After leaving the underground bounty exchange, Danzo Shimura returned to his hidden base in silence.
The moment he stepped through the door, he tore off his hood and cloak as if they had suddenly turned heavy, suffocating. His brow furrowed - deep, sharp lines carving into a face that never truly relaxed.
Asuma Sarutobi… was dead?
And not just dead - killed by Akatsuki?
For a brief instant, Danzo's thoughts scattered, each possibility snapping like a wire drawn too tight. How? Why now? Was this Chiba's doing? Had Chiba used the exchange to place a bounty and lure Akatsuki in?
The idea formed quickly… and Danzo dismissed it just as fast.
He had watched Chiba for years - studied his patterns, weighed his temperament, traced his choices the way a hunter reads footprints. Chiba wasn't the type to dirty his hands with that kind of indirect scheme. Not because he was "noble," but because he didn't need it. Chiba crushed obstacles openly, decisively, like a blade that didn't bother hiding its edge.
And besides - those exchange houses were cesspools. A place where snakes coiled around dragons, and every shinobi worth their name carried a price on their head. Asuma Sarutobi, son of the Sandaime Hokage, once one of the Fire Daimyō's Twelve Guardian Ninja, a man who had handled confidential missions and survived the kind of darkness most never even learned existed… someone like that being hunted was normal.
If anything, it would have been strange if he wasn't on a list.
So perhaps… it was just coincidence.
But coincidence had teeth, and Danzo could already imagine how deep they would sink.
If Hiruzen learned of this, he would be shattered - and in the aftermath, his hatred for Akatsuki would be absolute. A hatred that would burn past reason, past restraint, past everything they had once been.
And Danzo… Danzo was cooperating with the very hands that had taken Hiruzen's last son.
That meant the final rupture between them wasn't coming - it had already happened. The thread had snapped; all that remained was the sound of it.
Strangely, the thought didn't panic him. It calmed him.
When you reached the edge of the cliff, there was no longer room for hesitation. Only the choice to jump - or to crawl back and be devoured anyway.
So be it.
If the world insisted on cornering him, then he would gamble everything on one brutal throw of the dice.
Asuma Sarutobi's death could indeed be called an accident.
And yet… not entirely.
He had been dispatched by Hiruzen to Sunagakure, tasked with delivering a message - an alliance with Kumogakure, a coordinated counterattack meant to reclaim Konoha. But on the road, fate twisted the path, and Asuma collided with two shadows that should never have crossed him there: Hidan and Kakuzu.
Steel met steel. Chakra flared. The air itself seemed to split beneath the violence of their clash. Asuma fought like a man with too much to protect and not enough time left to protect it - each strike sharp, each breath measured, each decision made under the pressure of seconds that refused to wait.
But in the end, he fell beneath Hidan's cursed ritual - Shiji Hyoketsu ("Death Possession Blood"). To Akatsuki, it didn't matter who died; the name on the corpse was irrelevant. What mattered was what that death signified - a signal delivered in blood, stripped of mercy and meant to be understood by anyone watching closely. Akatsuki… was beginning to move.
For four to five long years, they had been forced to remain buried in the shadows, suppressed by Chiba and the Dawn Alliance he had forged with the Five Great Nations. They couldn't afford reckless steps, couldn't risk exposing themselves while the world still had the structure - and unity - to crush them. So they waited, coiled tight and silent, patient as venom.
But now everything had changed.
With Chiba's lightning strike against Konoha, with Kirigakure and Konoha completely severed, and with Sunagakure, Kumogakure, even Iwagakure inevitably being dragged into the widening storm, the fragile stability of the shinobi world finally shattered. A new Shinobi World War no longer felt like a distant nightmare on the horizon - it felt like the next breath the world was about to take, heavy with smoke and iron. And as chaos spread, old alliances cracked under pressure. The so-called Dawn Alliance collapsed beneath its own weight, and Akatsuki slipped neatly into the fractures - feeding on disorder, rising through confusion, and turning turbulence into opportunity as they began their true operations.
The assassinations through exchange houses and bounties - harvesting wealth, resources, leverage - were only the first step. The real objective, the one that had always been waiting behind the curtain, was already moving from concept into action: the capture of the bijuuss and their jinchūriki. When the world was burning, there was no better time to hunt monsters.
Meanwhile, in Kumogakure, Hiruzen Sarutobi's unease slowly sharpened into something heavier, something that pressed on his chest whenever silence lingered too long. Asuma hadn't returned. At first, it was simply a father's worry - raw, instinctive, refusing to obey logic. But beneath it, another fear began to rot and spread, quiet and corrosive: What if Sunagakure had turned? What if something had gone wrong on their end? If Suna refused to commit, then Kumo's stance would waver as well, and the entire plan could collapse before it ever truly began. And for Hiruzen, this wasn't merely strategy or political maneuvering - it was his last rope over a bottomless pit, the final thing keeping him from falling into despair for good.
