Konoha Forward Command Post
Inside the tent, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Around a makeshift conference table assembled from several long desks sat the current core of Konoha's forces stationed in Ame.
At the head sat Danzō, his expression darker than the skies outside.
To his left sat Tsunade and Ryo, while on his right were Orochimaru and several elite jōnin.
The devastating losses suffered by the camp, Nawaki's near-fatal injuries, Mikoto's poisoning, and the overwhelming shock brought by Ryo's inhuman strength all weighed heavily on everyone present.
The war was over. But the real accounting and arrangements had only just begun.
Danzō cleared his throat. His voice carried the usual bureaucratic tone of someone in command, tinged with an undercurrent of suppressed emotion. "Orders from the Third Hokage have arrived. The war is over. Our current focus is post-war arrangements."
His gaze swept across the room, pausing momentarily on Tsunade and Ryo with a hint of scrutiny. "The frontline encampment will not be dismantled yet. We'll wait until Suna formally signs the treaty. Personnel rotation must begin immediately. There are many Suna captives that need guarding. We must also remain vigilant against any remaining Ame shinobi or a potential counterattack from Suna."
He tapped the tabletop. "We need to decide on the personnel who'll remain behind and the first group to escort the wounded back to Konoha."
Tsunade sat with her arms crossed, her golden ponytail slightly disheveled. Exhaustion and a barely contained restlessness flickered in her eyes. Nawaki lay in the medical tent, his chakra pathways ravaged by poison. His fate was uncertain, and her mood reflected that turmoil.
And the root cause of all this was that plan.
That reckless, inexplicably confident operation pushed forward under the false authority of the Third, devised by none other than Danzō.
It was that very plan that forcibly pulled away the camp's top combat forces, including her, Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and Ryo, for an assassination attempt on Hanzō. That left the camp virtually undefended, allowing Chiyo to seize the opportunity and lead the Suna army straight in.
"Tsunade," Danzō suddenly called her name. "Where is Jiraiya?"
His single eye was as sharp as an eagle's, filled with suspicion. In a gathering like this, Jiraiya's absence was glaring.
Tsunade looked up. Her tone was flat but left no room for doubt. "The old man gave him another mission."
She didn't look at Danzō, her gaze instead fixed on a crack in the corner of the table. In her heart, though, she wanted to punch that idiot Jiraiya into a mural. He'd gone AWOL for the sake of a few orphans from the Land of Rain, essentially deserting his post.
But she had to cover for him.
As for Hiruzen, that old man might scold him but wouldn't seriously pursue it.
"Idiot," Orochimaru muttered under his breath. A flash of helplessness flickered in his golden snake-like eyes. Of course he knew why Jiraiya had slipped away. That was why he wouldn't expose Tsunade's lie. Jiraiya was the only one he could still call a comrade.
Still, Jiraiya's naïve, rule-breaking actions were, even to him, utterly foolish. Thankfully, the idiot had at least waited until the war's conclusion to sneak off, or else...
Orochimaru's lips curled with cold mockery.
"Hmph." Danzō snorted heavily through his nose. He didn't know what Jiraiya was up to, but this wasn't the time to dig into such trivialities.
He had bigger issues to deal with, like redirecting attention away from himself.
The light in his remaining eye turned cold as he pointed his blade toward Tsunade, Ryo, and Orochimaru.
"Now, let's discuss your failure. The mission to assassinate Hanzō ended in complete failure due to your mistakes."
His voice rose, sharp with accusation. "Because of your failure, Konoha's top combat power was dragged away."
"You gave Suna the perfect opening to launch a massive sneak attack, resulting in heavy losses at our camp. You—"
He deliberately paused, letting the pressure build, attempting to shift the blame for his own disastrous plan, the one that removed Konoha's top fighters and left the camp vulnerable, entirely onto the three before him.
A loud bang.
Tsunade's furious palm slammed down on the thick wooden table, cracking it with a spiderweb of fractures.
She shot to her feet, explosive killing intent radiating from her. Her golden eyes burned with fury as she locked onto Danzō.
"Shimura Danzō, do you want to die?!"
His shameless attempt to shift blame had lit the fuse. The camp had been raided by Chiyo's forces, her brother Nawaki left gravely wounded, his chakra network destroyed and future uncertain, all because of Danzō's arrogant, flawed plan executed under false authority.
It was his foolishness and vanity that forced Konoha to pay a terrible price and made her brother suffer irreversible harm.
"How dare you speak to me like that!" Danzō also shot to his feet, his one eye gleaming with fury. As a village elder and leader of Root, he refused to be intimidated by a younger shinobi.
The air in the tent tensed instantly. The elite jōnin held their breath. Nara Shikaku frowned deeply. Mikoto looked on with concern.
Then came a soft, cold snort, so cold it cut to the bone.
The sound wasn't loud, but it struck Danzō's chest like an invisible hammer.
A vast, overwhelming spiritual pressure descended, crushing and filled with destruction. It was precisely targeted and focused entirely on Danzō.
"Ugh." Danzō's body froze, like a giant invisible hand had seized him. His bones creaked under the pressure. His brain felt like it was being stabbed by a thousand icy needles.
A deep, soul-level fear gripped him, choking the air from his lungs. His vision darkened. His legs went weak.
The memory of kneeling under Ryo's Conqueror's Haki-like pressure surged back like a tidal wave, reawakening that primal terror.
Danzō's face drained of color, turning deathly pale. Veins bulged at his temple. Cold sweat soaked into the edge of his bandages.
The hand he braced on the table trembled violently. His body leaned involuntarily downward, as if crushed by an invisible weight.
The scolding he was about to spit out was swallowed back, replaced only by ragged, terrified breathing. The anger and accusations in his eye shattered under that crushing will, leaving only instinctive fear and submission.
