Chapter 37: Ants and Humans
Everything Aizen did was flawless.
In other words, every one of his actions was calculated—precise, deliberate, and correct.
Not because he planned everything from the start, but because his perception was so refined that he could simply see the right course of action and allow events to unfold naturally.
Aizen bore no malice toward anyone. He merely observed.
He understood better than anyone that his technology—the Blut Vene—would inspire fear across the ninja world.
It was inevitable. The Blut Vene was a weapon that redefined the concept of battle. Those who wore it became immortal walls on the battlefield, capable of enduring relentless assaults while counterattacking with infinite precision. To ordinary ninjas, such opponents were nightmares—immortal enemies that no amount of courage could defeat.
And yet, within Konoha, few recognized this fear. They had grown accustomed to power—wielding it without ever feeling its weight. For them, strength was an ally, never an enemy.
The victims, however, felt differently.
To them, Konoha's Blut Arterie units were not heroes, but monsters. The terror was no different from what the smaller nations had once felt under the First Hokage's shadow—a power so absolute that resistance itself seemed absurd.
At first, the other nations endured it. Fear can be contained when one still believes survival is possible. But when news of the Blut Arterie reached them—its offensive potential, its capacity to merge Senjutsu into human combat—their patience ended.
They reached one unanimous conclusion.
If they did not act now, within decades, Konoha would dominate the world.
A direct war, however, would be suicide. None of them were prepared for total mobilization—especially with Sand and Stone already clashing over border disputes.
So, they chose the path of reason laced with madness.
For the first time since the founding of the hidden villages, the four great nations set aside pride and prejudice. They pooled intelligence, agents, and resources for a single purpose: the theft of Konoha's Blood Technology. Even if it cost them everything, they would strike together.
They executed the operation with perfection.
Coordinated with surgical precision, every agent—no matter their origin—moved with one purpose. In mere minutes, they breached the defenses, extracted their targets, and disappeared.
Even Aizen had to acknowledge the artistry of their work.
He loathed unnecessary conflict, yet he couldn't help but admire it—the courage, the unity, the efficiency. The human will to resist power, no matter the odds, fascinated him.
Perhaps this is evolution, he mused.
Conflict, after all, was the true catalyst of progress. Without fear, without pain, without the desperate instinct to survive, mankind would stagnate. The tension, the bloodshed, the scent of danger—it was the ladder that drove humanity forward.
"It's break time, so let me tell you something, Lady Tsunade," Aizen said suddenly, setting down his brush as he looked at her across the quiet writing room. "Have you ever watched ants fight?"
Tsunade blinked, confused.
Aizen smiled faintly and poured himself a cup of tea. "Ants are fascinating creatures. Highly social. They have a hierarchy, a chain of command, even an economy not unlike ours. I used to watch two colonies battle within a bonsai enclosure."
He raised his cup, eyes reflecting quiet amusement.
"When left alone, they live in peace. They won't even attempt to break the glass walls that contain them. But introduce scarcity—steal their sugar water, disturb their nest—and they'll change. They'll grow aggressive. They'll evolve."
He chuckled softly, as though watching the scene unfold before him.
But Tsunade felt no amusement—only a chill creeping down her spine.
She understood the metaphor all too well.
Those "ants" weren't ants at all. They were nations. They were people. And the one speaking before her wasn't an observer—he was the god who had placed them in the bonsai.
"How… how can you say that?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Don't you have any ties to this village? To the people who trust you?"
Aizen's eyes softened with detached pity.
"Ties?" he repeated. "Do you know what that word truly means, Tsunade?"
He set the teacup down gently.
"The root of the word 'bond' refers to being tied, restrained—like cattle tethered to a stake. It means submission. Obedience. Servitude. Tell me, why should humans—creatures of reason and will—bind themselves like beasts?"
His tone was calm, but the weight of his words made the air grow heavy.
"What we need is not bondage, but order. Not sentiment, but understanding. Rationality. Ideals. The courage to face truth and walk toward the future, no matter how painful it is."
He looked down at his freshly inked calligraphy, the single word heart gleaming under the lantern light.
"In Konoha, I completed my mission perfectly," he said. "I developed the Blut Arterie and the Blut Vene, granting Konoha dominance on every battlefield. I stabilized the internal structure of the village. I turned White Fang's death into a political cornerstone, connecting it to the Kazekage's demise and silencing unrest among the jonin. I fulfilled every objective—military, economic, and administrative—beyond expectation."
His voice lowered, smooth and deliberate.
"So tell me, Tsunade… who truly disrupted the order of this village? Who sabotaged the achievements we built? Who failed their duty to Konoha?"
He looked up at her, his expression unchanging—serene, almost kind, yet filled with unshakable authority.
"I don't believe it was me."
