Arata had only just begun to take the Third Hokage seriously—and now, watching him slink away—he found himself looking down on the old man all over again.
This was the perfect moment to press the attack. With enough momentum, numbers didn't matter; the enemy would have no choice but to run. Even if the pursuit crossed out of the Land of Fire, as long as they didn't charge straight into the Land of Lightning, there'd be no risk. After all, the Kumo forces were far from home—any prolonged campaign would squeeze their supplies dry.
If this were Sarutobi Sasuke instead of Hiruzen, Arata had no doubt the old warlord would've driven the advance even at the cost of a thousand lives just to crush the Kumo while they were off-balance. With one decisive victory, the Land of Lightning would be forced behind its borders for the next decade.
Arata couldn't help thinking: Maybe Hiruzen's calm reaction to his father's death wasn't composure—maybe the man simply didn't care. When he recalled all the questionable decisions Hiruzen made in the original timeline, it suddenly felt very possible.
...
Once the Third Hokage and his troops were out of sight, the civilian shinobi behind Arata burst into cheers.
"Arata-sama, long live!"
"Even the Hokage backed down—we always knew Arata-sama deserves that title more!"
"If Arata-sama ever runs for Hokage, I'll bring my whole family to vote for him!"
"Same here! Every relative I've got will cast their ballot for Arata-sama!"
"With someone this powerful leading us, we might actually be the luckiest division in this whole war…"
"No kidding—I was terrified I'd die the moment we left the village!"
Their excitement swelled louder and louder until Arata finally waved a hand, half amused, half exasperated.
"All right, that's enough. Break it up. If you keep crowding the gate like this, how are we supposed to hold the line? The Kumo has already retreated!"
That announcement triggered another round of cheering.
Arata dismissed patrol duty as well. Their detection skills couldn't come close to matching his Observation Haki, and sending them out now would only expose them to unnecessary danger. Better he handle reconnaissance himself.
But that left him with a new problem: despite everything they'd achieved, the system still hadn't granted him the reward tied to protecting these civilian shinobi—the Uchiha Madara bloodline he expected. That meant simply forcing the Kumo to retreat wasn't enough. The option required zero casualties.
Which meant the final reward wouldn't trigger until the Second War formally ended.
And these three dozen shinobi… they weren't exactly durable. Arata couldn't risk leaving them alone. Until he secured the locations of the other Kage and Hanzō of the Salamander, he couldn't move freely.
One death—just one—and the entire reward chain would collapse.
Arata, future god-tier powerhouse, reduced to babysitting duty. The irony almost made him laugh.
Still, if he was stuck playing guardian, he could at least make use of the time. Starting tomorrow, he'd begin training them in Rokushiki—the physical training method recorded in Garp's notes. Civilian shinobi usually hit a wall quickly due to poor foundations and no proper system. But Arata knew techniques that worked on anyone.
Even Koby, one of the weakest people in the pirate world, eventually rose to captain—and might someday become a Marine admiral.
As long as Arata withheld the three forms of Haki, the most these shinobi could reach was elite jōnin level. Good enough to protect themselves. Not enough to threaten him.
....
After returning to camp and giving brief orders, Arata's first priority was refueling. He tore into food with a voracious appetite straight out of the one piece world—sandwiches, roasted meat, anything he could grab, devouring dish after dish.
In the shinobi world, even the strongest generally ate like normal humans. The Akimichi clan were an exception, but even they couldn't compete with this.
By the time Arata finished, he had put away at least twenty meals' worth. The cooks were horrified—but thankfully the war had only just begun, and supplies were still plentiful. Otherwise, one Arata alone would bankrupt the division's rations.
While Arata enjoyed his feast, life in Kumogakure camp looked far bleaker.
Inside their massive encampment, the sight of Yugito Nii—the Two-Tails jinchūriki—stumbling back with the Third Raikage unconscious on her shoulder struck the entire army dumb with dread.
The rear guard hadn't returned. Doell was gone. Even Blue B—the Eight-Tails' host—was nowhere to be found.
Whispers spread like wildfire.
Who could have done this? What kind of enemy crushes the Raikage, the Two-Tails, the Eight-Tails, and an elite captain in a single engagement?
Arata? That up-and-coming shinobi who, according to old intel, barely managed to defeat Zōshirō months ago?
Impossible… wasn't it?
Some of the older veterans began remembering the terror of the night Uchiha Madara invaded Kumogakure territory many years ago.
But none of them dared to compare this newcomer to Madara. That was too absurd. More likely, they reasoned, Konoha must have laid a trap—perhaps even deployed the Hokage or the Nine-Tails.
Otherwise there was no way the Raikage could have been defeated.
Gathered among the Kumo forces were numerous high-ranking officers, including the Raikage's chief aide and several elite elders. The moment Yugito Nii staggered into camp, one of them—a sharp-eyed, silver-haired woman with deep bronze skin—strode forward, voice taut with alarm.
"What happened out there? Did Sarutobi bring the Nine-Tails? If that's the case, we may have to reconsider continuing this war."
Her question, echoed by silent dread across the camp, hung in the air like a funeral bell.
If Arata or Jiraiya had been here to see her, they probably wouldn't have been able to stop themselves from blurting out a single word:
"Perfect."
-Or more accurately, "A total knockout."