Sakumo looked at him for a long time.
Then he smiled.
A very faint smile.
"Interesting."
He left.
Tsunade walked over and stood beside him.
"The things you just said... were they true?"
Nobunaga looked at her.
"Which ones?"
"The surveillance."
Nobunaga was silent for a moment.
"They're true."
Tsunade looked at him.
"Aren't you afraid of him?"
"I am," Nobunaga said. "But some things must be done even if one is afraid."
Tsunade didn't say anything.
She simply reached out and took his hand.
Her hand was warm and held his tightly.
The war began.
On the eastern front, Danzo and Hiruzen led members of the Council of Elders toward the Hidden Mist.
Nobunaga had deployed the most difficult people to the most distant battlefields; it wasn't out of trust, but for attrition.
He wanted them to exhaust their troops, time, and energy on the battlefield.
By the time they returned, there would no longer be a place for them in Konoha.
On the western front, Sakumo went alone toward Sunagakure.
The name Konoha's White Fang was enough to make the entire Land of Wind tremble.
He didn't need many troops; he only needed to stand there, and the enemy wouldn't dare move.
On the northern front, Jiraiya and Orochimaru headed toward Kumogakure.
Two people, two of the Sannin, were enough to hold back the entire Kumogakure offensive.
On the western front, Tsunade and Shinnosuke headed toward Iwagakure.
With Tsunade's Monstrous Strength and Shinnosuke's Sarutobi Secret Arts, coupled with the fact that Iwagakure wasn't Konoha's primary threat anyway.
In the Anbu, Zixiao was responsible for intelligence and surveillance.
His people followed Danzo's men, the Council of Elders, and everyone who might potentially betray them like shadows.
Nobunaga sat in the Hokage Office, a map of the Ninja World before him.
He didn't need to go to the battlefield himself; he only needed to sit here and watch the war unfold according to his plan.
This was his war—fought not with blades, but with his mind.
The door was pushed open.
Zixiao walked in, holding an intelligence report.
"Danzo is holding his position on the eastern front without moving," he said flatly. "He's waiting. Waiting for you to break first."
Nobunaga took the report and glanced at it.
"He won't wait for long."
Zixiao looked at him.
"Are you sure?"
Nobunaga didn't answer.
He stood up and walked to the window.
Outside, the setting sun was dipping below the horizon, dyeing all of Konoha gold.
He thought of Shinku Yuhi, and how she had said, "Live on, and see that dawn for me."
He thought of Tobirama, and how he had said, "End this era of chaos; it's your turn now."
He thought of Tsunade, and how she had said, "I only have you left by my side."
These bonds weighed on his shoulders like a mountain.
But he could not fall.
"He won't wait for long."
Nobunaga said, "Because he doesn't believe I can win. He thinks a sixteen-year-old brat won't last through this war.
He thinks that once Konoha can't hold out anymore, he'll return and take the Hokage's seat. But he's forgotten one thing."
Zixiao looked at him.
"What?"
Nobunaga turned around and looked at the map of the Ninja World.
The map was covered in markers, and every marker represented a life.
"This war isn't about me winning. It's about Konoha surviving."
He looked at Zixiao. "Go and take care of it."
Zixiao looked at him for a long time.
Then he smiled.
The smile was faint, but genuine.
"Understood."
He left.
The door closed behind him.
Nobunaga sat back at his desk and picked up his pen.
Before those old fogies returned, he would transform Konoha into something they wouldn't recognize.
The setting sun outside vanished, and the night rose.
The lights in the Hokage Office stayed on all night.
The war entered its third year.
Konoha's hospital was crowded with wounded soldiers every day; stretchers lined the hallways, and the air was thick with the smell of blood and medicine.
Tsunade stood at the operating table, her hands covered in blood.
She had been performing surgery for over ten consecutive hours, from dawn until deep into the night, having only a single sip of water in between.
Batch after batch of Medical Ninja had swapped out beside her, but she was the only one still standing.
Her blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail and tucked into a surgical cap, with a few stray strands falling by her ears.
Fine beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, trickling down her cheeks and dripping onto the operating table.
Her eyes were fixed on the wound, her movements swift and steady.
Incising, stopping the bleeding, suturing—Chakra condensed into a green light at her fingertips, like a fine thread, stitching the torn tissue back together bit by bit.
An assistant handed her a new scalpel.
She took it without looking up.
"Hemostat."
The assistant handed it over.
She clamped a severed blood vessel, ligated it, cut it, and continued suturing.
"Lady Tsunade, you've been at this for sixteen hours straight—" the assistant's voice was hesitant.
"Shut up."
Tsunade's voice was calm, as if she were stating something perfectly ordinary. "This person isn't out of danger yet. Get out and have the next team prepare."
The assistant opened her mouth to say something.
Tsunade looked up and glanced at her.
With just that one look, the assistant swallowed her words and turned to leave.
Tsunade lowered her head and continued the surgery.
Her fingers were steady, like a precision instrument.
No one knew that her fingers were trembling.
Only she knew.
By the time the surgery ended, dawn had broken.
Tsunade walked out of the operating room and leaned against the hallway wall.
She looked down at her hands.
They were covered in blood that had already dried into dark red crusts, clinging to her skin and refusing to be washed away.
She held her hands under the faucet; water flowed over her fingertips, carrying away streaks of red.
It took a long time before they were finally clean.
She looked up and saw someone standing at the end of the hallway.
Nobunaga.
He was leaning against the wall, reading a document in his hand.
He wasn't wearing his Hokage robes, but a dark kimono, with the short blade left by Shinku Yuhi tied at his waist.
He didn't look well; there were deep dark circles under his eyes, and stubble had grown on his chin.
He hadn't slept well for several days.
Tsunade walked over and stood beside him.
"Why are you here?"
Nobunaga looked up at her.
"I heard you've been in surgery for sixteen hours."
Tsunade didn't say anything.
Nobunaga looked at her.
Her face was pale, devoid of color, with heavy bags under her eyes; her lips were chapped, and her hair was a mess.
Standing there, she had lost a lot of weight, looking like a completely different person from the delinquent girl who used to scold others with her hands on her hips.
But she stood straight, like a tree that had been bent by the wind and snapped back.
"Have you eaten?" Nobunaga asked.
Tsunade shook her head.
Nobunaga pulled a rice ball from his robes and handed it to her.
Tsunade took it and took a bite.
The rice was cold and the seaweed was soggy, but she chewed slowly and earnestly.
"A letter came from Shinnosuke."
Nobunaga pulled a letter from his robes.
Tsunade took it and unfolded it.
On the paper was Shinnosuke's crooked handwriting:
"Fourth Brother, things are fine on my end, don't worry!
The Iwagakure people have been much better behaved lately. The Medical Ninjutsu Sister Tsunade taught me have been a huge help; I've saved many people.
Oh, by the way, there's a kind of wild vegetable here on the front lines that tastes amazing when roasted. I'll take you to try some once the war is over.
—Shinnosuke"
Tsunade looked at the letter, her lips twitching slightly.
It wasn't a smile, but a very complex expression.
She folded the letter and handed it back to Nobunaga.
"He's still so young," she said.
Nobunaga nodded.
"Yeah."
Tsunade was silent for a moment.
"He should be studying in school, practicing Ninjutsu on the Training Grounds, and chasing girls with kids his age. He shouldn't be on the front lines."