Aizen shook his head with quiet regret as he watched Tsunade, whose eyes were wide with confusion. Her thoughts were tangled, her composure shattered—she couldn't even find the words to respond.
Ninjas, he thought, rarely understood how to connect events logically.
When something went wrong, they instinctively searched for someone to blame. Yet, he couldn't truly be angry at them for it. This wasn't malice—it was ignorance.
Their education, if it could be called that, was limited to combat, stealth, and loyalty. Concepts like accountability or systemic reasoning were foreign to them. Whoever discovered a fault was considered its owner, and whoever held knowledge was deemed responsible for the consequences.
But in reality, that wasn't how responsibility worked.
The Hokage's Anbu should have managed the entire matter. The advisors—Utatane Koharu and Mitokado Homura—were the ones compiling and reviewing his data, determining what could be disclosed or restricted. Shimura Danzo, as always, was tasked with surveillance and intelligence on rival nations.
Aizen Sosuke's role, by contrast, was purely advisory. He gave counsel, offered solutions, and implemented administrative strategies—but bore no direct accountability. No one had the right to accuse him of negligence.
And yet, that was human nature.
People always blamed those who were capable for not doing enough, rather than examining their own failures. Only through true education could one recognize the irrationality of this instinct. Unfortunately, education was a luxury few ninjas possessed.
Their world had no place for philosophy, for reflection, for the humanities.
"I understand," Aizen said quietly, breaking the silence. "You want me to play the savior of Konoha. To act as the omniscient, omnipotent figure who would guide the village your grandfather built back to its imagined glory. But Tsunade… my ideals are not his."
Tsunade raised her head slightly, her eyes trembling.
Aizen's tone remained calm—soft, but cold. "Humans are often irrational. When trapped in an enclosed world, when faced with a hopeless future, they will struggle with all their might toward even an illusion of salvation. That's why I admire the ninjas of the four great villages. Confronted with despair, they didn't lie down to die—they united, fought, and created their own chance to survive."
He lifted his cup of tea, the porcelain glinting faintly under the afternoon sun. "So I gave them an opportunity. And I gave Konoha one as well. It was they who seized it—not me."
Tsunade's hands trembled slightly, her anger fading into helpless exhaustion.
Aizen's voice softened again, carrying that same haunting gentleness that made his words feel inescapable. "You speak of compassion, of bonds, of the love between comrades. But even beasts display such instincts. Wolves protect their pack. Birds grieve for their fallen. That isn't unique to humanity."
He paused, his gaze sharpening. "What separates humans from beasts is the courage to sacrifice everything for an idea—for a fragile, fleeting hope. That courage is what I wish to witness."
Tsunade's lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
"If possible," Aizen continued, "I intend to create a neutral organization—one that rescues those shinobi who have lost their way after war, those who are simply waiting for death once their comrades are gone."
His tone carried no jest; he spoke with the serene conviction of someone who believed every word.
"I despise meaningless death," he said. "No one should die like an animal—forgotten, decaying in some nameless corner of the world. Death should have meaning. Only when people understand the weight of life can they summon the courage to truly live."
He looked at her calmly. "This applies to me, to you, to Dan, and to every soul I've ever known. Tell me, Tsunade—why should I dedicate myself to the welfare of one family or one nation, when I can strive for the betterment of the world itself?"
Her breath caught in her throat.
Aizen smiled faintly, setting his cup aside. "If Konoha must depend entirely on me to survive, then perhaps Konoha no longer deserves to exist. I hope this crisis—the pressure from the four great nations—forces everyone here to evolve. I should not be the only one with courage. Every shinobi must find their own."
He rose from his seat, glancing briefly toward the open window where sunlight filtered through the leaves.
"I hope this gives you a sense of urgency," he said gently. "A reason to move forward."
Then, with his usual composed grace, he adjusted his glasses and turned toward the door.
"Ah, it's already afternoon. I'll be teaching Kakashi-kun about ninjutsu and scientific theory next. You're welcome to join, Tsunade-senpai—it might be useful."
"…No," she murmured quietly. "Thank you."
"Refusal?" he asked, a faint smile curving his lips. "That's unfortunate. A ninja who wields power without understanding the heart behind it is a truly tragic being."
He bowed politely. "Well then, farewell."
In the next instant, his image shimmered—like a reflection breaking apart on water—and vanished.
The yard grew still again. The only sound was the gentle plop of fish surfacing in the pond.
Hatake Sakumo, crouched by the water's edge, scattered the last of his breadcrumbs into the ripples and muttered to himself.
"It's better to be a koi," he said softly. "The more you know, the more it hurts."
<><><><><>
[Check Out My Patreon For +40 Advance Chapters On All My Fanfics!]
[[email protected]/FanficLord03]
[Every 100 Power Stones = +1 Bonus Chapter]
[Join Our Discord Community For Updates & Events]
[https://discord.gg/MntqcdpRZ9]