The daimyo really were moving, making sure things didn't go "off script."
At the start of the war, every daimyo of the Five Great Nations was standing firmly behind their own village—cursing the other side's ancestors for eighteen generations straight while proclaiming that their Hokage, Mizukage, Tsuchikage, Raikage or Kazekage was "invincible under heaven."
But the moment one village genuinely looked like it was about to become invincible, the daimyo started panicking. Suddenly, the "necessity of peace" became their favorite topic. That included, of course, the daimyo of Land of Fire, theoretically on the winning side.
The logic wasn't complicated:
if Konoha really unified all five great hidden villages, what would become of the daimyo?
Was the daimyo of Land of Fire actually naïve enough to believe that Konoha's unification meant Land of Fire would unify the entire world—and that he would be promoted from daimyo to emperor?
No way.
Of course not.
This is what they call a general whose merits overshadow his lord. The shinobi are already too powerful; if they grow any stronger, the daimyo and nobles will end up like real Sengoku-era court nobles and emperors—just decorative puppets in the hands of various warrior clans.
Naturally, the daimyo and aristocrats had no intention of letting it come to that.
So once word spread that Kumo had been crushed and nearly wiped out, and Iwa beaten back and routed, the ruling elites of the Five Great Nations went into a frenzy of diplomatic maneuvering.
The daimyo of Land of Fire essentially sent down "twelve imperial edicts," demanding Konoha end its war state as soon as possible and peacefully coexist with the other villages.
At the same time, the daimyo of Wind and Water put pressure on Suna and Kiri, respectively—telling them, on the one hand, to fight for a bigger share of the spoils at the negotiating table, and on the other, to trip Konoha whenever possible and refuse to fully cooperate, to make sure Konoha didn't go all the way and annihilate Iwa. Otherwise, there'd be no cleaning up afterward.
…
And so, in the spring of Year 52 of Konoha, the Fourth Shinobi World War entered a strange, slightly "scuffed ending" phase.
Konoha's forces only needed one more hard push to destroy Iwa and achieve a preliminary unification of the shinobi world—but that one last push somehow just wouldn't happen.
…
When Uchiha Yorin marched south with ten thousand fresh troops to join up with Minato's forces, Konoha's army didn't look particularly excited or happy.
In the camps, most of the shinobi were half-floating in that lazy, drifting state that comes when peace seems just around the corner.
Yorin was very displeased.
"Minato, what's going on? We're just about to smash our way to Iwa's front door, aren't we? So why are we suddenly stuck here?"
He said that as he stepped into Minato's command tent.
Seeing him walk in like that, Hiruzen on Minato's side wore a nostalgic expression, as if overlaying this "headstrong" Uchiha Yorin with the image of his long-dead childhood friend, Shimura Danzo.
"Well, how should I put this…"
Minato looked troubled. This was exactly the time for someone to play good cop/bad cop.
That role fell to the Third Hokage:
"It's an order from the daimyo's palace."
Hiruzen said calmly, "The daimyo wants us to cease our war against Iwa."
When he heard that, Uchiha Yorin very nearly blurted out, "Who the hell does he think he is?!"—an impressively politically incorrect line.
If he had actually said that, then…
…Honestly, nothing particular would've happened.
Back when Danzō made his power play, slandering Tsunade and trying to use the daimyo as a tool, acting like a live-action Cao Cao, the Fire Daimyo still didn't do much about it.
The truth is, while they control immense political and economic power, the daimyos of the shinobi world have very little military strength left.
Yes, they still have plenty of hereditary retainers and bannermen. Some of those samurai can be quite strong—like Mifune of Land of Iron, who could defeat Edo Tensei Hanzō, and not the senile Hanzō either—the fully restored, "half-god" version.
But in the grand scheme of things, the samurai caste has basically turned into civil servants; they're more bureaucrats than soldiers. Think "officials in armor" more than hardened warriors.
Their self-image is all about loyalty to their Daimyo and lord.
Would people like that cause any serious trouble for an Uchiha empire?
If, one day, the daimyo's rule really reached its end and an Uchiha shogunate was established, who do you think these "ninja-world Humphreys" would choose: cling to their old masters and oppose the new shogun, or scramble to welcome the new regime?
