His hand loosened and fell away.
Nobunaga stood there, supporting him.
Shishio leaned against his shoulder, very light—as light as a leaf.
His eyes were still open, looking at Nobunaga, with a trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Just like when they first met.
Nobunaga placed him on the ground.
He squatted down, reached out, and covered Shishio's eyes.
Those eyes closed.
Nobunaga knelt there, not moving for a long time.
Outside the window, the moon rose, and moonlight shone in, falling on Shishio's face.
That face was very peaceful, just like when he was alive.
Nobunaga stood up.
He walked to the desk, picked up the scroll, and unfurled it.
The handwriting on the paper was dense; some parts were blurred by blood, but most were still legible.
Senju, Uchiha, Hyuga, Sarutobi, Shimura, Utatane, Mitokado, Mitarashi.
Name after name, clan after clan.
Some he knew, some he didn't.
Some were his people, some were the enemy's.
He looked at it for a long time.
Then he tucked the scroll away into his robes, pressing it against his heart.
Might Duy's letter, Shinnosuke's letter, and Shinku Yuhi's short sword were already there.
Nobunaga turned and walked out of the office.
The corridor was long, and the lights were dim.
He walked very slowly, every step heavy.
He reached the door of the morgue and pushed it open.
Shishio lay there, covered with a white cloth.
Nobunaga walked over and sat down beside him, leaning against the wall.
He remembered the first time he met Shishio.
That man had been leaning against a doorframe, holding a jug of sake, and asked him, 'Do you actually believe in that stuff yourself?'
He said he did.
Shishio laughed and said, 'Then that's enough.'
That was the first time they spoke.
Later, Shishio joined them.
Under the moonlight on the back mountain, he said, 'My name is Mitarashi Shishio. Twelve years old. I want to live, and I want others to live too.'
He was the laziest of the nine, always leaning against a tree taking a nap, but when he napped, he could hear everything.
He was the most clear-headed of the nine, never boasting or bragging, just getting things done.
Anbu, intelligence, surveillance.
He did it for six years, doing more than others could in a lifetime.
Nobunaga reached out and touched Shishio's hair.
It was cold and stiff.
He remembered Shishio's final words—
'Fourth Brother, rumors are spreading outside that the Third Hokage is the weakest Hokage. But I know that you love Konoha more than anything.'
Nobunaga slowly opened his eyes, the Mangekyo spinning within them.
Kage-level; he had already reached it.
But it wasn't enough; too many Kage-level shinobi died during times of war.
Nobunaga sat there, leaning against the wall, not closing his eyes all night.
As dawn approached, Tsunade arrived.
She stood at the door, looking at Nobunaga, then at Shishio.
Her eyes were red, but she didn't cry.
'You haven't slept all night,' she said.
Nobunaga did not answer.
Tsunade walked in and sat down beside him.
'What do you plan to do?'
Nobunaga was silent for a long time.
'Endure.'
Tsunade turned her head to look at him.
'Until the war is over.'
Nobunaga's voice was flat: 'If we settle accounts now, Konoha will fall into internal strife. The front lines will lose support, and the war will be lost. Those who died will have died for nothing.'
Tsunade looked at him.
'Then what about Shishio? What about Shinnosuke? What about Might Duy?'
Nobunaga did not speak.
Tsunade's tears began to fall.
'Are you just going to let them die for nothing?'
'I won't.'
Nobunaga's voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself:
'They won't die for nothing. But I must endure. Endure until the war ends, endure until Konoha is stable, endure until those people can no longer move.'
Tsunade looked at him.
In those emerald eyes, there were tears, anger, and something Nobunaga couldn't understand.
'Do you know what they're saying about you outside? They call you the weakest Hokage. They say all you do is endure, retreat, and send others to their deaths.'
Her voice began to tremble: 'Why don't you tell them? Why don't you bring out that evidence? Why don't you—'
'Because bringing it out would be useless.'
Nobunaga interrupted her: 'Those clans, those elders, those who survived from the Sengoku period, they control Konoha's lifeblood. Without them, the front lines won't last through the year.'
'Without them, supplies won't get through, the wounded won't be brought back, and the war cannot continue.'
'Over eighty percent of Konoha's forces now belong to the various clan heads; even the Senju Clan wouldn't all stand with us.'
Tsunade was stunned.
'Konoha needs them now, and I need them too.'
Nobunaga's voice was cold, like a winter wind:
'At least for now. So I must endure. Endure until I no longer need them.'
Tsunade looked at him for a long time.
'You've changed.'
Nobunaga did not speak.
Tsunade stood up and walked toward the door.
Reaching the door, she stopped without turning back.
'Nobunaga, you used to say you would stand in front of everyone. Are you still standing in front now?'
Nobunaga was silent for a moment.
'Standing in front doesn't necessarily mean being the first to charge. Sometimes, the person standing in front must be the last one to fall.'
Tsunade stood there, not moving for a long time.
Then she pushed the door and left.
The door closed behind her.
Nobunaga sat there, leaning against the wall.
He pulled the scroll from his robes and looked at it once more.
Those names, one after another, were carved into his eyes like knives.
Senju.
His own clansmen.
His surname was Senju.
Those days growing up on the outskirts of the clan grounds, where no one ever noticed him.
Those days when he was treated as if he were invisible, and no one ever called his name.
Those days when he lived alone in a dilapidated dormitory and couldn't even afford food.
Now his clansmen were conspiring to kill him.
Because they felt Konoha belonged to them, not to him, and not to the commoners.
Nobunaga tucked the scroll back into his robes.
He stood up and walked out of the morgue.
The corridor was long, and the lights were dim.
He walked very slowly, every step heavy.
He walked back to the Hokage Office and sat down.
Outside, the sun was rising, and sunlight shone in, falling warmly on the desk.
He picked up a pen and began to write.
He was writing a post-war personnel adjustment plan.
Moving those clan members out of key positions and replacing them with his own people.
Marginalizing the leaders so they could never rise again.
Name after name, position after position.
He wrote very slowly, putting weight behind every stroke.
He didn't know how long it would take to write, only that he had to write it.
Hiruzen Sarutobi pushed the door open and entered.
He stood before Nobunaga, looking at the papers on the desk.
'You've decided?'
Nobunaga nodded.
Hiruzen Sarutobi was silent for a while.
'What do you need me to do?'
Nobunaga looked up at him.
'Keep Danzo in check. Don't let him notice anything. Wait until the war is over.'
Hiruzen Sarutobi looked at him for a long time.
Then he nodded.
'Alright.'
He turned and walked toward the door.
Reaching the door, he stopped without turning back.
'Nobunaga.'
'Yeah.'
'I'll investigate the matter regarding Shishio. Not a single name will be missed.'
He pushed the door and left.
Nobunaga sat there, looking at the closed door.
He pulled Shishio's scroll from his robes and placed it on the desk.
The names were dense, like a swarm of insects devouring Konoha.
He was going to root them out, one by one.
But he needed time; he needed to wait.
He remembered what Tobirama said—'Be ruthless to others, but be even more ruthless to yourself.'
Had he been ruthless enough to himself?
He had watched Shishio die before him without moving.
He let Shinnosuke's enemies live, without moving.
He let Might Duy's enemies live, without moving.
He was enduring, always enduring.
Until when?
Endure until the war ends, endure until Konoha is stable, endure until those people can no longer move.