The fourth year of the war.
When the news of victory arrived from the Sunagakure front, Nobunaga was reviewing documents in the Hokage Office.
Sakumo Hatake, alone with a single short blade, had been killing in the deserts of the Land of Wind for an entire year.
The Sunagakure army was beaten back by him step by step, forced to retreat and defend their national border.
The name of Konoha's White Fang spread throughout the entire Ninja World.
People from Kumogakure would fall silent upon hearing the name, those from Iwagakure would frown, and those from the Hidden Mist would take a detour.
One man, one blade, made four great nations hesitate to take any reckless action.
Nobunaga put down his pen and looked out the window.
The setting sun was sinking, dyeing all of Konoha in gold.
He remembered the first time he met Sakumo; the silver-haired youth stood on the Training Ground with a short blade on his back, his gaze very heavy.
Later, they took photos together on the back mountain; Sakumo stood on the side, the corners of his mouth twitching into a very faint smile.
Later still, he went to the front lines and was gone for four years.
The door was pushed open.
Sakumo stood at the door.
He was much taller than four years ago, his shoulders were broader, and the lines on his face had hardened.
His silver-white hair had grown to his shoulders, tied loosely with a cord.
His eyes were still just as heavy, but something more lay beneath that weight.
Nobunaga couldn't quite say what it was.
"You're back," Nobunaga said.
Sakumo walked in and sat down opposite him.
"Reporting for duty."
His voice was very flat, just as before.
Nobunaga looked at him.
There were bloodstains on his clothes—not his own, but the enemy's.
The bandages on the hilt of his blade were worn white, having been replaced who knows how many times.
His hands were covered in callouses and scars, new ones overlapping the old, layer upon layer.
"Are you injured?" Nobunaga asked.
Sakumo shook his head.
"No."
Nobunaga nodded.
"Sunagakure won't be making any moves for the time being. You can rest in the Village for a while."
Sakumo did not speak.
He sat there, looking out the window.
The setting sun shone on his face, making those quiet eyes of his very bright.
There was a long silence.
Then Sakumo spoke.
"Nobunaga."
His voice was very soft: "The more people I kill now, the more I remember the things we said back then."
"Peace, unification, making it so everyone can live."
He turned his head and looked at Nobunaga.
"Tell me, is the path we are taking truly right?"
Nobunaga was stunned.
He looked at Sakumo.
In those eyes, there was something he was very familiar with—exhaustion.
Not physical exhaustion, but another kind.
The kind of exhaustion that comes after killing too many people, when one begins to doubt why they are killing at all.
Nobunaga was silent for a long time.
He spoke.
"We do it so that in the future, no one will need to kill."
Sakumo looked at him for a long time.
Then he smiled.
The smile was brief and faint, but very genuine.
"Alright." He stood up and walked toward the door.
Reaching the door, he stopped.
"Nobunaga."
"Yeah."
"Do you believe it?"
Nobunaga looked at him.
"I do."
Sakumo nodded.
He pushed the door and left.
The door closed behind him.
Nobunaga sat there, looking at the closed door.
Did he believe it?
He didn't know.
He only knew that besides this path, there was no other way to go.
He lowered his head and continued reviewing documents.
The setting sun outside sank, and the night rose.
The fifth year of the war.
Nobunaga was looking at a map in the office when Zixiao pushed the door open.
His face was very pale, terrifyingly so.
Nobunaga looked up at him.
Zixiao stood at the door, his lips moving as if to say something, but nothing came out.
"What happened?" Nobunaga asked.
Zixiao didn't answer.
He walked over and placed an intelligence report on the desk.
Nobunaga glanced down.
And then his world went quiet.
All sounds disappeared—the birds outside the window, the footsteps in the hallway, the shouting from the distant Training Grounds—all gone.
He could only see the words on that report.
Small and dense, but every word was like a blade carved into his eyes.
Iwagakure front, Third Battalion, ambushed.
Squad leader Sarutobi Shinnosuke, while covering the evacuation of civilians, was hit by the Explosion Corps and died in the line of duty on the spot.
Nobunaga sat there, unmoving for a long time.
Zixiao stood beside him, also unmoving.
"When did it happen?" Nobunaga's voice was flat.
Zixiao looked at him.
"Three days ago."
Nobunaga stood up.
He didn't know how he walked out of the office, nor how he reached the morgue.
He only remembered the hallway being very long, the lights very dim, and every step feeling very heavy.
When the door was pushed open, he saw Hiruzen.
Hiruzen Sarutobi was kneeling on the ground, his shoulders trembling.
Beside him was Danzo, standing in the shadows, his face expressionless.
Nobunaga walked over.
The white cloth was pulled back, and Shinnosuke lay there.
His face was very pale and peaceful.
His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something.
He was much taller and thinner than four years ago.
There was a scar on his face from last year.
His hands were covered in callouses from gripping a blade.
Nobunaga looked at him.
This child, under the moonlight on the back mountain, had looked up at him and said, 'Brother Nobunaga, I want to help you.'
This child, every time he wrote back, said, 'Fourth Brother, everything is fine on my end, don't worry!'
This child was only seventeen.
Nobunaga reached out and touched his hair.
The hair was stiff and cold.
He remembered the last time Shinnosuke returned to the Village to report for duty; he stood before him and said with a smile:
"Fourth Brother, I've learned several new Ninjutsu. When the war is over, I'll teach you."
He had said okay.
Then Shinnosuke went back—back to the front lines, back to that place where no one knew.
Now he lay there, never to call him 'Fourth Brother' again.
Hiruzen stood up and walked to Nobunaga's side.
He looked at Shinnosuke's face, tears streaming down his own face, which he did not wipe away.
"When he was little, he always said he wanted to protect the Village just like Lord Hashirama."
Hiruzen's voice was hoarse. "Later he met you, and he started saying those things—those things about peace."
"I thought he was just joking around. But he wasn't. He was serious."
He turned his head and looked at Nobunaga. "He was serious."
Nobunaga did not speak.
He stood there, looking at Shinnosuke's face.
Hiruzen's tears dripped onto the floor, one by one, very quiet but very loud.
When Tsunade rushed in, Nobunaga was still standing there.
Her eyes were red, and her face was covered in tear stains.
She pushed Nobunaga aside and knelt before Shinnosuke.
She reached out and touched Shinnosuke's face.
"Shinnosuke..." her voice was trembling, "Shinnosuke, wake up... your sister is here... wake up..."
Shinnosuke did not move.
Tsunade lay over him, sobbing uncontrollably.
Nobunaga stood there, watching her cry.
He remembered when Shinnosuke was young, Tsunade always took him around, teaching him Ninjutsu, teaching him how to read, teaching him how to be a person.
Shinnosuke called her 'Sister Tsunade' very sweetly.
Later, when Shinnosuke went to the front lines, every time he wrote back, he would write at the end of the letter, 'Give my regards to Sister Tsunade for me.'
Now there was no one left to call her Sister Tsunade.
Tsunade stayed in the morgue all night.
Nobunaga stood outside, leaning against the wall, not going in.
Zixiao stood beside him, also silent.