So he left. He bid farewell to the Yondaime Raikage, reaffirmed their agreement - half a month, and they would move together against Konoha - then set out with Nara Shikaku toward Sunagakure. He would speak with the Yondaime Kazekage, Rasa, in person… and he would find Asuma.
But when Hiruzen finally arrived, Rasa's answer hit him like a hammer to the ribs.
He had never seen Asuma Sarutobi.
Hiruzen's face drained of color in a single breath, as though his body recognized the truth before his mind could accept it. A cold dread crawled through his limbs, tightening around his chest until even air felt expensive. Shikaku quickly tried to steady him, choosing his words carefully, measuring them like steps across thin ice.
"Maybe Asuma ran into something and was delayed," he said. "The world's unstable right now. Trouble is normal." He paused, then added what he hoped would hold Hiruzen upright. "And Asuma's not someone ordinary trouble can stop."
Hiruzen forced himself to nod, gripping the edge of composure with fingers that threatened to slip. He pushed the worry down - not because it vanished, but because he couldn't afford to stare at it for too long. There was still a war to plan.
Rasa, for his part, had expected Hiruzen's arrival. When news came that Konoha had fallen to Chiba's strike, Rasa had been shaken - and furious. His alliance with Konoha had been built on revenge against Kirigakure, on the hope of reclaiming pride and payment for old humiliation. But now? Even Konoha - the "pillar" they had leaned on - had been smashed. If Konoha could be taken that easily, what did vengeance even mean anymore? Still, Rasa understood Hiruzen well enough to anticipate his next move. The Sandaime Hokage wasn't a man who surrendered easily. He would reach for Kumo. He would reach for Suna. He would claw at any ledge available, no matter the cost, if it meant dragging Konoha back from the abyss.
So Rasa had been waiting.
"Hokage-sama," he said, voice hardened by old resentment and fresh anger, "you can rest assured. Sunagakure has been preparing for this battle." He lifted his chin, and the bitterness in his eyes sharpened like steel. "Back then, Kirigakure crushed our village. They took wealth and resources… and they even stole what made Suna Suna - our three pillars: Jiton ("Magnet Release"), Suna Sōsa ("Sand Manipulation"), and Kugutsu no Jutsu ("Puppet Technique")." His fist tightened. "That humiliation, that blood debt - we will never let it go unpaid."
"For years, under Konoha's protection, we've stayed away from war and recovered. We're still behind the other great nations, but we've regained our footing." He drew a breath, as if swallowing fire. "We've been waiting for the day we can wash that shame away."
Hiruzen nodded, satisfaction briefly cutting through the exhaustion in his gaze. "Good, Kazekage. I need Suna's strength right now. And if we reclaim Konoha - if I become Hokage again - I promise Sunagakure will not be treated unfairly."
Rasa's expression brightened with unmistakable joy, the kind that came from seeing opportunity inside disaster. "Then I thank you, Hokage-sama."
Shikaku, standing just behind, could only sigh inwardly - wry, bitter, and tired all at once. If we take Konoha back, most of the benefits will go to Kumo. Now you're promising a share to Suna too… what will even be left of Konoha when all of this is done?
But Shikaku also understood Hiruzen's truth. For a man like him - someone whose entire existence was held together by the title he had lost - the name "Hokage" wasn't just power. It was identity. It was obsession. It was the final straw that kept him from drowning.
And so, the three-way alliance was forged: Hiruzen, the Yondaime Raikage, and Kazekage Rasa. All that remained was the appointed day - the day they would launch the counterattack to reclaim Konoha. In the eyes of many, that battle would be the spark, the opening drumbeat of a true Shinobi World War. Kirigakure would be dragged in. Iwagakure wouldn't be able to stay out. Even smaller nations - Amegakure, Kusagakure, Otogakure - would be caught in the undertow.
The Fourth Great Ninja War felt… imminent.
And then -
Two mysterious men arrived in Konoha.
The village was still recovering, its foundations shaken, its systems in disarray. The sensory barrier had been damaged, and the barrier team was incomplete. No alarms sounded. No warning was given.
"This is Konoha?" Hidan's voice carried an easy, mocking disdain. "Doesn't look like much, Kakuzu."
Kakuzu gave a low snort, eyes drifting over the Hokage Rock - those enormous faces carved into stone, staring forever over the village they had once guarded. His gaze paused on the Shodaime Hokage, Hashirama Senju, and memory - old and unwanted - rose like a corpse from dark water. Long ago, back when he still belonged to Takigakure, they had forced a mission on him: assassinate Hashirama. The result had been inevitable, humiliating… yet Hashirama hadn't killed him. He had let him walk away. Takigakure's leaders, however, decided failure deserved only one outcome: execution. Something in Kakuzu had broken that day - something human, something fragile. Rage swallowed whatever restraint remained, and he slaughtered Takigakure's upper ranks, stole their treasure, and fled with the forbidden scroll of Jiongu ("Earth Grudge Fear"), becoming an S-rank missing-nin.