The tent was so quiet, a pin drop could be heard.
Orochimaru's golden eyes narrowed, clearly intrigued as he watched Danzō's sudden breakdown. He seemed to be assessing the intensity and accuracy of the mental pressure.
He scoffed inwardly. If not for Ryo receiving Mikoto's distress signal and abandoning the near-dead Hanzō to rush back with Flying Thunder God and turn the tide, Danzō wouldn't even have the chance to be here blaming others.
Tsunade's lips curved faintly. Her rage cooled a little, stifled by Danzō's sudden submission.
The other elite jōnin looked like they'd swallowed ice water.
Ryo didn't even glance at Danzō. He just flicked his finger absentmindedly.
He remained seated quietly. That single cold snort dropped the temperature in the entire command post.
Danzō barely held himself upright. Though the pressure had vanished in an instant, its aftershock left his heart pounding and mind reeling.
He clenched his molars. Humiliation and fear gnawed at him like venomous snakes. He didn't even dare look in Ryo's direction.
Shimura Danzō, Konoha elder, Root's leader, once again reduced to a wreck under the gaze of a 15-year-old boy.
He forcibly changed the subject, his voice dry and strained. "The war may be over, but Suna's negotiators haven't arrived yet. The frontline camp stays for now. Next, we'll continue planning for garrison and withdrawal."
He practically forced himself to sit back down.
In the end, the following decisions were made under a suffocating silence.
Tsunade and Ryo would lead the escort of non-combatants, critical supplies, and all wounded including Nawaki and Mikoto back to Konoha.
Danzō and Orochimaru would remain behind with a team of elites, tasked with guarding Suna captives, maintaining operations, and monitoring the situation in Ame and Suna.
The meeting ended awkwardly, in an indescribable chill. One by one, the shinobi exited the tent.
Tsunade was the first to storm out. She didn't want to stay even a second longer or see Danzō's infuriating face again. Before leaving, she cast him a cold, scathing glare.
Ryo followed calmly, his footsteps steady. As he passed Danzō, he didn't even glance his way, treating him like empty air.
That silent disregard stung more than any insult. Danzō's heartbeat spiked again. Under the table, his hand clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his flesh.
Orochimaru was the last to leave. He rose unhurriedly, golden pupils flashing with a cold gleam in the dim light, like a serpent watching prey.
At the door, he paused. Tilting his head slightly, he cast a look at Danzō. The corner of his lips curled into a faint, unreadable smile, conveying hunger and evaluation. Then he slipped soundlessly into the rain outside.
Only Danzō remained in the tent.
He sat stiffly, his one eye fixed on the cracked table in front of him. His face was a storm of gloom.
To be so thoroughly crushed and humiliated by a brat in front of everyone, without even the courage to resist, this was utter disgrace.
That lingering fear still coursed through his limbs, reminding him of that terrifying, irresistible power.
He suddenly slammed his fist into the broken table with a dull thud. "I must… find a way…" he muttered, his voice low and twisted.
Hiruzen was already starting to cool down, but that wasn't enough. He needed more leverage.
More importantly, today's humiliation, the botched plan, the failed scapegoating, and being suppressed in public, must never leak out. It would be a fatal blow to both his influence and Root's reputation.
Elsewhere in the camp, the medical area.
The largest tent was filled with the sharp scent of disinfectant and herbs. Two beds were placed side by side.
Nawaki lay on the outer bed. His face was pale, lips blue, breathing weak. Though the worst of the poison had been suppressed, the toxin from Chiyo had deeply corroded his chakra network. The skin around the wound was swollen and blackened. The necrotic tissue was impossible to remove.
A medical-nin stood by, carefully using Mystical Palm Technique to maintain his vitals and slow the poison's spread. The sweat on her forehead showed just how difficult the task was.
On the other bed was Mikoto. Her condition was much better. The lethal wound beneath her ribs had been cleaned and bandaged, with medicine applied beneath the gauze. The poison had been purged. She just looked weak from blood loss and pain.
Tsunade had personally treated her injuries. She now sat by Mikoto's bedside, gently checking her bandages.
Mikoto sat up slightly, her face still pale, but her eyes had regained clarity. Gratitude and relief shone in them.
She knew clearly that if the Flying Thunder God seal Ryo had placed on her hadn't activated at the moment of death, summoning him back from his fight with Hanzō, she'd have already died.
Ryo stood a short distance away, facing the tent's entrance. Outside, voices shouted as supplies were loaded and preparations for departure began. His posture was straight, red hair appearing darker in the camp's dim lighting.
"How are you feeling?" Tsunade asked softly after finishing the check. She tucked Mikoto's blanket in, her voice unusually gentle. Around patients, especially her disciple, her temper eased.
"Much better, Tsunade-sensei," Mikoto replied quietly, her gaze drifting involuntarily to Ryo's back. Her eyes were filled with dependence and calm. "Thanks to you."
"Hmph, don't thank me. Just focus on recovering." Tsunade scoffed, but her tone was not harsh.
She stood and walked over to Nawaki's bed. Looking at his pain-twisted face in unconsciousness, her brows furrowed again. Pain and anger swirled in her eyes.
She extended a hand, soft green chakra light gathering at her fingertips as she covered the edge of his wound, trying to suppress the stubborn poison. But her expression remained heavy. It could only delay, not heal.
Nawaki's future... Tsunade didn't dare think further.
"Nawaki-senpai…" Mikoto looked worriedly at him, her voice dropping off.
"He won't die!" Tsunade cut her off sharply, more like she was convincing herself. "Once we're back in Konoha, I'll figure something out!"
(To be continued.)
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