Obviously the latter.
If Uchiha Yorin wanted to play the game on easy mode—drink and feast, build an enormous harem, be just another "invader from beyond the passes"—it would be child's play.
Together with Nagato, he already had enough power to terrify the world. As for lineage and legitimacy, it'd be a matter of some difficulty, but not impossible.
And don't forget, Tsunade is a literal princess—her mother was an actual Land of Fire princess, and she's closely related to the current daimyo. So Tsunade holds a weak-but-real claim to the Fire throne.
Paradox players know: a claim is a claim, whether "weak" or "strong"—it all depends on how you use it.
…
But would Uchiha Yorin actually do that?
Of course not.
He didn't come to be just another lucky invader who has one good run and dies. With the looming alien threat of the Ōtsutsuki clan, he couldn't afford to.
He had to push the world forward with everything he had—not just for his own pride and ambition, but to prepare the shinobi world to face terrifying invaders like the Ōtsutsuki.
Swapping out one feudal regime for another, slightly more "enlightened" one changes nothing.
Yorin could become the emperor of the shinobi world, sure. But he couldn't simply recreate another feudal empire and call it progress.
Which meant…
"Yeah, this is about as far as we should go. Let's end this war here."
Yorin murmured to himself. His burning desire for battle cooled.
It wasn't time yet to build a full-blown constitutional monarchy capitalist empire—to move from "Macron" to "Napoleon." That would have to wait.
Given that, it was better to let peace descend—for now. To leave himself time and energy to do other, more meaningful work.
Eventually, the man-eating beast of capital would have to be let out of its cage. Yorin intended to harness its power to strengthen the shinobi world, rapidly develop its productive forces, and lay the groundwork for the next era.
Seeing his suddenly calm demeanor, Minato let out a breath.
"So you've calmed down, Yorin-kun."
The Third, on the other hand, was suspicious—wondering if Uchiha Yorin wasn't simply plotting something worse.
He wasn't.
"Ah, yeah, when you put it that way… we should respect the daimyo's order."
Yorin smiled.
"A pity we didn't get to flatten Iwa this round, but next time, we'll do even better."
Seeing him say that, the Third Hokage hesitated, then couldn't help asking the question that made Yorin want to punch him into paste:
"Uh, Yorin-kun, are you… all right? In the head?"
That's the cost of stereotypes. No matter how composed and reasonable he acted, because Yorin was an Uchiha—because he laughed "ahahahaha" when happy—everyone instinctively treated him like some deranged maniac.
Honestly, they really were underestimating him—
But after venting, Yorin immediately flipped perspectives.
If, right now, he kept acting completely calm and refined, everyone might just become more convinced he was plotting something. They'd be more cautious, more guarded.
If that happened, all eyes would be on him, watching his every move, and he wouldn't be able to get anything done. That wouldn't do at all.
So—better to lean into the role a little.
"But seriously, it is a bit frustrating to end it like this—how about we do this: we sit on the daimyo's order for a bit, launch one more offensive against Iwa, and bleed them even more.
That way we can force them into greater concessions, firm up Konoha's position, and technically still obey the daimyo. How about that?"
"Well…"
To be honest, under normal circumstances, Hiruzen really didn't want to accept that proposal.
But just as he was about to refuse, he caught that half-smile on Yorin's face—and realized this was probably… no, definitely a trap.
If he opposed Yorin now, Yorin might well flip the table:
"I've already compromised, and you old fossil still won't budge—are you trying to fight me?"
Then before Hiruzen could explain, Yorin would just haul off and slap him so hard his teeth rattled.
Hiruzen would get angry and want to hit back. Minato, standing to the side, might have to pick a side. Best case, he played mediator; worst case, one of them took him down with them.
Even if Minato remained neutral, Hiruzen could tell: this was not the moment to push.
He'd seen through everything in an instant and couldn't help but feel pleased with himself:
"As expected of me—I saw right through this scheming Uchiha."
So now what?
If it had been Danzō, he might have confronted Yorin head-on, pointed out his manipulative tactics. But Hiruzen wasn't that kind of direct.
Instead, he chose to reverse-maneuver:
"I think you're right. Let's have one last battle. What do you think, Minato?"
