Tsunade walked in and stood beside him.
She saw the letter and said nothing.
She merely reached out and took Nobunaga's hand.
Her hand was cold and thin, but she held on tightly.
"He said he wanted to teach all the children Taijutsu."
Nobunaga's voice was very soft, so soft it was like he was talking to himself:
"To let them grow strong without having to go to the battlefield. To let them protect others without having to kill."
Tears streamed down Tsunade's face.
"Yes," she said.
Nobunaga folded the letter and tucked it into his robes.
He stood up and looked at Maito Dai's face.
A smile still lingered on that face, just as it had before.
He remembered the last words Maito Dai had spoken—not to him, but to Might Guy.
But he knew Maito Dai had one last sentence in his heart, meant for him.
That sentence was written in the letter: "I believed. I have always believed."
Nobunaga turned and walked out of the morgue.
The corridor was long, and the lights were dim.
He walked slowly, each step heavy.
Behind him, Tsunade stood beside Maito Dai's body and covered it back up with the white cloth.
Her tears dripped onto the floor, one by one—soft, yet resounding.
Nobunaga walked to the end of the corridor and stopped.
He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
He remembered what Tobirama had said:
"The lesson Lord First left me with was never to be soft-hearted. Soft-heartedness cannot solve problems thoroughly; it only turns them into lingering hidden dangers.
The lesson I can leave you with is to endure. Only by enduring can you achieve final victory, and only then will the previous sacrifices not have been in vain."
He opened his eyes.
The tears had already dried.
He remembered the sentence in Maito Dai's letter: "When peace comes, I will teach all the children Taijutsu."
Maito Dai did not live to see peace.
But he believed.
He had always believed.
Nobunaga continued walking forward.
He walked back to the Hokage Office, sat down, and picked up his pen.
On the desk lay a photograph of Shinnosuke and the intel Zixiao had sent.
Outside the window, the sun had risen, and sunlight shone in, landing on the desk—it was warm.
He lowered his head and continued reviewing documents.
He had to live, he had to endure, and he had to wait for that day of peace.
Because Maito Dai was watching him, Shinku Yuhi was watching him, and Shinnosuke was watching him.
They were all watching him.
Hiruzen pushed the door open and stood before him.
"Did you find anything?" Nobunaga asked.
Hiruzen shook his head.
"The trail went cold. Danzo's men were one step ahead of us."
Nobunaga said nothing.
Hiruzen looked at him.
"What do you intend to do?"
Nobunaga was silent for a moment.
"Wait."
Hiruzen was stunned for a moment.
"Wait?"
Nobunaga looked up at Hiruzen: "Wait for him to reveal a flaw. Wait for us to be strong enough. Wait for the war to end. Now is not the time."
Hiruzen looked at him for a long time.
Then he nodded.
"I understand."
He turned and walked toward the door.
At the door, he stopped.
He did not look back.
"Nobunaga."
"Yes."
"I will get to the bottom of Maito Dai's matter."
He pushed the door open and left.
Nobunaga sat there, staring at the closed door.
He pulled Maito Dai's letter from his robes and read it again.
The handwriting was crooked, like a child's.
But every character was written with such force that it seemed as if it would pierce through the paper.
He folded the letter and put it back into his robes.
Outside the window, the sunlight shone in and fell upon his face.
It was warm.
He remembered Maito Dai's smile and his words: "I believed."
He had believed.
He had to believe too.
Not every sacrifice had meaning, but those of them who were still alive had to make it meaningful.
The war was still ongoing.
Nobunaga sat in the Hokage Office with a map of the Ninja World spread out before him.
Kumogakure to the north, Iwagakure to the west, Sunagakure to the south, and Hidden Mist to the east.
Four directions, four wars; Konoha had been dragged into this for six whole years.
He did not know how much longer he could hold on, only that he had to keep going.
That night, Zixiao returned.
He was covered in blood, his clothes torn in several places, and his left arm hung at an unnatural angle, as if it were broken.
There was a deep sword wound on his face, running from his temple to his chin, the flesh gaping open, the blood already congealed into a dark red.
But he stood there, at the door of the Hokage Office, looking at Nobunaga.
"Fourth Brother," his voice was hoarse, as if sandpaper had scraped over stone, "I found it."
Nobunaga stood up.
Zixiao walked in and placed a blood-stained scroll on the table.
His hands were shaking, but he did not sit down; he just stood there, looking at Nobunaga.
"Shinnosuke's death was no accident. Someone leaked the Third Division's marching route to Iwagakure. They used Iwagakure's hand to eliminate those around you."
Nobunaga said nothing.
He looked at the scroll; the blood on it had dried, turning dark red, blurring the characters at the edges.
He reached out, wanting to pick up the scroll, but his fingers stopped when they touched the parchment.
"Zixiao," he said, "you are injured."
Zixiao was stunned for a moment.
Then he smiled, a smile that was fleeting and faint.
"It's nothing."
Nobunaga stood up and walked over to him.
He reached out and supported Zixiao's shoulder.
Zixiao's body swayed, and he leaned against him.
He was light, much lighter than before.
"Call the Medical Corps—" Nobunaga began.
"Fourth Brother," Zixiao interrupted him.
His voice was very soft, so soft it was as if he were talking about something very ordinary, "It's too late."
Nobunaga looked down.
On Zixiao's abdomen was a wound, deep and wide; the bleeding could no longer be stopped.
His clothes were soaked through with blood, clinging to his body, their original color indistinguishable.
Nobunaga's breath hitched for a moment.
Zixiao looked at him, his eyes still bright, carrying a lazy sharpness, just like when they had first met.
"Fourth Brother, we were both wrong. It wasn't Danzo."
He paused, catching his breath: "It is a massive power. Those clans, those clans that survived from the Sengoku era. They have united."
Nobunaga's pupils contracted slightly.
"The civilian policies we pushed for shook their foundation."
Zixiao's voice grew fainter: "In their eyes, Konoha is the Konoha they founded, not the Konoha of the villagers.
You threatened their interests, so they want you dead.
Shinnosuke was the first, Maito Dai was the second. They will continue."
He reached out and grabbed Nobunaga's collar. His hand was cold and thin, but he gripped it tightly.
"Fourth Brother, those who are leading this are all on this paper."
Nobunaga looked down at the scroll.
He did not open it; he knew what he would see once he did.
Zixiao looked at him.
"Fourth Brother, do you know that many people in here are our own family?"
Nobunaga said nothing.
He knew.
"Senju. Mitarashi."
The corners of Zixiao's mouth twitched—it wasn't a smile, but a very complex expression: "My clansmen are in there, too."
Nobunaga's eyelashes trembled.
Zixiao leaned against him, his breathing growing weaker and weaker.
"Fourth Brother, outside, rumors are spreading that the Third Hokage is the weakest Hokage.
Not as strong as the First, nor as wise as the Second.
But I know—" He raised his head and looked into Nobunaga's eyes: "You love Konoha more than anything else. You have always been desperately protecting Konoha. You cannot let these people… destroy Konoha…"