It had been so many years ago. Hashirama was a legend now. Konoha had already moved on to its Godaime Hokage. And Kakuzu? Kakuzu was still here - still walking, still breathing, still enduring in a way that didn't feel like living. Sometimes, even he wasn't sure it was life. He didn't feel like a man anymore - more like a mechanism that refused to stop.
The one thing that kept him anchored, his last stubborn thread of humanity, was greed. Not because he loved money for its own sake, but because if he ever stopped caring - if he ever let that desire fade - then time would swallow him whole. He would drift into emptiness, into a dead calm, and become nothing more than a corpse that didn't know it was dead. Greed wasn't a flaw.
It was survival.
Kakuzu shook his head, forcing the thoughts away before they could deepen into something useless. None of that mattered - not the past, not legends carved into stone, not the strange emptiness that always waited at the edge of his mind. What mattered was the job. The payout. The simple, stubborn rhythm of transaction and reward that kept him tethered to himself.
For all his brutality, Kakuzu had a principle when it came to business: a deal was a deal. One hand paid, the other delivered. He didn't rob clients just because he could. It wasn't mercy. It was structure - something rigid enough to hold him steady when time tried to erode what little remained of the man he used to be.
"Let's go, Hidan," he said, voice flat.
"Yeah, yeah."
They lowered their heads and moved through Konoha's streets with the ease of predators who didn't need to hide. The village was still half-open wounds and fresh scaffolding - cracked roads, patched walls, the faint smell of dust and new timber drifting through the air. People passed by without noticing, too busy rebuilding their lives to look too closely at two men who walked like they had no place among the living.
Konoha's defenses were in disarray. The sensory barrier had been damaged, the barrier team incomplete, and the gaps weren't subtle to trained eyes - they were an invitation. No alarms. No pursuit. Not even that faint prickling sensation a village usually gave you when its unseen systems watched your every step.
Hidan glanced around with lazy contempt, lips curling. "This is Konoha? Doesn't look like much, Kakuzu."
Kakuzu didn't answer. His eyes drifted up, toward the Hokage Rock, toward those enormous faces staring down at the village as if they could still protect it by sheer presence alone. The stone was weathered, but the legends weren't. That was the joke of it - time could erode rock, but stories only sharpened.
His gaze paused on the Shodaime Hokage, Hashirama Senju, and the memory came anyway - uninvited, heavy as a chain. Long ago, Takigakure had forced him to do the impossible: assassinate Hashirama. He had failed, of course. He had been crushed so completely it had felt less like defeat and more like being reminded of his place in the world.
And yet Hashirama hadn't killed him.
He had let him leave.
The village that sent him, however, had decided failure deserved only one outcome. Execution.
That betrayal had snapped something inside him - something that never healed properly. Rage had eaten through restraint, and Kakuzu had slaughtered Takigakure's upper ranks, stolen their treasure, and fled with the forbidden scroll of Jiongu ("Earth Grudge Fear"), stepping into the world as an S-rank missing-nin.
It had been… countless years since then.
Hashirama was long dead, reduced to myth. Konoha had moved on to its Godaime Hokage. And Kakuzu? Kakuzu was still here - still walking, still breathing, still stubbornly refusing to rot the way a man should.
Sometimes, he didn't feel like a man at all. More like a mechanism that refused to stop turning.
Greed was the only thing that kept him anchored. Not because money made him happy - it didn't - but because the moment he stopped caring about it, the last thread would snap. He would drift, hollow and quiet, until he became nothing but an empty shell with a pulse.
Hidan, beside him, was humming to himself like a child on a stroll. Immortal too, but too young - and too simple - to understand how eternity could grind you down into dust. His anchor wasn't money. It was religion. The manic, shining certainty of someone who believed devotion could fill any void.
Kakuzu didn't argue with him about it. Time would do that eventually.
"Come on," Kakuzu said at last, and their steps angled toward the Hokage building.
Inside the Hokage's office, the atmosphere was entirely different - paperwork instead of blood, responsibilities instead of blades.
Chiba sat with the ease of someone who had already carried a village on his shoulders and survived it, while Tsunade worked across from him with an expression that flickered between irritation and focus. She hadn't wanted the title - had fought it, cursed it, tried to dodge it the way she dodged commitment for most of her life. But once she took the seat, something in her clicked into place, as if the role had always been waiting for her.
The only thing she truly missed was gambling. The absence of it left a dull itch under her skin, the kind that made quiet days feel too quiet. Still, as Hokage, she adapted fast - faster than she wanted to admit.