"…Huh? Uh, sure."
Minato was honestly a little surprised. It was hard to imagine that the same old, staunchly anti-Uchiha Third Hokage would agree with Yorin here.
But whatever the reason, it was a good thing.
He didn't want tension between his predecessor and his closest friend.
Everyone was working for Konoha's future; why shouldn't they sit down and talk things out?
"Good. In that case, let's fight one last time."
After exchanging a glance with Yorin, Minato said, energized:
"Send envoys. Deliver a formal challenge to Onoki. Let's settle this with a decisive battle."
He straightened up, eyes shining.
"Make the first battle the deciding battle—settle everything in one stroke!"
Off to the side, Hiruzen chimed in:
"Whatever happens, with fifty thousand versus twenty thousand, the advantage is ours."
Uchiha Yorin: "…"
Up until that second, he'd been pretty confident—but after hearing those two declarations, he suddenly wasn't so sure.
Why, at such a critical moment, did these two idiots have to start raising flags?
Under the blessing of those giant death flags, was Onoki really not going to pull some insane last-minute reversal?
Yorin couldn't help thinking that—and decided he'd better be extra careful.
…
In theory, ninja battles are supposed to be all shadows and deception. Formal declarations of war, deliberate appointment of time and place, arranging "honorable decisive battles"—those things almost never happen.
Even so-called "frontline battles" are usually ambushes, surprise attacks, or positional struggles over key strategic points.
But circumstances were different now.
With the daimyo stepping in, everyone felt the war was almost over.
If Konoha and Iwa fought using normal tactics from here, no one could really produce any dramatic results.
In that situation, if Iwa simply folded and refused battle, they'd go into the peace negotiations as complete losers, with no chance to save face.
Trust and reputation are everything in the mission business. People hire a village because they believe in its strength.
Konoha, with its string of victories, was indisputably the strongest. Konoha's allies could at least say, "We backed the right horse; our big brother eats meat, we drink soup."
Even Kumo, as badly beaten as it was, could still straighten its neck and say, "Well, we lost—but it was to Uchiha Yorin. You afraid or not?"
People would still mock them—but there'd be something left of their pride.
But Iwa? If Onoki refused battle at this stage—if he simply surrendered—their reputation would crater.
No one would hire them unless they were desperate. And without mission income, Iwa's finances would nosedive almost immediately.
Given that they still hadn't recovered from the trauma of the Third Great War, a collapse of Iwa wouldn't be unlikely.
After all, shinobi don't join a village to starve. If you stop paying them and shut down all their mission channels, how long do you expect them to stay loyal?
…
That's why, even though he cursed Konoha and Uchiha up and down in his heart, utterly unwilling, Onoki still put on a confident front when Konoha's envoys delivered the challenge:
"If you want a fight, I'll give you a fight. Konoha is strong? We of Iwa aren't so easily bullied! Tell Minato and Uchiha Yorin to wash their necks. We'll smash them both in one breath!"
…
And just like that, the time for the decisive battle was set for the following day—before the daimyo could be fully informed and send envoys to forcibly stop it.
On barren ground in the Land of Earth—crisscrossed by mountains and stone—seventy thousand shinobi from all five great villages would fight for the last time.
On one side stood a four-village alliance led by Konoha:
— 30,000 Konoha shinobi
— 6,000 from Kiri
— 6,000 from Suna
— and 10,000 from Kumo, rearmed under Konoha's direction.
Over 50,000 in all.
Opposing them were Iwa's 20,000—maybe even fewer.
With that kind of numerical and morale advantage, Minato and the Third were practically glowing with confidence. Even Yorin had to resist the urge to burst out in a loud "ahahahahaha," throw his head back and shout:
"Who dares kill me?!"
At this point, the only real question mark left was Onoki.
The short, red-nosed old man with the body of a gnome and the Dust Release that could erase anything—his technique was one of a kind, on par with any super-Kage level attack. His presence alone was the one serious variable in this battle.
Naturally, Uchiha Yorin had no intention of letting that variable play out unchecked.
In the war against Iwa, Yorin decided he would personally step onto the field—he himself would face Onoki and see what Dust Release was really worth.