Doto's expression changed, and he blurted out instinctively.
As someone born into a shinobi clan, he understood all too well the mindset of other clan-born shinobi.
Even among the loyalists of the Akimichi, many still only cared about themselves and their family's interests.
They refused to risk everything for the sake of Konoha as a whole.
To put it bluntly, that was the "inherent flaw" of the shinobi clans.
Their power didn't just come from wealth and military might, but more importantly from monopolizing ninjutsu, secret techniques, and cultural knowledge.
Ninjutsu was extremely valuable.
For a commoner-born shinobi, it was difficult to obtain. Only clans could pass these arts down and lock them within the family through inheritance and education.
And through trust and support within the clans, they had built vast and powerful social networks.
These networks gave them higher political status and reinforced their influence—forming a fragile balance with the Hokage himself.
But only that much.
"Senior Doto," Kumokawa's voice was calm, "I must go."
Looking at Kumokawa's composed, determined expression, both Doto and Koharu felt stirred.
"To think, the Hyūga clan—so long considered rigid and stubborn—could produce someone willing to abandon clan prejudice."
After all, Doto had once been the companion of the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze. Under Minato's influence, his sense of belonging to Konoha outweighed loyalty to his own clan.
Koharu, molded by the Second Hokage Tobirama Senju, was even more so.
It was precisely because of this that they understood what Kumokawa's choice truly meant.
Hiruzen, of course, also understood. His gaze toward Kumokawa grew gentler.
"Then let's go." He patted Kumokawa's shoulder, squeezing lightly in reassurance. "Don't worry. You're not alone."
He was still the Third Hokage—not yet fully decayed.
Kumokawa was right. Since retreat was no longer possible, hesitation had no place either.
Now he had to act before Kumogakure could respond—to paint them as the instigators, rouse the fury of Konoha's shinobi and the Fire Daimyō, and pull forces from the clans to form a preemptive strike.
But extracting resources from the clans was never easy.
Even as Hokage, he couldn't simply order them to send their kin to die at the front.
Doing so would only drive them away, turning them against his leadership.
If, however, a young clan-born shinobi like Kumokawa stood up voluntarily…
That was different.
But it also meant Kumokawa would become the first target—the one sticking out his neck.
It meant betraying not only the Hyūga clan but the entire faction of clan-born shinobi.
It meant severing himself completely, abandoning his surname, abandoning the resources of the Hyūga that had once been his lifeline.
After all, before his death, Hizashi Hyūga had entrusted Kumokawa to Hiashi Hyūga.
From within the clan, he could have received resources far beyond what ordinary shinobi could ever hope to match.
So this wasn't a decision to be made lightly. That was why Hiruzen, Koharu, and Doto were so shocked—yet so moved.
But… was Hyūga Kumokawa truly so noble and selfless?
---
Click.
Hiruzen pushed open the door to the council chamber. Light spilled across the wall, casting his shadow—and that of the figure behind him.
In the glow of the chamber, their shadows weren't the only ones.
Across both walls, row upon row of silhouettes swayed—some old, some young, some modest and simple, others ambitious and grasping.
The moment Hiruzen entered, everyone present stood in unison.
"Lord Third."
Voices of all kinds rang out together—anxious, solemn, doubtful.
Though some still didn't know the reason for this council, those with access to information had already guessed.
And so this chorus of "Lord Third" felt less like respect—more like pressure.
A collective, unanimous, oppressive pressure, directed at the Hokage himself.