Shizune, meanwhile, was the true engine of the office: organized, relentless, competent in a way that made the chaos of leadership look almost manageable. She sorted reports, condensed disasters into paragraphs, and delivered the village's problems to Tsunade in neat stacks, as if order itself could be created by force of discipline.
Chiba watched them for a moment, and a faint smile touched his mouth.
Tsunade noticed immediately, eyes narrowing. "What are you smiling at?"
Chiba's tone was light, but there was something thoughtful beneath it, the way there always was when he looked calm. "Was I this busy back when I was in the Mizukage's office?"
Tsunade actually paused, replaying memories she hadn't expected to use. "...Yeah," she admitted. "Pretty much."
Then she exhaled and leaned back, rolling her shoulders as if she could stretch the fatigue out of her bones. "Watching you deal with this makes me relax a little. Being Mizukage or Hokage sounds impressive until you realize it's basically a job designed to drain your soul."
Chiba's eyes softened, amused in a quiet way. "Tell me about it."
Tsunade's lips twitched. "I don't know when I'll get to eat and drink with you again - let alone gamble properly. Really properly."
Shizune stared at the mountain of documents like it had personally offended her. "...Not anytime soon, Tsunade-sama."
Tsunade: "..."
For a heartbeat, the office almost felt normal - almost peaceful.
And then it changed.
Chiba's expression shifted, subtle as a blade sliding free of its sheath without making a sound. His gaze lifted toward the window, toward the streets below, and the air in the room seemed to tighten in response, as if even the light sensed something wrong.
Two unfamiliar figures were moving through the village.
At the same time, far below, Kakuzu looked up at the Hokage building.
Their eyes met across distance and glass.
For a single heartbeat, it felt like the world held its breath.
Chiba's brow creased slightly… and then he smiled, quiet and sharp, like someone who had just confirmed what he already suspected.
"Kakuzu," he murmured.
"So he came straight to Konoha… that means I'm the target."
His thoughts moved quickly, cold and controlled, threading possibilities together into a single line. Is this Hiruzen's doing?
No. That didn't fit.
Hiruzen's focus would be on binding Kumo and Suna into a coalition - convincing the Raikage and Kazekage, preparing a counterattack to reclaim Konoha. He didn't need Akatsuki, and more importantly, he still clung to the image of himself as Hokage. A man like that wouldn't stain his hands by dealing with a terrorist organization unless absolutely cornered.
So the answer was obvious.
Danzo Shimura.
During the lightning strike, that old viper had used Izanagi to fake his death and slip away. And now, it seemed he had finally crossed the last line he had pretended still mattered - choosing to work with Akatsuki.
Chiba understood immediately why.
Danzo was desperate. Cornered. Out of time. If he could defeat Chiba - or even just drive him out of Konoha - then with Hiruzen absent, Danzo could seize the Hokage seat and fulfill his ambition before the world swallowed him whole.
Below, Kakuzu's gaze sharpened, killing intent blooming without restraint. He kept walking, but his chakra stirred - heavy and oppressive, like something ancient waking up inside a human shell.
"You're Mizukage Chiba?" Kakuzu called, voice carrying up through the open air.
Chiba looked down at them from above, calm and unhurried - like a man watching two insects decide they wanted to bite.
"Kakuzu. Hidan."
They froze.
Shock flashed across both faces. They hadn't expected their identities to be exposed the moment they arrived - especially not by someone who should have been a stranger. With their current disguises, even people within Akatsuki might not have recognized them instantly.
Kakuzu let out a harsh breath, eyes narrowing. "So you really are the Mizukage. No wonder they say you know everything."
Hidan scratched his ear, scowling. "Oi, oi, oi. How the hell does he know who we are, Kakuzu?!"
Kakuzu shot him a look full of impatience. "How would I know?"
Hidan grinned anyway, dragging his triple-bladed scythe from behind his back. Metal scraped, a thin scream of steel as it cleared the strap. He swung it once - testing the weight, the reach, the hungry arc of its blades. The air whistled sharply, cut clean as cloth, and dust shivered on the ground in the wake of it.
"Doesn't matter," Hidan said, voice swelling with manic joy. "We're gonna kill him anyway."
He tipped his head back as if speaking directly to the sky. "Jashin-sama above - listen to the prayer of your most devoted follower!!!"
Inside the office, Tsunade and Shizune's concern sharpened the instant Chiba moved.
He didn't hesitate.
One step - and he was gone.
Chiba vaulted from the building, and in a blur of controlled force he landed on the street below as if gravity had no authority over him. Dust lifted at his feet in a soft ring, then settled.
He stood facing them - Chiba against the Immortal Duo - while the space between them tightened like a drawn wire.
A battle was about to erupt.
And once it did… it wouldn't stop until something finally broke.
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