Time passed in a blur.
The Second Ninja World War came to an end with the collapse of the Hidden Village of Sora. Soon after, Sarutobi Ryo returned to Konoha alongside Hatake Sakumo, his mentor. The battle was over, but the scars left behind—physical and emotional—were impossible to ignore.
The five major powers were victorious, but the war had its price. While the major nations reaped the rewards, plundering smaller ones and strengthening their positions, Konoha itself had avoided severe damage. Yet, one grave loss stood out—the destruction of the Land of Whirlpools, a vital ally.
The war had begun with the tragic death of Senju Nawaki, the grandson of the legendary Hashirama Senju, and it had unfolded with betrayals, sacrifices, and twists of fate. It had ended with the obliteration of the Hidden Village of Sora, a symbol of the cost of unchecked ambition.
To the high-ranking officials of Konoha, the end of the war was merely a chapter in their broader strategy. The deaths of many had become another statistic, an inconvenience. But for the families who lost their loved ones, for the ninja who fought and never returned, the war was a searing wound that would never heal.
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The rain fell in sheets that day, as it often did when the sky wept alongside the hearts of those who had lost. In the cemetery, the quiet sobs of mourners mixed with the rhythm of falling drops. Dressed in black, people paid their respects—anonymously, quietly, as if to be seen was a form of weakness in the face of such loss.
Sarutobi Ryo stood before the gravestone, his eyes tracing the simple inscription: Tomb of Senju Nawaki.
His heart, heavy with grief, felt like it might break at any moment. But there were no tears—only silence.
Beside him, Yamanaka Hui held an umbrella, shielding him from the relentless rain. She stood close, her presence a constant, as she always had been. She was his most trusted friend, his confidante, and, in many ways, the one person who knew him best. Their bond had been forged in childhood, tempered by the fierce demands of the ninja world. It was through her loyalty and unwavering support that Ryo had survived the darkest of days.
Her golden hair, dampened by the rain, clung to her face as she glanced at him with quiet concern. "Master Ryo..." Her voice was soft, as if to break the silence might cause the world to shatter. But even in that soft whisper, there was strength—strength Ryo relied on more than he ever let on.
"Master Ryo Sarutobi."
A new voice cut through the silence, and Ryo turned.
A young man stood before him, his golden hair wet with rain, but his eyes gleamed with purpose. It was Minato Namikaze, his peer, though already far ahead in the race of destiny. His youthful face bore the weight of his own burdens, but his smile—bright and genuine—was the light that seemed to push away the darkness.
"Minato," Ryo said, nodding somberly. "I heard... about your teammates. Please, accept my condolences."
Minato gave a solemn nod. The war had taken many lives, but none closer to him than the two teammates he had trained with, laughed with, and bled with. The loss was still fresh in his heart.
"Thank you, Master Ryo," Minato replied, his voice steady but carrying the weight of grief. "It's... never easy, is it?"
Ryo's eyes softened, his gaze drifting back to the gravestone. "No, it's not. But we must carry on. For them. For everyone who didn't make it out of this war." He sighed deeply, his voice tinged with the realization of just how much they had lost.
Minato said nothing at first. Instead, he looked around, at the cemetery, at the names etched into stone, at the faces of families grieving. His eyes, sharp and perceptive even in his youth, took in the scene. "Master Ryo," he said, after a moment, "I've heard a lot about you. You've already achieved so much, and yet... you're still here. Among the fallen."
Ryo looked at Minato, feeling the weight of his words. There was something in the air between them—an unspoken acknowledgment of the future that awaited them both. They had crossed paths in the war, but this moment, standing in the rain among the dead, was a reminder of how fragile life truly was.
"It's not about the victories we've won," Ryo said, his tone heavy. "It's about what we do after. The way we rebuild and remember. The way we carry forward the Will of Fire." He felt the weight of those words in his chest. They had once been a concept, a mere idea. But now, they were his truth.
Minato, ever perceptive, nodded in understanding. "I will remember that. We have to keep moving forward. Even if it's hard."
Ryo glanced at him, his expression softening. "You will. And when the time comes, you'll be ready. Just remember, Minato... The Will of Fire is not just about strength. It's about protecting those who can't protect themselves. It's about making sure that the future is better than the past."
Minato nodded again, his resolve hardening. "I'll do whatever it takes."
But then, Ryo's thoughts shifted to something else—a darker thought that had lingered at the back of his mind since the war's end.
It was then that he recalled the brutal battle he'd faced, the battle that had taken his guiding Jonin's life. That Jonin, a person Ryo had trusted, had died in the heat of the conflict. The enemy, those mysterious figures that had appeared without warning, were still a mystery to him. He couldn't recognize them, and in a world of ninjas where so many faces blurred together, it was perhaps not too surprising. After all, in war, there are always shadows, faces that vanish just as quickly as they appear.
"Ninjas are often accompanied by death. It's a normal thing," Ryo mused, his voice distant.
Sarutobi Ryo's words hung heavy in the air, but his mind had already drifted to the deeper question: Was it right to send children to die in battle?
The thoughts lingered, until Sarutobi Ryo's sharp gaze caught Minato's eyes.
"But... Minato, don't you think it's unreasonable to send children to war?" Ryo's voice was quiet but full of fire.
The question echoed through the cemetery, lingering on the breeze as Ryo looked toward the grave of Nawaki Senju, his long-time friend and playmate. Nawaki, who had once dreamed of becoming Hokage, had fallen young, a casualty of the war they had all been thrust into.
Minato hesitated, his eyes lowering to the ground as if the weight of the question was too much. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer now. "Master Ryo, be careful with your words..."
The air seemed to shift as Yamanaka Hui, standing beside them with her umbrella, gave a small smile, her voice laced with quiet amusement. "When telling the truth becomes a sin... Huh, Master Ryo?"
Ryo's lips curved into a wry smile at Hui's remark. But Minato seemed more serious now, his youthful smile fading slightly as he looked at Ryo.
"Master Ryo, maybe some things are unreasonable right now… But what we can do is work hard, climb to the top, become Hokage, and change those things," Minato said firmly.
Ryo nodded, his thoughts solidifying around the words Minato had spoken. Power—it was the key. In the ninja world, unless you were like the First Hokage, you couldn't change anything without it.
"Power does matter," Ryo said, reflecting on the reality of the ninja world. Without power, even someone like Hatake Sakumo—the White Fang—could be pushed around by those in charge.
Minato's eyes sparkled with a light of youthful ambition. "Master Ryo, are you also going to compete for the position of Hokage?"
Ryo's gaze shifted back to Nawaki's grave. "Yes, some things need to change... or rather, we need to return to our original intentions."
Minato's smile brightened, though there was no jealousy in his eyes—only understanding. "Then let's do our best together."
Ryo looked at him, and for a brief moment, he saw the echoes of their younger selves—the three of them, once full of dreams, now standing on the edge of something far more dangerous and complicated.
As Minato made his way toward the other side of the cemetery to pay his respects to Kushina, Yamanaka Hui leaned closer to Ryo, a smirk playing at her lips.
"Master, that Namikaze Minato seems quite confident, doesn't he? Think he can actually become Hokage?"
Ryo turned to her, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "He's a bright one, no doubt. But... let's see how far his dreams can take him."
But there was something in the back of his mind, a nagging thought that kept resurfacing. The path they were all on was no longer as clear as it once had been. Power...
As he glanced at the grave of his old friend, Senju Nawaki, he felt the weight of his decision. If there was any hope for change in Konoha, it would require more than just dreams. It would require a true commitment to the Will of Fire—one that he was ready to carry, no matter the cost.