Chapter 8: The Art of an Unseen Hand
The reports came in waves. Iwa had halted its advance. Panic spread through their ranks like a plague, their shinobi unwilling to march forward, unwilling to fight a war they no longer understood. Rumors circulated—some claimed an invisible force had cursed the battlefield, others whispered of Konoha developing a forbidden jutsu capable of striking without warning.
Hikaru sat in a dimly lit underground chamber, surrounded by stacks of maps, intercepted messages, and blueprints of his latest projects. A single candle flickered beside him, casting his expression in deep shadows.
Across from him stood his most trusted lieutenants, all masked, their identities hidden even from one another. They awaited his next move, silent and patient.
"The psychological impact is spreading faster than expected," one of them reported. "Even outside Iwa, other villages are beginning to take notice. Kiri has delayed sending reinforcements to their allies, and Suna is reassessing its position in the war."
Hikaru nodded, his fingers tapping against the wooden table.
"A few more incidents like this," another operative added, "and the great villages will start turning on each other out of pure paranoia."
That was the plan. Wars weren't won by the strongest fighters—they were won by those who dictated the battlefield itself. Let the great nations bleed themselves dry while chasing shadows.
"But we cannot afford to stay passive," one of his strategists warned. "At some point, they will realize there's no supernatural force, no forbidden jutsu. They will start searching for answers."
Hikaru leaned forward. "Then let them search." His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it. "And when they think they've found something, we will feed them lies."
Disinformation was just as powerful as any weapon. He would manufacture fake evidence, create false leads, and let the great villages chase ghosts. Let them believe that a hidden faction was behind these attacks. Let them waste their resources hunting an enemy that did not exist.
"And what of the next operation?" another asked.
Hikaru closed his eyes for a brief moment, mapping out the next steps in his mind. He had already laid the groundwork—small disruptions in supply lines, minor assassinations that looked like accidents, whispers planted in the right ears. Now, it was time for the next move.
"Konohagakure's forces are preparing for a decisive battle against Kumo," he said, eyes snapping open. "We will make sure that battle never happens."
His subordinates exchanged glances, already understanding what he meant.
They weren't going to attack.
They were going to make sure the battle collapsed before it even began.
"Spread the right rumors," Hikaru ordered. "Make it seem like Kumo is planning to betray their own allies. Stir distrust. Have key supplies 'disappear' before they reach the front lines. And if necessary…" His gaze darkened. "We will make sure neither side arrives on the battlefield intact."
The masked figures bowed, then vanished into the darkness.
Hikaru remained seated, staring at the candle's flame.
The villages thought they were fighting a war.
They had no idea they were already dancing in the palm of his hand.