When Sarutobi Sasuke stepped out of the treeline, Arata's expression tightened instantly.
His feud with Hiruzen had always been traced back to this man. During the weeks Arata had monitored the Third Hokage, he'd learned an uncomfortable truth—half the orders Hiruzen issued didn't come from him at all. Most were handed down by the old man standing before him now.
Meaning the "daimyō" title was nothing more than decoration.
This was the real power ruling the Land of Fire.
And for Sasuke to choose this exact moment to reveal himself… Arata knew the trap had been set long before he arrived.
During the earlier battle against the elite of Kumogakure, Arata had held back his trump cards—not because he didn't need them, but because he was waiting for this fox to make a move.
This man's scheming ran deep. The Raikage might charge in headfirst, but Sarutobi Sasuke moved whole nations like pieces on a board.
Without anyone realizing it, the Kumo had already lost their Eight-Tails jinchūriki, the Raikage was crippled, and their retreat path was now cut off—blocked by the combined forces of the Land of Fields and fresh reinforcements from Konoha.
Even if Arata walked away right now, the battle was already decided.
For the next decade at least, Kumogakure would have no strength left to threaten Konoha.
This was Sasuke's true power—not merely his strength as a peak Kage-level shinobi, but his terrifying mastery of political warfare. He used foreign armies the way others used kunai: with precision and maximum impact.
Far in the distance, Blue B—now fully transformed into the rampaging Eight-Tails—caught sight of Sasuke's arrival and immediately understood.
As the Kumo's strongest force, he'd long known that Sasuke had abandoned public life to become the hidden puppet-master of the Land of Fire.
But… Arata was from the Leaf.
Why would the Fire Daimyō attack his own nation's shinobi?
The Eight-Tails couldn't understand human scheming, only instinct.
But even instinct told him one thing:
With Sasuke here, Arata wouldn't have time to chase him.
And so the massive ox-demon didn't wait another heartbeat—he turned and fled.
He would never dare flee toward the Land of Fire, not with monsters like Madara's legacy, Arata, and the Nine-Tails all tied to that cursed place.
Better to limp back toward Kumogakure, where even a wounded village was safer than the Konoha's territory.
Arata didn't pursue.
He couldn't.
Because the chakra pouring off Sarutobi Sasuke was enough to make even him pause.
The old man's reserves were deeper than the Third Raikage's—and that was saying something. But then again, Sasuke had survived since the Warring States era. No one who lived that long did so by being ordinary.
Even Uchiha Sasuke—the future legend—shared this man's name out of respect.
And Arata knew something the Eight-Tails didn't:
Sarutobi Sasuke never acts alone.
Sure enough, the moment Sasuke appeared, thirteen other figures emerged from every direction.
Twelve wore matching sashes marked with the Fire emblem—identical shaved heads, identical discipline.
The Twelve Guardian Ninja.
Even their weakest was jōnin-class. Three were outright elite jōnin.
And with them… Arata saw a familiar face:
Sarutobi Hiruzen.
If the father stepped forward, the son couldn't hide behind the village walls any longer.
The Hokage—who had been conveniently "leading from behind"—now revealed his true presence.
With this much force assembled, even a fresh Arata would have faced difficulty.
But Arata was coming off a battle against the Kumo's top fighters.
Yet he didn't panic.
He didn't even tense.
Instead, he spoke calmly:
"Hiruzen… so you're finally done pretending."
Hiruzen winced at the lack of honorifics.
Sasuke, however, clapped his hands lightly.
"Impressive, Arata. I watched your entire fight earlier. A prodigy if I ever saw one—give you a few more years, and you might rival Madara himself."
Arata ignored the compliment and smirked coldly.
"As long as I'm stronger than that disappointing son of yours… that's enough."
The jab landed cleanly—implying Arata was more fit to be Hokage than Hiruzen ever was.
Sasuke sighed.
"A pity you're not a Sarutobi. If you were, I'd support you as the next Hokage without hesitation."
Arata chuckled.
"So you really think you've cornered me? This little group is enough to take me down?"
This time Sasuke's expression lost all lightness.
"You're right—you alone could kill any of us one-on-one. But victory isn't always decided by strength."
He tapped his temple.
"Sometimes it's decided here."
Arata's eyes narrowed.
He'd intercepted many of Sasuke's messages to Hiruzen—but there were decisions Sasuke made alone.
Decisions Arata had never been able to overhear.
And the daimyo's residence was nearly a hundred kilometers from Konoha—far outside Observation Haki's range.
Arata's instincts screamed.
He pushed his Observation Haki to its limit.
Images flashed—future snapshots, fragments three seconds ahead of the present, just like Katakuri's legendary ability.
Not guesses.
Not predictions.
True foresight.
And what Arata saw made cold sweat drip down his neck.
If he hadn't unlocked future-sight, he would die here today.
Sasuke raised a hand and shouted:
"Root of the Heart—trigger!"
Instantly, the Twelve Guardian Ninja's eyes went pale. Veins bulged across their temples as their bodies jerked like puppets.
They moved with perfect synchrony—mindless, relentless—and charged Arata.
"Reverse Four Symbols Seal!"
The first guardian slammed his hands together, activating a jutsu capable of sealing everything within several hundred meters inside his own body.
A suicide jutsu.
The caster would unquestionably die.
But the others were already moving too—nine more splitting off, positioning themselves at every path Arata could take to escape.
One way or another…
they intended to trap him inside a web of self-sacrificing seals.
And this was only the beginning.